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satoruxx · 3 months ago

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THE SPACE BETWEEN COMFORT AND CHAOS.

✧ PAIRING: wolf!toji fushiguro x f!reader | 4.3k words

✧ SUMMARY: wolfhybrid!toji, hybrid au, flashback centric, grumpy x sunshine, animalistic behavior, mentions of injuries, violence, societal inequality, arguments, hateful speech towards hybrids, dysfunctional families, and a shit ton of angst and anger, lil fluff at the end !!

✧ RHEYA'S NOTE: hiii it's my birthday this weekend so i'm dropping chapter 4 as a quick thank you for all the support !! i love you all so much <33 this one is very toji centric and gives a lot of his past and lore to explain why he is the way he is and what led him to find reader !! there is a lot of inequality in this chapter so keep that in mind as you proceed. as always i would recommend checking out the previous parts before reading this :33

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the smell of blood makes toji's eyes crack open. it fills his nostrils, heavy and metallic, and it makes his hair stand on end. despite being so used to that scent, it still makes him uneasy, because sometimes he cannot tell whose blood it is.

once his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, he can't fall back asleep, though he knows he still needs rest. a series of cracks echo from his joints as he sits up, pulses of fatigue swimming through his muscles. pushing up from the ground, he casually approaches the metal bars of his cell.

his cage.

his nose twitches, the smell of blood stronger now that he's closer. a loud yawn rips from his throat, eyes catching some guards dragging another hybrid who had fought that day. he watches them throw the unconscious animal into his cell, not sparing another glance as they turn away. the sounds of their boots gets on toji's nerves, but he does not even have enough time to pity the poor creature.

another set of guards approach his cell. he's sure that they might once again tell him off for being too aggressive, or for not following orders, or for another whipping, but he's saved this time because they're just escorting a hybrid.

a familiar hybrid.

"what's wrong?" toji drawls, lips tugging into a casual smirk. "did y'lose?"

the tiger hybrid hisses angrily in return, as though personally offended, and bares his teeth. his striped ears starkly contrast his pinkish hair.

"like hell," sukuna answers proudly.

toji is about to comment on the various bloodied scratches littering sukuna's body, but one of the guards roughly shoves the tiger into his cell.

"get in!"

sukuna turns to pin him with a murderous glare, tone even and chilling. "touch me again and i'll kill you."

the guard scoffs, unbothered, before shutting the barred door behind him. sukuna's anger rises, but he does not say anything else, choosing to stare daggers at them until they've disappeared around the corner. toji understands the feeling. it would be a piece of cake to rip their throats out, especially for predators as vicious as wolves and tigers.

but they can't. one scratch on a human and they'd be put down.

a beat of silence passes. toji is sure the hybrid sitting across the hall is also thinking about the same thing, so used to biting his tongue just to stay alive.

(he remembers the first day sukuna got thrown in, hisses and snapping teeth as he cursed the guards with all sorts of creativity. toji had been underground long enough to see the same spectacle over and over again, and so he hadn't really given a damn at that time. the two passed weeks in silence, purely focused on their own individual fights and then immediately falling asleep once back in their respective cells.

toji was no expert at reading people, but he could tell that the tiger was as stubborn as he was—they refused to acknowledge one another.

and when they were finally pitted against each other, it was a messy fight. toji still remembers the way the crowd had roared at their aggressive attacks, every draw of blood eliciting some sick twisted pleasure within them.

toji had been used to putting in the bare minimum during his fights, finding it relatively easy to win against other predators. but that fight against sukuna was the first time he struggled a little bit.

the tiger will never admit it, but the feeling was definitely mutual.

so after the brawl, when they were both quietly sitting in their cages and hissing at their wounds stubbornly, there was a brief moment of acknowledgement.

"where the hell did you learn how to fight like that?" the tiger had eyed toji warily, thick brows furrowed in a way that made him look extra grumpy.

after that, it seemed that there was a mutual sense of respect between the two of them. they are not friends per se, definitely not. both toji and sukuna know that if it came down to it, they would kill the other in the arena if it meant staying alive.

but there was an understanding that they were both on the same level. and it seemed that those who ran the fights understood that too.

after all, fights between the two of them were always a very popular spectacle.)

even now, sukuna doesn't look at toji, too busy muttering a string of insults aimed at the guard from earlier. toji ignores them, used to it. they remain in that same silence, not uncomfortable, but not really comfortable either.

toji takes a seat, crossing his legs and leaning against the cold bars. he can still hear the sounds of the guards footsteps echoing through the halls, and that just makes him crave freedom—another familiar feeling.

he should be used to it by now. craving what he cannot have.

sukuna seems to know what he's thinking, because he scoffs with a dramatic roll of his eyes. "don't start."

"you don't ever think about running?" toji ponders, dragging his claws across the stone floor. the tiger's ears twitch, sensitive to the sound, and he throws toji a scathing scowl.

"run? where the hell would we go?" the tiger grumbles, crossing his bulky arms. "you know they'll just find us again. it's pointless."

"but it's happened before," toji insists, scratching behind his ear absentmindedly. there have always been whispers floating through the compound, of hybrids with guts of steel that took it upon themselves to make a run for it. though several were caught and devastatingly punished, there were those who they never saw again. the idea that they must be somewhere where light shines and wind blows is strangely comforting.

"yeah rarely," the tiger snorts in return. a quiet hiss of displeasure escapes his lips as he notices the claw marks running up his arm, and he carefully begins licking at his wounds. "most of the time those fools get caught. and then they get punished."

toji shrugs noncommittally, leaning his head against the bars. "worth the risk."

sukuna curiously peers at him from over his injured arm, heavy brows furrowed. "you really think it's that much better up there?"

"anywhere's better than in here." toji says it resolutely, and sukuna, normally so snippy, says nothing to rebuke him.

before the conversation can continue, toji's nostrils fill with a familiar scent—cigarettes, ironed clothes, faint whiskey. he suppresses a roll of his eyes.

"look who it is." he sarcastically cranes his neck, watching as shiu kong approaches his cell with a nonchalant smile.

"you sure do look relaxed for someone who just had me do a shit ton of paperwork." shiu leans against the wall, eyeing toji through the cell. toji does not like that he has to look up to meet his gaze, so he gets to his feet and casually crosses his arms.

"what the fuck did i do?"

"lots of people enjoyed your fight yesterday. with the polar bear?" shiu pulls out a cigarette, and toji's nose crinkles. "you've got an increase in bets, y'know?"

"who cares?" toji mutters, pushing away from the bars to pace around his cell.

it's not like any of the hybrids get that money.

"i do," shiu chuckles, cigarette balanced between his lips. "you're helping me get paid."

"lucky you," toji sarcastically shoots back. shiu snorts in amusement, crossing his arms.

"anyways, i'm thinking this is a good time to host a big fight for you. the timing is good." toji's "manager" (if that's what you can call him) eyes the wolf as he exhales a puff of smoke. toji's eyes narrow in return, a feeling of anticipation and mild irritation crawling up his skin.

"so you two—" shiu nods his head towards the wolf and the grumpy tiger sitting across the hall. "—prepare for a show, alright?"

sukuna curses colorfully, and toji rolls his eyes. "relax. i'm not giddy to fight you either, asshole."

"yeah because you'll lose," the tiger hisses, baring his teeth.

"oh yeah? that's not what happened last time." toji grins wolfishly, watching sukuna's anger rise.

"because you fucking cheated!"

"aw, little cat can't handle a few bites?" toji's amusement becomes more palpable, enjoying the argument—a very common occurrence for the two of them. "that's why dogs are better."

"i'll kill you," sukuna utters ominously, his striped tail puffed and curling in an aggressively defensive display.

"try it," toji smirks back.

"alright easy boys," shiu chuckles, shaking his head in mild exasperation. "save that energy for the actual fight. people eat that shit up."

"and somehow we're the animals," sukuna grumbles, deciding he's done with the conversation as he heads over to the corner of his cell and curls up on the ground.

"well yeah," shiu shrugs, unfazed. "you should be used to that by now."

they are.

"anyway i figured i'd let you know." the older man turns to face toji. "i know most of the fights are pretty easy for you. but since you both are top tier fighters, prepare how you need to."

"it's not like we've never fought before," toji replies dryly, ears twitching. "i know how it goes down."

"well okay." shiu adjusts his suit jacket, shoving his hands into his pockets.

from the corner of his eye, toji can see sukuna listening in, face impassive.

"you two give me a good show, alright?" shiu casually waves over his shoulder, before heading off back in the direction he came.

"whatever," sukuna grunts, turning on his side. toji watches the tiger's tail lazily flick—side to side. "i hate dogs."

toji lets out a dry chuckle. "well i'm not the biggest fan of cats either, asshole."

again, they aren't friends, but the bleakness of their situation makes it easier to tolerate one another.

a week later, they both face off in the area as promised. shiu claps toji on the back before he heads in, a gesture that makes the wolf's skin prickle, but he brushes it off. he could have someone worse be in charge of him, but shiu is a bit easier to get along with than most of the humans down there. though toji isn't naive—the only reason shiu is so casually cheery around him is because toji is his biggest moneymaker.

that's what it all came down to.

sukuna and toji have both fought enough times to know how to play to the crowd's wishes. they bark and snarl at each other like they are truly wild, claws and teeth and blood everywhere because they know that's what gets the humans going.

that's what gets them to open their wallets at least.

sukuna takes the victory this time around, which is not inherently unusual—they both have a fairly even split of victories and losses. they play up their enmity, and everyone goes wild.

even though hybrids are the shackled ones, somehow these humans remind toji of puppets—so easily manipulated.

the two of them stand and rile up the crowd at the end, acting like they truly are nothing but feral animals who know only to growl and snap at each other. as soon as they hear the sounds of money being exchanged and the roar of conversation they are escorted back to their cells.

toji's ears ring with the sounds of groans and cheers, the same familiar words grating his ears.

"i told you sukuna would win this one!"

"yeah but i said toji would draw first blood, so pay up!"

imbeciles. savages. nothing humane about them.

in their cells, both of them do their best to clean up their wounds. but a fight this aggressive usually results in equally rough damage.

"i think you fractured my rib or something," toji grunts, wincing as he sits down. sukuna throws him an unimpressed look through the bars of his cage.

"not my fault you're weak."

toji's middle finger flies up automatically, and sukuna's lips pull up to one side. "ask them for medical if it's that bad."

"yeah right," toji snorts, licking away the blood that has been dripping from the corner of his mouth. "like they'll listen."

it's more of a curse that hybrids have a better pain tolerance than humans. the medics here never take their injuries seriously for that exact reason.

no instead, they are expected to clean up as they can and prepare for the next fight, letting their body heal as well as possible. humans have always been so hypocritical.

they both relax in a welcome silence. toji suddenly realizes how tired he is, jade eyes straining as he attempts to fix himself up. he knows the rules—damaged merchandise is treated as such.

his ears pick up the faint sound of footsteps approaching, and he realizes that it's probably shiu coming over to update them about the earnings of their fights.

but he is entirely surprised.

"wow, you're definitely a sight."

toji's eyes narrow, teeth gritting. his mood plummets, ears straightening and tail going rigid. the sound of that voice makes every bit of hatred in toji's body come bubbling to the surface. he glares over his shoulder, spitting out each word with extreme difficulty. "what the fuck do you want?"

naoya zenin looks down his nose at the wolf, a greasy smile on his face. naobito zenin stands just behind him, arms crossed with a barely visible look of disgust on his face.

toji's cousin conveniently ignores the accusatory question, peering around the cells and hallway with feigned interest. "these conditions are terrible!"

he finally pins toji with his gaze, an evil smile pulling at his lips. "well, that's to be expected for animals."

"what the fuck do you want?!" toji growls, claws digging into the ground. naoya's eyes light up at the anger, knowing full well that those claws can never come anywhere near him.

"temper! temper!" the blonde gasps, tutting at toji like he's nothing more than a child. "haven't you learned how to control yourself by now?"

"let me out of this cell and i'll show you just how much control i have." the wolf's voice is no more than a rumble, dark and ominous because there is nothing in the world that toji hates more than his own family.

naoya shakes his head, feigning a look of disappointment. "so violent. it's a good thing we put you in here. who knows how dangerous you could've been to us."

the words hit their mark, a jab of self-hatred. toji's green eyes flit over to his uncle, sharp and accusatory.

the one who ratted him out to this godforsaken place.

toji knows when normal families have a predator hybrid born into their home, they lie and cheat and hide them away from this life—too desperate to keep their child away from such danger. after all, it's not the child's fault they were born a predator.

but not toji's family. not the zenins, who took one look at him and waited for the second he turned 18 before hauling him off.

nothing but a bunch of rats.

he knows that he was worth a lot of money. a healthy and fit wolf hybrid, broader and stronger than most of his own species. and of course, his family was quick to sell him off, glad to be rid of this curse on their family—the only shame.

toji had grown up knowing he was hated, but he never thought a family could do something so horrible to one of their own. he stopped seeing the best in people after that.

"you brought this on yourself," his uncle states now, emotionless. his opinion on hybrids has not changed one bit, and yet he shamelessly comes to the compound to collect a portion of the winnings that toji earns. "born with tainted blood."

"you're acting like it's my fucking fault, old man," toji spits out, hackles raised. he wants them to leave, because all he feels when looking at them is nausea.

"it's your damn mother's fault. couldn't keep away from my brother. she ruined him," naobito's emotionless voice takes on a tone of hatred, and toji tenses. "filthy dog whore."

toji's reaction is instantaneous. he's at the bars in a second, teeth bared and spewing curses as he makes a mad grab for either of them. he doesn't care—all he wants to do is tear them to shreds. toji can feel his wounds open further, can feel blood dripping over his skin, but all that seems miniscule when they are in front of him.

the cause of every single misfortune he has ever had.

naoya hops out of the way, laughing—it is a mocking, grating laugh that echoes throughout the hall as he watches toji desperately struggle. "see see! this is why you're dangerous!"

naobito shakes his head, as though he's thoroughly disappointed, but he does not say anything else.

"anyways, well done today!" naoya continues, grinning as he crosses his arms. "you earned a lot of money for us."

toji glares at him, dropping his arm and taking a step back. somehow, being further in his cell is much more comforting than being in their line of sight. he keeps his lips tightly shut.

naoya's voice turns taunting as naobito heads off without another word. "such a shame my dear cousin wasn't born normal like the rest of us." he follows his father without a care in the world, knowing how well his words sting. "had to be born an animal freak."

the hallways is empty. toji takes a few steadying breaths, pushing the anger away because he knows that there is truly no point in keeping it. it's not like this anger has done him any good. maybe if he had gotten angry earlier, he would have zenin blood on his hands—the thought gives him a sick sense of satisfaction.

"your family fucking sucks…" sukuna pipes up from across the hall. toji scoffs out a laugh, but it is far from amused. he turns away.

suddenly the blood on his hands makes him feel disgusting—so much more animalistic than human.

"tell me about it," he mutters, back turned. his ears pick up the sounds of sukuna curling up in his corner, and in a few minutes, quiet rumbling snores follow.

toji sighs, approaching his sink and staring at the cracked mirror he's grown used to seeing himself in. he takes in his reflection, disgust rolling in his stomach.

he thinks he'd probably be considered decently attractive if he was a regular old human. but the dark furry ears, the sharp canines, and all the scars ruin him. adding his haggard clothing and feral eyes and all the blood and dirt on him, he can understand why he is considered so untouchable.

an animal in every right.

he turns the sink on. he is briefly reminded of another time, a time where he lived in a family house and slept in a futon that was warmer than anything he's ever slept in. he can remember wearing things other than rags, occasionally a yukata and other times a t-shirt. he can remember eating a home cooked meal and drinking sake and feeling sunlight on his skin.

and yet even in those better times, he has always had to hear the words of his family cursing his existence. cursing his mother's name for seducing his father and ruining their bloodline with her animal blood.

the only dark stain on the pristine zenin family.

toji sighs, scrubbing the blood from under his claws—like clockwork. the water in the sink turns a mocking shade of pink, and as horrible as it is to say, toji is glad the blood is not his.

he wipes his paws across his ragged clothes, and stares at himself in the mirror.

he isn't ashamed to admit it—but he hates what he sees.

naoya's laughter rings in his ears as he shuts his eyes.

"hey toji?"

his eyes snap open. when the haze clears he sees your features come into focus, soft and curious. your scent floods his nose, and a pleasant shiver runs up his skin. there is a quick sense of relief when he realizes that he had been dreaming of a time in the past, and he steels himself, expression indifferent as he sits up. he briefly recognizes the stark contrast between the hardness of the stone floor in his cell and the softness of your couch—his tongue sits heavy in his mouth.

"what?" he grunts, rubbing at his eyes. he tries to throw you a mock irritated glance, but either it comes off too mild or you've become good at ignoring it. "when'd you get here?"

"a few minutes ago. i got takeout." your lips pull into a teasing smile. "unless you'd rather go back to sleep?"

he pins you with a scathing glare, and annoyingly enough, your smile becomes wider. he stands up, popping his joints and following you to your kitchen table, before diligently taking a seat—in his chair.

toji silently watches you bustle around, grabbing utensils and plates to evenly distribute the food. his stomach growls eagerly, and he realizes just how hungry he is—he recognizes that his body is getting used to being fed so often, and he does not know how to feel about that.

toji's eyes zero in on silly details, not knowing why he does it. your hair is a little messy, not as neat as when you left for work that morning. you've taken off your jacket, the absence of the restrictive fabric making your movements easier. he thinks you've probably had a good day, because your expression, though fatigued, is still relaxed—a small, almost miniscule smile remains on your face.

there a strange satisfaction the settles in his chest when he notices that. he doesn't know why, but the idea that you've had a nice day rather than a difficult one puts him at ease.

"how was your day?" you speak up, briefly making eye contact with him.

(toji does not understand why the small contact makes his stomach flip.)

he grunts, nonchalant. "not bad. didn't do much."

"the injuries are good?"

toji rolls his eyes, dropping his chin into his palm as he pins you with an intrusive stare. "yeah yeah. you ask this every day."

"well it can be good one day and not good the next," you reply defensively, frowning at the chicken you're currently dropping into his plate. but you look satisfied to hear his answer.

toji chuckles mutely. "sure kid."

(the nickname came randomly. you never commented on it. he didn't either.)

he hesitates for a second, before clearing his throat. "how was yours?"

you glance up at him, too quick for him to analyze the expression, but he thinks he catches a faint trace of pleasant surprise. "it was good. boring but not bad at all."

he nods awkwardly—the internal satisfaction grows stronger. his stomach rumbles again as you walk over and place his plate in front of him, and the smell hits his nose immediately—his hunger is all consuming.

(your scent is one of the few human scents he has truly found pleasant.)

and yet he finds himself patiently waiting until you plate your own food, sitting across him quietly. he presses his hands together, bowing his head as he mutters a quiet "thank you for the food" before tucking in.

(he does not say your name, but he thinks he is thanking you—his own twisted version of a god.)

he stays quiet for most of the meal, focusing on the unique and savory taste of the food. months ago he would not have imagined being able to consume such delicacy, but all you have done since you walked into his life is show him that he can have much more than he ever dreamed he could.

you blabber about random things as you eat, telling him about something you saw or what you did throughout the day. he listens.

you're in the middle of updating him about some stupid work drama, which, as embarrassing as it is to say, toji has been looking forward to hearing about. he does not interrupt you, trying to rack his brain for all the details you've spilled the last time.

(it's pathetic how quick he finds them. something about listening to you talk that makes everything else seem useless in comparison.)

"so anyways her husband found out and got mad. but then she basically tried to deny it and said that he was accusing her of nothing." you shove a mouthful of rice into your mouth, rolling your eyes. your tongue flicks out to lick at your lips—toji's eyes shamefully trace the movement. "it's a whole thing now because obviously the dude she was having the affair with works with us too."

"what a bitch," toji answers. your eyes crinkle with amusement, eager to hear him participating. you've probably since realized that he does find your gossip interesting. but it's more than that—he does not know why it's so easy to talk to you.

"right? i hate cheaters," you mutter, stabbing at your chicken.

he does too. something about being a dog that makes loyalty so damn important to him.

(maybe that's why he feels physically ill when he thinks about leaving your side.)

you continue rambling about your cheating coworker with a newfound conviction. toji listens, occasionally dropping a dry remark, and you either laugh or nod emphatically. his lips quirk upward at every reaction. he continues eating his food—slowly so that he can match your pace. which is odd, because he was so damn hungry before.

but even as he quietly chews on the flavored meat, he finds that satiety comes a lot quicker when he quietly listens to you talk.

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joemama-2 · 2 months ago

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this is not how you imagined your friday night would go.

you thought you’d be watching the stars by now after a nice dinner. maybe some compliments, maybe even a small kiss shared. or some held hands.

but no. because currently you’re seated on the expensive couch, eyes fixated on some random nature documentary because you don’t have the courage to face the six year old boy to your left and demand him to stop staring.

you like kids, but this one oddly makes you nervous, scared almost.

your date is in the bathroom taking way too long and you’re half tempted to up and leave. your posture is stiff, forcing yourself to find the screen interesting.

our of your peripheral, you can see the boy raise his spoonful of ice cream to his mouth, head tilting like you’re one of the animals being observed on the TV.

“are you the one he keeps talking about?”

confusion strikes you as you finally turn your head to face him. your titled head mirroring his own. “um…..i’m not sure.”

a part of you feels flattered by the sudden fact. is satoru really talking about you? but then an unsettling feeling takes place, one of hesitation and jealously. or is he talking about someone else?

“you have the black Cane Corso, right?”

ah, so it’s the former. you smile. “oh, yeah. that’s me.”

“what’s his name?” the little boy asks you, shifting his small body as the talk of dogs gains his attention by the second.

“sunny.”

his brows pinch together. “why sunny?”

“because he was a stray, i found him in a box on a very hot day.”

he hums and nods before asking yet another question. you forget how curious children can be. “is he nice?”

you chuckle. sunny has the stereotype of being aggressive due to his breed and size, but he’s anything but. he’s your gentle giant who gets scared of butterflies and plastic water bottles. “he’s really nice, he loves meeting new people and licking.”

you playfully stick your tongue out with a look of a faux grimace. this gets the small boy to crack a hint of a smile. it warms your heart almost instantly. “you like dogs?” you ask him, voice softening.

he nods automatically. “i really like dogs, i have two dogs. one is white and the other is black.”

“oh wow,” your eyebrows raise. “that’s so cool, are they big too?”

“mhm.” he nods.

you do a small look around. “where are they?”

he simply shrugs and answers, “they only come out sometimes.”

you want to ask what he means by that, but you figure satoru would best know. speaking of, he must be shitting a big one or he’s trying to calm his nerves inside that bathroom down the hall.

the little boy hesitates, like he wants to ask another question but isn’t sure if he should. you give him an encouraging nod and he sighs. “can you bring sunny next time?”

—————————————————————

“when you said you were fostering, i assumed a pet or something. not an actual child.” you tell Satoru as he’s walking you to your apartment door.

the two of you stop in front and he takes this time to grin. “do i not look like a boy dad?”

your eyebrow raises with an unamused expression. “no, first off, you look like a girl dad. and second off, does he consider you his dad?”

“nah, not at all. more like an older brother if anything. or maybe that annoying uncle everyone hates.” he reaches forward to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “did he like you?”

“i hope so.” your lips purse. “i wasn’t exactly ready to pitch myself as a good person tonight to some kid.”

satoru chuckles, thumb lingering on your cheek. “don’t need to pitch yourself, just be you and he’ll like you just as much as i do. well—actually—hopefully not as much. i’d hate to have competition.”

you can’t help but roll your eyes. “he did mention a next time, though. wants me to bring my dog.”

“you mean that oversized human on all fours?”

your hand collides with his shoulder. he laughs and intertwines your fingers with his. “kidding, kidding. don’t get violent, at least not now.”

leaning down, his lips kiss your forehead smoothly, they linger for a few seconds before he mutters against your skin. “his names megumi, i hope you’ll get along.”

your stomach flutters during this moment, relishing in the easy and comfortable intimacy. you nod and murmur back. “of course.”

he pulls back and smiles down at you. just as he’s about to speak another cheesy line, you beat him to it.

“so….you talk about me a lot?”

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satorusugurugurl · 5 months ago

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The Headboard

Summary: when you find yourself in a compromising position, you’re lucky that you’re a hot neighbor who just so happens to be a firefighter, is just next door.

Pairing: firefighter!Toji Fushigurux AFAB!Reader

Word Count: 2,935

Warning: Language, smut, p-in-v, mentions of sex toys, degradation, name calling, unprotected smut.

A/N: A genuine fear I had often thought about when people tell me this is what they do. Plus, the DILF vibes were strong today.

Fushiguro Toji had no complaints about having you as a neighbor. You’re kind and quiet; you even watched Megumi for him if he needed a sitter. You would invite him and his son to your apartment for dinner, or he would do the same for you. The whole of being neighbors became friendship, and friendship turned into longing. Toji hated it when you would bring home someone who wasn’t good enough for you. He would spoil you rotten but didn’t want to ruin your friendship.

Nothing would be worse than an interaction after an awkward one-night stand that ended with you both not talking to each other because he would be the first to admit that he liked having you over for dinner. He enjoyed it when you came over with cookies or watched a movie with him and his son. If things were to become awkward or standoffish with you, that might be one of the worst things to happen to them in a very long time.

So, he would wait a bit to see how things would progress with you. Maybe once the lingering glances and the accidental brushes of your hands would turn into a little bit more. Perhaps once he better understood you and how you might feel, consider telling you he wanted to be more than friends.

Those thoughts ran through his mind as he sprawled out on his couch, not paying any attention to the movie on the television. Megumi was at a sleepover with his best friend Yuuji. He was all alone, not being stuck at the firehouse on call, filling his quiet evening with boredom.

Maybe he should call and ask if you want to come over; you could both watch a movie to make the most of a boring night. Just as he reached for his phone to call you, your name and profile picture popped up on his phone. Toji answered the phone with a slight grin, holding it against his ear.

“Hey, I was just about to call you. Do you wanna come—”

“Toji, you’re a firefighter, right?”

Your voice sounded breathless, almost with a hint of timidness. “Yeah, you know that. Why did you start a grease fire next door? Do not try to put it out with water; smother it with some flour.” You laughed only to be cut off with a whine.

“Uhm, uh—no, not that.” you sighed, “Y-you've seen some weird stuff, right? Like helped people?”

“Yeah, despite the title firefighter, I’m also medically trained and have helped many people in different scenarios. Why, what happened?”

The silence for a long moment told you to think that maybe, just maybe, the line disconnected before he heard him wince. “I-I need your help. But you have to promise you’ll never tell a soul about this.” A mixture of different emotions currently course through every nerve of his body. He’s concerned that you’re hurt, and his interest is peaked as to what you got yourself into this time.

