This Will Be Interesting. Let It Begin!

This will be interesting. Let it begin!

Remedy for The Past

genya x chubby! reader

cw: he makes a slight against you in the past related to your weight, but that’s the only time it’s mentioned in a negative light. reader is gender neutral, he uses the compliment “pretty.”

synopsis: after finding out that you hadn’t been spared from his loud mouthed remarks in the past, Genya tries to find a way to apologize to you.

Genya didn’t think about love. Not when he was thirteen, and not at any age before that. So hellbent on not only becoming a demon slayer, but rising in the ranks while at it, it didn’t register in his consciousness when he found someone cute or not; because preceding that was the more important fact that they were competition. Competition, or a nuisance in his way, or some annoying background character that he didn’t have time to spare thinking about.

He had this mindset to thank for the plethora of people who had a bone to pick with him current day. There were too many little outbursts for him to recall every single one, and there was an amalgamation of people who were due an apology from him. When walking past people, sometimes one would shoot him a look that let him know they were probably remembering some insensitive comment he’d made towards them at the height of his youth. Well, he wasn’t looking to make friends, anyways, so he easily came to terms with expecting he’d made an enemy out of everyone around him sometime in the past.

Well, everyone but you.

Genya didn't remember when he’d met you. He knew that he’d known you for a while; a couple of years now at least, and when he had nothing to do and he let his mind wander, he’d wonder what it was like when you’d first met. If you’d held your hand out and introduced yourself, or if you’d came up to him and asked him what he was called. He wished he could remember, and he prayed to God that he’d been charming, or as charming as younger him was capable of, and that he hadn’t said something stupid, or angst-y, or just plain corny.

The first memory of you spawned into his recollection randomly; there are probably a million other interactions and encounters you and him had with each other before this one, but whenever he peers into the past, this instance is as far as he can go. He’d arrived at the wisteria house and through some divine intervention, it was you attending to him, and not any of the blue-palette butterfly girls.

His eyes had blinked open, the bare white wall of the infirmary hanging above him; and as he groaned in pain, he noticed you in the corner of his vision, staring down at him. When his eyes met yours, the crease between your eyebrows relaxed; like you were relieved to meet his gaze. You’d brushed off your apron, standing up to leave your seat now that you were no longer required here, and licked at your lips in preparation to say something. His line of sight drifted over to your lips, and then back to your eyes, mouth slightly agape as he ogled at you; and for the first time, the light he held everyone in shifted.

“Welp, you’re awake. Aoi’ll be here in a sec then.” Your words had fallen on deaf ears, as he sat in a stunned state in his bed. When you shot him a smile, his heart began to pick up rhythm in his chest; and he felt his face get uncomfortably hot, especially under your lingering stare. Like he wanted to run his hand through his hair, make sure it wasn’t out of place for as long as it was being looked at by you, make sure his expression wasn’t stupid.

He’d seen you before - but it felt like he’d seen you for the first time all over again as you looked over him, making sure he was all there before you left him to his own devices. You seemed surprised when he didn’t say anything, like you were expecting him to have some hotly charged reply; but he just stuttered out a delayed, “oh, okay,” uncharacteristically coyly.

After some contemplation, he came to terms with the fact that he had his first crush. It made him begin to notice things in a way he’d never before considered; the typical smoothing out wrinkles in clothes he’d objectively noticed others do became romantic when he saw you run your fingers over your shirt, and he began to look twice in the mirror when he knew he’d see you that day.

This was all around the time he began to gradually change - especially in the presence of women; so it was impossible for you to tell that he’d liked you. He’d become less abrasive with everyone, nothing exclusive to you; so you went about your days oblivious to the feelings he reserved for you alone.

When you’d fawned over the long-haired swordsman to Aoi whilst changing the sheets in the infirmary room, one of the beds holding a limp but aware Genya, he began what would become a long hair-growth journey. And when you’d picked a strand between your fingers as it began to fall across his shoulders with a hum, and apprehensively told him his hair looked nice, he stared at the wall with a grin one couldn’t punch off of him that night.

Current day, he laid in the infirmary, staring up above him at nothing in particular groggily. He’d been injured, sentenced to a couple of days of mandatory bedrest before he could hit the pavement again. He played the role of someone who was ticked off by the situation, but there was an excited bounce of his leg throughout the day as he wondered if he’d get to see you.

“…-eah. He’ll probably be out in a week, though. I don’t know about that guy down the hall, maybe a little more.” Your voice spread throughout the otherwise quiet room, and he was suddenly alert from the sluggish state he was in before. Did you and her now know he was awake?

