hi!! so about Biker Boy from BBD - his #1 non-vanilla interest is choking. what would he do with a partner who reallyyy doesn't like that, due to trauma or otherwise? thank you (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡ - 🌺
🤝 you and me both anon LMAO!! thank you for the ask <3 this is all x reader fanfiction, not any kind of theory etc!!
warnings: nsft, choking, implied trauma, darker tone with manipulation at the end oops so skip the last paragraph if you're not into that
while bb might be rough during sex, that doesn't mean that he enjoys genuinely making you upset. he really does not. during normal interactions, he panics when he comes across as rude, so there's no way he would randomly, purposely trigger your trauma if he knows about it. there's no way his own preferences would outweigh your wellbeing.
still, he might not think to ask before the first time he does it. none of the other girls he's been with had an averse reaction. but if he puts his hand around your throat and you panic, looking at with him genuine, life-or-death fear in your eyes in the throes of a flashback, that instantly kills his boner COMPLETELY and makes him very upset with himself. he really, really did not mean to, and he won't be forgetting that look anytime soon.
once you've calmed down, he might overwhelm you with a barrage of questions. bb is completely fine with simple 'yes' or 'no' questions, he's simply trying to map out the different ways you might respond the best he can.
so he'll ask, methodically: are kisses on the throat acceptable? are shoulder pats acceptable? would putting his hands on your collarbone be acceptable? he is very thorough, to say the least. and once he knows your limits, he will enforce them when it comes to anyone else approaching you as well. (a part of him is also quite curious about the story behind it, though he restrains himself as much as he's able to since you look so uncomfortable even discussing the topic. he does want to know who hurt you so badly.)
after you've made your boundaries clear to him, he won't do anything to chip away or erode at them. he'll find ways to enjoy his preferences in a way that doesn't trigger an extreme flight-or-flight response.
he might become fond of putting the tip of his thumb in the little hollow in the middle where your throat meets your ribcage, the soft skin in between where he can feel your heart racing underneath his touch as he pounds into you. or to have you in his lap, hugged against his chest so close with the strength of his arms, hands fanned out over your back, that it still feels crushing. suffocating, almost, without the crush of his hand closing around your neck.
(...at the same time, i can't help but wonder if there would be certain situations where bb would use such an easily accessible, instant freeze response against you. there are points where he is so angry he doesn't seem to mind that you fear him, at least not in the moment. so would he consider putting his hand around your throat, without applying pressure, to freeze you in your steps at the cost of your trust? if he deemed it neccessary?)
author’s note: this turned out shorter than i wanted to be but i just wanted to write something for the (alleged) white boy of the year 😔… rushed ending btw !
content warning/s: MDNI, f!reader, explicit smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, gagging, sex inside the stockroom… let me know if i missed any!
lane thinks he can finally die a happy man.
“see how m-much more tolerable you are when you shut up?” you groan, looking down at him furrowed brows. the man below you weakly moans—half lidded eyes with pupils blown wide stare up at you.
the sight has his cock twitching inside you.
can you blame him though? he’s got his favorite pretty coworker bouncing on his dick in the stockroom with a mean glare and a mean mouth, your panties lodged in his mouth. and oh, he can’t forget about the way your chest is pressed snug against his too.
there’s a thin sheen of sweat that decorates his forehead, brow piercing glistening under the fluorescent lights of the shitty stockroom.
it’s no denying that lane is (unfortunately) attractive… but seeing him like this—brain numb and mouth shut is just the cherry on top.
your nails dig into his cheeks, forcing his mouth open. the fabric of your underwear peaks through his lips, already drenched with his spit.
the wet sounds of your ass hitting his pelvis fills the small room, accompanied by the groans and whimpers lane lets out. you should be disgusted—ashamed even, for messing around with this… misogynistic freak especially in your place of work.
…but with how good his dick is stirring your insides, you can’t really bring yourself to care right now.
wrapping you arms around his neck, you bury your flushed face on his shoulder and take a firm bite on the skin. he shudders at the contact, and you can’t help but soothe it with kisses that trail across his jaw.
“can i… can i come inside, please?” lane practically begs through his stuffed mouth, large hands gripping your hips. he looks so cute like this, you think—with saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth and brows scrunched together in bliss…
how can you say no to that face?
you feel his cock twitch inside you and the knot in your lower stomach tighten with each movement of your hips. “lane…!” you mewl close to his ear.
he holds you close as he finishes with a groan, spurts of his release flooding your pussy with warmth—creating a sticky mess between your thighs.
it’s quiet for moment as you both catch your breath, body slumping against his as yours turn limp. his arms remain wrapped around your sides, and you feel him slowly remove the soiled fabric from his mouth.
he hums, inspecting the cloth between his fingers.
bb's route spoilers <3 i've had this in my drafts for a week and i just needed to post it T0T go forth my serkan fic...i hope i didn't fuck up ur character too bad...
“I can take him.”
The mechanics all fall silent at the sound of your voice, five heads turning to face you. Pressing your lips together, you meet their stares, trying to come up with something to say.
