drabble word count: 992
warnings: female reader, no y/n, no mention of reader’s appearance, sexual tension, the Twins x Reader (briefly), kissing, mentions of fucking, blowjobs, and boners, jealousy, Oz being angry/jealous/possessive, mild violence, threats.
a/n: another drabble for @penguinweek’s day four; revenge! dividers by @/strangergraphics!! thank you to @genevievedarcygranger for beta-reading, as always! mwah mwah mwah!!!
After weeks of heavy petting and flirting, he's suddenly too busy for you. After giving him head while he counted the profits for the night, he's suddenly too busy for you. After letting him fuck you over the sofa after closing, he's suddenly too busy for you. Oz wants to play hard to get, huh? Oz wants to say he's busy — won't even reply to your texts — but sends the Twins to intercept you going up to his office. That's just fine. With a smile that tastes like revenge, you cross your arms and kick your leg out to the side. You have to think fast, because your pawns are walking back down the catwalk.
"Hey," you coo. "Wait!"
Both the Twins turn, in unison. Their expressions are almost mirrored; questioning, unsure, but trying to uphold their tough guys aren't phased by anything, even hot girls personas.
"Oz sent you two to take care of me, right? So do it."
Your hand drops to your thigh, pulling the hem of your dress even further up, letting the satin slide over the silky smooth flesh. Even in this club lighting, you can see their eyes drop, watching. Hungry. You lean against the railing, arching your back over it slightly. Not enough to tip over, just enough to expose your body to the streaming red lights above. Max licks his bottom lip, looking you over.
They both knew you were Oz's favorite. He doted over you whenever he could, and if there was ever a girl up in his office, it was likely you. That also made a man — or two of them — curious. What was so good about you? They wanted to find out. Desperately.
You grip the lapel of Max's jacket and pull him against you with one hand. Your hand slides down the length of his body until you reach his groin and grip that, too. He laughs — half out of disbelief, half out of arousal — and leans in, just enough for his lips to brush the column of your neck.
"Max," a voice protests from next to you. It's laced with worry, but underneath, there's a hesitation telling you that even he doesn't believe in his cause.
"Don't worry, Charlie, baby… I didn't forget about you. C'mere."
Both men can't resist you, can't resist the way you're whimpering and writhing against their grip. One for either side. Charlie's hand is first to slide between your thighs, massaging the soft, warm flesh there. And that's when you hear it. You hear Oz's voice call your name, and feel the thud of his uneven steps as he makes his way down the catwalk.
"The fuck is this!? Huh?"
You turn your head, moving past Max's head, to look Oz dead in the eyes. Your fingers are still tangled in his belt loops, pulling his erection hard against your hip. With kiss swollen lips, you give him a lazy, open-mouthed smile. Oz is visibly bristling with anger, his scarred mouth is turned downward into a scowl. "Since you sent them to take care of me, I figured I'd have them do just that."
Oz's brows go up on his high forehead. He chuckles once. Twice. Reaches forward and yanks Max off by the collar. His lips disconnect from your neck with a messy pop.
"Ey!"
Charlie pulls away from your collarbone like a dog that's just been scolded for eating something off-limits. Oz shoves Max down the catwalk, sending him stumbling towards the stairs. Charlie lurches away from you, much to your dismay, and you let his jacket slide through your fingertips.
"Either of you touch her again and I break your fuckin' fingers. Y'hear me?"
With no one left to scold, he turns his attention to you. "You wanna' play games, doll? Huh? You picked the wrong fuckin' game to play." Oz grips your wrist and tugs you away from the railing. You're a picture of debauchery; dark red lipstick smeared across your mouth, dress hiked up around your hips…
You bat your lashes at him, smiling coyly. His broad chest rises and falls with each angry breath, and you can't help but reach out, running your manicured fingernail along his chest, pulling one of the buttons from its slit. "I haven't seen you like this in a —"
"Walk," he demands.
