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willowsmessy · 4 months ago

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nutella

summary: leighton murray x fem!reader. reader brings home a kitten off the sidewalk and is nervous to see how her girlfriend will react. (around 1.4k words)

warnings: small mention of leighton killing reader and alcohol

a/n: first time writing here in a long time and in this fandom so if anyone wants to reach out for tips or just to be friends please do!

Nobody really understood how you and Leighton were together. You were both pretty, sure, but you were so different. You were always more of the quiet, people pleaser type and Leighton was everything but that. So seeing you two together was a shock, especially to the people you guys lived with who saw that Leighton was the one person you weren’t too eager to please. You always felt that when in a relationship, your wants and needs were just as important. You could do without dating someone, but having no friends? That was a little more difficult. So when you came to your roommates, excluding your girlfriend, worried that she would be pissed at you for something you did, they were surprised to say the least.

“I just don’t know how she’s going to react, like, this doesn’t really seem to be much of her thing…” You explained. You lived in an apartment with your girlfriend and your friends Bela, Whitney, and Kimberly and let's just say that only one of the four would possibly have a bad reaction to what you had done.

“Okay, first off, who doesn’t love kittens? They’re, like, tiny fluffy angels of joy. But, um… if she’s not a kitten person, maybe we can spin this as a—uh—therapeutic emotional support thing? Or, I don’t know, is she allergic? Because if she is, then yeah, we might have a problem, but otherwise, I think she’ll come around once she sees its little face. Look at it! It’s practically impossible to be mad when it’s looking at you like that!" Kimberly argued. The kitten on your lap purred and looked at Kimberly with wide eyes.

You found the kitten on the sidewalk in front of Theta on your way to give Nico a case of beer as a thanks for helping you with some French homework and there was no way you were going to just leave the little thing there. So, you emptied out the case of beer (with help of a random frat guy) and put the kitten in the box and brought it to the vet, where you decided that you had fallen in love with it and couldn’t let anyone else have it. Telling the people you lived with didn’t cross your mind until you got home and saw three of your roommates sitting in the living room. Good thing for you, Bela, Kimberly, and Whitney were all immediately excited.

"Look, Leighton might not seem to be a cat person, or like a pet person in general… But, this kitten is about to ruin her whole icy vibe, and I, for one, can’t wait." Bela smirked at the idea.

“Oh my Jesus, Leighton is going to kill me!” You said, covering your face with your hands making sure not to crush the little brown furball that sat in your lap. Leighton’s image was very important to her and having a cute little kitten was for sure, not in her ideal look.

Whitney decided it was time for her to step in, “I mean, I get it—Leighton’s not exactly the ‘spontaneous kitten adoption’ type. But honestly, who can resist a kitten? I mean, she’ll probably be annoyed at first because she’s, well, Leighton. But once she sees how cute it is, she’ll come around. Just give her some time. Worst-case scenario, we find someone else who can take care of it.”

You took a second to think, “No I’m definitely going with Kimberly’s emotional support kitten thing. I think that’ll work.”

Just as you finished your sentence, you heard your girlfriend’s keys through the door and quickly moved the kitten onto the couch beside you and got up to meet her at the door. “God, Y/N, are you trying to give me a heart attack? Like, normal people wait at least three feet away from the door.” Leighton put her hand on her chest feigning shock and rolled her eyes then put her purse on one of the empty chairs in the living room before giving you a smile to show she wasn’t actually mad. She moved her hand to your lower back before pulling you into a short but sweet kiss, not caring that all of your roommates were able to see. At the lack of reaction from the roommates about the kiss (As used to you guys kissing as they were, there was usually at least one fake gasp every time you kissed in front of them.), Leighton looked around at all of you with narrowed eyes. “Okay, you’re being weird, what's going on?”

“Baby, please don’t be mad–” You started, immediately abandoning the emotional support kitten idea, before getting cut off as Leighton noticed the tiny, brown creature staring up at her with bright eyes. The look comically similar to a look you would give Leighton when you wanted to convince her of something.

“Y/N” Leighton started. “What the hell is that?” She asked, pointing at the kitten and giving you a tight-lipped face that, in your head, you called her ‘trying not to be mad at you’ face.