“Of course, you have my word. I promise I won't say anything.”

“Good,” cloth rustles in the background, “you can come over right now. You still have my spare key. You still have my spare key.”

“Yeah, you gave it to me to water your plants that always die.”

“I don't have a green thumb sue me! Now please grab your medical bag and get your ass over here!”

The tone of your voice had him getting off the couch in a snap.” Alright, be there in a sec.” without you even having to ask, Toji grabbed his medical bag and your spare key.

You're nowhere to be found when he steps inside your apartment. “Hey?” He calls out, smirking slightly. “Fire department.” A squeak resonates from the bedroom.

“In here!” you call out, voice shaky, “b-but before you come in, I will emphasize that if you tell anyone! And I mean anyone about this, I will rip your balls off and shove them down your throat!”

Toji almost tells you not to threaten him with a good time, but he knows you from the whine that leaves the room. You were obviously in pain, and we’re taking this very seriously. Instead of making lighthearted jokes and conversation to push your buttons, he put on the best professional face before entering your room. The second he looks at your bed, his jaw drops to the floor in shock.

You’re naked from the waist down, your body bent forward, your ass pressed against the headboard. Your knee must’ve gotten stuck between the headboard and your mattress from how you're bent. Making it impossible for you to move in the predicament you found yourself in. Your cheeks are flushed as you averted your gaze, not daring to look at him. Toji was a smart guy; he was able to put two and two together.

Someone was having some alone time, and things had taken a terrible turn.

“What happened?” Toji clears his throat as he trots forward, opens his medical bag, and slips on some black latex-free gloves.

You want to crawl under your bed and cry out in embarrassment. How could you have put yourself in such an embarrassing situation? It was bad enough that you had gotten yourself stuck, and it was ten times worse now that the man you’ve had a crush on since you moved into the building was here helping you! But you would rather him find out what a size queen you were than call the fire department.

“I uhm, the uh—” you motion back to your headboard where your thrusting toy was stuck to your headboard. “It hit—my cervix hard, and I jumped, and my knee slipped between my mattress and my headboard.”

“Huh—okay, just try to relax a bit. I will look into getting that knee out first.” He gets on the bed behind you before gently grabbing your knee. As he does, the movement causes you to slide further down the toy, causing it to hit your cervix for a second time. The sharp, pleasurable pain can be felt from the tips of your toes to your head as you let out a pained moan. “Sorry.” Toji’s voice sounds more profound and more fierce. That you had never heard before; it was a voice that made every nerve in your body slowly awaken with lust.

“I-It’s okay—”

He gently moves your leg again, freeing it slightly. “So,” he goes with the questions when you were sure he was going to ask, “your boyfriend busy or something?” His question held no humor to it; instead, it was pure curiosity, and his voice made the nerves that reignited tingle with anticipation.

“What boyfriend? Who said I had a boyfriend?”

Toji glances at the curve of your ass, admiring the arch of your back, before he goes back to gently moving your leg. “Oh, I just assumed a pretty thing like you had one.” His hand gently grumps your ass as he maneuvers your leg a little bit more to the left, freeing it another inch.

“Do you honestly think if I had a boyfriend, I would’ve stuck a dildo to my headboard?”

“Hey, to each their own. So, no boyfriend?”

“Yep, single and ready to mingle. I let my friend convince me to try this position. She said it would liven up my solo sessions.” For as long as you can remember, the only way you masturbated was on your back. When you had mentioned this to your friends, they had been mortified, telling you there was more than one way to get yourself off. You so stupidly let them talk you into buying this stupid, expensive dildo and decided to give it a shot. That shot ended up with your knee stuck between your mattress and the wall and having to rely on your neighbor to help you.

“Hm,” Toji gave your ass a firm squeeze before gently pushing you forward off the toy a couple of inches, drawing out the sweetest sounds from your throat. “Would now be an inappropriate time to ask you out?”

A choked sound of shock cut off the moan that had begun to rise in your throat. There was no way he had just asked you out on a date—your hot neighbor. The sexy firefighter next door asked you on a date. Was this a prank? Oh god, why did he have to ask you out now, of all times? Despite the searing embarrassment, you can’t help but giggle, turning to look back at the massive man.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, I think you’re hot and good with my kid; plus, I can make you feel so much better than this stupid toy.”

Heat began to pool in your abdomen as you continued to watch him carefully. “Oh, is that so?” he pulls his hand away from the fat of your ass, only to bring it back down, slapping it, making you help in pleasure and surprise.

“It's a fucking promise.” The tip of his pink tongue runs over the scar on his lip. “So, dinner?”

You laugh breathlessly, throwing your head back as he massages the sting out of your ass. “Would you be opposed to me counteroffering that?” Toji hand on your leg gently moves another inch, freeing you from the abyss you had been stuck in.

“Well, that depends on what your counteroffer is?”

The muscles in your leg burn with relief as you stretch it out, getting the blood flowing to it. Toji watches with dark eyes as you slowly in yourself off of the 9-inch toy that’s coated in your slick arousal. The sight of the coral-colored silicone covered in your wetness has his throat so dry it hurts.

“My counteroffer is that we skip the first date, and you help me with my current problem. You are a firefighter. It’s your job to help people.”

“Oooh, are you asking me to fuck you right now?”

“Maybe~ if I were to ask you to do just that, what would you say?” When you turn your head to look at him, your face is quickly snatched in his hands. His hand grips your chin tightly towards his mouth.

“I would say it’s about fucking time.”

His lips slam against yours in a symphony of desperation and need. He quickly shifts behind you, pushing you towards the center of the bed and away from the cavern you had found yourself trapped in moments before. The entire time he moves you, his lips never leave yours. It’s a messy open-mouth kiss, with tongue and groping hands as he releases his grip on your face, panting heavily as a string of saliva connects your lips.

“Do you know how hard it’s been trying to control myself? I try so hard to be a good, friendly neighbor. One that doesn’t come off as a creep.” he positions himself behind you down his gray sweatpants, spraying his thick fat cock. “Let me tell you, it’s been fucking hard; you are so goddamn fucking beautiful. Smart, funny, a great cook.”

You grip the sheets underneath you as he continues his confession. He told you how much he admired your strength and beauty. The pure admiration and raw need that’s in his voice makes your pussy clench, your arousal seeping out of your twitching hole. God, you knew you liked him, but knowing he was so damn bad for you, made you want him even more.

“I need you to fuck me.” There’s no doubt in your words that's precisely what you wanted. The word ‘want’ isn’t even included in your sentence! You didn't like this, and you needed it on a physical level.

“Yeah~? Need me to fuck that tight slutty hole?” His hands connect with your ass again, so smacking it hard, leaving a faint hand print in its wake. “Is that what you need, baby~?”

“Yes!” you shake your ass in front of him, dropping down low, revealing your wet hole to him as if trying to convince him to hurry the fuck up.

“Mhmm, that's a good little slut; tell me exactly what she wants; no, wait, I’m sorry, what she needs.” he grabs his thick cock in one hand. Toji held his cock, smacking it over your pussy. “And she claims that she needs my cock.”

You rock your hips back, fingers digging into the sheets as your chest heaves in anticipation of being filled to the brim by human flesh and not cold silicon. “Yes, please.” Toji tsks behind you giving your pussy, another sharp slap with his cock, the tip snagging at your entrance before he rubs it over your clit.

“Nah, I think you could do better than that. Try again to tell me what it is that you want.”

“I need you!” you cry out loud this time, shutting your eyes and anticipation of him thrusting inside of you, just feeling the head of his cock snag over your clit for the second time. “Please, Toji! Please, please, please.”

Grabbing the base of his thick, heavy cock, he gently presses it over your entrance over your slick hole. “Please, what baby girl~? Use your words, big like pretty little slut you are.” this was an absolute tort. Having your kit in your pussy, teased with nothing but finger-like touches, have you jerking and writhing against the bed.

“Please fuck me, Toji!” you screamed, not having to worry about your next-door neighbor complaining about the noise.

“That's a good girl.” Toji slapped your ass with a snarl, gripping the skin and spreading your cheeks. “I always knew you were a good girl. Always so sweet and friendly, the perfect innocent neighbor next door. but who would’ve thought that you would be fucking a toy against your headboard.” He spits his words before suddenly burying his cock fully into you.

You screamed out loud as his cocked stretched you like you'd never been stretched red d before, sending your eyes rolling back. "Nnngh~! Mmph~ Toji!"

“Fuck-Ngh.” Toji moaned, feeling your walls convulse around him. "You feel so good, baby. Fuck—baby, baby! Shit—being inside of you was so worth the wait!”

“Oooh fuck~!” Toji’s hands press into the middle of your back, pushing your shoulders down further into the mattress, allowing your back to be pushed down, beautifully showing the curves of your body for him. “Just like that, Toji, fuck, don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

“Oh, I’m not stopping until you’re crying. Your in need a good dicking down since you weren’t able to finish, I’m assuming.”

“Y-Yes!” You cry out, gripping the sheets tighter as you rock your hips back into his. “Yes, I want to cum so bad~!”

“Oh, I know you do, baby,” Toji smirked as he pushed you by your shoulders down into the bed, thrusting deep and hard.

His cock continues to hit your g-spot and your cervix, but his warm hot tip is nothing compared to the silicone. You had been using it earlier. So your eyes roll back. "Oh fuck! ~!" At this rate, you weren't going to last very long.

“Hoooly fuck.” Toji moaned, feeling your walls flutter around him as your legs started to tremble. "Fuck-Ngh. You’re about to cum. Fuck—baby, baby! Shit--I’m going to fucking fill you up. Is that okay?” he didn’t give you much time to answer as he angled his hips, thrusting precisely against that sponge spot inside of you. The one that had you seeing stars as your orgasm hit you like a freight train.

You whimpered loudly, turning to desperately kiss Toji as you squirted all over cock. "Ah~! Nnngh!!" your eyes rolled back as your body convulsed with the waves of your orgasm.

"Fuck! Fuckfuck—M’ cumming, I—Ahhh ahah—nngh!" Toji doubled over, his forehead pressing into your back as he kept cumming, releasing the months of pent-up desire into you.

He collapsed on top of you quickly, putting his arms out on either side of your smaller frame, bracing his weight upon them in an attempt not to crush you. You painted happily, grinning as you turned your head to stare up at the flushed, sweat-coated man who had fucked you thoroughly. He smirked, his scar stretching as his lips curled up.

His smirk, however, is short-lived as you push back against him, causing him to slip out of you as his back lands against your mattress. As he blankly waters, it allows you to straddle his hips, dribble, drop combined cum, and rub all over his dick as you so lewdly rub your pussy up and down on him. “I hope you have more where that came from because I’m far from being done with you, sir.”

“Hey,” he smirked, putting both his hands behind his head as he watched your position, his cock at your entrance. “Im a firefighter have pretty good fucking stamina. Let’s see what you got.” Little did he know you were a fire that could not so easily be put out. Not that he was complaining.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3

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the-froschamethyst4 · 6 months ago

Text

Big Dick Energy

𖤐Pairing: Mafia! Alejandro x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: smut, language, eating out, P in V, fingering, blowjob, smoking, drinking, flirting, tatted up Alejandro, married couple, mention of nudity, drunk love, dirty nickname (slut),

𖤐Summary: Alejandro was cruel and he just gives off big dick energy, I mean you should know, you’re his wife, so how big is it?

————

Alejandro sat on a velvet red couch watching people dance around in his club. He hated these people, they came, they go, what can you do, but he hates the people that only use him.

He swirls his glass around and looks at the man talking to him from the corner of his eye, he hated this guy. He always got on Alejandro's nerves, every little thing.

"God don't you ever shut up?" Alejandro mumbled to himself, the guy wouldn't have heard Alejandro, the music was too loud.

"I mean come on, I should have won my bet, but of course that stupid card had to take it all away," all Alejandro knew this guy was talking about poker.

He couldn't give two flying shits about poker, Alejandro is running an empire here, he makes money all on his own and along with hiring some people, he doesn't need to waste his time on stupid betting games.

He already owns a club that makes millions when he's here or not. He looks on the dancefloor to see someone, his wife. She liked to join Alejandro when he comes to the club for business. Tonight was like any other night, he did his job and she danced and had fun.

Everyone knew not to mess her because if they did, Alejandro would have their head and heart on a silver plater.

Her body glide across the dancefloor as she had fun, Alejandro kept a close eye on her. Y/n made eye contact with her husband slowly moving off the dancefloor and walking towards him, her hips moving from side to side.

She moves closer to him and sat on his lap, he just looked up at her his hand moving to her bare thigh.

"Can you go?" He asks the guy next to him.

"Me? I-I guess," the guy left and Alejandro looked at Y/n giving her a smile, his left hand going to her cheek cupping it and kissing her jaw.

"You look so beautiful," he says kissing her jaw some more.

"I know you told me before we left the house," she giggles.

"Y/n..." she looks down at him.

"Yes?"

"We should head home...I'm tired here, bored here, let's go home," he says. She got off his lap and he grabbed her hand pushing through the crowd and heading to the front doors, pulling them open and a black McLaren pulled up, the valet got out of the car and gave Alejandro his keys.

He opens the door for Y/n and she gets in. He drove them home, his hand rested on her thigh and the other gripping the stirring wheel. Y/n played with his big fingers as she looks out of the window watching the buildings pass by.

"Did you have fun?" His voice broke the silence.

"Yeah, I did, I didn't get a chance to drink though."

"I'll make you something at home," he says.

"Good," she smiles at him.

--------

Once home Alejandro helped Y/n out of his car and they headed inside the mansion. Alejandro twirled Y/n around her heels in his hand and a big smile on his face.

Alejandro always kept his heart close to the world and never thought he will EVER find love, he deemed it as impossible for himself to ever find love or fall in love.

Once he met Y/n his heart was open and he fell in love, he married her a year after they started dating and the wedding happened within a week, Alejandro wanted everything perfect for her and once married, Alejandro and Y/n wanted their time together before the thought of children ever come into their lives.

Y/n plops on the couch kicking her feet onto the coffee table and Alejandro went to the bar pouring her a mixed drink. She fluffs up her hair and then took the drink from her husband.

"Thank you, love."

"Anything for you, mi amor (my love)," he kisses her lips, holding her chin and started to briefly make out.

"Alejandro, please..." she says as his lips attacked her neck. She brings the glass to her lips taking a sip of the drink.

Alejandro then stops and starts pulling at his tie and unbuttoning his shirt completely showing off his toned body. She smiles at him, placing her drink down on the coffee table and she starts moving to his pants.

Unbuckling his pants and unbuttoning his pants as well. She gets a full view of his bulge in her face. She licks her lips as she looks up at him, gently kissing his bulge and slowly moving her hand up to his boxers next, but he holds her wrist from stopping her from going any further which made her groan.

"Come on, baby," she says, looking up at him.

"You'll have your fun in a little bit," he says, kissing her lips. "First off, I'm fucking hungry, you want anything?" he asks, before walking to the kitchen.

"I want you," she pleads.

"No, food," he says as he opens the fridge.

"Fine," she groans rolling off the couch and grabbing her drinks and she walks to the kitchen. "I want spaghetti," she says.

"Alrighty then," he says, grabbing noodles, two pots and some sauce.

"Can I help with anything?" She asks.

"Just sit there and look pretty, I got this," he says, cupping her face and kissing her lips again.

And she did just that, sitting on the marble counter, her short dress riding up to her thighs exposing a bit of her lacy underwear, she crosses her ankles leaning forward as her hands were planted on the counter.

"Can I try the sauce?" Alejandro usually made it homemade.

"Sure, mi amor," he dips the spoon in and brings it to her mouth.

"Good, very good, like usual," she says, kissing his lips.

"I'm glad, I didn't do anything different but I get worried that I may have missed an ingredient or something."

"It probably would still be good anyways," she smiles getting off the counter and hugging his waist.

After a while Alejandro and Y/n were eating dinner at their dinner table, Alejandro was drinking whiskey as Y/n was drinking wine like usual. Alejandro just stares at Y/n as she eats.

"Do I have something on my face?" She asked, taking the napkin and going around her mouth, all she got off was some lipstick.

"Nah, nothing, you're just so...sexy."

"You're a flirt."

"I'm your flirt," he smirks, leaning on his palm and still staring at her.

Alejandro then smirks before sliding down his chair and he's never done this before but crawled to Y/n's legs that were crossed, when he gets to her knees, his rough and calloused hands touching her made her jump.

"A-Ale-" she was soon cut off by his tongue licking a stripe up her wet panties. She tossed her head back and her fingers started to go through his soft hair.

"F-Fuck," she moans as he hooks his fingers around the helm of her panties and pulled hem down taking them off and licking between her wet folds now.

Her legs wanted to close so badly but his hands were holding her thighs open, she whines and grips his soft hair. Her right hand went to his hand holding open her legs. His large tatted hand made her look so small.

Alejandro then looks up at her through his long sweaty hair, she moans and leans her back, Alejandro then proceeds to move his mouth causing her to groan.

Alejandro smirks licking his fingers and then sticking them inside of her and his mouth went back around her lower half licking at her bud, and moving his fingers quickly in and out of Y/n.

She could feel herself about to cum soon, Alejandro smirks moving his mouth again and this time just his fingers.

"Come on, mi amor, come on," he groans moving his fingers faster in and out of her, she was a moaning mess. She ended up coming on his fingers, he smirks before licking her clean and then picking her up.

Taking her up to their shared bedroom, placing her on the bed, he lifts up the bottom of her dress and takes it off her completely. He smirks seeing her breasts on full display for him, she smiles and her face is a little heated up from embarrassment.

"Don't feel embarrass, amor, we've done it before."

"I know," she says, running her hands down her thighs feeling how smooth and soft they were. Alejandro started to unbutton the rest of his shirt and she helps him unbuckle his pants.

He looks down at her when his dick sprung out of his pants. Y/n licks her lips and then kisses his tip, he tosses his head back, hand going behind her head. Her mouth now around him, in a way of repaying him.

He smirks knowing how good his wife is. She looks up at him, she sits on her knees, hands on his thighs and her nose sometimes touching his lower stomach, he moans.

"God, you're s-so good at this," he says, licking the corner of his mouth and smirking down at her. Alejandro knows he's big, and thick, and he also knows Y/n can take him like it's nothing.

He doesn't want to say he 'trained' her to take his cock, but he did. She's gotten so use to him that taking him was no problem whatsoever.

"God, you are such a slut, taking me so well," his hand cupped under her chin as she continued to suck him off. She moved her mouth and starts pumping him quickly. She opens her mouth as cum squirts from his tip into her mouth.

"Fuck, mi amor," he says.

He lays in the middle of the bed, legs semi spread, arms resting on the headboard of the bed, Y/n looking at him between his legs. Before anything else starts, Alejandro leaned over into his nightstand drawer and pulled out a cigarette lighting it and then looking back at Y/n.

"Come on, amor, one more," he says, she crawls on top of him. Taking his dick and aligning it at her entrance. She slowly sinks herself onto his dick, slowly bouncing at first.

Her hands resting on his shoulders, his cigarette going between his lips and his hands holding her waist helping her pick up the pace just a bit.

Her moans tossing her head back her body had collapsed on his chest, he smirks and then sits back up looking at him now.

"Am I-I going to fast?"

"Amor, go as fast or slow as you need," he says, moving the cigarette from his lips tapping the burnt end into his little ash tray next to the bed and proceeding to kiss her neck.

Y/n didn't mind the smoking, she lowkey thought it was hot, and sexy, he didn't do it all the time which also made Y/n not mind it.

She starts to move fast, Alejandro smirking when hearing her moans come from her lips. He leans forward taking her lips into his, it became a heated make out session now.

Alejandro cupping her face, and kissing her lips. His rough hands held her waist and his tongue soon passed her lips. Y/n moved her mouth to be able to breath now, his lips attacked her neck. His hands cupping her breasts.

Y/n looks down at the cigarette and taking it from his fingers and putting it in her mouth, Alejandro knew she didn't smoke and it caught him by surprise when she took it and blew out smoke with no issue.

"Amor?"

"You have shitty taste in cigarettes," she said through a slightly disgusted look.

"But I have good taste in women," he says, laying Y/n on her back taking back is cigarette putting it back between his lips and starts picking up the pace. Her arms go around his neck, and he leans down taking her left nipple into his mouth suckling on her and flicking her bud with his tongue.

"G-God, I'm g-going to cum," she moans.

"Do it, amor, I can feel you squeeze around me," he says, putting his head back.

She let's out another moan before she felt herself coming, Alejandro sits up placing his hand on her lower stomach feeling his dick bulge in her. He then ends up coming inside of her.

----------

Alejandro was against the headboard and holding Y/n against his body. He put his cigarette out and rubbed Y/n's waist.

"Are you okay?" He asks.

"Yes," she says back, bring up the blanket over her shoulders.

Her naked body, was so warm while his was burning hot. Alejandro looks down at Y/n rubbing her soft body with his rough hands, she looks up at him.

"What?"

"Nothing...I just want to hold you for a little bit," he says, before kissing the top of her head.

Y/n smiles up at him.

"I love you."

"I love you too, mi amor."

#cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #fandom #fanfic #call of duty #mw2 #cod #alejandro vargas x female reader #alejandro mw2 #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro x reader #alejandro cod #alejandro vargas

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angelisverba · 2 years ago

Text

kryptonite

in which y/n smokes weed (sometimes) and she thinks her dealer is super cute, and harry always gives her a little extra because she’s sweet

word count: 8.2k

pairing: plug!h and y/n

warning: if you are uncomfortable with the use of drugs, please do not continue reading!! i DO NOT want to see any messages in my inbox that talk of ‘glamourizing’ this drug. if you don’t like it-> don’t read it. mentions of bullying, peer pressure,

author’s notes: the second and final part to this fic will be posted next week, feb. 02 at 8am pst.

* * * * * * *

Harry hated parties.

Admittedly, they were a third of his source of income, but unless it wasn’t a gathering exclusively composed of his close circle, he didn’t want anything to do with it. They were too loud and sticky, messy and smelly. Red solo-cups littered at every available corner, half filled with Coca-cola, vodka, and the occasional sad, cigarette butt. Scantily clad girls and ‘discreet’ boys that didn’t know how to read body language that clearly screamed ‘I’M NOT INTERESTED!’. It just all got his nerves because half the time he knew they were only using him to get reduced prices on the marijuana he spent ample time on growing.

He tried, as a general rule, to limit his reluctant, brooding attendance to parties he knew would only consist of Mitch, Sarah, Adam, and the handful of other friends that just wanted to have a good time and a nice snuggle on a cramped couch that rumbled with intoxicated laughter. He liked being in a crowd he knew, it was much more intimate, less pressure-filled. He didn’t have to maintain that ‘polite’ air that was socially required in an atmosphere of people he didn’t know. No niceties or complimentary. When it was just him and his friends, all of that ‘quiet’ and ‘please, thank you’ shit wasn’t necessary. He could jump straight to his affectionate, giggly, sprawling-all-over-everyone’s-lap self, and no one would question it because they know it’s what he preferred.

But, at a big house party like the one where he was at, where everyone knew him as The One Guy Who Sells The Good Shit, Harry had to pretend to be polite and quiet and small, and adopt an overall stiff persona that made him prickly and cold. This wasn’t him. He didn’t like this, and wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for his very convincing friend Mitch, who noticed that business was slow and assured him that he was bound to 1) ‘sell a shit-ton’ and 2) gather a handful of new clients once they realized that what he had to dispense was pretty good quality for a subjectively cheap price.

Mitch had been right, of course.

The small black backpack of goodies that Harry had brought to this inconspicuous function had been empty in less than two hours, and he’d repeated his number enough times that it started to feel forgein on his tongue. Once or twice, a few girls had flashed him what could be called ‘bedroom eyes’, but he wasn’t in the mood to get his rocks off. When he came with a purpose to sell, any need, want, or hope for sex flew out of the window because then he ran the risk of girls thinking their ‘connection’ entitled them to some sort of discount on weed, and he didn’t particularly fancy ruining his post-coitous bliss with the awkward exchange of rejection that followed their questions.

Plus, it made him feel used.

A good three hours have passed, and he’s about to tell Mitch he’s ready to leave when his line of sight is snagged on the diamond image- no, a beautifully deceiving mirage, because there’s no way this girl is real. Not when she looks like a ditzy sprite, a walking mermaid, a glimmering fairy, a heart-wrenching siren, and any other bewitching, ethereal creatures that stole men’s souls upon the first breath they took in their presence. She looked like one of his psychedelic hallucinations that whispered sweet things to him and played with the ends of his hair when he’s in the lull of shrooms, brought to life. Grounded, real, and three-dimensional, not just in the airy, green-leafed recesses of his muddled mind.

This pretty little enchantment that caught his eye had floated into the room on two clumsy, shoddy-sneaker covered feet that extended from bambi-like legs with knees that were almost comically knocking against one another. She walked slanted, her shoulder pressed against her friend’s, whom Harry might have been able to recognize as Sarah if he spared his gaze, but that was impossible. So, he thought to himself, this is how magnets work? Even if he wanted to, he knew he wouldn’t be able to dislocate his line of sight from the socket it had carved itself into. Her cheeks, rounded with laughter and smiles, were dusted with the telling, glimmering sheen created by alcohol, and her eyes were bright, shiny, and starry from the handful of lamps that lit the living room. The slope of her waist, semi-shrouded deliciously from the billowy fabric of her powder blue summer dress (he couldn’t fucking believe she was wearing a dress when it was windy outside. Did she not care for her health?) and it made him think of the marvelous illusions created from marble. He was fond of going to museums and staring- for hours, at times- at statues of women draped in silk that were replicated with such precision, it was almost as if the wind was right there, rippling against the tantalizing figure of the unidentified female, so much so that an man was inspired to share his tortured vision. In solid form, nonetheless.

It made him wonder what the artist could see in real life. What they envisioned the model to be like underneath the heavenly fibers that twisted and turned restlessly with running air, preventing a clear grasp on the body underneath. Spurred to the point of such desolation, left with a hunger to resurrect what their mind’s eye consumed in physical format to live on forever and torment anyone else who looked.

He understood then. Understood that hunger and want for more.

She spun prettily like one of those ceramic ballerinas in a golden music box owned by children of important people, and that damn dress was both too loose and too free, moving around her with a protective fluidity from hungry, lovelorn wolves like him. He can’t hear her clearly because he’s too far away, but the snippets of her laugh that his ears manage to funnel down to his eardrums sound like a fairy’s tinkle.

