#he’s just showing off his fabulous hair

[burningparadiseduck]

The fact that Neuvillette has consistently been put in a villain pose for every Fontaine version is hilarious and a bit suspicious to me.

[matriarchjojo]

" HOT MODEL SEX. " | BONTEN VERSION

starring! : mikey, sanzu, ran, rindō, kakucho, koko, takeomi

warnings! : 18+, actual corruption, reader smokes, petnames (good girl), drunk sex, anal sex, oral, really long

a/n! : This is an alternative to the first model!reader fic, this time with bonten (there's also gonna be a part two of this one)

The guys did a lot of things

Drugs, murder, theft, gambling, more drugs and

Going to fashion shows.

It's mostly just to wind down and be social..plus the men are fashionable, it's just a thing that comes with being born in Tokyo. It became a ritual, whenever one of their favorite designers did a show and there was nothing important to do that other people couldn't do, they would check it out.

They'd sit in the front while photographers huddled the very front of the stage.

The haitanis and koko enjoyed these shows the most, especially the Versace, dior and dolce shows. Before every show started, they'd look through the small brochure they'd give out, showing the clothes and, of course, the models.

There was this one beautiful, gorgeous, sexy, elegant, fierce model that caught their eye everytime. They've seen her already many, many times, and that model was you.

Your legs, your walk, your hips, and your face. Your very presence made these cold men feel something again, admiration.

Sanzu was high as fuck at all the shows, having just done a few lines in the bathroom but no matter how dazed he was, he'd always took notice of you..being high made you somehow even more ethereal. You looked like an angel, like a holy vision.

"Oh..she's here again," Ran mentioned, reading the brochure, staring at the picture and tilting the thin pages to show his brother, rin immediately smiled before taking a drag of his cigarette.

The anticipation of you arriving on the runway was like foreplay, but when you appeared in skimpy clothes, showing off that sexy body of yours, walking with purpose and confidence made these men horny. Even mikey, he just liked that menacing aura around you, especially when you wore that heavy smokey cat eye that made your eyes look like daggers, ready to kill.

The men would notice the looks you'd give them, and only them. Sometimes, even sly and sexy smirks when you wouldn't be dead focused on the way in front of you. You recognized the men, of course you did. It's hard not to notice them. They were admittedly flashy and attractive men. You had no idea what horrible and dangerous men they actually were, though..

One fateful after party with your co worker's and fellow models, drinking champagne in a tight black mini dress, you spotted the men from the show at a table, smoking and drinking. Eyes set on you.

With your mind a little buzzed and feeling extra sexy, you thought you might excuse yourself and go outside for a smoke, but not before walking past their table and smiling at the two lilac haired men.

You were standing outside on your Louboutins, feeling the cold night air hit your hot skin. You heard the door open and sure enough..

It was the two men.

they were walking right up to you. as you put your cig between your glossy lips, they both held up lighters next to you. You eyed them up and felt a shiver up your spine. You smirked and leaned forward to let one of them light your cigarette.

"The show was fabulous tonight.." the taller one said before holding out his hand. "Ran." He introduced. "Rindou," the other followed.

A smirk crept up on your lips again before blowing smoke out of your lungs and you continued to tell the men your own name

"We know." Rindou said, with his hand and cigarette covering his mouth.

Not long after the little meeting, you went back inside and met the other men since the brothers invited you to the table.

As you all talked, you felt how the white hot stares of the men made you sweat and feel their lust radiating. You felt high, exchanging lustful looks with each of the men..

Koko was particularly interesting to you, the way he carried himself and his slightly feminine demeanor made you attracted to him.

Kakucho had that boyish and shy charm to him, takeomi was a hot older man and sanzu seemed like he'd be a crazy fuck.

You'd die to get tag teamed by the brothers.

Mikey had that mysterious and melancholic aura to him.

They were all sexy and you'd let yourself get whored out by them. You'd definitely meet these men again..

Luckily, the brothers gave you their numbers, saying, "Come by our Penthouse sometime, yeah?" Making you smile as you saw they already gave you the address. "We'll see.." you said teasingly before getting up and walking back to your friends.

One of your friends and Japanese model, sachiko, came up to you with a concerned look on her face. "Did you just talk with those men?" She asked, flipping her long black and shiny hair back.

"Yeah, why?" You asked with a raised eyebrow

She softly grabbed you by the shoulder, turning you around so the men were out of sight. "You don't know who they are?" She whispered, you shook your head and let out a quick laugh, "No, but I'm trying to" you responded, jokingly.

"You should stay away from them, I'm telling you..they're dangerous."

You just laughed again, thinking she was joking, or trying to get you away from some kind of players. but she didn't seem to smile or change her worried look. She was serious.

"I'll be careful." You smiled. Trying to calm her.

Sachiko let go of your shoulder. She didn't look like your words calmed her, but she knew you're an adult woman and could take care of yourself..

She couldn't do more than warn you and hope you listen to her words.

A week afterwards, all the shows were done and you found the little note from the hot guys.

You were just done showering and took your phone out, it was 20:30.

You don't have anything to do right now, and you don't wanna sleep yet, so..

Maybe you'll be a little bitch and just show up without a warning..but no, for the first actual meeting you should call beforehand.

You picked up your phone and typed the number in. For the first time in years, you felt nervous to call someone..you felt like you were 14 again and you're about to call your high-school crush. It felt nice to feel like that again, but your hands were slightly shaking when you heard the phone ringing, waiting for someone to pick it up. Your heart raced and your body tensed up

"..yeah?" rindou picked up, and he sounded out of breath and his voice echoed

"Rindou, right?" You confirmed, and he went quiet for a second before he sensually chuckled

"Y'know, in Japan, if you don't know someone that well, you use their last name.." he smugly corrected you

You grinned. "Right, I'm sorry, Mr.Haitani." he went quiet again before-

"Good girl,"

Your body tensed up, and your blood ran hot. "How come you're calling so late?"

"You mentioned that you and your brother owned a club, I just wanted to know which one it was"

Not long after that call you dried your hair, did your makeup and picked out a sexy I.am.gia black mini dress with some miumiu heels. you grabbed your dior saddle bag and put on your jewlery as you adored yourself in the mirror, striked poses and kissed the mirror before you grabbed your keys and happily went out.

you hailed a cab and told the taxi driver to drive you to roppongi at the haitani club, the man then side eyed you and asked what a woman like you wanted at a club like that, you just laughed and didnt answer.

truly you didnt wanna know why every person was so on the fence about these people, you just wanted to have fun and maybe get some dick.

once the man dropped you off, you thanked him and handed him the money, as you stepped out he said "hey, be careful." before he drove off again.

as you set your eyes on the club, the building was gigantic, booming with music and bright flurescent purple lights. there was a line of people in front of the entrance. You did not have the nerve to wait THAT long to get into a club you didn't even know was worth the hassle.

but thankfully, a man with a lilac mullet and a cig in his mouth stepped out of the vip entrance. It was rindou. your eyes met, and his immediately widened as he choked on his cigarette smoke. He waved you over to him, and you skipped to him on your pretty heels, clacking against the smooth concrete.

he hugged you as a greeting and you smiled

"You.." he chuckled, slightly embarrassed biting his bottom lip."You look amazing." he complimented, eying you up and down as if he was ready to just pull you into the club and eat you up

..or out.

he looked at the bouncer and grabbed your hand. "She's with us," he mentioned, to which he nodded. "Yes, sir"

rin motioned his head for you to head inside with a playful smirk while he kept holding your hand.

the music inside was even louder than you expected, the second you looked around you saw multiple hot people dancing, drinking and making out.

rin led you to a glass staircase with a tall man standing in front of it, but he stepped aside as soon as rindou walked up to him. you looked at rin. Obviously, he's one of the owners. Of course, he's gonna be let through. the two of you reached the top of the staircase and saw couches with glass tables in front of them

people were also drinking, and women were dancing, but some people were also doing cocaine. rindou just put his hand on your shoulder as you approached the table where his brother was sitting. he stood up when he saw you to hug you. "heyy, god, you look gorgeous.." he said with both his hands on your hips. "Come sit with us." You did as he asked and sat down on the white couch, crossing your legs.

rindou sat down next to you just like his brother, so now you were sandwiched between two hot men in business suits that wore beautiful smelling perfume. "whatdya wanna drink?" the younger brother asked, showing you the drink menu.

you ordered some rosé and the two just ordered the same. once the three of you were a little tipsy, you got handsy, and both of the brothers had their hands on either your lower back or thighs, close to being under your mini dress.

you also kissed them multiple times with tongue, rindou took the bottle and held it to your mouth, letting you drink, watching some of the alcohol spill from your mouth down between the valley of your tits. you giggled and kissed him afterwards. He softly groaned into the kiss as you suddenly felt rans lips against your neck, sucking harshly, trying to get your attention again. you looked back at him with a smile, he was pouting "dont forget about mee" he complained playfully before grabbing your hot and flushed face to press his wet lips against your own, immediately sliding his tongue into your mouth, seeking your own. rindou rolled his eyes. " You've been hoarding her all for yourself the whole time." ran, broke the kiss, and looked at you, "then let's just ask her who she wants to go home with"

you bit your bottom lip and swiped some of your hair from your face. "dont be mad if i ask this.." You began, and the brothers just stared at you in expectation as their ringed hands grabbed at your soft thighs, feeling burning cold against your hot skin. "Can i go with both of you?" their eyes widened, they didnt expect you to ask that, but they weren't mad, far from it, actually.

"i mean, we've never actually shared a girl before, but.." ran began and kissed behind your ear. "we'll be happy to have you being our first..right, rin?" he asked his brother, to which his hand turned your head to look at him. "i don't mind that.." he said softly against your glossy lips before kissing you.

the three of you stumbled out of the club and the flashing lights of cameras suddenly blinded you, you rolled your eyes as they yelled your name, you had no idea how the fuck the stalkerrazzi even found you. "You're so populaaar," ran drunkenly hummed, just continuing to drag you along. you just rolled your eyes again, shielding your eyes from the lights. There's nothing you hated more than these fuckers..

suddenly, in your drunken mind you had an idea that you were probably gonna regret in the morning.

so you just suddenly grabbed rin by his tie to aggressively make out with him as your other hand grabbed at rans crotch, you love to shock the paparazzi, you know they wont leave you alone, so you can at least make them uncomfortable while you tongue fuck this hot and apperantly controversial guy and grabbing the cock of an also controversial man

you broke the kiss and looked back at the cameras, holding your middle finger up with a big smile, putting on your dior shades, rin just stuck out his tongue as his brother did the same,

ran dragged you back to their black Bentley, you then pulled both of the men into the back of the car, the flashing lights following you to the car and you just sat yourself down into ran's lap as you kept kissing rindou, swinging one of your legs across his lap. the driver hesitantly asked. "..wh-where to, sir?" rin tore himself away from your enchanting lips "home."

you bareley remember the drive home, all you remember was having rins cock on your mouth and rans slim but long fingers in your wet cunt. And you remember when you two were in their bedroom you were completely naked except for your heels, getting pounded in the ass and having another hard cock in your throat, ran was in the front and rindou was in the back, you whimpered and whined as you felt their long and hot cocks filling you to the brim, you faintly heard their heavy breathing and little compliments that made you drool on rans cock even more.

"You're so good- so fucking good," ran huffed before letting out a gutteral moan, moving his hips into your face, looking down at you with his hand softly settled in your beautiful hair.

"Her fucking ass is so tight-" rindou groaned lowly before giving you a firm smack on the ass, while his other hand held your hips in a tight grip. "You've never done anal before, did you?" He asked, out of breath.

Ran pulled his dick out of your glossy mouth for you to answer, but your hand kept stroking him "no.." you paused to moan but it feels fucking good.." you mewled, biting your bottom lip, smearing your lip liner even more.

Rindou grinned down at you and huffed out a small chuckle "I can tell, baby" he said "can feel how wet your pussy is" he said before continuing to pound into you

Ran smiled down at you and took your hand "your pussy needs some attention too, huh?" He smacked his lips as if he was pitying you "my selfish brother completely ignored your pretty clit.." Ran helped you up and rindou immediately took your arms into his rough hands, his cold metal rings burning your scorching hot skin.

The older brother got in front of you to lift your leg and put it around his waist, aligning his cock with your pussy.

You thought you'd finally get to cum soon but then he slid the tip of his cock through your wet cunt and circle your clit with it "your gasps when it hits your clit are so cute" he teased.

You bit your lip even harder, not even caring if you're gonna bruise it or draw blood. You just wanted his cock, you never wanted anything more.

"Please ran--" "ah-ah" rindou interrupted you. "Remember what I told you about formality?" You let out a frustrated moan, throwing your head back feeling rindous fat cock breaking you in, almost feeling him in your guts. "Please, Mr.Haitani..fuck me stupid, sir"

That was all you remember when you woke up in-between the two gorgeous men, their arms over you under the soft blanket. As comfortable as you were, you had a splitting headache and aching legs. you planned on getting up but you saw your phone light up on the bedside table behind rindou, you reached over him carefully to not wake him.

Once you read the messages you almost jumped up and screamed in anger and embarrassment.

Last night events with the paparazzi went viral and everyone was texting you about it, your friends were just cheering for you but the news sites were shocked about the "alleged mob members hanging out with supermodel"

Alleged mob members??

You looked at the sleeping men next to you and froze up, it felt like time stopped. You sat there for ten minutes before continuing to read the articles your friends sent you, you looked so fucked up in those pictures, still hot but...fucked up.

Surprisingly, you didn't care that much about them being part of a criminal organization, you were just shocked that no one told you up front.

You carefully got up, put on your bra and panties before getting out of the room to get yourself a glass of water to sober up a bit, then raid their bathroom cabinet for some painkillers.