It makes sense. You don't have a shift before tonight, and they're all so far behind on their work that it would be foolish to drag any of them away for a follow up appointment. You have no doubt any one of them would go with Serkan, but right now, you're channeling your inner BB—efficiency is best, and you are, without a doubt, their most efficient option.
"You okay with that, Serkan?" Sal asks, arms crossed over his chest.
"Yeah! That's fine with me," he replies softly, lacking the spunk he had before the accident.
You meet BB'S eyes across the room and he scratches his jaw. You can feel his gaze through his visor—he knows what you're thinking and he knows what you're trying to do for them.
So he lets you go.
You make it to the doctor's office and stand behind Serkan as he talks with the receptionist. It's been a while since the accident, but you can still pick up on his nervous energy. Time well spent with him has taught you his quirks—how he jiggles his legs when he thinks too hard, how his hands clench and unclench when he laughs nervously, how his eyes seem to stare hard into any empty stretch of wall.
How he cringes away from blood.
How he looks exactly like you.
When the conversation with the receptionist is over, you follow Serkan to the neat rows of soft, cushy blue chairs. The white, liminal walls cloud your vision as you sit next to him. There's a single painting on the far wall of some nondescript meadow, but Serkan's eyes are not pulled to it. He sits, hunched over, hands clasped together as his leg jitters. He's not looking at the painting or the walls or the stump where his finger used to be.
Instead, he looks up at you.
Then down at the floor.
Then off to the chair on his left.
Then back at you.
"Is everything okay?" you ask softly, tilting your head to meet his gaze.
"Fine! Yes!" he jerks up, spine straightening almost immediately, "Sorry."
You laugh under your breath, shaking your head, "Don't say sorry. You haven't done anything wrong."
"But—" he blurts, mouth hanging open uselessly as the rest of the sentence forms in his head.
"But?" you offer, searching his eyes for something, anything.
"But I...I took you away from work. And stuff. So sorry." he murmurs, feet shuffling awkwardly against the tile.
"You didn't take me away from anything," you furrow your brow.
"But, uh—sorry," he fiddles with his thumbs, laughing nervously, "Uh, is BMW okay with this?"
You freeze, confused. What does BB have to do with this? Of course he'd be okay with you looking out for one of his friends. Coworkers? Does BB have friends—?
"Why wouldn't he be?" you ask, confusion evident in your voice.
"Ah, I dunno," Serkan waves his arms around aimlessly, as if the motion alone will be able to properly convey his thoughts, "You...and me? I mean, not like that, sorry—but like, yeah? I mean...sorry."
That made no sense.
“Serkan,” you sigh, a smile playing at the edges of your lips, “I don’t know why BB would have a problem with me being here with you. Can you explain it to me?”
“...”
“It’s okay if you don’t know how.”
“...”
“BB and I aren’t an item, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve known him for a handful of months now but it’s not like I’ve known you guys less.”
“You’re...not?” Serkan looks up at you, finally meeting your gaze.
His eyes are full of wonder, a spark of something, as if he hadn’t dared hope for this very outcome. You laugh a little, warmth blooming in your chest—of course he’d keep this to himself, what kind of guy would step on his coworker’s toes like that? Not Serkan. Not the Serkan you know.
“I was literally on call with you and your family last week!” you smile, laughing harder now, “Sure, it was brief, but like—Serkan, come on—!”
“Hey—! I mean, what!? How was I supposed to know—!?” he stumbles, cheeks flushed red, hands waving in the air again like they always do, “I just thought you were being nice!”
“I’m nice to BB. I’m sweet on you. I hope you know the difference.”
“Urk...sorry...” he hangs his head like a kicked puppy.
“Serkan— !” you can’t help it, this time you do laugh, loud enough to cause the seven year old in the corner to look up from his mother’s iPod, “Don’t look so depressed, I’m just teasing.”
“You were joking...?” he looks up at you again, gnawing on his lower lip.
“No, silly. Teasing. I'm one hundred percent serious otherwise."
Then, you get the absolute pleasure of watching a flustered smile spread across his lips. You open your mouth to say something, anything to stop him from getting in his own head, but then a nurse steps into the waiting room and calls his name.
Serkan startles, as if he'd forgotten where he was. He turns to you with a look of flustered regret.
"It's okay, I'll still be here. Someone's gotta hold down the fort," you smile reassuringly, waving him to his appointment.
He positively beams, looking lighter than you've ever seen him.
It isn't a solution to his health problems, nor is it a bandage for the consequences of it. But today, you have made his life just a little bit brighter. And that's something you're proud of.
Pairing: Lane x FEM!Reader (Reader is both a dog trainer and a dog herself, make of that what you will 😈)
𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
<previous chapter> - <next chapter>
You shake your head to sweep away the consuming thoughts, forcing yourself to focus on the present instead of getting lost in the tangled web of nostalgia and regret.
You finally move to the bathroom once again, your reflection staring back at you as you stand in front of the mirror.