She is a dream. Head thrown back before she replies with such enthusiasm and a strange half-lucidity that it has him leaning in to try and hear the drunken words that escape her soundless lips. He’s stuck in a moment of frozen time with her and only her. There’s a pinch behind his sternum when her head moves in his direction, and a strong titanic-worthy sink when she stops before even reaching his gaze. The words of some pop song from the early 2000’s skim cheesily through the background of his brain like a lonesome draft. Where have you been all my life?

Tunnel vision, he believes it might be called.

Next to him, Mitch bumps his shoulder, shattering his dangerously sharp focus with mumbled words that Harry doesn’t quite register with complete comprehension because they sound warped, as if they were spoken through a thick layer of glass or from underwater.

“What?” He blinks, his eyes stuck on her but his head rotated enough to the side that his friend knows he’s listening. He’s afraid that if he stops looking, or even blinks, she'll evaporate into thin air and he’ll spend the rest of his life wondering if she really was a mythical being conjured from his second-hand high.

Mitch clears his throat and hides a knowing twitch of his mouth beneath the rim of his drink, “I said her name is y/n.”

Harry, distracted and oblivious, is unaware that Mitch caught on to the focus of his attention, asks, “Who?”

This time, he can’t help but huff a chuckle, “This girl, H. Her name is y/n. She just started working with Sarah. Sarah says she keeps to herself, but there’s been a bit of… bullying, so she invited her out for a good time.”

“Bullying?” A faucet of anger opens in his major arteries and replaces his blood with a river of internalized rage. Bullying? Bullying her? His head whips around with enough speed to crack the vertebrae in his neck, and his thick brows furrowed with a fierce expression that would scare anyone that looked at him then (Mitch being exempt because he knew there would be no harm coming from that look). “What do y’mean bullying?” He spits the word out like it tastes foul.

Mitch takes another sip from the red solo cup, taking time to compose his face before continuing casually, “yeah. Y/n’s new, sweet, and quiet. Sarah says the others at work think that she’s their personal coffee runner or something. She tries to help her when she can, but she's not always around ‘cause of meetings or whatever.”

Harry sucks on his teeth and shakes his head, twisting again to observe y/n with mooney eyes, bitterness still simmering within him at the treatment she receives at her workplace. Especially when the smile he was so fortunate to witness made him taste caramel and honey and peach nectar and all of the sweet treats that traversed through his esophagus when the munchies hit. It warmed him to finally have a lovely name to attach to a lovely name.

Y/n. It settled nicely in his inner monologue, and he wanted to speak it. Test it on his tongue to see if it molded his lips as nicely as he imagined it would. It fit her, he thought. Y/n. Weirdly, Harry itched to throw it casually in a conversation with her. An exclamation. A wheezed whisper in the middle of a breathless laugh. In a greeting. In a goodbye. To grab her attention. To console. It was ridiculous! He didn’t even know her but he wanted, badly, for this party to transform into one of the more comfortable ones he had with his friends. For her to sit next to him on the couch his arm around the space behind her as she leaned into him unconsciously as the conversation continued. To grab her bicep in a nervous giggle when he stumbled after one too many. To share a bowl of chips with her (lime was his favorite, but he would eat barbecue flavored ones- his least favorite- if they were hers).

“Whose-”a burp, “motorcycle is blocking the driveway?!”

A clearly drunk male slurred from the front of the house, an arm raised as he swayed in a half-assed attempt to grab everyone’s attention, the drink in his hand sloshing onto the carpet and Harry winced, half from being startled and half from the suddenly stiffness that came with several pairs of eyes landing his way.

“Sorry, mate. That would be me.” He raised a finger in the air and bent at the waist to deposit his unfinished drink on a low black coffee table by his knees. He shrugged, rolling his lips into his mouth and turning to Mitch with his shoulders lifting with the beginnings of a hug, “‘was just gonna leave, anyway.”

“Early night, H?” Mitch mumbled, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek while embracing his friend, the ghost of a laugh lingering in his nasal passage. Harry’s cheeks turned a light pink and his nostrils flared in his attempt to hide his smile.

“Yup.” Harry returned the kiss, his nose digging onto the scruff of Mitch’s cheek, tickling him. Stepping back from their show of affection, he patted his palms against his thigh to make sure he had his phone and keys, and tugged the strap of the small backpack on his shoulder to verify it’s presence.

Mitch resumed his leaning position against the door frame, hand in his pocket, “alright. Text me when you get home.”

“‘Course.” Sparing one last glance in the charming sprite’s direction as he said his final goodbye, he was devastated to find that she had, in fact, disappeared, just as he’d feared.

He almost stayed to find her and watch over y/n like some sort of guardian angel, but he didn’t have the guts to go up to her. He hadn’t even finished one drink, so liquid courage wasn’t there to help him, not when he had to ride his motorcycle home. He almost asked Mitch to keep an eye on her for him, but it wasn’t necessary. Sarah was with her, and therefore he’s already watching her.

And from the comforting, yet teasing, twinkle in his friend’s eyes told Harry everything he needed to know. He knew that he was well on his way to cracking his head open over his heels.

Their friendship had always been one of little words.

******

Harry’s been delivering weed for a while now.

What started as a side hustle to obtain much needed income when times were tough developed into an interesting near full-time job with amazing results and benefits (he got to smoke weed for free now, since he grew it himself, but there was always that whole ‘don’t get high off your own supply’ rule, so he did limit himself). He had thought that he would have trouble attaining customers, but word spread like wildfire amongst his close circle of friends, which all happened to be free spirited individuals that harnessed the powers of nature, and then their friends, trusted friends, and so on and so forth.

It got to a point where he needed a separate phone for dealing alone because the ‘rush hour’ would meddle with his personal texts, leading to frequent ‘wrong person’ texts, and he traded his crappy car for a decent motorcycle so he could get to drop-off locations quicker. The added ‘badass’ effect also stroked his ego, so it was a wonderful bonus.

But the annoyance of being interrupted in the middle of something like, let’s say… an episode of Hannibal with a warm bowl of buttered popcorn in his lap always came in the same frustrating amounts.

Like now.

The Netflix screen pauses on Mads Mikkelsen’s face, spouting some bullshit about a tea cup, when his phone dings with a new notification. The sound is a specifically selected ‘ding!’ that is different from his personal phone so it’s easier to differentiate the purpose of the incoming message, and a rumbling groan vibrates from the back of his throat. Throwing his head back against his beat up, brown leather couch, Harry slams his hand around him until his ringed fingers click against the sleek device, and it automatically lights up as he brings it up to his face.

Unknown Number: Hi! Mitch gave me this number and said I’d be able to buy some pre-rolls?

Fucking Mitch. He often passes the number off to his buddies at the record store he works at. The dude started typing again, and the grey bubble with three dots wiggles at the bottom corner of the new text chat. Harry waited.

Unknown Number: If it’s too late for you, I understand.

It was, in fact, too late for him. But, money was money. He technically wasn’t doing anything important, so he would go and deliver to this-

Unknown Number: My name is y/n, by the way :D

Not a dude.

Fuck.

Not a dude.

The popcorn went flying off his chest and spilled all over the floor as he jumped up from his seat. Fuck. Y/n? Y/n with a smiley face. The girl from the party? His heart came to a stuttering stop, screeching like tired on asphalt breaking at a high speed as he came to the realization. The girl has haunted him like a stubborn will ‘o wisp for the past week was texting him. Albeit, it is for a service, but it was still something. The marijuana aspect of his situation didn’t bother him. He sold and consumed, it would be hypocritical of him if it did. Besides, she was an adult. She could do what she liked.

His jaw is on the floor, his eyes popping out of his head and he can’t believe what’s happening to him at that moment. He’d kiss Mitch on the mouth next time he saw him. It’s not until he sees the grey bubbles appear and disappear quickly again that he remembers the normal, usual response to this kind of situation is to type back. With trembling fingers, he pressed on keys, tapped on the backspace button, and repeated those motions several times because he had no idea what he was supposed to say- no, what was right to say to her. He had a standard response when it came to people who wanted to buy from him, but sending her prewritten message in his notes app that consisted of a short, perfunctory greeting followed by a menu-structured list of what he had available that day and their prices. There was no way in hell he’d send that to her.

Harry: Hello! It’s not too late for me to deliver. What can I help you with?

Unknown Number: Mitch mentioned that you offered a 2 for $35 deal?

Unknown Number: Is that still available?

Harry did offer a two-joint for thirty five bucks deal. Pre-rolled joints in cherry rolling paper about as long as his middle finger to the halfway point of his palm, semi-thickly packed with a hybrid blend of the two Mary-Jane plants (Sativa and Indica, none of that Maui Wowie, Blue Dream, or other strains; he liked to keep it simple) he had in a specially insulated box in the garage attached to the house he rented. It was his most popular sell; decent amount, excellent high, excellent trip. But… two? Was she smoking with someone else? Or was she saving one for a later time? He didn’t think she was the type to smoke two at once, but then again he didn’t know her, so her reasons were unclear to him.

However, if he arrived at her location and she was with someone (a male, specifically) his night would be ruined, because then that would mean that any marginal chance that he had with her was out of the question. And he couldn’t ask her right away because they hadn’t even properly met yet, and that would be weird and rude. That didn’t help his overthinking tendencies, and in a matter of seconds, Harry was sitting at the edge of his couch, popcorn crunching underneath his butt as a frown settled on his handsome features. Jaw set, lips puckered in contemplation with a pinch between his drawn eyebrows that casted shadows over his emerald eyes. He looked menacing, and his smattering collection of tattoos didn’t help either.

Or his motorcycle.

Or the intimidating stigma that came with his title of ‘plug’.

Stubborn as he was, this look of ‘don’t fucking talk to me’ would stay with him for the rest of the night, all because he couldn’t restrain himself from coming to incorrect conclusions. He didn’t know if y/n had a boyfriend, if she was with a friend, or if she would even be interest in him, but the sour thoughts that she did have a boyfriend and wouldn’t be interested in a ‘lowlife’ drug dealer loomed over him like a murky, stormy, thundering clouds.

He sent his response and changed her contact name.

Harry: I do!

Harry: Did you want to see the rest of the menu or are you set?

He knew he was being short with her. His messages were missing their customary smiley faces, the extra exclamation marks, the occasional x’s and o’s. He didn’t even type with capitalized letters, but in order to refrain from diving even further into this hole of hope, he decided that the change in his style of grammar would help him become emotionally distant. He just couldn’t bring himself to add them while he was in a stubborn, self-induced slump. While he looked angry, glittery butterflies beat their cellophane wings inside his ribcage and shook magical glitter onto his intestines, making them warm and queasy.

Y/n: I think that’ll be all for tonight

The causal mention of ‘for tonight’ gives him hope. That implied there would be other nights, and even though he’s currently grumpy because relationships are fucking complicated, he wanted to see her again and again.

Harry: Send your address, please.

She sends her location.

Harry: I’ll be there in 15 minutes.

Since he’s already half dressed in black jeans and a white Fruit of the Loom t-shirt from his earlier afternoon deliveries, he only has to part the crystal bead curtain in the doorframe of his living room to grab the leather jacket hanging from a bright yellow coat rack besides his door, and the backpack that he left in a slump besides his shoes (already packed with goods). He doesn’t think twice about the popcorn that’s scattered all over his floor and couch or that the Netflix “are you still there?” screen blinks black when he picks up his keys from the hook next to his door.

The garage opened when he pressed the button inside the kitchen hall, and he stepped out through the side door leading to the space where he kept his motorcycle. The owners before him had left a shit-load of junk that had taken up most of the space, and with their permission, he sold and threw most of it away. For the most part, it was empty. A bench, some boxes, and the white-refrigerator like rectangular box underneath the worktable along with his ride were the only things in there.

Grumbling and pouting like a petulant child, Harry clipped on his black helmet, flipped the visor down with two slender fingers, and dropped the backpack into the compartment attached to the backseat. A button on his keys closed the garage door behind him as he kicked aside the stand and swerved with a screech onto the road, the night air wrapping around bare throat as he cut through at a higher velocity than was surely legal on a residential street, but he didn’t see it as a crime when the heart was involved. He could picture himself explaining to the officer that pulled hi over in a hypothetical situation, that he was on his way to deliver drugs to the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, and the officer nodding solemnly at his noble cause.

Totally realistic.

Cars honked when he cut them off abruptly, and he gathered stares from the handful of people that were still wandering along the streets, spilling out at random intervals from bars. He had to cut through bits of the city to get to where she lived, and the three red lights that stalled his perusal were lucky that they were government property or else he would have damaged them in a severe fit of impatient rage. He tapped the tips of his shit-colored vans against the road and clenched his ringed fingers around the handlebars, engine roaring with pending release. He should have grabbed leather gloves, he thinks, if not to impress her, then at least to keep his fingers warm because it was an especially chilly night.

Harry’s pulling up to a brick building in exactly fifteen minutes. There’s fire escape ladders trickling down the side, and cement stairs leading up to a brown oak door with a thin window pane slightly left ajar while a burning yellow light seeps in a long bar across the steps like a satin ribbon. Several windows are bright with light from the inside, and the spare streetlamps that cast a spotlight on the sidewalk make the street unsettling, like someone is hiding in the shadows extending from tree trunks. Harry doesn’t like it one bit, and he hopes y/n isn’t walking these streets by herself at night.

He’s simultaneously taking his helmet off and reaching for his phone in his back pocket when he hears her small peep coming from the door.

“Hi!”

And then, she’s all he can see, hear, think. She’s just as absorbing and hypnotizing as the first time he saw her, even though she’s standing in what is clearly pajamas. A long, sage knitted sweater that ends at the tips of her fingers and just above her knees, making her look like a leafy blob. Black sweatpants that are just as loose and baggy shadow the faint silhouette of her legs. Y/n is fiddling with her fingers, picking whatever color nail polish paints her nails (Harry can’t see because he’s too far away) and it makes him want to soothe her hands with his own. She’s tugging her bottom lip between her teeth and she probably doesn’t even realize that her eyebrows are furrowed and the bunch on her brow-bone casts comic-like shadows across her pretty little face.

Stupidly, because he can’t think of anything else to say other than ‘hello’ but he thinks that’s lame, he clears his throat and says, “how’d you know I was here?”

“Your… uhm- your motorcycle,” she points with a finger to the machinery beneath his bum. He’s leaning against it, not wanting to intimidate her by crowding her space in a dark-ish place but he doesn’t realize it actually makes him look very intimidating and ‘bad-boy’ looking. Especially with the leather jacket, “was kinda loud.”

“Mmm,” he hums his acknowledgement, because at that last corner he had purposefully revved the engine more than necessary. To impress her or to sate his devilish tendencies, was unclear. The space between his collarbones feels like it’s inflating and deflating with every rapid pulse of his heartbeat, and for the first time in a while, he doesn’t know where his ‘game’ is. He feels lame, at a loss for how to act around an angel when he was nowhere near her level. Hell, did this count as corruption of her innocence? He was selling her drugs for fuck’s sake.

At this realization, a heavy, sticky, nasty weight slathers itself all over his back and it can only be described as guilt. Should he be selling her weed? Should he even be morally conscious at this point? He sells weed to teenagers when he’s sure they aren’t narcs, but this wasn’t some zit-faced twerp.

This was y/n.

A few seconds of silence pass and she’s just staring at him, her lips rolling like there are words she's holding in and Harry staring at her with a closed-off expression, thick chocolate eyebrows furrowed deep in concentration because he’s memorizing every curve of her face to look back on when she wasn’t with him anymore. It’s after her first intake of breath with her mouth open that he snaps out of it and twists hurriedly to yank out the pink baggie with shiny red cherries printed on them. His current special, though he saved the decorated packaging for his closer group of friends because he knew it made them happy and he loved seeing that smile on their faces, but he wasn’t going to tell her that (and secretly he hopes it might put a dent on his irrational guilt).

“Here are y’cherry joints,” he holds it out, pinched between two fingers and his lips are a hard line as his heart beats out of his chest because- oh, god} she’s stepping closer and she smells really good and-

“‘Kay, uhm…” She takes the bag from him and mentally, Harry curses because she chooses to cup the underside of the bag and that wipes all chances of their fingers accidentally touching. She won’t meet his eyes, she’s shifty on her feet, and he doesn’t know how to tell her not to be nervous without sounding like a creep, “I’ve n-never done this before, and Mitch didn’t say if you took cash or Venmo so I brought my phone and wallet because I wasn’t sure which one you preferred.”

His heart goes through the life cycle of a dandelion. It blooms, yellow with happiness and new life breathed into his seedling soul by the sound of her voice, and transforms into the wispy tufts that fly away, ditzy and twirling from her sweet breath. All the while she holds him in her hand, smiling.

But all of these feelings are hidden away under his mask of self-preservation, writhing and squirming like worms. He gives away nothing, his eyes looking a little dead even though the in-between space where his head meets with the nape of his neck is damp with nervous sweat and he remains stiff and lazily posed against his motorcycle because he’s sure if he didn’t have that support his knees would knock together and sound like the cue ball hitting a winning shot in an empty pool hall.

Carding his hand through his unruly curls, he realizes that he should’ve styles his hair before leaving the house or foregone the helmet entirely, not caring about dying because first official impressions should be killer, and the extra harsh cut in his British drawl when he rasps, “cash is fine,” has to do with his own annoyance.

Y/n is flustered, evidence of that clearly sprawled all over her cheeks and base of her throat which he can see even in the darkness. She lifts the front end of her sweater with a paw-hand and Harry’s insides explode. Her phone and folded dollar bills are squeezed between the band of her bottoms and bare skin of her stomach. For just a second, the beautiful second in which she plucks the money from her body, he catches sight of a white, lacy bra-band that looks glorious while backdropped by the plane of her abdomen. He discovers the meaning of life and death, and wishes for a bit of both because this is torture.

The back of his mouth is drier than the sahara desert. Two tender fingers give him Holy ten and five dollar bills, and her angelic voice sings, “thank you,” when he takes it from her like a beggar.

Harry is an asshole because he can’t even respond with words only a hum of ‘mhm’ before swinging his leg over his ride and muttering a half-hearted, choked, ‘see you’ before roaring away.

****

He tries to invalidate his rapidly growing crush. Truly. He wants to brush it off his shoulder like dust because it’s annoying and distracting to constantly think about her, but nothing works.

In retrospect, he was even psychologically rude about it, trying- and failing- to find negative qualities about her or flaws in her appearance, but his fawning heart wouldn’t allow such disrespect to the receiver of it’s pesky little affections. The worst he could come up with was that her eyes looked as if some snot-nosed, uncoordinated, messy little kid had shaken an entire bottle of glitter onto a piece of copy paper and called it a day. And that her voice was soothing enough to coax that same child into comfortable, cow-jumping-over-moons dreams.

He wishes he were that hypothetical child rocked to sleep by her lulling voice because by the way things were going, he’s having a pretty hard time getting a wink of sleep because every time his phone vibrates he snaps straight up like his spine is locked and obsessively searched his phone for her name. And he’s tried putting his phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ but it only makes it worse because what if he texts her and he doesn’t see it because he’s sleeping?

All of the customers that came after her, during his period of constant surveillance over his ‘trap phone’ received the best delivery times and the snarkiest attitude he’s ever had to offer. The morning sun isn’t as bright as it used to be and the moon is dimmer than usual because nothing can compare to her. He misses her terribly and it’s stupid because he doesn’t even know her and she probably thinks he’s a jerk because he acts like such a dick.

Mitch thinks it's funny that he’s so twisted about a girl. ‘A’ girl because even though he was high when he spilled his secret to his friend, he doesn’t think he could stand a potential breach of his privacy in the case that Sarah found out.

“I haven’t heard from her in a while,” Harry said.

“Do something about it,” Mitch said.

And well, what the fuck was he supposed to do? It’s not like he can reach out to her to ask her if she wants to buy more weed. That would seem greedy and insensitive on his part; a money hungry dealer. He’s already in a limbo of moral dilemmas that shouldn’t exist in the first place and he doesn’t want to complicate it by any form of shady communication.

His dilemma, however, was solved by whatever divine being that dared to bear witness to his nonsensical pleas to the ether. It seemed as though she favored the night and dark for her ‘picking up’, because the delightful ding! came at the thirty minute mark of his tossing and turning.

With the sheets rumpled around his waist and his templed damp with faint beads of perspiration, Harry straightened in the same way he has for the past month, only the tedious exhaustion of it not being her was begging to gnaw at him. Was this what it felt like to be paranoid? Snapping alert at every single indication of a phone because you think it’s the IRS- or the girl who infects your mind, in his case- calling to demand a service?

Preparing for disappointment again, Harry picked up the phone and squinted as his pupils adjusted to the sudden change in light.

Y/n: Hello, Harry! This is y/n. You delivered to me last month? Are you available for delivery at the moment?

There is a muted thud as his phone slips out of his shocked hands and lands on the rumpled duvet. A thundering set of drums replaces his beating heart and his jaw remains slack because it has lost the ability to close. The perspiration on his hairline transfers to the cave of his hands. For weeks he’s been in a constant state of glum, waiting for her next text, and now that he has it the only thing going through his mind is oh my god, oh my god.

Still, through his haze he manages to reply with,

Harry: Hi!

Harry: Yes, I remember, and yes, I’m available

What he really wanted to say, and what he should have sent was, how could anyone forget you? You haunt me day and night. But that was a little obsessive, and probably would have scared her off before they even got anywhere.

Harry: Would you like to see what I have available?

Y/n: Please :D !

The pre-written list of items he has available changed this week. He’s added some chocolate edibles, brownies, and gummy bears that he picked up for a cheaper, wholesale price at the dispensary he frequents, and it makes him wonder if she’ll dare to buy them. He had one a few days ago at Mitch’s place with Sarah and has a smashing time. He couldn’t stop petting their cat, Texas, because the feel of her brown fur between his fingers was heavenly.

Grey bubbles appear and disappear several times along with his intake of oxygen before a long text appears, listing everything she wants from his makeshift ‘menu’ and… it’s a lot. The last time he received an order like this it was for a frat party that one of Mitch’s coworker’s friend’s brother referred him to, and it took him an entire week of rolling and baking to get his inventory back up. His kitchen smelled like weed-butter for a solid month.

Harry: Give me a moment to make sure I can sell you everything. Pretty large order…

The chipped black paint on his nails became a dark blur as his fingers typed, deleted, and typed uncertain words over and over again before finally settling on a sentence that was… neutral and didn’t send the wrong meaning. Usually, with his customers he was a mixture of blunt and friendly, but y/n wasn’t just a customer, and it made everything ten times harder.

Y/n: I’ll take whatever you have, please! Take your time, I don’t mean to stress you out

If she said please one more time, Harry was sure that he would become a liquid, coagulated version of himself among the mess of his blankets.

Jerking his ankles free of the fabric snake that snared him to a useless bed, he clambered off, knuckling at his tired eyes and shivering as the cool, still air of his room wrapped itself around the warmth of his body. Reaching into his closet for the first things he finds, a dark green hoodie and grey sweatpants, Harry yawns and dramatically stretched with his arms way above his head, hoping that the movement would push out the feeling of loneliness that was beginning to take purchase between his ribs, right underneath his heart.

Another late night, another delivery. He wished there was someone in his bed to call him back. Please don’t go, they’d say, the bed is cold without you in it. A warm hand trailing like a ghost against his thigh as he walked away, and a sleepy smile or groan of displeasure as his goodbye. He might not stay in the bed, but he would be happy- no, elated, to know that he would be coming back to someone.

The grow light of his makeshift greenhouse tinted his skin purple as he rummaged through all of his pre-rolled and pre-packaged items, his phone at his side as he checked off everything she has asked for.

9 of the Cherry Deals

6 of the citrus-infused pre-rolls

4 lavender-infused

10 brownies

And 2 8ths

In total, it came out to 28 joints.

Which is… well, a lot for just one person, or two, or three (unless you’re Snoop Dog or something). Packing everything up into four separate paper bags, and then a larger white bag so that she isn't filling with all of the smaller ones, he types out another cold text.

Harry: Okay I have everything.

Harry: Send the address, please.

She sends the address, and Harry follows the same routine as the last time, nearly eating shit as he flew out into his garage. Excitement bubbles in his guts at the same increment and volume of his motorcycle’s initial purr. Flipping open the back compartment he usually stores things in, he realizes that there is no way it’s all going to fit inside, so he turns on his heels to grab a backpack from inside and then he realizes that he’s not wearing any shoes. The smooth, grey floor is cold against the arches of his bare feet, and his brows furrow at his own insolence. Had he been so wrapped up in… everything that he didn’t put on shoes?

Rolling his eyes at his own actions- and feeling a little embarrassed that he’d let it happen- Harry returned to his home and snatched up the first pair of fashionable compatible shoes within his reach (green converse the same shade of his sweater) and the backpack to place the white bag in ( a little redundant, but he didn’t think holding it while he rode would be a good idea). Rushing back to the garage, he hoped that he wouldn’t come up empty with words like he had the time before.

The last thing he wanted to do was scare her away.

***

He was right about it being a party.

At least three minutes before he was flipping down his kickstand, the thundering bass of some rap song (he thinks he can hear ASAP Rocky, but he’s not too sure) shakes the streets and the trees. It’s a house party in a building that was too big to fit into the word ‘house’, but yet too small to fit in ‘mansion’. Toilet paper and trash litters the front yard while couples make out and loners smoke cigarettes, or maybe joints, out on the generous porch. Sports cars and beat up rides pack the driveway and most of the street in front of the house, so it makes it really difficult to station his motorcycle in an area where he has a clear view of who’s coming in and out of the house, and therefore, really hard to spot y/n.

That is until-

“Hi, Harry!”

She’s sitting down on the curb with her arms around her legs and her chin on top of her legs, looking… scared. Her eyes were blown open like a newborn doe, and the sprawl of her limbs as she unravels from her sitting position to a wobbly stand mimics the shaky, knocking knees of a filly that is learning how to walk for the first time. Her voice is even headier than it was the last time he heard it, like windchimes in the spring chill.

Harry’s eyes roam over her with no attempt to conceal his blatant appreciation for the fuzzy sweater falling down to her mid-thigh. They seem to have become a pattern with her. This time, it’s a baby blue crew neck and a pair of jeans, and y/n’s has tried to tie her hair up into a bun at the back of her hair but spiky pieces stick out the back and tendrils swap her ears, making her look like a soft, smudge-y dream.

“Hello,” he says softly, not needing to clear his throat this time. He steps forward a bit, so he can hear her better (or at least that’s what he tells himself), “s’good to see you again.” Harry’s words are louder and more amicable than the last time he greeted her, and his lips part in a crooked friendly smile which she returned with the same tentativeness. There’s something off about her this time around. She’s pulling at her sleeves and shifting her feet, glancing over her shoulder as soon as she’s standing straight and her eyes won’t stand still on Harry’s figure for more than a few, burning seconds.

