(I’m not sure if you write for colt but I have an idea)
you had just wrapped on set for the day and asked colt out for some friendly drinks at the bar.. by the time colt arrived you were already being well supplied from the bartender hopping to get lucky after his shift ended.. colt decides to cut you off and haul you back into the safety of his truck and later your apartment.. you wake up slightly hungover trying to piece together any memory of what embarrassing things you confessed to your colleague
I have sooo many ideas for a lot of different characters but I’m just not that good at writing lol
Blurred Lines & Bar Tabs
Colt Seavers/Reader | sfw | 2.5k words
Tags: alcohol, intoxication, mild jealously, drunk confessions, awkwardness, embarrassment, use of y/n, teasing.
Summary: After a night of heavy drinking and a persistent bartender, Colt has to haul a very tipsy y/n home, leading to a very awkward, hungover morning.
Authors note: I do INFACT write for Colt, cause who can’t love that man haha, I had a lot of fun but sorry if it feels rushed! Xx
The wrap bell rang, signaling the end of a grueling day on set. Feeling the need to unwind, you caught Colt's eye and gestured toward the local pub. He gave you that lopsided, charming grin, promising to meet you there in twenty minutes.
By the time Colt walked into the dimly lit bar, you were already three rounds deep. To make matters worse, the bartender was hovering far too close, leaning over the counter with a predatory smirk, clearly aiming to turn your "friendly drinks" into something much more intimate. He was practically feeding you shots, his hand lingering on yours a second too long.
Colt’s jaw tightened as he spotted the scene. He didn't hesitate. He strode over, his large frame effectively cutting the bartender off. Without a word of explanation to the scowling man, he gripped your waist.
"That's enough for tonight,"
“Hey! I was still having fun!" you protested, though your words were slurred and your head felt heavy as Colt’s hand tightened securely around your waist. You tried to lean back toward the bartender, but Colt’s presence was like a physical wall, solid and immovable.
"You’ve had enough fun for one night," Colt countered, his voice dropping into that low, commanding tone he usually reserved for high-stakes stunts. He didn't look at the bartender; he didn't need to. The sheer intensity in his gaze was enough to make the man step back, nursing his wounded pride.
Before you could launch another half-coherent argument, he was guiding you toward the exit. The cool night air hit your face, momentarily clearing the haze, but the world still felt tilted. He practically tucked you into the passenger seat of his truck, his movements careful yet firm.
"Don't worry, sweetheart," he murmured, leaning in to catch your eyes as he clicked your seatbelt into place. "I’m getting you home."
The ride was a blur of streetlights and the low hum of the engine.
*Was he always this warm?* *you wondered fuzzily, the sensation of his heavy arm draped over you in the passenger seat feeling like the only stable thing in a spinning world.*
"Just lean back, y/n. We’re almost there," Colt muttered, his eyes flicking momentarily from the road to your face, checking to see if you were still conscious. He reached over, his large hand briefly squeezing your knee in a grounding gesture before returning to the steering wheel. "Try not to puke in my truck, alright? I just had it detailed."
You let out a long, dramatic sigh, your head lolling against the window as the vibration of the truck hummed through your skull. You turned your gaze toward him, squinting as if trying to resolve his silhouette into something clear.
"You know..." you started, your voice trailing off into a bubbly, nonsensical giggle. "You're being real... real bossy right now. Very... very authoritative. It’s actually kinda hot. Not that I—I mean, there's this guy. On set. He's got these arms, Colt. Huge arms. Like, could crush a watermelon arms."
Colt’s grip on the steering wheel tightened just a fraction, his knuckles turning white. He cleared his throat, refusing to look at you. "Is that so?"
"Yeah!" you chirped, leaning dangerously close to the center console. "And he's so grumpy. And he smells like... like expensive wood and trouble. I think I might be in love. Or maybe I just want him to carry me everywhere. Probably both."
A heavy silence filled the cab, broken only by your clumsy, happy humming.
Is she actually talking about me? Colt thought, a strange mix of amusement and intense heat prickling at the back of his neck. He kept his eyes fixed on the road, but the corner of his mouth twitched uncontrollably.
"Sounds like a real catch, this guy y/n," he said, his voice sounding even deeper and rougher than usual in the quiet cabin of the truck.
