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starkeyallure · 2 months ago

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Casual /extra IV

One shot; college students drew x reader

explicit language and scenes, read at own caution

⋆.˚ "two weeks and your mom invites me to her house in Long Beach, is it casual now?"

♡⸝⸝ elevator | other | more casual!drew

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The sun is casting that golden-hour glow across the backyard of the Starkey’s summer house, a little over the afternoon.

The yard, is decorated with a large banner that reads “Lil’s Second Bday,” and a few balloons are scattered around. The long table on the stone patio is stacked with snacks, and the smell of BBQ fills the air.

There aren’t many people- just the Starkey family; Mr and Mrs Starkey, Drew, his four siblings, his baby niece, and a couple of close relatives.

It’s nothing big. Other than their baby niece’s birthday, it’s also a chance to catch up. Laughter and chatter fill the air, a warm vibe surrounding the entire afternoon, with the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore. The view of the beach just beyond the low fence adds to the relaxed, coastal atmosphere.

…and you? You’re chilling, calm, and- and…and you don’t really know why you’re here.

No, you do know.

Drew’s mom invited you.

A week ago, when you and Drew were casually lounging on the couch, watching tv, he picked up a call, suddenly handed it to you with a defeated look on his face.

His mom. Mrs Starkey.

She urged you to join them at their house on Long Beach, celebrating their granddaughter’s birthday, if you weren’t too busy.

It was weird.

Casual, yet you’re here, celebrating his niece’s birthday.

You didn’t want to come. But Mrs Starkey sounded so excited on the phone, and it seemed like she liked you- a lot.

And Drew? He didn’t resist much either. Last time you visited, it was his idea to bring you, thinking you could act as a ‘distraction’- both for his family, a new person to annoy, and for him, a way to sneak away from the constant questioning and attention.

On the way here, he’d admitted that yes, his family liked you, and it would definitely be boring without you.

The whole day flowed smoothly- a long drive in Drew’s car to the summer house his family owns. Upon arriving, you’d helped with setting up, meeting some relatives that Drew introduced you to- as his ‘best friend,’ of course.

His niece? Adorably cute. His siblings and parents, would pull you away to chat privately, either about their random hobbies or just to get to know you better.

You didn’t even realize how long it had been since you’d been alone with Drew today, until he suddenly appeared behind you, his hand lingering around your lower waist.

You were holding his niece in your arms, standing by the fence, entertaining her with the seagulls flying just a few miles away- when Drew decided to join. His height loomed just over your shoulder, his broad chest brushing faintly against your back.

“Hey you,”

Drew whispered into your ear, his voice low and flirty, just like it always was.

You turned around, a smile pulling at your lips as you showed him Lils, his niece, held against your hip.

“Look,” you whispered back, her pacifier snug in her mouth, her little eyes wide with curiosity.

“My sister’s… freaking out,” Drew started, a smirk tugging at his lips as his blue eyes met yours, the light catching from the afternoon sun, making them almost glow. “But it’s just you that kidnapped her.”

You shot him a glare, making him chuckle, the sound warm and full of amusement.

“Go away. We’re watching seagulls,” you half-heatedly tease him, turning back to the beach view.

Drew, of course, wasn’t done. He laid his palm against your hips, gently turning you back to face him.

“Hey- hey,” he murmured, forcing his face into your view, the sapphire orbs meeting yours again, “I’m bored. Talk to me.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know,” he said, his smile soft and unbothered. “Just, just talk to me.”

His fingers came up, gently brushing the corners of your mouth.

“So?” he asked, his voice low, curious. “Was today fun?”

You looked away on purpose, pretending to think deeply for a second before answering with a playful shrug, “Hmm… could’ve been better.”

He laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d heard all day- bubbling straight out of his chest.

“God- I missed you,” Drew suddenly said, like the phrase weighted nothing.

“Missed me?” you echoed, brow raised.

“Yeah.”

“We’ve… you’ve been in the same place as me all day.”

“I know.”

“You sat next to me like ten minutes ago.”

“I know.”

“You talked to me during lunch.”

“I know.”

“You’re literally talking to me right now.”

“��I know.”

His smile never wavered. If anything, it deepened, pulling at the corners of his mouth, creasing the skin around his eyes- those soft, familiar smile lines you could trace from memory.

His hand rested at the base of your neck now- light, warm, grounding. He was close. Too close. And he wasn’t looking at your eyes anymore.

He’s looking at your lips.

And you were pretty sure that if the two of you were alone right now, he’d kiss you. He’d kiss you like he’d been holding his breath all day and just remembered how to breathe. Like you were the cure for something he didn’t know he had. He’d kiss you like he’d thought about it a thousand times and still wasn’t ready.

