fear of missing out. | drew starkey
adult content | minors do NOT interact.
⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Drew Starkey X female!Reader.
⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. forbidden, distressing, hidden desire, a secret that is only yours, no one outside the four walls of your house knows what happens between you and your best friend's boyfriend..
⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). prohibited bid, obscenity, explicit sex, mention of eating disorder, toxic friendship.
After the introduction to the ceremony, the judge was preparing for the opening speech, dividing her attention between the bride and him, who was one of the groomsmen. His nervousness was visible; he smiled at the bride every five seconds, but his eyes remained low and sad. Every time their gazes crossed, he would pull away from the woman's voice at the altar, remembering what he had heard earlier: the sound of her voice, the desperation in her words, the last sensation he could feel, him.
Next to him, there she was. Her chest slightly puffed, her hair impeccably styled to the side in an elegant updo, tiny sparkles on her skin from the makeup. The smile lit up her face every time she looked at the bride. She radiated happiness for Nic. And you did too.
Of course you did.
"Sometimes, we get the impression that everything in our life must be done immediately; the rush of daily life limits us and controls the actions of destiny," — she caught your attention back to her words, but Drew and you continued to watch each other. "We are constantly disturbed by thoughts like: what if... what if we had spared the other from our presence, what if we hadn’t insisted on our story, what if the past wasn’t an obstacle to trust, what if my prayers for the other to find someone better and forget this madness of insisting on something broken had been answered, what if there were no 'us,' what if there were no 'you.'"
You touched below your eyes and looked at your moist index finger right after, both of you emotional as if that speech had been made for the two of you.
"These questions would never be answered because, regardless of how many 'what ifs' we add to our paths, destiny will continue to lead tomorrow in its own way. Our hearts don’t stop beating after being cracked, just like in the philosophy of kintsugi," she recited with a sweet and patient tone, as if cradling everyone in her arms. "We are not disposable when hurt; it is necessary to allow oneself to break, for that is how the light enters, through the cracks."
That’s how the light enters.
That phrase reverberated in your mind, and for a moment, you felt lucid enough to understand it. Bringing the tips of your fingers to your chest, you murmured the phrase to yourself, imagining the light he brought to your life pouring out through the cracks of your heart, like the sun that penetrates the gaps of a window, lighting up, even if for a few hours, a cold, damp, and dark house.
That’s how the light enters.
It sounded beautiful when spoken by a justice of the peace at a wedding where the couple truly belonged to each other. A truly happy couple, destined to be together, without needing to rush anything or hurt anyone along the way.
Nic and Vince had never been forbidden from each other. They fit perfectly, and everyone around them celebrated the genuine happiness reflected on their faces.
They never had to suppress feelings out of shame or renunciation. They never had to pretend.
They were free.
When you turned your attention forward again, the couple exchanged rings and made their final vows, sealing the pact with a kiss and a round of applause from everyone present. You and Drew synchronized your clapping, and the exchange of glances lasted exactly two seconds before Ariana took his attention, moved.
With soft jazz playing, the party continued, everyone engaged and talking joyfully with glasses of champagne, tasting exotic sweets typical of Vince’s hometown, Janina, in Greece. Each with a more peculiar name than the other. What drew the most attention was the aroma of spices and nuts coming from the couple’s short three-tier cake, wrapped in white fondant and some sort of mesh, with a few pearls.
You slid your fingers along the edge of the table covered with a hand-embroidered white lace tablecloth. You stopped in front of a delicately decorated sweet with an almond on top, tilted your head, and observed it for a few seconds. You inhaled lightly, mentally calculating the calories, but in the end, shook your head, closed your eyes, and put it all in your mouth.
"Where have you been all this time? I haven’t had the chance to greet you!" Ariana’s shout almost made you choke. Turning toward her, you laughed, holding back the discomfort. "I waited for you until noon. I thought we made it clear what time you were supposed to be at my house!"
"Can you speak a little quieter?" you asked, trying to stay calm. Ariana blinked a few times, loosening her attacking stance.
You loved her. She was your best friend. Maybe that was why you tolerated her... complicated personality, to say the least.
"You don’t have to be rude."
"I wasn’t rude." You took a deep breath, watching her change the subject. "I sent a message saying I’d be late. I had a problem with my dress."
Ariana looked you up and down with that superior look, narrowing her eyes. When she decided to make you her target, nothing seemed to convince her, not even the truth.
"You took so long, and you still chose the worst dress." The acidity in her voice was almost exaggerated. "I think a neckline like that is unnecessary for a respectable ceremony like this."
You clenched your teeth.
"It’s Nic’s wedding, you know how important this is to me!"