You are all dolled up now, your makeup flawless and your hair perfectly styled, and you finally take off your daily piercing set, the cheap studs that have been keeping your piercings open, and you carefully put on that one special set.
The one Lane had chosen for you, the one that held so many bittersweet memories, and it fits perfectly, the metal glinting against your skin like tiny stars.
It is a night out with your friends, you remind yourself firmly, and you should not be all down and dewy, because that would just spoil the mood and make everyone worry about you. Whatever is in the past is firmly in the past now, you are moving forward, are you not, you have left that life behind and you are building something new, something that belongs only to you.
So the moment you finish putting on that piercing set, your phone buzzes with a text from Anna, a simple message that says she is on her way to pick you up, and you grab your small purse and head out the door, locking it behind you with a satisfying click.
"Going on some date, sugartits?"
You were in the middle of locking your door when you lifted your head and noticed that Jul was also standing by her own door. Her key in hand and her eyes already on you with that sharp, assessing gaze that always made you feel slightly exposed.
Oh right, you realized.
It was also around the time she got to her work as well, and you glanced at the watch on your wrist slightly before looking up again, your eyes meeting her gaze as you answered her question.
"I am just hanging out with my friends," you said, and that earned a small laugh from her, a soft, melodic sound that seemed to echo in the narrow hallway.
"Good, you should go out more when you are still young," she gave off a comment.
You saw the packet in her hand, the familiar shape of a cigarette pack, and she raised her hand slightly, her lips carefully flicking out a small cigarette that she placed between her fingers with practiced ease.
Her cherry lipstick painted the edge of the cigarette slightly damp with that distinguished crimson, and you could not help but keep your eyes on her, watching the way she moved with such effortless grace.
There was something about Jul that always made people stop and look a bit longer, a magnetic quality that drew your attention whether you wanted it to or not, and her wavy hair fell down to her shoulders so smoothly, like a waterfall cascading over rocks, each lock falling so arbitrarily but at the same time seeming like they fit in exactly where they were meant to be, as if she had been sculpted by an artist who knew exactly what they were doing.
"Something on my face, sweetheart?" she asked out, and you saw the corner of her lip curve up so softly, a tiny movement that was barely perceptible but somehow made your breath catch in your throat.
It was enough to somehow make you shiver, because she was gorgeous and beautiful, you admitted that freely, and she might have used to people staring at her all the time because if not, your staring right now would be considered outright rudeness.
But she did not seem bothered by it at all, she seemed almost amused by your attention.
"It is nothing, I just think your perfume smells nice," you tried to deflect, averting your gaze slightly from her face so you would not get caught staring any longer, but you could still feel her eyes on you.
"Uhm, I get that a lot," she spoke up so casually, but for some reason, her voice was soft like a melody in some old lullaby, soothing and hypnotic and strangely intimate, enough to lure you in, but enough to make you dare to keep your distance also.
Because there was something about her that felt dangerous in the best possible way.
"Do you want to try it?" she asked out quietly.
Your gaze once again fell back to her face, studying the way her long eyelashes curved up slightly even when she was looking down at you, making her gaze somehow even more alluring than usual, as if she was seeing right through all of your carefully constructed walls.
"Can I?" you asked out, your voice carrying both curiosity and a hint of wonder.
You were genuinely surprised she would offer and you wondered if she was really serious or just teasing you.
She just chuckled softly, that warm, intimate sound that seemed to wrap around you, and she pressed the cigarette even further into her plump lips, the darkened crimson of her lipstick staining the paper even more as she took a slow drag.
You watched her slender hands open the small bag she always carried with her, and she only took out a small vial, which seemed to be the decant version of whatever perfume brand she had been using, you did not see any label on the small tube, just the clear glass and the dark liquid inside.
Her hand reached out to yours, and she caught your wrist gently in between her palm, her fingers cool and soft against your skin. You saw the sharp almond nails of hers, a deep crimson that matched her lipstick, glistening under the dim light of the hallway.
She softly sprayed one on the back of your wrist, and you let her do so, the slight dampness coming in contact with your skin, and her cold fingers then rubbed against your skin softly, working the scent into your pulse point with a gentle circular motion.
It was just a small spray, barely a spritz, but the scent seemed to fill up your lungs and the entire hallway at the same time.
A rich, intoxicating fragrance that you could not quite identify but that made you want to breathe deeper. You could smell it, that cherry wine like scent that lingered in the air like a promise, and you looked up at her, your eyes meeting hers in the dim light.
"I think it suits you more than me, sweetheart," her comment caught you off guard a bit.
You had been expecting her to be possessive of her signature scent, but instead she seemed genuinely pleased to share it with you. Her hands continued, spraying your other wrist with the same generous spritz, and then she moved her finger to the back of your neck, slightly right behind your earlobe, and you almost squirmed out of startled surprise, the coldness of her finger coming in contact with your sensitive skin making you jump slightly.
She was leaning so close that her lock of red fire hair fell down softly, grazing your skin slightly, and for a moment, the scent lingered between you and her, and now you both smelled exactly the same, the cherry wine fragrance mingling with the warmth of your bodies. You almost could not tell whether it was her scent or yours anymore.