"Aw, Oz, baby… are you finally gonna pay attention to me?"
He grunts behind you as you take the stairs, not bothering to fix your appearance as you walk. He's got a view full of your ass as you climb the stairs, and you saunter proudly down the hallway, parting the metal beads with one hand.
Oz ambles up and presses his large body into yours, a little too hard. He muscles you into the corner, pressed up against the glass. He urges his hips against you, and you lace your arms around his thick neck.
"You want attention, huh? You're gonna get every inch of it."
You lean forward, pressing a long, lingering kiss against his mouth. His lips twitch against yours, but don't kiss you back. Not yet.
"Mhm — this is all I wanted, baby…"
Oz growls, deep in his throat, still angry. You can tell. There's a sharpness to his voice that wasn't usually there — not with you.
"C'mon. It got you riled up, didn't it? Seeing the Twins puttin' their hands all over me…" One hand snakes down from his neck over the swell of his gut, and down to his crotch. There's a heat there. You're going to have to work harder than that, it seems.
Oz leans back. Looks at you. "You ain't theirs to touch."
"No?"
"You forget who you belong to, huh?"
You hum. "Maybe… you wanna show me?"
You feel his cock twitch against you at that. Good.
"Show me, Ozzy. Show me."
Oz captures your mouth in a kiss that sends a shudder down your spine. Oh, he's angry-angry.
prompt fill for @penguinweek day 6 (birds) / 2628 words
rating: T
ship: oz x reader
summary: reader is a friend of sofia's and finds her driver very intriguing. during one very bad night at a bar, reader calls oz for a ride home.
tags: big tag for alcohol - reader gets absolutely faced at a bar and ends up puking, femme reader, flirting, new money vs old money politics, reader's in heels, makeup, and a dress
notes: my original piece for the prompt 'birds' was much darker and i wasn't really vibing with it. maybe i'll post it someday :) i've been working on this one for a really long time and didn't wanna post it until i finished chapter 2 but i felt like it was time to set her free.
When Sofia said that she’d arrive at your house, you knew it was only a 50/50 chance that she’d be driving the car herself. One thing you’d noticed about old money was that they almost always had someone to do the bullshit things for them – the driving, the laundry, the cooking. Granted, your family had a modest team of staff but it was nowhere near who was present at the Falcone estate.
A black car pulls up and you smile, checking yourself in the foyer mirror one more time before grabbing your bag. This is the first time you’ve gone out somewhere with Sofia, as opposed to meeting her at the event, so you’ve made sure to pull out the big guns on your outfit and shoe choices.
You take a breath to steady your nerves and walk out the door. As you do, Sofia’s driver exits the car and opens the back door behind his seat, waiting with that practiced patience that all the drivers you’ve interacted with seem to have.
This man’s different though. He’s broad, his suit not-quite tailored to his form, and his big eyes betray an undercurrent of nervousness that other well-to-do staff hardly ever have. When he came out of the car, you caught a limp.
“Hello,” you smile to him as you get in the backseat.
Sofia introduces you to the man, Oz, when he gets back into the car. You tell him you’re charmed to make his acquaintance and he laughs a little and it’s stupidly endearing.
When you get to the event and Oz has pulled away, safely out of earshot, you gently touch Sofia’s wrist to pause her from walking in, “He’s cute.”
“Who?” She looks at where the car had been before Oz pulled off. “My drive’a?”
“Yeah. You don’t think so?”
Sofia laughs softly, shrugging, “I guess I just don’t see him like that.”
The event is an afternoon tea party, which you’d been delighted to dress for but you’re not exactly thrilled to eat at. It’s nice enough all the same, though.
Oz meets up with you both afterward, taking Sofia’s bag and walking you to the car. He looks at Sofia, “You need a cigarette?”
“Desperately, I feel like they took a drill to my temple.”
“I dunno, it wasn’t that bad,” you smile, linking arms with Sofia as Oz lights her a cig. She rolls her eyes and you shrug, “Except the food, oh my God. Rich people don’t know how to eat.”