He turned red, embarrassed as he imagined your conversation turning to crushes; visualizing you whispering in Aoi’s ear about who you liked, picking up on the lovey tone in your voice as you muttered, “Genya!” Calming his heart from the scenarios conjuring in his mind, he steadied his breathing and listened.

Aoi had hummed at what you’d said, a pause lingering in between, as if she were thinking about something for a moment before saying it. After a few seconds, she looked at you with a playful glint in her eyes.

“Genya’s been wanting to talk to you lately.”

You paused, sheet falling over your forearm as you halted the motions of folding it. “Huh? What makes you say that?”

“He asked where you were the other day, which is out of character for him in itself. And he got really red.”

You snorted at that, as if dismissing what she was implying. “He was probably trying to find my location and kill me,” you chuckled out, and he visibly winced. Is this how you thought of him? His lips fell into a saddened frown.

“So you don’t like him? You’re pretty nice to him.”

“Well, I’m not gonna be mean to him. And it’s not that I don’t like him. He doesn’t like me. Don’t you remember what he said to me?” You sighed out, as if pained by recalling whatever it was you were speaking about; and Genya broke out into a sweat.

What he said to you? Fuck, what did he say? A swarm of memories of his younger days flashed before his mind as he tried to sift through them and find the one in which he said something less than kind to you.

Aoi blanked for a moment in thought. “What he said…?”

You exhaled heavily and walked over to her, putting a hand to her ear and whispering; as if what he’d said was so bad, it wasn’t to be uttered in earshot of others. His heart sank to his stomach when Aoi gasped, and looked at you with a hand over her mouth.

“He said that?! That’s horrible!”

You laughed. “I know right?! Unprovoked, too!” It was good you found humor in the situation, and you didn’t seem too strung up on it anymore; but Genya felt like he was having the worst day in his demon slayer career. His mind began to run frantically. If only you could whisper it again, a little louder this time; or if he’d listened in more closely.

He couldn’t tell if he was happy to be laying here and overhear, or if he’d have been better off not knowing; because now he was tortured with the task of finding out whatever it was he’d said to you, and at any cost, making amends. It was discouraging knowing that, despite the effort it took for him to gather courage and talk to you over these past few years, you experienced every interaction with the idea that Genya didn’t like you; and that he thought of you in the context of whatever insult he’d told you all those years ago.

Once healed, he went through the Tanjiro trio frantically. He started with Tanjiro, hesitantly approaching him; though you wouldn’t be able to tell he was in a panicked and apprehensive state by the sight of him. Despite how he felt inside, when stressed his expression steeled itself over; and Zenitsu even wailed a little when he saw him approaching the three, frigid as a statue, wondering what he wanted with them.

At first he’d come and asked them each to recount every single thing he’d ever said to you; when met with a group of deadpan faces, he rethought his approach. With a sigh, he retired.

“Do you remember if I ever said anything mean to (Y/N)?” Once asked, his gaze fell to the floor in a sad manner, a soft look quick to replace the hardened glare he’d previously kept on. His eyes scanned the floor in thought as he tried to remember himself, brows turnt dismally, and Tanjiro hummed in thought.

“(Y/N)? You’re usually pretty nice to them,” Tanjiro lifted his finger factually, “in fact, don’t you like them? Why would you have been mean to them?”

After a short argument breaking out between them as Genya questioned why Tanjiro thought he liked you , and Tanjiro came to his own defense by revealing he could “smell it on him,” Genya found his effort fruitless. Tanjiro couldn’t remember a time; granted, Tanjiro wasn’t present for the beginning of your relationship the way he was present when he’d put his hands on Kanao, so he didn’t have much to offer.

He asked Zenitsu, who flailed around angrily at the prospect of him being mean to you; and even that numbskull Inosuke, who just slaughtered your name and fumed with a humph, “I don’t know! Leave me out of this!”

He’d considered asking Aoi, but wasn’t able to sum up the courage to approach her, let alone ask her a question of this nature. Normally he’d sit and roll over in circumstances such as these; but he liked you, and no matter how much it tore him apart inside, he couldn’t stop. So, with great resolve, he promised that he was going to fix this all; and solve it at the source. You.

When you handed Genya his tray of food that day, you were baffled when he’d gestured to the foot of his bed, and shuffled his legs further up to make room. You’d had your own tray, which you’d put down on the side so you could carry his to him, and he took note of that. His face was very quickly growing red, and he looked everywhere but you, extremely stiff.