Which… was not how casual people behaved.

Before you could say anything, Lils, lets out a sound that’s muffled by her pacifier.

You let out a quiet laugh at that.

Drew gently pulled his hand away from your neck, the warmth of his touch fading as Lils reached out to grab his finger- the one with the gold ring he always wore. Her tiny hand curled around it with the kind of fascination only toddlers had, but her attention quickly drifted.

She reached for the chain bracelet on his wrist instead, the one he never took off. The one you gave him.

She tugged at it curiously, eyes wide with wonder.

“Hey- she likes it,” Drew says, his voice warm as his gaze flicked from you to his niece. That smile still playing on his lips.

“I wonder who picked it,” you tease, rocking Lils gently on your hip.

“Someone amazing,” he murmurs, low enough that it felt just for you, punctuated by a quick wink that somehow made your heart skip in the dumbest, most inconvenient way.

He said things like that; and each time, it made you wonder if it’s still casual.

Drew’s tongue poked out, resting on his lips for a beat as he stared down at yours. The look in his eyes said everything; Shit- he wants to kiss you so bad.

“…Stop that.”

You barely recognized your voice, rougher than you expected.

“Stop what?” he laughs, dropping his hand from your waist.

“Looking at me.” You try to play it off, but your pulse betrays you.

“‘Looking at you’?” He laughs again, “Where- where am I supposed to look then?”

“…no, I mean, stop looking at me like that.”

“…you’re confusing me, babe.”

The nickname slid off his tongue effortlessly, and it stirred something in you. Butterflies erupted, trapped somewhere between your chest and your stomach, without a doubt every single time he said it.

“…never mind,” you whisper.

Drew laughs, for the thousandth time.

Suddenly, a voice calls his name from across the crowd. You glance over, seeing two of his cousins standing together, probably wanting to talk to him. They waved over at you; eyes at your direction.

You turn back to Drew, but he’s still staring down at you, completely lost in the moment.

“Drew?”

“Mhm?” He hums absently; eyes still staring down at you.

“Your cousins- they want you.”

“…Mhm.”

Before you can say anything else, Lils tugs harshly on Drew’s bracelet, causing his hand to shift slightly. That’s when he snaps back to the present, the playful, seductive gleam returning to his eyes.

“…Let’s get out of here,” Drew says, a hint of something else laced in his words.

“What?” you ask, a little surprised.

“Yeah, you heard me. Let’s get out of here.”

“What? ‘Get out of here’?” you giggle nervously, trying to mask the pulse that suddenly races through you, though part of you already knows exactly what Drew means. “But I’m taking care of Lils- ”

“Not anymore.” Drew’s voice is calm, but his hands are quick, effortlessly lifting Lils out of your arms and into his hold without much work at all. “You’re not- not the babysitter,” he adds.

“Drew, this is your niece’s birthday party. You can’t just leave.”

“She’s two. You think- you think she’ll remember this shit?” Drew glances down at Lils, the innocent little face beaming up at him, then back at you, the smirk still teasing at his lips.

You give him a soft glare, but it barely registers as he begins making his way toward his sisters, Mackayla and Brooke, both in deep conversation with each other.

“Drew- stop,” you say, a soft giggle escaping your lips. You tug at his arm gently, trying to keep him in place. “The party’s almost over anyways. Just a few minutes, yeah?”

He slows down for just a second but doesn’t stop, his steps continuing with that same purposeful stride. He glances back at you, his lips still curled in that devilish smile.

“I- I don’t wanna wait.”

A heat rises to your neck as you fall silent, following him as he closes the distance to his sisters. Without hesitation, Drew interrupts their conversation, forcefully but gently placing his baby niece into Mackayla’s arms. Her mother instincts kick in immediately, holding Lils close to her.

“Here- take your kid,” Drew says, his tone that demanding, teasing way that siblings use when talking to each other.

“What-” Brooke glares at her brother with an exaggerated expression of disbelief. But then her eyes flicker to you, standing close to him, and her gaze softens as she shifts between you two.

You awkwardly stand on your feet under her scrutiny.

“Where are you guys going?” Mackayla rocks Lils in her arms, also looking at you.

“Showing y/n the house,” Drew says, his voice dropping low as his arm slides around your waist, guiding you away from them.

His sisters stare suspiciously at you two. Brooke already gave you a tour.

“Be right back,” Drew murmurs. He doesn’t wait for their response, tapping your waist to get you to move. Your feet follow his lead before you can think about it.

In seconds, you’re inside the house, the hum of the backyard party fading as the kitchen door clicks shut behind you. Drew’s presence envelops you, and you can’t ignore how close he really is, how the space between you seems to shrink.

