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justsomerandomfanfic · 2 years

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Purple Rain - Roman Sionis X GN Reader

Title: Purple Rain

Roman Sionis X GN Reader

Part 2 (Could be read alone)

Additional Characters: F/N (Friend's Name), (OC) Fergus, (OC), Bethany, (OC) Claire, (OC) Charles, (OC) Sosha, Victor Zsasz (Mentioned), Dinah Lance (Mentioned), Club goers (Mentioned)

WC: 4,530

Warnings: Alcohol, mentions of bars, clubs, flirty Roman, self-deprecating thoughts, and mentions of sadism

You weren't a party person, never had the urge to go to a bar or anything. It just wasn't what you would call a good time. You would rather curl up in your bed with a good book, not get blackout drunk, and have a killer headache in the morning. That was why you were surprised when your friends invited you to a club at the end of the week. You really didn't want to go. And they knew that. You've had a very busy few days at work, and you just wanted to relax on your weekend. But, when your friend, F/N, promised to take you to one of your favorite author's book signings that following month.

Now, you couldn't really say 'no' to that. You've been saving up to go to that book signing ever since you saw it in the Gotham newspaper. So, reluctantly, you said you would go. I mean, you were going to be with some of your friends, so that was nice. You didn't have to go alone and possibly have to deal with some creepo creeping up on you.

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"Come on! We're going to this club tonight!" F/N exclaimed as they threw their arms around you. "I know it'll be fun, I heard about it from a friend of mine who works there."

You sighed, feeling a little bit uncomfortable about the whole situation. "I said I would go, but I am not drinking, someone has to drive everyone home." You replied and F/N, rolled their eyes.

"You don't need to drink to have fun, trust me." They stated, pulling you along.

It took you a while to figure out where they were taking you, and you started to get worried. Why were you going to a clothing store?

"F/N, why are we going to a clothing store?" You asked, worriedly looking at the store and back to your friend.

They shrugged. "Just come on, I promise you won't regret it."

"But, why a clothing store?" You asked again, confused.

"Because, I'm getting you something for our night out," F/N smiled, and you rolled your eyes again.

"Why isn't what I'm already wearing not good enough?" You asked and F/N paused, turning you in their arms, holding you by your shoulders, giving you a stoic expression.

"Hun, no offense but your clothing choices are pretty boring." They chuckled. "And besides, this place is amazing. Trust me."

You gave them a doubtful look, but then shrugged. What did you have to lose? Maybe it'd be fun. You were hoping it wouldn't be too expensive because you had already spent quite a bit of money paying your last rent check.

When you got inside the store, you were overwhelmed with all the different things to choose from. There were clothes hanging everywhere, and you felt like you were walking into a rainbow. You found yourself being pulled towards the front of the store, where there was a large rack of different types of clothes.

F/N watched in excitement as you hesitantly picked up a white pant suit off the rack. You ran your hand down the material, it was soft, but thick too. It looked like it would fit well, and you thought it would be comfortable to wear.

"That looks nice," F/N whispered to you. "You should definitely try it on."

You nodded, and grabbed the hanger off the rack, carrying it over to the dressing room. But before you could enter the dressing room, F/N stopped you.

They shoved a black, off-the-shoulder satin top in your arms, before pushing you into the dressing room. Blinking, you let out a sigh, looking at the clothes in your arms, you decided to just get it over with. Hanging the suit and top up on a wall hanger, you changed into the outfit. Looking in the mirror, you smoothed the suit jacket down, turning side to side to make sure everything was in place. The pants were a perfect fit, and the jacket sleeves weren't too short. The black, off-the-shoulder top was nice, soft, and smooth against your skin.

You had to admit to yourself that you looked good. Not that you were a vain person, but you always felt better about yourself when you put effort into your appearance. You normally never really dressed up in any way, unless it was for a special occasion, like a wedding. You normally would stick to jeans, T-shirts, and sweaters. And, you were never seen without your black converse.

"You look hot! Don't worry!" F/N called from outside the door, as if they could hear the gears in your head turning. "Come on, let me see!"

You stepped out of the dressing room, letting F/N take a look. They smiled at you, nodding their head.

"Yes! You look great!" F/N exclaimed, looking you up and down, a hand on their waist.

But, they frowned when they saw your shoes.

"We're going to have to get you some shoes, though." They spoke, you looked down at your converse, nervously digging your heel into the floor.

"What type?" You asked and your friend shrugged, a finger on their chin, thinking.