"I still think it is your color," you spoke up quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.
When she slowly pulled her hands away with a small, satisfied smile, and you watched her tuck the vial back into her bag with a casual grace.
"How adorable of you to say so," she spoke up quietly, her eyes closing with her smile.
Those sweet words falling out of her lips as she suddenly wrapped her arm in arm with you, linking you together in an intimate gesture that felt both friendly and somehow more than friendly.
She began to lead you to the stairs.
"Let us go, I suppose we both have people waiting for us, yeah?" she said, her voice warm and light, and you let yourself be led.
*☆ *☆ *☆
You gave Jul a wave when she got to the car waiting for her right at the block, the sleek black vehicle idling at the curb, and you saw a man leaning against the car, waiting for her with an air of patient boredom.
It was Marek, you recognized him from the few times you had seen him picking her up, and he did not seem to pay attention to you at all, only giving you a brief, dismissive look before he opened the door for Jul and quickly got inside himself.
"Hey!" Anna rolled down the window of her car as she called for you, her voice bright and excited, and you felt a genuine smile spread across your face at the sight of her.
"Hey," you greeted her back before getting into the passenger seat, the familiar scent of her car enveloping you like a warm hug.
"Oh doll face, you look so pretty tonight," she let out a teasing compliment, her eyes scanning your outfit and makeup with approval, and you just laughed at her words and threw the compliment right back at her.
"I can say the same to you, gorgeous," you replied, and her laugh echoed in the car as she started the engine and began to drive off, the streetlights casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across her face.
"Oh, you changed your perfume, babe?" she asked out, and she made that exaggerating sniff with her nose as if she was some type of animal tracking a scent.
You could not help but laugh at her antics. "Ah no, the neighbor just let me try hers," you explained a bit awkwardly.
You were not quite sure how to describe the strange, intimate encounter you had just had with Jul, and Anna only gave you a small look through the corner of her eyes, a knowing glance that made you feel slightly exposed.
"Well, it smells good, seems to suit you," she made a small comment as she continued to focus on the road, her hands steady on the steering wheel, and then she added, "She has good taste."
You just nodded at her comment, your mind still half occupied with the lingering scent of cherry wine and the memory of cool fingers on your skin.
"Yep, she indeed has good taste," you agreed.
For the moment, you two talked about so many things during the drive, the conversation flowing easily and naturally as you caught up with each other's lives, and it was not a long drive, but it was long enough for you both to reconnect and share the small, mundane details that made up your respective existences.
Your first stop was at some restaurant with the rest of the group already there, a cozy little place with warm lighting and the comforting buzz of conversation.
The plan was to dine out before you hit any pub nearby, because what was a girls' night without food and alcohol in equal measure.
The atmosphere was nice and everybody seemed to have their lives settled and figured out in some sense, there was a palpable sense of contentment in the air that made you feel both happy for them and acutely aware of your own drifting uncertainty. As for you, you were still confused about what you planned to do with your future, still fumbling in the dark without a clear direction, and that uncertainty weighed on you more than you usually let yourself admit.
"You still work at that convenient store you told us last time?" someone suddenly asked.
The question cuts through the flow of conversation and draws everybody's attention onto you.
You put down your fork slightly when you hear their question, feeling the weight of their collective gaze.
"Yeah, I plan to quit soon, but the new one is still trying to get a hang of it, and the other employee is not really helping at all," you answered, your voice steady and matter-of-fact.
You were not ashamed of your work, you did not do anything illegal or immoral, so why should you be ashamed because of some minimum wage job that paid your bills and kept a roof over your head. Most people on this table also had minimum wage jobs, you reminded yourself. They were just better at finding what they enjoyed doing than you were, they had figured out their passions and their paths while you were still stumbling around in the dark.
Anna giggled beside you, joined by some other girls at the table, as they all seemed to share a knowing look, and one of them spoke up.
"Oh, you mean the one with the pretty face but the foul mouth you talked about," she said, and just the mention of him already gave you a severe headache.
The familiar throb of annoyance pulsing behind your eyes, and you pressed your fingers between your eyebrows in a futile attempt to ease the tension.
"Yes, him," you confirmed.
Your tone carried a tired resignation that made the others chuckle sympathetically.
"Guess that is what people call pretty privilege," someone spoke up, and the conversation continued to flow naturally.
Nobody really pressed the matter further as people just moved on from different topics to different topics, the easy rhythm of old friends catching up after too long apart.
There were reasons why you had stayed in this circle for so long, and one of them was that people in this group knew when to ask questions and when not to, they respected each other's privacy and personal matters without pushing for details that were not offered freely.
You had fallen out with numerous people before over that exact issue, people who had criticized you for nearly everything you had done, especially about your drinking problem before, and you knew it was not a good thing, you knew you had been spiraling and self-destructive.
But at the time, you had also been devastated by your state, drowning in grief and pain, and those people had really not helped at all, their judgment only adding to the weight you were already carrying.