“Who’s gonna tell Alicia that scones and cucumber sandwiches aren’t a real meal,” Sofia says wryly, taking another puff.
“It looked beautiful but everything was just. So dry, so bland. She’s richer than God, why am I still hungry?”
That earns a snort from Oz. Sofia looks at you, “You want somethin’ to eat?” You nod. “What?”
You give it a thought. “Don’t judge me. Cinnabon.”
Sofia laughs softly, shrugging, “Sure, why not. I think there’s one in that mall – the one with the Sephora?”
You sigh happily, “This almost makes the scones worth it.”
Oz takes you to the mall, letting you both know that he’ll pull around to pick you up when you’re ready. You offer to get him a cinnamon roll and he refuses, though there’s something in his voice that sounds like it might be more for duty than lack of a desire. The idea of getting him one anyway whispers through your mind, but Sofia ends up ordering for you and paying so you don’t get the chance to. When you have your order, you look at her, “Should we get one for Oz?”
“He said he didn’t want one.”
“Yeah, but…”
Sofia hums, “We gotta take him at his word. You know how guys can be.”
You don’t want to argue, especially when Oz is your ride home, though your mind can’t help but go to that look in his eyes when he was looking at you and when he was walking back with you to the car, that anxiety. “You’re right,” you say, but you don’t really believe it.
[%%%]
“You have someone you can call?”
It’s about three months since the tea party and you can barely hear the bartender. You look up, eyes glassed, eyeshadow a mess, and pull out your phone.
You mean to click on your contacts but instead pull up your text threads and scroll past every name that would either get you in trouble for damaging the family reputation or would be a bad idea to be alone with while this intoxicated. (You need better friends.)
Your eyes linger on Oz’s thread. “That could work,” you murmur, pressing the call button.
It rings three times. “Hello? Who’s this?”
“You don’t have my number saved?” Oz says your name, a confused lilt to his voice and a smile tugs at your lips, “Bingo, and good evening to you too.”
“Everything alright?”
“Can’t I just call? My good friend? Best friend?” You chuckle, “I’m full of shit, I need a favor real bad, are you busy?”
“What’s goin’ on?”
“I’m at the bar and don’t tell the bartender – “ a laugh because he’s right beside you “ – but I’m super fucked up, unbecoming of a fine young lady or whatever the fuck, you know I don’t subscribe to–”
“I gotcha, Doll, where are you?” It takes a moment to remember where you are but you tell him and he says, “I’ll be there in fifteen, alright, don’t go anywhere.”
“I owe you my life,” you smile, hanging up.
Oz comes in record time, walking into the bar and you forget why you’re even upset. You smile despite the fact that he looks super concerned, “Hey, hey,” he says as he comes over to you. “You alright? Doin’ okay?”
You nod, “Better now I think.”
“Good, good.” He pulls back to look at your feet, “Alright, you’re in some very tall shoes so hold onto me when you stand up, Sweetheart.”
“It’s okay, I can do kung fu in these,” you say smiling as you hop off the barstool.
You do stumble just slightly but he’s sturdy and strong, putting an arm around you, “I’m sure. You got everything, bag and coat?”
“Just need bag,” you hold it up.
“Perfect, let’s get’cha home.”
You feel fine walking out of the bar but a wave of nausea hits you as soon as you walk into the parking lot. “Gimme, ah, gimme like one second,” you say and he’s looking at you with that concerned face again until you step away from him and proceed to vomit right next to a trash can.
“Fuck,” you groan. “That…was not very demure, sorry.”
Oz laughs which makes you feel better. You spit and then open your bag to fish out a napkin, wiping your face (and tossing it properly into the trash.) You go back over to him and he puts his arm around you like you didn’t just puke three appetizer plates in front of him. “You got a hair thing on you? I can help you pull it back just in case it happens again.”
“You’re always so nice to me,” you murmur, opening your bag. You dig around a bit until you find a scrunchie, handing it to him.