“You’re showing me the house?” you tease, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you spin around, your sundress flowing with the movement.

Drew’s eyes land on your figure for just a moment, the smirk on his lips sharp, before they quickly flicker behind you, his attention drawn elsewhere.

“Alright- don’t- don’t do that near a window,” he mutters.

You laugh softly, out of shyness and amusement.

You follow him as he walks through the kitchen into the living room, purposely trailing behind.

It’s hard not to notice the way his eyes flicker around, scanning the space, his steps urgent and his back muscles flexing under his shirt.

When he starts walking up the stairs, you stop at the bottom.

Drew’s a few steps up before he realizes he doesn’t hear your footsteps following. He looks down at you, a mix of a smile and something resigned tugging at his features.

Without a second thought, he hurriedly walks back down, and grabs your wrist with a firm, almost commanding grip.

“What are you doing?” Drew asks, a chuckle escaping him as if he already knows the answer.

“What are you doing? Show me around,” you tease, mimicking his words from earlier.

“Babe, c'mon,” he groans, tugging your wrist.

“No, show me the living room or something,” you murmur, the corner of your lips lifting in amusement.

Drew stares into your eyes, his gaze intense, but surprisingly, he lets go.

You smile, before turning to point toward the pictures along the fireplace. The Starkey siblings’ childhood memories sit there, arranged like a timeline of their past. Brooke already introduced you to them, even showing you the entire family album. You’d seen Drew’s younger self, his bob haircut embarrassingly cute.

“Tell me about those- Drew!”

Before you can even finish your sentence, he lifts you off the ground, throwing you over his shoulder. Your ass sticks in the air, and one of his hands comes up, flattening your dress back down.

He lets one hand stay there; caressing the back of your thighs, the other hand on your lower back to steady you in place.

“Drew, what if someone sees us?” You breathe out, as you realize he’s making his way upstairs.

His throaty laugh replies instead.

“Drew- put me down-“

He slaps your ass, rather roughly, the sound echoing for a brief second.

Your gasp follows after, and he laughs once more.

“What? Want me to do it again?” Drew teases.

And because your face is close to his ass, you hit on it; hands balling into fists as you attempt to frustrate him into putting you down.

You wiggle in the process; which just makes him hold you even tighter; not even flinching at your protests.

Your white ballet flats slip off, rolling down the stairs.

The familiar flooring of the second-floor hallway approaches, the sound of it under his heavy steps making it clear that you're getting closer to his room. The moment you hear his door click open, you give up, knowing exactly what’s coming next.

Without a word, he drops you onto his bed, your body bouncing slightly from the force, and you try to prop yourself up with your elbows.

Drew stands at the edge of the bed, watching you with that smirk of his, his chest rising and falling quickly. His hair is slightly messy, a few strands falling over his forehead, adding to the casual look that only seems to make him more irresistible.

The way he’s looking at you, though, is anything but casual.

“Comfortable?” he teases, his voice low and mischievous as he takes a step closer.

You giggle, and instinctively, your feet come up, pushing lightly against his stomach to keep him from coming any closer. “At least show me your room.”

Last time, at Drew’s childhood home, you remember Drew’s bedroom like it was yesterday. The basketball posters, his sports car bed frame, a small table, shelves filled with trophies and books, etc. It was the typical teenage boy’s room.

This, however, was a bit different. This was the summer house.

You scanned his room quickly, taking it all in.

It wasn’t as decorated as his childhood room, the interior different too. The white walls were bare in comparison, except for a couple of posters and a surfboard leaning against one side of the room. In the corner, a guitar rested. His table was cluttered with papers and a few random items, and on the wall, a small basketball hoop hung above his trashcan.

Your eyes don’t linger long because Drew grabs your legs, forcing them apart as he leans down, slowly pressing his weight on you.

“You play guitar?” You continue, as he signals for you to wrap your legs around his waist.

You do; your dress shifting upward, riding up past your hips. Drew glances down at your panties; licking his lips as his hand covers the back of your neck.

“Shut up,”

he practically growls, his voice low and rough as it vibrates through the air.

Instead of feeling embarrassed or insulted, you let out a giggle, a flutter deep in your stomach, a rush of warmth flowing through you.

Casual, casual, casual.

His lips inches from yours, the tip of your noses brushing as he closes the distance.

He finally kisses you after being deprived of it all day; his tongue darting in without hesitation.

You gasp at his urgency, your arms naturally wrapping around his neck. One of his hands steady himself against the bed; the other sliding down further, from the back of your neck, lower, lower, lower, moving to your stomach.

The heat escalates as you explore each other’s mouths; licking, sucking, caressing, or whatever you would use to describe a passionate and lustful kiss.