“It’s good to see you, too! I hope I’m not waking you up every time I text, though,” an exhaled laugh left her lips, and she dropped her gaze down to her shoes. Y/n rocked on her feet, once and then twice. “I think I’ve… I’ve made a habit of texting you late at night.”

And he blushes, “I- uhm… I was having a hard time sleeping, so you didn’t wake me. It’s fine.”

If only she knew that he was having a hard time sleeping because his subconscious was a bothered brat over not seeing her again. Pleading words of requests to ask her never to stop texting him were dancing on the tip of his tongue, banging against his barricaded lips and begging to come out. However, he didn’t think such daring words were fitting with their barely budding relationship. They were pitiful and needy, like a puppy, and frankly, Harry didn’t want to present that image.

“Oh,” she stilled her movements, checked over her shoulder again and then looked him in the eyes and said, “are you okay?”

“M’fine, yeah. Just got a lot of you on my mind at the moment,” he says. It makes y/n furrow her brows and tilt her head at him like a little cat, only then that he realize what he has said, “Things! Got a lot of things on my mind. Sorry,” he clears his throat, looks away while hanging his helmet on the handle of his ride. “Haven’t been sleepin’ much.”

“Aw, I’m sorry. That sucks,” y/n pouts. Pouts at him. And he just blinks. Doesn’t smile or laugh.

“S’alrigh’. Y’got quite a large order this time. Havin’ a party?” As soon as the words left his mouth he wanted to slap his palm against his forehead. He probably sounded stupid, given there was clearly a raging party going on in the house behind her. Of course she was having a party, what he should’ve said what ‘what are y’celebrating?’ or ‘are you here alone?’. Like the ‘do you have a date?’ kind of alone.

“You got it right? Thank you. And… something like that, I guess. I’m a bit nervous, honestly, because I’ve never…” She shrugs, looking away from him and back to the house.

“Never been to a party like this?” He’s confused. Surely he can’t mean that she’s never smoked before? Right? Because if that were the case, then what did she do with the weed he gave her last time? And what was she doing at a party were they were on this much drugs.

“No! No, no, I’ve never… smoked before.” She’s adamant in shaking her head. Her hands too, splayed wide like jazz hands.

“Y’never smoked before? What about last time?” Harry hates how it sounds as though he’s accusing her, but he can’t seem to control the way his words are coming out of his mouth, not around her, and it’s making him look like a dick. What he wants to do is smile and tease her, to find some way to ask her if she would like to share a joint with him without sounding too sleazy.

Shaking her head, “those were for my roommate and his boyfriend.”

“Oh.” Harry’s heart pitter-patters in his chest, his mouth in a straight line, and although there’s an abundance of emotions elbowing against the other in his chest, he shows none of them.

“Yeah,” awkwardly, she shifts her weight from heel to heel, arms crossed before reaching into her pocket and bringing out a folded wad of cash. “$540, right?”

“That’s right, but…” C’mon man, he scolds himself, pull it fucking together. This is a concerning situation. Surely she can’t be buying this much this time and not plan on participating. “Are you gonna be a’right?”

Worrying her lips between her teeth, she lets out a deep breath before answering. Smiling and nodding as she answers as if she wants to convince herself, “I think so. How hard can it be?”

“Pretty hard if it’s y’first time, sweetheart,” Harry forces himself to smile a little, but instead it looks as though he’s grimacing. “Will y’friends walk y’through it?”

Y/n looks back at the house again, and shuffles her feet. She’s got a sad little look in her eye, droopy and shy. Great. He was making her uncomfortable. “They’re n-not really my friends,” she says, “but I guess so.”

What? “What?” The word is sharp in his mouth. What the fuck was she doing, then? Hanging with people that she didn’t look all that enthused to be with, buying their weed, standing out here all alone?

“They’re not-”

A male comes out of the house, red solo cup in hand, and he’s not wearing a fucking shirt. He’s waving a hand in the air, trying to flag y/n down Harry assumes, and he’s offended for her. Harry’s brows furrow and his hands curl into fists behind his back. Why isn’t he wearing a shirt? What the fuck is he drinking and why is he being so disrespectful interrupting their conversation this way? All for some weed?

Now on the last step, the guy shouts, “Y/n, what’s taking so long?”

The poor girl jumps, startled, and her eyes go wide. “Sorry, I’ll be in soon!” Y/n shoves the money at him, frazzled, and takes the paper bag from his hands. “Here's $560, Harry. The rest is a tip. You can count it if you’d like!”

“It’s alright, here you-” she’s already bounding away from him, but he doesn’t want her to go, and somehow, he finds the will to call her back. He just wanted her to look at him once more, because she wasn’t even inside yet, but he missed her gaze. “Y/n!”

She stops, and he gets exactly what he wants. Her attention. “Yes?”

Harry swings a leg over his motorcycle and gets ready to leave before he does anything stupid like… like trying to hold her hand or something. Who knows, he lost his ability to act his age around her. “Have a water bottle at your side,” he’s mumbling almost, “and don’t take too much in on your first try. Exhale and don’t freak out when y’start coughing. Or embarrassed. It’ll be okay. And… and do y’best to relax.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

And y/n smiles at him.

It’s small, and it’s meek the way a feral kitten approaches a human with food. Scared, and rightfully so, because Harry wants to scoop her up and take her home.

“Of course. Have a safe night.”

She nods and walks away with another piece of his heart in her hands.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff oneshot #harry styles fic #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #harry styles smut imagine #harry styles fanfic

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itstimetojellyfish · 6 months ago

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Haven’t I given enough? ( Yes , now rest) ( Dan Heng x reader)

It sucks , how you always run around , and help people . And once you’ve done the work, they think that have the right to push you around to becoming their personal servant . An

That was only Belabog , the Lufou was worse .

Well, not for you . Dan Heng had it way worse than you . He was forced to get off the train to help his friends only to be attacked and unwillingly revealed his past .

Also the astral express plus the dozing general fought Phantilya ! That’s a very hard task to complete!

Mean while you just ran around helping people , enduring their insults , and getting tired , that was nothing compared to them !

Geez… how useless are you?…..

However , as time flies by , the memories you buried at the back of your head , came back . The memories of flesh and blood being torn from you just to save other people .

The memories of what used to be friends turned into betrayal . What used to be just a potion , was a curio that was destined to burn scars into your flesh . Now , you can’t view anything the same as before . Everything had a dark side and now you’re wary of everyone .

March coming into your room unannounced? Sword to her throat .

Caelus being loud? An outburst for him to be quiet .

Welt attempting to soothe your nerves? A suspicious move that may be trying to lead you to your death .

Himeko brewing coffee for you? A poison that’s trying to end your life .

Just how stupid are you? You try to calm your nerves, saying that their friends , but the mind can forget , the body and subconscious can’t however . Soon your in the archives sulking in a corner despising yourself for how utterly rude you’re being with Dan Heng warily looking at you from his spot .

(He’s the only one you haven’t lashed out on yet)

You don’t blame him for being suspicious of you . You refuse to show any skin , any past , or anything about you now . You snap at people and almost insult them .

( You wish you weren’t alive so you wouldn’t hurt people like this)

You pick at your fingers as you feel his stare boring into your soul and hear his thoughts about how disgusting you are. It’s honestly deserved .

Soon , you move to another corner where he can’t see you and start to cry silently. You hate yourself for being so rude .

( But haven’t you given enough?)

( You’ve went around helping people while they insult you . You blindly trusted your friends only for them to betray you and leave you as they escaped . You swallowed a so called medicine when in reality it was a curio that almost killed you and made you experience excruciating pain for months)

( So tell me , haven’t you given enough?)

You thought that was just a voice in your head but in reality, Dan Heng was right next to you crouching down and holding your head , gently wiping away your tears.

“ Wait what?…” You stare at him in shock as you try to come up with a reasonable response why he knows all of this .

He looks at you for a few seconds and then gathers you into his arms while revealing his true form to you . A cool , teal tail gently wrapped around your waist and rubbed against you .

“ I did some researching , there was a legend about a person , who faced great obstacles. Both mentally and physically. Friends betraying them , flesh being torn out of their own will to save others .

There’s a lot . There’s even one where a potion was supposed to help them but it was actually a curio . Basically they were used as a meat shield and testing subject “ He caresses your cheek .

“ If my theory is correct , based off the reactions you give and the reactions in the legend . Is it safe to assume you’re the person who is mentioned in the story?”

You freeze , then all the memories come rushing back , the faces that were so blurry became refined in detail .

But with memory of friends , comes the memory of pain.

You break down sobbing as you remember everything single thing that happened to you . You’d expect Dan Heng to stay still but he doesn’t .He coddles you and keeps you warm , gently draping a blanket over you .

“ So I was right….” He murmurs to himself .

You start to tire as your exhaustion hits you like a truck . Dan Heng notices this and just rocks you to sleep as you drift off .

You struggle to stay awake but he just continues to coddle you and just says . “ Rest, you’ve given enough “

Once the reassurance is given that he wouldn’t hold it against you for sleeping , you close your eyes and fall asleep .

Soon , neon blue eyes are glowing and a dark promise is given .

“ I won’t let you suffer again .”

————————————————————————

Thanks for reading! Have great day!

#dan heng x you #dan heng x reader #dan heng hsr #dan heng imbibitor lunae #imbibitor lunae #dan heng il #Reader is self deprecating #Dan Heng is trying to figure them out #honkai star rail #Reader is a character in a legend #Reader has no memory of past until now #Mildly Yandere

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 10 months ago

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I Wish You The Best

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: You thought you had it all figured out, but when a certain green-eyed stranger keeps showing up in your life and turns it upside down you wonder if it’s best to push him away or if you should let him in. Reader is a grad student in medical school that doesn’t know anything about the supernatural world. This is the first fic in my Before You Go Universe, but can be read as stand alone.

Tropes: Angst, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Age Difference (Reader is early to mid-20's and Dean is probably early to mid-30's)

Word Count: 5.5K

Warnings: Some swearing (once or twice), Mentions of sex (not explicit at all), Implied sex, Self-deprecating Thoughts (Dean), Dean might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

"Did you understand anything from that lecture?" Tim asks nudging your shoulder.

The sour smell of beer and sweat fades in and out of your nose as you make your way to the Science building through the mass of students on the way to the football game. It was a Thursday night, Thursday night for everyone else meant tailgating, cheap beer, and face paint, but Thursday night for you meant four hours in the anatomy lab surrounded by the oppressive smell of formaldehyde and bent over a table examining the internal intricacies of the human body.

It wasn’t unwelcome, you knew what you signed up for when you decided to go to medical school, but you still wished that the lab was earlier in the day instead of at 6 pm.

The air is filled with the dull throb of energy, pulsing with the music from speakers all over campus, and through the throngs of people that pass you on the way to the stadium. The buzz of excitement in the air vibrated through your nerve endings. If you paid attention to how well the football team was doing, you would have known that tonight was the championship, but the closest you got to pigskin was the bag of pork rinds in your backpack and the occasional football player that asked you for help finding research materials during your shifts at the library.

"Nope." You reply jostling past a group of guys toting a giant stuffed pig wearing jersey of the school’s rival while they catcall some girls up ahead dressed from head to toe in bright red.

"Then why did you keep nodding?"

"Because Professor Drake was staring right at me!"

"You didn't have to make eye contact."

"It's a little late for that don't you think?" You smile up at him. He's taller than you, with dark hair falling forward into his glasses and a lean build. "But it's alright, I'll just binge watch YouTube videos."

Tim laughs adjusting his backpack over his shoulder. You had been lab partners since your first year, randomly assigned and forced to collaborate, but after many late night study sessions and mental breakdowns, Tim was one of your only friends.

“You seem to spend a lot of time on YouTube." He smiles.

"It's free education."

"Seems ridiculous to pay all this money just to learn it on YouTube."

"If YouTube handed out degrees for watching videos I’d be a doctor by now. I’d probably also have a degree in culinary arts.” You look down to check the watch on your wrist. You were both running late for lab. Dr. Welsh hated it when students were late, in fact, he was notorious for locking the door. Each week there was always some poor soul that banged on the door for entry, but Dr. Welsh knew no mercy. One time, you witnessed another student attempt to sneak in through the window an hour late. Dr. Welsh made them go back out the way they came, despite the lab being on the third floor.

At least the student brought a ladder with him.

“Culinary arts?”

“I like pie. Plus baking helps me cope with my stress.” You knock into his shoulder to shut him up. “What? You don’t watch anything weird on YouTube?”

“I usually start watching videos to understand the lectures and suddenly it’s been 7 hours, it’s 3 am and I’m watching a timelapse of metal rusting.”

“We’ve all been there buddy.”

"Hey doll-face!" You hear from somewhere behind you, but you ignore it, believing it to be another group of guys who splash beer over the sidewalk.

You glance down at your watch again.

"We're not going to be late." Jake says sensing your anxiety. "We've got 5 minutes."

"Early is on time, on time is late, late is inexcusable." You sing-song.

"Dr. Welsh embroider that on a pillow for you?"

"No it’s just-"

Someone grabs your backpack and pulls you back a step. What the- You whirl around prepared to cuss out a drunken frat boy, but you weren't expecting Dean Winchester.

"Dean." You say in surprise.

He looks better than you remember. Dean's wearing a red flannel covered by a black jacket, his hair tousled just the right amount to look effortless, his green eyes crinkled around the edges as his mouth pulls into a smile that makes your knees weak.

Your relationship, if you could even call it that, began your first week of classes, two years ago. You had just moved into your apartment and met your new roommate, but instead of going out to the new student mixer with her, you decided to stay in and unpack. It was past midnight when you heard a commotion in the apartment next door and when you opened your front door to investigate, you found Dean in the hallway leaning against the wall.

His clothes were torn, he had a knife in his hand, blood was soaked through the front of his shirt, but when his eyes met yours, you weren't afraid. He looked so broken, so small that you had to help him. So you pulled him into your apartment and stitched him up the best you could, while he tried to lie about how it happened and explain why he looked like he'd been through a blender. Dean had never been good at lying to you, not even then. He was also the biggest baby you had ever met when it came to wound care.

In the months that followed Dean continued to show up, each time with injuries less and less life threatening asking you to help him, until one day he showed up perfectly fine and continued to show up. You would spend every minute together for a few days and then he would leave like nothing happened, only to show up again in a few weeks and it would start all over again.

Sometimes you thought that he wanted more than just a few days together, but then he would just leave, not giving you any other explanation. You hadn't expected to fall for him as hard as you did, but each time he left it broke you. You found yourself hoping each day that he would show up, only to be disappointed when he didn't. Days would drag by fading into shades of gray until finally Dean would show up and everything went back to color, only to sink back into monochrome when he left. The last time you had seen him was a month ago, when you told him that you couldn't do this anymore and told him not to come back.

But now he was here, again.

"Hey Doll-face." Dean smiles wider.

You try to ignore how your heart stutters in your chest when he smiles at you.

"Do you know this guy?" Tim asks you taking a step forward to put himself between Dean and you.

Dean's eyes trace Tim, smile slipping into confident smirk as he sizes him up. He opens his mouth, but you interrupt whatever thought was about to come out.

"Unfortunately I do." You sigh. "Tim can you give us a minute."

"Sure. But-"

"I know." You say, understanding that he was going to remind you what time it was. "We won't be late."

"I'll be over there." Tim puts a healthy distance between the two of you, far enough to give you space, but close enough that he can see you.

Dean is still smirking at him. "Boyfriend?" His eyes flit to yours, amused.

"Lab partner." You adjust your grip on your backpack unsure what to do.

I said everything I needed to say the last time. I thought that was it. Did he think I didn't mean it?

You think about the last time he was here, when you told him that you couldn't do this anymore and when he finally left, how you skipped all your classes and stayed in bed for two days clutching a pillow to your chest and wishing that it was him. It had felt like the end. The end of whatever the hell this had been. Sometimes you wished that you had defined it the first time you slept together, wished that you had told him you didn't do that ever, that you didn't just sleep with people without feelings because you knew sooner or later it would end up like this.

Then again you knew that you always had feelings for him, since the moment you locked eyes with his the night you met.

"He’s cute. If you’re into that geeky kind of thing. Though you could always date Sam-"

"What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood. Plus I didn’t want to miss the big game.” Dean's eyes flit to the mass of people swarming around you, shouting and singing as they stumble down the cracked pavement. The dark shadows of the buildings stretch long over campus, illuminated by the lamplights that line the sidewalks.

"You should have called"

"I did. You never pick up" He arches a perfect eyebrow.

"Most would take that as a hint"

"Well Sweetheart given my profession you not picking up made me worry."

By now you knew exactly what he did. Despite Dean not acting like he wanted a relationship, when all was quiet and it was just the two of you laying in bed he confided in you, told you things about his life that made you hold him close and wish that you could make him forget all about it. You loved those soft moments with Dean, when it felt like more and you could imagine that Dean wanted to be as wrapped up in you as you were in him.

Your heart clenches in your chest as you try to forget it all, forget the day he walked into your life, and forget how much you like him.

"I can’t do this with you right now, I’ve got a lab in 3 minutes." You turn towards where Tim is standing, prepared to leave.

"Come on you can blow off one lab.” Dean grabs your backpack turning you back to face him. “We can go to the big game. You know I can’t say no to free beer-“ The look in his eyes is joking.

He doesn't understand.

You shake him off. "No I can't Dean. This is important to me. This is my life. I can't drop everything just because you show up out of the blue."

"It wouldn't be out of the blue if you picked up your phone." His smile dips into an attractive pout that makes it very difficult to think.

"Dean why are you here?"

"I told you, I was in the neighborhood-"

"We talked about this. I can't do this anymore."

"I remember you talking about it."

"Yes and I remember you leaving." You snap as the memory of the last time you saw him rises in the back of your throat. You think about the days that followed, when you couldn't focus and flunked a test.

"Y/n-“ Dean sighs.

"Look, I like spending time with you, but I can't keep doing this to myself. You show up, we spend every second together for days, and then you leave. It would be one thing if we were trying to do long distance, but we’re not. All I get is radio silence for weeks and then you show up all over again like nothing happened, expecting to pick up right where we left off, and the cycle begins all over again."

"I don't go radio silent for weeks. It’s you that doesn’t pick up your phone or text me back.”

"Yes you do and I can't do it. I won't do it. Because every time you leave I wonder if it's the last time I'll ever see you and-" You take in a breath to stop the ball of emotion that lodges itself in your throat. "It does something to me. And I'm not saying that what you do is any less important than what I'm trying to accomplish here. I’m not telling you to stop hunting. But this is my life Dean, my future. And I don’t want to put that in jeopardy because you show up every few weeks when you’re feeling restless. I want more than a few days every few weeks. I want more and I'm worth more. And if you can't give that to me that's fine, but please stop coming around and so I can find someone else who can."

The expression on Dean's face shifts, it's no longer the playful smirk or attractive pout, it almost looks heartbroken.

But that can't be right. Dean doesn't see me that way.

You look at where Tim is waiting for you to avoid Dean's gaze. He’s looking down at the watch on his wrist and you can feel his apprehension.

"I've got to get to my lab." You turn away from Dean, but stop halfway to Tim. "It was good to see you Dean. I wish you the best."

As Tim and you begin to walk away, you can feel Dean's eyes on you the whole way up the stairs into the science building, but you refuse to turn back.

"Are you okay?" Tim whispers.

"I will be. Let's just go before Dr. Welsh locks the door." You mutter while pushing down the guilt that rose when you thought of how Dean looked when you walked away.

Despite Dr. Welsh’s attempts to lock the door, you were far too angry with Dean to let another man stand in your way, so when you and Tim arrived to lab 10 seconds before the clock struck 6, you shoved your boot in the door before Dr. Welsh could shut it. And by some miracle he let you in. Maybe it was the murder in your eyes.

Tim had been stunned, you were usually more reserved, not quick tempered. But everything that happened with Dean rubbed you the wrong way.

You couldn’t decide if you liked him or hated him. Right now the hate was winning.

How dare he? You thought to yourself, hand clenching on the scalpel so tightly that Tim backed up. How dare he just show up again after I told him not to?

“Y/n, are you okay?” Tim had asked.

“I’m fine. Don’t I look fine?” You’d snapped at him.

Even Dr. Welsh had given you a wide berth through lab.

After you cleaned up everything it was 10:26 pm, which meant you had a little time before your late shift in the library.

“Did you want to go see if that shawarma food truck is still parked around the corner?” Tim asks hesitantly.

“No. I’m just gonna go to the library and study before my shift.” You mumble, shouldering your backpack and ignoring the urge to think about Dean.

Hopefully he took the hint and he’s gone. The thought brought a prick of guilt. Would that be the last time I ever saw him? Would those be the last words I ever said to him? You fight the urge to call him, to apologize, because the one thing you had wanted to say was that you liked him and you didn’t want him to go, you wanted him to stay in your life permanently. Sure long distance was hard, but for him it would be worth it.

“Oh.” Tim pauses for a minute. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Huh?”

“Well that Dean guy. You seemed kinda upset.”

“I was- am. But it’s okay, give me a few hours I’ll be over it. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

“Make sure to send the link to that Timelapse of metal rusting.” You try to smile, but the joke falls flat.

“Okay.” Tim watches you go.

The library was only a 9 minute walk from the science building, but it still felt too long. You longed to be lost in your notes, to think of anything else other than Dean, but you couldn’t.

Why did he have to come back? Why couldn’t he have just let it lie? I was doing better-

You think about the weeks that followed his last visit, a haze of homework, tests, and work.

Well, I was doing okay.

The thrum of music is still in the air, but now less people pass you as you walk down the sidewalk, and the ones that do are holding hands and laughing. Your thoughts shift to Dean again.

I like him, but I have to get over him because it’s not going anywhere. You think about the first time you slept together. Maybe this is my fault, maybe I should have defined this from the beginning. I mean, I know the kind of person he is…

That thought makes you pause. Sure the first few times you’d patched his wounds Dean was sexy and flirty, but all the times that followed he seemed, sweet, charming. It wasn’t that you spent every moment in bed, he had taken you out to dinner at the diner down the street, fought with you over the last slice of pie, took you to a bar for drinks where he shamelessly beat you at pool, other times he waited for you to be done with your classes to make sure that you didn't have to walk home alone at night. You remember how mad he had been when you told him you did that, but gas was so expensive and it was easier to walk the four blocks.

Someone grabs your arm from behind, pulling you out of your memories, and you finally snap. Using the only self defense move you knew, besides S-I-N-G from Miss Congeniality, you knock off the hand and flip the offender over your shoulder prepared to spray them in the face with the mace in your pocket.

But then you realize who it is.

Dean frowns up at you from the ground. “When I taught you that, I didn’t expect you to use it on me.”

“Just be happy that I didn’t pepper spray you.” Your eyes narrow.

Maybe I should. It would make me feel better.

“Would have been the highlight of my night.” He stands up from the ground brushing off the front of his clothes with a pointed look.

“Dean what are you still doing here?”

“I want to talk.”

“I’ve said all I need to.”

“But I haven’t.”

“I don’t care. You’ve heard what I need to say and I’m sick of you not listening.”

“Y/n-“

“Fine, I’ll say it one more time, but listen this time. I've never, never depended on anyone else in my life. It's been me, me for a long time.” You poke your finger into his chest to emphasize your point. “Then you just sauntered in and changed everything. You made me care about you, worry about you, and you made me depend on you showing up in my life. Every time you leave it breaks me. Every time I’m in a funk for days. The last time you left, I cried for two days and I didn’t go to any of my classes! I'm trying to be serious about my life. And I can't do that if you show up every few weeks and make me expect something and then leave a few days later and I'm devastated.”

Dean’s eyes widen in surprise. “I didn’t know that.”

“I have to get over you Dean, and I can't do that if you keep showing up. So please just go.” You turn away from him.

His hand comes down on your arm again to turn you back to him. “I don’t want you to get over me.”

“What?”

“Do you think I like leaving you? Do you really think it’s that easy for me?” He looks hurt.

“It certainly seems to be when you walk out after a few days with a smile like it means nothing! Like I mean nothing-“ You fight the tears that burn against your eyes. You wanted to be something for him just as much as he was something for you, but you were afraid. You hadn’t depended on anyone since you graduated and moved away from home. You weren’t used to needing someone in your life this much.

"You mean everything!” Dean shouts grabbing your shoulders. “It’s me that means nothing."

You blink your eyes for a second, not comprehending what he’s trying to say. "Dean what are you talking about?"

"I didn't think you wanted that-" He looks down.

Your eyes trace the slump in his shoulders, the frown on his handsome face, and the way he won’t meet your gaze.

What is he talking about?

You try to think of a time that you’d seen him look so vulnerable, but the only time you imagine was the night you met.

"Wanted what?"

"Me.” Dean’s voice is a whisper.

"I'm confused."

His eyebrows are furrowed, lips pressed into a tight line. “I’m nothing like you.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You’re a little younger than me and you’re smart and you’ve got this bright future ahead of you. You don’t need someone like me dragging you down-“

“Someone like you? Dragging me down? Dean what are you talking about?" You can't comprehend what he's saying. You reach up to cup his cheeks, but Dean pulls back from you, glancing away.

“I didn’t go to a fancy college, I barely finished high school. I’ve spent most of my life in motel rooms committing credit card fraud and trying not to die. And then I met you. You’re funny and caring and so smart, and I just thought that you would like it more if I came by every once in a while to relieve some tension. I didn’t think that you would want me to stay.”

He didn’t think that I would want him? That can't be right. Dean is so confident usually. You search his face and see the genuine vulnerability behind his green eyes.

“Are you serious?” You ask him.

He doesn’t say anything.

“Dean, you are smart-“

“Not the same way you are”

“Dean.” You can’t help but take his hand. Dean’s green eyes focus on yours for a second, wide and open. “You don’t have to go to college to be smart. You’re resourceful and you know more about supernatural creatures than anyone else. Even the top scientists and doctors in the world don’t believe in them and they went to stuffy old colleges and fight with one another over who’s smarter. I don’t care that you didn’t go to a fancy college. What you do is important, probably more important than what I’m going to do. You protect people, you’ve saved the world more than once, and sure maybe it’s not glamorous to some people but it is to me.”

His eyes widen in surprise.

“Have you thought that maybe I like spending time with you because you’re so different than the people I see everyday?” You ask him softly, squeezing his hand.

“No.” Dean mutters.

“I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, I don’t have lavish wealthy parents bankrolling me. My dad is a mechanic. I work two jobs and send him money so I don’t have to worry about him. Sometimes I feel like a fraud. But when you show up I don’t feel like a freak. With you I feel like I don’t have to pretend, I can just be me. And I like you, a lot. This has never just been about relieving tension or sex for me. Ever. I mean it’s nice-“

“Just nice?” Dean raises an eyebrow.