Whitney, Bela, and Kimberly all quickly got up from their respective seats and rushed into their own rooms. All of which receiving an annoyed look from you and Leighton, albeit for different reasons.

"Okay, baby, hear me out—this tiny angel was all alone and needed a home. Look at those eyes, Leighton! You’re seriously going to tell me you can’t feel your icy heart melting just a little?" You quickly moved to pick up the kitten and held it as if it was a baby while rubbing its belly, causing it to purr loudly.

You gave your girlfriend your best puppy dog eyes, or in this case, kitten eyes, and watched some of her annoyance soften. “"Okay, seriously? You’re trying to win me over with that face? Nice try, but I’m not giving in that easily. It’s gonna knock things over, scratch up the furniture, and I’ll be the one dealing with it."

“No you won’t!” You quickly argued, “5 people live here and Whit, Bela, and Kimberly all already love her so they will for sure help out.” Her expression softened a little more, but there was still a small bit of resistance left. “And I will never make you clean the litter box.”

This promise seemed to be enough for Leighton as she reached out to pet the kitten, "Okay, fine. I’ll guess it’s... kind of cute. But don’t think this means I’m on board with turning our place into a zoo."

You gasped and gave her a bright smile, “You are not going to regret this!” She gave you a smile back and stepped closer to look at the kitten with you and you took this opportunity for another, but slightly longer, kiss.

Leighton was finally smiling at both you and the cat. “Does she have a name?” She asked, causing you to smile sheepishly.

“Nutella,” You giggled.

Leighton, while still smiling, side-eyed you. “Y/N, I said yes to the cat but I will not be having a cat that everyone ends up calling Nut.”

You look at her slightly embarrassed as you had definitely not thought that through, “Maybe we rethink the name then.”

“It’ll come to us,” She smiled back at you.

Later that night, you came out of the bathroom after your nighttime routine to find Leighton on the bed, reading a book about some new mathematical theory (that she would attempt to explain to you later and you wouldn’t even slightly understand, but listen anyway cause listening to her nerd out was always fun for you), with Nutella laying on her chest purring louder than you had ever thought the little thing could.

“Looks like you’ve replaced me,” You joked.

Leighton looked up at you and then down at the kitten and smiled. “I think there’s room for the both of you.”

You laughed softly before getting into the bed next to her. Leighton put her book on the nightstand, careful not to disturb the little furball, and turned off the lamp. You immediately took the opportunity to rest your head on the side of her chest the kitten wasn’t occupying and brought your hand, which normally sat on Leighton’s stomach underneath her shirt, up to pet your new baby. “Thank you for letting me keep her,” you spoke softly.

Leighton brought her hand up to rub your back. “Anything to make you happy, Y/N.” You sighed contently, feeling her hand. “Plus, she’s kinda sweet. It’s like a really small, furry version of you.”

You laughed softly, “I love you, Leighton.” Your smile and tiredness easily audible in your voice.

“I love you too, Y/N.” Leighton said before you both fell asleep.

#reneé rapp x reader #renee rapp #the sex lives of college girls #slocg #tslocg #whitney chase #bela malhotra #renee rapp x reader #renee rapp x y/n #reneé rapp #leighton murray x reader #leighton murray #leighton murray x fem!reader

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saltcxrcle · 4 days ago

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best friend's brother ── . ✶ c. miller

summary: you weren't one for clichés, but you ended up falling into one anyway

pairings: clay miller x reader, clay miller x fem!readerノ: wc: 4.4k warnings: set after the events of the movie, no use of 'y/n', falling for your best friends brother trope, slight enemies to lovers, smoking (both reader and clay), mentions of the events of the movie, flangst, shot gunning, some sexual tension, kissing, making out, fluff at the end, kinda edited; all mistakes are my own a/n: RAHH CLAYY MILLER MY LOVE!! my first fic for this final boy (and it certainly won't be the last) also i had to make up a lot of shit for bc we get crumbs of clay's backstory and the timeline of the movie, so is this canon? absolutely not! but that's what fanfiction is for :p so enjoy me writing for a jarpad character that isn't sam winchester <33 clay miller masterlist

GOD THIS WAS SO CLICHE.