"He is!" you insisted, waving a hand vaguely in the air before nearly hitting your own face. "He's just... so stubborn. Like a big, handsome mule. I bet he doesn't even realize how much he... you know... makes my heart go thump-thump like a drum." You leaned your head toward him, your eyes half-lidded and glassy. "Do you think he likes girls who talk too much when they've had tequila? Because I think I might be talking too much."
"Don't worry, I'm not gonna tell anyone you've got a thing for 'big, handsome mules,'" Colt teased, though his voice lacked its usual bite. He hopped out of the truck and rounded the hood, opening your door with a practiced, careful grace. He caught you just as your legs decided to go on strike, sweeping you up into his arms to carry you toward the entrance.
As he hiked you higher against his chest, you let out a muffled, sleepy hum, tucking your face into the warmth of his neck. "You're so heavy... no, wait, I'm heavy... anyway, you're definitely the guy," you mumbled, the words stumbling over each other as sleep began to claim you again.
Colt froze mid-step, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your shoulder. He stared at the apartment door, a lopsided, stunned smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah," he whispered to the empty hallway, his grip tightening protectively. "I guess I am."
He's definitely not just a colleague anymore, Colt thought, his chest tight as he navigated the narrow hallway of your building. The weight of you in his arms felt different now not just a physical burden of a drunk friend, but something much more significant.
He reached your door, fumbling with your keys for a moment before finally swinging it open. He navigated the dim living room, carefully lowering you onto the sofa. As he began to pull the throw blanket over you, you stirred, squinting up at him with glazed eyes.
"Are you... staying?" you mumbled, your hand reaching out to snag the hem of his shirt, anchoring him there.
Colt paused, his hand hovering over your shoulder. He looked at your face, so vulnerable and trusting in the moonlight, and felt his resolve crumble. "Just until you're settled, y/n," he promised, though he sat down on the edge of the cushion, refusing to leave your side. "I'm not going anywhere."
"it wasn't a different guy by the way..," you mumbled, your voice dropping to a tiny, drowsy whisper as your fingers tightened on his shirt. You shook your head weakly, a sleepy smile tugging at your lips. "It was always you, Colt. You're just... so incredibly handsome when you're being a jerk."
Colt froze, his breath hitching in his throat. He watched as your eyes fluttered closed, your grip loosening as sleep finally pulled you under. He remained perfectly still, paralyzed by the confession, his heart thudding against his ribs like a trapped bird.
"God, y/n," he breathed, his voice barely a tremor in the quiet room. He reached out, his fingers ghosting over your cheek with an aching tenderness. "You have no idea what you're doing to me."
He sat there in the silence of your living room for a long time, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest. The adrenaline of the night was slowly being replaced by a heavy, contemplative warmth. He should probably head home, but the way you had looked at him even through the haze of tequila made the thought of leaving feel impossible.
Eventually, seeing that your sleep was deep and undisturbed, Colt stood up. He moved with silent, practiced precision, grabbing a spare pillow and a light quilt from your linen closet. He settled onto the floor beside the sofa, leaning his back against the cushions near your head. He wouldn't get much sleep, but he wasn't about to leave you alone after everything you'd just poured out.
As he closed his eyes, the memory of your voice ‘It was always you, Colt' echoed in his mind. He let out one last, shaky exhale, a small, private smile appearing in the dark.
The sunlight felt like a personal attack. You groaned, squinting against the brightness as a dull, rhythmic throbbing settled behind your eyes. Your mouth felt like it was lined with cotton, and your memory was a shattered mirror of neon lights and heavy bass.
Then, the flashes hit. The bartender. The truck. And then... your voice. Loud. Unfiltered. Calling Colt a 'handsome mule.'
"Oh, no," you whimpered, burying your face in the pillow, the heat of pure embarrassment rushing to your cheeks. "Please let me be dead. Please."
As you rolled over, your eyes snapped open. You weren't alone. A heavy, warm weight was resting near your feet, and the faint, unmistakable scent of sandalwood drifted through the air. You froze, heart hammering against your ribs, as you realized Colt was asleep on the floor beside the sofa, a discarded blanket draped over him.
He looked peaceful, far removed from the intense man who had rescued you last night. But the memory of your confession remained, sharp and terrifyingly clear.
"Colt..." you whispered, your voice cracking.