But this group, these women, understood that sometimes the best thing you could offer a friend was simply your presence and your silence, and that was why you loved them, that was why you kept coming back even when everything inside you wanted to hide away and isolate yourself from the world.
*☆ *☆ *☆
So in the end, you still go to the pub with the group despite no longer consuming any type of alcohol. Anna had assured you that she picked out this specific pub because they seemed to serve non-alcoholic stuff too, so you could enjoy your drink while not having to worry about others judging you or pressuring you to join in on the drinking.
And so you did, though it was not uncommon for people to come to a pub only to call some non-alcoholic beverage, but only calling lemonade, that seemed to attract quite lots of eyes and attention that you did not want too.
People always seemed to find it strange when someone came to a place dedicated to alcohol and ordered something so innocuous and childish. Some of your friends were hanging out somewhere especially near the stage, because there was a live show tonight and they seemed to have invited a small band to come and play.
Your friends seemed to enjoy that as they gathered near the stage, their laughter and cheers blending with the music in a way that felt distant and muffled to your ears. Left behind, there was only you and one girl who was uninterest enough to stay at the bar top without going anywhere, and her name was Cindy. You two had also been friends for quite a while now, though she was also one of a few who had moved out of the town and only came to visit once in a while when her schedule allowed.
"It has been a while since I last saw you wear that piece," Cindy's sudden words drew your attention from your glass to her face.
You did not quite catch what she was talking about at first, but then you noticed her gaze land on your ear as you let out a small smile and touched your earlobe where the piercing set lay, the metal cool and familiar against your fingertips.
"Yeah, I think it is time to let them see some of the light," you answered her quietly, your voice soft and contemplative.
She did not seem to make any further comment on the matter, just nodded slowly as if she understood the weight behind your words.
"Do you have any plan after quitting that job?" her question once again caught your attention as your eyes locked with hers, and you could see the genuine curiosity and concern reflected in her gaze.
The way she was trying to look out for you in her own subtle way.
"Well, not really," you placed your chin on your palm as you leaned slightly on the counter.
The wood cool and smooth against your elbow, and you let out a small sigh.
"I have not really had much thought in my mind," you answered her between the chatter and the music in the background. The noise swirling around you like a living thing.
"But I guess I would not pick on any other night work, such a hassle," you continued.
She chuckled softly at your words, a warm sound that made you feel slightly less alone in the crowded pub.
"Yeah, indeed, I used to work a night shift too, not recommend," Cindy said
You agreed with her on that, because night shifts were soul crushing in ways that day workers could never truly understand, the way they messed with your sleep schedule and your mental health and your entire perception of time.
"And I heard there recently some serial killer on the loose, targeting night workers also," she spoke up as she shifted her body on the stool slightly, her posture becoming more serious as she leaned in closer to you.
"I did not mean it in a rude way, I just worry for you, that is all. After all, we are…" she paused, searching for the right words.
You finished the sentence for her.
"Women?" you said.
She just gave you that bitter look, the one that said she hated having to say it out loud but knew it was the truth. You could sense the concern in both her eyes and her voice. She did not need to explain that, because you both understood how the world was toward women.
You had already gotten used to that by now, and had accepted it as just another part of your daily existence. Sometimes you questioned a lot of things you did, but at the same time, you wondered if there was ever any other way you could do certain things when society did not even give you an option, when the system was rigged against you from the very beginning.
"Last night," you started, and you wondered if you should tell her about the incident that had happened at your workplace, the one that had been playing on your mind ever since it happened.
"There was this dude that tried to attack me," you finally spoke up, and Cindy's eyes widened at your words.
Her face shifted from casual curiosity to genuine alarm in an instant, and she seemed both surprised and concerned as she looked at you, her hand reaching out to grip your arm.
"Oh my god, are you okay? Did anything happen?" she asked out of pure panic, her voice rising slightly above the background noise.
You shook your head to reassure her.
"No, my coworker came out in time, and I was in better shape than him, to be honest," you continued.
But she still had that concerning look on you, the one that said she was not buying your casual dismissal of the situation.
"Do not be so calm about that, what if something really happened?" she argued back to you slightly, her grip on your arm tightening.
"Then consider myself lucky," you emphasized, pulling your arm away gently. "I normally am really cautious, I carry pepper spray and stuff, but you know," you paused, your gaze dropping to the counter, "that experience left me wondering if any of that stuff really can protect me?"
You questioned her, but it was more to yourself as you played with the straw in your half empty glass, the ice clinking softly against the sides.
Cindy's hand placed on your shoulder softly as she spoke up, her voice carrying a warmth that made you look up at her.
"I think you should not work at that place anymore, it seems like a shady hood," she spoke up with sincere concern in her tone, and you looked at her, seeing the worry etched into the lines of her face.
"Anna also said the place you live did not exactly safe either," she added, and you did not answer her.
Because you did not think you would move away in the meantime, not when you had just gotten settled and not when you had nowhere else to go.
You just took a small sip from your straw as you let her words sink in, the watery lemonade doing nothing to quench the thirst that had settled deep in your chest.