Sitting on the porch with Clay and sharing a cigarette while your heart was beating so fast at how close he was, your shoulders were touching as fingers brushed against one another as you passed the dwindling cigarette between the two of you. You thought that you would be the exception to the rule of falling for your best friend’s older brother.

You had been best friends with Whitney since you moved to New Jersey when you were four years old, and your mom made your small family of three introduce themselves to their next-door neighbors.

You remember you hid behind your mom’s leg when the door opened, and a woman with brown hair and kind eyes answered the door. You hadn’t wanted to move from your old house in California. But your dad had found a better job across the country and moved despite your complaints, dismissing you because you were a kid and didn’t know any better.

But the woman at the front door managed to coax you out from behind your mom when she mentioned that she had made cookies the day before and asked if you wanted one. You lit up at the prospect of getting a sweet treat before dinner that day. The woman introduced herself as Miss Jenny and called for her kids to come and meet the new neighbors while she grabbed a cookie for you.

You could hear the thundering of footsteps from the open door, and a boy who looked to be around two years older than you and a girl your age came into the doorway. Your parents introduced themselves to them while you stared at the floor, shyness creeping back into your system, and all you wanted to do was dash to your new house.

But the girl was bright and bubbly and didn’t seem to mind your shyness.

“Hi! I’m Whitney!” She greeted you cheerfully.

You murmured your name in response, just barely being able to meet her hazel eyes.

“Here you go sweetie.” Miss Jenny had come back from the kitchen and handed you the cookie on a napkin from behind her kids.

“Thank you.” You said quietly as you sent her a small smile.

The boy scowled. “Mom! That was the last cookie!”

“Clay.” Miss Jenny's tone sounded like your mom’s when you didn’t listen to her. “We can make more later.” She promised him.

The boy you now knew as Clay looked slightly happier, but his eyebrows were still scrunched as he stared at the cookie in your hands. Clay huffed before ducking back into the house.

Your lips were pursed. “He can have it if he wants.” You went to hand the cookie back, but Miss Jenny shook her head.

“It’s fine sweetie, I planned to make some more tomorrow anyway.”

Whitney looked at your parents. “Is it okay if she could come over and play with me tomorrow?”

You stared at Whitney in surprise. You hadn’t expected to make a friend this quickly.

You looked behind you to see your parents nodding.

“Of course!” Your mom said with a smile.

From that day on, you and Whitney stuck beside each other like glue. You were the more introverted one out of the two of you, while Whitney was the social butterfly. But she never once left you behind and always tried to get you out of your shell. Whitney was the sun to your moon; the two of you balanced each other perfectly. Meanwhile, you and Clay never seemed to get along with each other. It wasn’t like you did anything to him, but he took you getting the last cookie personally and made it known.

He was relentless in his teasing of Whitney and you if you were over at their house, which was quite often. And it didn’t stop when you guys grew up, if anything, Clay acted more like a dick when he was a teenager. He went through his “bad boy” phase, as you would like to call it. You heard all about him ditching class, getting a motorcycle, smoking, and going to parties from Whitney as you and your parents helped her with their mom.

Eventually, Clay left your life when you were fifteen and he was seventeen. Your parents took Whitney under their wing, and the two of you grew closer than ever as you supported her while her mom went through her chemo treatments. But you guys slowly drifted apart when you guys got into different colleges.

Whitney wanted to stay local to help with her mom while you tried to go to school in New York. Although you wanted to stick by Whitney and apply to schools in the state, she encouraged you to apply to your dream schools in New York. You remember the day you left for NYU, which was bittersweet, filled with tears and promises that you’d call often and come back home for the holidays, which you did.

Your world turned upside down a few years later, and you were finishing your last year of undergrad. Whitney had gone missing, her mom died, and Clay came crashing back into your life.

You remember the day of Miss Jenny’s funeral and seeing him for the first time in years at the podium, speaking about his mother. You managed to make it to the funeral, letting your professors know about the family emergency and taking the first flight to New Jersey back to your hometown.