Moaning into his mouth as he cups you over the pussy, your hips buckling instinctively against him.

You didn’t even know how wet you are from the make-out; until Drew chuckled into your mouth, his chest shaking against yours.

“Soaked, you are,” he murmurs, letting his lips drag along your jawline, before sucking on the skin just below your chin.

You whimper softly as his teeth sink in, head leaning back into the mattress.

He tugs down the waistband of your panties, lugging it just above your knees. At the same time, his lips trail to your cleavage, and he gives each side a quick peck. Your hands play with his hair now; messing, ruffling it just enough to see him smirk, clearly enjoying it.

Drew shifts; positioning himself so his face lies on your stomach, your legs now lazily dangling by his sides.

He plants kisses on your bare tummy; a hand kneading your breast, the other still resting on the bed.

He basically has you trapped under him.

Your back arches as his mouth goes from light brushes to aggressive savoring; tongue licking your skin, moving lower, lower, lower.

Until the tip of his tongue teases your sensitive nub. He teases it; slow and deliberately, earning your breathy gasps, your fingers tangling with his hair.

“Drew…” you whined, the throbbing of your pussy growing louder by the second.

“Mhm?”

Tongue flat against your folds, he licks a long stride of your arousal.

Your breath hitches, moans rippling out of you.

His laughter, all shaky and trembling, echos between your folds, his hot breath fanning the cold sensation.

However, just as you expect him to dive in, eat, clean up the crumbs, he tears himself away.

Your eyebrows knit together, your arms and legs dropping onto the bed.

Drew has that devilish, almost mocking smile on his face as he pushes himself off the bed. You don’t miss the glossy shimmer of saliva (or arousal?) dripping from the corner of his lips, the blue eyes of his taking in your position; your sprawled-out body and dress barely worn right.

You prop yourself up by your elbows; the strips of fabric flowing off your shoulders.

“You got something on your…”

You point to your own lips, before giggling, clasping your thighs back together.

The smirk on his lips remains, and he wipes it off with the back of his hand.

“Now get back here,” you whisper, eyes dropping to his crotch, seeing a very, very obvious outline of his erection.

Drew touches his back pocket, and his expression drops, the playfulness in his eyes quickly replaced with something unreadable.

“What?” you ask, your voice a mix of curiosity and concern, your gaze following his every move.

He pokes his tongue against his cheek; eyes darting around the room as he thinks.

And swear, you could see the exact second when it finally clicks through his mind.

“Don’t- don’t go anywhere,” he murmurs, his tone soft but firm as he walks out of the room.

As his footsteps fade away, it’s only then that you realize- he never closed the door.

…Idiot.

A small, frustrated laugh escapes you.

You can’t believe you didn’t notice earlier.

What if someone saw? Idiot, really.

You bite on your bottom lip as you waited, looking around his room. Oh, there’s even a CD player resting on the shelves, with booklets of of albums. Mostly old ones, worn at the edges, the artwork faded with time.

You hear footsteps again.

Sure enough, Drew’s back.

A light smile plays on his lips as he steps in- and then, casually, effortlessly, he rips open a small foil package.

“Close the door!” You whisper-yell.

He pauses, glances over his shoulder- then quickly shoves it shut. The force of it sends a loud thud echoing through the house.

Good thing everyone’s downstairs, outside.

You let out an excited laugh as you sit up slightly, spreading your legs to let Drew in.

“Where did you get that?” You ask, as he yanks his pants down, just enough to let his hard-on spring out. Your eyes flicker to his cock; already leaking his precum.

“Logan,” he murmurs, knees sinking into the mattress. “Lay down.”

You do as told; resting your elbows and letting your hands lay on your stomach. “What, he’s- he’s next door?”

“His suitcase,” he clarifies, a hint of frustration peeking through as his hands grip his cock, trying to wrap the plastic around it.

Wait-

It’s pink.

You fail to hold back your laugh, watching as obviously, it’s a different color, and it’s not his size.

“Fuck,” he groans, a smile tugging at his lips, whether from the situation or your laugh, you can’t tell.

But you just laugh harder, watching him struggle.

“Here- lemme help you- ” you murmured, sitting up and brushing his hands away, “- princess Sophia.”

You giggle at the name, biting your lip as you watch his reaction.

But the moment your gaze meets his, the air shifts.

His smile disappears like a switch flipped off, his jaw tightening. His blue eyes- dark, narrowed- lock onto you with a heat that’s no longer playful.

His hands fall to his sides as yours wrap around his length, gently tugging on the plastic, and adding a few strokes.

“Never,” he breathes out, obviously trying to hold out a moan at the way you touch him, “never say that again.”