You flush bright red. “I like spending time with you without that too. All the times we spent laying in bed or went to a bar or went to get food, and we talked were equally as wonderful for me. I like talking with you. I like hearing about your life. I just assumed that you had someone in every state that you visit when you’re feeling restless and that you didn’t want a relationship.”

“There’s no one else. Hasn’t been since I met you.”

Deans eyes lock with yours as you comprehend what he just confessed.

“Really?” Your voice is only a whisper.

“Fuck I’m not good at this romantic comedy shit-“ He mutters to himself shaking his head. “I like you too. I wish that I could be here all the time. I hate leaving you. It’s too quiet. When I’m not here all I do is think about you, what you’re doing, how your day was.”

Your entire body explodes with his words, heart beating so fast you think it’ll grow wings and take flight.

“When I was younger I used to laugh at Sam because he wanted a normal life, but with you I understand. You’re so different than anyone I’ve ever met and it hurts me when I’m away from you.” Dean continues with a soft smile that makes you lose all feeling in your legs.

He takes your other hand. “I understand that what you’re doing is important and I’m not asking you to quit school. All I’m asking is that you give me a chance. I want to make this work. I know that long distance isn’t easy, but I want to try.” His eyes search yours, begging for a answer, but you can barely breathe let alone speak. You watch his face fall as he takes your silence as your answer. “But I understand if you don’t want to, because you are worth more. You’re worth more than a few days, than a phone call or a text. You deserve someone who can be here with you all the time. You’re worth more than what I can give you. And you shouldn’t have to settle-“

You grab the front of his flannel because you can’t think of anything to say and pull him down to you for a kiss. Pins and needles trace down your spine as his soft lips move against yours. He smiles against your mouth, folding you into him, his large hand on the small of your back just under your backpack causing warmth to shoot down your spine. You lose yourself in the way his body fits around yours

“I’m not settling.” Your hands cup his cheeks as you look deep into his eyes. “I never want you to feel that way, because you are worth a hundred of any man I have ever met in my life. And if it’s my cross to bear to make you understand that every day of my life, then so be it. Because I would be lucky to spend any amount of time with you. I don’t want anyone else. I just want you, Dean. I’ve wanted you since the day we met and every day after. And I’m yours as long as you want me.”

Dean’s smile breaks open something in the pit of your stomach and goosebumps scorch across your skin. “I can’t imagine not wanting you.” He presses his forehead against yours.

You stand there with his warm hand pressed into your back trying to think of another time that you felt even a fraction of what you feel for him. You think about your high school boyfriend, about a few of the guys you dated in during your undergrad years, but you come up with nothing. Because you can’t compare him to anyone else you’ve ever met. And it hurt you to think that Dean thought so little of himself in the grand scheme of things.

He leans down to kiss you again, pulling you against his chest so tight that everything blissfully falls away.

“Are you hungry?” He whispers against your lips after a minute.

“Yes, but my shift at the library starts soon. I’m there til 2.” You tighten your hands at the back of his neck, not wanting to let him go.

“Okay. I’ll go with you.”

“Dean it’s okay if you just want to go back to my apartment and sleep. I can give you the key-“ You notice the dark circles under his eyes, but you know that Dean wasn’t one to complain about being tired.

“It’s worth being tired if I get to see you.” Dean smiles. “But I’ll go get us some food, because I’m hungry too.”

“Don’t forget the pie.”

“Have I ever?” He brushes his lips to yours one more time, but you don’t remove your arms from around his neck. “You’re going to have to let me go doll.”

“Just 5 more minutes.”

You spend the weekend together in your apartment. All those blissful moments together solidify the thought that this is real, that this time it’s going to be different. Every night going to bed with Dean tucking you against him and waking up every morning with your head on his chest feels like a dream, and you never want to wake. Every kiss and intimate moment between you feels like more, and you have to keep reminding yourself that it isn’t just sex, hasn’t ever been just sex. Dean wants to be there with you all the time, hold you close to him and share things with you. And this time you finally understand that you do help him forget and know that you do bring him as much comfort as he brings you.

When Monday comes and Dean has to go, you try not to think of it as the end.

Dean leans back against the door of the Impala, his hands on your hips, green eyes blazing in the sun, but it’s his eyes that warm you more than the sun’s rays.

"Sweetheart-" Dean begins, sensing what you’re thinking. His thumbs rub smooth circles against waist where your t-shirt rests.

"I know." You press your face into his flannel, inhaling the scent you ascribe to Dean. He smells like oil, leather, and the spicy scent of the soap he uses that tickles your nose.

"Hey." His free hand comes under your chin to raise your gaze back to his. "I promise I'm gonna come back. I promise that we're going to make this work. It’s going to be different.” He cups your cheek, eyes soft and understanding.

“I know, but you’re still leaving.” Your tighten your arms around his chest.

“I wish I didn’t have to. But Sam called, he needs me-“

“I know.” You breathe.

You don’t want Dean to feel any worse than he does about leaving, especially when you remember what he said to you a few days ago, about you deserving more and about how he wished he could be more for you. Deep down you know that both of you are determined to make this work, so you put on a smile.

“It’s okay.” You gently rub his back. “You’ll be back in 2 weeks and I’ll be on spring break in a month.”

“Does that mean I’ll get to see you in a bikini?” Dean grins.

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

“Hmm. Well until I see you-“ He raises his right hand from where it rests on your hip to remove the large silver ring from his finger. "Don't panic, it's not an engagement ring." Dean's smile breaks you a little. "Just me promising that I'll come back, that I'll call and text you so much that you'll be sick of me." He slides the ring onto your thumb, the weight comforting.

"I could never be sick of you."

“Just you wait.” He winks, holding your hand to his chest. “I bet I can prove you wrong.”

“I welcome the challenge.”

The kiss goodbye is bittersweet, but you hold yourself together, refusing to cry as Dean gets into his car and leaves. You watch the Impala disappear around the corner, taking your heart with it, but just as it does your phone rings.

“Hello?”

“I miss you.” Dean’s voice fills the line and this time you can’t stop the tears.

“I miss you too.”

“I promise I’ll be back in two weeks.”

“Okay. Please be careful.” You remember all the stories he's told you over the time you’ve known him, all the horrible things that happened to him and Sam. Sometimes you wish he hadn’t, because you can’t help but worry.

“I’m always careful.” You can hear him rolling his eyes.

“As the person who has spent the past 2 years patching you up, I can say with certainty that you are not always careful.”

“Then I promise to be more careful than usual.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” The wind picks up, pulling your hair from the ponytail at the back of your head.

“I’ll call you when I make it back to the bunker.”

“Good.”

“Bye Sweetheart.”

“Bye Dean.”

Your gaze drops to the heavy ring on your thumb and you hold tight to the hope and belief that this time is different, allowing the memories of the past few days to brush away any doubts that threaten the thought of what the future will bring.

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for future fics in this universe please let me know! :)

#jensen ackles #supernatural fanfiction #spn #dean winchester #supernatural #dean winchester x you #spnfandom #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fluff #spn fanfiction #dean winchester fic #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #soft dean

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finniestoncrane · 1 month ago

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Farrell!Penguin x Plus Size!Fem!Reader, word count: 8.5k commission: i am an oswald cobblepot fat girl lover truther, and i am always so so so so overjoyed when i get to write him loving on a big girl!! this is a sweet commission i got for a slightly shy and maybe a bit insecure and nervous plus size reader going on a date with oswald and then having some dessert afterwards... 💜🐧 commission me here! request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: weight/insecurities mentioned, passing up food, awkward dinner date, penetrative sex, there's a magnum condom for my monster dong moment in here so you better at least giggle and blush for him

It was a fairly typical Saturday for you, with the exception of the evening’s plans. The minute that five o’clock had hit, you were rushing up off the sofa to start getting ready. Not that you had been doing anything except sitting in silence and waiting all day. Every time you tried to read or work on your latest craft project, or even turn on the TV for some mindless, numbing background noise, you had been immediately distracted by your nerves. And worst of all, those nerves had now made you ever so slightly behind your own schedule.

You ran quickly from the bathroom of your small apartment to the bedroom, abandoning the towel as it fell from you, but catching it in your hand to drag it along behind, and hoping none of your neighbours happened to peer in through the blinds at that moment. Standing in the corner of your room, you wicked away at the droplets of water on your body, watching your thighs jiggle as you rubbed them down. If you spent too long on this, the painful ritual of doting on your body, you might not want to go out at all, and you couldn’t risk any kind of delay-inducing breakdown. This was too important. How often was it that people were invited out on a date with Oswald Cobblepot?

A lot, actually, you imagined. He was handsome, charismatic, powerful, and of course, rich. A fact which you didn’t find important, but which he had flaunted anyway by sending you an outfit to wear for your dinner with him. You didn’t even recognise the name of the boutique on the packaging it arrived in, that’s how fancy it must have been. And you had immediately felt out of your depth, knowing that Oswald was more fashionable, more in the know than you. About everything, it seemed.

Well, maybe not everything. You weren’t quite sure how certain he’d be that he’d made the right move in asking you out once you had the dress actually on. It felt too tight, and like it highlighted every part of you that you were entirely self-conscious about. Every lump, every bump, every asymmetrical curve that you found on the sides of your body, the way your stomach and back both protruded somehow. This dress found a way to highlight it, like it was set out to disappoint you. An enemy. But you were already running dangerously behind schedule, and while that of course would usually send you over the edge and into a pit of nerves, this was only amplified by a thousand, made exponentially worse by the fact that you were potentially going to be late for a date. A date with none other, and you hated to repeat yourself, Oswald Fucking Cobblepot. There really was no time for you to let in the nagging self-doubt, not tonight. If you didn’t look directly at it, then you could pretend it wasn’t happening.

You quickly tidied up your hair, letting it fall into a slightly neater version of your usual style, and added what little makeup you were willing to wear, knowing that your nervous sweating was liable to have it all sloughing off within minutes anyway. Your concerns about looking absolutely perfect for Oswald were no longer a priority, or even a possibility. All you needed to be at this moment was presentable and on-time. And those concrete needs were slipping out of your grasp with every minute you spent panicking in your apartment. With a final deep breath and a quick check of your bag to make sure you had everything, you gripped the door handle and headed out.

Surprisingly, the forecast had been relatively pleasant for the day, and you found this to be accurate when you were out in the mild, thick air of Gotham. No rain, no wind, just a grey sky and an above average temperature for what seemed like the perpetually dismal and gloomy place you called home. Still, you carried your umbrella in your bag anyway, not trusting anything about the city. Umbrella, pepper spray, spare cell phone battery, mini first aid kit. The essentials. As you walked down the steps to the subway station a block away from your home, you wondered how many other cities necessitated this level of preparation and protection from its citizens. Surely, any other city, any normal city, even those without their own vigilante figures of justice, would maybe, at a push, carry some pepper spray. But, you wouldn’t have it any other way. Without the risk, there was no reward. And if the risk was a cavalcade of gimmicky, but dangerous, villains, the reward was Oswald Cobblepot. He was very much worth it, in the grand scheme of things.

As you waited on the platform among the throngs of other commuters, you tried to soothe your nerves by reliving the moment Oswald had approached you. Out alone, stood up by a blind date, filled with nerves about whether or not he had seen you and decided he wasn’t into ‘big girls’ and then left without a single word.And just as you had decided that the drink in your hand would be your last, your senses were overwhelmed by a presence that made your heartbeat quicken. There was a distinct warmth, a deep, almost sweet scent, and a feeling of safety that enveloped you as a figure sidled up beside you at the bar. They asked you a question, a simple one, almost cliche.

“How’s someone like you drinking alone, sweetheart?”

When you turned to answer, you felt yourself wobble on the bar stool, body threatening to faint as you recognised Oswald Cobblepot, smiling at you, his gold tooth glinting in the dim lights of the bar.

Initially, you thought it was a mistake, and had turned to see if there was someone prettier sitting behind you that had caught his eye. But he had placed his thumb and forefinger on your chin, turning you back around to meet his eye. A confident move that, had it been executed by anyone else, you would have been quick to beat them off and leave angrily. But this was Oswald. Fucking. Cobblepot. His charisma and reputation let him get away with a lot of things in Gotham, a bit of forceful flirting was definitely one of them.

He had asked your name, placed his hand high on your thigh as you spoke, and then apologised for having to leave so quickly. But he took your number, gave you his, and told you to be ready on Saturday, because he was taking you out to make up for whatever ‘dumb, rat bastard’ had stood you up. You had expected it to be an empty gesture, one meant to placate a damsel in distress. So when the text came in the next morning, you were giddy beyond belief, and then had to sit down and practice your deep breathing to prevent a panic attack. Then the call came, and you worked out the details together. Or at least, you agreed with every aspect of the plan that Oswald told you.

And then yesterday, the dress had arrived.

The box it came in was itself more extravagant and beautiful than anything you’d ever even treated yourself to after a long time saving up. One of those boxes you knew you were saving, because it would definitely come in handy somehow. And the ribbons it was tied up in, the bow on top so perfect, the tissue paper the dress was carefully nestled within, all of it was too good to toss away. Plus, it had been hand-delivered by the courier of whatever high end store Oswald had purchased it from, the logo of which you didn’t recognise even, so it was all pristine. Your excitement was only dulled when you finally dared to open the box, very carefully, and found within it that the dress was definitely far more revealing than anything you had ever owned or even considered owning.

The low, scoop neck, the thigh high slit on the side, the tight, silk material, the thin straps, the sleeveless and backless style. None of it was your preference. And you’d known from the moment you tried it on that you’d be uncomfortable in it all evening. But it didn’t seem like there was any validity to the option of not wearing it. You might as well have spat in the box and sent it back to Oswald. No, you had to wear this dress. For him.

The next problem, once you had accepted the fate of having each one of your curves and rolls, your arms exposed, your breasts and cleavage, albeit sagging with weight, on display, was that you had nothing to wear with the dress. You had no spare cash, and not even anything in your savings, that you could part with in order to procure some accessories or a pair of shoes or a handbag that did the dress justice. And it was winter, which meant that you would have to wear your same old coat over the top on the journey to the restaurant where you were meeting Oswald.

“Like slapping makeup on a… yeah.” You thought it to yourself, cringing at how cruel your own words could be, but frowning at the truth. The nicest things you owned would have to do, and luckily, they were neutral enough, in silver and black, that they complemented, or at least didn’t clash with, the deep, shimmering and almost pearlescent purple of the silk fabric that made up the dress. All in all, you didn’t hate how the look had come together, but you were happy to wrap your body up in your almost ankle length puffer jacket as you thought about being viewed in public. Beneath the thick coat, no one would know, and that suited you perfectly.

As you grimaced at the harsh wind that bit at your cheeks, oddly grateful for the way it had distracted you from your almost forlorn thought spiral, you noticed the slight rumbling of the train that signalled its arrival at the station. Jostled from side to side by other commuters desperate, for some reason, to be the first on the train, you finally found your way inside and scoped out the carriage for a seat.

Looking to your left, you caught the eye of a woman with a seat next to her, who looked down to your shoes and back up to your head with a look of vague disgust, one you were familiar with from some people. She looked to be making herself as small as possible in her seat, as if she thought you might crush her when you sat down. You decided you’d rather stand quite happily than let her judge you so extremely, and karma served her quickly as a kid wearing headphones which were blasting tinny music sat down beside her and spread his legs apart, taking up the space she had so graciously provided him, much to her chagrin.

Smiling a little, trying to keep it to yourself, you saw there was now a seat to your right, and when you looked, the man beside the empty spot smiled and shifted his bag onto his lap. With gratitude, you smiled at him as you sat down, holding your own bag in front of you and keeping yourself busy by watching your reflection in the window opposite you. It was there that you spotted the man at your side stretching his neck, trying to gaze down the front of your jacket, which had come unzipped slightly, exposing your bare neck and the deep cleavage the dress provided. Just as you prepared yourself to cough or make it known that you were well aware of what he was doing, you felt his body lean into you, far too close for comfort, and he whispered in your ear.

“Y’know, I like a big girl.”

That was enough to have you standing up and walking away to the door of the carriage. You were only one stop early, you could walk to the restaurant. Anything was better than sitting there being judged or ogled. Usually, you could shrug these gazes off, the cruelty, the fetishisation of your body, but today everything just seemed to weigh that much heavier on your mind, with no pun intended.

Once out of the station, you looked at your phone and began pounding the pavement, realising that because you had gotten off a stop earlier, you might be a few minutes later. The world felt like it was closing in on you, a catastrophe of epic proportions which would set the entire date off on the wrong foot.

“Hey, gorgeous. You rushin’ to see someone special?”

You were in no mood now, and what little bravery you could muster was quick to come out as you turned to scold the sleaze who was trying to hit on someone who was so obviously busy. Luckily, before the tirade of venom spilled over your plump, pouting lips, you recognised the face, the smile, leaning out of the extravagant, deep purple and gold car’s window.

“If you’re goin’ my way, I could give you a ride?”

Oswald winked, leaning over to the passenger side and pushing open the door. The restaurant was minutes away, but you got in anyway, not wanting to make things awkward by refusing a ride. With his hands on the wheel, thick fingers, gold rings on them curled around it, he took off for the short journey. As he drove, you could feel your upper lip sweating, unsure about what to do or say now, but you managed to spew some words out.

“Mr Cobblepot, it’s nice to see you again! At least I don’t have to worry about how to find you when I walk in the restaurant.”

“Oswald, doll. We’re on a date, it’s not a formal affair.”

Cursing yourself, feeling your cheeks flush a little, you let out a soft laugh.

“Oswald, thank you for the ride.”

“No problem, glad I could be of service.”

Within a few minutes you were pulling into the parking space at the front of the restaurant, one you were sure had been kept empty by the poor waiter standing out in the rain. They really rolled out the red carpet for Oswald Cobblepot around here, evidently, and the thought made you nervous. What if they were shocked by his choice of date? Confused, enough to whisper about you, to mention it to him when he got up to go to the bar alone for drinks. Maybe he’d change his mind about you if someone told him he could do better? You had to toss those thoughts to the side for now. You were on a date with him, and that was enough. If this ended horribly, if he never wanted to see you again, at the very least you could be grateful that you got this sweet taste of the good life for one evening.

You smiled towards Oswald as he held the door open for you, trying your best to look confident, and to pretend that you weren’t terrified to enter into the building first. Already, you could feel eyes on you. These kinds of people could smell on you that you didn’t belong there. It was obvious to them. But when Oswald stepped up behind you, every lingering stare was quickly averted, no one daring to make any judgements while you were on the arm of someone so powerful. It was an interesting feeling. Safety, for one of the first times in your life. Even standing next to him felt like you were being held in a warm embrace of comfort. He just exuded a confidence you couldn’t quite find, and he seemed to have plenty to share.

Pushing ahead of you, Oswald followed the waiter to your table and pulled your seat out for you, taking the seat opposite and moving it around to sit closer. With a snap of his fingers, the wait staff rushed to move his place setting around in front of him, murmuring quiet, sincere apologies as they did so. And before you could let that inherent egoism of that power move to settle uncomfortably on your mind, he opened his wallet and passed each of them a crisp, hundred dollar bill, patting them on the back and offering his deepest gratitude. He was generous, a gentlemen, and he was kind to everyone on every rung of the ladder, it seemed. He really was absolutely perfect.

Lifting the menu, hiding your blushing smile behind it, you studied the plentiful options and felt the drool collect against your cheeks before you reminded yourself of who you were, where you were, and who your company was, at which point you flitted your eyes to the lighter options and settled on a bland salad.

“What’re ya havin’, kid? Remember, this is my treat.”

“Oh, thank you, Mr Co- Oswald. I was actually looking at the garden salad, it looks very nice.”

“Huh… sure thing.”

He seemed disappointed in your request, and you wondered at what point you’d gone wrong. There were a multitude of possible answers to that question though, of course, so instead you tried to steer the conversation on to another topic.

“So, do you come here often? The staff seem to know you.”

Lowering his menu, Oswald flashed you a grin, his tooth glinting as he winked.

“They know me everywhere, doll.”

As you tried to struggle out of the whole it felt you were digging, he laughed heartily, placing his hand on your knee for a brief moment before removing it again.

“Relax, sweetheart, I’m just joking. I mean, they do know me everywhere, and I mean everywhere, but I’ve been comin’ here since I was a young man, just making my way in the world. This food’ll keep you right, keep you good on the path to success, ya hear?”

“And I ordered a garden salad. Fuck.”

“It sounds wonderful, Oswald. What are you going to have?”

Before he could answer, an old man, who you assumed was the owner, approached the table with a notepad, slapping Oswald on the back before greeting him.

“Mr Cobblepot! Nice to see you again, and with a date this time! Lucky you!”

You smiled, unsure if he meant either you or Oswald were the lucky ones.

“What can I get you, big guy? The usual?”

Raising his hands, Oswald shook his head.

“Uh, no, not tonight friend. We’re gonna have the nicest bottle of red you’ve got, and two garden salads, thanks, chief.”

“If you say so, Mr Cobblepot.”

With that, the ticket was put in, and your meal was prepared. There was a surge of disappointment coursing through you, but considering what other limited options you had, you felt you had done the right thing. Although, you couldn’t help but feel horrendously guilty about the fact that Oswald had felt as though he couldn’t eat what he wanted. You supposed there was some unreconciled double standard there, one that was enforced by society but ultimately upheld by your own self-doubt. But you had to commit now. That was at least a concrete plan while you got through the rest of the meal.

You tried to keep your eyes on Oswald, focusing on him as he spoke. As much as you didn’t really want this date to be something you had to “get through” that was, unfortunately, how it felt. To you, this was a chore for Oswald. Something he had committed to, and had to carry on with until he was done and could say goodbye to you. An embarrassment, in the dress he hadn’t yet commented on, which of course meant he hated it. Ordering a stupid salad and making him feel bad about whatever it was that he wanted. The sooner it was over, the better, at least for him. And it meant you could stop trying to pretend like you couldn’t see the prying eyes of the other tables, looking over at you, judging your clothes, your looks, the food you might eat, the company you were keeping.

Still, you managed to find some energy to maintain a conversation. It would have been impossible not to. Everything Oswald said, every polite, interesting question he asked you, every kind word he had commanded your attention. So much so that the time it took you both to place your forks down felt like it had gone in miraculously quick. Which it likely had. You didn’t want to look at your watch, but you imagined that given the fact you were both picking at what you would usually have considered a pretty small appetiser, that barely any time had passed at all. Not exactly value for his money, you cursed inwardly.

Looking to your plate, you were pleased, in a cruel and self-hating way, to see that you had managed to even leave some of the salad uneaten. The fear of eating in front of people not conquered, but at least bypassed, skillfully sidestepped for another evening.

And then your stomach rumbled.

You might have gotten away with it if you hadn’t also looked straight up and into his eyes to make sure he didn’t notice, but he did. Completely embarrassed, you made a move to excuse yourself, but he raised his hand and shook it, sighing as he spoke.

“Listen, kid… you gotta tell me. Why didn’t you just order what you wanted?”

“I… uh, I did, Oswald.”

“Look, either you’re lying to me, because I don’t think you did. Or, you’re not the kinda gal I thought you were. I can’t tell which is more disappointing.”

“Well, I’ve fucked this up. I might as well be completely honest.”

You took a deep breath, emotions running high enough to give you not a boost of confidence, but a complete lack of ability to hold your tongue.

“Ok, fine. That’s not what I wanted. I wanted the burger. The big, fat, greasy burger. With everything on it. And a side of the truffle fries. And the garlic bread. I don’t know why that was all on the menu, this place seems too fancy. I guess they have it on there for people like me. People with an unrefined palate. People who are greedy. People who are f…”

You trailed off on the last word, very aware that not only were you dangerously close to insulting yourself, but Oswald also.

“I’m really sorry, Oswald. It’s… I should have been honest. It’s difficult for me to… I don’t like eating in front of people, usually. Not in public, and not anything that isn’t… y’know… healthy.”

Oswald wiped at his face with a napkin, and sat still for a few seconds, scrutinising you, looking to see if your words were truthful, although your shuddering breath and wet eyes suggested they were.

“Thank god for that, baby. I was worried I’d picked wrong. You shoulda just told me! You think I ain’t got a lil bit of that no good self-confidence block sometimes? I ain’t exactly the picture of a slender physique, y’know?”

He patted his stomach, smiling wide enough to pull a grin from you in return.

“I figured we’d eat together, keep each other company. I don’t date anyone I think can’t match me. You have no idea how worried I was when you were picking at that salad! You still hungry?”

Swallowing your nerves, you nodded gently, averting your eyes from him.

“C’mon then, lemme take you out for dessert.”

Oswald stood up from the table, offering you his hand to help you out of your seat. As he led you to the door he called out behind him.

“Thank you fellas, charge it to the card!”

You stayed mostly silent in the car, worried that Oswald was still wrestling with his opinion of you. Lying, pretending to be someone you weren’t, making him think he was wrong. Those all felt like cardinal sins of dating someone as amazing as he was, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he bought you dessert and then took you home. In fact, you expected it at this point. Though you weren’t sure what you thought would happen. It seemed unlikely that you’d get anything more out of him, he had been a complete gentleman the whole evening. No overkill on the flirting, kept his hands, and his eyes, to himself. Maybe, if you had been lucky, or hadn’t messed everything up, he would have given you a goodnight kiss. But now, you felt like it was a miracle he would even give you a ride home.

“Wait here, sweetheart, I’ll be right back.”

The car was stopped by the curb next to a little bakery you had walked by maybe once or twice on your way into the nicer side of town. You’d been so wrapped up in your own thoughts you hadn’t even noticed. From the window, you could see Oswald, laughing and talking to the woman behind the counter. He seemed to know everyone. Or, he was so personable that everyone he met instantly liked him and felt like they had a rapport. You wondered why it was so difficult for you to feel like that, though you did feel comforted by his presence. You chalked it up to your own insecurities, convinced you’d never be good enough for someone like him.

As he exited the building, he smiled, holding up two small, white paper bags and handing them to you as he got in the car.

“What’s this?”

“Cream donuts. Best in town. Best on this coast. Best in the world maybe. They’re my favourite, and I thought you’d like to try them, since you’re sweet, and round yourself.”

Blushing, you bit the inside of your cheek to suppress the high pitched squeal that threatened to ruin the cool exterior you were clinging onto.

“Thank you, Ozzie.”

“Ozzie?”

“Sorry! Oswald! I didn-”

“No, no, I like that. Sweetheart, you can call me whatever you like, I ain’t complaining.”

With that, he pulled out into the road and headed to your apartment, following your directions as he made the quick journey through the dark streets. When the car was stopped, he got out and opened the door for you, walking you up the steps and stopping at the front door. He was standing too far away for you to lean in and kiss him, as you were so desperate to do. It felt awkward, but you persevered. You had to speak. Without risk, there was no reward.