Your arms, thighs and ass hurt like hell. You got to the kitchen and immediately filled a glass with water, you chugged it down and filled it up again.

As you drank your second glass you heard footsteps, probably woke one of them up as you climbed over them.

You suddenly choked on your water when three of the other guys you met walked around the corner, seeing you almost naked, messy hair and messed up makeup. It was koko, takeomi and kakucho.

They stopped in their tracks, trying and failing not to look you up and down

"Fuck- sorry I didn't know- I thought this was the brothers' place" you tried to explain, wiping the spilled water from your chin

Kakucho looked down at the floor while shaking his head "don't apologize, we're sorry we didn't know you were still here.."

"Still here?" You asked, placing the glass down on the white marble counter

Takeomi chuckled. "You guys weren't exactly quiet.." kakucho awkwardly coughed. He was so cute..you'd suck him off right here, even with your sore throat. "uh..do you want some painkillers?" Kaku asked politely, still making eye contact with the floor.

You smiled "yes, thank you.." kakucho nodded and walked away, he expected you to wait there for him to come back but you followed him, you noticed his eyes quickly flicking yo you every now and then.

You leaned against the sink once you two reached the bathroom, your hips right next to his face, you looked down at him and he looked up at you after he tried to find some painkillers, he tried to look back down but you kept his head up by his chin, making him gulp heavily and keep his eyes fixed on you this time

He was immediately hard and he didn't know why, nothing happened..yet.

But It didn't take long, or many words

For him to have your cunt on his mouth and your gorgeous legs on his shoulders, he didn't seem like it, but the way he was moving his tongue now made up for the little words you exchanged, and before you knew it you were cumming in a shaking frenzy, moaning and biting your fingers to keep quiet. Your fingers in his pretty and smooth ebony hair, feeling his heavy breath on your mound while grinding back on his face.

Once you came back, you were wobbly on your legs, but held onto kakus strong arm for leverage. You leaned over to him "maybe next time we'll have more time to do more" you whispered before kissing his cheek.

You turned the corner and more men were there. The brothers, sanzu and mikey..

"There's the one that got away" Ran said taking a drag of his cigarette while rindou just looked you up and down while drinking some type of alcohol, in the morning.

His eyes told you that he was ready to go for another 4 rounds.

Sanzu stared at you intensely before speaking up "next time you guys hold a whole ass concert, I better be invited" rindou furrowed his eyebrows, looking like he was ready to vomit

"In your dreams, coke-head" Ran responded, reading the newspaper with crossed legs

You chuckled and sexily turned on your heels to walk back into the brothers' bedroom to get your clothes before heading back out, "let's party sometime again, huh?" You smiled, looking at the brothers, then sanzu..you don't know why but he seemed like fun to party with.

And lucky you, he stood up and walked after you, "let me drive you, it's pretty cold out and..you're not dressed for the weather" you chuckled and rolled your eyes "lead the way then.."

Surprisingly he didn't try to hit on you, the drive home..which disappointed you a bit. But when you saw your hotel you grabbed his shoulder and said "you can stop here" the pink haired man stopped his luxury car and got out before you to open your car door, what a gentleman.

"Ugh, you know what's crazy?" You asked him to which he grinned and tilted his head "what?"

"I'm already ready to party again.." you giggled to which he got a smug grin on his face "that's because those two snobs don't know shit about partying right."

You turned your head to him and smiled curiously "and you do?" He nodded and reached into his pocket, giving you a card with his number

"Call me when you're ready to party for real" you took the card with your index and middle finger, you grinned getting closer to him and give him a soft kiss on the cheek.

[cybrasigilism]

Touch (Player 124/Nam-gyu X F!Reader ONESHOT)

warning: smut | not proofread | lowercase intended | masturbation | JOI | hand fetish if you squint | reader has female genitalia | this is my interpretation of this character, please be respectful even if my opinions on the character differ from your own

character: nam-gyu (player 124)

A/N: had this one on my mind for a minute, i’m just looking for any excuse to write about him i fear. it’s funny to think about how reluctant i was to write for him and now he’s one of my favourites to write for, but anyways ENJOY KISS KISS MWAHHHH (AGAIN THIS IS WRITTEN IN POINT FORMAT BC I FEEL MORE CONFIDENT GETTING MY IDEAS OUT THIS WAY)

MDNI! 18+ content below the cut, readers discretion is advised

➤ it’s hard to believe how nervous you were the first time nam-gyu suggested this, for you to masturbate in front of him, but looking back you truly had no idea how much you would come to enjoy it.

➤ he would have you sit between his legs, back to his chest while you touched yourself. you could feel his breath hitch at every little sound that escaped your lips. shivers went up your spine whenever he rubbed his hands up and down your arms, telling you how hot you sounded right then

➤ his absolute favourite thing to do was to talk you through it, telling you exactly how he would please you if it was him fingering your cunt instead. he would even come as close as grabbing your wrist and guiding your hand himself, but most of the time he will simply sit back and instruct you on how to jack yourself off

➤ he really likes to egg you on through the process too, he’ll taunt and tease while you try so hard to make yourself cum

“bet you wish that was my hand between your legs, huh? you wish those were my fingers fucking your pathetic pussy, don’t you?”

“come on you can do better than that! you must not want to cum that badly if that’s all you’ve got”

“do i need to remind you how you like it, is that it?”

➤ he’ll give you a hint of praise, only to go right back to calling you his “dumb little slut”. he pulls you right in by saying how good your doing for him, how pretty you sound— but in the end he’ll go back to his way, not that your complaining.

“fuck this is all your good for isn’t it. being a dirty little whore for me, isn’t that right?”

“don’t hold back now, you and i both know you like being treated this way; how wet you get when i boss you around like this.”

➤ he’ll definitely touch you in other ways, mainly trying to distract you from bringing yourself to release. he’ll grope your tits, pull your hair back and kiss your neck, squeeze your thighs; anything to get you all the more hot and bothered

➤ to expand on the praise point, some things he’ll say include:

“such a good girl, doing exactly as i say”

“shit— you sound so pretty when you do that”

“yeah, do it like i showed you fuck”

ıllıllııllıllıllıllııllıllıllıllııllıllıllıllııllıllı

happy nam-gyu day!! (1/24) i just want to thank you guys again for all the support on my page, i’m truly blessed and forever grateful :)

as usual, any advice/constructive criticism on how i can improve my writing is appreciated and requested! have a fabulous night/day lovelies 🤭

tags: @gongyoosgf @strangelife122 @kouzih @gabbystinks

[porcelaininkpot]

Miscellaneous DAMN Crew Headcannons >:}

Freelancer blocks people on Pinterest

Damien had one terrible experience with the nurses at DAMN and he's still not over it, and so does everything in his power to avoid going to the healers even when he really should

He's also gotten quite skilled at healing magic as a result

Lasko's glasses are in a constant state of being broken, the lens always popping out of the frame, so he's developed a habit where he taps his lens at random times just to make sure its still there

Huxley is capable of manipulating metal, but doesn't wanna bother with honing his skill because he prefers the greenery and flora aspect of earth magic

Gavin runs a DAMN gossip blog, a fair bit of the gossip is what Lasko accidentally spills while rambling

Caelum found out about cotton candy and made it his life mission to make his hair look as much like it as possible

Dear does aeral acrobatics in their spare time, Lasko is ensorceled and mystified every time he watches them practice

If Damien gets angry enough, he can go band for band with Lasko in terms of speaking speed

Damien always wanted piercings, but was worried they'd harm his professional career, it was Huxley that helped him let go of his hesitation and finally get his ears pierced. They held hands the whole time.

Huxley himself has a septum piercing.

Dear is the most eloquent speaker of the entire crew, and possibly the entire DAMN campus, they're one of the highest rated professors at the academy.

When Freelancer is bored, they intentionally create steam and fog up their windows so they can use their fingers to draw on them

Caelum once saw them do this and now insists they do it at least thrice a day so he can doodle

Gavin cannot sit still long enough to get his nails done, so he uses demon powers to shift his form and give himself naturally fabulous nails, whenever he does his he makes sure to go show off to Freelancer because their jealous angry pout is adorable

Huxley once had to return a size XXL compression shirt because it was too tight. Damien begged him not to.

Caelum once has unsupervised access to Freelancer's gaming pc and played Poppy Playtime thinking it was a cutesy roblox type game.

He didn't sleep for three nights afterward.

Then tried playing again because he wanted to finish chapter one.

Lasko has Poliosis, it's especially abundant on his very long eyelashes.

Dear takes special joy in having him try out multicoloured mascara

While Damien is best at memorising text to score high marks, Freelancer is best at understanding it, and often gives tutoring lessons to the rest of the crew.

Dear used to secretly wish they were an earth elemental so that they could manipulate crystals, but now makes the most beautiful ice sculptures with their water magic.

It took Lasko a very long time to accept that he was truly wanted by the crew, and that he wasn't just some straggler they allowed to follow them around.

Gavin and Freelancer once challenged each other to see who would get flirted with the most at DAMN events, Freelancer got 8, Gavin got 13, and Dear won with 21 {not including Lasko drooling all over them}

The characters of Caelum 's favorite cartoon all have a decora aesthetic, so Caelum has started to make a collection of cute accessories and clips so he can dress like them.

Freelancer is his biggest enabler and loves surprising him with sticker packs and rainbow hair clips

When Damien and Huxley have sleepovers, and are all cosied up next to each other in their warm blankets while drinking hot cocoa, Huxley gets so wrapped up in doting over Damien that he only realises how much time has passed when his hot cocoa gets cold, and then he makes them both go to bed because 'Having a healthy sleep schedule is important dude'

Damien absolutely hates when he does this so he secretly and subtly rewarms Huxley's cocoa so he can spend more time whispering to him in his arms.

[makeyoumine69]

Spit In My Face

— PAIRING: Sugar Daddy!Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: Fashion Week is in full swing in New York City and Patrick Bateman doesn't miss the chance to show you the world of luxury and beauty. So, he invites you to attend the fashion show with him. Through the chain of events that unfold there, you will see a new side of Mr. Bateman that you never knew existed.

— CONTAINS: Angsty romance, smut, toxic behavior, gaslighting, cheating, misogyny, hurt/comfort, seduction, swearing, flirting, sensual kisses & touches, jealousy, implications of self harm & panic attacks, (almost) character death, oral sex (reader receiving), fingering, rough sex, finger sucking, spanking, biting, manhandling, choking, orgasm control, dry humping, nipple play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, body worship, Daddy kink, Praise kink, pet names, dirty talk, Service!Dom!Patrick Bateman being an asshole (again).

— WORDS: 21k (oops)

— SONG REC: ThxSoMch - Spit In My Face

— A/N: Hey guys! It took me a year to finally finish this and I decided to post all the parts together since most of you probably forgot what happened in the previous ones (I'll delete the old posts). I did some extra editing before posting and I hope you like it and I'm happy to get back to writing and soon I'll be rebooting the Cupcake series as I've already started working on prequels. Love you all!

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST];[SERIES MASTERLIST].

Fashion, grace, money, wealth, these were the words running through your head as you rode in the taxi, and you couldn't believe Patrick had just convinced you to go to the goddamn Dior boutique. Not to mention the upcoming fashion show you were going to together, which was an actual nightmare for you and your nervous system.

“I really can’t understand. Why me?” You asked Bateman, turning in his direction to see him looking through the window, with his headphones on. And of course, he didn’t hear you. 

All you could do was give him a shy tap on the shoulder. You heard the loud beats of rock music as he opened one of his ears and turned to face you. "What?"

His slightly annoyed intonation almost discouraged you from repeating your question. "I'm just wondering why you decided to invite me to this fashion show when you have much better options." 

You watched him frown, and before you continued, you already knew what Patrick was going to say: "Cupcake, I've told you several times. I want to show you the beauty of being rich. I bet you've never seen so many fabulous people in one place."

Sighing a little sadly, you fixed your coat to distract yourself from the burning anger in your chest. "I've had enough of the rich snobs in our company and…I’m not a fan of all these 'luxurious’ things, you know…”

With a small chuckle, Bateman removed his headphones completely, quickly checking his haircut in the window's reflection. 

"Of course you're not. How can you be a fan of things you can't afford?" He stated before trying to hug your shoulders, but when he saw your intense expression, he just gently put his palm on your knee.

"Money is not happiness," you cast a serious look at him, brushing his hand away from your leg. "Can you call yourself a happy man?"

Perplexed, Patrick knitted his eyebrows, as if your question had caught him off guard —you have never seen him so lost before and that was really strange. Fidgeting in his place, Bateman was certainly about to replay something when you heard the raspy taxi driver’s voice:

“We’ve arrived.”

"Thank you!" You responded before quickly getting out of the cab without waiting for Patrick to pay for your ride.

Obviously, you were upset and pissed off because of his endless snobbish dialogues about rich people, money and how much his regular suit cos—tnone of this really interested you, would he ever understand that?

As soon as you were outside, you felt a stiff wind blowing through your hair, ruffling it and making your mischievous locks cover your face. Quickly, you brushed them away and raised your eyes to the beautiful sign that read "Dior" in large letters; so stylish, so plush—just the way he liked it.

"Are you going to stand here forever?" Bateman scolded behind your back, his loud footsteps forcing you to spin around. 

"I'm so amazed, I can't even move," you sarcastically sneered, staring at the window of the boutique. "The aura of richness has just overwhelmed me."

"How witty," Bateman almost applauded you, his lips curling into a cheeky grin as he came closer, his muscular arms wrapped around your waist. "Come on, let's go inside." With a light push on your back, he induced you to move forward, his arms never left your little form. 

When you finally reached the entrance of the store, Patrick gallantly opened the door in front of you and looked at you from above, his eyes glowing with an unfamiliar tenderness.