“Sit.” Shit, that came out more bossy than he meant for it to. He wanted it to sound inviting, to be warm and pleasant like how you could be; but it came more-so as a demand. He didn’t mean to sound so forceful, really, his grip on sanity just began to loosen whenever he was in exposure of you for too long. His self consciousness when presented with you, and his unability to be vulnerable, chalked up to him sounding unintentionally controlling.

He was thankful when you raised a brow, but obliged, taking a cautious seat at the end of his bed. You paused in sitting down entirely when the bed began to dip underneath your weight, and he noticed your eyes dart over to him, scanning over for his reaction. When his face didn’t budge, maintaining the stoned over countenance with an uncontrollable blush across his skin, you let yourself plop down with the full extent of your weight.

He glared holes into his tray, grabbing his utensils with a shaky hand. “You can get your food, too.” Can? It sounded like he was just bossing you around-! He mentally beat himself up over his choice of vocabulary as you did as he said, suspicious.

“Uhm, okay.” You trailed off a little at the end, briefly getting up to grab your tray and then sitting back down. He nearly broke the utensil in his hand as he gripped it.

“How- how was your day?”

He felt a rush of relief wash over him, like he’d just finished a race and crossed the finish line, now only to be met with the pleasurable after-feeling of running as the hard part was over, when you smiled. Like you hadn’t expected him to inquire something so simply nice. A small smile spread across his own features.

“It’s been good, y’know, same old same old. Kinda tired today, I’m not sure why.” You glanced at him with bright eyes. “How about you? How are you today?”

He nodded, as stiff as iron. “Good. It’s been okay.”

You bobbed your head, sending him a quick smile as if to say, ‘glad it’s been going well so far.’ He watched, flustered, as you opened a package of something and picked up your fork, trying not to follow the serving and watch you lift it to your lips.

“Why only okay?” You asked, chewing on some fruit. He straightened his back, a little startled at the question; not that it was a weird thing to ask, his face would rival the vibrant red of a rose when you said so much as ‘hi’.

“Well, I’m kinda tired too, so,” he trailed off nervously, “and, uhhh.” He was thinking hard. Was this a good time to bring up what he’d said in the past; namely, ask you what it was?

“Sorry to hear that.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

“What do you-“

“Do you- oh, sorry, I cut you off.” He felt like he was going to spontaneously combust, you were just inches away from him; he could feel your heat radiating from where you sat! You waved a hand at him dismissively, prompting him to continue.

“No, no, it’s fine, go on.”

He sucked a deep breath in, and closed his eyes tightly to brace himself to ask what had been tormenting him for the last day. Your utensil clinked as you scooped up the final remnants of your fruit, which was evidently your favorite part of the food today, and he absentmindedly watched as you cleared it off your tray.

His heart was racing so quick, it made his clothes seem to pulse from the reverberations. He inhaled.

“Do you remember what I said to you, that one time…?”

Like an owl, you stared at him, eyes wide. Placing your utensil down, as if you were taking the gravity of this situation seriously, you seemed to be thinking. Not if you could recall or not; there was a wince in your face which attested to the idea that you knew exactly what he was talking about. Rather, you seemed to be thinking about whether or not you wanted to finally confront this.

His lips pressed into a nervous line at the look on your face. Of course you remembered; you were lamenting about it to Aoi the other day. He was worried it looked like he was just trying to remind you for the sake of being reminded of whatever cruel insult he’d thrown your way; holding his insult in front of your face like a dog with a bone.

Flinching at how poorly he’d phrased this, his chest grew as he inhaled, and his mouth twitched as he prepared to ask you what it was he said to bounce back. He hoped you took him in good faith.

Your eyes flickered off to the side, as if trying to figure out where this conversation was heading, and mentally prepare yourself. There was an apprehensive air around you, and he felt like he was testing very uncertain waters here.

“Well, yeah. When you say something like that people remember,” you huffed out without humor, unable to sustain eye contact with him at this point, staring hard at your lap. His hands clenched at the sides of his tray; seeing you look so beat down over it - whatever it was - made his heart wrench inside of his chest.

There was a heavy mood falling over the atmosphere; which he could normally face with his chin up. But feeling this heavy mood with you… he didn’t know if he could handle this. Trying to abate the nauseous feeling crawling up his throat, he decide he’d try to ease the tension.

