MLM Oneshots

Just a hook up, right? [OLD VERS]

[Themes]

[Angst | Smut - No Prep, Hickeys, Handjob, Biting, Instinctive "Hook Up" | Fluff]

[Strangers to Lovers]

[!TW! Mentions of Cheating/Toxic Relationship | Heavy Drinking] 

[3800+ words]

[Request by | @-tkalt- ]

[PLOT]

Marshall had just come home to see his girlfriend of 2 years being fucked by a random dude. In rage, he breaks up with her and goes to a bar to forget everything. At said bar he meets Eric, after a few drinks they end up at Erics' apartment.

(•◡•)

I slam the door behind me. Shouting and moaning lingers behind the door. The sight of her burns my eyes. I blink profusely, trying to get the image of her and him out of my mind. How could I have been so dumb? All the signs were there. Her always asking for money, being out of reach for days, never wanting to go out on dates. It was obvious. All the lies, the insults and fights. Of course she was cheating on me. After two long years, I finally managed to leave her in a fit of rage.

The picture of her sprawled out on the bed with him on top of her makes my brain swerve. I want to scream, smash vases, break her face. My emotions make my sight blurry. I walk out of the apartment complex with tears flowing down my face. 

The cold rain hits my head. My curly hair is already a mess, the rain won't have any affect. My black coat slowly fades into a darker shade. I feel my brain lead the way. The thought of alcohol makes my mind ache at the urge. My tears burn my skin as they collied with the acid rain. The sound of loud music hits my ears. My heart starts beating faster at the smell of whiskey.

The scent of liquor teases my nose. I walk up to the glowing building. A jacked bouncer is standing in front of the tall doors. Their arms are crossed and an earbud is in one of their ears. I grab my wallet, searching through it like I'm trying to find a single cookie crumb. I grab my ID. The picture was taken years ago. I actually looked happy back then, a chuckles leave my mouth. It's a funny thought.

I hand the bouncer my ID. They look at it with suspicion.

"Marshall Jackston?"

I nod, looking at their black glasses. They hand me my ID. I thank them as I walk in. Pulsating music attacks my eardrums. Strangers are grinding onto eachother while others are puking in corners. Rainbow colored lights flash before my eyes as a shirtless lady in her twenties gets dragged out by security. I cringe at her bad choice of hair style. 

My brain drags me to the bar. I sit down on one of the stools. The smell of old napkins and stained costers infect my blood. I look up to see a bartender drying a wide glas. Her eyes meet mine. Jasmine eyes look me up and down. Deja vu makes my brain ache.

"What can I get you?" she smiles.

Her smile reflect the meaningless words that left her red stained lips.

"Vodka, please," I manage to mutter through the waves of sounds.

She nods as she grabs a clean glas. I lean against my palm, needing some sort of support. The need of forgetfulness makes my teeth shake. Even more tears fall, they slowly drop down on the counter. A shot of vodka is set down in front of me. The burning feeling of liquor traces the walls of my throat.