I'm that weirdo that lives in your neighborhood. You know the one: barely comes out of a day, eats garbage, faints if you get too close. No, not the opossum that keeps getting in your trash... Yeah, that one. Well, surprise! I am also a freak on the internet!
A bit about me? I dye my hair too much, I have a few body mods, and I'm too damn old to be this sad. Some people call me a disappointment, others call me Sam. I use they/them pronouns, and I identify as queer. If either of those things make you uncomfy, this is not the space for you. I'm in a closed relationship; my partner and I have been together for 10+ years so I guess he likes me. We have two cats who run our household but refuse to help with bills; they're cute anyway.
I would really love feedback on anything I post! Send me a message; tell me how I can improve or just say hi—but please be respectful! Also, my asks are open for anon's, too, so don't be afraid to send me some ideas if you have any! If you send me an idea, I may even use it—and I'll totally tag you if I do!
I feel like I owe my followers (luv u boo) a few words on my sudden silence. However, I want to hold onto some of my privacy. So, without sharing too much, I had to take some time away.
I'm not sure if I'll be writing anytime soon, to be honest. My brain is fried and I'm trying to get back on track. My time belongs elsewhere for now, but I will be back eventually. I realize that means I will lose interest in my ongoing story, and I'm extremely sorry for that. However, this is what is best for me. I know this is post is pretty cryptic, but I hope my amazing readers understand.
Anyway! I'll be back eventually. For now, I'm staying away from socials and realigning my priorities. ♡
Hi all. Just a small update: I'm currently dying of a stomach bug on top of one of the worst weeks (emotionally). I've been trying to work on part 6 of Buff Guy x Reader, but it's been rough. So, I'm going to postpone part 6 for this week while I try to recover and not think about killing myself.
do not forget the patron saint of these weeks that we celebrate ourselves proudly and openly in the streets
her name was Marsha P Johnson, and we have her to thank for so much.
remember, the first Pride was a riot, and she was one of the brave souls who endured it to help carve the path which so many of us walk today. she helped found several activist groups regarding LGBT safety and wellbeing. and she was absolutely radiant, too.
⚠ Content Warning: Adult language, minor sexual content, angst, slow-burn, fluff, a fat "joke".
Context: The day leading up to your date was fairly uneventful, minus a customer that seemed to peek behind your customer service mask. You try to keep your nerves contained until you're delivered to the address Daniel gave you. And—oh. Um... Where the hell are you?!
Word count: 7,528
│ part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │ part 5 │ part 6 (WIP) │ follow for more! │
Hihihi! Look who's back! (～￣▽￣)～
This is definitely the longest thing I've written in a long time, I just couldn't find a good place to end. I won't lie, it took a lot out of me, but I couldn't stop!
As always, I hope you enjoy it and it was worth the wait! ♡
[Comments, asks, and messages make me smile. Constructive criticism welcomed and encouraged! Let me know what you think and if I should continue this series.]
“This register open?”
A woman’s voice jarred you from your daydream, your eyes refocusing, head jerking from the palm of your hand. You stood straight, looking at the elderly woman with a small smile gracing her wrinkled lips.
“Yes, ma’am,” you replied, mirroring her smile. “I’m sorry about that.”
She chuckled, taking the items from her basket to place on the conveyor belt one-by-one. Small beeps rang out, mixing with the others in the background, as you dragged each barcode over the red laser.
“Don’t worry ‘bout it, sweetheart,” she drawled, a southern accent stretching her words into a thick, warm sound; even with the small click in the back of her throat making her words crackle. “Ya’ seem ta’ be miles away… A boy?”
Your heart sunk into the pit of your stomach, acid rising to fill its place. Your date was in less than four hours and you wasn’t sure how to feel. Daniel had never shown you anything less than respect; never pushing back anytime you said no, doting you with cute pet names, complimenting you any chance he could get.
Yet reminiscing on the way his voice changed filled you with dread.
“You’re observant,” you finally responded.
She observed you with careful eye, nodding her head slowly, a knowing look on her face. “I been around a while, young lady.”
You finished scanning her things, stated her total, and rested your palms against the cold metal of the register. Her hands dug through her purse, movements slow as syrup. Yet you were patient, even helping when she couldn’t see the small screen of the card reader.
After paying, she took a moment to offer you some unsolicited advice.
“Ya’ know,” she started, gathering her bags in fragile hands, “I’m jus’a silly ol’ lady, but I hope you’ll hear me out. I had a man courtin’ me when I was your age. He was so handsome, the nicest person ya’ ever could meet…”
She looked to you once more, the loss showed clearly, her brows turned up and lips down. The years of longing and sorrow permanently etched into deep lines on her face, making your heart clenched in your chest from the sheer intensity of it all.
“But my mama didn’t approve an’ I was too scared a disappointin’ her. Now, I don’t know why you’re scared, but don’t let it stop you, too.”
That was it; she gave you a small wave accompanied with an even smaller smile then shuffled towards the sliding doors. You blinked, staring at her small figure disappear through the doors, the glass sliding closed behind her.
“Very observant,” you muttered to yourself.
The rest of your shift wore on with forced smiles and empty smalltalk. Cash exchanged, cards swiped, receipts given—but all you could think about was the date and the older woman who seemed to look into your soul with her piercing grey eyes. The last four hours of your shift somehow dragged by even slower, a mix of eagerness and panic making the hours feel like days.
Amanda picked you up when your shift ended, promising to help you prepare for either a great date or a potentially soul-crushing one. Your silence led her to fill the space. While you tried not to think about what the night could hold, she was rambling about work—almost talking about the mysterious blonde man—before shifting to rant about her landlord. She paid almost twice the amount you did, and her apartment looked nicer; but at least your landlord would come to your aid if you called about a broken water heater.