“Well, this is me. Would you… like to come in? I can make us coffee and we can eat our cream donuts?”

“Nothing has ever sounded better, toots.”

You smiled, unlocking the heavy front door and considering what that meant. Did he really want to spend more time with you, or was he just being polite? You couldn’t tell with him, he seemed so nice, so sweet. It wouldn’t surprise you if he agreed to marry you, and have kids with you, and retire to the Italian coast with you just out of his desire to be polite. Alternatively, it meant that he was coming into your apartment, fully aware of the implications behind that as an after date activity. So it really seemed, even though your brain fought against it, that he was into you.

Stepping in through the door, you held it open and stepped to the side against the wall to make room for Oswald. As you walked away, you tripped, feeling yourself being tugged back at your ankle by something that had latched onto your shoe. Stumbling forwards, you saw everything happen in slow motion, preparing to fall flat on your face, but instead found yourself limping into Oswald’s arms as he caught you. Looking up to him, his charming smile and breath of relief made your heart flutter more than the anticipation of the pain of thudding against the floor had. Looking down as you steadied yourself, you muttered your annoyance.

“Oh, shit…”

Oswald had caught you in time, making sure you didn’t fall and make a complete ass of yourself as you entered the building, but when you looked down to see what you had caught yourself on, you noticed that the little clasp on the strap of your shoe had bent backwards, snagging on a loose nail in the wall.

“Aw, I really liked these.”

“Wait there, sweetheart, lemme get that.”

It took you by complete surprise as Oswald knelt on one knee on the filthy ground, tarnishing the suit pants that you were sure cost more than a month of your rent plus utilities, just to help you out. It was incredibly chivalrous, dauntingly romantic, and yet managed to be so endearing and adorable. His fingers betrayed his cool, confident exterior as they trembled when they made contact with your skin. With one hand on your ankle and the other lifting the toe of your shoe, he lifted your leg up, balancing the sole on his other knee, and began working on the buckle.

“Musta got bent when you got knocked into the wall, toots. I can fix it though, gimme a sec.”

Still shaking, with what you could only assume were nerves, Oswald bent the little piece of metal back into shape and pulled the ankle strap back through the buckle. He gazed up at you, a question on his lips, but was stopped by his inability to form a coherent sentence. From this angle, you looked… he couldn’t really find the words, not even in his own mind. There was a noise akin to a pained groan filling his head, a desperate need to scream out, which he was sure would only translate to a pitiful whine if he dared try to say anything. You stared down at him, eyes wide as you waited for him to finish, or to speak. His hands held your lower leg, palm holding onto your soft skin as he stared back up to you. From down here, you looked angelic. The ceiling lights of the dingy entrance of your building, irritating and far too bright usually, seemed like a halo, an aura of beauty surrounding you. Your thighs, your stomach, your breasts, all of them more pronounced as your leg was hitched up into them. When you smiled, a look of slight concern, he watched as your cheeks pushed into your eyes, your double chin more pronounced as you leaned back. It had him struck completely dumb.

Trying to maintain his gentlemanly approach that he’d upheld the entire evening, he averted his eyes from your body, trying to push the thoughts of how each of those curves and soft protrusions would feel weighing down on him as he held you in bed, but for his efforts, he was only punished further. Out of the corner of his eye, and pulling his gaze in like a trap, he noticed that the way your leg was balanced on his mean that the slit of your dress was pulled wide. And from that exact angle, he could make out the front of your underwear. They covered everything, but that didn’t stop him from indulging in thoughts of a more carnal nature. How those thick, plump lips would feel around him, how soft your chubby mound would be against his nose as he dove in for a taste.

Clearing his throat and wobbling slightly, he lowered your leg to the floor and steadied himself, cheeks red as he chastised himself for taking such a long look at what was below your dress.

“There you go, doll. Good as new. But lemme get your size and I’ll have a new pair at your door by tomorrow, ok?”

You giggled, knowing there was no point in refusing his gesture, and took his hand as you guided him towards the stairs to your apartment. Taking it slow, so as not to rush Oswald given that his leg brace meant he was at a slightly slower natural pace than you, was actually pleasant. It meant you weren’t having to rush to pretend you could keep pace with ‘fitter’ people, and you didn’t have to hold your breath for fear of sounding like you were struggling. Everything felt right, like you were at the pace you should be at with Oswald.

Oswald, though, was more than happy to trail behind you as you made your way up the four flights of stairs to your apartment. Sure, his leg was getting a bit sore, his knees stiffening up, but it was worth it for the view. All evening, he had managed to steal glances, sneak a little peek at your body as you leaned in to speak to him, or shifted in your chair, or leaned back in the passenger seat of his car. How your lips had closed around your fork, how your eyes instantly shot to his as he spoke to you, how your cheeks puffed up when you smiled. The way your breasts spilled ever so slightly up over the top of the dress, the way your thighs spread out on a surface, the way your stomach hung and moved as you bent over. Only brief glimpses, but he had seen so much. And now, he had a free show.

Holding your coat in your arm, since it wasn’t needed for the brief ride home, you made your way up the steps in just your dress. The fabric clung to every curve, every protrusion of your soft form. Each stair you climbed, each move of your legs, your thighs jiggling, brushing against each other. The way your ass bounced, tightening and loosening as you stretched the muscles to carry you. By the time you both had reached your floor, he was having to try and picture some of the more horrific crime scenes he’d been a part of just to keep himself from going over the edge. If he got any stiffer, he wouldn’t be able to walk to your door.

With great effort, and with all of the strength he could muster, he managed to suppress his cruder instincts and desires and shuffled to your door, following you through it and sitting down on the sofa when you offered him a seat.

“Thanks, sweetheart. Beautiful place you got here, you got it lookin’ nice, real nice.”

You were hanging up both of your coats, but you turned to question his sanity, knowing that he likely had storage closets in his home that were bigger and better decorated, when you noticed that he looked a little flushed.

“You ok, Oswald? You look a little-”

“Nah, nah, I’m fine sweetheart! Just came up those stairs a little too quick is all, I’m not no spring chicken remember! And it’s hot! Or is it hot in here?”

“I haven’t had heat in here for a week, landlord is putting it off. But… I can open a window?”

Oswald nodded silently. You couldn’t help but wonder if it was making him nervous, the looming threat of having to kiss you. Or… the anticipation of kissing you? He’d come all the way up here, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes fell on your body, flitting away when he thought you were about to catch him, not realising you already had. The thought alone made you blush, so you turned from him quickly, opening the window above the sink and picking up the bags from the bakery as you took a quiet breath to calm yourself.

“Dessert?”

“Thank you sweetheart, you’re a doll.”

Oswald took his donut with a smile and a gleeful sigh, and you giggled as you pulled yours from the bag. It looked amazing. He’d definitely picked right. And the way he tore into it, devouring almost half of it in one bite with a soft moan, eyes rolling back in his head, you realised how silly you had been earlier to be embarrassed in front of him. You’d only made him feel worse, clearly. Oswald had no issue making a mess of himself in front of you, and he waved his hand, encouraging you to eat, which suggested he had no issue with you making a mess either.

Having been given the permission to do so, you indulged yourself, taking a large bite of donut and with a full mouth, moaning a note of satisfaction. You savoured it on your tongue, and without intending to do so, ran your tongue seductively across your lips to ensure that nothing went to waste. But you were quick to pop it back into your mouth when you noticed Oswald gazing at you intently, his eyes unblinking.

“It could mean anything… it could…”

But you could sense something behind the gaze, something definitely in tune with how you found yourself looking towards him over the course of the evening. Enamoured, potentially even filled with lustful thoughts as he watched you. But the intensity of his stare slowly dissipated, his lips curling up slowly into a gentle smile. The change in expression concerned you, but not enough that you didn’t smile back, finding the bravery to try and ascertain what, exactly, was on his mind.

“What’s up?”

Oswald let out a soft chuckle as he looked to you, covering his mouth as he finished the bite of donut he was working on. The laughter worried you, more than putting you at ease, and you only got more flustered as he reached for you.

“Hang, on sweetheart, you got a little something…”

“What? Oh, shoot, have I made a mess?”

You attempted to wipe at the corners of your mouth, worrying that you were making more of a fool out of yourself the longer it stayed. Taking his thumb, a sweet, mischievous smile on his face, Oswald stroked your cheek, removing the dollop of cream that had found itself there. He held his thumb out, displaying the offending smear to you. Without thinking, and in a move that still confused you even afterwards, when you had time to consider what possessed you to follow through with the action, you leaned forward and wrapped your lips around his thumb, licking the cream from it and sitting back. As soon as you had swallowed the sweet flavour on your tongue, you realised what you had done. Your cheeks flushed a bright pink almost immediately, and your eyes widened, threatening to prickle with tears as you watched Oswald stare back at you in the same silent shock.

“Jesus christ, sweetheart.”

His face was still, mouth straight, eyes wide with disbelief. You couldn’t quite read his tone. You had to say something, anything, to fill the silence. It was too quiet, and the longer it went on, the worst it would be. So you conjured up some words of apology.

“Oh my god, Oswald, I am so sorry! It’s just…”

You weighed up the options before you, and decided to cut all your losses and try making a joke. Be yourself, be goofy, be ‘unrefined’. Be. Yourself.

“... it’s a good donut.”

He laughed, his eyes bright and his smile wide and sincere, soft and gentle, filled with genuine happiness. You were finally getting comfortable around him, and as arousing as it was to have you sucking on his finger, he found it even more tantalising knowing you were finally opening up to him.

“You got more, toots. Hold on, lemme get that. Just a second…”

He fumbled around in his pocket for a moment, pulling out a purple cotton handkerchief, monogrammed in gold, and wiping his brow on it. Sitting down on the sofa, he took a deep breath as he wiped the streak of cream from your cheek, not really listening to you as you spoke.

“Oh, you dropped something, Oswald. Let me get it.”

Bending down to reach for the small, glinting square just below the sofa, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment.

“... lemme get that…”

You’d been so hopeful that he was going to lean in to kiss you, or, if you could really imagine something so bold, to lick the sweet, sticky mark from your flushed skin. It was beginning to feel like the intentions were never there. He might be attracted to you, you could concede to that by now, but he seemed to be far too much of a gentleman to take things further, especially on the first date.

But just as you silently prayed that there would be a second date, and a third, and, dare you dream, a fourth, your fingers tapped on the metallic wrapper under the chair, picking it up and turning it around as you brought it closer to you.

“Oh, sweetheart, I am… so sorry. You can just give that here.”

Your heart skipped a beat, enough that you found yourself struggling for a breath. Between your fingers, with Oswald reaching for it desperately, you held a condom. It wasn’t exactly a definitive symbol of intent, but it was enough to give you hope. You never imagined that the glint of the golden wrapper could have aroused you so quickly, but it had. And as Oswald took it from you, you found yourself smiling slightly in return to his nervous grin.

“I didn’t mean anything by that, toots… I am so sorry, really.”

“You didn’t mean anything by that?”

Stuttering, letting you see him truly nervous for the first time that evening, he tried to respond.

“Well, uh… n-not nothin’, kid. I mean, it’s there, isn’t it. It was in my pocket. I’m not exactly the kind of guy who walks around with one ‘just in case’.”

“So there was… intent?”

So bold, but so nervous, and yet you kept prodding him for more information. The way his cheeks and nose had begun to turn pink let you feel an ounce of control, like you were finally able to take charge.

“So… a gentleman like you doesn’t carry them around for nothing, but he’s smart enough to be prepared on the off chance…?”

You spoke so softly, so slowly, sultry and sweet, enough that Oswald’s smile began to spread out, realising that you weren’t put off by his little faux pas. Regaining his composure, he returned to his usual, composed self and shuffled forward on the sofa towards you.

“I do like to plan for every eventuality. I go out on a date with a beautiful dame, I don’t expect anything in return. But I’d be damned if I showed up to your place and had to turn down any opportunity.”

Your own confidence was dwindling, if only slightly, and you broke the facade of the flirtatious tease to beg for some reassurance, as subtly as you could.

“And… you hoped for an opportunity… with me?”

You hadn’t known Oswald for very long, but it felt like he could read you like a book. He clapped his hand over his mouth and drew it down, shaking his head as he looked over your body.

“Are you kidding, toots?”

“I guess… I just wasn’t sure if I’d be what you… expected… or wanted…”

“We lookin’ at the same thing here? You think I wasn’t hoping for even just a chance? With that face? And those legs?And that ass? And that sweet, cushiony stomach you got? All wrapped in that fuckin’ dress? Oh, ho, ho, don’t ven get me started on the dress.”

Finally believing that Oswald had consciously and willingly chosen you, you decided to take what you wanted, or at least, ask for it nicely.

“Actually… I think I would like to get you started.”

With a coy smile, you batted your eyelashes at him, and he moved forward to the edge of the sofa, his hands lifting yours from your sides and kissing the knuckles.

“I’m glad you wore it. I didn’t wanna make a big deal outta it, felt like I was being controlling or something… And I knew if I told you how good it looked on you, I just wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t have been right for me to spend an hour of our date telling you how I liked the way the fabric hung on you…”

He pulled you closer, tugging on your hands, lifting them again and turning them over to kiss your wrists. One placed on each one, a shiver coursing through your veins.

“... how each little curve, each bit of you is highlighted, teasing me, begging me to run my hands over them and feel them…”

Oswald’s hands skimmed over the ridges and curves of your sides, palms pressing into each of the outward bulges of soft flesh as he moaned in appreciation. The sounds he made were muffled by your neck, where his lips were held in a flurry of passionate kisses, his tongue lapping over your skin as he tasted you, savoured you. Each pause to catch his breath he spent whispering his intentions and desires for the evening.

“... how warm you look, how you would feel…”

His hands moved around to your lower back, fingers hovering there before he let them slip down, palms over your cheeks, cupping at your rear. He pulled you slightly, knocking you off balance, stumbling and almost falling onto him, your breasts making contact with his face before you steadied yourself. But Ozzie leant forward, placing his prominent, distinct nose between your breasts, then his cheeks, moaning and sighing as the soft, gentle and ample tissue that comforted him.

The haze of arousal came over you, your body no longer being controlled by your overthinking brain, your desires free to rule, and your hands found his thick thighs, travelling up them until your fingers struck the metal of his belt buckle, quickly, but not effectively. Taking his hands from you, Oswald lifted yours from him, unbuckling the belt on his own. His eyes flitted up to meet yours as he unzipped his fly, eyebrows raising in a question. You answered with a smile and a subtle nod, trying to decide whether it would be polite to watch or look away, but found your eyes trained to the spot. Breath hitching. Mouth falling open ever so slightly as he took his cock out, average in length, but thick, already stiff in his hand.

Ozzie’s hands were back on you, his fingers tickling at the back of your thigh, gently edging you closer to him, pushing up the skirt of your dress, exposing more of your skin. Under the fabric, his thumb hooked onto the waistband of your underwear, teasing your panties down as he chuckled, lustfully.

“You wanna take a seat, let me see if you feel how I thought?”

Usually, you’d worry about the position, the weight, the worry that you wouldn’t look good in position, that having someone look up at you would only highlight your double chin. But, strangely enough, not only did you not care when those thoughts quickly entered your conscience, you got excited over them, the notion that your body would be there, viewed, and worshipped by Oswald Cobblepot, of all people.

As you began to lower yourself down, he motioned for you to pause for a moment, reaching to the other side of the sofa and picking up the condom. He pursed his lips as he rolled it down over his thick length, leaning back as you eased down onto it. The moment it touched against your lips, filling you, inch by inch, until your thighs were settled against his.

Straddling him, you felt his hands cupping at your thighs, caressing down your back, gently grabbing at you to pull you closer and assist in your movements. He couldn’t settle on a place to touch you, his hands taking in every inch of your body, fingers digging into your thighs and moving to your hips to cling to you, moving you back and forth as you rocked yourself on his cock. Each motion felt better than anything had before, each soft groan he made, the way his lips curled into a snarling grin with pleasure sending you further into ecstasy.

His hands travelled to the nape of your neck, curving round your shoulders and peeling at the thin straps of the dress, watching the silk fabric slip down over your chest, eventually exposing your breasts to him. With no effort to hold back his boyish glee, he threw his head back and moaned.

“Mother of god you look fuckin’ fantastic!”

While you rolled your hips forwards and backwards, relishing in the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you, Oswald’s large fingers pinched each of your nipples, teasing at them as he licked his lips, delighting in the way it made you whine, biting down on your lower lip, your smile still visible.

The movements between you were frantic, reaching the apex of the heated moment you were sharing. As the climax approached, you felt Oswald move his hand from you, bringing it down in a swift, sharp cracking motion against your upper thigh, his fingers settling on your rear as he gripped and winked.

“You think you can get a little bit faster, toots? A bit dirtier to see me through?”

By the time he was finished speaking you were already rutting into him, animalistic as you determined to give him what he wanted. He was hardly a gentleman now, as he smacked your ass, jutting his hips upwards, pumping his length inside of you as he wailed out.

“That’s it, baby… good girl, good girl, god, you’re such a good girl for me, huh? Oh yeah… fuck… fuck!”

He pulled you onto his chest, still inside of you as he thrust his hips up, firmly, but slowly, letting your top half rest against him as you felt him cumming, then relaxing, holding you on him, still inside of you. You had no intentions of moving, until he decided it was uncomfortable. You were content to be balanced precariously on his body, your toes pushing you up from the floor, face resting against his still clothed chest, listening to him hum in satisfaction as he caught his breath.

Letting out a soft chuckle, he leaned down to kiss your head, stroking your hair as he settled back down flat.

“Every eventuality, kid. As if this wasn’t what I wanted all along.”

#reeves!verse #finnie writes #oswald cobblepot #the penguin #the batman 2022 #colin farrell penguin #the batman fanfic #the batman 2022 fic #oswald cobblepot x reader #oswald cobblepot x you

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pryllee · 9 months ago

Text

7 minutes in heaven, or 7 hours.

Blade x AFAB! Reader

Dubcon, stomach bulge, kinda degradation/praise kink, slight mean blade with a sprinkle of softheartedness, cunnilungus/fingering, riding, jealous reader, kinda jealous blade ”ugly body” rejections whatever mentioned in start, hickeys/marking, tit sucking, bit of possessiveness in both so the feeling can be mutual, small breeding kink mention

A/N: I get pretty awkward and cringey while trying to write fuck parts so I hope anyone who reads this finds this good. And maybe I'll make HCs with him taking care of a child next time... If anyone wants that. 🥲

—

As depressed you already were, it already sucked even more with each rejection that slapped you at the face. You slammed the can of alcohol onto the table as Blade just watched leaning his head onto the wall.

"Ugh these fuckin' asses..." You held onto your head annoyed as hell,

"You know, we should be heading back now." He scanned you, before looking away again to try avoid your ’fiery fists’

You complained, slamming a fist onto the table almost making it break. "Oh c'mon don't make it worse than it already is! These idiots have the nerve to call my body unattractive, they might've just had atleast one more kiss before they died, no? Not like they were any better..." Silently whispering the last part.

Your brows furrowed noticing him staring off into the distance, probably at someone. You tried to find the direction he was looking in, and found a pretty girl almost your height, but her curves really showed through that waitress uniform.

A small ’oh’ of disappointment almost escaped your lips, making your eye twitch. "Maybe your right. Lets go." You grabbed the can with half of alcohol left.

Your walking almost felt like you were stomping leaving Blade barely confused, more like unfazed as he found this normal.

—

You noticed the place felt a little lonely, you didn't hear much till you advanced inside further and noticed some of the stellaron hunters and probably new recruits due to some unfamiliar faces along with Kafka on the side and Silverwolf. "Hi, [ Y/N ]. Nice to see you've brought Blade along with you." Kafka smiled as Silverwolf blew gum up, tapping away on her gaming console.

"Whats going on? They playin' spin the bottle?" You pointed drunkly with drool almost oozing out of your mouth. "Hmm...—seven minutes in heaven or whatever." She waved her hand as her back leaned against a pillar.

What is with these people leaning against shit? Just how disinterested really are they?

"Lemme participate." You spoke as you squeezed in a spot in the circle pushing some people aside joining the weird circle formation that felt like a cult. "What about you, Bladie? Won't you join her too?"

"Not interested. I don't really care about those type of feelings." He was about to walk away in the way both of you came, till Kafka offered him something.

"Hmm, I'm sure Silverwolf can secure you some time with her?" Pointing at her as he noticed a little wheel thing that controlled the bottle. "Unless you want her to give herself up to someone else, that is."

He clenched a fist tightly, loosening it quickly as he just also squeezed in a spot opposite of where you are.

He watched the previous can you held be thrown away assuming you already finished it or didn't and just hated the taste now. As the bottle kept spinning for some time, you wondered when it would land on you and choose a decent looking dude. Till it finally did. But then landed on Blade.

Your expression of happiness quickly went away realizing who else it landed on, would he even want to do spicy with you? If anything he'd probably rather do it with that stupid girl he stared at earlier. Maybe I should kill her. Whoops, thoughts got a little offtrack there.

The person on your right was nudging your shoulder to follow Blade in, as you quickly took a glance at Kafka feeling like something was up. And you were right cause something really was up. You followed him in, as he locked the door behind you both.

"So what do we do? Play cards? Or should we find that girls number?" You scoffed in annoyance wondering how the fuck you both even got paired up. Not like he'd find you anything more than friends.

You once planned to confess to him but as you were looking for him, you overheard some parts of a ’private’ conversation.

"Bladie, what do you prefer in a girl?" Kafka smiled, asking him. He just looked away as he looked in your direction, it felt like he saw you, but then it felt like he didn't as it really was just an open corridor thing.

"I don't know. I don't care about such things... But probably someone good with a sword and is stronger than me." He mumbled the last part, seemingly unsure of his words infront of Kafka as she'd probably do some weird shit.

"Oh? I thought you liked girls like [ Y/N ]?" She pried. "No... We're just co-workers, shes too bold for me too." He sighed, speaking in a low tone.

Just co-workers? Ha, is he fucking insane? Not even friends... But literal co-workers? You walked away holding onto your broken heart with tears bubbling up a little but you just wiped them away deciding to push your feelings away.

"Hmm... Poor [ Y/N ], seems pretty upset that she thought she was already rejected without the chance to even ask directly..." Kafka whispered in a low tone, glancing in the same direction he looked in previously.

"...Excuse me?" He asked, yet only got a headshake and ’nothing.’ in response. Did ’Elio’ also foresee this? How come Blade wouldn't get to know though? Well I guess he wouldn't need to since it's not related to the Astral Express or Stelle.

—

"Girls number? Who exactly are you talking about?" He asked, making the atmosphere even more awkward. "Oh please, don't act like I didn't see how you stared down that girl with ’beautiful’ curves in that stupid bar." You scoffed, crossing your arms.

"Is this seven minutes in heaven, or seven minutes in hell listening to you complain? And I didn't stare her down. I was just looking at her because ’curves’ were related in the stupid topic. You're the one who just stomped away like a furious little kid." His words hit you hard into the face, "And we aren't dating, I don't see how you're so pissed off about it."

You were practically seething in anger as you just turned around to go through the rooms backdoor to go outside. "And where are you going?" You felt him grip onto your waist, which sent shivers up your spine. "None of your business." You tried to push his hands off yet his grip only tightened even more.

"Blade..– Let go." Your breathing slowly became more and more hitched as the gap between you closed. Suddenly the lights went out and you heard Kafka announce something that made everyone walk away.

"Have fun, you two." Kafka whispered to herself, although she knew you couldn't hear.

"Hm? What happened, Kafka?" Silverwolf confusingly followed her from behind.

His chest pressed against your back, feeling his breathe becoming heavier as his hand slid down to your inner thigh, making you try to squirm out of his grasp almost instantly. "Blade stop—nnh.."

A soft low moan was made out as he caressed your clothed sex, you held onto the door infront of you, "Do you want me, [ Y/N ]?" He whispered into your ear. As short silence filled the room, he spun you around, lifting you up with his arms with your back pressing against the now locked door. "Answer me, you whore."

His eyes bored into yours. Your eyes darted everywhere trying to find a way to escape or somewhere decent to look at. "Whats with the act? How come you're so shy now?" He teased, chuckling, leaning into your lips. His tongue mixing with yours as you held onto him for Aeons sake, digging your nails into his back.

He pulled away with a string of saliva connecting from both of your lips, before leaning back down biting down on your tops button spitting each one out. "Do you really need to destroy my top? I could've just undo it by myself."

This felt like a dream come true, yet you also wished you would just wake up from it, it feels so wrong yet so right.

"Hmm... Can't have a pretty girl like you falling onto the ground now can we?" He held you with one arm now, with the other needily pushing the remains of your dignity away to reveal your chest. Yet another obstacle arised due to your bra. "Shouldn't we...—stop here? I'm sure it's already been seven minutes.." He shook his head, just pushing your bra down.

"Mmh, how cute, you're the one who wanted this for so long yet you're the one who also wants this to stop already." He bit down on your nipple, suckling on it like he tried to milk you,

"Maybe I should breed you with kids so I can suck alot of milk out of you, you'd probably like that, wouldn't you?" You moaned softly from time to time, covering your mouth with one hand as the other travelled up his hair,

"Mmngh... I— maybe...nnnh" you whimpered. His mouth was suckling one with one hand cupping the other and flicking at your now hard nipples leaving hickeys. You sobbed out his name softly, "I assume thats a yes? Can't believe how turned on you are when I'm only playing with your tits."

The previous hand that was cupping your boob slid down your pants, pushing it down along with your panty,

"Be a dear and say my name, maybe I'll help with that wetness down there then." His gloved finger ran down your slit, making you shudder,

"blade..." You mumbled

"Can't hear ya."

"Ugh... blade," You looked away embarrassed, your nails again digging into his back.

"Hmm?"

"Oh for Aeons sake, Blade please just fuck me!" You cried out in annoyance, the embarrassment was more than enough.

"Good girl." He lifted you over to a table, laying you on it with you facing him, "Wasn't so hard now was it?" He took his gloves off, pulling your pants off exposing your legs and cunt.

The tension got heavier with the bare cold hitting against your chest and lower half. He aligned two fingers with your hole, slowly pushing it in. "Be gentle—please..." You looked away,

"Mhm... And why should I?" He cooed "Could this be your first time?" You slightly nodded, as he just looked back at your hole, pushing his fingers in deeper forcing a moan out of you; "Ughh..—Blade! Nnh!" You cried, arching your back miserably, it hurt like a bitch yet slowly felt good.

He can't believe he almost gave your virginity up to someone else other than him, the fact you could've been moaning out someone elses name really is annoying.