"Much obliged..." You stammered as he somehow managed to grab your ass, stroking it and squeezing your buttock a little through your coat. Embarrassed, you turned to face him, but Bateman just smiled in his usual smug way. 

"My pleasure." He murmured in your ear before letting you go.

Once inside the boutique, you heard someone greeting Patrick with undisguised excitement:

"Mr. Bateman! It's so nice to see you again!  Welcome to Dior, we are so happy to help you."

'Again, huh?' You chuckled to yourself, turning your gaze to a side and wondering about the number of his visits and how many girls had been here before; Bateman’s face changed almost immediately as if he noticed your reaction.

“Thank you for the warm welcome, Mr. Graham,” you could definitely hear some tense notes in his tone. “You look great as always!”

The guy let out a little giggle; he seemed to enjoy the compliments as much as your yuppie boy. “Not as perfect as you!” he pointed his both index fingers at Patrick, and now was his turn to grin from being praised. “How can I help you?”

“Uh, I need a dress for…” he paused before staring at you, his eyes gliding over your completely relaxed expression. “For my good friend, but she doesn’t really know what she likes,” ‘good friend, with whom he slept almost every day. Nice shot, Bateman.' “Don’t cha, baby?” While saying that, Patrick groped your cheek, pinching it a bit.

Mr. Graham, who was supposed to be a local stylist, gave two of you a suspicious glare, and only then did Patrick understand what he was doing, pulling his hand away as if it had been burned. 

"Well, if the young lady doesn't mind, we can try something to your taste, Mr. Bateman," the stylist confirmed, examining you like a statue. "What do you think?"

"Great idea," Patrick exclaimed, pulling you into his arms to take off your coat. You almost fell into his embrace, whimpering as he 'accidentally' touched your boobs, squeezing them gently. 'Fuck, why should he be so obnoxious?' "I can't wait to see my Cupcake in one of these beautiful dresses." He whispered before leaving a tiny peck on your neck.

"That's very sweet of you, but..." you murmured, looking into his hazel eyes. "I don't think I'll fit into those dresses."

"Don't worry, honey." Bateman winked at you and gave you a quick slap on your butt to nudge you toward Mr. Graham, whose smile widened the longer he watched the two of you together.

“Please, follow me.”

Trying to distract yourself from all the bad thoughts, you just did what you were told and moved along countless hangers with new dresses. The further you got away from Patrick, the more insecure you became, and that strange feeling made your whole body shiver like from a cold shower.

“So, which color do you want to try on first? Maybe something dark?” the man asked you, sliding his hand across the beautiful fabric of some dress nearby. “Dark blue or dark red…Or even black?”

"I really like the black color, it goes with almost everything."

Mr. Graham chuckled amusedly and handed you a black cocktail dress, which of course was very short. Apparently Patrick didn't like long dresses or skirts, you already knew that, but that didn't mean you were happy about it.

“Mm-mh, and I think this one can fit too,” he gave you another dark blue dress before adding. “I still recommend you to have a look at our new collection, maybe you’ll find something interesting.”

“Maybe you’re right,” you sighed and smiled sincerely for the first time of the day. "Those amazing dresses I saw when we just entered are from a new collection?"

“Yes, Miss.”

"I'll check them out. And… thank you, Mr. Graham." Excited, you smiled again, and then you strolled away, a pile of dresses in your hands.

Once you reached the place you had been before, you heard multiple voices—one of them definitely belonged to Patrick while another one seemed to be unknown to you.

"What are you doing here?" You peeked out from behind the hangers to see a beautiful blonde girl, her face literally glowing with enthusiasm. "I'm so glad to see you, it's been a while." You didn't even have to look to know what she did next as the loud pecking sound echoed in your ears as if you had been hit with something hard.

The blonde left a small kiss on Patrick's cheek before he replied. "Good to see you too, Meredith."

“Are you here alone?”

“Mm-mhhm,” Bateman looked around and when he didn’t spot you, he added almost emotionlessly. “Yeah, you can say that.”

An instant pain burned in your chest, causing your hands to cling to the dress you were holding. Breathing heavily, you were about to send everything to hell and just leave, but for some reason, you decided to listen to their conversation, maybe you would learn something else about yourself being nothing but an empty place.

"So, are you going to the fashion show this weekend?" She asked cautiously, as if testing his line.

"Sure," they looked into each other's eyes for a while. "You know, I never miss things like that."

The way she giggled, forced you to close your ears from cringe, but that unpleasant sound kept bouncing in your head.

"Do you have a date or not?"

"Why do you ask?" Bateman retorted in a stern but concerned tone.

"I just... I thought maybe we could go together?" Flirtatiously, she pulled him closer, pretending to fix his coat.

"I'm sorry, but the answer is no." Frowning, he quickly took her hand away.

Ashamed, she stepped back and stalled. "You could just say you already have someone to go with and…"

Patrick scowled in irritation, cutting her off. "I'd still say 'no' even if I didn't…"

"Miss, did you find something you like?" Mr. Graham's sudden voice made you jerk and drop the super expensive dress with a thud.

It felt like all eyes were on you at that moment, and you didn't really know what to do other than quickly pick up the dress and act naturally. “God, I’m so sorry…I can be so clumsy sometimes!” You apologized, trying to ignore Bateman’s intense gaze. 

"Don't worry, Miss… it's not a problem!" The stylist assured you, matching his words with reassuring gestures.

"I'll pay for everything,” Patrick pronounced it so calmly and with absolute confidence, as he moved in your direction. “Have you finished?” 

First, you cast a confused glance at him, and then you looked at Meredith, her mad stare of disbelief almost making you laugh. “I think so,” you murmured, watching him getting closer. “I even got some of the new collection.”

“Ahh, is it so?” he teased, standing face to face with you. “Come on, let Daddy see what you’ve got.”

With that said, Patrick leaned over to your lips, and you let him pull you into a deep kiss, which was pretty surprising—your own behavior almost scared you, as you didn’t even care about people watching you making out. Deftly, he grabbed your waist to lift you up, but your audible protest compelled him to stop.

“Pat-Patrick…” you whispered against his mouth. “P-please, don’t forget where we are…”

“I know, I know,” he snickered softly, hiding his face in the curve of your neck. “I just missed my Cupcake so much.”

With a dull grin on your face, you pulled away from him to look into his dark brown eyes. "Really?" After you asked that, you glanced at the blonde girl behind his back, who was now talking to a middle-aged woman, probably the assistant.

“Time literally stopped for me when you left.” 

'What a beautiful flattery.'

After a while, you changed into the next dress because all the previous options didn't get Bateman's attention, even though you really liked them. You were struggling with a clasp when you heard him whine in anticipation.

“Baby, did you fall asleep in there?”

“Almost ready!” You blurted out before fixing the dress straps on your shoulders.

And then you walked out of the dressing room to the circular runway, and yes, this boutique had a special VIP area with a fucking runway.

"Finally, my favorite style," Patrick flattered, sitting in the leather chair and holding a glass of mineral water with a little lime. "Mm-mm, this dress outlines your tits so perfectly, not gonna lie, I like it."

A bit humiliated, you were constantly fixing the hem of the dress as it was too short for you, especially when Bateman was looking at you so vigilantly, making you feel yourself like a picture in some art gallery.

"Baby, turn around and…" he paused, crossing his long legs and pressing a finger to his lips. "Stop crawling! Square your shoulders and straighten your back!"

You turned around, unable to hide your sadness. "I… I don't feel comfortable in this. It's too short," you glanced at his annoyed face, wondering if you should continue. "I'm almost naked!"

"But that's the point!" Patrick tilted his hand to the side and was silent for quite a while, clearly thinking about something. "You know what, Cupcake?"

“What?”

"I'll be honest, this dress is amazing, but… unfortunately not on you," he scoffed before taking a sip of water. "It's not a problem, honey. Just take it as motivation to be better."

Biting your lip, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't try to hide your pain and resentment, but your voice sounded dejected anyway. “Of course… keep pretending that you didn’t expect this…”

Humming to himself, Bateman squinted his eyes and leaned on his knees. “Expected what?”

“That these slutty dresses wouldn't fit me,” you glared at him, your body was yearning to get rid of this dress as quickly as possible. “Goddamn, I have enough of this…I hope you enjoyed this little performance!”

After saying that, you turned around and went back into the dressing room. Trembling with rage, you didn't even care what would come next as the searing flame of injustice overtook your mind. No way would you allow anyone to treat you like that.

"Shit!" You cursed as you attempted to undo the fucking clasp on your back, but it didn't seem to work. 

"If you keep pulling like that, you'll tear it apart for sure," his unexpectedly gruff baritone shot through your back like an arrow. "Let me help you."

"No!" You almost screamed, turning sharply to face him. Your chest rose and fell so abruptly that you thought you would choke on the air.

Sneering, Bateman gently extended a hand as if you were a wild beast he planned to tame. “Cupcake,” he was getting closer, forcing you to walk backwards. “Tell me…what’s wrong?”

"What's wrong?" You kept stepping back until you suddenly bumped into the wall behind you. "Maybe you should ask yourself first?"

"I think you should stop pouting or you will get wrinkles," he tried to be nice to you, but it only made you more upset. "I don't think either one of us wants that to happen, am I right, honey?"

“Stop it, Patrick…”

“Mm-mhh, it’s just Patrick now?” You didn’t even notice that his massive figure was already towering over you, pressing you a little against the wall. “No ‘Daddy’ anymore?”

Possessively, Patrick strived to cup your face, but you flinched away from his touch, coaxing a warning growl to break from his perfectly shaped lips.

 “Can you just leave and let me change?”

“Jesus, (y/n)...you’re acting like a stubborn child!”

Panting, you leaned your hands against his firm chest to push him away a bit. "Do you really think I'm in the mood…after all the rude things you said?"

He chuckled, looking at you from above and giving you a feeling of being so small compared to him, you almost stopped breathing. “Rude things?” laughing again, Bateman trapped you between his arms as he put them from both sides of your head. “I always say what I think, there’s nothing special about it…”

"More likely, you always think only of yourself," your voice wavered, and you found it hard to breathe, as if he was sucking all the oxygen out of the air. "Let's just skip this, if you still want me to go with you..."

“No, I don’t need you to do me a favor.” Patrick shushed you with a finger, pressing it against your lips, leaving you trembling like a leaf. 

“And I don’t need your help!” You tried to break away, but he kept you in one place. 

“Oh, is that so, honey?” he crooned in a sweet tone, rubbing his nose against yours; his seductive aura was almost intoxicating, it was corrupting your mind stronger than anything else in this world. “Honestly, I just wanted to help you undo the clasp but now… now, I want more than that…”

With no delay, Bateman covered your mouth his heated one, wrapping his brawny hands around your quivering frame and spreading your legs with his knee. Suffocated, you didn’t react, feeling his hard bulge brushing against your mound—a muffled moan of sudden pleasure pierced through your bonded lips, sending chills down you spin; your cute reaction didn’t surprise him, but Patrick couldn’t hide his satisfied grin as his hands were already pulling down the straps of your dress. 

And only now, you desperately clawed at his shoulders, weakly pushing him back, not understanding that your attempts to fight him were only putting gasoline on a fire, encouraging him to sprawl you against the wall, pinning your hands against your head.

"P-Patrick!" The way you almost screamed his name made you both tremble with ravenous lust as you looked into each other's eyes, not really knowing if you wanted him to let you go or hold you forever.

Growling quietly, Bateman continued to move along your longing body, forcing you to hook your hip around his loin, so you could grind against his hard groin. “Feeling good, darling?”

'No, not good...no!'

“Yes-s! Mmm-mh…Daddy… ahh!” Oh God, that was the end. 

"Baby," he murmured in your ear, thrusting his firm thighs into yours and shamelessly groping your bottom. "Daddy doesn't like to see his sweet Cupcake upset."

"Maybe...n-next time Daddy will think more before he talks." You stammered from the beat of your heart. 

“Do ya want me to bite this little sharp tongue?” panting, Patrick punctuated his words with rough smacks on your butt, which could be surely heard outside the dressing room. “I’ll teach you how to behave.”

Smoothly, Bateman pulled down the top of your dress, letting your breasts to bounce out from it, and the next second his greedy mouth was already sucking on your taut nipple. 

"Mmm…Gosh." You arched your back as the last vestiges of your self-control seemed to disappear along with your ability to resist this man.

Switching between your engorged peaks, Patrick didn’t stop rubbing against your mound not even for a moment, your throbbing pussy was about to explode at any second. Thirsty, he tugged on your tip with a squelch, enjoying each little whine you made, but he still needed more.

“Turn around,” he urged briefly, licking his lips in hunger as he watched you bent over in front of him. “Oh-fuck, I can smell your sweet arousal… mmm,” snuggling into you, Bateman left a wet hickey on the back of your neck before he started to move down, peppering your exposed skin with hot sloppy kisses. “C’mon, Cupcake, spread your legs for me.”

As if hypnotized, you obeyed and before you even noticed, his long fingers were teasing your sensitive clit trough your so-fucking-wet panties. Clinging to the wall, you were about to moan when you sensed his big palm on your chin, his hot breathing was mercilessly burning the delicate skin of your throat while his rock-hard bulge was still pressed against your ass.

“Aa-aww, Daddy….mhm.” You muffled against your own hand before turning around to give him your most innocent look–he read it almost right away.

“So, you need my help?” bastard! – you almost said it out loud, but Bateman was faster as he slid his thumb into your mouth, and you started to suck it like medicine you couldn’t live without. “Ahh-look at ya… Such a little slutty girl, can’t function without Daddy’s finger inside her dirty mouth…”

Twitching under his massive weight, you could only think of his skilful digits playing with your pussy better than you ever wished for, damn you were already so close but it seemed like Partick's endless craving spurred him on to tear you apart completely.