“Uh, here.” Skittishly, he picked his fruit from his tray and slid it over to yours. You mentioned you were tired, earlier; and fruit was good for you, right? Not to mention he could see how much you enjoyed it, was it your favorite food?

In his kind-hearted attempt to settle both of your hearts before he continued the conversation, he tried to do a little, minute gesture to lift your spirits; and so you could see how much kinder he was now. Like a showcase of his personality now before you both delved into the hell-spawn he used to be to all.

His shoulders tensed when, rather than pick it up with a smile and raise your spirits, you scoffed in disbelief, and shook your head, dropping your plate to the stand besides his bed and shooting up. Like his fingers touching your tray had somehow scorned you in the process, or, well, offended you?

“Oh my gosh,” you said to yourself, head shaking as if you were trying to wrap it around some sort of concept, “I can’t believe I fell for that. I thought you were going to apologize or something. But you’re just trying to rub it in my face? You haven’t changed at all?!”

His eyes blew wide, and he abruptly stood from his bed.

“What? Wait, I don’t know what you’re-“

“No! I’m not doing this. I just can’t.” Despite the angry inflection in your tone, he could see tears begin to gloss over your eyes; and he could feel his senses leaving him at the realization.

“Words hurt, you know. I thought you were so nice. And then you give me your food as some stupid fat joke. Fucking whatever,” you mumbled under your breath, starting what would’ve been a ceremonious storm off, had he not interrupted you in the middle of it.

His day to day reasoning thrown out the window, Genya grabbed your arm from behind, fingers digging into the ample skin. His brows tilted upwards, a desperate expression flashing across his face.

“I don’t understand what you’re talking about! I just, I just,” his eyes went from item to item around the room in frantic thought, and he was spitting the words out at rapid speed; like if he didn’t think fast, convey to you his thoughts within a time limit, you would leave; and that would represent the loss of any potential relationship he and you may have had. He paused in a very quick thought.

“Can you explain-?”

“Explain?! Oh, Iike you don’t know. What you said all those years ago.”

“What I said? What did I say?”

“I can’t tell if you’re being serious or not.”

“What did I say? I called a lot of people things-!”

“You mean to tell me you were going around calling everyone a fat cow?!”

His hand went limp from where it was holding onto your wrist; swinging back to his side like some sort of loose tendril. He stood to full height, as if retracting back into himself, with his mouth agape and eyes wide; in a state of shock. You could hear a pen drop in the silence that’s left in the room, and Genya’s eyes flit around the room, visibly thinking.

“… I called you that?”

He seems shocked himself; like he’s more surprised than you were that he would ever utter such a sentence. He couldn’t fathom every having called you something. For as far as he could recall, he’d seen you surrounded by shoujo-esque flowers when you were doing even something as disgraceful as treading across mud. Genya couldn’t remember a time he didn’t look at you like you hung the moon and stars yourself. You were like an angel to him; his own personal angel.

You nodded, and he heard you sniffle; a few tears threatening to fall over your lash line before you breathed in an attempt to collect yourself. He grimaced at the sight.

“Uhh, yeah! I’d,” you paused, trying to recount the memory without crying at the same time. “I tried to offer you my seat, ‘cuz you just seemed tired. But then you went,” you put your fingers up in air quotes, “‘I’m not some fat cow like you. Try eating less.’”

Your eyes lit up with indignation as you recall something. “And you even took an apple off my plate once and told me you clearly needed it more than me!” You gasped as another memory flooded your consciousness, pointing your finger into the air factually, “Oh, or when-“

He threw his hands over his ears. “I don’t wanna hear anymore! Okay?!”

If this was his karma for being so indiscriminately rude to everyone in his past, then he just wanted to repent, and then get struck to the ground by some justice-spear-of-lightning before he had to live through this any longer. A part of him wished he could somehow appear back in time, and seal his mouth with a roll of tape. Or cover your ears anytime his undeserving adolescent self crossed paths with your presence.

You stared at him, head tilted quizzically. “What do you mean?”

He glanced up at you nervously, inhaling loudly. “I can’t listen to this. It’s-its hard to hear.” He lowered his eyes, lashes falling over his pupils, a face of remorse. You didn’t know how to react.

“Imagine having to hear it being said to you.” With your arms crossed over your chest, you tried to look like you were merely ticked off, and that this was merely one big annoyance to you, no big deal, you weren’t hurt; but when tears began to fill your eyes you quickly looked away, lip trembling. Now that you could see he seemed to be sorry, you didn’t want to make him feel bad; but it wasn’t like you could just smother these feelings now that theh began to rise again. You were already insecure about your appearance then, and he’d only managed to add insult to injury.