You blink, still grinning, but your breath catches a little.

“Or what?” You press. You get the condom on him; tight and barely covering him, but it works, the translucent pink standing out from the corner of your eyes.

His hand comes up fast, covering your mouth. With one sharp push, he forces you back down onto the bed, your body hitting the sheets with a soft thud, your laughter muffled by his palm.

“Shut up,” he murmurs, licking his lips.

You sigh into the palm of his hand, letting your legs wrap around his waist, guiding him downward.

Then fuck me already, your eyes say.

Drew lets out a throaty laugh; hands leaving you to run through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. “You’re killing me,” he comments, lifting your hips to angle your entrance with his dick.

You feel his tip drag along your drenched clit; smearing the wetness. You shudder, you head dropping back as he continues to glide his cock against your folds.

With a slow push, he sinks into you, nestled between your legs.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Drew,” is all you manage to breathe out as he stretches your folds.

He groans at the way you say his name; gripping your hips as if it was the only thing keeping him from collapsing onto you.

Your walls tighten around his thick length; and his eyes flutter close at the feeling, pausing to savor it.

Reaching out, you let your hand overlap his, holding lazily.

Move already, your eyes say.

He smirks, and his hand catches yours in a firm, rough grip. He drives it down, pressing the palm of your hand flat against your own hip, now completely claimed beneath his touch.

Holding you, he pulls out, before pushing his cock back in. He makes sure to return fully in- making you soak in every bit of his length.

“Oh,“ you moan, your other hand clinging onto the sheets.

“Yeah? I haven’t even started,” he grunts, pulling out of you, before rolling his hips back in.

He’s knee-deep into the mattress, the bed sinking under his weight as he continues the same process over and over again.

Each thrust begins slow, drawn out- intentional, like a tease. He chuckles at the way you squirm underneath him; your mouth agape as your eyes fluttered up at him.

“Wait- wait,”

Drew breathes out, and his smirk widens, his eyes glued down at your stomach.

You follow his line of focus- and you see it.

A bulge peeking out with every snap of his hip.

You couldn’t help but giggle dumbly at that; your head falling back.

“Shit- that’s- fuck,”

Is all Drew manages to stumble out as he slides faster, rougher, sloppier into you, amused by your tummy bulge.

It’s happened before; he’s noticed this before; but he gets excited like a child getting a new toy, every time he sees it.

“Mhm, you- you like that?” You breathe out, your own body shivering with the way he’s hammering into you.

The slapping of skins develops into a sloppily rhythmic melody, paired with soft moans and low grunts, with occasional low chuckles. Your eyes focus on the way his bracelet dangles, the metals shining just briefly, adding to the liquid heat building in you.

He lets go of your hand; tracing the hard outline of your tummy.

“You- ” he starts to lean down, slowly letting his weight crash onto you. It allows his cock to sink deeper, nudging against your g-spot. You moan, loud and unfiltered into his ear as he presses a kiss on your cheek. “-you have no idea.”

Your arms wrap around his shoulder as his movements become jerky and messier, repeatedly attacking your g-spot.

To the point where your knot snaps, without warning, unexpected.

Maybe it was the sex, his words, or just him.

But it sends you over the edge, moaning his name, shivering as it flows through you.

Drew laughs, and he kisses the corner of your mouth, “oh, my baby,” he coos, giving the last few thrusts to chase his own high.

Your arms fall to the side; panting as his length still slammed into you, your body trembling beneath him.

His cock twitches, and- and he bites your shoulder.

It’s so random and unlike everything before; the pain and pleasure mixing in together as his cum spills into the condom, that you just lay there, breathing in his sweat, cologne, everything.

His teeth latched onto your skin, hard enough to leave a mark, definitely.

“Aw, fuck,” he mumbles, a low groan escaping.

He presses a hand into the mattress beside your head, lifting his weight off of you, but still close, hovering on top.

Drew’s blue eyes look down at you, lazy and satisfied, a corner of his lips twisted into a smirk. There’s a faint trail of saliva clinging to his mouth, catching the light.

“Ow,”

you whisper, delayed, breathy, but not really complaining. Your tired smile mirrors the haze in your eyes as your hand drifts up, fingers brushing the corner of his mouth.

You swipe the trail away gently, holding his face in your hands.

His eyes flicker to your lips, and the smirk curves into a full smile- the one that produces winkles at the corners of his eyes.

It’s the kind of smile that feels warm and dangerous all at once.

The kind of smile that settles under your skin before you even realize it.

The kind of smile that feels casual.

The kind of smile with no attachments.

“Your skin’s soft,” he compliments.

“But you didn’t need to bite me,” you shoot back, a soft giggle following after.