"If you need help, you can tell us, we would be more willing to help," she said.
You just smiled at her, a small, grateful expression that you hoped conveyed how much her words meant to you.
"I appreciate you guys, but this is my matter to handle, I will tell you guys if I need anything," you said, and she looked at you with those searching eyes.
"Promise?" she asked out, and you nodded and answered her.
"Promise," you answered.
Before she could say anything else to you, her phone suddenly buzzed slightly, the vibration rattling against the counter, and she let out an exhausted sigh as she glanced at the screen.
"Sorry, I have to take this," she flicked out the phone and looked at the screen before standing up and excusing herself to somewhere quieter, leaving you once again alone with your thoughts.
You did not really mind being alone, even in a group hangout kind of setting.
You just preferred that way, you enjoyed the feeling of being alone as much as having someone by your side, and it was just that sometimes dissociation felt more natural than trying to blend in and engage with the people around you.
So you really enjoyed some time alone like this, and all the noise just seemed to blur to the background around you, the music and chatter becoming a distant hum that you could easily tune out. You played with the straw in your glass slightly, your mind absently wandering elsewhere, drifting through memories and thoughts that you usually kept carefully locked away.
Until you felt like someone sitting down right next to you, right where Cindy had just sat not too long ago, and your eyes finally lifted up slightly, because for a moment, you thought Cindy had returned from her phone call.
"That was qui-" you started, but you stopped mid-sentence when your gaze met with a strange face, some man you did not even know, sitting there with a smile that was supposed to be charming but just made you feel wary.
"May I sit here?" he asked out with a smile, polite enough but also distant enough that you could tell he was testing the waters.
"You already sit," you emphasized.
Your gaze stopping only briefly on the man's face, taking in his features and finding nothing that particularly interested you. He was not your type, that you were sure of, and you did not think you would enjoy any company tonight besides from your friends, so you had no interest in entertaining whatever approach he was about to make.
Your attention fell back to the glass on your counter as the man continued, as if he had not given up or gotten the hint, and his gaze followed yours as it landed on the icy lemonade in front of you.
"Well, then can I buy you some drink?" he asked out another question, his tone low and quiet as it blended well with the background music between both of you.
You looked at the glass, then looked up slightly to answer him, your voice flat and dismissive.
"You are not my type," you said.
Because you really did not want to waste your time or anyone else's time with this back and forth, and tonight you were simply not in the mood for any of that. It was not like people had never approached you and hit on you before.
To be fair, you were the one who got hit on the least in the group, but you still had a decent amount of encounters to get some free drink out of it. Unfortunately, you did not drink anymore, so most of this tactic no longer worked on you, and if you ever played along, it was actually to get some drink for your girlies rather than for yourself.
The dude let out a smile, almost defeated, but still he finally got the hint and backed away.
You preferred that way, people who got the hint fast and quickly stepped away when someone was uninterested to save the time and hassle for both parties.
He just stepped away as he had no further intent to talk to you, and finally the seat next to you was once again empty and you could finally breathe out properly now, letting out a sigh of relief that you had not realized you had been holding.
You pushed the glass away slightly as somehow now it did not taste anything at all, the lemonade that had once been refreshing now just a bland, watery mess.
This pub sucked, they even fucked up a lemonade, which was why your glass was only half empty and the ice had melted to make the taste so bland and unamusing, exactly how you felt right now, dull and hollow and completely uninterested in your surroundings.
But only for a brief moment, someone once again approached you, this time you noticed it sooner as you lifted your gaze up to meet his, your eyes scanning him with a wariness that had become second nature.
He stood at the seat next to you, keeping some distance as his hand placed on the counter, leaning slightly as he called the bartender for some order, and you watched him with guarded curiosity.
"I really like your outfit, especially the piercing," he spoke up so casually, more casually than the guy from earlier.
You raised your eyebrow slightly at his words, your face remaining indifferent even as you took him in more fully.
Well, this guy was more of your type, if you had to admit it.
With his dark curls and his piercings and his lean frame, and for a moment you did not say anything. Just eyes locking on eyes as the guy seemed to take your silence as some progress.
"Sorry if I make you uncomfortable, I just want to have some talk," he continued.
You saw the strand of dark hair fall on his face slightly, and how the piercings on his ears seemed to glisten under the dim light, catching your attention in a way that you had not expected.
He reminded you of someone, dark curls, piercings, a bit tall and lean, pale skin and slender fingers, a tall bride nose.
The only difference was the eye color…
Wait.
You caught yourself wondering why you had suddenly imagined that guy out of anyone, why your mind had conjured his image when you were looking at a complete stranger.
It was just your general type, so why was he now the figure imagined in your head?
Why did this stranger's resemblance make your heart beat just a fraction faster even though you had no interest in him at all?
You covered your lip slightly to prevent yourself from choking on your own thought as the guy seemed concerned by your sudden reaction.
"Are you okay?" he asked out.
Your eyes landed on his face once again, taking in his features with a more critical eye.