Soon after, you were in your cluttered apartment, one elbow on the second-hand vanity in your bedroom, leaned so close to the mirror that you breath subtly fogged the glass. You examined your makeup, a finger coming to smudge away a small smear of lipstick trying to escape your bottom lip line. The bed creaked behind you as Amanda rolled onto her back.
“I mean, it could be nothing,” she continued, her hair splayed across your mattress like flames. Her head tilted to look over at you. “And it probably is. You have been known to overthink.”
“Don’t,” you snipped, turning in your chair to face her.
“I’m just saying. Remember that time you were convinced that tree outside your window was a man trying to break in?”
You gasped, feigning offense with a hand coming to cover your heart. “I just said ‘don’t’ and you bring up my trauma anyway.”
She rolled her eyes with a scoff, bringing her phone back to her face. “You’re so theatrical.”
“Pot, meet kettle.”
You smirked, standing from your chair to make your way to your closet. Your movement grabbed her attention from her phone, which was quickly tossed to the side, and she somehow managed to beat you through your closet door. She assumed her self appointed role of picking your dress, digging through the options carefully.
“I don’t know, ‘Manda. I just—”
“You’re worried he’s going to peel your skin off and wear it like a suit?”
“Hey!” Your voice came out as a bark, louder than you meant, but you still took a half-step towards her with a finger in her face. “There’s a documented case of someone actually doing that! And there was a guy that made furniture with skin!”
Her upper lip curled in revulsion as she looked at you, hands grasping two different dresses held by plastic hangers.
“You know the weirdest shit,” she commented with unconcealed disgust.
You shrugged your shoulders upwards once, watching her go back to her self-appointed task of picking out your wardrobe. “… I read a lot.”
She finally landed on a dress, jerking it from the metal rod, turning and holding it to your body. You complained, saying you didn’t want your arms exposed, and were met with a sern frown.
You looked in the full length mirror, fingers hooking in the top of the dress to tug it upwards. Of course she picked strapless, why wouldn’t she? And more importantly, why do you still own this thing when your breasts struggled to stay contained in the built-in bra?
You swiveled towards her, the satin navy fabric flowing to your ankles, your hands coming to your hips while giving her a dissatisfied look—and you were met with one in return.
“Let me try again,” she said, already disappearing back through the closet door.
You remind her with a raised voice: “He said it was a nice restaurant!”
Three dress changes later, you were slipping your heels on and grabbing your purse.
“I’m raiding your fridge while you’re gone,” Amanda chirped as you checked your makeup and hair once more in the mirror by the front door. She waited for no reply, already padding towards the kitchen. Only, prior to crossing the threshold, she stopped.
She turned on her heels towards you, her face devoid of any humor. Instead, her brows were knitted together and lips drawn into a tight line.
“Remember what we said?”
Hearing the concern in her voice, your head snap towards her. You studied her face for a moment ahead of trying to give a convincing smile.
“Yes. I have 360 and my location on, my phone is on 100%—”
“Check in every 30 minutes, even if it’s just a word. And if he gets weird: lock yourself in the bathroom and I’ll come get you.”
Oh, the joys of being a woman simply going on a date.
You nod your agreement, understanding the terms fully. While your first date went well, there were added stressors to this one. Without warning, Amanda was running at you, her small arms wrapping around your torso as well as they could.
“You’re going to be okay,” she muttered, but you felt maybe she was saying it more for herself.
Your arms wrapped around her tiny frame, hugging her tightly. Even with the weight of uncertainty, you still managed: “I’m going to be fine.”
Your heart sped more with each step, almost drowning out the sound of your heels echoing on the tile as you walked through the hallways. By the time you were crossing the sidewalk towards your Uber, your knees started to shake. You stared at the silver car as your pace slowed.
This was it, the car that would deliver you to whatever fate had in store for you.
After confirming your name, you crawled into the back seat. As the car pulled away from the building, your stomach twisted violently, as if you were free falling through the air with nothing to grab on to. The reality fully sitting in as your breathing quickened.
Your phone chimed from your purse:
‘on ur way? :)’
You didn’t reply; instead staring at the message as you sunk further into the faux leather seat. You double checked everything on your phone once more: Location on, Life360 sharing with Amanda, battery on 98 percent. The address he had texted you was nearby, luckily. It wouldn’t take her long to get to you if you did need her.
After a deep inhale through your nose, you replied as you slowly exhale through pursed lips until there was nothing left:
‘Yup! I’m almost there.’
The sound of a soft click keeping perfect rhythm almost slipped passed your ears; you glanced up, seeing an orange light flashing in time with the sound. You were close, you had followed the direction on the maps app on your phone about ten times, plotting out when to text Amanda; and this was it.
‘Almost to the place. Talk in 30.’
The car stopped moving, yet you just sat still; staring blankly at your phone.
“Uh… Ma’am?”
You shook your head, trying to realign your vision, glancing at the man behind the wheel.
“Oh, sorry. Thank you,” you croaked as you shoved the door open. Your heels clicked against the concrete as you stepped out into the dim glow of the fading sun. As soon as the door closed and you turned your back, the silver car was was speeding away.
You scanned the building, double checked the address, and you were sure your legs would give out from under you. It was nothing: an empty brick building that looked like it had been painted with tar. Obviously abandoned years ago, made clear by the sun-bleached ‘for rent’ sign in the window.