"Either a plain black Greats or maybe a pair of heeled Chelsea boots," F/N answered, before grabbing your arm and leading you back to the side of the store where the shoes were.

You sort of forgot that F/N was a shoe enthusiast.

"I'm not used to heels," You admitted, looking at all the shoes in front of you, feeling slightly overwhelmed.

"I know, but we're going to have to get you some, and don't worry, they aren't that high," F/N spoke, grabbing a pair of black, heeled Chelsea boots and passing them into your arms.

"Besides, with these, your outfit will go from a ten out of ten, to a hundred out of a hundred." F/N smiled.

You smiled nervously and toed off your shoes. Sliding on the heels, holding onto F/N's shoulder for stability, you wobbled a bit but regained your balance quickly. They were a little bit higher than you thought they would be, but after walking around in them for a few minutes, you were warming up to them pretty quickly.

"Okay, let's go!" F/N smiled, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the store, but not before paying, you tried to intervene with your card, but your friend shook their head.

"So, where are we going now?" You asked, looking over at F/N as they walked down the streets of Gotham.

"My place, the rest of our group is already there, hopefully, they haven't raided my fridge!" F/N laughed, squeezing your arm.

"Oh, yeah?" You asked, trying to keep up with them.

"Yeah, I just got more frap mix for my coffee maker, I don't want them wasting it all." F/N giggled.

"You think they'll drink it?" You asked, F/N chuckled.

"Of course, you know Claire, she loves her coffee." F/N shook their head. "Plus, I made some cookies earlier today, so they'll probably eat all those too!"

The walk to F/N's apartment wasn't far away, but you were still mentally exhausted, knowing you'd have to go to a loud and crazy club tonight. Wait, what club were you even going to?

Opening their door, a burst of 'hellos,' and 'heys,' broke out, all of your friends coming over to greet you. Fergus has a degree in philosophy, politics, and economics. He is allergic to hazelnuts, which he absolutely hates talking about. On the side, he loves sewing, making his own clothes, and gifting original outfits and pieces to his friends.

Sosha was the 'Mom' of the group. She always made sure people were doing okay. If you were sick, she's at your door with her homemade chicken soup and medicine. If your car broke down, she's there to pick you up. Sosha was going to college to become a perinatal nurse, which you knew she would be great at.

Bethany, also known as Beth, was fairly new to the friend group. F/N had introduced her to you a few meet-ups ago. Beth was a barista at Gotham Coffee, and in her free time, she was an avid gamer.

Charles was the bad boy, he was either partying or at home with a hangover. But, overall he was a good guy at heart, with a soft spot for his girlfriend, Emma, and his puppies; Ester and Chester.

Then there was Claire, she was the friend who worked at the club they were going to go to that night. She works as a cocktail waitress, and on the side, babysat for people in her neighborhood and volunteered at a homeless shelter when she was free.

Last, but not least, was F/N, they had been your friend since high school. They were with you through thick and thin. And you, them. They were with you after terrible breakups, stupid school tests, and was your partner to every Homecoming. F/N worked as a cosmetologist, working with hair, nails, and skincare. On the side, they were obsessed with shoe brands. If you asked what year the Jordan Airs came out, they knew the exact date.

And, you. You were an artist. You got most of your money from doing art commissions. You've even had a few of your work featured at a few art galleries over the years. Outside of work, you loved to read. You had probably hundreds of books in your apartment, which varied from romance to comedy, to brilliant horror and mystery. Currently, you are reading The Return Of Sherlock Holmes.

Fergus rushed over bringing you into a hug.

"Oh, I haven't seen you in ages! You are looking incredible!" He spoke, before pulling back and seeing the shopping bag in your hand.

Clapping his hands on his cheeks, his eyes basically sparkled as he stared down at the bag. "What did you get? Perhaps a new cute outfit?" He teased you.

"Yep, F/N insisted that I get a new outfit for tonight." You spoke and Fergus basically jumped for joy.

"What did you get, darling? I have to know! Actually, no, go get ready! I want to see the full look!" He spoke, pulling you further into the apartment and down to F/N's bathroom.

Once the door was shut, you sighed. Your friends were a bit much at times, but that didn't stop you from loving them dearly. Even though they could be a bit nosy or extroverted, they were always there for you whenever you needed someone to talk to.