He was good looking, you gave him that, but not good looking enough for you to want to have some company or feel entertained. Not when your mind was clearly elsewhere, not when the only person you kept thinking about was the one who had been occupying your thoughts far too much lately.
And the eye color, what was the point if his eyes seemed so dull to you anyway, a flat, uninteresting shade that held none of the depth or intensity that you had come to associate with that other person. Suddenly, at the back of your throat, all you tasted was nothing, not even the sourness of some lemonade, just that bland, empty, hollow taste of nothing.
He was also speaking a bit too formal to your usual roughness, his words too polished and careful to feel genuine.
"You seem to drink only that all night," he spoke up once again when he noticed you were fine, his eyes flickering to your glass before returning to your face.
"May I share a drink with you?" he asked.
And right when the final words rolled out of his tongue, the bartender slid two glasses in front of you that you had no idea what they were, the amber liquid catching the light in a way that was almost hypnotic.
"Malibu Ananas," the man spoke as he still had not sat down but he was anticipating to have your permission at least, his posture hopeful but not pushy. "I hope it is to your taste," he added.
You looked at the glass in front of you, slightly the amber yellow color with a touch of lime on it.
It looked really good, with the ice floating on top and the fresh water seeming to drip at the side of the glass, looking tempting and inviting enough that you had to stop yourself from taking a gulp.
But then, even in the moment when the liquid color seemed to hypnotize you, you broke out of it quickly as you turned to the guy once again, your expression hardening.
"I do not drink, but thank you for the offer," you spoke up a bit firmly, and the music still blurred in the background with people chatting, creating a wall of noise that made your words feel even more final.
The guy seemed caught off guard, he might not be used to being turned down, or he was just that confident that he would be able to approach you successfully, and you could see the surprise flicker across his features before he schooled it into something more neutral.
"Oh," he let out a small comment, his voice carrying a note of disappointment that he did not bother to hide.
"You come here without drinking, it must be bored," he said, and he did not press on the matter whether you wanted to drink or not.
His words were not rude or anything, yet somehow they prickled under your skin more than necessary. For a moment, you just lost complete interest and he just seemed like many other average guys in your eyes.
Because he had pricked on the matter that you always found as an issue of yourself while he had no idea about all that, and he had no idea about you.
It was just fun and casual, people found each other attractive, they talked and drank and maybe something more, who knew.
But you had far long no longer been interested in those casual talking and drinking anymore, let us just say it was not really what you were looking for whenever someone hit on you when you were going out with your friends, it was just not what you preferred, you would stop at drinking and talking, but now that you no longer drank, the talking would not even happen anymore.
That made you question, how long exactly had you not really been close with anyone, it was nothing priority in your life so you never really cared about that aspect that much, it had just turned dull in your life when you were too occupied with surviving each day and paying your bills.
"Not really, I enjoy being alone," you answered again, this time more coldly, and even you were surprised by your own tone, the sharp edge that had crept into your voice without your permission.
But you did not really care what kind of attitude you gave him anymore, you just found everything so unamusing and this guy.
Now that you looked closely enough, he was not even close to your type really, not with the way he was pressing and the way his confidence seemed to be wearing thin.
He looked a bit troubled by your words but did not seem like he would back away either, because he continued, this time leaning a bit closer to you, invading your space in a way that made your skin crawl.
"It is alright, we can just talk if that is what you prefer," he said, and as each word rolled out of his tongue, it just somehow seemed to irritate you even more and more, and you felt like your headache grew worse and worse with every syllable.
Your brows slightly frowned as you were about to decline him once again, to tell him to get lost in no uncertain terms.
But before you could say anything, you felt someone right behind you, one hand bracing at the backrest of your stool as the heat radiated from him, and the sudden presence made you turn around slightly, lifting your head only to see who had the nerve to approach you so casually like that.
You were irritated enough about one guy, you did not have enough patience to handle both of them at the same time, and you were fully prepared to snap at whoever it was, but the first thing that came into your vision was a white bandage covering his nose, and then those familiar dark curls falling in front of his forehead, and most of all, those mesmerizing deep blue eyes that seemed to penetrate through your skull, seeing right through all of your carefully constructed defenses.
Your eyes widened a bit as you did not expect to see him out of all people there.
You had expected a stranger or someone who might have tried to intervene thinking the dude must have made you uncomfortable, but you did not expect that to be Lane, and your mind raced with a thousand questions about what the hell he was doing here.
For a moment, none of you said anything at all, the silence stretching between the three of you like a taut wire.
You did not even know why he had even intervened, but you guessed it was his way of being a knight in shining armor, showing up at exactly the right moment to rescue you from a situation you had been handling just fine on your own.
"Don't you see that she is not interested?"
Lane did not lock eyes with you for long, but more so his attention fell to the guy next to you, and he straightened his back up a bit as his hand still rested at your backrest, standing behind you as he leaned over to the other guy, sneering out with a volume just enough for the guy to hear.