His fingers thrusted in and out at a painfully slow pace, your walls tightened vigorously and it was so easy for him to access with how wet and slick your pussy already was for him. The pace got faster, with his fingers slightly becoming curled with each passing thrust adding another finger in.

"Fuck! Blade—nngh.. shit..." You cussed out clawing at the table feeling a knot in your tummy loosening, you came all over his fingers making a mess on the table. "Look at what a fucking mess you made, what a slut getting off with my fingers alone." He shoved his fingers down your mouth, onto your tongue,

"Lick it." You moaned softly to try and tease him, along with some sucking. "Ha, maybe I shouldn't have let you cum that easily." He flicked your clit making you yelp a little loudly.

The bulge in his pants was starting to become unbearable, but atleast it's time to actually have some intercourse. He undid his belt, slipping his pants off pulling you closer to him, sitting infront.

You became a tad bolder, holding onto his thigh and with the other hand you held onto his arm. "Sit still, pretty girl." he reprimanded,

He finally slipped his boxers down grabbing onto your ass lifting you up pressing your now dry saliva-ridden tits against his chest slightly with him holding his length, "Uhhm... Are you sure it's going inside of me?" You stared nervously at his length "Yes, and I'll make it fit if you're so worried about that." He spat on his hands, rubbing around it.

"Don't girls usually do that by sucking it?" You ask perplexed, "Mmh... They do, but I'm sure the both of us can't wait to start this fuckfest."

He chuckled again lowly, burrowing his head into the crook of your collarbone kissing it leaving a hickey as he blindly shoved it inside of your hole making your back arch, and tremble. His mouth travelled down again to your nipple, suckling on it and drawing circles around it with his tongue. He stuck his hand in place on your stomach feeling the bulge disappear and appear each thrust he does.

"Fuck—" low moans rolled off your tongue, "... Feels so good, Blade.." He sloppily thrusted inside, trying to find your g-spot, finally noticing you tighten arching your backing vigorously at one of the thrusts, thrusting again making you moan loudly.

"Shh. Do you want someone to hear us?" He shoved a finger in your mouth, spitting onto your tongue making you swallow it. "Such a whore, swallowing my spit so easily." He leaned in for another kiss, mixing saliva together once again sloppily thrusting rolling his tongue around with yours.

His thrusts got faster 'n deeper yet somehow still managed to hit your G-spot everytime, you threw your legs around him, and arms around his neck smashing your lips against him. "Fuck—I'm so close [ Y/N ]... He mumbled lowly with one of his hands travelling down to rub your clit furiously.

You creamed around his cock, liquids dripping down your thighs and his shaft furiously feeling yourself coming closer to your climax. You burrowed your head into his neck, messing his collar up and leaving small hickeys as you bit at him.

"Really what a whore, I can't believe you could've been like this with someone else." His words made you scoff slightly, "Neither can I." Grunts could be heard under his breathe and your moans getting louder and bolder till both of you came at the same time, white liquid filled your womb yet you still felt his length barely softening,

You tightened around him hard you could feel his cock pulsing inside of you, "Mmh.. Not done yet." He whispered, blowing into your ear having reality settle into your very veins.

"Don't tell me you still have stamina..." You said in a tired tone. "I do, infact I still do have enough till morning." He laughed leaving another hickey on your collarbone, biting on it feeling proud of all the markings hes made on you.

—

Light shined through the blinds, quite literally almost blinding you till you realized you have no idea where the fuck you are. You were in some weird house, in someones bed. You got up and noticed you were naked, hurriedly finding clothes to wear.

Till you noticed the closet was full of mens wear, yet you just grabbed whatever looked comfortable and strided out of that room... Which was probably Blades room. You noticed a mirror right when you stepped out, and saw hickeys everywhere on your collarbone and neck. "So it really wasn't a dream..."

"What wasn't a dream?" You saw him appear from the side holding a cup of coffee in different clothes for the first time. "Also you're wearing my clothes. They seem too big for you." He remarked, "Well obviously, I have no idea where the hell you threw my clothes off too and the tops buttons were torn off by you."

"Calm down you two, we don't wanna stir up trouble in this house, otherwise we'll be found out and chased out. Also stop with the love quarreling." Silverwolf sighed also in different clothes. "Okay why is everyone in different clothes for the first time? Am I going insane?" You rubbed your eyes.

"Now we may wear the same outfit for a long time but we definitely wear something else at night to sleep comfortably, thank you." She replied in an ’isn't it obvious?’ tone. Blade just leaned on the wall sipping the cup of coffee.

Silverwolf then seemed to remember something, hurriedly tip toeing over to you, "How was it?" She whispered in your ear. "What? How was what? I don't know what you're talking about." You flushed red running away to find the bathroom.

"The bathrooms the other way." He yelled loudly in an unfazed tone. "I KNEW THAT!!!" You screamed dashing the other way.

"Oh dear Blade... What exactly did you do to her?" "Nothing. Don't go thinking weird stuff about me now." He took another sip of his coffee before following in your tracks to also go to the ’bathroom.’

——

#prylleewrites—✮#hsr blade x reader #blade x reader #blade x reader hsr #blade x reader smut #hsr blade x reader smut #blade x reader hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader smut #honkai star rail x reader #stellaron hunters

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justgrey · 9 months ago

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Hello! I’d like to request the mercenaries with a fem mercenary reader who is a shapeshifter and has a pretty chaotic personality? Basically Nimona from the movie Nimona lol

Watched the movie finally, and now I'm gay for ballister. Thanks for that xoxo. be on the lookout for something on him because i want to chew him and hit him like a tennis ball

Also, it's safe to say I got a little stupid with this one 💀

Mercs with a chaotic! reader

Warnings : swearing, light mentions of gore, talk of body parts, medic.

CHAOS CHAOS CHAOS *jevil laughter*

Probably get along really well with Pyro and Scout not gonna lie because Pyro likes to burn shit (Even though I'm pretty sure they think they're spreading joy and colour) and Scout is pretty hyper in general, willing to go along with anything as long as it's fun.

*burns down barn*

"huddah huh huu hud."

"Yeah, loving the colour too, pally. Really makes the wood boom." *evil chuckles*

As soon as Pyro learns about your shapeshifting ability, they're all over you. They want you to play 3 different characters at their tea parties simultaneously and transform into a unicorn so that they can ride you into battle and fulfill their wildest dreams

"Hud hudda hu hubuh huuuuh HUDDAH!!"

"Okay, okay, fine!" *transforms into a unicorn* "Get on."

*excited hu noises*

"HUDDAHHHH!!"

Besties 💗🌈🔥✨️

Some of the older and quieter mercenaries are NOT gonna be having a field day with you and your silly little personality.

Sniper hates it THE MOST. He doesn't like people that much in general and can barely keep up with the hyperactive chaos that is you, so he mainly sticks to watching you burn shit down from afar.

"Did'ya really have ta' do that much?"

"Yeah. Why, you not liking it, pissboy?"

"..."

"That's what I thought. Don't be a hero, buddy."

Although he doesn't appreciate your snarky attitude, he likes how you can shapeshift. He really likes animals and will sometimes scope in on you when you transform, nodding with approval and whispering a little, "cool" that he hopes nobody hears.

Spy thinks you're a nuisance around the base but definitely sees the usefulness in your shapeshifting abilities since he kinda almost does the same damn thing, just with his goofy masks. He respects you for that, if anything, at all.

Do not ever expect to replace him or get remotely close to him in espionage, though. If you are at the same level as Nimona, you're not great at directly impersonating humans, and he will tease you about it.

"What was that, today?

"What was what?"

"The 'Oh Mon deu! Ack! Oohh! I dropped my baguette' if that was meant to be an impersonation of me, know that it was terrible, and my lawyer will be contacting you."

"I dunno, I think it was pretty accurate." *shrug*

Medic loves you. Sorry, not sorry. Loves you. Does get tired of you sometimes, but not all the time. He's generally also very *bzzz bzzz chaos organs* so he's happy to indulge in whatever you want to do which usually involves the absolute destruction of everything.

Medic is also incredibly fascinated by your shapeshifting ability. Do not sleep around this man while shape shifted because he's poking and prodding everywhere while you're out.

"Ohoho... how peculiar" *pokes open nerve*

"YEOUCH WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"

*nervous chuckle as he hides a bucket of blood and from your view*

Engineer tries to be that guiding light he thinks you need. He's a friend, a father figure, a colleague, whatever you need. He's a nice Southern gentleman with a slightly insane twist. Encourages you to be careful around the others, but if you aren't, he's not complaining. Makes the job easier if everyone listens.

Heavy is pretty chill with you. He's neither annoyed nor pleased that you're around. He relatively keeps to himself, medic, and his guns.

Actually, do not touch his gun. Do not pretend to be his gun either.

Soldier and Demo like your charisma. You can be a pretty fun drinking partner for demo, and a nice soldier when you're willing to follow orders (which isn't usually) but as long as you get the job done with as much destruction as possible, Soldier is saluting you almost as much as he does the American flag that is hanging next to his bed.

"ANOTHER GREAT DAY, TODAY! KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK AND I MIGHT RAISE YOUR STATUS, CADET!"

"SIR YES SIR! or something I dunno, fuck this is weird..."

*walks with soldier, ignoring the screams of the dammed behind you*

He makes you transform into an eagle and has you sit there on his arm for a while, admiring you fly. It's brought him close to tears on many occasions.

Whenever he gets married to Heavy's sister, Soldier is making sure that you are THERE as an Eagle. He'll pay you to fly across the sky and make majestic bird noises.

Overall, some very mixed experiences. But a fun concept either way.

#nimona #tf2 #team fortress two #tf2 x reader #tf2 scout #platonic tf2 #tf2 medic #team fortress two x reader #tf2 engineer #tf2 spy #tf2 pyro #tf2 demoman #tf2 heavy #tf2 sniper #tf2 soldier

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konigsblog · 1 year ago

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Hi! This is my first time asking something :D

Do you do anything, not nsfw? And if so, what would some random könig headcanons you agree with? Like habits and stuff you’d think he’d do? (does that make sense lmao)

If you just do nsfw you could make them nsfw headcanons.. Or just combine both aha

**HII.. i do write for sfw and fluff, as well as angst it's just not really requested as much as smut :) but here, hope you enjoy this!!! 🌙

silly könig headcannons

⭒ mentions of weed use, fluff.. 🌷🎀

⭒könig who prefers cats over dogs. they're quieter and calmer, has a ginger cat called ‘spice’ that's fiesty to new people. he loves the animal to death, and hands it to his oma when he's on deployment.

⭒i've mentioned this before, but i feel like könig was in a band as a kid, just a school one. he played the drums and was pretty emo in his teenager years...

⭒he sleeps in the weirdest positions. he'll either wake up with his body contorted into different ways, his arms above his head and across his chest with his legs intertwined with eachother.

⭒he's an easily jealous person, always top of his classes and getting 100% on his tests. his mother always wanted the best outcome for her son, so she was shocked when he decided to join the kommando spezialkräfte instead of becoming a doctor or a lawyer.

⭒has 100% attempted to get up but fell because his legs were stuck and tangled in his bedsheets.

⭒gets second hand embarrassment far too easily. he's cringing on the inside when someone does/says something stupid.

⭒absolutely hates the summer. it's horrible; everybody's sweaty and stinks, missions make him want to peal his skin off. definitely prefers autumn/winter.

⭒his favourite food to eat whilst sick is soup, a special homemade soup him and his mother made together while growing up. her own special recipe that he only teaches to his closest of friends.

⭒loves late night conversations. they're so deep and understanding, chatting for hours 'til your jaw hurts and the sun his peaking through the curtains.

⭒either drinks black coffee, really bitter. or drinks the most sugary coffee ever, no in-between. (tell me your opinions)

⭒is a morning person. gets up early and has his breakfast, something quick and easy, like toast or porridge (oatmeal), has a morning shower 'nd everything. (i love adding salt to my porridge/oatmeal)

⭒hates when people say germany and austria are the same. will definitely have a whole rant about the differences 'til you understand fully.

⭒smokes weed a lot, pretty much an addict. he says it's to calm his nerves down but he gradually started doing it more and more often. a stoner fs.

⭒enjoys movies, a lot. he loves sitting down with a blanket beside him, covered in orange cat hair. will probably make a bowl of popcorn to eat whilst watching, but ends up eating it all before he's even 30 minutes in.

big, bear hugs. we all know that the big, brute and towering man gives amazing hugs, but he really wants to lay atop of you, to cage you with his warmth.

⭒has a tendency to over share, rants sometimes while pretending to be confident, finding anything to talk about before feeling a bit uncomfortable with what he'd said.

⭒isn't shy. it's my biggest pet peeve when people make könig out to be someone shy, scared, ect.. he's not shy, he's socially anxious, but that doesn't make him quiet. he either puts on a front and pretends to be confident with a cocky, loud personality.

⭒absolutely adores milk. he drinks like a gallon in two days, that's why he's 6’10.

⭒enjoys mint chocolate chip ice cream, hates strawberry, especially if they have chunks. (self projecting)

⭒enjoys doing the dishes, finds it satisfying. until he touches food and gags.

⭒avid banana hater, the texture to the taste, everything about it makes him feel ill.

⭒listens to music for hours, usually something rock or heavy metal, loud music in his ears and the loud explosions gives him some hearing damage.

⭒usually smells woodsy, fresh cut trees and vanilla.

⭒germaphobe. doesn't like being near people when they're sick and will avoid them, probably because he gets sick too easily, despite having a strong immune system.

⭒isn't a very emotional person, he has sympathy for others but can't express it through tears and emotions. he's cold and aggressive to the recruits, blaming them for his issues because he struggles taking blame and fault for situations and needs a punching bag.

⭒owned a fish when he was around 7, cried because it died. turns out it was alive and he saw it swim down the toilet. never got another fish again, traumatized.

⭒doesn't like being told he's in the wrong, will refuse and deny it 'til he's forced to either apologise or end the friendship.

⭒curly ginger, or wavy ginger, you can't change my mind.

⭒doesn't really understand tiktok that much, or instagram. not really something that he's interested in, but occasionally uses twitter for like 5 minutes.

⭒has anemia, or iron deficiency. takes a couple naps a day because he doesn't like taking his supplements.

these are all i could think off 😵‍💫 tell me your personal headcannons!!

banner credit; @cafekitsune

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ash5monster01 · 1 year ago

Text

Learning to Love Part 6

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x FemReader!PlusSize

Warnings: 18+, langauge, angst, fluff, mentions of bullying, body image issues, fat shaming, fake relationship, eventual smut, minor enemies to lovers trope.

Summary: It's not uncommon for you to be shamed for your size, it is however uncommon to be told that no one would ever date you because of it. Rafe on the other hand is used to being called a jerk, that is until he is accused of seeing people for only what's on the surface. It's purely coicidental you two meet right after these accusations are thrown your way. So even though you two don't know each other, and probably never would've looked the others way before this, now you're both going to prove a point. It's simple really, prove others wrong and don't fall in love. Easier said than done.

word count: 2.6k

Part 5 ←→ Part 7

Masterlist

Rafe had done a great job at avoiding Matt and Levi since dating you. He was afraid if they started asking questions he wouldn’t be convincing enough. Thing was he couldn't avoid them forever, which is proven true when the client he had met with abruptly left lunch early leaving the three men left to discuss more than just work. So Rafe is sat in the same position he was the day he met you, some beach club during lunch hours, bourbon in his hand, and two assholes sat across from him.

"I should probably get back to the office" Rafe says after one more sip of his bourbon, he had no plans to finish it. He hadn't really needed to numb feelings since meeting you.

"Woah, why such a rush? We have at least twenty more minutes" Matt says with a smirk and Rafe sighs. If he wanted to spend time with these two he'd still be an active member at the country club. He hated when Barry called him country club, he was trying to leave that life behind.

"Meeting is over, I have work to do" Rafe says and a low chuckle escapes Levi's mouth and reverberates into the rim of his whiskey glass.

"He just doesn't want us asking questions about his little girlfriend. Or should a say big girlfriend" Rafe's hand instantly tightens around his glass at Levi's words.

"That's right, Rafe has a new lady" Matt smirks, leaning back in his chair and Rafe does everything he can to not roll his eyes.

"You guys have no right to talk about her" Rafe says with a cold and sharp voice. The boys know they've gotten under his skin, struck a nerve with the hot tempered boy in front of them.

"Listen all we're saying is it's pretty suspicous you start dating big girl right after we say something about how you never date unattractive girls" Levi says leaning forward, his arms crossing over the table.

“Well that’s not the case” Rafe says leaning back, standing his ground. He had grown far too fond of you to let some bitter assholes say anything or assume anything. Even if they’re right.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say our Rafe here is using the poor girl to prove a point” the sentence makes Rafe stomach churn. Before he had gotten to know you that was the case and he hated how bad it sounded out loud.

“Well you never have known any better Matt and what do I have to prove to you two idiots?” and Rafe had a point. It never was about proving himself to these jack offs. It was to prove it to himself and anyone who ever saw the worst side of him and never thought he could come back from that. His sisters, his Step Mom, all those Pogues he harassed for so long. He had killed someone and it was a burden he had to live with every single day. The least he could do is start seeing people for more than what’s on the outside.

"Nothing, just a little weird you started dating a fatty" Rafe's hand slammed the bottom of his glass so hard on the table both boys jumped at the noise, wild eyes looking at Rafe who seemed far to calm for what he just did.

"Let's not forget who controls your employment status, on top of that you have no right to talk about my girlfriend and her size. Actually anyone’s size for that matter. Considering that it's coming from big nose and pimples over here" and both boys sit there shocked for a moment as Rafe stands, rebuttons his suit jacket, and heads to his truck where he can go back to work and not be bothered by those idiots. He should've fired one of them for the hell of it.

Yet he couldn't shake what they were both saying about you at lunch and they were right about one thing, he did have twenty minutes left. Actually he had all the time in the world left because he was the CEO, he'd pull a late night if it meant seeing you and getting whatever those idiots said out of his head. So his direction changed and he found himself pulling into the empty lot of the bar. He was actually surprised the doors were unlocked when he pushed through them and even luckier he was met with the sight of your back. You leaned over a table, wiping it down for the upcoming shift. You wore your usual outfit, jeans and a T-shirt, this time with the logo of your bar across the back in neon. The door slams shut behind him just as he begins admiring the curve of your ass.

"We don't open for another twenty minutes" you call out without turning and he grins, arms crossing over his chest.

"Damn, because I was really hoping for a drink now" he watches as you perk up to the sound of his voice and he's met with a wide smile when you turn around and face him.

'What're you doing here?" you grin and he chuckles, walking forward and spotting Mila and Randy who watch you both from the bar. Mostly because he wants to and the audience you have, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close.

"Had some time left on my lunch break, I wanted to see you" he says and that's when you spot the pain in his eyes and you need no explanation as you hug him close.

"How bout a drink on the house, mainly because we haven't put the new drawer in yet" you tell him and he laughs loudly before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"I'd like that" he says and you nod before locking your hand in his own and leading him over to the bar where Mila and Randy jump to look like they were working and not watching the two of you interact.

"Hey, can you get Rafe something to cheer him up?" you ask when you hit the bar and Mila chuckles as Randy nods.

"Rafe having a bad day?” Mila teases lightly, now more comfortable with him since he had been coming around the house. They had reached a new level of friendship when she dug into Rafe about the hickey he had given you. You hadn't realized how carried away he had gotten either and your neck looked like a crime scene opposed to the small mark you had before. She had bitched about how much makeup it would take for her to cover you up when he had told her not too, that he wanted everyone to know you were his. You had felt that sentence in places you shouldn't of and Mila finally accepted Rafe was in this for real.

"Just some idiot coworkers, my revenge was leaving them with the lunch bill today" Rafe returns as Randy sets the brightest drink in front of him. Rafe's eyes widen at the vibrant red color of the liquid and you can't help but giggle.

"What, you said something to cheer him up. This cheers me up" Randy defends and Rafe tilts his head before lifting the drink up.

"Here's to red dye I guess" he says before taking a sip. You all watched curiously as he gulps the the liquid down.

"Not bad Randy, a little too sweet for my liking but good" Rafe says and he grins victoriously as Rafe takes another sip from the drink.

"Don't listen to him, he likes things sweet" you tease and the minute the words leave your mouth you blush a deep red because you know exactly what it sounded like. Mila snorts out a laugh as Randy wears a mortified look.

"I didn't need to know that" he says and you know your flushed cheeks burn visibly for the whole crowd to see.

"I didn't mean it like that" you mutter out and Rafe feels his heart soar over how adorable you look in this moment.

"Don't worry baby, I know exactly what you meant" Rafe says in a proud way, arm wrapping around the back of your chair, and pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. He pretends it's real, that you're really his girl and can kiss you as much as he likes. After trying to finally turn his life around for the better and allowing someone like you so close he realized how lonely he truly was, it creeping in like a bad cold.

“God, I need to go on a date” Mila groans out and Randy chuckles beside her.

“What happened with that guy from last night? What was his name? Paul? I thought you were trying to get his number?” Randy asks, continuing to clean the glasses for the upcoming shift.

“Pope, and turns out he was with that gorgeous girl with him the whole time” you don’t miss the way Rafe freezes against you.

“Not really a surprise, that whole group was some of the most good looking people I’ve ever seen. No surprise they were all dating one another, they’ve probably swapped before” Randy says as your eyes look up to Rafe who suddenly looks like he doesn’t want to be here anymore.

“They were the ones who found the road to El Dorado, hence why it would’ve been amazing to get his number” you recognize the look on Rafe’s face being one of panic, so you furrow your eyebrows together and put your hand on his thigh.

“Rafe, what’s wrong?” you ask and as if he’s brought back to reality he stands and begins to shake his head.

“I have to go, good luck tonight guys” and he’s rushing out of the bar before you can even process what’s happening. That doesn’t stop you from chasing after him though, pushing open the doors to find him in the empty parking lot, gripping his hair, and breathing heavily.

"Rafe, whats going on?" you call out after him but he starts to pace, not turning to face you. The worry you had for him when he showed up now heightens as you see him experience something similiar to a panic attack. So you do what you know best and rush over to him, arms stopping his movement and locking him in your space. You'd never willing press yourself so closely to him, allowing him to feel the curves of your large stomach pressing against him, making him aware of your size, but you know with the panic in his eyes he won't register what was happening. "Hey, talk to me"

"I have to get to work" he say's trying to pull away but you squeeze your arms tighter around him so he's not allowed to escape. This brings his attention to you, eyes finally locking on your own.

"Listen to me Rafe, we may be fake dating but that doesn't mean in the last few weeks I haven't gotten to know you. That being said I know you're upset about something and there is no possible way I can allow myself to let you get in that truck and drive off knowing the mental state you are currently in" he freezes at your words, not quite expecting such a speech to come from you but he also feels his heart rate slow to a small thrum. You had calmed him down. Nobody has ever been able to calm him down. "Talk to me, I'm a stranger, remember?"

"You're not a stranger" he says with the shake of his head, his own arms coming to wrap around you. He takes a beat, allow himself to collect his thoughts and consider sharing this with you. "Those people they were talking about, those are my sisters friends. Considering she doesn't go anywhere without them it meant my sister had been there. I haven't seen my sister in over a year. It just freaked me out"

"The sister you dont talk to?" you ask and he confirms with the nod of his head. "She's the one that found the treasure?”

"It was almost me" Rafe whispers and you feel your heart break for him. This showed that the issues with his sister was much more than resentment, it was the high of the chase. Willing to do and sacrfifice anything for something as beautiful as ancient treasure.

"It wasn't just resentment" you whisper out and Rafe squeezes his eyes shut, clearly trying to push away memories he doesn't want to recall. It's when your arms loosen around him his own heart breaks.

"I've done things I regret. Things that I wasn't even in control of. My whole life all my Dad wanted was that damn treasure and I wanted to be the one to give it to him. To make him proud and instead he sacrificed himself for Sarah's safety and she got the treasure instead of me. She got everything and all I got was the stupid company he didn't even want me to have" then to your surprise a tear slips free from his eye and he steps away from you to hide it.

"Hey, stop" you grip his wrist, tugging him back. His heart flutters as your free hand reaches up and brushes the stray tear away. "Come here"

And just like that he falls into your embrace. Head landing on your shoulder and hugging you tightly. He hadn't had someone comfort him like this ever. At least since his Mom has passed, you're embrace warm and a reminder of all those time's he came to her with scraped knees and misty eyes. The thought alone makes him cry silently against you because maybe for the first time he was realizing how broken his family had become. He was technically orphaned and he didn't even have his sisters to rely on anymore.

It was crazy how fast they went from sharing bowls of cereal at the kitchen island, teasing each other like siblings should, to picking sides of a hunting war, faking deaths, losing lives, and hurting one another for real. A year of hatred and blind rage had changed the entire course of his life and now he was left all alone with the one thing he never truly wanted. At least he had you, even if it wasn't real. Then again how sad is it that the one person he can rely on is one he had to bargain to spend time with him. His entire life was a sham.

"Take the day" you say and he pulls back, sniffling and looking at you with teary eyes.

"What?" he asks curiously and you give him a light smile, hands gripping his own.

"Take the rest of the day, Mila and Randy can handle it here. Let's just go back to your apartment, watch a few movies and order some pizza" you tell him and his own smile cracked across his face. He took a moment to consider it before nodding and brushing his damp cheeks away.

"Okay, yeah. I do have to stop into the office quick. Then we can go" and you nod, willing to agree as long as he was okay.

"If we stop at the office I get to drive" you tell him, holding you hand out, and he furrows his eyebrows before you give him a stern look which makes him comply, dropping the keys into your hand.

"Goodluck reaching the pedals" he mutters and you roll your eyes before walking towards the bar to tell Mila and Randy you were taking to day with Rafe.

"I bet I drive it better than you"

a/n: sorry it’s been a while my loves, the holidays always keep me super busy. hope you enjoyed!

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @fishingirl12 @houseofperfecttaste @abbybarnesstuff @carma-fanficaddict @jjmaybankisbae @exhaustedbutelated @diagnosedpsychosis @daivny @drewstarkeygf @vinniehackersbaee @emsgoodthinkin @apollo3475 @https-urwife @willowalexissss @kisstaya @hcneyedsstuff @lexiereblogs @drewsuncrustables @mveggieburger @marvel4life3000 @bibliophilewednesday @humungouspatrolwolf @ijustwanttoreadlols @jaijustreads @sleepjam @dilvcv @aaronhotchswife @sunshine1218 @lavenderhazeq @theultimatefrenchfangirl

Comment if you want to be added to the tag list :))

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drewsbuzzcut · 10 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/drewsbuzzcut/740429391926083584/right-where-you-left-me

How do they get back together? Please say it’s the model reader that goes after Mat instead of the other way around.