With no words, Bateman knelt behind your back to pull up the hem of your dress, and soon you had to compress your lips so tightly, as loud nasty sounds were about to erupt from your fiery chest when he finally moved your underwear to the side and his plump lips covered your feverish cunt. 

“Oh-mmmy God,” tensed like a string, you didn’t know if you wanted to cry or to laugh, or all these things together from how his masterful tongue was pushing you over the edge. “Mmm-Patrick-” you suppressed another moan when he bit one of your buttocks before spreading them wide open to push two fingers inside your blushing pussy. “A-aah-Daddy, I’m so close… p-please!”

Patrick only purred something incoherently in response, as he continued to lick your engorged folds and pumping your tight hole with his experienced digits. His persistent ministrations made you totally lose your mind, and now you didn’t understand were you begging him to stop or to NEVER stop. 

When your legs shook in his grip, you heard his raspy snarl: “Not yet, Cupcake…Not yet!”

'And he just stopped, holy hell.'

Your miserable sobbing bounced against the walls of the dressing room as the coil in your lower belly was yearning for its release, it was literally itching so hard you were ready to scratch the wall with your nails if it could help you a bit.

“(Y/N), you can’t even imagine how much I want to leave you just like that,” Bateman hissed, and then you heard the unzipping sound which caused your knees to buckle. "But I want to get all your stupid thoughts about acting like a brat… out of your head!"

Abruptly, Patrick put your legs together and the next second you felt his leaking tip between your legs, brushing against your soaked folds and making your squirm from ecstasy. 

'This man have no barriers, he can reduce me to pieces so easily, like no one else, and I am sure he likes it.'

A small drops of sweat were running down his forehead as he watched his beefy cock slipping back and forth with a sleek sound; your overstimulated pussy was literally on fire.

“P-please…” You whimpered, bending ever lower to give him a better access to your spasming cunt. 

“If you want to cum, you have to move, slut.” Groaning, Bateman stood still with his hands wrapped tightly around your hips. Mesmerised, he watched you grinding on his huge dick as you desperately chased your release. At that moment, your languid, heavy breathing was all that mattered to him.

Shivering erratically, you almost crested your high when Patrick harshly grasped your throat and pressed you against the wall, possessively he began to smack his cock against your clit, each slap he made was taking your breath away.

“Tell me, Cupcake…” he grunted against your neck, brushing his swollen tip along your throbbing nub barely sensible. “Who do you belong to?”

“You…Only y-you...”

Bateman squeezed your neck with blatant dominance and demanded in a low voice, "Uh, not quite convincing…try again."

“Aa-aww! I… I belong to you…Daddy!” You cried out through your pressed palm when he sped up the tempo, slapping your pussy with nasty wet sounds.

With a devilish smirk on his face, Patrick had to hold you still as you cummed so hard, gushing on his dick and fidgeting around the wall. Multiple waves of pleasure were washing over you like a waterfall, leaving you completely exhausted, you didn’t even have any power to moan. 

And soon, you became limp in his powerful arms, allowing him peacefully patting your head as he praised you. “You can be a good girl when you really want to,” Bateman kissed your temple, fixing his pants. “But still, you could just let me help you with this fucking dress.”

“You can help me now…” You replied, hungrily catching the air.

Smugly, Patrick eventually undid the clasp on your dress, not missing the moment to leave a red mark on your shoulder blade as he sucked on your soft skin. “Speaking about dresses. Since my favourite one didn’t fit, you can choose whatever you want…I don’t really care.”

You sighed, smiling ironically to yourself. “Great!”

Bateman didn’t stop smirking even for a second, he was so pleased with himself that he didn’t notice your sarcastic intonation, he just ignored it, as usual. “Come out when you are ready, I’ll wait for you in the hall.”

“What for? I can pay for this myself.”

His cheesy titter unpleasantly cut your ear. “I don't want you to starve, babe,” you cast an angry glance at him, but he only stroked your cheek before adding: “You only need to be an obedient girl, and I'll give you as many gifts as you want.”

“But I didn’t ask...”

A sudden ring of his mobile phone got his attention, so he hushed you with a finger before quickly going out from the dressing room, leaving you alone with your inflaming rage.

Snorting tiredly, you mentally screwed him a million times in a row, changed your clothes and tried not to even think about eavesdropping on his conversation with whoever it was. As you left the dressing room, you heard the echo of his voice from nearby.

“Jesus, Evelyn! I’ve told you already, I can’t take the time off work.”

At that moment, you could swear your legs weren't listening as they led you straight to the source of the sound. With your heart beating, you halted near the dressing room when his voice suddenly fell silent, and the next second the curtain was carelessly pulled aside so that your frightened eyes met his furious ones.

'Oops!'

Annoyed, Patrick stared at you with his hands crossed on his chest. It was too late to run now, so you stood still and heard him saying:

"Are you lost?" With a cocky grin, he picked up his briefcase and stepped closer to you.

"No...I mean, yes. Probably," your cheeks burned from the inside as the strong feeling of embarrassment hit you like a truck. "I was just looking for you and..."

"Aha," he crooned before towering over you, grabbing you possessively by the waist and leaning down to whisper in your ear: "Do you know the proverb 'curiosity killed the cat'?"

"I haven't heard it since I was a kid," you confessed, swallowing hard as you watched him taking the dresses from your hands, the mysterious grin never leaving his face. "Sorry, I really didn't mean to eavesdrop."

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Haughtily, Patrick winked at you, and that was really confusing because his unpredictable mood changes were the most difficult puzzle you had ever known.

“You don’t even want to see which dress I chose?”

"Not really, I'll see it tomorrow anyway," his voice sounded more stern now. "Unless you change your mind about going with me.”

He cast a challenging glance at you, but before you had a chance to reply, Bateman walked past you and gestured for you to follow. Slightly disappointed, you went after him and soon you made it to the hall where all this shit started.

"So, did the young lady find something to her taste?" The stylist asked as soon as he saw you coming. 

"Yep," Patrick let him pick up the dresses and put them on the big table next to the beautiful leather couch on which Bateman kept looking in disgust and you didn't even know why. "(Y/n), c'mon, point with your finger to which dress you like?"

The way he cooed to you was absolutely stunning. Sometimes it seemed like he could read you like an open book, and that only made you feel insecure.

"I think this one." You replied with a shy smile.

"Nice, very nice!" Mr. Graham exclaimed before calling for an assistant to pack your dress. "That will be 2800 dollars, sir."

Satisfied, Bateman hummed to himself and pulled out his wallet. "Do you take credit cards?"

"Of course!"

All the while, you were pretty shocked by the price for just a piece of fabric. Frowning, you didn’t even realize you were saying it out loud. "2800 dollars, for this?"

Everyone, including Patrick, turned to look at you; the stylist was seriously confused and he just mumbled: "Excuse me?"

"Huh, don't worry," Bateman chuckled and handed him his platinum AmEx credit card. "She just can't believe I finally bought her a dress of your brand. Am I right, dear?"

When Patrick glanced at you, you felt a cold breeze run through your body—he must have been really angry. "Mmm, yes! I have been dreaming about this for so long."

Even though you were not an actress, your words sounded more than natural. Both men smiled at each other and proceeded with the payment procedure.

All the way back to his apartment you both remained almost silent. Patrick continued to listen to the rock track he had paused on before going into the store, looking at you from time to time when you didn't see him, his hand fidgeting with the hem of your new dress that was lying on your knees. Yet, you couldn't believe he'd just bought you a dress that cost more than your monthly rent. You hated to owe someone, but now you felt like you did, and it was killing you from the inside...because you didn't ask him to get you that dress, you didn't ask him for anything, and still he was trying to push you into the world of luxury where you would be a stranger forever.

'Bullshit.'

"(Y/n), what's on your mind?" His sudden question caught you off guard, and you almost bit your tongue. Why did he even ask, when it seemed he could read your mind?

Fidgeting in your seat, you turned away from the window and gazed into his brown eyes, now filled with an unrivaled enigma. "Just thinking about how to survive all the challenges you have set for me."

You heard him laugh softly, and before you could continue, he hugged your shoulders and snuggled into your small frame, the heat his body was radiating melted the cold shell you had been building up since the moment he decided to 'help' you in the dressing room.

“Challenges?” Patrick rejoined, nuzzling against your neck as he pulled your collar down a bit. 

“Yes, Patrick,” you were trying to hold yourself as much as you could, not giving him more weaknesses to play around. “You know how much I hate all these fancy things which are made only for rich people.”

Bateman only purred something incoherently against your skin, tickling it a bit. “Cupcake…I think you need to relax.”

“Relax?”

“Yes, baby,” he tugged you closer, his nose was nearly rubbing against yours. 'Goddamn!' “Relax and take it easy.”

"Stop, stop, stop..." you pushed him away a bit, forcing his headphones to slide down his head completely. "You've reminded me almost every day...that I'm not from 'your world', that I'm just a mortal who can't afford to buy fucking clothes that cost a fortune...and now you're telling me to just relax?"

Patrick huffed and rolled his eyes. “(Y/n)...don’t even start this conversation again.”

“You’re such an…”

Despite the fact that the partition in the cab was closed, it seemed as if the taxi driver heard your loud voice, and the next moment he opened it to ask you if everything was all right.

When you said that everything was fine, he started to drive again and you clenched your palms into fists, feeling the embarrassment and anger fighting in your mind.

"You're ashamed of me, aren't you?" You wondered without looking at him. 

The way Bateman exhaled was not a good sign. "When you make such scenes—yes, I am." 

Sighing, you pressed a hand to your forehead. Damn, he was affecting you so badly and you hated yourself for it, for being so weak next to him, so vulnerable...you were literally losing yourself.

His apartment looked perfect as always, so clean, so posh, but there was something strange this time as you walked across the living room and saw a large bouquet of white roses on his kitchen island.

"Mmm, such beautiful flowers!" You approached them to inhale their scent.

"Yeah," he stated from behind, placing your dress on the back of his white couch. "I bought them for you."

Stunned, you broke away from them as if you were pricked. “For me?”

"I'm not going to repeat it," Patrick blurted out, walking into the kitchen to grab a glass and a bottle of super expensive whiskey. "Besides, I don't think it makes any sense now."

'Excellent.' 

Without asking, Bateman set a glass on the bar counter in front of you as you took a seat near it. Still frowning with irritation, he poured some red wine for you, and when you were about to thank him, he just strolled away. The situation was rather unconventional, to say the least, and you didn't really know what to do, maybe just leave?

"Patrick, I think we both need to cool off a bit...right?" you sipped at your wine, waiting for his answer, but he continued to ignore you. "I'm going to finish my drink and probably go home."

"Whatever." Was all he said, standing with his back to your face, clearly thinking about something. 

Upset, you stifled a sad gasp and took the glass before getting up. When you reached his white couch to have a look at your dress for distraction, you suddenly heard his challenging voice:

"You want to know who Evilyn is, don't you?"

Paralyzed, you almost choke on your wine. After coughing a little, you turned to see him standing near the coffee table with his hands in his pockets. This was getting serious.

"I don't understand, why do you ask?"

Patrick chuckled loudly and shook his head in disbelief. "Stop acting like a fool, Cupcake. I know you want this, I can even feel it," his face grimaced a bit dangerously while his eyes were getting darker by the second. "You've wanted it since we left the boutique, that's why you started acting like a bitch."

Trembling with burning rage, you squeezed the glass, almost breaking it. "I'm not in the mood for scenes, you know," you countered, not even noticing that you took a few confident steps toward him. "When I leave, you can bring Evelyn, Courtney, Meredith, whoever… and confront them for as long as you want!"

"Or maybe we can all have some fun together, huh?" he drawled the last words, enjoying the sight of your angry expression. "There's plenty of me to go around."

Scowling, you wanted to spit in his face, or slap him, or both. But instead, you just smiled and that was a little unexpected for him. "You're sick, Patrick. And I feel really sorry for you."

After saying that, you turned away from him to pick up the dress – you wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, so you even forgot about the glass in your hand.

"Of the two of us, you are the one who really needs some grief," his voice hurt you like a slow-acting poison, it was excruciating. Before Bateman returned to the kitchen, he added, "Evelyn is my fiancée, and has been all along. What an unpleasant surprise?"

A loud sound of broken glass echoed through the living room as soon as you heard his last words. It was a real miracle that the wine didn't splash onto the luxurious fabric of his white couch, but you didn't really care at that moment, with your heart beating so crazy in your chest. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and stood still, not hearing Patrick's footsteps behind you.  

'Damn, that glass must have cost a fortune.'

"Cupcake..."

"I know!" You cut him off, raising your trembling hands in the air. "I'll return the money...just tell me how much it costs?"

'Don't cry. Please, don't cry!' But you did, and when you felt his warm hand wrap around your forearm, you tried to push him away, yelping:

"Give me...give me something to clean the floor!"

"(Y/n), calm down! You're bleeding." 

"What?" you gasped, opening your eyes wide before looking down at your feet to see blood running down your ankle as a sharp piece of glass sank into your soft skin. Only then did you realize you were injured, a sharp pain hitting your brain like a lightning strike. “Oh, God…I thought it was w-wine…” You stammered as that was the end point for your nervous system.

With no more waiting, Bateman carefully took you in his arms to lift you up. Sobbing, you let him carry you into the bathroom and sat on the edge of his beautiful black tub. Gently, he removed your shoes and stretched out your bruised leg to assess the damage.

"Is it that bad?" You asked him in a shaky voice, trying not to look down at the wound. 

"No, but it would be better if you stopped flinching." He insisted, releasing your leg and going to the sink to get antiseptic, tweezers, bandages and cotton pads. 

