Dylan O'brien & Other-Smut-Imagines

The Guy In The Bar

Hi guys, I'm back-ish...

senior year's so stressful ugh

 OK so I was watching the History video from One Direction ( cause 1D for life man) and please tell me I'm not the only one who noticed Harry and Niall going one way and Louis and Liam going another way and immediately thought about the fact that Louis and Liam are going off to be fathers and Niall's going solo and Harry's acting and going solo too? i may be over thinking this but who knows .....

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Cigarette smoke and bourbon. That's all I could smell in this shit hole of a bar. I'm not complaining though. I've spent most of my nights in this place for the past month or so, drowning my sorrows because let's face it...life fucking sucks.

Catching the guy you've been with for three years, fucking some little twenty year old tramp in your bed, would make you pretty bitter too. And on the day you got fired from your job because they were 'downsizing', what a bunch of fucking bullshit. So, of course I kicked his ass to the curb ASAP. I'm not putting up with that shit. I came here that night because it was close to my apartment, but I've found myself coming back here every night since then.

I did the adulting thing, found another job, so I'm not an alcoholic, I don't spend the whole day drinking. Just my nights. The place is pretty low key, mostly just regulars and a few college kids who stumble in every once and awhile. I can sit at the bar as long as I want and no one usually bothers me. I'm on a first name basis with the bartender/owner. He seems like a pretty cool guy. Middle aged, hippy dude. His name is Sam. Sam doesn't talk much, which I appreciate. No unnecessary chit chat.

I lazily wave my hand to Sam, signaling that I'm ready for another round. He places the glass of Jack in front of me, giving me a small smile and continues on with his work.

The TV has all of my attention tonight, the Boston Red Sox are playing the New York Mets. I'm a die-hard Red Sox fan, so I try to watch every game I can. Sam know this, he puts the games on for me when I come in. The Red Sox are up 3-2 in the bottom of the 5th inning. Ortiz hits a grounder to short, the call so close but they call him out.

"Aww that's some bullshit! He was fucking safe! Get some glasses you blind piece of shit!" I yell at the TV.

"He was out by a mile," I hear someone call out a few seats down from me.

I look to my right, past a few of the other patrons to see a very good looking guy leaned forward against the bar. Dark brown hair, one eyebrow raised challengingly. 

Who the fuck is this guy?

"You're a Mets fan aren't you?" I nod my head at him.

He smirks, then winks at me, grabs his drink and gets up, walking toward me.

As he gets closer I can see him better in the dim light. He's fucking gorgeous. Tall, slim, hair standing out every which way, a jawline you could cut glass on. He sits down next to me and I try my damnedest to keep my cool. Guys like this never come in here. Usually I just wear my jeans and a t shirt when I come here, but for some reason tonight I decided to wear my black halter top sun dress, which makes my tits look amazing. Good decision.

"Dylan," he holds his hand out introducing himself.

I swivel my stool to look at him, giving him the once over and narrow my eyes slightly.

Jesus where did this one come from? He looks like he just stepped out of a movie.

I offer my hand and tell him my name. "Never seen you in here before," I turn back and take a sip of my drink.