Lessons Learned

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

warnings: insecurities, mentions therapy, cursing, minor angst, slight mentions of blood, and I think that’s all

pt 2 of Right Where You Left Me

It’s been a lousy, dragged out month of self pity and anger. You’re upset with the way you handled things with Mat. You were proving your one sided point of you being too young right all because you couldn’t communicate with him. Why, you, thought breaking up with him rather than talking with him was a more beneficial idea? You have no clue. Mat is one of the most understanding people you’ve come to know. But because you’re you, you’ve also stayed clear of anything that has to do with Mat. Not that he was calling or texting you anyways. He is probably so done with you.

The day after everything went down, you realized your mistake but it was too late. Even if it wasn’t too late, you’re too stubborn to do anything about it. You don’t really deserve Mat, but you want him so bad.

During your flight back home from your latest photo shoot, you think over every little thing. You want to talk to Mat, but you can’t stop the thoughts of him not wanting you back, or worse, moving on from flooding your mind. You chew on your bottom lip until you taste blood and your leg hasn’t stopped shaking. Why do you keep doing this to yourself?

Before you can overthink it, you get an uber to Mat’s place and hope that he’s home.

His front door looks daunting, but it also reminds you of all the good times you’ve had in his home. You shake out your nerves and knock on the door. You’re met with silence. A minute passes and you knock again. It’s followed by more silence. You lean your forehead on the cool wood, trying not to let yourself get discouraged.

“Y/n?” You hear his voice behind you.

You quickly look up, snapping your head over your shoulder to face him. His hair is longer than it was a month ago. His eyes are tired and so is his body. His large bags look extra heavy in his hands. All your thoughts disappear when you connect your eyes with his.

“Hi. I didn’t know you weren’t home,” you say.

“We just got back from a roadie,” he answers, a nervous hand going through his hair.

Your fingers fidget with a loose strand of thread from your tank top. You try to form the right words in your head, but you feel intimidated under his gaze.

“Oh. Well I should probably leave and let you get settled in. It was nice seeing you,” you say and move away from his door.

“Y/n, you’re here for a reason. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine!” You blurt out.

You watch him through squinted eyes, because not even you buy your lie. You bite down on your lips and throw your head back with a groan.

“Okay. Fuck, I’m not fine, but you just got home so I’m sure you don’t feel like talking right now,” you slap a hand on your forehead.

You’re frazzled, but then you hear a small giggle fall from Mat’s lips.

“We can talk, but first we have to go inside,” he gestures to his front door but you quickly shake your head.

“No. I can’t go inside. Besides, it’ll be quick. I just wanted to tell you that I fucked up. I’m insecure and I fucked up big time. I broke up with you because I hate the way people possibly perceive me when they find out we’re dating. You’re older than me and wiser, so I get intimidated by that. That other person from the party just made me really jealous, and I lost my cool which made me not communicate well with you. I became my worst insecurity. I became this little, naive girl who can’t display her emotions, who can’t communicate. I suck and I just wanted to say that I’m sorry,” you rant, voice thick but strong.

“You’re shaking” he reaches out a hand to place on your arm. It's an immediate warmth that you feel and you close your eyes to relish in it.

“Yeah, well I’m really scared right now,” you whisper.

“Why?” He asks back in a whisper.

“Because I love you, but I don’t know if you still love me or even want me,” you admit, taking a chance to peer up at him.

“Always. I always want you and I always love you, but I need there to be a change,” he says and you feel your heart fall.

He’s not being unreasonable, but you wish you could just automatically change. You’d put in the work anyways, especially for him.

“You’re right. I’m a sucky girlfriend and you deserve better, so I have been going to my therapist a lot more. I’m working on how to properly communicate. I’m also trying to remind myself that I’m enough for you and that I can handle your life and our life together. I’m trying,” you explain.

“I’m proud of you,” you smile at his statement.

“Thank you. I should probably get home and let you unpack. I’ll call you later and maybe we can go on a date,” you suggest, smiling shyly at him.

He stays silent which you take as his agreement. You squeeze his arm affectionately and start to walk away, but you feel him tug on your hand. He pulls you towards him and you spin into his arms, your hands subconsciously connecting behind his neck.

“What makes you think I want my girlfriend to leave? I haven’t seen or talked to you in a month. I want a kiss. I want to love you in my bed. I want you right here in my arms,” he secures his arms around your waist and whispers in your ear.

You can feel butterflies flutter in your stomach and your cheeks heat up.

“But you said that I needed to change, so I thought maybe we should have some space,” you explain.

“Well I know it’s going to take some time to make changes, and you’re not the only one who has to change. I also don’t want any more space. We went a month without each other, I want you with me at all times. I love you,” he assures you.

“I love you. I’m so sorry. I promise I’m going to change. I want to be the girl you deserve, the girl you need,” you cry, your tears finally breaking through. All your tension releases from your shoulders and you can’t help but shake in his arms.

“You’re my dream girl. Like I said, it’s only you. You’re the love of my life. Please come inside, take a shower with me,” he pleads, his large hands traveling down to squeeze at your ass.

“Fine. Kiss me first,” you tug on his shirt.

He leans down, sucking your top lip between his two lips. Your body melts into his- especially when his tongue dips into your mouth.

“You’re perfect,” he says into your mouth.

“No, you are,” you grab the keys from his front pocket, smiling at the way his breath hitches at your touch. You unlock his door and drag him in.

You were about to make up for all the lost time.

a/n: Enjoy bffs!!

#mat barzal #mat barzal fanfiction #mat barzal fluff #mat barzal angst #mat barzal blurb #mat barzal x reader #mat barzal smut #mat barzal imagine #mat barzal fic #nhl imagine #nhl fic #new york islanders #visceral in doses

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reputationmunson · 1 year ago

Text

Crossing Lines | s.h x fem!reader

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

series summary: steve isn’t your biggest fan, so why does he ask you to be his date to a wedding? | enemies to lovers, fake dating

chapter summary: your first date with Steve! and more :)

content: fluff, secret relationship, kissing, steve feeling insecure, mentions of eddie having a crush on reader, reader wears steve’s shirt, reader and steve being so in love it hurts, swearing, she/her pronouns, pet names, use of y/n, barely proofread

word count: 4.5k

a/n: IT’S FINALLY HERE! thank you for all being so patient with me and i hope the wait was worth it. (i also made steve softer than originally intended but i couldn’t help myself). also this is not the final chapter!!

thank you to @strwbrrydaydreams for listening to me talk about this chapter and for all of your kind words. i appreciate you so much ❤️

You had a date with Steve tonight. A date. With Steve Harrington.

The same guy who, not so long ago, acted like just you existing was to spite him, the same guy who acted like being in the same room with you was pure torture, and the same guy who groaned after every time you spoke.

He wasn’t that guy anymore, though. You hoped, at least.

Steve kissed you silly two nights ago. He slept in your bed, nothing nefarious, just two people who no longer hate each other sharing body heat and kisses under covers. Then when he left for work the next morning, he pressed a soft, barely there, kiss to your temple.

He called you that night and asked you on a date. Due to the fact that you were keeping whatever was going between you two from your friends, you decided on a night in at your place.

Just because you were staying in didn’t mean you weren’t going to put in any effort. You spent the whole day cleaning your apartment until it looked good enough to be in a magazine. You spent an embarrassing amount of time on your makeup until it was perfect. You even went out and got a new dress. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a simple sundress, but you thought it made you look pretty and you hoped Steve thought the same thing.

You had candles lit, popcorn for the movie popped, and a bottle of wine ready to be poured in case things were awkward.

There’s no way it won’t be a little weird going from barely being able to stand each other to…dating? You weren’t even sure what to call it. You knew you and Steve had to talk about it. You liked Steve, a lot, but there was also a bit of hesitation. He was so mean to you and he gave you a little explanation as to why the night of the wedding, but it was still confusing.

Would he be hesitant too? Would he freeze at your touch? Would he still be cold towards you?

Or would he be the sweet Steve you used to know?

You check the clock hanging on your wall and realize you don’t have time to worry about this as Steve would be here any minute.

Your leg bounces anxiously as you hear footsteps approaching your door, followed by a knock. You take a deep breath, unlocking and opening your front door. Your nerves disappear when you see Steve. He looks so handsome, something you can really appreciate now. He has his hands behind his back, like he’s hiding something.

“Hi” you quirk your brow “whatchya got there?”

“You’re gonna think I’m so lame” he cringes. “I already do. Did you get me a present?” you grin.

Steve chuckles at your excitement and moves his arms from behind his back to reveal a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

“Steve” you whisper and your face softens. “How’d you know my favorite flowers?”

“You told Robin one time and I guess I never forgot” he tells you and hopes you don’t make fun of him for remembering a mundane detail, but knowing you, you definitely will.

“Wow” you breath out “you are so obsessed with me, aren’t you?” you joke and he playfully rolls his eyes. “Hey, you’re the one that got a new dress today” he teases. “How’d you know it’s a new dress? See, obsessed!” you counter and he throws his hands up in defense as a way to say “alright you got me. I might be obsessed”.

“Are you going to invite me in or just let me stand out here while you bully me?” He cocks his head to the side and you pretend to ponder over your answer. “I guess you can come in since you got me flowers”

Steve follows you inside and into your kitchen. You rummage through your cupboards trying to find a makeshift vase for your flowers while Steve admires you. He wonders how soon he’s allowed to kiss you. Does he wait until the end of the night? Or can he steal kisses throughout the entire date? All he’s been thinking about for the past two days is kissing you. He’s not sure he can wait much longer.

“Hey” he whispers, gently grabbing your hand and pulling you closer to him. “You look really pretty” he says and his hand cups your cheek. You lean into his touch, partially to try and convince yourself that this is real .“this is sorta weird” you mutter and his brows furrow. “Weird?” he questions.

“Not like a bad weird, just different. I’m not used to you saying stuff like that” you confess “Oh, sorry. You look so bad tonight. Truly horrendous” he jokes and you stick your tongue out at him. “Meanie”

“Let me make it up to you” he says, stepping closer so your bodies are pressed together. His lips brush over yours, but he doesn’t kiss you yet.

“So pretty” he mutters against your lips. Your hand cups the back of his neck as you decide you can’t wait much longer and press your lips to his.

As you kiss Steve, you realize there’s no point of return. There’s no world in which you could go back to hating him, or even just being his friend, after you know what it feels to be kissed by him.

A simple kiss has never made you so weak in the knees before or made you feel like you had a zoo of butterflies in your stomach.

The hand not on your cheek moves to rest on your lower back, keeping you as close as possible to him. You can’t help but smile, totally messing up the kiss. “Sorry” you chuckle and he rests his forehead on yours. “It’s okay. I’d smile if I was kissing me, too”

“Oh my god” you groan before chuckling. “You’re insufferable, Steve” you kid, no malice in your tone.

“So insufferable” he jokingly agrees. “Do you wanna watch a movie now?” he asks, nodding in the direction of the living room. “yeah, um, but, is it okay if we talk first?” you nervously ask. “Yeah, sure. You’re not breaking this off already, are you?” he jokes and you shake your head. “No it isn’t like that. C’mon, let's sit.” you grab his hand and lead him to sit on the couch.

“So,” you start and fiddle with the hem of your dress “I wanted to talk about us, I guess. I mean, not that long ago I swore you hated my guts and now you’re bringing me flowers and kissing me in the kitchen. I think it’s just making my head spin, ya know?”

“Yeah, I understand. When I was buying flowers for you I kept thinking ‘this chick used to drive me crazy and now I’m picking out flowers and can’t stop thinking about kissing her’ and don’t get me wrong you still drive me crazy, but just a tiny bit less now that I get to kiss you.” he responds and grabs your hand that nervously fiddles with your dress. “Do you want this? Us, I mean.” he asks.

“Of course I do. It’s just-ugh- I’m scared because what if we move too fast? or what if you have this image in your head of me and I turn out not to be that and you go back to how you used to treat me? And like I said before it’s a little weird, right? To kiss and hold hands? I just get scared that I’m gonna reach out to touch you and you’re gonna pull away.”

“Yes, it does feel a little weird, but we’ll take this as slow as you want to, okay? I wanna be the guy you deserve. I know I can be an ass, but I’m gonna treat you the way I always should’ve treated you.” he promises, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your skin.

“You really can be cheesy, you know that?” you tease. “Baby, you don’t know the half of it.”

“Baby” you repeat, your voice soft and sweet. “I’ve called you baby before” he states. “Yeah, but when we were fake dating. I know that you mean it now and it’s nice.”

“I’m sorry” he says and you look at him puzzled. “For?” you ask. “How I used to be” he clarifies.

“Steve, you’ve already apologized. It’s okay” you assure him. “I know I have, but it doesn’t feel like that’s enough. I wish I could change it. Go back in time and smack myself upside the head.”

“Oh, I’d love to do that too. Smack you, I mean. Not me, I’m perfect. But, we can’t change the past, so let’s focus on the future. Starting with watching a movie because this popcorn is probably cold and stale now.”

Steve quickly pops a movie in, some cheesy horror that you’ll both make fun of. He lays behind you on the couch, his arm wrapped around your waist. It feels nice. Better than nice. You fit together perfectly like two puzzle pieces.

As you watch the movie, he occasionally peppers kisses along your jawline or your shoulder. Sometimes you turn your head to give him a proper kiss on the lips, which turns into a brief makeout session before turning your attention back to the movie. ‘Slow, Harrington. Take it slow’ Steve thinks to himself.

Steve knows that he loves you. He thinks he’s loved you since he met you. He doesn’t think you’re there yet, though. Hell, he hasn’t even asked you to officially be his girlfriend. How much longer should he wait to ask you that? He doesn’t want to ask too soon, but he’s also not sure how much longer he can hold it in.

If he can’t tell you he loves you, he’ll definitely show you. He’ll buy you all the flowers in Hawkins, he’ll hold you and kiss you until you shove him off you, he’ll do anything to show you and make up for the past.

You and Steve are fast asleep when there’s a knock at your door. By the second frantic knock, Steve stirs, but thinks it was maybe just part of his dream until there’s a third knock followed by a voice that’s too familiar. “y/n! Open the door!” Robin exclaims.

Steve shakes you a little to wake you up. “y/n, wake up! Robin’s here!” he whisper yells. “That’s not funny” you mumble, still half asleep.

“Hello! I know you’re home!” Robin yells and your eyes widen before you jump off the couch.

“Fuck! What is she doing here?” you ask, frantically blowing out the candles you lit for a ‘romantic ambiance’.

“I don’t know! It’s your apartment! Did she tell you she was coming over?” he asks, still whispering. “No, it’s Robin. She always comes over unannounced.” You quietly move to the kitchen, dumping out the popcorn and hiding the flowers in a cabinet. “Quick, go hide in my room. In the closet” you tell him.

“Why in the closet? Why can’t I just sit on your bed until she leaves?”

“No arguing! Closet, Steve”

He doesn’t argue any further, he quickly and quietly goes to your bedroom and squishes himself into the tiny closet.

You gather yourself before opening the door to see a frantic Robin on the other side.

“Hey, Robs. What’s up?” you try to sound casual. “I’m so bored, y/n, ugh and today sucked so bad! Work was awful and I dropped my burrito on the ground and- why are you wearing a dress?”

“Oh, um, I just bought this, so I’m trying it on. Do you like it?” you ask, hoping she doesn’t ask anymore questions. “You look great, duh, but why is your makeup still on, it's like ten at night?”

“Just testing out some new makeup, ya know. I had zero plans tonight so I figured, why not?” you lie, but she seems convinced. “Makes sense, I guess. Since you’re free, do you wanna have a sleepover?”

“Oh, I don’t know-” “pleasepleaseplease” she begs like a toddler and it’s clear she won’t be leaving any time soon. “yeah, okay. Tell ya what, go wait out and my car and we’ll get some snacks. I’m gonna change.” you say, tossing her your keys. “Yay! Don’t take too long!” she says and walks outside. You lock the door behind her just in case and quickly go to your bedroom.

“Is she gone?” Steve asks when he walks out of your closet. “um, sort of. She’s waiting in my car because we’re having a sleepover, so you’ll have to leave like ten minutes after I do. I’m so sorry” you apologize and rest your forehead on his shoulder, letting out a sigh.

“It’s okay. Trust me, I know how Robin is” he chuckles and starts to rub your back.

“I had fun tonight. Even if it got cut short.” you tell him and he beams. “Me too.”

“Alright, turn around. I gotta get changed.”

“I can’t watch?” he jokes and you lightly shove his chest. “Face the wall, Harrington”

You change as fast as you can into a pair of sweats and a t-shirt then give Steve the go-ahead to turn around.

“How do you still look so good? Don’t think I can let you leave now” He says, sauntering over to you. “You’re gonna have to. Unless you want robin to break down the door and find us making out.”

“Hm, very true. How about just one kiss then?”

“Okay, but then I really have to go.” you say and he pouts, but quickly pecks your lips. Then he pecks them again and again.

“Steve” kiss “I really” kiss “gotta go” kiss

You like this side of Steve and love how sweet on you he is. It makes everything worth it.

“Alright, get outta here. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” he promises and you plant one last kiss on his cheek before leaving.

You hope Robin doesn’t notice how flustered you are.

Although part of you wished you were still with Steve, it was nice to spend time with Robin.

You hated that you couldn’t tell her about this. She’s your best friend and you tell her practically everything. Guilt eats away at you thinking about sneaking around with Steve behind her back, but she would absolutely blow a gasket if she found out.

“You okay?” she wonders, snapping you out of your thoughts. “Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little tired” you lie, giving her a half-assed smile.

“Can I ask you something kinda weird?” she asks and you worry she might already know. “Don’t you always?” you respond and both of you chuckle.

“Have you seen Steve since you came back from the wedding?” she asks and you stiffen for a second, but quickly act natural. “No, I haven’t. One weekend was enough for me. Why?”

“He called me one day while you guys were there,” she starts and you wait for her to continue “and it just seemed like maybe you guys were starting to become friends”

“What did he say when you guys talked?”

“Basically that spending a weekend with you wasn’t the worst time of his life. He said you were funny and that his family loved you. Especially a little girl named Peneople. He really admired how great you were with her and please don’t tell him I said this he would kill me, but he thought it was cute, too, which drove him nuts.” she laughs

“He said that?�� you hold back a smile, but you can’t stop the feeling in your chest. Like your heart just might explode. “Weird, right? I mean, coming from him. I really thought you’d guys come back and at least be acquaintances.” she sighs.

“Nope. Definitely didn’t come back as friends” you say, which technically isn’t a lie. You didn’t come back as friends, you’re more than just that. “Anyways, I’m exhausted, Robs. Wanna go to bed?”

After tonight, you really had no reason to be hesitant with Steve. You were all in.

It had been a week since you saw Steve. A long, dreadful week. You missed him, which is something you never thought you’d say, and you still had to poke fun at him for telling Robin that he thought you were cute.

You barely even got to talk on the phone with him. With conflicting work schedules and late-night shifts, it was difficult to find the time.

Luckily, you’d be seeing him tonight, but unluckily, all of your friends would be there. You love them dearly, you really do, but you just want alone time with Steve and you hate that you have to act like you don’t want to be curled up next to him all night.

You would be able to have a little alone time with him, though. He told you everyone would be there around nine, so you said you’d be there at eight in hopes to make up for lost time over the past week.

Your excitement got the best of you, causing you to show up at 7:30 instead and you hoped Steve wouldn’t mind.

Little did you know, Steve was counting down the seconds until he got to see you. He practically sprints to the door when you ring the doorbell, almost slipping in the hallway.

“Hi” he greets you with a big smile on his face. “Hi, Stevie. Sorry I’m a little early.”

“Oh, yeah, I hate that I have to spend more time with my girl”

My girl. He says it so naturally you can’t help but smile and feel all giddy inside. “You’re such a goof.” you say before leaning in to give him a kiss to say how much you missed him.

Both of you melt into the kiss and you feel the weight of missing him lift off of your shoulders. His arms wrap around you and he pulls you inside without breaking the kiss. ‘Impressive’ you think to yourself.

Your hands find a place in his hair, threading through the soft, brown locks. His hands grip your hips, occasionally squeezing your sides. You feel warm all over from his touch and his affection. You’re half tempted to tell him to call everyone and cancel.

He kisses you until you can’t breathe, which is more appealing than it sounds. You’d kiss him till your lungs give out.

“Mm, I missed you” he says when he breaks the kiss, pulling you in for a hug. “I missed you too, cheeseball” you reply and he snorts. “Cheeseball? What the hell does that mean?”

“Cause you’re cheesy. Cheesy Stevie”

“Please don’t let that become a thing” he whines. “Maybe it will. Maybe it won’t.” you say, nuzzling your face into his shirt. He smells like body wash and laundry detergent and his shirt is so soft you definitely need to come up with a plan on how you’re going to steal it.

“um, so, I was wondering if maybe you wanted to spend the night tonight? You could come back after everyone leaves or something.”

“I didn’t bring any overnight stuff.”

“You live, like, ten minutes away, babe. Grab your stuff and come back.”

“You must really want me here, huh?” you tease. “Yeah. I hate sleeping without a blanket stealer” he teases back. “I am not a blanket stealer.” you defend yourself and he laughs. “So is that a yes?”

“I suppose it is. Consider yourself lucky”

“yeah, yeah, I know. You’re the best and I worship the ground you walk on, blah, blah, blah.” He sounds like he’s being sarcastic, but he means every word.

“As much as I enjoy this, we’ve been standing here hugging for like ten minutes. Can we snuggle on the couch now?”

“You read my mind, pretty girl.”

Steve hated that he couldn’t kiss you, or touch you, or tell you how cute you look every time your nose scrunches when you laugh. He especially hated how close Eddie was sitting next to you. His forearm touching your thigh was driving Steve crazy. It doesn’t take a genius to see that Eddie has a tiny crush on you. He tries to hide his annoyance, but he isn’t doing a very good job.

His jaw is clenched as he gives Eddie a death stare. Eddie is oblivious to it, though, thankfully. You? Not so much. You can tell Steve is annoyed and you want so badly to assure him he’s the only one you want.

Eddie’s crush was harmless, it could barely even be considered a crush. You knew that and so did Steve, but he still let his insecurity get the best of him. He was never mean to you, he’d never treat you the way Steve did. Should you be with him instead?

As Eddie tells a story, he theatrically moves his arms around and in the process, he accidentally spills his coca-cola on you, causing you to gasp.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry, y/n” he apologizes, looking at you with puppy dog eyes.

“Jesus christ, munson” Steve groans and stands up from his seat. “It’s okay, Eds, it was an accident” you smile and assure him it’s okay.

“C’mon, I’ll get you a shirt” Steve says and you follow him to his room. Everyone is momentarily confused at how fast Steve jumped to your rescue, sharing confused glances at each other. They quickly brush it off, not thinking too much into it.

“You okay?” Steve asks once you’re in his bedroom. “It was coke, Steve, not battery acid. I’m fine” you giggle. “Are you okay?” you ask when you see the unamused look on his face.

“Yep” he responds in an irritated tone. “Steve, don’t do that. If we want this to work you gotta talk to me.” you rest your hand on his upper arm, giving it a light squeeze.

“I love Eddie, I do, but I can’t stand how much he likes you. I don’t like seeing him all over you when I can’t do anything about it.” he confesses.

“Steve” you sigh “thank you for telling me, but I don’t think Eddie likes me as much as you think he does. Yeah, we used to be a thing for like five minutes, but that was so long ago and it doesn’t even matter. I want you and only you.”

“But he’s so nice to you. He always has been and it makes me think you deserve to be with someone who’s always treated you that way, ya know?”

You step closer to Steve, grabbing his hand and running your thumb over his knuckles. “Steve, please stop beating yourself up about that. I swear I forgive you, okay? Call me crazy, but I’d go through it all again just to be where we are right now” you promise, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“And you call me the cheeseball” he playfully scoffs. “I’m sorry for being weird. It’ll probably happen again” he says and you giggle. “I know it will. Now can you get me a shirt? I feel sticky.” you whine.

“Here” he says, handing you a t-shirt with a faded basketball teams’ name on the front. “Thank you. Now get back out there before they get suspicious” you tell him and he nods in agreement. “I love them, but I can’t wait for them to leave” he says with a sigh before leaving his bedroom. You couldn’t agree more.

“What took you so long?” Robin asks once Steve returns. “Couldn’t find a shirt up to her standards. You know how she is.” he replies briefly.

You come back out moments later and Steve can’t wait to tell you how good you look in his shirt.

After the longest hour of your life, everyone eventually went home. You rushed back as quickly as you could from picking up some things at your place and you hoped that no one decided to come back once you got to his place and question your reasoning for being there.

Steve left the door unlocked for you, so you entered without knocking and find him cleaning up the mess left behind by the neanderthals (Eddie and Robin to be specific).

“Hi, handsome. Need any help?” you ask when you walk into the kitchen. “No, I’m pretty much done. You can go get in bed if you want and I’ll be in soon”

“I gotta do my skincare routine, then I’ll be ready for bed”

“Skincare routine? What do you gotta do for that?” he asks out of curiosity. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

Once you’re in the bathroom, you pull out all of your necessities out of your bag and Steve carefully examines each of them.

“Do you wanna do it with me?” you offer. “Only if you do it for me”

You pull a scrunchie out of your bag and pull Steve’s hair out of his face. “What do you think?” he asks, referring to his new hairstyle. “You’ll be starting a new trend in no time” you kiss the tip of his nose and he hums in appreciation.

You take him through each step of your routine, carefully massage the products across his face.

“Mm, feels nice” he lets out a relieved sigh. “And you do this everyday? No wonder you’re so happy all the time.”

“Yeah, that’s why” you snort. Sure, it’s relaxing and brings you peace, but the real reason you’re so happy is sitting in front of with half of his hair in a ponytail being pampered by his own personal facialist. “All done. You look pretty good if I do say so myself”

“I feel like a million bucks, honey. Can we go to bed now?”

“Mhm, let’s go. I’m exhausted” you reply and quickly gather up your products, putting them back in your bag.

Steve dramatically flops on his bed, opening his arms as an invitation to join him. You accept his invitation immediately.

Your head rests on his chest and one of his arm wraps around you. The sound of his heartbeat soothes you, you’d like to think that it’s beating a little fast because of you.

He whispers your name and you hum in response, half asleep. “Are you awake?” he asks and starts to rub your back up and down with his hand.

“Barely. What are you thinking about?’’

“I know we talked about taking things slow, but if I’m being honest, I’m dying to ask you to be my girlfriend and you can say no, but-”

“yes” you interrupt. “What?” he asks, unsure if he heard you correctly.

“Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend, dork.” you clarify, then press a kiss to the column of his throat.

“I call you baby and you call me dork. How is that fair?”

“Get used to it. I’m your girlfriend now”

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