Getting dressed in the full outfit, you brushed your hair from your face, before looking at yourself in the mirror. F/N was right, you looked pretty darn good in the outfit. You knew that you could definitely pull off the look. Looking down at your feet, you noticed that the boots you were wearing weren't exactly the most comfortable thing in the world. Then again, you weren't used to wearing shoes like this.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you anxiously walk back into F/N's living room where the rest of your friends were waiting. You walked over, gaining all of their attention.

"So, what do you all think?" You asked, trying to figure out what most of them were thinking.

"You look great," Claire spoke up, sitting on the couch next to Charles. "You can definitely pull it off."

"I agree," Bethany spoke up, crossing her legs on the couch next to Claire.

"I mean, come on guys! Y/N looks hot, right!?" F/N asked, raising their voice to show their excitement.

Everyone nodded their heads, agreeing with F/N.

"Yeah, you look really good, Y/N. You should wear stuff like that more often. You’re like a B.A. Businesswoman." Sosha spoke, and Fergus nodded fervently.

"Yes, darling! Give us a twirl!" He spoke and you chuckled, feeling a bit better, you did a small twirl, Fergus whistling as you did.

"If I wasn't gay, I'd date you." Fergus joked, and you couldn't help but laugh.

F/N then clapped, walking over to you and taking a strand of your hair in her hand, "Now, I think it's time to get your hair done! Look at those split ends!" F/N smiled, excited to do your hair.

You sat in the chair, while F/N did your hair. You had never gotten your hair done professionally before, so you were a bit nervous. But, F/N was really good at what they did. They had been cutting and styling hair for years now. You honestly felt like you were in a weird rom-com, turning the nerd into some hot wonder, which made you internally laugh.

F/N did the last and final touches, before standing back and looking at their work. "Alright, hun. You're all done. And, might I say, looking hotter than Hell." F/N smiled, giving you a thumbs up.

You chuckled, smiling at them. "Thank you, F/N." You said, looking at your reflection in the mirror.

"Come on, let's go! We don't want to be late." Beth spoke, getting up from the couch and heading towards the door.

You followed behind her, gathering the rest of your friends, before heading out to the club.

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To say you weren't nervous would be a lie. You were almost terrified. As said before, you weren't a party kind of person. You were really out of your comfort zone on this one. But, you had your friends, and you knew that with them nothing bad would happen. And, no matter what, you would have some sort of fun. Even if it was just watching your friends have fun.

The club was packed with people dancing to the music that was playing, lights flashing across the dance floor. Cocktail waitresses walked around, carrying plates of drinks. Fergus and F/N were already at the dance floor, and already three drinks in, partying like rock stars.

Claire was dancing with Charles, Bethany was flirting with a woman at the bar, and Sosha was sitting down, watching everyone else dance, with you. The place was nice, it was very modern, with a lot of chrome and black accents. The walls were painted a deep red color, which gave it an elegant look. There were tables scattered throughout the room, along with leather booths against the walls, and a large bar in the back.

Supposedly, the club was The Black Mask Club, which you've never heard of. So, you didn't know what to expect. But, as you took in the sights and sounds, you found yourself liking the place. It wasn't as loud as you thought it would be, which was surprising. Don't get me wrong, it was still loud, but not as loud as other bars and clubs you've regrettably been to in your life.

A few songs later, a young woman went on the stage, and when she began to sing, you listened. She sounded like a siren, her voice just drew you in. It was incredible. She wore a black fishnet dress, with a yellow bodysuit underneath it. Her hair was pulled to the side with braids and dreads. As the song continued, you could feel your foot tapping to the soft and slow beat.

Though, you noticed, somewhat near the stage was a man wearing a blue velvet suit. He was quite handsome from where you sat. His eyes were locked on the singer, and you watched him. Sosha nudged your side, gaining your attention.

"That's Roman Sionis, the owner of the club." She spoke, and you nodded. Intrigued.

Turning back, you continued to look at the man in interest. He was tall, with brown hair, green eyes, and a well-built body. Cute glasses. He looked like he could be a model, but you knew that he was more than that.

"Roman is rumored to be quite wealthy, he's a businessman of sorts," Sosha spoke, and you nodded.

"Why does he look familiar?" You asked, looking at Sosha.

She shrugged, before taking a sip of her drink. "I don't know, hun."

The rest of the night went on, and you were becoming quite bored. You were about to excuse yourself from your group and go out for some fresh air when Fergus and F/N came giggling over. They were both obviously drunk, both of them holding some alcoholic drink of some kind.

"Y/N, babes, just have one drink!" F/N laughed, grabbing your hand and leading you to the bar.