Your heart jumped into your throat, making it nearly impossible to breathe. Your blurred vision didn’t stop your eyes from darting around the building, and you silently begged that it was a prop that would fall away and reveal the real restaurant behind it.
Where were you? Why didn’t you look up the address to see where you were going? Are you suicidal or just stupid?
Your mind raced, quivering hands diving into your purse to find your phone—but out of nowhere, a deep voice rang out behind you, causing your hand to still as it breached the flap of your bag.
“Shortcake! You made it.”
Somehow, you managed to swiftly gather yourself, forcing a smile as mask to cover the fear lurking just below the surface. Turning towards him as you compelled the corners of your mouth to pull upwards.
“Wow…” It fell from his tongue with no thought. He stared; actually gawked. His jaw hanged slack, basking in the entirety of your form, in every dip and swell concealed beneath the soft black dress. “Your dress…”
You watched him slowly drink you in, shameless but appreciative. Your dress was low cut enough to show the curve of your neck, but covered the expanse of your shoulders. The way the black fabric stretched across your hips, the slit in the skirt offered a teasing peek of the soft skin just above your knee.
With small hearts reflecting in the depths of those blue eyes that seemed to threaten to steal your breath, he looked back into your eyes. The once forced smile you wore shifted into something genuine without you realizing.
“You look stunning. How are you more beautiful every time I see you?”
“Thank you,” you say softly, but his sweet words that threatened to make you blush didn’t quite hold enough power to achieve it. Not when the address you gave Amanda was a nothing more than a vacant building.
“But um…” You shot a glance at the darkened building over your shoulder once more, feeling your stomach flip and acid burn your throat. “It looks like the restaurant is closed…”
Daniel’s jaw ticked, his adams apple bobbed as he swallowed. One of his hands slid into the pocket of his slacks, the other combed through his hair, the curl of hair that always refused to stay in place fell forward against his forehead.
“Please, don’t be mad.”
You waited a couple of seconds, but the only sound he made was the small slap of his palm slapping his thigh as he dropped his arm to his side. You observed closer; his eyebrows were slightly drawn upward, the once large smile now looking more forced.
“I can’t promise I won’t be,” you replied, holding his gaze.
His smile fell completely, and you swore you could see the vein jumping in his neck like his heart was racing—and that was because it was. Although Daniel was always cool and calculated, you never failed to crack his shell.
“Forgive me for lying, Y/N. I shouldn’t have.” His gaze dropped to your feet. “This isn’t where I planned on taking you…”
As he confessed, your heart kicked into overdrive, hammering in your throat as you struggled to swallow it down.
“I just-I wanted to surprise you,” he muttered, shame dripping from his words. His black oxford shoe scuffed against a pebble in front of him, kicking it away from the both of you, refusing to meet your glare. “It was stupid of me.”
“Daniel?”
His entire body went rigid as you spoke his name, but he still peeped up at you through his lashes like a kicked puppy.
“Wanting to surprise me isn’t an excuse for lying after I told you I would rather have my own ride.” How you managed to keep your tone so firm was beyond you, especially when your knees were almost rattling together under the long skirt of your dress.
Your words hit him harder than any punch ever had—because you were right. His face drew into a pout, complete with downcast eyes and a frown, drooped shoulders adding to the disappointment emitting from him.
“I’m so sorry,” he choked, shoving his other hand into his pocket, spine bending forward. “I didn’t think it through.”
If you weren’t so terrified, it would honestly be a entertaining sight; adorable even. Daniel: 6’3”, about 240 pounds of muscle, dressed in a full suit… and standing in front of you with his head down as if you were beating him.
“Daniel, please—”
He flinched, a full bodied shudder like your words could physically cut him.
“Stop being dramatic,” you huffed, folding your arms over your chest. “It just isn’t a good look, you know?”
He nodded frantically, quickly agreeing with your criticism before whispering, “I know.”
Risking a glance at you, it finally clicked. The breath left is lungs in a harsh hiss as his heart shattered in his chest. The look in your eyes, the shimmer that revealed what you were trying to hide. It was something he’s seen plenty of times, been the reason for more than he could ever attempt to count. You were scared; and for once, he regretted being the cause of someone’s fear.
“Y/N...” His hands came from his pockets, instinctually reaching towards you; but he stopped himself, twisting his fists to his chest.
“You’re right,” he spoke fervently, the tightening in his throat not slowing the words from spilling out, “of course you’re right. I shouldn’t have tricked you. Please believe me, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
You didn’t budge, staying firm in your stance, somehow tricking yourself into thinking you were braver than you actually were. Though it probably was only due to the fact that a man who looked like he could pick up a small car was cowering in front of you.
“Let me make it up to you,” he pleaded, words almost disintegrating in the space between you. “I’ll do anything.”
“Give me the address of where you want to take me,” you demanded.
“Yes, yeah!” He nodded again, retrieving his phone from his pocket.
You followed suit, bringing your own out and forwarding his message to Amanda. You waited for a response, only getting question marks which led to your phone ringing. You answered, openly staring at Daniel as you explained what happened.
“Put me on speakerphone.”
“No,” you reply firmly, “I’m not doing that. I’m…” You fell silent, seeing the desperation in Daniel’s face. His face turning red as he held his breath, silently begging you for another chance.
“… I’m going to hear him out.”
The phone jerked away from your ear as curses and screams blared into your eardrum. After threatening the both of you, she was reduced to huffs and you were able to finish.
“I’ll text you when we get to the restaurant.”
Daniels spine straightened, a grin splitting his face as you hung up, avoiding more of Amanda’s high pitched protests. Your hand, still clutching your phone, jerked towards him to point a finger at his face as yours twisted into a scowl.