As Patrick knelt before you, holding a pair of tweezers, time seemed to freeze for you, but then you screamed from the itching pain as he carefully pulled the shard of glass from your ankle.

"Mmmh," you mumbled through your palm when he pressed a cotton pad soaked in antiseptic. "Shit…I am so clumsy and reckless..."

"You are," Bateman murmured as he wrapped a bandage around your leg. Every move he made was very gentle and accurate. "But still, you are mine."

"No, I'm not," you struggled to free yourself from his grip, but his hands held your leg very tightly. "We both know that's not true..."

Shivering, you peered down at him as he remained on his knee beside you. Almost immediately, his hazel eyes locked with yours, mesmerizing as always. "Why is it always so difficult with you?"

“Ask yourself.”

The moment you attempted to get up, you almost fell on the floor, but Patrick caught you in his arms at the last second.

"Patrick, let me go..." you pushed him into his chest to get some distance, but he didn't even move. "I will leave and forget everything that happened between us. Just like you wanted!"

"I never said I wanted to!" he growled, holding you closer so you could almost feel his fast heartbeat. "Why can't you just be a good girl and accept what I give you?"

"Oh, you've already given me enough, believe me!"

Annoyed, Bateman just shook his head before pressing a finger to your lips, silencing you and taking your breath away. 

'No, no, no. Not again'

You swallowed hard as you felt his thumb slide up to your cheek to wipe away your salty tears. 

'Stop.'

"Cupcake."

'His voice, his scent, his brawny body.' 

"Look at me," Patrick whispered sweetly, and you felt yourself going limp in his strong arms, so you obeyed and let him kiss your temple. "You're driving me crazy and I hate it...because I'm so fucking obsessed with you!"

One sharp breath and his lips were on yours, forcing your hands to claw at his jacket, but Bateman only pulled you closer, deepening the kiss as his wet tongue played with yours. Panting against his mouth, you couldn't help but run your fingers through his soft hair, making it look so messy, but Patrick didn't care. Slowly, he lifted you up a bit to set you down on the sink opposite his bathtub, peppering your neck with little pecks.

"Daddy."

Just one simple word could turn this man into a savage beast, you knew it, but you couldn't stop yourself as your inner nature yearned for him and it felt like you were meant for each other, two broken souls finally found each other.

"Cupcake." He kissed your lips briefly before moving down to your cleavage and unbuttoning your shirt, his hot breath tickling your bare skin.

Everything about him was so intoxicating that your clouded mind refused to function at all and now you couldn't hear your inner voice begging you to stop. 

Quivering, you arched your back a little to give him better access, and immediately you heard him growl against your collarbone as he finally undid your shirt. Patrick didn't even bother to remove your bra - he just pulled it down, revealing your taut nipples; he licked his lips at the sight of them and then his greedy mouth was already devouring one of them.

"A-awwww," you mewled, hugging his shoulders as you literally melted under his touch. "Mmm, please!"

"Please what?" He looked at you, twisting your hard peak between his skilled fingers. 

"I..." you hiccupped from the way Bateman spread your legs as he nestled into you with pure possession, groping your hip and licking your neck. "I... don't know... Gosh!"

This was pure madness, what was consuming your mind, with every kiss he made, breaking all your barriers, the more you tried to resist it, the more it hit you back. Panting, you threw your head back and felt your eyes begin to water again as his strong hands caressed your trembling little body. Never in your life had you felt so lost. Never.

"Relax, sweetheart," Patrick mused into your ear as he slid his palm between your legs. And of course you were so shamelessly wet that you could flood his floor. "I got you."

"I can't, a-aah..." You sighed, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Yes, you can," Bateman planted another sloppy kiss on your neck before grabbing your hand to press it against the hard bulge in his pants. "I couldn't stop thinking..." he paused, drinking in your stifled moans as he gave your clit a few slight rubs. "Do you think about me, Cupcake? I know you do..."

"Mm-mhh," your hands roamed desperately down his broad back, fumbling with the smooth fabric of his suit. "And I...ahh-I know you don't think about me..."

A loud whimper fell from your lips as he shoved two fingers into your dripping pussy, almost causing you to bump your head against the mirror behind, but he prevented it by wrapping his hand around your neck.

"You're mistaken," his low groan echoed against the walls of his bathroom, sending shivers down your spine and coaxing your inner muscles to spasm around his fingers as they mercilessly rammed in and out of your throbbing cunt. "Because you know nothing about me," Patrick curled his fingers to stimulate your most sensitive spot, gritting his teeth as his aching cock was about to explode with ravenous desire. "Now be a sweet girl like you always are and..."

"Owwww!" you screamed in sharp pain as he accidentally pushed on your wound. “It hurts!”

"Fuck, I forgot...damn it!" He cursed and removed his hand from your leg.

Seizing the moment of his confusion, you slipped out of his embrace and nearly ran for the door, and thank God it was open, because when you heard his almost furious groan, your heart skipped a beat:

"Come back!" 

"No, it can't be like this," you leaned against the door, holding out a hand defensively. "Not after what you said..."

Trembling, you watched him breathe heavily through his red nostrils, his wild gaze seeming to burn you alive as his self-control was about to snap. Scared, you weren't sure what to expect from him next, so you decided to leave this place right now, while it was still not too late.

Quickly, you walked into his living room and grabbed the damn dress, trying not to think about the broken glass and spilled wine. To be fair, you thought Patrick was going to chase you or threaten you with punishment, but none of that happened as he stayed in his bathroom. It was suspicious, but you would think about it later. 

As you were about to leave, you walked past the open door to the bathroom and told yourself to just go and not look back. But when you reached the front door, you froze and sobbed - your heart sinking while your mind was waving a red flag.

'Just leave, please!'

Huffing, you turned and walked back to the open door. The scene you saw was not what you expected, it simply broke your heart - Bateman was standing still by the sink, leaning on his hands with his head bowed.

"Patrick."

"You're still here?" He asked without looking at you.

"I'll go with you tomorrow...but I'm not doing it for you," your voice wavered, but you didn't allow yourself to sound weak. "I just wanted to make that clear."

And then you left him alone in his super luxurious apartment on Manhattan's Upper West Side. No matter how hard you tried to hold back your tears, they kept slipping down your cheeks. Even when you were in the cab on your way home, your soul was still aching because it seemed like the wounds he made couldn't be healed.

When the night came, there were only a few windows with lights on, and Patrick's bedroom window was one of them.

Irritated, Bateman lay on his bed while a blonde girl sucked him off, bobbing her head up and down at a fast tempo. There was no denying that she was trying her best to give him as much pleasure as possible, but he felt nothing, literally no emotions – only the dark void inside his mind.

"(Y/n), you're doing everything wrong...not the way I like it!" Patrick grumbled, pulling on the girl's hair.

"Who?" She asked confusedly, looking up at him. "My name is Meredith, in case you forgot, honey."

Bateman just laughed and carelessly pushed her down, forcing her to continue. "Shut your fucking mouth and suck my dick. You stupid whore!"

Meredith was making too many noises which annoyed him so much as he was trying to concentrate on dreaming of you—your beautiful face, your innocent sparkling eyes. Although this girl was very pretty, definitely 'his type', there was not a single trace of you and he thought he would never reach his high.

"Mmhm, Patrick…Maybe you will fuck me already?" 

"Maybe," he sighed, watching her laying on her back with undisguised excitement, but then he frowned in a weird disgust. "No, get on your knees. I can't see your fucking face."

"W-what? What's wrong with you today?Ah!"

Angrily, he slapped her hip and rolled her onto her stomach. Without any preparation, he bottomed out, closing his eyes and thinking about the way you twitched every time he thrust inside you. Speeding up his pounding, Patrick finally felt his orgasm building up inside his body when she suddenly moaned. "Oh, yeah! Daddy, it feels so good!" 

That was not even rage, it was something beyond that. Brutally, he squeezed her neck, almost choking her, and growled near her ear as he leaned down. "Never call me that! Understand?" he yanked her against the bed, still clutching her throat, and only when she was on the verge of asphyxia he released her, fucking her harder and gritting his teeth. "Fucking bitch, you should thank me for not killing you."

Camera flashes never stopped clicking in front of your eyes, you almost thought it was impossible to hide from them. They were literally everywhere, as were the countless supermodels and rich yuppies who looked at them without shame, their hungry eyes ready to eat them alive.

"Hey, are you trying to get lost or what?" 

With a soft gasp, you stopped and turned around to see Patrick's irritated face as you walked through the huge hall, every part of which gave you strong vibes of luxury lifestyle.

"I don't think you'd notice my absence anyway," you replied, walking straight until his arm wrapped around your waist, causing your lungs to spasm from the sudden lack of oxygen. "Patrick?"

"Listen to me," he pulled you closer and leaned down to your ear, whispering in a serious tone. "There are a lot of bad people here who came for more than just fashion."

"Even worse than you?"

He scowled, but continued. "Much worse, believe me."

"Don't pretend you care," you tried to walk away, brushing his hand aside, but he tightened his grip. "Get off me!"

"You're too naive and innocent. I don't want you getting into trouble while you're here with me." Tensed, Bateman stroked your back to calm you down a bit as he noticed the people around starting to stare at you.

"That's very sweet, but I don't need your 'protection'...I'm pretty sure you came here for the same reason as all the other yuppies." 

"I didn't ask for your opinion, okay? Let's get to our seats," he said possessively, easily cradling you in his arms, covering your small frame like a cocoon. "We have the best seats, by the way. Right next to the runaway."

"Amazing," you murmured as he led you through the endless crowds. "Not a single model will escape your gaze."

"That's right."

Frowning, you were about to slip out of his grip when suddenly someone ran into you, stomping painfully on your feet.

"Ouch!" Your loud whimper caused Patrick to turn in your direction, but then he froze as he looked over your shoulder at the blonde girl who was immediately apologizing. 

"Oh God, I'm so sorry..." the familiar voice hit you like a bolt of lightning. "I can be so clumsy," she touched her forehead before locking her lost gaze with Bateman's. "Patrick?"

That was Courtney. There was no doubt it was her, especially when she smiled at him so brightly it could easily outshine the Sun. 

"Hello, Courtney. It's so good to see you!" Patrick crooned gallantly, his arms finally releasing your shivering body. 

But even if a few minutes ago you wanted him to take his hands off you, now you were feeling a bit upset that he actually did.

"How could I miss this?" She asked flirtatiously, completely ignoring your presence. "Where are your seats?"

"Yeah, where are they?" You blurted out abruptly, making them both almost jump. "I just don't want to interrupt your sweet conversation and..."

You almost hissed from the sudden pain as you felt his firm hand on your ass, pinching your buttocks. His face didn't change, though, as he continued to grin haughtily, his eyes never ceasing to roam over Courtney's pretty body. With slight irritation, Bateman approached your neck and whispered in your ear how to get to your seats, then nibbled briefly on your earlobe as a sign of his displeasure, but you didn't pay any attention.

"Thank you, Daddy." You uttered the last word in the most disgustingly sweet way you could and strolled away without looking back. No matter how much you wanted to, you just couldn't.

Patrick wasn't lying—the seats were really so close to the runway that you could probably see every little detail on the models' clothes.

After about fifteen minutes, it was getting dark, which meant that the show was about to start. You fidgeted in your seat, trying to find a comfortable position, but it just didn't work, your butt was still sore from Bateman's pinch.

As soon as you remembered him, you heard his voice as he moved across the seats to reach his place. Patrick grinned at you smugly as he sat down next to you, crossing one leg over the other and fixing his hair.

"You must be very pleased with yourself, Cupcake?" He asked mockingly.

You scowled and pretended not to understand what he was saying as the music turned up really loud: "I can't hear you."

Patrick just chuckled softly, put a hand on the back of your seat and moved closer. "I said you look so beautiful today."

'God, what a jerk.' 

"Can't say the same about you."

"Uh, such an angry little kitten," Bateman laughed, looking at you from under his beautiful lashes. "I don't think I'll survive this."

"You really think I care?"

And then the show started, unfortunately not allowing you to finish what you were about to say. As expected, the models looked gorgeous and the clothes they were wearing were absolutely amazing—you had to admit that. Although you tried your best not to notice the way Patrick was staring at the girls on the runway, you had to claw at your skin when one of them winked at him without any shame.

"This is the grace I've been telling you about," he bowed closer to you to make sure you heard what he was saying. "The perfect example of feminine beauty."

You smiled ironically and replied without looking at him: "The real beauty begins when the boys come out."

Your sudden statement elicited a muffled groan from his chest, but Bateman simply nodded and turned away from you. From that moment on, he was almost silent, and it was a little strange, but as the male models appeared on the runway, you stopped analyzing and just enjoyed the handsome men walking back and forth in front of you. Everything was fine until one of the models found your eyes in the crowd and smiled at you. And of course Patrick wouldn't miss it.

"Do you like him?"

"W-who?" You stammered, feeling his warm hand on your knee.

"The model who just walked by," he murmured, stroking your exposed skin under the hem of your dress, sensing the way you tensed under his touch. "Maybe you should go talk to him after the show."

Shit, you couldn't believe he meant it or... you just didn't want to believe it?

"I'm not like you, Patrick," you chastised, feeling so damned angry as his words cut painfully through your heart. "You sometimes forget that not everyone is like that..."

"Like what?" Bateman scoffed with a raised eyebrow.

"You know what I mean." You added with a teasing smile and turned away from him, but he immediately grabbed your face, forcing you to squeal from the unexpectedness. 

"No, I don't," he scoffed, pushing on your jaw. "C'mon, Cupcake, tell me."

The surrounding darkness came in handy in this situation, not to mention the fact that almost everyone was focused on watching the show, so Bateman felt pretty confident knowing that no one would notice your little fight here.