You vaguely remember Whitney telling you about calling Clay and getting into a fight about not helping and being there for their mom.

You lingered in the cemetery long enough for Clay to approach you.

“Whitney’s missing.” Clay’s voice was slightly thick with grief as he stared at you hard.

Your brows furrowed. “What?”

“Are you kidding? Did you not notice her absence here?” He gestured to the nearly empty graveyard.

“Of course I did!” You scowled at him. That was all you could think about, but you didn’t want to question him when he was being bombarded with his own family members and receiving condolences from others.

“When was the last time you talked to her?”

“I can tell you it was more recent than you had.” You couldn’t help but snark at Clay, crossing your arms over your chest.

Clay glared at you, his jaw clenching in frustration. “When?”

You sighed. “Right before she hit a dead zone. Whitney told me about the camping trip with her boyfriend and his friends.”

“And you haven’t checked in on her?”

“She said she wasn’t going to have service.” You said through gritted teeth. “Besides, I've been a little busy with school.”

“So school is more important than your missing best friend.” Clay nodded in mock understanding. “Got it.” He flashed you a sarcastic grin before shaking his head, his hair falling in his eyes.

“Oh, fuck you! Says the guy who ran off doing god knows what and refused to come home to help his sister care for their dying mother.” You pointed a finger into his chest. “Do not accuse me of not caring for your family when it's clear you didn’t in the first place.”

Clay’s eyes flashed with anger as his nostrils flared. He stared down at you with a clenched jaw but said nothing.

The two of you stared at each other in tense silence. Your eyes took in Clay for the first time since you saw him earlier. If it was possible, he grew even taller since he was seventeen, and he definitely filled out his lanky frame—the broadness of his shoulders wasn’t something you could overlook. Clay’s hair was the longest you’ve ever seen, but his eyes kept the intensity he had since he first laid eyes on you. The hazel color swirled and shifted into a stormy grey like the overcast sky overhead.

Clay was attractive—you weren’t blind. There were times when you thought he was cute in your youth, but his callous attitude towards you never failed to remind you why you never tried to befriend him.

“Help me look for her.” Clay whispered into the silent afternoon, breaking the tense atmosphere.

You closed your eyes as you took a step back, putting a distance between you and Clay. “I can’t.” You murmured, your heart cracking at your admission.

“Why not?”

“I don’t have time.”

“What do you mean you don’t have time? Your best friend is missing!” Clay looked at you incredulously. The person that Clay knew would have said yes to him in a heartbeat.

You could feel the tears that you kept suppressed all day, threatening to spill over. “I’m going back tonight.”

Clay scoffed. “Back to New York right? To some big fancy school in the big city while Whitney is out there missing? Some best friend you are.” The venom dripped from his voice as he shook his head, disappointed.

You had no idea that Clay even knew where you were going to school or that he apparently kept tabs on your life. But his remark about going back to school instead of looking for Whitney got under your skin, but you’d never admit to it, never to his face.

“Fuck you, Clay Miller.” You spit out, fury coating your words. You walked away, shoving at his shoulder with your own. You didn’t want to be there any longer than you had to with Clay.

About a month later, after graduating, you were back home for the summer, having applied to grad school in New Jersey, and you would stay at your childhood home until you found a job and an apartment. You had gotten a call from an unknown number, which you almost didn’t pick up, but there was a pull in your gut that compelled you to answer.

The woman on the phone asked for your name, which you confirmed. She called to inform you that Whitney was in the hospital, and you needed to come in and check in on her.

The phone call was soon over at that point; you quickly grabbed your bag and left the house hastily. You vaguely remember your parents asking where you were in a rush for, spitting out that Whitney was in the hospital and that you’d call them once you saw her in the flesh.

The drive was short, almost breaking all the traffic laws to get to the hospital as fast as you could. Anxiety twisted at your stomach as you walked through the lobby; your voice was wavering, asking the nurse at the desk about Whitney.

The nurse had a reassuring smile on her face as she looked up your information, and once you confirmed your identity, she led you to Whitney’s room.

You practically sobbed in relief at the sight of Whitney, bringing her into a fierce hug as the two of you cried in each other’s arms. You guys had a tight grip on one another as she shoved her head into the crook of your neck.