“This is the only time I will overlook a lie… Only because I can almost see why you would do it.”
“I promise, it wasn’t—”
“I believe you,” you said, cutting off his explanation. “Let’s just try to turn this night around.”
He agreed, bringing his keys from his pocket as he gestured towards a black car by the curb. Maybe it was a bad idea—it did sound like the beginning of a horror movie—but you followed him away from the vacant building, even as your brain and heart waged a war inside you.
A short, but silent, ride in a car that looked like it cost more than everything you owned collectively. You memorized the logo on the steering wheel, committing it to memory so you could look it up later. Something resembling a trident, and it was everywhere. On every headrest, the gear shift, even the small analog clock on the center of the dash.
You thought you knew what a new car smelled like—you didn’t. It was richer than any of the synthetic sprays, leather and warmth that you had nothing to compare to. You were so lost in admiring the interior, seeing the pride that went into every red stitch that lined every curve, you didn’t notice the extravagant building looming beside you until you felt the car stop.
“We’re here,” he whispered, shattering the silence of the cab. Your face snapped towards the window, seeing a young man in a red jacket trotting towards you.
“Where is ‘here’?”
“The Gilded Dish.”
He slid out his door, quickly making his way around to open yours. You ignored his outreached hand, standing on your own. He closed your door, trying to ignore the pain shooting through his chest at your denial, yet knowing he deserved it. You sent the text you promised before observing your surroundings.
The sound of a water fountain quickly found your ears, the only sound besides the traffic buzzing in the distance. Extravagant wasn’t a strong enough word, the place oozed wealth, practically laughing at your off-the-rack dress. Floor to ceiling windows, staff waiting to take keys, an abstract sculpture looming just inside the glass door.
Knowing he was pressing his luck, he still offered an arm, a nervous smile making the muscles in his chin twitch. “Ready?”
Feeling out of your element, you stepped closer, wrapping a hand around the firmness of his forearm.
“I thought we agreed on nothing fancy?”
“No,” his hand rested against the back of yours as he lead you to the door, “you said you didn’t see the point in spending so much on food. I said I did.”
You couldn’t argue, that was true. So, you remained quiet as you stepped inside. Walking through the door, you were met with the strong smell of wood, something you could confidently say had never been the first thing you’d noticed stepping into a restaurant. Spices and herbs lingered, but the musk of oak was almost overpowering.
A short woman appeared from behind a curtain, skin and bones with long black hair. She tried—and failed—to be welcoming as she scanned you, subtly unimpressed with what she was seeing. She asked for a name, seemingly uncaring to the presence of either of you.
“Daniel Sideris.”
Her neck audibly popped as her head snapped towards him, ignoring the open book on the podium in front of her to look at him with wide eyes and mouth agape.
“Oh! Of-of course! Mr. Sideris!” She swiftly straightened her posture, seemingly trying to make herself appear taller as one hand gestured towards a doorway. “Right this way.”
She turned and lead the way into a quiet dining room. The smell of wood faded, replaced purely by savory scents hanging like smoke in the air. You examined the dining room, you immediately felt foolish for thinking the outside looked so fancy because holy shit.
Deep purple fabrics draped from the walls, ebony wood tables with white ceramic plates and glassware strategically placed on top, a golden stand proudly holding a single white candle in the center. Then there was the open kitchen, which was something you thought only existed on television. A quiet hum of conversations gently overpowered by the lull of a piano being played from the corner of the room.
You were lead to a secluded table, bumping against Daniel’s side as you drank in the environment. He released your hand after a small squeeze, then pulled a chair, waiting patiently. Deciding not to press his luck, he didn’t allow his eyes drop to the top of your dress as you sat below him.
After carefully nudging your chair forward, he slid into his own across from you. “Have you been here before?”
He was obviously trying to make small talk; or maybe just get you to say something to show you didn’t hate him. You had to choke back a laugh, your chest tight as you held your breath. Only, he wasn’t laughing.
“Are you being serious?”
He studied you as if he was trying to solve a math equation. “I am.”
The laugh sprung out, your head tilting back as your mouth hinged open, hands coming to grip your stomach. You couldn’t hold back at the seriousness in his tone, or stop when every eye in the room narrowed at you.
Though he wasn’t sure what he had done to be graced with that rich sound, he relished in it anyway. He sighed deeply as the tightness in his shoulders melted.
“What’s so funny?”
You gained your composure, shaking your head from side to side as your laughter trailed into giggles.
“I’ve never even been in the driveway before,” you finally said as the grin clung to your face. “Fine dining isn’t really my thing.”
“Hmm…” His elbows came to the table, fingers steepling under his chin. “I doubt that, shortcake. Something tells me you just haven’t given it a chance before.”
“I just don’t see the point of spending a so much money and having nothing to show for it,” you retorted, pulling a menu to your face. While you had always been curious, you couldn’t justify spending so much and risk not enjoying it.
“But you will have something to show for it...”
The single white page lowered as you peered over it at him with your brows scrunched together, being met with dreamy eyes and a warm smile.
“A full stomach and a memory,” he finished. “The menu changes, too, so you’ll never have the same thing here twice.”
“Never?”
His response was a simple head shake.
“What if I like what I order and want it again?”
“I’ll make it for you,” he replied without hesitation, giving a small shrug of a shoulder to convey how little he cared to do so.
The cardstock held in your grip found its way to the table in front of you, though your fingers still held on. He just smiled at you, admiring the subtle shock written on your face.
“You cook?”
“No, but I’ll learn.”
