Crush/Boyfriend Imagines

Drunk And Mistaken 1

You woke up to a soft grunt of the person laying in front of you, with his back turned to face you. Frowning at the sleeping man, you glazed your eyes over the muscles on his back, watching his body slowly rise up and down due to his calm breathing.

Your head ached when you tried to turn around.

How much did you drink last night, for god's sake? You didn't even remember getting in bed with anyone.

Wait…

You peeked under the covers, felt the comforter hug your bare skin.

You were naked.

You slept with someone and did not even remember who.

Fucking hell.

You pulled the blanket closer to your chin and let out a groan. And the sound was apparently loud enough to wake the man next to you.

He turned around, e/c eyes meeting yours, crinkled slightly by his smile.

When you saw his face, your own face paled and you felt bile rise in your throat.

No, no, no. This must be a bad dream. I had definitely not slept with C/n.

But your convincing was to no avail. There were way too many proofs saying otherwise - your two naked bodies in the same bed, and your total blackout from yesterday night.

You could remember you had a few drinks in the bar with your friends, you could remember feeling tipsy. But you did not know whether you had drunk afterwards, as well. You did not know how you got home, and why in the hell decided to sleep with C/n, your flatmate and someone you hated as no one else.

You felt sick, disgusted.

The smile previously brightening C/n’s face fell down when he saw the frowning expression on your own face. “Good morning, Y/n. Are you feeling sick?” he appeared concerned, which did not sound like him at all - you two were usually insulting yourself every opportunity you got to see him, which was quite a lot since you lived in the same apartment together, although you became kind of a pro at avoiding him whenever possible. The mere sight of him made your blood boil.

And now he was asking you if you were sick as if he was your friend? What game was he playing?

Your fingers curled around the edge of the comforter. “Yes. Because the first thing I saw this morning is you.”

He appeared caught off guard for a second or two. After the moment of confusion, though, he opened his mouth. “What? Last night you begged to have me,” he retorted back, gaining back his usual demeanor, concerned and worried expression morphed into one smirking and mocking.

Your cheeks reddened in embarrassment. “And you slept with me even though you knew I wasn't thinking straight.”

“I didn't want to, but you practically latched yourself onto me and undressed me before I could blink.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “That's not true. I wouldn't do that.”

He raised his brow, a smirk playing on his lips. “You sure?”

“I hate you,” you seeped.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers, chest rising up with a deep sigh. “Of course you do, we all know that.” He sounded rather annoyed, suddenly. Exhausted, almost.

“What's got you so bitter now?”

He shrugged, eyes skimming away. Then, his eyes trailed back to you, over your bare shoulders and hands clutching at the blanket. “What are you still doing here?”