He was worried you’d bolt out of here, so much so that he darted over to the door and shut it behind you quickly; at the same time trying to give you the room for privacy in order for you both to get through this conversation without having some sort of mental crisis on display. There may have also been a confession plan planted in the farthest confines of his mind… the idea that you liked him back was now lost in the farthest crevice of his mind during this conversation. But he wanted you to know.

Solemnly, he dragged his stare down to the floor. His hands were fumbling with each other, nervously. Knowing you were staring at him, waiting for some sort of response out of him, made his body feel hot.

“(Y/N), I’m,” he paused, exhaling. “I’m really sorry I ever said that to you.” His hands balled into fists at his sides, and he couldn’t meet your eyes. “I don’t remember. I don’t think you’re, you know,” his voice lowered, like the word he was alluding to was some horrifying thing.

“I’m- uhm, you said you were tired, right?” His palms opens in order to try and gesticulate himself, in defense and clarification of his actions.

“So I thought if I gave you my food it’d make you happy… thats all.” His voice cracked near the end, and you winced. From his downright miserable gait and the lingering sadness in his eyes, he seemed more torn up by this than you.

Genya jumped as he seemed to have noticed an error in his words, shoulders squaring up, eyes scrambling around in every direction scaredly. “Not that you’d love food. Not more than anyone in particular. I mean,” he muttered out, face frozen as if he were petrified at how you’d take all of this.

As he began to ramble, you chuckled a little. With how earnest and apologetic he was, it would be difficult to not give him the benefit of the doubt. He stood at attention besides you, anticipating your response, and his entire body relaxed when you finally smiled a little, and gave him a response.

“Pfft, don’t worry about it, I guess. I get what you were trying to say.”

With a heaved out sigh, you shrugged lazily, lacking the energy to be more enthusiastic.

“It’s fine. You’ve been so nice these past couple of years. Honestly I was really surprised when I thought you were, y’know, trying to insult me and not just being nice, and all, considering how pleasant you’d been lately. I was just really shocked.”

You glanced at nothing in particular in thought, smiling apologetically. “And, uh, sorry for yelling at you just now. Now that I know, ‘nd stuff.” As you replied bashfully, you began to approach his bed; namely, the tray that he had let clatter on the floor when he’d gone to chase after you. You’d seen it as a way to escape the stuffy awkwardness of this situation, now that you could think about it in retrospect, and to escape from the careful gaze Genya kept on you as you talked.

“It’s all good.” His face lit up at your words, and it was like you’d just pardoned him from a death sentence; and if you’d had withdrawn from him after all of this, it may as well have been one. Long brunette strands swayed around as he nodded at you in acknowledgment of your apology, head snapping up in realization.

“Oh, uh, let me pick up the tray! You don’t have to.” You were halfway bent to the floor when he clambered over to where you were and dropped to the ground, collecting the spilled water and other items of food lying on the floor. There was the beginning of a smile stretching out across your features, and you let out an “oh, thank you,” but when he looked up at you, despite the affectionate glimmer which made his usually cold eyes seem welcoming, you let out a squeak of surprise.

Instinctively, your hands shot out to hold the area of skin beneath your face; hiding your neck up to your lips.

“Woah!” You let out, startled. “My bad, just, uh, I don’t like when people look at me from that angle.”

His head tilted to the side, puzzled; and when in thought, Genya would just stare at you, not realizing how seconds would pass as his mind talked to him. You averted your eyes to the side, as he seemed to study you curiously.

“Huh? Why?” He grunted out, collecting the things onto the tray.

You let your head loll to the side nonchalantly. “I’m kinda insecure about how chubby my face is. It’s not just you, I get weird when anyone looks up at me,” you laughed, and he furrowed his brows at you; not meaning to look angry at you, but he was too concerned, too deep in thought to monitor the face his features were making. That look was quickly replaced by a distressed twinkle in his eye, and he looked up at you slowly.

“You’re insecure?” He repeated, as if trying to process what you’d just revealed. Then a look of horror overtook his face. “Because of what I said…?”

You denied it with another flick of your wrist and a “nahh,”, as if batting the question away; but that did nothing to ease the growing nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach, at the idea of something he said affecting you enough to earn you a new insecurity. Or at the concept of you being insecure, in any context; not trusting him enough to believe he wouldn’t cast judgement for some arbitrary insecurity he’d never once seen in a negative light.