You guys only pulled apart until no more tears were running down your faces. You wiped at your face with your jacket as you pulled back and took in Whitney’s appearance.

She looked a little thinner from the last time you saw her, and you knew Whitney had some cracked ribs and a few other bruises, but other than that, she was fine. But you had a feeling that what she saw or experienced was worse than how she looked right now. You had so many questions fluttering around in your head but kept them to yourself so as to not overwhelm her.

You went to open your mouth to say something, but before you could, the door opened and cut you off before you could speak.

Your head snapped to see Clay entering the room. His clothes were covered in dried mud, and Clay’s shirt was stained beyond recognition. Your eyes zeroed in on his face. There was a large gash on his cheekbone that looked to be cleaned since butterfly bandages were covering the wound.

The two of you locked eyes, his eyes were filled with relief but you could see the lingering fear within his hazel gaze. They flashed with something unfamiliar, but it looked akin to fondness before it was gone.

“Hey.” You murmured, the corners of your lips twitching slightly.

Clay swallowed thickly. “Hey.” He responded with a nod of his head, his dirty hair falling in his eyes. Your eyes followed his hand as he brushed it back, noticing how big they were.

You cleared your throat before you turned back to face Whitney. There was a knowing smirk on her face, and you rolled your eyes at her.

The cold concrete seeped through the thin pajama pants you were wearing as you blew out the smoke from your mouth, the tenseness from your shoulders relaxing as the nicotine flooded your system. Smoke curled around you as moonlight lit the street, and the small porch light you were sitting underneath illuminated the path up your porch as you sat on the steps leading up to your childhood home.

You glanced at the house right next to yours before taking another drag of your cigarette.

It had been over a year since Clay found Whitney. That night you came to the hospital, Whitney and Clay filled you in on what happened hours before they made it to the hospital—being kidnapped at Camp Crystal Lake, Clay finding Whitney, and killing the guy that kidnapped her. You were in shock as they recounted the experience, seeing how Clay could barely get through his story without stumbling over them. Your heart broke when he mentioned how he met Jenna and how she was killed.

They had to spend the night at the hospital for evaluation, and you picked up Jenna the next morning. Clay followed behind you on his motorcycle back to their house. Clay was surprised that the house hadn’t been claimed by the bank, but you explained that your parents helped pay it off, and it was all theirs if they wanted to stay.

You looked away from the house and back down to the cigarette in your hand. It was on its last legs, so you stamped it out and let it rest on the ashtray that you had brought out before taking out your last one of the pack.

“You know those things that wreck your lungs?” The familiar timber of Clay’s voice broke the serenity of the late summer night.”

You huffed, looking at Clay approaching your porch and walking up it. “You’re one to talk Mister ‘I started to smoke in high school’.”

Clay let out a low chuckle, shaking his head, knowing that you were right. “Yeah, but I stopped a couple of years ago. Besides, I thought you hated smoking.”

“Things change.” You murmured as you looked up at Clay. “But I only smoke if I’m stressed or really drunk.” You didn’t know why you felt the need to explain, but seeing Clay in grey sweatpants and a tight v-neck shirt was loosening your tongue.

Fuck, it should be illegal to have shirts that tight. You thought as you saw how Clay's sleeve was snug around his bicep. You swallowed thickly as he sat down next to you, Clay’s scent filling your nose, notes of pine, amber, clean linen, and something that was distinctly him.

“Right, so I’m assuming that you’re stressed then?”

“You’d be correct in that assumption.” You grabbed the lighter from beside the ashtray that was in between you and Clay and lit your cigarette, inhaling as you did and letting your lungs feel the slight burn from the process.

“Can I bum one off of you?” Clay was silently glad that you kept your gaze in front of you, his eyes zeroing in on how your lips wrapped around the filter.

“Thought you stopped smoking Mr. Paramedic?” You asked with a smirk, blowing the smoke from the side of your mouth as you turned to look at him.

“I like to indulge from time to time.” Clay couldn’t help but smirk back at you.

If someone told you that you could hold a conversation with Clay without wanting to strangle him when you were a teen, or better yet, a year ago—you would have laughed straight into their face.