“Aw, but you like it,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to your shoulder.

You follow his gaze- and it’s there, red, indented, a blooming imprint of teeth.

That’s when it hits you; his family’s still downstairs, and your sundress isn’t going to cover this. Not even close. It’s not the kind of mark that fades in a few minutes either.

You turn your gaze back to him, eyes narrowing, your smile quickly replaced by a pout. “Drew,” you whisper, dragging his name out like a warning. “You bit me.”

“I did,” he says, completely unbothered, the pride in his voice unmistakable. He leans in and gives your lips a quick, smug little peck- before slowly pulling out of you.

He pushes himself off, the proximity gone.

“Drew, this is serious. How am I supposed to hide this?”

He takes care of the pink condom; wrapping it up and disposing it in the trash.

“It’ll fade in a few minutes,” he says with a lazy grin, adjusting his pants. His eyes trail over your wrecked form sprawled across the bed, and he licks his lips slowly.

Then leans back against the edge of the table, arms crossed, his muscles flexing, “you’ll be fine. You- you are fine.”

A few quiet seconds pass before Drew moves again.

He walks back to you, and handles you by the waist, pulling you to sit upright. You sway slightly, but he steadies you, letting your head lay on his chest.

His heartbeat hammers against your walls.

Casual, casual, casual.

He’s got tissues in his hands; and he wipes your pussy clean, gently taking care of you.

When he’s done, he fixes your attire; adjusting the straps back over your shoulders, sliding your underwear back on, smoothing the hem of your dress back to its place.

The bracelet and ring brushes against your skin ever so often.

Casual, casual, casual.

You study the side of his face; taking in the slight part of his glossed lips, the way his blue eyes stay locked on you. His hair is messy, a little damp with sweat. Your gaze trails over the tip of his nose, then down to the soft curve of a double chin that appears at this angle.

“It’s not so bad,” Drew murmurs, fingertips grazing the bite mark on your shoulder- the one your sundress strap barely manages to cover.

Casual, casual, casual.

“Let me do it to you, then it’s even."

“…do me then.” the double meaning doesn’t go unnoticed.

You’re laying on his chest, looking up, eyes locking for a split second before it crumbles- you break into laughter, unable to hold it in. He snorts, then laughs too, chest shaking beneath you.

Somewhere between the laughter, he presses a quick kiss to the corner of your eye.

Your gaze drifts around the room, and you’re remembering that this is his childhood room. The one he spent summers in. The surfboard propped in the corner, the guitar leaning against the wall, shelves cluttered with music and memories. It smells like him, like salt and dust and something warm you can’t name.

If you’re going to be here a little longer, you figure, you might as well make it count.

“You play guitar?” you ask again.

“Sometimes,” he murmurs. One hand comes up to the back of your neck, fingers curling gently, rubbing slow, lazy circles into your skin.

“‘Sometimes’? But I’ve never seen you play.”

He shrugs, “you never- you never asked to see me play.”

“…play it right now.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why not?”

“Barely remember shit,” he mutters, and you see those sapphire orbs of his flicker to your lips, “…barely remember shit.”

You cock your head to the side, eyes beaming at him. Your hands slip under his shirt without warning, palms pressing against his stomach- warm skin, hard muscle, the faint trail beneath your fingertips. You start to massage gently, slow circles over his abs, coaxing.

You watch his jaw flex like he’s trying not to smile, but really, already folding.

“…okay,” he murmurs, giving in.

Your smile spreads as he walks over to the guitar propped against the wall. He picks it up with a quiet kind of care, fingers brushing off a thin layer of dust from the body. Then he walks back and sits beside you on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight.

The guitar rests comfortably in his hands, though it's clear it’s been a while. He strums a few hesitant chords- a little off, before reaching up to adjust the tuning pegs at the headstock, testing each string.

“You got a, a song in mind?” Drew asks once he finishes tuning, blue eyes flicking up to meet yours, searching.

You shift on the bed, lying on your side to face him, propping your head up with one hand, your palm cradling your cheek. “Thought you barely remember.”

He smirks, fingers hovering over the strings. “…just recommend one.”

You glance away, thinking. One comes to mind almost immediately- the one that’s been on loop lately.

“Shallow.”

He bites his lower lip, nodding slowly.

Yeah, he knows. He’s heard you humming it, caught it on the shared playlist, playing in your AirPods, playing in the car.

“Sing- sing the start again,” Drew purposely says.

You give him a shy smile, already feeling the warmth rise to your cheeks, but you do it anyway. You hum the beginning of the song, soft and unsure, the melody slipping from your lips a little uneven. The lyrics come out half-mumbled, half-forgotten, but you keep going, biting back a laugh as you stumble through them.