"Yes, I know."
She scanned your body with her clear eyes, searching for any flaw. Her fingers tightened around her shiny purse. She was uncomfortable, but her brutal honesty always seemed justified by the intimacy you two had shared for years.
Ariana loved you.
Or, at least, that’s what you believed.
"Is it just me, or were you eating a sweet?"
"Yeah... I was." You gave a sheepish smile, averting your gaze to the guests. In the middle of the dance floor, Drew was without a tie, his shirt open, a bottle of champagne in his hand while dancing with Nic. He seemed happy for her.
"If happiness makes you hungry, maybe you should try being sad more often." Ariana smiled and kissed your cheek before walking away.
As soon as she turned her back, you let out the breath you had been holding and rolled your eyes, watching her cross the lawn while shouting:
"DREW! CAN'T YOU HEAR ME CALLING YOU?"
"Bitch." You muttered, turning your back.
Furious, you grabbed a tray of almond sweets and walked to the back of the garden. There, a series of large rocks divided the space, separating it from a small forest with pine trees casting shadows over them. The cold was more intense on this side, as the movement of the plants indicated.
The lined-up stones on the ground served as seats, and you sat, placing the tray in your lap. Without tasting anything, you began shoving one sweet after another into your mouth, pushing them down your throat until it felt slightly sore. Food hadn’t had a taste for you in a while, so it didn’t really matter to you not knowing what it felt like to taste a sweet like that, just like normal people do.
"Would the lady refuse a dance?" The hoarse voice pulled you from your thoughts, making you lift your head. He was slightly leaning in, with an exaggeratedly polite gesture, and you frowned.
"Refuse? I don’t think that’s quite how you say it..."
"Well, to tell the truth, I’d prefer it if you said no. I’m exhausted."
A crooked smile appeared on your lips, and he lit up.
"I see. So, the party is over for you."
"I think so." His response came without much enthusiasm.
"Do you want to get out of here?" He suggested, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
You hesitated for a moment, glancing around. Everyone was distracted with dancing and jokes, and Ariana was out of your line of sight.
Drew, however, was there, in front of you, his hand extended in a silent invitation.
Of course, you accepted.
Running through the forest, holding up the skirt of your dress, you felt your heart race in time with your fast steps. The wind cut through your hair, and Drew’s carefree laughter echoed, following you like a shadow. It was impossible not to be caught up in that lightness, impossible not to forget, even if just for a moment, the weight of the day.
As you left the stone trail behind, the beach appeared before you. At the top of the rock, you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, letting the sea breeze fill your lungs. The salty smell mixed with the air, and the last rays of the sun tinted the sand with golden hues.
Your daydream was suddenly interrupted when Drew lifted you by your legs and sped down the slope, pulling a surprised scream from you. You clung to his shoulders, the laughter and panic blending in your chest as you felt the world spin.
When he finally set you down, the playful moment turned into a war. Cold water splashed back and forth, laughter mingled with shivers, and eyes squinted amidst the splashes. Drew grinned before attacking again, always determined to pull any trace of sadness from you.
As always, he was there, trying to save a piece of your life with a single moment.
A brief distraction was enough for him to knock you down into the shallow part of the sea, and your body fell next to his. Your gazes locked, so close now that you could see the tiny grains of sand stuck in his eyelashes. His breath brushed against your skin, warm and labored, mingling with yours in the dense air between you two.
"We can’t..." you whispered.
"We can never," he corrected, his voice rough. "But it’s what we want."
"At some point, what we want won’t matter anymore…"
"Exactly." He placed your hand against his lips and pressed a kiss there, almost reverently. "But that won’t stop mattering until I finally get what I want... and I want you. If not the right way, then the wrong way. Forbidden. But I won’t let you go."
The words came with a weight that made your stomach churn, and as he spoke, his lips traced a dangerous path across your skin. First along your fingers, then the palm of your hand, slowly climbing up your arm until they reached your neck. His other hand tangled in your hair, pulling you closer with no gentleness, eliminating any space between you. Not even the wind dared to pass through.
"Stop running from me," he murmured against your skin. "Don’t leave me any longer in this prison with Ari... this isn’t fair."
"I can’t," you denied, the tip of your nose brushing against his. "This is wrong. Dirty. She’s my best friend. She..."
"You're banned from talking about Ari for the next few hours…"
With each word that escaped his lips, he traced a new path with his own across your neck, pulling out sighs from you that seemed to pull you away from reality. Your judgment fragmented, shattered by the heat building within you. Your consciousness screamed, but your body responded differently—the damp warmth between your legs made your thighs press together, a silent confession of the desire consuming you.