In the past year, there were bumps in the road after Clay and Whitney came back home. There were a lot of late nights staying up because of nightmares from both of the Miller siblings (whether Clay wanted to admit it or not), and it was clear that they were struggling with them.

You remembered how Clay’s face twisted when you handed him a business card with your mom’s practice on the front of it.

“Mom can’t take you as her client because of conflict of interest and whatnot, but she has a few other people that you can be referred to.” You explained after seeing Clay stare hard at the card in his hands.

“I don’t need-”

“Nope, you do need it, don't deny it.” You quickly shut down any protests coming from him.

You saw how much he pretended to be okay, to be strong for his sister, who suffered from nightmares as well. But Whitney was proactive and started therapy after one terrible nightmare that plagued her for days after she had it.

Ever since the siblings moved back into their childhood home, you were there almost every night to help and comfort Whitney. One night, Whitney was sleeping soundly, but as you were walking back from the bathroom, you passed by Clay’s room and heard murmuring, followed by a quiet shout of Whitney’s name.

You opened the door to see his head jerking side to side, his eyes shut tight, and tiny no’s falling from his lips.

You made your way to the edge of his bed. “Wake up! Clay!” You called his name out in a whispered shout as you shook his shoulder.

Clay’s eyes snapped open, and he woke up with a sharp gasp. He sat up quickly. The blanket that was covering him fell from his chest and pooled around his waist. His eyes were frantic as he looked around his room before they met yours.

Clay visibly relaxed when he realized that he was at home and rubbed at his face. “Sorry if I woke you up.” His voice was rough and thick with exhaustion as he mumbled his words

You shook your head. “You didn’t.” You replied with a whisper.

You realized that your hand was still on his shoulder—Clay’s bare shoulder. Your eyes flickered down his body, he wasn’t wearing a shirt and you could see his tanned skin being illuminated by the soft glow of the moonlight peaking through his curtains. You almost choked on your breath at the sight of his sculpted body, so you immediately averted your gaze and ripped your hand off of his shoulder.

You locked eyes with Clay again, and something passed between the two of you. When the Miller’s came back, Clay was still cold towards you but after this night, things changed between you. There was this unspoken tension between you, but a tentative friendship started to develop over the months.

You remember how he came to you and told you about planning to be a Paramedic and that he had started the process of being trained. Something in your chest warmed when Clay revealed that you were the first person he told.

“Besides I’m not a paramedic yet.” Clay shook his head. His hair was getting long enough to where he could tuck the wayward strands behind his ears.

“Right but you'll be one soon." You waved his words off. "It’s my last one.” You told him, waving around the now-lit cigarette. “But I’m feeling generous.” You passed it over to Clay.

“I’m honored.” Clay joked as he took it from you, his fingers brushing against yours, and the brief contact sent a shiver down your spine.

You practically had to tear your eyes away from Clay; seeing his lips wrapped around the cigarette and taking a drag was making you feel warm, and you stared out into the street.

With the friendship that you built with Clay, you learned a lot more about him from him rather than from Whitney. He was witty, kind, caring, and fiercely loyal to the ones he cared about. Somehow, along the way of developing this friendship, you started to fall for him. But I pushed it down because there was no way that Clay wouldn’t see you as more than Whitney’s best friend.

“I’m sorry.” Clay said after he exhaled the smoke, passing the cig back to you.

Your eyebrows furrowed before taking a drag. “For what?” You asked, blowing the smoke away from him and tapping the excess ash in the tray.

“For being a dick to you at the funeral.”

“Oh.” You were slightly surprised that he even brought it up. You guys hadn’t really rehashed any problems that had occurred before you guys became friends.

“And for being an asshole to you growing up.” Clay added when you didn’t say anything else.

You chuckled. “At least you’re owning up to the fact that you were mean to me when we were younger.” The cigarette was a little halfway done, and Clay took it from your outstretched hand.

Clay huffed a laugh through his nose after he inhaled some of the smoke. “Yeah, well you took the last cookie so we had gotten off on the wrong foot.”