His eyes don’t leave your mouth.

Then, when you finish, he finally looks down at the guitar. His fingers move slowly, thoughtfully- and he begins to play the melody exactly as you sang it, mistakes and all.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you watch him, listen to the quiet chords filling the space between you.

“I’m falling... in all the good times…”

Drew sings the line without thinking, his voice low, a little rough, laced with that lazy drawl he always has when he’s not trying too hard. Somehow, that makes it worse. Or better. You’re not sure.

Your breath catches before you even realize it, and the playful smile you wore a second ago slips, just a little. Your eyes soften, doe-eyed and open, completely undone by something so small.

Casual, casual, casual.

But it’s not.

Not when he’s sitting this close, not when your heartbeat stutters just hearing his voice wrapped around a song that’s been sitting in your chest for weeks. Not when he’s still so unaware of the weight he’s tossing around with every offhand lyric.

Drew strums once more, half-heartedly, then stops just before Gaga’s next verse. Looks up at you, totally oblivious, grinning like nothing's changed.

“You like that?” he asks, lips tugging up at the corner.

Yeah. You do. Maybe more than you should.

“Not bad,” you manage to say. You hope he doesn’t see how flustered and completely gone you are right now.

“‘Not bad’?”

“Yeah. You- you got some parts wrong.”

He chuckles under his breath, “you sang it wrong though.”

“Blaming me now?”

“…maybe.”

It’s quiet for a moment, that perfect little stretch of tension hanging between you, before he says softly, “come here.”

You glance at him, confused for a second. “…I’m already here,” you say, laying on the bed next to him.

But then he gestures with a shift in his posture, opening his legs slightly. “No, I mean, come here.”

It clicks in your head, and you crawl, sitting in between his legs.

You lay your back against his chest, the warmth of him immediately surrounding you as the guitar nestles in front of you.

His arms come around you, and you melt, melt into him like butter. His hands move- one guiding yours to the fretboard, the other settling on the sound hole.

You feel his fingers slide over yours, teaching you the placement, Drew wrapped around you in the most natural, intimate way.

“You’re gonna teach me?” You murmur, your face inches from his, your nose grazing his jawline as you look up at him.

He hums in response, that soft sound vibrating against your back.

You can barely focus as he shows you how to strum, how to move your fingers, how to hold the chords.

Your brain’s fogged, lips slightly parted, eyes half-lidded.

You’re not listening to the melody. Not really.

"You’re a natural," Drew whispers- and that’s when you realize he’s stopped, at the same spot, right before Lady Gaga’s verse.

“I am,” you whisper back, as he leans in and kisses the tip of your nose.

“You getting comfortable?”

“I am.” he kisses the corner of your mouth.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you murmur- and this time, you close the distance.

Your hands reach up, fingers threading through his hair, gentle and certain.

The guitar slips away somewhere between your bodies, forgotten on the bed.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer like instinct, like gravity.

You kiss him- slow, tender- and he kisses you back like he always does. Like he can’t help it. Like he physically can’t do it without you.

A few seconds, minutes, maybe even hours might’ve passed by the time you finally pull apart- both of you gasping, smiling giddily.

“You wanna head downstairs?” Drew asks, voice low, still breathless.

“Is it gone?” you whisper, tilting your head slightly, referring to the bite mark on your shoulder.

He shifts, his head cocking to the side as he stares at the spot. Your fingers lazily wrap around a soft strand of his shirt, as he squints, inspecting.

“Yeah.”

You turn your head, following his gaze.

It is gone.

So, reluctantly, you peel yourself off of him, standing slowly, hands smoothing over your dress.

Drew leaves the guitar on the bed, and then- he reaches for your hand.

No words, no glance- just his fingers brushing yours, finding them easily. And sure enough, your fingers interlock like they’ve done it a thousand times before.

He leads you out of his room, and as you walk beside him you glance at his face; neutral, unreadable.

Holding hands. Something very causal to do, apparently.

You trail a step behind him as you both descend the stairs, your eyes stuck on the place where your hands are joined. How could you not? The way his thumb brushes along your knuckle feels thoughtless, natural, nice.

“Shit- your shoes,”

Drew says suddenly, half-laughing.

You blink down and remembered how they slipped off on the stairs earlier.

He bends down slightly- still holding your hand, and grabs them. He places your shoes neatly in front of your feet so you can easily slide into them.

“Thank you,” you whisper, as you slip your feet into them.

Drew gives you a quick wink, a playful glint in his eyes, before continuing down the stairs.

Nearing the end, the distant hum of voices starts to grow louder; laughter, silverware, footsteps.

Thought everyone was outside?