When you arrive at the car, he has you brace yourself on it as he, very carefully, puts your hair in a ponytail. He smiles when he looks at you, opening the back door and gesturing for you to get in.
“I’m gonna go nice and slow,” he says as he starts the car up. “It’s alright if you need me to pull off. I’d, uh, appreciate it if you didn’t throw up in here.”
You nod, “Got it, yeah, of course. Thank you again, I…I didn’t really know who else to call.”
“It’s all good, Sweetheart.” He pulls out of the parking lot, slowly as promised. “You don’t gotta speak on this but I couldn’t help but notice you’re a little…”
“Shitfaced.”
“Yeah.” Oz shrugs, “Happens to the best of us, of course. Though – drinkin’ like that is usually because you’re celebratin’ or ‘cause it’s been a real bad night. And you didn’t exactly look like you were poppin’ Champagne.”
You snort, “It was vodka Red Bull.”
“Jesus.”
“I got stood up,” you say, answering his not-quite-unasked question. You clear your throat, the reality of it only bringing more tears to your eyes. “Got stood up by a guy I really liked, ate my body weight in mozzarella sticks and shitty bar nachos about it, which you, uh…probably saw.”
“I’m real sorry about that, Sweetheart. That’s such shit, can’t even give you the dignity of an excuse ah’somethin’? Ain't right.” He looks at you in the rear view mirror. “You okay?”
“I just feel like an idiot, I don't know,” your voice cracks when you say it and that kind of only makes you feel more pathetic.
“No, no, c'mon, yer not an idiot. You're smart, funny. Beautiful. You're a catch, Sweetheart.”
You manage a little smile, “Thank you, that really means a lot.”
“Wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. And frankly, if someone like you’s gettin’ stood up, there ain't no hope fa'the rest of us.”
You giggle and then sniffle, “These stupid guys are just…they don't wanna date, certainly not new money like me.”
“They care about that kinda thing? Ain’t money just…money?”
You shake your head, “It's all – you know. They're like the Falcones, no disrespect. Generational, they all know each other, all that. My dad's only been this rich for like seven years. He's richer than some'a their dads but we didn't come from it so it doesn't matter even though I took all the same classes at the same university and go to the same fucking luncheons.” You rub your temple. “Bullshit problems, sorry.”
“Nah, nah, you're allowed to be upset. Sounds exhaustin’.”
“That's why I like you.”
“Hm?”
You smile to yourself, sweetly. All things considered, it could be much worse. Oz is here, after all, saying all these kind things about you. “This stuff is why I called, I don’t have a lot of people who would pick up the phone.”
“Sorry to hear that too, Doll.”
You shrug. “It’s okay. I’m just…grateful for Sofia, she’s always been a real friend. And knowing her means I had someone to call.” You chuckle softly, looking out the window.
Soon enough, he pulls up to your house. “Alright, Doll, we’re here. You need help inside?”
“Please?”
“I gotcha. Lemme get your door.”
You unbuckle your seatbelt and grab your bag. Oz holds his hand out for you and you take it, carefully getting out of his car. “Mm, oh this sucks,” you laugh, trying not to stumble.
“Almost there. Are we goin’ in through the front?”
You shake your head, pointing to the right, toward the pool. “My suite is over here, I have my own entrance.”
Oz nods, “Don’t wanna wake your parents?”
You scoff and it comes out more bitter than you really mean. “They’re – I don’t even know, maybe it’s the Maldives this week? Or it might’ve been…Austria.” Not that they’d give a shit anyway. “Doesn’t matter, sorry this is how you’re seeing my place for the first time.”
Oz laughs, “I never exactly expected an invitation to any of your events.”
“Why not?”
“I’m just a driver, I don’t do that kinda thing.”
“Hm. Not even at the Falcone estate?” Oz shakes his head. “Well that seems kinda fucked.”
“‘S just how things’a done.”