They ordered you a drink, which you tried to escape from, but they wouldn't let you off easy.

"I have to be sober, F/N. I'm the driver." You spoke, and F/N rolled their eyes.

"Sosha had a drink, and she is the other driver. And she is just fine. Just have one drink." F/N spoke, and you sighed.

"F/N, I really shouldn't." You tried again, but F/N shook their head, waving over a waiter.

"Just one drink, live a little, hun!" F/N spoke, and the waiter came back with your drink. You took it in hand, eyeing it curiously. It was a purple liquid, with a black umbrella sticking out of the top.

"Here, try this!" F/N spoke excitedly, eyeing you expectedly.

"What is it?" You asked, glaring warily at the drink in your hand.

"It's called Purple Rain. It has vodka, blue curacao, grenadine, and lemon-lime soda. It's fruity, you'll like it!" F/N grinned, and you took a sip.

It tasted sweet and the burn was minimal, and you couldn't help but smile. "This is good." You spoke, taking another sip.

"See? I told you!" They spoke, and you nodded, taking another sip.

"Now, come on, let's head back to our table," F/N spoke, grabbing another drink and linking their arm with yours.

As they led you to the table, you couldn't help but notice the gorgeous man once again. This time he was sitting at another table with a group of people, smiling and expressing his words with his hands.

"He's gorgeous." You whispered to F/N, who nodded in agreement.

"Yes, he is. But, I wouldn't give him any more thought." F/N spoke and you frowned, confused.

"Why?" You asked and F/N sobered up a bit.

Leaning in close, they whispered in your ear, "I heard that he's a bit sadistic."

You gulped down, shocked by the news. "Really?" You asked.

F/N shrugged, pulling away, finishing their walk to their table. "I don't know really, just rumors."

You nodded, before getting back in your seat.

"Hey, babes!" F/N shouted out over the music, making you jump slightly.

"Oh, yeah?" You asked, tilting your head.

"We're gonna go dance! Wanna join?" They asked and you immediately shook your head.

"I'm good, you go have fun. You know I'm not that much of a dancer." You spoke and F/N just laughed, grabbing Fergus's arm and pulling him back to the dance floor, joining Claire and Charles.

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You were bored out of your mind, and the only thing keeping you entertained was watching Roman Sionis and the Purple Rain drink you were nursing. He seemed to be enjoying himself, laughing at whatever he was saying to his club members. Looking back towards your table, you grabbed your bag from beside you, glad you remembered to sneak in your book.

Letting out a deep sigh, crossing your legs, trying to get comfortable, and opening your book on your marked page, drowning out the music of the club. You were almost done with your chapter when someone tapped your shoulder.

"F/N, I already told you, I don't want to dance-" You looked up, eyes widening.

It was not F/N who tapped you on the shoulder, no, you were terribly wrong.

There, Roman Sionis smirked down at you.

"Hello there." He spoke, and you felt yourself blush.

His voice was exactly what you thought it would sound like. Deep, with the slight hint of an accent.

"Uh... Hi..." You stuttered, closing your book.

"Would you like to dance?" He asked, bringing his hand out for you to grab, looking you up and down.

Looking from his face to his hand, and back, you bit your lip.

"I don't really know how." You spoke, shaking your head.

"I'll teach you." He spoke and you turned to Sosha, who just gestured for you to go.

Looking up at the man, you nodded hesitantly, taking his gloved hand into yours. Helping you up, he led you over to the dance floor, snapping his fingers towards a man with short, buzzed white hair and a beard, who left the room.

Soon the bopping music turned into a soft jazzy tune. Taking your hand in his, he held them out and up at just above shoulder height, never breaking eye contact as he did so. Taking your other hand, he rested it on his shoulder, before wrapping his around you, his hand landing on your waist. Slowly, he led you in a soft waltz.

You were surprised by how good he was at dancing. He moved smoothly, his hips swaying in perfect rhythm to the beat. You tried to keep up and were surprised at yourself for not stepping on his toes.

"So, do you always bring books with you when you go to clubs?" He asked, and you nodded, unable to look away from him.

"Yes, I'm not really one for going out and partying." You spoke softly, blushing.

Roman hummed deeply, his eyes wandering over your features. "Well, I'm sure we can change that tonight." He spoke, moving closer to you.

You felt your heart speed up as you took in his scent. It was musky, masculine, and intoxicating.