At the sound of your voice, Colt’s eyes snapped open. He blinked, squinting against the light for a second before his gaze landed on you. A slow, sleepy grin spread across his face, though he rubbed his jaw, looking a little stiff from sleeping on the floor.
"Morning, sunshine," he said, his voice gravelly and deep from sleep. He sat up, stretching his massive arms above his head, the movement causing his shirt to tug tight against his chest. "You look like you've been through a war."
You pulled the duvet higher, your face burning. You couldn't even look him in the eye. The silence stretched, thick and heavy with the unspoken words of the night before.
"How much do you remember?" you managed to croak out, your voice barely a whisper. You braced yourself, certain he was about to bring up the 'handsome mule' comment.
Colt leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of the sofa, his expression softening. He reached out, his hand pausing near yours.
"Enough to know you've got very... interesting taste in men," he teased, his eyes dancing with a playful, knowing light.
The heat in your face intensified, reaching a level of warmth that felt physically painful. You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing the floor would simply open up and swallow you whole.
"Oh my god," you groaned, the sound muffled by the pillow. "Please tell me I didn't actually say those things. Please tell me I was just... hallucinating from the tequila."
Colt let out a low, rumbling chuckle that vibrated in the small space between you. He didn't pull away instead, he moved closer, his hand finally bridging the gap to rest gently on your hand through the blanket.
"Well, you definitely mentioned something about watermelon-crushing arms," he said, his tone teasing but his eyes held a sudden, intense seriousness. "And something about a handsome mule. Though, I think the part about me being 'incredibly handsome' was my favorite."
He leaned in closer, his face inches from yours, the playfulness in his gaze shifting into something much warmer, much more real. "So... was that the tequila talking, or was that actually you?"
The air in the room suddenly felt thin. You stared at him, your heart performing a frantic, uneven dance against your ribs. The teasing light in his eyes was still there, but underneath it lay a raw, expectant vulnerability that made your breath hitch.
You swallowed hard, your fingers trembling slightly beneath his. The urge to lie to blame the alcohol and retreat into the safety of your friendship was overwhelming. But looking at him now, seeing the way his gaze anchored to yours, the lie died in your throat.
"It was the tequila," you whispered, your voice shaking as you finally met his eyes, unable to look away. "But... it wasn't a lie."
Colt’s expression shifted, the playful smirk vanishing. A heavy, charged silence fell over the room, thick with the realization that the boundary between 'colleagues' and 'something more' had just been irrevocably crossed.
"Good," he murmured, his voice dropping to a low, rough timber. He moved his hand from your fingers to your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin. "Because I've been waiting a long time to hear that."
The tension snapped like a taut wire. Before you could even catch your breath, Colt leaned in, closing the final inch of distance. His lips met yours in a kiss that was neither hesitant nor gentle; it was hungry, a release of all the unspoken tension that had been simmering between you for months.
He tasted like gum and something uniquely him, his hand sliding from your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair to pull you closer. You let out a soft, shaky moan, your hands reaching out to grasp his forearms, feeling the solid, grounding strength of those 'watermelon-crushing' muscles you'd rambled about.
When he finally pulled back just a fraction, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily. His eyes were dark, searching yours with an intensity that made your toes curl.
"So," he breathed, a slow, triumphant smirk returning to his lips, though his voice was still wrecked with emotion. "No more talking about hypothetical guys, okay? Just me."
A breathless, giddy laugh escaped your lips, the embarrassment finally melting into a warmth that had nothing to do with the morning sun. You reached up, your hands sliding from his forearms to cup his face, your thumbs tracing the rough stubble along his jawline.
"Deal," you whispered, pulling him back down to you. "No more hypothetical guys. Just the stubborn mule."
Colt let out a low, dark chuckle against your lips before diving back in, his kiss deeper this time, more certain. He shifted, moving from the edge of the sofa to crowd into your space, his large frame hovering over you in a way that made you feel both tiny and completely seen. The hangover was still there, a dull thrumming in your temples, but as his hands slid down to pull you firmly against him, the only thing you could focus on was the electric reality of him.
"You're a menace, Y/N," he murmured against your skin, his lips grazing your jaw. "A beautiful, loud-mouthed menace.”
Authors note: this was a blast yippie! Let me know if it was good I need the praise yall.
Tag list: @venusjr-12doctor