You walk in silence until you reach your French doors, right by the pool. You nod to it with a smile, “You wanna dip before you go?”
Oz laughs, “Nah, nah, didn’t bring my swimsuit.”
You snort, “Who said anything about swimsuits?”
That makes Oz laugh again and while the lighting is very low, you’re almost sure you see a little blush on his cheeks. You dig for your keys and he clears his throat, “If you’re all set, I should be takin’ off.”
“No, no, can I at least offer you a drink? As a thank you for coming to my rescue.”
“I…probably shouldn’t but – “ he cuts himself off when the lock clicks and you open the door. “Alright. I mean, I oughta make sure you get t’bed okay, right?”
You smile, closing the door and turning the lights on. The lighting change makes everything not feel quite real so you dim them. Better. Oz stands awkwardly in your suite and you smile, coming over to hold onto him while you take your shoes off, sighing happily, “Much better.”
“You’re, uh, a little smaller than I would’ve thought.”
That makes you giggle, “I guess you’ve only seen me all dressed up.” You both share a soft laugh and that’s when you catch your reflection in the mirror behind him, “Oh, God, is that what my makeup looked like all night?”
Oz smiles sympathetically, “You look beautiful.”
“I look like I’ve been crying so much.”
“To your credit, it wasn’t as obvious before you, uh, tossed your cookies.” Oz shrugs, “Y’had a rough night, happens to everyone.”
“Oh!” You say as a thought strikes you, “Oh, oh I know exactly – exactly how to repay you.”
He raises an eyebrow as you go to your dresser, selecting one of the bottles on top – the only bottle of whiskey, “I got it in one of those douchey convention swag bags. I don't really know anyone else who drinks it and I don't drink this stuff by myself. So here, it's yours.”
Oz takes the bottle, looking at it and looking at you, “I can't – I can't accept this.”
“You don't have to drink it now.”
“No, nah, I mean, this is like a $200 bottle of whiskey. Tha’s too much. For me.”
You shrug, “All the more reason it goes to someone who'll actually enjoy it, right?”
“Jesus…”
You chuckle, taking out one of your makeup remover wipes and working on your eyes in the mirror, “Tell you what, I'll help you drink it, if it'll make you feel better. But not tonight.”
He laughs softly, “Alright. Maybe.”
“Though you are invited to stay. If you wanted to stay.” You finish your other eye and turn to look at him. “Bed's plenty big and all.”
“I appreciate the invitation but I…I wouldn't feel right about it, Doll. I know y'ain't in a good headspace right now, I'm not – I'm not that kinda guy.”
You want to tell him that it's his conscience that makes you want to pull him closer but you also know he's right. And, of course, you also don't want to make him uncomfortable. You give him another smile, “Okay. But I do think you're cute when I'm sober too, Sofia can attest.”
“Tha's sweet of ya,” he says with another little smile. “I should probably – took the Family car. Carmine’s. Don’ want him lookin’ for it.”
You smile, “Risky just for me.”
Oz shrugs, “You needed – uh. Help.” He rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat, “Flattered that you called, really. But mostly I’m glad I could be here.”
You smile again, reaching for his hand to kiss it gently. Oz tenses like he doesn’t really know what to do with that and it makes you giggle softly, “Thank you for it. Have a good rest of your night, Oz.”
He nods, finding his voice, “Yeah. You too, ‘m sure I’ll see ya soon.” He turns to leave, opening the door that leads to outside before he pauses, looking back at you, “Take care’a yourself, Sweetheart. Don’t let’em get ta’yah.”
The words make your heart soar and you nod, smiling, “You too. Sweetheart.”
Following the recent poll where 70.3% of people wanted both a Riddler focused event, @riddlerweek, and a Penguin focused event, @penguinweek, I have set up accounts for both of these. More details to follow in the new year!
He takes off Mary Poppins style to avoid folk he doesn't like! (Isnt fun to completely misunderstand meaning of the word because English aint your native language?)