"Get off!" You hissed, wrapping both your hands around his wrist in an attempt to pry it away.

"Awww, look at those little hands," he pulled you closer, so you could feel his hot breath on your trembling lips. "You are so small and yet so brave. It fascinates me, I won't lie."

You froze for a second as his words caught you off guard. Blinking several times, you didn't even notice that his large palm was now gently stroking your chin, moving up to your cheek and ending this little intimate moment by pressing lightly on your half-opened lips.

Actually, that was the worst thing he could do at that moment, because his illusory softness and tenderness hurts like hell. It was like a sweet candy with a sharp blade inside.

Just as you realized how close your faces were, you tried to pull away, but Patrick's grip was too tight. Fixing you in place by your chin, he captured your mouth with his, hungrily relishing your taste, your shiver, your muffled gasp against his lips. Bateman tested your limits so masterfully that every little move he made was as precise as his side profile. Slowly he wrapped one hand around your neck while another was already resting on your waist, the kiss you shared was something more than just physical contact, and you let yourself sink into the flow of emotions, closing your eyes and letting him kiss deeper. You almost moaned, but the surrounding music of the show drowned out any obscene sounds that tried to escape your swollen lips.

His strong, warm tongue danced along yours, not even giving you a chance to take the lead, so you just opened your mouth wider and let your noses brush together, forcing your hearts to beat in a crazy rhythm.

God, this man was the darkest curse... the most delightful blessing.

After a few seconds, the people around started applauding so loudly that you had to open your eyes just as the lights came on. The strange delusion that was like a white veil behind your vision began to fade, and only then did you and Patrick realize that you were both staring at each other, your mouths still pressed together.

A second, two seconds.

It seemed as if you were both waiting to see who would break away first, and as soon as you heard someone coughing behind your back, you pulled away from Patrick's strong arms, but you knew that you only managed to break free because he let you.

"Patrick! I thought I wouldn't see you here!" A familiar female voice echoed from above and you didn't even bother to turn around to see another bimbo Bateman was hanging out with.

Shit, what if she saw what you were doing?

At first you thought Patrick would pretend he didn't know you or something, but instead Bateman smiled smugly and put his hand on the back of your chair.

Annoyed, but still as majestic as a lion, he looked up at the blonde and said quickly: "Hi, Meredith."

Her face turned into a sad grimace, though she pretended that Bateman's indifference didn't upset her. Obviously, Meredith was outraged and needed someone to take her anger out on. 

With a haughty grin, she scoffed and almost stepped on your foot. "I don't understand, how can a man like you go out with someone like... her?"

Damn, that was such an obvious insult that it didn't even trigger a single emotion, you just gave her a deadly stare when you finally met her little eyes and you could swear that you saw a trace of fear in them.

"I asked myself the same question," you muttered suddenly, getting up from your seat and looking at Patrick, whose perfect eyebrows now frowned, especially when he understood what you were you doing—he squeezed the back of the chair until his knuckles turned white. "Have a nice evening." 

With those words, you quickly walked away, and you were so damn glad that Bateman decided not to follow you, because with every step you took, your eyes got more and more watery. 

"How did she even get here? Ugly people like that should stay at home to avoid traumatizing anyone." Meredith hissed as she watched your little figure moving away from them. "Who is she?" 

Patrick chuckled, then did his classic move of parrying the question with his natural charm. "Oh, you're so mean," he muttered as he watched the blonde take your seat next to him. Playfully, Bateman pinched her nose and they both started to giggle, no matter how disgusted he felt himself right now, he wouldn't admit that your sudden leaving made him sad. "Such an angry little bitch."

You couldn't remember how you found your way to the ladies' room, but as soon as you stepped up to the sink and looked in the mirror, you scowled and clenched your fists from the sharp pain in your chest. 

"I... I hate you so much!" You hissed in a trembling voice, not really knowing who you were addressing, yourself or Patrick, who was probably already taking the blonde bimbo to his place.

His womanizer nature was not a secret, so why did it hurt so fucking much? 

Depressed by your weakness towards this man, you wanted to smash the mirror to stop seeing this sad face covered with tears, but you heard someone coming, so you just froze in place with your trembling hands in the air. A model walked past you and accidentally bumped your shoulder.

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" She squealed and opened the fauster to wash her hands.

Even though you understood that she didn't do it on purpose, it made you so mad that you almost ran out of the bathroom, loudly slamming the door behind you.

The moment you realized that you couldn't remember how to get out of here made all your insides cramp like a spring, and you thought you were just going to fall to the floor from a sudden fear of being lost. 'Fuck, not now, not now!'

Quivering, you looked around, searching for... Patrick? But instead of him, you could only see an endless number of beautiful models strolling here and there. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath to calm yourself, but when that didn't help, your legs seemed to give way, and you slipped against the wall until you rested on the floor. This panic attack was nothing compared to the ones you had before, your heart pounding painfully against your chest as if trying to burst through it. Things got worse when you felt the lack of oxygen as you literally suffocated with panic and your body burned from the inside out.

The group of models stood by and noticed your small, shivering form, rocking back and forth with your hands wrapped around your head. 

"Hey! Are you okay?" One of them approached you and crouched down beside you, trying to help you up, but you refused.

"Don't touch her, Lizzy! Maybe she's on drugs. Let's go already!"

"No, wait... she clearly needs help," the models looked at each other, one of them trying to pat your shoulder to calm you down, while her friend tapped her foot annoyingly. "Are you in pain? Did someone hurt you?"

"N-no," you finally mumbled, opening your eyes to see that not only two, but many of these girls were already gathered around you. "I— I'm fine, I'm sorry... I'm just..." 

Lost.

Jesus, that was so embarrassing that the words just stuck in your throat like a lump, and now you felt like a little girl who got lost in the big mall when she decided to run away from her parents. 

"What's going on here?" That voice made you almost faint. "Get away!"

A bit roughly, Bateman pulled the model away from you and leaned down to your shivering form.

"HEY! We were just trying to help!"

"Go away! All of you!" He turned and barked at all the girls watching the scene. "Get the hell out of here, there is nothing to look at!"

Your head was spinning, at first you couldn't even believe it was him, hiding you from everyone with his broad, tall figure, as if he was trying to… protect you?

"Cupcake? Cupcake, look at me," his worried cooing made you submit, making you want to believe that he was really concerned about you. Gently, he cupped your face and stroked your slightly disheveled hair. "What happened?"

At first, you didn't say anything — you were paralyzed, mesmerized by his brown eyes, which were gliding desperately up and down your body, checking every little part of it. 

"Who did this to you?"

'You did.'

But he would never know.

"You came," you replied briefly. "Why?" 

Patrick frowned at your answer and let out a tired sigh. "I've been looking for you since you left, because this place is huge, and I didn't want you to get into trouble, but," he paused and brushed your tears away concisely. "But it looks like I'm too late. God, you're so reckless," he shook his head and stood up.

As soon as Patrick did that, something clicked in your head, and you didn't even notice that you were already on your feet as you snuggled up to him and buried yourself in his arms with a deadly grip.

"Please, don't go!" You begged in a trembling voice, hugging him tighter. "Don't leave me!"

Shocked, Bateman didn't know how to react, his arms dropped motionlessly, but then he carefully placed them on your back, drawing invisible lines along your spine. 

"I have to get our coats. You came here in your coat, did you forget?"

Blinking several times as you looked into his eyes, you replied softly: "Yeah… I did."

Patrick couldn't help but smile adorably. "Wait for me here, (y/n). I'll lead you outside, you'll feel better there." He explained and distanced himself from you. "Don't go anywhere! Got it?"

You nodded, and only then did he walk away. Without even looking back, he disappeared into the crowd.

Bateman was right, once you left the building your condition improved, and you could finally breathe in the fresh air, filling your lungs with the oxygen they so desperately needed. A cool wind blew into your face, making you shiver, but it was nothing compared to the emotions you were experiencing right now — the fact that Patrick had come for you, that he was looking for you, left you with no choice but to stifle a loud scream that you wanted so bad to let out.

Bateman remained silent, standing a short distance behind you, puffing on his cigar and watching the smoke rise from it.

"Has this ever happened to you before?" His question came out of nowhere.

You shrugged, but didn't turn around. "Yeah... it happens sometimes, especially in crowded places."

Bateman didn't say anything, but you could feel the tension between the two of you. Without a rush, he moved closer to you, watching you hug yourself — the difference in your sizes made him gulp, but he didn't dare touch you. Not yet.

"Why didn't you tell me then?" He whispered above your ear before smoking his cigar.

"Because it doesn't matter."

"It does."

"No!" You blurted out and turned round to face him. "It… doesn't."

The way he looked at you was enough to make you hold your breath and take a small step back, but the next moment you were already trapped in his sturdy arms, the sharp smell of snuff filling the air around you as he blew off several rings of smoke.

"You're not going anywhere now." His voice lowered, and you closed your eyes from the astonishing sensation of being caught in his strong hands, feeling his hot breath on your face. 

"Patrick," you gasped and hugged him back, surprising him for a second. "Thank you for... for everything."

A loud cacophony of laughter and rumbling got your attention and you looked over his shoulder to see Meredith and her friends coming towards you. She seemed to spot you even faster than you spotted her, and now her eyes were bloodshot red.

"Can you," you stammered, feeling ashamed. "Can you kiss me?"

What the hell was going on inside your head?

Anyway, you didn't have time to reflect on this, because Patrick wasn't the type of person who needs to be asked twice. The moment his soft lips met yours, the ground under your feet seemed to disappear, so he had to hold you with both hands, not caring that his expensive cigar fell down. Even if you would blame yourself for that, all you could think about now was his strong hands sliding along your small form, outlining your curves as you let him do it, while he used his wet tongue to make you go limp in his embrace.

Sneakily, Patrick admired your beautiful face with his half-open eyes, probably not even realizing how much you meant to him, how deep you were rooted in his soul. But did he even have a soul in the first place?

When you broke the kiss, you didn't see Meredith or her friends anymore. Bateman noticed you were looking for something, so he turned to look at the direction of your gaze.

"Cupcake?" He was confused when he didn't see anyone. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Uh, yeah! I just thought I saw a familiar face," you lied, trying to act natural. "I... I should probably go home."

Patrick gave you a suspicious glance, still holding you in his arms. "Actually, I don't want to leave you alone after what happened."

"What do you mean?" you asked, a little disappointed. "I said I'm fine."

"Shhh," he pressed a finger to your lips, and you felt the smooth, cold leather of his glove. "I know you like to be bratty, but now isn't a good time. You really scared me."

Sighing, you dropped your head and covered his hand with both of yours. "I'm sorry, I... I didn't want you to see me like that."

To be honest, you didn't want anyone to see you like this because you hated looking weak in front of people. Especially in front of people like him, because it would automatically give him another trump card to play around with.

"Let me take you home." Bateman mumbled briefly, fixing your hair and then rubbing your neck to relax you.

"Aren't you afraid you'll have a heart attack coming to my place? It's not like your apartment in Manhattan."

He chuckled and pinched your cheek, leaving you confused and offended.

"Of course it's not," Patrick grinned and poked you in the nose. "I don't have any expectations."

You frowned and tried to push him back, but he only pressed you closer, nuzzling your neck and leaving a small hickey on it for which you were not ready — your muffled whimper made him sneer even louder.

"That's a pretty exhaustive answer," he didn't even allow you to say anything in return as he kissed you again, but this time much more passionately. "I'll get us a cab."

This man was like a hurricane that tossed everything around and no matter how many walls you built — he would break them down, one after the other, because nature couldn't be stopped. It seemed that you were completely disarmed against your own nature, because it was calling for him, it was pushing you into his possession, and you were already so tired of fighting these feelings.

There was something special about New York at night, when millions of lights were shining like diamonds, reflecting on the water of the Hudson River and taking your breath away with the feeling of being so small in such a huge city, where the numerous soaring skyscrapers were almost touching the sky.

Tiredly, you closed your eyes, sighed, and leaned on the armrest of the car door, watching the scenery change behind the window. Patrick listened to the music, as he always did, his hands stroking your knee from time to time, but you could hardly feel it, since you were completely overwhelmed by emotions, feelings and thoughts. It was hard to believe that even after all that had happened, you still let him take you home, knowing damn well that he wouldn't just stay in the cab when it stopped at your place. 

Just as you entered your apartment and turned on the lights, you heard his slightly nervous chuckle and little comment.

“Mmm, it's pretty clean here.”

His words almost made you choke. “Did you really think that my place would look like a dump just because I don't live in Manhattan?”

“I didn't mean that.” Bateman murmured behind you, following you carefully down the hall. “Where can I put my coat?”

“Why do you ask? I don't remember inviting you here,” You took off your coat and put it on the rack next to him. “Aren't you afraid your coat will stink  of poverty?”

Patrick couldn't help but chuckle in a husky voice. “You're funny, Cupcake.”

'And why did I trust this man at all? What was so special about him?'

You didn't say anything, only a thin smile ran over your tired face as you turned around and saw him putting his coat over yours. After that, you continued to walk to your small kitchen, and as soon as you reached the table next to the window, your eyes began to search for something.

“Did you lose something?” He asked, leaning against the wall and hiding his hands in his pockets.

“N-no,” you stammered, as if he had caught you doing something bad. God, he was embarrassing you in your own apartment! “Just … It's been a while since I've had guests.”

Patrick hummed something incoherently and crossed his arms over his broad chest, then moved lazily to the kitchen counter when something caught his eye while you were busy gathering all the stuff on the kitchen table — including some books and various papers from work.

With undisguised interest, Bateman picked up the medicine to take a closer look at its name. “Don't you know these things can cause addiction?”

“What?” You turned to see him examining your sedatives.

“How long have you been taking them?” He asked again, his perfect eyebrows knitted together now.