His response came natural as rain, timely and genuine. Daniel knew he would do anything to be the reason you smiled, even if it meant taking up a hobby he was sure would make him the butt of every joke between his subordinates. None of that mattered, not if it meant hearing your laugh or being graced with the warmth of your smile.
Out of nowhere, a man with a thin mustache and upturned nose appeared at the side of your table, causing you to jump when he spoke, carefully extenuating every syllable of every word.
“Good evening, Mr. Sideris. I apologize for your—” He paused, glancing downwards at you, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. “—wait… Would you like to begin your experience with a bottle wine?”
‘Experience’? It was dinner. Also: nice jab at your weight. How original!
Your eyes dropped back to the menu, trying to ignore the way your throat threatened to close and chest tightened. Daniel noticed your discomfort immediately, side-eyeing the server with an unapproving glare.
“Apologize.” It was one word, spoken level and controlled, but it held that sharpness. The same deep, dark tone you’d been stressing over. “Make it convincing.”
Before you could even fully look at him, the server was already starting his fast-spoken apology. His eyes were closed, shoulders bent towards you in a bow, head dropped in either shame or fear.
“I apologize, Miss. That was incredibly rude of me; I had no right to speak that way.” Terror made his frame tremble enough for his voice to shake. “I don’t know what possessed me. Please forgive me.”
“It… It’s okay,” you whispered, brain malfunctioning as a million questions flooded your skull.
“It’s not okay,” Daniel chimed in before turning his attention back to the smaller man.
“My favorite wine,” he said firmly, holding the man’s eyes with an intensity that made a chill run down your spine. “And have someone else bring it out. I don’t want to see you again.”
The server darted from your table, shouldering through a black door—never to be seen again throughout the night.
Turning your attention back to Daniel, you watched as a single hand tugged the buttons of his jacket open and a finger hooked in his tie to pull it slack. Slow and calm, like his tone alone the most threatening thing you’d ever heard outside of something echoing through a theater.
“I’m sorry, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that,” he muttered, quiet and remorseful, a steady hand came to rest on the table. “He won’t bother you again, I promise.”
“Daniel?” You watched as his brows raised slightly at his name. “I have a question.”
“Of course! Ask away.”
Though you weren’t sure he would tell you the truth, or if you even wanted to know the truth, you drew in a steadying breath.
“What do you do for a living?”
His lips quirked into a smirk, yet something flickered in the depths of those ocean blues. “I own a few businesses.”
“A few? Impressive,” you remarked; and it really was. “That’s really interesting. What kind of businesses?”
“Just a couple of corner stores. A laundry mat, a nightclub. Boring stuff, really,” he said casually.
A new server arrived as he was finishing, remaining silent until Daniel was. As he presented a green bottles label to Daniel, who barely glanced, telling him everything about the wine from its name to the year it was bottled. After a small nod of approval, you watched as the server uncorked the bottle.
It was incredibly thought through, every flick of the man’s wrist was done with intent. You never knew up to that point that there was a way to open wine without either the signature POP or the small splash that always found a way to your white shirt. He poured nothing more than a small taste into a glass in front of Daniel.
“That doesn’t sound boring at all.” You glance at Daniel, who is watching you carefully track every movement of the server. If he hadn’t of ended up being such a dick, you would have kind of felt back for mentally berading the first server who called it a experience.
You watched as Daniel lifted the glass by the stim, swirling the deep burgundy liquid in the wine glass, carefully studying the way it clung to the crystal.
“It is,” he said flatly, bringing the glass to his lips to take a small sip.
It was all so natural, something he had obviously done to the point of becoming muscle memory. His glass came to the table with a click, he gestured towards the glass. The server gave a small bow before filling your glass before Daniel’s, every movement smooth and steady.
The smaller man spoke after placing the cork beside the wine bottle on the table, “I believe you haven’t been served. I apologize for the inconvenience. Would you like to hear the specials?”
You gasped as you realized you’d been too busy watching the man pour wine and using your menu as a mask instead of actually looking at it. Hands quickly jerking the paper from the table—and quickly realizing you didn’t know how to even begin how to pronounce most of the words punched onto the paper. Your internal panic didn’t go unnoticed.
“Take your time, cupcake,” he whispered sweetly. “If you have questions, ask. That’s why our server is here.”
His voice wrapped around you like velvet, comforting your growing anxiety. After a couple of questions, and a very patient server, you’d ordered chicken, though you still weren’t sure what it consisted of. Daniel ordered some lamb dish, the words rolling off his tongue effortlessly. Another bow, then it was just the two of you again.
“I have no idea what I just got,” you joked, reaching for the glass of wine. As you took a drink, the rich and earthy with hint of sweetness flavor coated every crevice of your mouth.
He chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Why did you order it then?”
“Chicken is safe,” you said as if it were fact; and it just made his smile break into a grin.
“Fair. So, you asked about me—” That reminded you that you got a barebones answer. Why wouldn’t someone his age not want to brag about being a business owner? “—now it’s your turn. What do you do?”
You never really liked your job; the pay was shit and the customers were even worse, but the management was great and your co-workers were nice. Still, comparing a retail position to a owning businesses was enough to make your face feel warm.
“Oh, I, um… I work at Stitch and Stone at the mall.”
His brows furrowed. “The home goods store?”
“Yeah.” You almost grimaced, teeth clamped together tightly. “That’s it.”
“Okay, yeah. I wanted to make sure I had the right place,” he said as his expression relaxed. “I’ve never been. Do you like working there?”
“It’s okay.”
“Hmm…” He hummed as he observed you closely. “That wasn’t very believable.”