His voice seemed to disrupt the music in the background, and you wondered if people were looking this way thinking there was some fuss or a fight about to break out, but the two men were just talking so they likely would not intervene if it was nothing.
"Hey dude, I am talking to her, it is a bit tactless to barge in do not you think," the guy dropped his formal act from earlier as he spoke more casually to Lane.
Lane did not seem to mind his words, you saw the corner of his lip curve up into such a punchable smile, that familiar smirk that always made you want to smack him and kiss him in equal measure.
God, was he asking for another punch from someone again, you thought, because you knew that smirk meant trouble, you just were not sure what type of trouble that was.
You did not say anything, or more like you did not get to say anything, because you knew that smirk meant something was about to happen and you were not sure if you wanted to be part of it.
"How about we ask her?"
Lane's voice laced with some cockiness and challenge as he shifted his body a bit, leaning to the side of your face, close enough to make it look slightly rather intimate for two strangers, but with enough distance that you could still hear the music in the background.
His voice traveled through your ear, almost creeping up to your mind as it seemed to itch something up in your brain, that familiar tone that always got under your skin in ways you did not want to examine too closely.
"Did this guy bother you, doll eyes?" he asked, and you wanted to roll your eyes and gag out, telling him to drop the fucking nickname because it was stupid and embarrassing and made you feel things you did not want to feel.
But for a brief moment, you saw him wink at you so slightly, signaling you to play along, and you just tilted your head slightly, giving him that one subtle annoying look before you answered quietly.
"Yeah," you said.
And immediately when you answered, Lane straightened back up again as he leaned over to the other guy, his posture radiating confidence and barely concealed aggression.
"See," he said, his voice dripping with mockery, "she is not interested, did you get the message?" he spoke up as if mocking the dude, and the guy just stood there dumbfounded, looking at Lane with a mixture of confusion and irritation.
"I do not think that is your business," the guy tried to argue.
But Lane just scoffed out some small huff as if his words were completely meaningless to him, as if this guy was not even worth the effort of a real response.
He did not give any doggy damn about what this person had to say, that much was clear from the dismissive way he waved his hand.
"I am just trying to save your face, man," he shrugged his shoulders when he heard the answer, his hand still at the back of your stool as he spoke up, his voice carrying a sneer that cut through the noise. "You are making yourself look rather pathetic right now."
The words rolled out of his tongue so vile and sneering that if you were some guy with low self-control, you might have thrown one or two fists into that annoying handsome face already. Because Lane had a talent for pushing people's buttons in the most infuriating way possible.
You looked at him through the corner of your eyes as the other guy stepped a bit closer, his hand also placing on the back of your stool slightly, and you startled and looked over, finally paying a bit of attention to the guy who had been so persistent.
"Do you prefer this wet behind the ear dip shit instead of me?" he asked.
And oh, now his true color was showing.
He talked way more bluntly, way more spitefully than earlier, his politeness completely gone now that he was being challenged.
Lane's face, however, was just indifferent, his lips pressed to a thin line, his eyebrows relaxed as if the guy's words did not affect him at all, and he just waited for you to answer, as if he was so sure that you would not pick this guy over him.
You looked at the guy leaning so close to you, seeing the necklace dangling in front of his chest.
You thought he was good looking earlier, but now that you compared him with Lane side by side, he was really just some dull old fray blank canvas, completely unremarkable in every way.
You did not say anything at first, just flicked your eyes on him, scanning his face slightly, and you wondered why men were so persistent sometimes. It crept the shit out of you, the way they could not take a hint and kept pushing even when it was clear they were not wanted.
But you knew the type like this, he was just as wet behind the ear as anybody else, they just liked to stroke their egos by acting all cocky and confident, but inside, it was easier to drag out their insecurity than most people thought.
You reached your hand out toward him as your finger hooked slightly onto his necklace, and he seemed caught off guard by your action, his eyes widening when you tucked him slightly closer by the silver chain around his neck.
You leaned closer to the side of his face, close enough for your voice to graze featherlight against his ear, and you spit out that one single comment before pulling away.
"You are not even half as pretty as him,"
Your finger slipped away from the silver chain around his neck as he seemed startled by that, his eyes still widened, standing all dumbfounded as if he was still trying to process everything that had just happened.
But Lane did not give him a chance to even gather his senses as he slightly moved the guy's hand away from your stool, his touch firm and dismissive.
"Get lost," he said, and that sounded way more disdainful than his usual tone.
But you did not care anymore, you just leaned against the backrest as the so persistent guy earlier now slowly walked away in defeat, his shoulders slumping as he disappeared into the crowd. He might have looked back a few times, you supposed, but you did not even spare him a single glance, your attention instead fixed on the man standing behind you, the one who had shown up out of nowhere and inserted himself into your night in the most unexpected way possible.
.✦ ݁˖ don’t eat the cashier: deiran, david & viktor
(i will change it from time to time depending on my hyper fixation of the month so dw, im not ignoring reqs abt other fandoms not listed here just can’t write for them)
i’m not gonna write for male readers (only gn or female), character x character, age play, incest and anything else that might make me uncomfortable.