Carefully, as if standing up too quickly would make you scamper off like some sort of meek mouse, Genya rose back to his full height. His eyes went from the arms you kept wrapped around your chin, to your eyes, and then back; and you could practically watch as he thought to himself.

You wondered if he was asking himself why you kept your hands in place even after he wasn’t staring up at you from an exposing angle, and said, “Now that I’ve pointed it out I don’t want you to look, so.” Near the end you trailed off; curious of the determined edge in his features.

Slowly, he walke closer to you, until you could feel the fabric of his shirt brush against your chest. With cautious movements, his hands raised from his sides, and placed themselves on the arms you had elevated. It was the most relaxed, and the most certain you’d ever seen him around you. Like working with a frightened animal, he very lightly pressed against them; encouraging you to lower them.

You looked to the side and back in thought, the mood in the room shifting; the evening sunlight filtering in through the window beginning to have fairy tale reminiscent feeling to it. It painted one half of his face a pinkish orange, and he had a wide eyed look as you let your arms resume back to their place on the side.

You flinched a little when his arms came and gently cupped the sides of your face; his thumb running over the flesh of your cheek. His hands kept their hold even when you twisted your face to the side, feeling nervous under his watchful eye. If he couldn’t see the roundness of your cheeks, he certainly could feel it with the fingers held around your face, and your heart was racing for escape within your chest.

Warily, his hand went underneath your chin; feeling the skin around it contemplatively before tilting your head upwards an inch or so, so that you would make eye contact with him.

“Your face is fine,” he’d said, as if after assessing it for any issues, and feeling all of the flaws and insecurities you were hoping he’d never be aware of, he came to the conclusive reasoning that you were, in fact, fine. As if he realized what he was doing, he snapped back to his usual demeanor; going stiff suddenly, hands freezing against your face, a straight expression crossing over his face as he tried to stifle any kind of flustered reaction.

“It’s,” he paused, another blues beginning to dust itself across his nose, his nostrils flaring. “You’re pretty.”

Your lips moved uncertainly until they expanded into a small, diffident smile. “Oh, well thank you.”

“And, um,” he continued, trying to make sure you were both on the same page. “I like how you are. As in, the - the size you are now. Its also fine.” His lips pursed, brows furrowed; and if you weren’t hearing him you’d think he was irate. But the poetic he was waxing and pink hue coloring his cheeks indicated otherwise, and by now you’d figured he made scary faces when he was getting nervous.

His fingers twitched where they were, before, tentatively, he removed them from your face and let them descend to your waist. It was your turn to stiffen for once, as his hands planted themselves on your sides; and you wondered what it would feel like if he were to grab Kanao or Aoi’s waist. If he’d rather run his fingers over their tightly-wound ribcages, if he’d take note of how they were practically pinched in, if he’d felt grossed out because yours wasn’t any of the above.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, his hands sunk a little further into you. And again, like he had tested the waters and came to his answer after feeling them, he nodded to himself.

“Yeah, I like you like this. I’m really sorry. Again.”

You laughed quietly under your breath. This was the third time he’d said he liked you. Narrowing your eyes in thought, you swallows your nervousness and tried to resemble his sudden, daring nature.

“It’s okay, really. Now that I know you feel bad about it. And…” you paused, sucking a breath in, “Like me? You’ve said that, like, twice now, haha. As in…?” you trailed off, feeling a little shameful as you asked, in case you were interpreting this very, very wrong. His eyes narrowed, and you were worried you really did infer something outlandish; but his eyes grew, and the color on his cheeks descended into a more darker shade.

And slowly and cautiously, like you were meant to be handled with care lest you fall apart, a lock of hair swooped over his neck and rested on his collarbone as he leaned in and let his lips brush against yours.

A/N: This came out WAYY longer than intended 😭 and it is purely self indulgent mb 😞 im also trying to attract some of the chubby reader crowd LMAO bc I have fun writing it and would love to make more DS fics with it! After finishing the requests in my inbox I have another one I’d like to publish and everything

happy birthday to roronoa “gets turned on by danger” zoro

I hope you ALWAYS bite, sir.

Okay, I just whatched Pride, Prejudice and Zombies and I was expecting just a fun crack movie of questiinable quality, like Abraham Lilcom Vampire Killer or I, Frankstein (one of those is way better than the other). But no. It's genuinally a great movie. This movie has no right to slap but OMG it does.

You cannot look me in the eye and tell me that this man is not beautiful like wow 🥺🥺

Tenoch Huerta for Rolling Stone Magazine!📸