“No,” you quickly rebutted, “as far as retail goes, it’s the best place I’ve worked. It’s just… Well, retail.”
You smiled sheepishly, he chuckled again. You nearly didn’t catch yourself leaning forward to follow the warmth of the sound.
“Well, let me know if you’re ever looking for something else.”
A laugh bubbled up into your throat, caught behind a swift hand moving to your lips. Your hand left to take your wine glass as you tilted your head.
“Why? Do you have a job for me?”
While you meant it as a tease, he swallowed hard, trying to force away the filthy images invading his mind. He shifted in his chair, leaning forward onto his arms folded across the table, doing his best to ignore the stirring in his slacks.
“You could say that,” he murmured; and then it was like a lightbulb went off in his head. His lips curled into a mischievous smirk, an eyebrow lifting, before adding, “Or I could just take care of you.”
Shock filled your face, your eyes opening wide and breath hitching in your throat. Daniel laughed, full bodied, perfect teeth shining in the flickering candle light.
“I’m kidding… kind of.”
You cleared your throat, trying to ignore how your ears burned, using your wine as an excuse to prolong the timing of your response. You watched him over the rim of your glass, trying to somehow mentally dissect him.
“So,” you began, sitting your glass back to the table, “tell me more. Do you enjoy your work?”
You were prying; there was just something that made you feel like he was hiding something. Not that he was lying, just that he wasn’t telling the whole truth.
“It’s okay,” he replied with a smirk.
“Using my own words against me? That’s rude.”
He chuckled, leaning backing in his chair, a finger fidgeting the fork in front of him. “I’m just always talking about work. I’ll tell you anything else.”
“Okay then,” you agreed, folding your arms on the table and leaning forward, filing away his lack of response for later. “Tell me something then. Do you have family nearby?”
“Not really, no. I have two sisters, but they live a few hundred miles away. My parents are in Greece.”
“Greece?” Your eyebrows raised.
He nodded, explaining that they moved overseas after retirement, leaving him a single corner store he turned into multiple. You would be lying you if you said you weren’t impressed. The hard work it would take, the dedication he must have. While he openly talked about his sisters, bragged about his parents, yet every time you tried to dig into more about his businesses, the conversation would shift.
Eventually, you were talking about your family, him asking the questions. As you fell into a spill about your home life, the server delivered the food, setting down the most beautiful looking plate of food you had ever seen. Not a single drop of pink on the rim of the edge of a white bowl, mushrooms soaking a creamy red sauce pooling around a steaming chicken breast resting perfectly centered.
After checking, the server refilled your wine glasses before disappearing once more. Daniel watched as you ritualistically sent a text message, then wasted no more time to saw into your food with a fork and knife. As you took your first bite, you realized this was, in fact, an experience.
You both fell quiet as you enjoyed the bold flavors of your dish. Daniel offered you a bite of his, which was even better than what you had. Perfectly cooked lamb that was so tender, it nearly melted like butter on your tongue. You hummed your approval, to which he was already cutting off another piece for you. Though you said no, a small pile of perfectly bite sized pieces piled on the edge of his plate.
The candle flickered between you, silence only broken by random scrapes of a fork or clink of glass—yet it was comfortable. Though he remained quiet, he smiled every time your hand snuck across the table to grab another taste off his plate.
After a while, your fork and knife rested on your nearly empty plate, your stomach full and taste buds still dancing.
“So,” he said smugly, sitting his silverware on a clean plate, already knowing the answer. “What’s the verdict? Did I open your eyes to the world of fine dining?”
“Ha-ha,” it came out flat, even as you stifled the smile threatening to break out. “It was better than I expected, I’ll give you that.”
“I think you might have enjoyed it more than you’re letting on.”
“Hey,” you playfully snipped, narrowing your eyes as the corners of your mouth lifted, “I said it was better than I expected. But I can’t tell you if I enjoyed it until I see the bill.”
Daniel’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Why would you do that?”
You returned his confusion. “Daniel, this place is ridiculously expensive. No prices on the menu was a dead giveaway. And if you think I’m the kind of woman who doesn’t carry her own, who only—”
“I know you do,” he interrupted with a small nod. “But I asked you out, Y/N. You aren’t paying.”
“You paid last time. It’s only right.”
“I said no, shortcake. Besides, I do need to make it up to you for lying, right?” His eyes crinkled as he smiled warmly. He leaned forward, a large hand reaching across the table to gently take yours.
“Please, don’t argue,” he said softly, his thumb brushing across the back of your hand a tenderness that made your heart flutter. His blue eyes continuing to beg, even while his mouth remained closed.
“Okay,” you muttered, fingers curling around his hand. “But let’s do something that won’t require the selling of a kidney next time.”
His thumb stilled, a wide grin slowly overtaking his face. “‘Next time’?”
You hadn’t realized you said it, but now you were looking across the table as Daniel was looking at you like a dog that just heard their favorite word. Your smile grew as you watched his proverbial tail wag eagerly.
“Don’t let it go to your head. You’re still on thin ice.”
He leaned forward on an elbow, wiggling his eyebrows. “Good thing I know how to skate.”
You chuckled, rolling your eyes, trying to bite back the laugh that strained your throat. “You’re an idiot.”
“Probably, but you laughed.”
You pulled your hand out from under his, playfully slapping his forearm, trying not to let yourself giggle like a little girl. “Shut up!”
His other hand came up, capturing yours, pressing your palm firmly against his forearm. Your smile fell, eyes dropping to your hand sandwiched between his warm skin and soft sleeve. Butterflies flapped wildly in your stomach, throat suddenly bone dry.
“You say that a lot, don’t you?”