"What's your name?" He asked, bringing his lips near your ear, resting his cheek against yours.

"Y/N." You spoke, feeling the butterflies flutter within you.

He chuckled, "That's a beautiful name." He spoke, pulling back to look at you.

"Thank you." You spoke, and he smirked before continuing.

"My name is Roman Sionis." He spoke, his voice low and smooth.

Swallowing, you nod, "I know."

"You've heard of me?" He asked smugly, raising an eyebrow.

"My friends told me who you were." You answered, nodding in understanding.

"What did they say?" He asked his hand that was around your waist tightening ever so slightly.

"Just that this was your club." You said matter in factly, and he nodded, his hand on your waist, pulling you in closer.

Soon the slow song came to an end, and Roman gave you his charming grin. Bringing the hand that was already in his, he brought your hand to his lips, staring into your eyes with his green one. Laying a kiss on your knuckles, you couldn't help but notice how close the two of you were to each other. There was hardly any space. You felt so warm and breathless, that you couldn't take your eyes off him.

"Let me bring you back to your table." He spoke in hardly a whisper, you could feel your heart beating loudly in your chest.

Licking your lips, you noticed how he watched your actions, mimicking them, licking his bottom lip. Slowly pulling away, Roman led you back to your table, a hand on the small of your back. Bringing back his smug grin, he acknowledged the group before turning back to you.

"I hope to see you back here soon, my dear." He spoke only to you, pressing another kiss to the back of your hand, his striking green eyes staring into yours.

Turning back to your table, the man waved his hand in the air excessively, "Drinks are on the house! Have a good rest of your night." Roman exclaimed, before giving you a wink and going back into the madness of the club, the music going back to what it was originally.

Breathless, speechless even, you fell into your seat in the booth, shocked and bewildered out of your mind. And, your friends were definitely in the same situation.

"O.M.G." F/N blurt out, smiling widely.

"Wow," Claire remarked, herself speechless.

"HOLY SH-." Charles was cut off by Beth, "I don't know what happened, but I'm not complaining!"

"I think I just saw a god," Fergus muttered, sitting back in his seat.

Claire and F/N burst out laughing at Fergus, while Charles was still trying to figure out what just happened.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" Sosha asked, and you nodded, your cheeks heating up.

"Yeah, I'm fine. It was just, I don't know." You spoke, and F/N smiled, grabbing your hand, and rubbing it between theirs.

"You, my friend, just danced with Roman Sionis," Sosha spoke, utterly proud.

"You have to come back here with us." F/N declared, and you bit your lip.

"I... I don't know you guys..." You spoke, raking a hand through your hair.

You were honestly very overstimulated by all that had happened, taking a sip of the rest of your Purple Rain drink.

F/N's jaw dropped and you raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"Hun, are you serious? He was so into you! He even gave us drinks in the house!" F/N spoke excitedly, and you blinked, frowning.

"I mean, I doubt he was. I mean, maybe he's like that with all the new people in the club." You tried to reason, but Claire shook her head.

"Y/N, I work here, Mr. Sionis is not like that to anyone. By my knowledge, you're the first." She spoke and your mind went wild.

Did he really like you? You asked yourself.

"If you say so, Claire." You spoke, shaking your head.

"Come on, Y/N, you're gorgeous, don't be so hard on yourself, babe!" F/N spoke, wrapping her arm around your shoulders and pulling you in for a side-hug.

"Alright. I'll try." You spoke, smiling up at F/N, who nodded in agreement.

Soon your group of friends started talking about something you weren't that interested in. Biting your lip, you thought to yourself. You could still feel his hand around your waist, the soft and yet warm feeling of his gloves. His charming, yet alluring smile. The way he was looking at you as if he was staring deep into your soul. The smell of his cologne, a warm scent almost like sandalwood or vanilla. You could feel your face flush at the mere thought of him.

Looking up from the table, worrying your bottom lip, your eyes found Roman’s. He was already looking at you. He was sitting at another table, a little ways away. He smirked, giving you a subtle wink before turning back to the occupants of the table. Face warm, you turned back to your friends, a small smile gracing your face. Now, if your friends asked if you wanted to go out to the club again, you wouldn't say 'no.'

#roman sionis #roman sionis x you #roman sionis x reader #gn reader #cute #fluff #birds of prey #drinking #partying #clubbing #dinah #oc friends #gay #lgbtq+#zsasz #roman is so into you #dc universe #gotham #dc comics

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swordsandholly · 16 days

Text

Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”

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