It’s not coming from the living room, as the two of you checked.

However, just as Drew turns the corner, just as the noise becomes real, closer, and the world outside of the two of you floods back in-

He lets go.

Just… drops your hand.

Immediate, sharp.

When you look at him, he’s already a few steps ahead, like it never happened at all.

“What are you guys doing in here?” you hear Drew say.

You try to stop the frown forming at your lips, but it’s slowly sinking in. Quiet and slow, like an ache. Your hand- the one he had held- you rub it against your stomach, feeling the material. Like that’ll distract you. Like it’ll help.

You glance around the kitchen. His two siblings are moving through it like a well-rehearsed routine, grabbing plates, reaching into cabinets, passing things between each other.

Drew’s by the fridge now, grabbing a bottle of water. Or sparkling water. You don’t really know.

You don’t really care, actually.

“We’re cutting the cake now. Where’s y/n?” Brooke asks, glancing around the kitchen with a plate in her hand.

Drew leans back against the counter, then nods in your direction, chin tilted just slightly, and those blue eyes of his lock on yours.

Two almost identical pairs of eyes follow, putting you under a spotlight.

You force a smile, your legs moving on their own, carrying you forward.

“How’s the house tour?” Logan asks, and the second the words leave his mouth, you feel your ears burn.

Your eyes flick to Drew before you can stop yourself. His expression changes in an instant. Not dramatic, very subtle- his jaw tenses, lips pressed into a flat line, his entire body suddenly still as he leans against the counter. He stares at the back of Logan’s head with a look that could cut glass.

Brooke catches it too. She nudges Logan in the shoulder, a silent knock it off, passed between siblings like a second language.

“It was fine,” you say finally, pushing the words through a tight smile. You meet Logan’s teasing gaze with one of your own- friendly, distant, like you didn’t just come down the stairs with Drew’s warmth still clinging to your skin.

“Mhm,” is all Logan replies, but you catch the way his lips twitch at the corners. Logan grabs the plates in both hands, muttering something under his breath as he speeds out of the kitchen, escaping before another sibling can ‘attack’ him.

"Ignore him," Brooke assures, holding the silverware and knife in one hand, her other ready to grab the cake box.

“Here- let me." you immediately reach out to take the cake box from her.

“Oh- um, thanks,” Brooke smiles as your hands brush the blue handles of the cake.

As his siblings leave, Drew takes the box from you.

You look up at him. He’s staring down at you intently, his blue eyes searching yours as he holds the box by the handle.

“You okay?”

No, no, I’m not okay.

“Of course.”

He hums, and simply nods, accepting your answer without question.

You look away, your chest tight.

You walk out the house, the noise of his family sweeping over you as you blend into the crowd of Starkeys.

Drew steps out shortly after, and placing it on the long table, he undoes the cake box, revealing a big, cute cake decorated with colorful frosting.

You stand a few steps away, quietly observing, letting the warmth of the scene wash over you.

Drew laughs at something someone says, his eyes lighting up, his hands expertly lighting the candles on top. His mom is next to him, helping with the candles, a bright smile on her face. Makayla stands nearby, holding Lils in her arms, her husband leaning in to kiss her cheek.

They start singing Happy Birthday, and you can’t help but smile, the whole scene feeling like a snapshot of something genuine.

And while everyone sings to the little girl squirming in her mom’s arms, Drew’s eyes are glued to you.

He’s not looking at the candles.

Not at the cake.

Not at the birthday girl.

Just you.

There’s a slight smile on his lips, relaxed, familiar- and you can’t help but smile back, even as your heart kicks up in your chest.

Once the song is over, Makayla urges her daughter to blow out the candles. Clueless, Drew does it instead, a quick puff of air before the family applauds.

You stay off to the side, watching as they start cutting the cake, handing out slices on plates.

People move around you, but you just stand there, wondering;

Is it still casual?

------------------------------

word count: 7.3k

࣪𖤐 a/n: longest fic i've ever written. also, I SUCK AT WRITING SMUT TF

also i finished new girl. i have a crush on nick miller

casual taglist: @maybankslover @rafeyswifey @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @amb3rsaurus @bananaminn @rafecamerons-national-anthem @milky321 @drewnationalgf @iraslore @ursogorgeous13 @jamimers @hockeybabe87 @jqtsblyth @virgochaos @wolvestitches @dontblamethedrunkcaller @esposamultifandom @starkeysfile @rlalliehayes @pillowprincess4him

elevator | other | more casual!drew

#every single part of this series has me screaming crying throwing up #‘he’d kiss you like he’d been holding his breath all day and just remembered how to breathe’#WDYM CASUAL #i need him #fic rec

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