“What?” Your eyes jerked back to his while your cheeks stained pink. “Wha-No? No! Shut—”
You cut off your words and Daniel laughed, his fingers lacing between yours, dwarfing your hand completely under his. The heat from his palm soaked into the back of your hand, sending a fresh wave of pink up your neck to color your face deeper. While your eyes were focused on him, the server reappeared.
“Miss,” the small man bowed towards you before turning back to Daniel. “Mr. Sideris. I trust everything was to your standards?”
“It was,” he replied, never looking away. His hand tightened subtly, not wanting to lose the contact between you.
“Marvalous. May I interest you in dessert?”
“What do you think, cupcake?” Daniel’s voice dropped to a teasing mutter, “Want something a slice of cake or am I sweet enough?”
“Cheesy,” you scoffed, though it held no true bite. “But no, I’m stuffed.”
He agreed, removing his fingers from between yours, but pushing your palm into his sleeve in a silent request. He reached into his jacket, shuffling around for a moment; and in his concentration, his gaze dropped to your lips. As he traced the outline of the color on your lips, he forgot what he was doing.
He blinked, his card emerged, landing in the hand of the server. That was the transaction, you never even had the chance to see the bill.
His hand came back to yours that never moved. He gushed about how wonderful of a time he had, tossing in sweet compliments about your dress. You couldn’t lie, you had a great time, minus the terrifying start… And seeing him take that same tone with the first server.
After his card was returned, he decided to live up to the title of idiot: “I hope we can do this again soon. Can I give you a ride?”
“Daniel…”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
Your hand pulled out from under his, grabbing your phone.
“Will I hear from you again?”
It caught you off guard, your thumbs freezing on your screen for a split-second before ordering your ride home. Another text, then your phone was resting on the table in front of you. Daniels arm was still reached across the table, silently begging for the contact that was taken from him too soon.
“Yeah,” you said softly, the corners of your lips forced downward as you tried not to grin stupidly. “Of course you will.”
He beamed, eyes almost crinkling shut as the grin overtook his face. “Great! That’s great!”
Then he was surging to his feet, shuffling around the table excitedly. One hand coming to the back of your chair in preparation to pull it out, the other palm up in offering. This time, you took his hand, letting him help you up.
He wrapped your hand around his arm, smiling down at you, walking you away from the evidence of the most delicious meal you had ever had in your life. The only time he released you was to hold the door and let you walk through first. By the time you had made it outside, a familiar ping rang out from your purse.
You glanced up, seeing the black Toyota matching the description from the app waiting for you. Repeating the same actions as your first date, Daniel lead you to the car when you pointed it out, making the man driving give him your name before releasing you. He tugged the door open, stepping out of your way.
“Let me know when you make it?”
You looked down at the back seat, then back at Daniel. Ignoring the tightness in your chest, the nerves threatened make your hands shake, you stepped forward. Pushing up onto your toes, a hand coming to his shoulder to steady yourself. He didn’t move, aside from leaning down enough for your lips to connect with his cheek.
“I had a nice time,” you said as you looked up at his red face, knowing your own was burning just as bright. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” he breathed, eyes fixed on your lips as he fought to keep himself from kissing you. From pressing his palms against the plumpness of your cheeks and taste the wine that stained your lips.
You said your goodbyes before you slid into the back seat, him giving you one last once-over before closing the door. You waved through the window as he took a couple of steps back, jamming his hand in his pockets with a large smile, waving back with the other. Then the car was moving, pulling out from the covered entrance way to begin your trip home.
“This is the first time I’ve ever picked anyone up from here,” the driver remarked, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “Looks real nice.”
“It is,” you said with a smile, pulling your phone out to let Amanda know you’re on your way back. You turned to the window, looking out at the glow of the streetlights passing by. “It’s incredible, really.”
Though you still had questions, you had a bit of a better understanding of Daniel. You learned about his family… Kind of. Two sisters and he hinted that his parents were originally from Greece. He also managed slipped in a not-so-subtle brag about bench pressing 500 pounds while talking about helping his parents move.
As your mind retraced the conversations, you thought perhaps the way he was on the phone had something to do with one of his businesses. He seemed nonchalant, but it would have to be stressful to be the backbone for five businesses. That had to be it.
As far as the first server went, he deserved to be scolded, and you wouldn’t be completely truthful if you said it wasn’t nice that he was so willing to stand up for you. Still, the way the server reacted was interesting. The staff seemed to know his name, so maybe he had some kind of pull there, being a businessman and all. That made sense, right?
Though it started rough, it ended with you feeling as if you were floating. Daniel couldn’t be a bad guy, not when he looked at you with hearts beating in his eyes or held your hand like it was the only thing anchoring him to the ground. Besides, you had his full name now, and you knew Amanda would be doing a deep dive once she had it.
Between the two of you: you would find out exactly who Daniel Sideris was.
Manifesting for myself, hot guy and knowing how to drive. She's living the dream.
TBH when he was all like "But I want to surprise you" 👉👈
I would have been like bet. Pick me up at a public location.
Ahh! Thank you, boo! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) I'm so glad you like it!
Knowing how to drive isn't all it's cracked up to be, in my opinion. The road is SCARY and I drive as little as I can.
Haha! I like to think (like I Daniel isn't a creation of my brain) he just wants to extend his time around you, even if it means he accidently comes off too strong. Like, he doesn't realize it's creepy to know where you live after meeting twice. He just wants to chauffeur you around to bask in your glow.
I hope you'll like Part 5! I can't wait to hear your feedback when it comes out. ♡
Okay so. I've been going HAM on Buff!MalexChubby!Reader story. I would say I'm about 3/4 finished, but it's already 5k words.