You sighed tiredly and walked over to him, holding out your hand. “Not too long. Now give it to me, please.”

“I can bring you much better medication than this, since it obviously doesn't work,” he stated in a stern voice, without looking at you. “Because the panic attacks are still kicking your pretty ass.”

His words made your jaw clench, but you didn't even try to snatch the medication from him, instead you just let out a soft groan of annoyance, crossed your arms and rolled your eyes.

“That's very kind of you, but I have to decline your offer.” You replied, watching him shake his head in irritation. “Besides, you can only get those pills with a doctor's prescription.”

Patrick just shrugged and put the pills back on the kitchen counter.

“That's not a problem,” he quickly straightened his red tie before stepping closer to you. “I have one of the best therapists in the city.”

“Uh-huh, and the pharmacy you go to is probably one of the best, too?”

He grinned. “Sure, I usually get my meds from the one on Broadway.”

“Good for you.”

You started to saunter away from him, but his hands caught you faster than you could react. The next thing you knew, Bateman was holding you tightly against his tall, broad frame, looking down at you with obvious concern.

“Cupcake,” he murmured in a sweet voice, tracing a finger along your cheek. “I just want to help.”

Damn, this man only had to touch you a little bit and you were already lost in him. 

“Patrick, you don't have to. I—” You didn't have a chance to finish your sentence because your lips were sealed by his. 

Completely defenseless and vulnerable — that was how you felt right now, and it seemed as if he could feel it as the kiss grew deeper and more intense with each passing moment. Cautiously, you rested your hands on his shoulders before sliding them down to the lapels of his suit, fumbling with the soft material and feeling the ground disappearing beneath your feet.

'It's already too much.'

Only when you were both breathless did Patrick decide to break the kiss, but his arms were still wrapped around your waist, as if he was afraid you would disappear like a mirage. 

“You were involved in all this because of me," he paused and leaned down to you again, letting your noses rub against each other. This little physical contact made your heart flutter. “And you really made me worry.”

Bateman said it so quickly, as if he wasn't even thinking properly at that moment. Embarrassed, you shrugged a bit in his arms. No matter how hard you tried to believe this man, all you could think about now was whether you were trapped in his other manipulative, mind games.

“I’ll be fine, I promise,” you put a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating fast under your fingertips and the next second you pulled your hand away as if you got burned. “Anyway, it’s late already and you probably have some more interesting stuff to do.”

His soft chuckling was annoying but pleasant to hear. “You’re not quite hospitable, aren’t you?”

Eventually, he let you go and stepped aside, unbuttoning his jacket — that scene caused your pulse to race. 

“What are you doing?” “What does it look like?”

You crossed your arms and sighed. “Patrick, I really appreciate your help and… the show was really cool, but I doubt I would ever go back to that place again.” 'Damn it, did I actually say that?'

After Bateman removed his jacket, he carefully put it on the back of one of the kitchen chairs and tucked his sleeves. 

“You’re welcome,” he beamed with a cocky smile. “I thought you would offer me some tea, coffee or something?”

“I doubt I have anything good to your taste,” slowly, you turned away from him, as an unpleasant feeling of shame struck you right through your chest. “Mmm, I can only offer you mineral water but it’s not Apollinaris.”

“Oh, dear,” he crooned and suddenly hugged you from behind. “I didn’t expect you to have Apollinaris. Honestly.”

Gasping barely audibly, you covered his arms on your waist with your own arms and cocked your head to meet his brown eyes and for God’s sake, why did he always look so tempting, so captivating, so… magnetizing?

With a sharp breath, you managed to avoid another kiss he planned to pull you into, and it coaxed a low growl of disappointment to erupt from his half-opened lips which were so intended to collapse with yours. 

“Patrick,” you gulped when he nuzzled against your neck, leaving small wet marks along your sensitive skin. “Please, stop. Let me just bring you some water and I want to relax a bit, after… after everything that happened.”

It was kinda unexpected that Bateman decided to let you go as easy as that without even trying to overpower you like he always does.

“And what do you do to relax?"

“Hot bath.” You responded without looking at him. Annoyed, you stumbled past him to grab the meds he was inspecting a few minutes ago, and then you opened the fridge to take out the bottle of mineral water. As soon as you started to pour the water into the most beautiful glass you had, you noticed his persistent stare, which made you almost spill the water onto the kitchen counter. “What?”

“These pills are no good for you, (y/n),” his anxious tone was very unnatural, you didn’t even remember him sounding like this ever before. “Stop being stubborn.”

With a small thud, you put the glass on the table next to him and replied a bit aggressively: "I don't think they're worse than coke."

At first, Bateman just gritted his teeth and clenched his hands into fists, but then he took a quick sip of the mineral water, trying as hard as he could to play cool.

“Thanks.” Was all he said and that was actually not the reaction you have expected.

There was an awkward silence hanging in the air for some seconds and none of you wanted to continue this conversation, but once you tried to move his hand (that was wrapped around your forearm), his low voice engulfed you like a hot steam.

“Cupcake, I just want to make sure you won’t do anything bad.” “W-what do you mean?” You frowned in confusion and glanced at his hand before you raised your eyes to his perfect face. “Patrick, I suffer from panic attacks… not the things you're thinking of.”

“Then, go take a bath and I’ll leave after that.”

“But I’m not a child,” the more you were trying to resist him, the more your body was yearning for his touch, his large palm on your back was enough to make you forget how to breathe. “You don't owe me anything, this is my problem and I’ll handle this, just like I was doing it before.”

“To be fair, your behavior only shows how immature you are,” he crooned and traced a long, sensible line along your spine. “But, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt since you’re overwhelmed.”

At some point, you found yourself tired from trying to convince him to leave you alone, so you just nodded and quickly took your sedative before heading to the bathroom under his attentive gaze. After all, even if you even attempted to make him go away you would fail because compared to him you were so small and weak — Patrick had power over you in all ways, and he knew that. 

You were trapped in your own flat, what nonsense.

In a few minutes, you were sitting in the bath and letting the warm water bring you some relief, just like it always did. Affected by sedatives, you didn’t even remember whether you closed the bathroom door or not, but being honest, you didn’t really care, because even if Patrick came here he wouldn’t see anything new. 

The bitter aftertaste of what happened made you feel like shit, and you really didn't know how to find a way out from it. As if it was not enough for you to be dependent on Patrick (you owe him a lot of money), now you gave him more weaknesses that he could potentially use against you. 

'Excellent!'

Hugging your knees, you burst in tears — salty tears that were falling into the water, leaving small circles on it. Before now, you didn’t even realize how devastated you were. You closed your eyes for a second and you drifted off almost instantly, and with each passing moment, your body was submerging into the water more and more.

Meanwhile, Bateman was sitting on the little couch in your living room, which he suddenly found pretty cozy, though he checked if everything was clean enough before he dared to take a seat. Did he really think that people outside Manhattan used to live in dirty, trashy apartments? Well, maybe he did, since he didn’t even remember when was the last time he was in such places.

Ever since you left, Patrick had been fighting the temptation to go through your things to find something interesting, which he would of course use for his own interests. But instead, he picked up one of your books from the coffee table, and as he did so, a small piece of paper fell out. Squinting suspiciously, Bateman leaned down to grab it, only to almost crumple it when he saw your handwriting —  the paper was completely covered with your notes, and they were all the same phrase — "If I want to be loved as I am, I have to be willing to love others as they are." Patrick couldn't count how many times you had written that, but each line he read evoked something strange in him — the unraveling feeling that urged him to rip the paper, to crumple it. Is it compassion that he was so afraid of?

Closing his eyes for a moment, Bateman took a deep breath and put the paper back in the book, no matter how much he wanted to destroy it or forget what he had just read. After that, he checked his Rolex and noticed that it had been quite a while since you had left. Slowly, he got up from the couch and went to the bathroom. His 'sixth sense' had never failed him before, so he decided to rely on it and check on you.

Patrick didn’t knock once he noticed that the door was not closed, he just stepped in, looking for you.

“Cupcake, are you—”

A chilling shock swept over him when he saw only the top of your head above the water. Without a second thought, he ran across the bathroom and knelt down beside the tub to pull you out of the water, and the moment he did, you began to cough, clinging to his arms and desperately gasping for air.

“Pat-Patrick,” you were shaking so badly, so he had to hold you in one place, pressing you against his solid chest. “I don’t know how that happened… I… I didn’t want this I—” “Shh, (y/n),” Bateman cooed at you in order to calm you down, but he wasn't any less scared than you. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

Trembling, you looked up at him — your eyes so red from tears, your heart beating like a broken alarm-clock. “I think I ruined your suit… I’m so sorry!”

Appalled, you tried to break free but Patrick didn’t let you move, his strong arms were holding you like tight ropes. Damn, he was so angry — he could sense his blood boiling inside his veins, forcing his jaw to clench in a silent growl. He was so fucking mad at himself. 

How could he let this happen? 

As this question ran through his bewildered mind, he froze in fear. He didn't know if he was talking about letting you nearly drown in your own bathtub or letting you take roots on his broken soul. Maybe that was the reason you two had bonded, two broken souls seeking for something that would stop their pain, something that would bring them freedom from a burdened life. But how could he help you when every day he was fighting his dark side, the side you didn't know about yet? The side he wished you would never meet.

Never.

"God... I'm so stupid." You cried out, interrupting his train of thought and bringing him back to reality. 

"Shh," Bateman husked, cupping your face. "Stop talking!" He sighed and looked into your blurry eyes, breathing so heavily that it was almost painful. "Just don't say anything right now."

Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe the sedative had a side effect on you, but as soon as he tried to pull you out of the tub completely, your hand slipped down his chest to his groin — your sneaky fingers instantly playing with the buckle of his belt, causing a shaky groan to escape his lips. Dazed, you moved your hand lower to feel the outline of his thick cock getting harder under your touch, but as you were about to unzip his pants, his firm hand stopped you, confusing your cloudy mind and inducing you to raise your eyes to meet his. He could swear no one had ever looked at him like that — so innocently, yet so sinfully. 

"Cupcake, you don't want this," Patrick murmured, removing your hand. "Trust me."

"I do want this!" You replied in a trembling voice, pouting like a child.

"You're so fucking lost right now, you just don't understand," he manhandled you out of the tub and you almost punched him in his beautiful face, but Bateman paid no attention to your attempt to hit him. "Towels, where are they?"

Huffing, he lifted you up, and only then did you calm down, wrapping your hands and legs around him as securely as you could, like you were afraid of falling off the roof of the skyscraper. 

After you pointed at the bathroom counter, Bateman carefully moved towards it to take some big, white towel and wrap it around you — he was drying you off so gently and attentively, it almost made you cry again. 

Emotions were overtaking you.

Patrick didn't even say a word when he was done, he just got another dry towel and swaddled you in it like in a cocoon before carrying you out of the bathroom bridal style. Somehow, he managed to find the way to your bedroom, but once he saw your bed, he scowled and remarked: “Jesus, this bed is so small.”

“I love my bed.” You murmured in reply, hugging his neck and pressing yourself closer against his warm body.

Bateman couldn't help but chuckle in amusement, giving you a brief forehead kiss and sitting you down on the bed. As soon as you lost physical contact with him, you leaned on your elbows, watching him turn around and walk away.

“Patrick! Please, don’t go!” 

Your words echoed inside his head like the most sacred plea, they made him stop and looked in your direction. “I need to remove my clothes since they’re pretty damp,” he checked himself, with a visible disgust on his face. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Be a good girl, and just wait for me here, okay?”

“Fine.” You mumbled and took the plushy bunny which was resting on your bed next to you.

This scene made him chuckle before he left your bedroom. Now you were completely alone with your thoughts, they didn't wait a second to start eating you from the inside again. With your eyes closed, you lay on your back and began to count.

One, two, three…

What if he lied saying that he would return? Gosh, you wanted him to leave the moment you came here, so why were you getting so upset thinking about him leaving you alone just as you asked him for?

Four, five, six…

The inner voice kept reminding you how many times Patrick has hurt you, how many times he made you cry, how many times you felt like a toy in his hands. You gritted your teeth, pressing your hands against your head to stop thinking.

Seven, eight, nine…

How many times have you promised yourself that you would break out from this circle of lies, pain and suffering? 

“Stop it!” You whimpered, shutting your eyes as firm as you could until the tears started to form.

Ten.

“Stop what?” His voice—it was like a lifeline, like a light in the end of the tunnel, it was everything you needed here and now.

The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was his almost naked form, namely his toned tiddies and his mouth watering V-line, not to mention his perfect abs and the small trail of hair below his navel.

“For one second I thought you would just leave.” You looked into his hazel eyes, which were partly covered by his messy, brown hair.

“In wet clothes?” He giggled and stepped closer to your bed. It was so hard to ignore the bulge in his tight white underwear, but you tried your best not to stare at it. “Feeling better?"

“Yes, I think y-yes,” you swallowed hard when Bateman sat on the edge of your small bed and drew an invisible line across your ankle. “Can I… ask you for something?”

“You can try.” His voice got lower, sending shivers down your spine.

Panting, you uncovered yourself, putting the towel aside and letting him admire the view of your beautiful body, a pleasure he gladly took, his thirsty eyes roaming all over your curves, especially your full breasts and your inviting neck.

“What do you want, Cupcake?” His hand slides up to your hip, teasing the sensitive skin and making you gasp from need. “Tell me.”

“I need you,” you bit your lower lip, frowning from how embarrassed you were. “I n-need you more than ever.”

With no rush, Bateman bent down to your belly to press a brief kiss which elicited a soft moan to fall from your shaky throat. “Show me where you need me.”

You were about to lost it at any second, as the mind-blowing passion was crashing over you like a fucking tsunami, and you didn’t even know if you would survive this. 