Your hands trembled, torn between the urge to push him away and the unbearable desire to pull him even closer. The air around you felt heavy, charged with something dense, electric, like a storm about to burst. The brush of his breath against your skin made your spine involuntarily arch, your body acting on instinct before your mind could process it.
His lips slid from your neck to the curve of your shoulder, his teeth lightly scratching your warm skin. A violent shiver ran through your body, and you felt your chest rise and fall erratically. He noticed—of course, he noticed. A crooked smile formed against your skin before he pressed his lips there again, sucking, marking, as if he wanted to imprint his presence on every inch of you.
You gasped, your fingers finding the fabric of his shirt and clinging to it as if it were the only anchor preventing you from completely losing yourself. But he didn’t want to hold you—he wanted to drag you with him.
"I should stop, shouldn’t I?" His voice came low, loaded with irony and something darker, more dangerous. "But you don’t want me to stop."
He slid his fingers over your hip, slow, lazy, the hot tip tracing a winding path against the thin fabric that covered your skin.
The silence shattered like broken glass when he moved forward, his fingers sinking into your waist with calculated force. You barely had time to react before his lips claimed yours, hungry, fierce, as though he’d been waiting for this moment for far too long.
The shock coursed through your body like lightning, burning every nerve as your mouth molded to his in an embrace that was both violent and inevitable. His taste invaded your senses, warm, intoxicating, and you moaned against his lips, feeling the impact of surrender crash against your chest like a wave too powerful to resist.
He wasn’t in a hurry, but he wasn’t patient either. He kissed as if he were claiming, as though he were embedding a truth in you that even your attempts at denial couldn’t erase. His fingers moved to your face, holding it firmly, forcing you to surrender, to get lost in the erratic rhythm of tongues and teeth and gasps.
The world around you dissolved. There was no Ariana. No past, no future. Just the present, just the suffocating heat between you two, just the muffled sound of breaths mixing together.
You felt your back hit the cold bathroom wall, a stark contrast to the fire spreading through your skin during the winding path you took to your house just minutes before. You were in a rush, urgency pressing on you both, and even so close, you couldn’t pull apart along the way.
Desire won.
He pressed his body against yours, every muscle rigid, every line of his body marked by his presence. The hardness of his touch, the way he moved against you, made a low moan escape your lips, and that seemed to break any last resistance he might have had.
His hands descended, dragging across your skin like liquid fire, as if he wanted to decorate it with his very touch. He let out a rough grunt, a nearly primal sound that made your stomach drop, and when his mouth pulled away from yours for a moment, his eyes found yours, wild, charged with something you couldn’t name, but that you felt pulse inside you just the same.
"This..." He murmured, his thumb tracing your jawline before squeezing it, keeping your gaze locked with his. "Tell me you don’t want this."
But you didn’t say anything.
Because it would be a lie.
He didn’t wait for words. He didn’t need to. The answer was in the way your body yielded to his, in the way your hands gripped him as if you feared he might evaporate into the air.
The kiss began again with even more urgency. He devoured you as though he were on the verge of madness, as if tasting your mouth was the only thing that could calm him. His fingers climbed your arms, sliding down to your shoulders before intertwining in his hair, pulling, provoking a low growl against your lips.
He turned you, guiding your steps blindly until your back met the cold sink, the shock, the shiver, and a crooked smile appeared on his lips before diving again into your neck, exploring with kisses and bites that made your breath hitch.
The heat was unbearable, a complete contrast to the chill of the bathroom. You felt the urgency in the way his hands gripped your waist, as if he wanted to carve every curve of you into his palms. He lifted you effortlessly, making you sit on the edge of the sink, and the new angle made a sigh escape your lips.
His eyes were dark, wild. A muscle pulsed in his jaw as he stared at you, his breath heavy and erratic.
"You’re a problem," he murmured, his voice rough, as he dragged his lips down your jawline, heading toward your collarbone, biting hard enough to leave a mark.
You could barely respond. Desire pulsed inside you like an uncontrolled fire, and your hands slid over his chest, feeling the firmness of his muscles beneath the heated, taut skin.
The distant sound of water echoed before you realized he had turned on the shower. The steam began to fill the space, bringing with it a new layer of suffocating intimacy.
He pulled back slightly, only to grab your hand, guiding you with him into the shower.
The hot water hit your skin like a shock, blending with the heat of his body when he pulled you closer again. Clothes began to stick, becoming a useless weight between the two of you.
He stared at you for a moment, his eyes taking in every detail of your face before his fingers slid down the hem of your shirt.
"Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"
The question came in a deep whisper, almost a lament.
But you didn’t answer.