Oopsie... (￣▽￣*)ゞ
So, I'm just curious:
Would you rather:
Get a part 4.5 and get two shorter parts this week?
Wait until Friday and get a long part 5?
Voting ended onMay 28, 2025
I'll give it until the time this poll ends before making a decision. If the first option wins, I'll post as soon as it ends. Otherwise, I'll post on Friday (5/30).
Thanks for being here, by the way. I can't express how much I appreciate the interactions. I hope I you enjoy the way I put words together. ♡
The results are in!
Part 5 will be released Friday!
Thanks for casting your votes, my lovelies!! (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)
I seriously can't express how much I appreciate every single person who has followed me or liked my posts. *gives you a little forehead kiss* ♡
Okay so. I've been going HAM on Buff!MalexChubby!Reader story. I would say I'm about 3/4 finished, but it's already 5k words.
Oopsie... (￣▽￣*)ゞ
So, I'm just curious:
Would you rather:
Get a part 4.5 and get two shorter parts this week?
Wait until Friday and get a long part 5?
Voting ended onMay 28, 2025
I'll give it until the time this poll ends before making a decision. If the first option wins, I'll post as soon as it ends. Otherwise, I'll post on Friday (5/30).
Thanks for being here, by the way. I can't express how much I appreciate the interactions. I hope I you enjoy the way I put words together. ♡
"Are you a snake?
Because I’d let you hiss sweet nothings into my ear."
⚠ Content Warning: Flash fiction, Adult content, Clothed sex (M+Gender Neutral Reader), Use of slang for genitals (dick, cock), Useless reptile facts.
Context: Your best friend invited you over for a normal hang out session, but he looks so hot when he talks about his interests.
Word count: 655
Your thighs stuck to the faux leather of your nerdy!best friend’s couch, making a slichhh sound every time you peeled them from the warm cushions. The television flickered in the background, a deep voiced narrator giving a detailed play-by-play of a leopard gecko fighting a scorpion.
You came over to hang out regularly, which always lead to you listening to him ramble about his newest hyperfixation. This time? Reptiles.
Your head tilted towards him perched on the other end of the couch as he was breaking down each stage of the regrowth of lizard tails. You weren’t sure when it happened, but sometime over the years, listening to his passionate babbling started making something in your chest tighten… And heat pool in the pit of your tummy.
“Oh!” His voice went up an octave as he looked over at you, pushing his thin silver-framed glasses back up by the bridge with his index finger. “And did you know when a rattlesnake shakes its tail, it’s muscles are actually moving faster than a hummingbird’s wings while hovering!”
His excitement to be able to gush about his current favorite topic was palitible, the intensity in his tone sending sparks down your spine. He wore a wide grin as he maundered on, those brown eyes shining brightly behind his glasses.
He took a deep breath before spewing out another fact—something about snakes and legs—but your eyes were fixed on how his fingers flexed through the air. How when he paused for a breath, his mouth hung open just enough for the light to catch against the wetness of his tongue.
After all the years of keeping the unspoken feelings concealed just below the surface, the shell cracked, and you broke.
As if someone else was controlling you, you were suddenly on his lap, thighs bracketing his hips. Your fingers threading into the short chocolate hair at the base of his skull, grinding your hips down, and a warm cheek pressed against his as you panted in his ear.
“Don’t stop talking.”
Your hips rolled, his length hardening quickly within the confines of his pants. His hands curled into fists against the vinyl couch as your fingers tugged at his soft locks. After a moment of stunned silence, he choked out another factoid.
“Crocodiles some—ah—” His hands shot to your waist, the pads of his fingers dimpling the skin under your shirt. A noise between a whimper and moan toppled from his mouth as you rocked.
“—sometimes eat rocks...”
The bulge in his pants pressed against your clothed core as the wet spot inside his boxers grew. Your teeth nipped his ear, leading to his brain short-circuiting and him completely forgetting every bit of knowledge it once held. While he didn’t know what made the band snap, and he was in no position to even try to give it thought.
His hands tightened, holding you in place as he rutted up against you, groaning like he was buried inside you. His words were replaced with pathetic whimpers and grunts, pulling you down onto his lap with each desperate movement.
You leaned back to see his glasses knocked sideways on his face, the lenses steamed almost opaque; pink cheeks and desperate eyes. You stilled, settling into place on his lap like you belonged there.
“Why would they do that?”
His eyes were practically as fogged as his glasses, looking up at you with a blank expression. He blinked, trying to clear the cloud from his mind and remember what he was saying.
“Eating rocks? That sounds fake,” you accused playfully, pulling your hands from his hair to gently fix his glasses.
That snapped him out of the transe you had him under. He arched an eyebrow, as if you had asked him the stupidest question he had ever heard; even as his dick pressed insistently against your inner thigh.
“… So they can dive into deeper water.”
.°˖✧! ᗯᗩIT !✧˖°.
Before you go; I just wanted to say hi! (°▽°)/
I have been seeing so many of these nerdy!best friend stories lately (don't judge) and UGH. Just wanna' bounce on it and watch the thoughts leave his eyes. Hehehehe.
Anyway, just had to get this out of my head. Hope you like it!
[You know the drill by this point: Tell me how you felt about it! Comments, messages, asks welcomed! Even if I don't reply, I promise I see you and you live rent free in my brain. Also, do we like my spills better down here?]
But first! We must thoroughly understand this man's fractured and devastated sense of self. Only then can we truly appreciate how connected he feels to her while finger-banging the soul from her body.