“I get that." You snickered quietly. The cookies that Clay's mom used to make were delicious. "But you continued to tease me even when we grew up. Especially when we were teens.” You pointed out with a raised brow after you calmed down, looking at Clay with a knowing look.

He shook his head. “That was because I thought you were pretty and I didn’t want to find my little sister’s best friend pretty.”

You swallowed hard as you felt your heart start to pound against your chest. “Ah.” your voice was slightly hoarse before you cleared it. “So, you decided to be mean. God, you were such a teenage boy.” You teased as you shook your head.

Clay laughed. “Yeah, well it's not like I knew how to talk to girls all that well. The ones I really liked at least.” Clay corrected himself when he saw the sharp glance you shot him.

“Do you still find her pretty?” You asked boldly.

“Who?” Clay’s eyebrows furrowed, and there was a wrinkle in between them that you wanted to smooth out with your thumb.

“Your little sister’s best friend?” You bit your bottom lip as you met his gaze, nerves ratting your senses.

The wrinkle between his brows became more prominent before it smoothed out, and a smirk pulled at his lips. “Yeah, she’s gorgeous now.”

You couldn’t help but smile at him. “That’s good. You still like her?”

“Yeah, even after all these years, I don’t think I ever stopped.” Clay leaned in closer to you, his scent getting more potent and more intoxicating, with smoke lingering around the two of you.

“That’s good to hear.” You murmured in the tiny space that was left between you and Clay.

“Want to finish this off?” He tapped off the excess ash of the almost-finished cigarette.

“Sure.” You went to pluck it out of his hand. But he brought it up to his lips instead of taking the last drag of it—the orange glow of the cigarette illuminated the amusement that filled his eyes. You looked at him in confusion.

Clay extinguished the now-finished cigarette into the ashtray, his mouth and lungs filled with smoke. He took your chin in between his thumb and forefinger and tipped your face up towards him.

Your mouth parted instinctively as his lips got closer to yours until there was only a sliver of space between the two of you, and you knew what he was trying to do. It had been a while since you shotgunned anything with someone, but doing it with Clay was making a heat pool in your lower belly.

Clay started to blow a steady stream of smoke into your mouth as you inhaled it, your eyes locked on his increasingly darkening ones, his pupil eclipsing the hazel color of his gaze. Your hands itched to grab his face and pull his lips towards his, but let him shotgun the remnants of your cigarette with you.

You blew out the smoke once you had inhaled it all, and the two of you were left staring at each other. Clay's fingers on your chin moved to extend and encompass your jaw, and his thumb was resting on your bottom lip.

Your noses were brushing against each other as your hand hesitantly rested on his clothed thigh.

You blinked up at him, eyelashes practically fluttering against his cheek. “Kiss me.”

Instead of a response, Clay’s lips descended onto yours, and fireworks sparked behind your eyes as Clay kissed you passionately. His other hand came to rest on your free cheek as you moved closer to him, the hand on his thigh coming to rest on his waist.

You couldn’t think about anything else but Clay, the flavor of nicotine and mint flooded your taste buds as Clay’s tongue danced with yours. You hadn’t felt like this with anyone else before, the world faded as you lost yourself in the feeling of Clay’s soft lips against yours. It was overwhelming in the best way possible, and you could feel arousal zipping through your body as Clay dominated the kiss.

The two eventually broke apart, unfortunately needing air that was in your depleted lungs. But you didn’t stray far, resting your foreheads together as you took in sharp breaths together. You opened your eyes to find Clay already looking at you, his gaze filled with adoration and lust.

“Do you want to go on a date with me?” Clay asked, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“Shouldn’t you have asked me that before you kissed me?” You had a teasing smile on your face. But you felt giddy at the idea of Clay taking you out.

Clay rolled his eyes. “I didn’t hear you complaining about it.”

You giggled at his words, riding the blissful feeling that flooded your veins from the kiss the two of you shared. “You’re not wrong. But I’d love to.”

Clay sent you a bright smile that filled your stomach with butterflies. “Good.” He murmured before leaning in again and pulling you into a gentle kiss, making you melt into it.

Yeah, falling for your best friend’s brother was cliche, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

62 notes · View notes