Instead, you raised your arms and let him remove the last barrier between you.
The hot water fell over you both like a muffled curtain, creating a barrier that made the world outside disappear. He seemed even more relentless now, his eyes fixed on yours as if searching for some sign of hesitation. But there was no hesitation. No words were needed. The actions spoke louder, and the heat of his body against yours was all you could feel.
He pulled you closer, your bodies pressed against his with such intensity that it felt as if nothing else mattered. Each movement of his seemed to lead to an internal explosion, as though he were dissolving any trace of resistance inside you. His hands moved forcefully to your waist, squeezing, dragging his fingers over your bare skin, and you couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped your lips. He moved even closer, making the physical contact between you almost unbearable.
"Don't try to run," he whispered, his voice rough and deep, almost like a threat his body was already carrying out. The tension between you both grew, and the heat spreading over your skin seemed to amplify the feeling that there was no control over anything anymore. Time had stopped, frozen in that moment, and all that existed was the touch, the heat, the electricity crackling between your bodies, binding you in ways you could barely understand.
His fingers traced down once more, finding the line of your skin, touching, exploring with a precision that made your body arch, desperate for more. The sensation was overwhelming. Every touch, every press made the world around you fade away even further. There was nothing left but him, but the need to be closer, to be consumed. And yet, he challenged you with his gaze. Every movement, every gesture, seemed to say, "Don't stop," as if testing just how far you would go.
The sound of water hitting the shower walls was drowned out by your own soft moans and ragged breaths. Your bodies moved in a silent choreography, a dance that was as much about surrender as it was about control. When you touched him, your hands slid up to the curve of his neck, and then he kissed you again—deep, demanding, as if he couldn't wait another second.
Thought had long left you. You answered with the same intensity. Words no longer mattered. Only the touches, the gasps, the bodies tangled together in the heat of the moment.
His fingers traced over your shoulder, slipping the strap of your heavy dress down. Drew exhaled sharply the moment he realized there was nothing underneath. His gaze darkened as he took in your body, his hand sliding along your side as if marking you, his eyes burning with something primal, as though you were the last thing he ever wanted to taste.
A sudden urgency pulled your bodies together under the cascading water. Drew’s hand wrapped around the back of your neck as he claimed your lips, tongues tangling in a rhythmless duel. A long, trembling breath escaped between kisses as your hands slid down his chest, one traveling up to the nape of his neck while the other found its way to his cock, stroking in a slow, teasing motion.
Your movements paused for just a second as Drew pressed you against the cold porcelain wall, lifting one of your legs and wrapping it around his waist. That was all the invitation he needed. He thrust into you in one deep, unrelenting motion, swallowing your sharp moan with his lips.
No hesitation. No pretense. And he never once let go of your mouth.
"If this shit is ending sooner or later, then I want to be sure I fucked you like never before the last time I had the chance," he growled against your lips.
The hot water only fueled the intensity with which he buried himself inside you, your walls tightening around him as he thrust deeper. Drew poured every ounce of tension into the way his hands roamed—gripping your thighs, your ass—leaving no part of you untouched, unclaimed.
Your eyes met briefly between parted lips, and in the flickering candlelight of the bathroom, his irises gleamed, sharp with hunger, with pleasure barely held back. His breath hitched, a strangled moan escaping him as your back dragged against the slick wall from the force of his movements.
His hand traveled down the center of your stomach, slow, deliberate, until his fingers wrapped around your throat, guided by the bruises he had left the night before.
You held onto his stormy blue eyes, watching them darken with something wicked, something that devoured you from the inside out. Each thrust left him gasping, both of your bodies stealing the heat from the water, feeding off the fire between you instead.
"Drew..." you whimpered between shuddering breaths, your arms tightening around his waist.
With a sudden shift, he flipped you around, pressing your front against the fogged-up glass of the shower. One of your hands braced against the surface while the other dug into his grip as he pulled you back onto him, filling you once more.
He used the tension in your legs to keep you close, grinding deeper, harder, until the rhythm became something primal, something desperate.
His hand moved in sync with the water, sliding up your stomach before closing around your throat again.
His lips brushed against the damp strands of your hair, and a low, guttural groan vibrated against your skin as your walls clenched around him, making his thrusts falter. Not satisfied, you rolled your hips against him, and whatever control he had left snapped.
With a bruising grip, he slammed into you again, your breath hitching as your vision blurred. His wild, feverish gaze met yours in the reflection, pupils blown wide, body taut with restraint unraveling at the seams.
Your broken moans only spurred him on.
Neither of you gave a damn about what would happen next.
But right here, right now—Drew Starkey was yours.
And nothing could change that.