Could that be the moment of no return for both of you?

Stifling a moan, you took his big palm and guided between your opened legs—the sound of his fingers sliding along your oozed folds made you arched your back and you thought your heart would break out from your chest. Your heavy breathes filled up the room, and once you felt his hot lips on your mound, you nearly squeaked, creasing the sheets beneath you.

Patrick was enjoying every second of this moment, savoring the taste of your skin, reveling in all your little salacious noises when he encircled his arms around your legs and swiped his tongue over your throbbing clit.

That was the last drop of your resistance and you couldn't control it anymore, throwing your head back and mewling sensually: “Mmhm, Daddy…! You make me f-feel so good.”

“Are you sure you want this?” His sudden question pierced through your head like an electric pulse.

Gulping, you got up a bit to look down at him, his cheeks, neck and shoulders were already flushed, his hair was disheveled and his eyes were as dark as night.

“Yes,” you responded shortly, feeling a tight knot forming inside your lower abdomen just from being so close to his face. “Taste me, Daddy, please… I want to get lost… in you.”

“I see,” he said, hovering over you for a moment to grab the plushy bunny, then handing it to you with a mischievous grin. "Little girls always keep their favorite toys close?”

As soon as you held the bunny, Bateman got back to his previous position, fondling your hips here and there, then he kissed your inner thigh and put your legs together before bending them and pressing against your chest.

“Stay like that.”

After saying that, he brushed away his wavy locks, spit on your pussy and made several, barely sensible, strokes along your bundle of nerves, his sturdy arms were holding your legs to fixate you in one place as his ministrations were making it hard for you to stay still.

“Awww, P-Patrick,” you keened and squeezed the plush toy in your hand, feeling so dirty yet so high from the way his wet tongue was painting various ornaments on your taut lower lips. “I’m gonna faint…”

“Mmm,” he moaned against your feverish little bud before he took it inside his mouth, sucking it so deliciously that your eyes rolled back into your head, your inner walls were already spasming. “You’re my sweet little Cupcake.”

“Yes! Yes, please!”

Slurping at your soaked cunt, Bateman let you rest your legs on his shoulders and pull on his brown hair as you wanted to bring him even closer, moving your hips towards his face. God, you were such a wet moaning mess and when he shoved his long fingers inside of your dripping slit, you lost connection with reality and ascended to the apex of ecstasy.

His fingers were moving inside and outside of you like a clock-work, so smoothly and fast, since he knew your body so perfectly, it was quite simple for him to find your spongy G - spot. Once he started to stimulate it, your toes began to curve and your whole body was jolting as if you were hit by the eclectic shock.

The moment of your orgasm was as astonishing and relieving as a sip of water in the arid desert. But even after you cummed, Patrick didn’t stop eating you out, fingering you harder, so your juices were gashing around your sweaty bodies, the sheets beneath you were already wet and you didn’t know how you would live tomorrow when he leaves you.

“Mmmmh, I’mma cum again, D-Daddy!” You whimpered, squirming around the bed and pressing the plushy bunny against your face as you were on the verge of tears – overstimulation hitting pretty hard.

Bateman only growled in response and stuffed your soaked pussy with another finger, rhythmically swirling his hot tongue around your throbbing tip while his sneaky hand traced up along your shivering body to grope one of your breasts and pinch your engorged nipple.

“Ahhh—GOSH…! Pat...” Your voice cracked as you cummed so hard all around his face that your wetness was literally running down his chin. But he didn’t care, because the only thing that mattered for him was bringing you as much pleasure as he could.

Even when he was panting heavily against your abused cunt, and he almost couldn't feel his fingers anymore, he continued to lap at your cleft. By that moment your legs were looped around his head and you couldn’t stop twitching even for a second, with each lick he sent millions of tingles to your lower belly.

“Daddy, it’s t-too much… I can’t take it any longer.” You felt so goddamn sensitive, and your body was like jelly at this point.

“C’mon, babydoll,” he groaned in a raspy voice after he pulled on your clit with a nasty squeal. “You can give Daddy another one, can't you baby? For me, please?"

This time Patrick buried his tongue as deep inside your womb as he could, licking you from the inside out. He repeated the motion, making you climax countless times in a row, until your little frame couldn't bear it anymore. Soon, you drifted off with a smile of joy on your face, holding the plushy bunny close to your chest. Long time ago that toy was your only friend, but now it seemed like you have become a toy yourself. But unlike the plush bunny, it was obvious that you weren't the only toy for your owner.

Why did it hurt so good to be alive?

You heard a faint voice calling you and asking for help, but no matter how hard you tried to follow it and find it—all you could see was darkness before your eyes. Scared, you moved along the dark alley, surrounded by shadows, shivering from the abnormal cold, and for a second you even thought you were already dead. But when the voice called you again, you finally realized that it was your inner voice, but it sounded so sad, even compared to your darkest days.

"How did you end up like this, (y/n)?" Your own reflection spoke to you, each word cutting through your heart like a dagger. "You're so pathetic and weak, what would Mom and Dad say if they knew about your 'successful' life in New York?"

Frowning, you closed your hands around your ears to stop this madness, but the more you tried to ignore it, the louder the voice became in your head.

"Look what you've done to yourself! Do you really think he cares about you?" 

"Leave me alone!" You yelled at your shadow copy and ran down the alley, but there seemed to be no escape.

"Wake the fuck up! Bateman is just using you for his own needs, and you let him treat you like a fucking toy. Being in debt to him is not an excuse!" You could hear it even with your ears closed and there was nowhere to hide.

"SHUT UP!" You sped up, the cold air hitting your face mercilessly, but you didn't care. "Get out of my head!"

God, it was so fucking absurd to argue with yourself.

Perplexed and scared, you suddenly realized that the faster you were running the louder your inner voice was getting, bringing you a sharp headache as if a million needles cut into your brain at once. It hurt really bad.

“Patrick! Patrick, where are you?” You cried out as the darkness was clouding around you with each passing second. “Please, I need you…” A single tear slid down your warm cheek when you felt your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen as though you were drowning. “Pat-Patrick…”

Slowly closing your eyes, you let the void consume you, which actually brought you some relief, because now you were free from pain and sorrow, reveling in the sweet space of non-existence.

A loud gasp bounced against the walls of your small bedroom, signaling of your eventual awakening. Panting, you sat on the bed only to see Bateman’s sleepy form next to you—he was sleeping like a baby, laying on his back and sniffling from time to time. Shocked, you were trying your best to regain your composure and steady your heavy breathing, not even noticing that you were drenched in sweat. 

Quietly, you slipped out from under the covers to find yourself completely naked, so the next thing you did was find something to put on. Subsequently, you rushed inside your small bathroom and saw Bateman’s clothes drying off on the battery—the memories of the recent events flashed across your mind like a slow-motion movie. First, you were taking a bath—which was still full of cold water—then you nearly drowned but Patrick came in time and literally saved you. The next flashbacks made you lean on the sink and hold back your breath—his eager mouth on your cunt, forcing you to lose your mind and cum again and again until you eventually drifted off. 

Jesus Christ.

Embarrassed, you quickly opened the water and washed your face several times until you cooled down a bit. After you regain your composure, you fasten your terry robe and head to the kitchen as you were so starved that you even had a stomach ache. 

New York was already awake, and the sun was high above the horizon, shining so brightly in the windows that you had to close your blinds and thank God it was Sunday and you didn't have to go to the office because your head was spinning due the aftereffect of your sedative pills. Speaking of them—once you saw the jar with pills on the kitchen counter you threw it into the rubbish without any second thought, yet you didn’t want Bateman to know that he had an influence on your decision. When you closed the door to the kitchen, you accidentally slammed it harder than you should have, and it cracked so loudly that it sounded like a bundle of dishes broke at the same time.

"Damn it!" You cursed to yourself, pressing a palm to your face, certain that the noise would wake Bateman up.

Panicking a bit, you retreated to your bedroom and as soon as you stepped in you saw the man of your dreams stretching out and yawning so adorable, that for a moment you just froze in your place, not capable of taking your eyes off from Bateman’s disheveled hair and his broad chest.

With a low growl, Patrick pulled the blanket away and finally noticed you. "Woah, Cupcake, was that you?" The man chuckled, casually flexing his muscles as he looked at the mirror next to the door where you were standing. "I thought something had exploded outside."

Abashed, you quickly adjusted your robe from his piercing gaze. "Sorry, I can be really..."

"Clumsy?" Smiling broadly, Bateman leaned back against the headboard and crossed his arms. 

"Yes, clumsy," you tugged with your fingers, briefly glancing down—damn, he seemed to be the only person who could embarrass you so easily. "Well...do you want anything?"

"Hmmm, let me think," Patrick hummed before he thoughtfully pressed a finger to his plump lips. "I probably have something on my mind," Bateman gave you a mischievous grin when he saw your curious look and smoothed his golden brown hair. "How about a morning blowjob?" Your instant reaction was a mixture of anger and embarrassment, which made the man's face look even more smug. "Relax! I'm joking." 

Of course he wasn't joking—you knew it and couldn't stop yourself from rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest. "I'd pretend I didn't hear that," you said, finally looking away from his sturdy body. "How about breakfast?"

"That sounds really good."

Shocked, you took a moment to think about the possible options you could cook for him since you didn’t really expect him to give you a positive answer. “I can offset you with a scrambled egg and some fresh orange juice.”

With a satisfied grin, the man slowly got up from your modest bed and stretched his muscles again; he was definitely making it on purpose. “Oh, that’s nice,” he almost groaned when he cocked his head to one side then to another. “I can’t say the same about your bed, Cupcake… you should change the mattress if you want to keep walking with a straight back.”

And though Patrick was lamenting, you could say he said it almost affectionately—as if he really cared about you, yet you brushed this conclusion off as fast as your heart was pounding right now when the man got closer to you; his tall, massive frame towered over you like a mountain.

“I also would like to have a shower, if…there’s such an option,” Bateman smirked and briefly traced a finger along your cheek, coaxing you to close your eyes for a second and revel in the soft sensation of his touch. “Did you sleep well?”

A sudden question that fell from his lips like a suffocated gasp, a tender stroke on your shoulder and you were already melting as Patrick knew what he was doing, every touch, every glance of his brown hypnotic eyes was deliberate and smooth, leaving you no chance but to surrender to his demand.

“Yes, I slept like a baby, though I can hardly remember the things that happened before I blacked out,” you lied with an embarrassed smile. “You can have a shower and use whatever soaps and towels you’ll see.” Thee more you talked the more his lips curled, especially when you allowed him to bring you closer into his embrace. “But don’t expect anything extraordinary.”

“I won’t, I promise,”  the man chuckled and playfully pinched your ass. “Sleeping beauty.”

With that, Patrick walked past you, leaving you alone for a moment, giving you a chance to pull yourself together. And when you seemed to relax, a thought of his clothes that had been left in the bathroom popped up in your mind. ‘Oh God, I forgot!’

Nervously, you rushed after Patrick into your bathroom to see that the door was already closed, implying that he was inside and probably naked, though you couldn’t hear the sound of flowing water. Embarrassed, you coughed quietly and knocked several times.

“Yeah?” Bateman’s muffled voice echoed through the door. 

“Patrick, I…” a short pause turned into a breathless gasp. “If you’re not already in the shower, may I come in?”

After a moment, the door in front of you opened and you saw Patrick wrapped in a white towel. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you giggled nervously and sneaked inside the bathroom to quickly grab his clothes. “I just wanted to iron your…suit and stuff, while you’re in the shower…” Quickly, you hovered his garments over your arm and walked past him, hoping he wouldn’t ask any questions, despite his surprised expression. “I’m so sorry for dumping your clothes yesterday.”

With these words, you deftly avoid his grasp as you knew he’d definitely try to make you embarrassed even more. “(Y/n)!”

“Take a shower. I’ll make you breakfast as I promised.” 

This time, the man didn’t try to catch you or follow you, thankfully. So, you could safely make it to your living room where you set an ironing board and put his shirt first to iron. Wrapped in thoughts, you didn’t even notice how carefully you were ironing his clothes, you couldn’t even remember doing the same with your stuff but maybe you were just scared of ruining it since everything he wore was utterly expensive. ‘This suit probably costs like my monthly rent.’ Sighing, you put the shirt aside when you heard the water flowing sound and your mind instantly gave you an image of Patrick’s naked body, enveloped in steam and slightly flush from the heat. ‘Damn, I should stop or I'm gonna ruin something.’ When it was time to iron his tie, you ran your finger along the smooth red fabric, draped in beautiful intricate patterns—you couldn't deny that you had a thing for his ties, for all of them—you smiled to yourself before bringing it to your lips, you could still feel his cologne on it. This tantalizing scent was driving you crazy, it fit him so perfectly as if it was made specially for him, but even if that was true, you wouldn’t be surprised at all, regarding how rich this man was. The moment you finished ironing his pants, you seemed to hear his voice coming from the bathroom. ‘Perfect timing.’

Slightly tensed, you stopped next to the door. “Patrick? Did you call me?” When he didn’t reply, you became even more stirred, so without really caring about seeing him naked, you opened the door and stepped in. “Patrick?” Since your bathroom was much smaller than his, you bumped into his massive frame, squealing in surprise. “Oh God, sorry!”

“Oh, Cupcake,” he wrapped his hands around your shoulders before carefully cupping your face. “I hope you didn’t break your nose against my firm chest?”

Frowning, you gave him a dead glare but he only snickered back. “What happened? Why did you call me?”

“Do you have an extra toothbrush for me? I’ll buy you another one and…”

You stopped him halfway and removed his hands to stroll to the sink and opened the cabinet above it. “Here. There’s also a razor if you need.”

Smirking, Bateman sneaked behind you and pressed his wet body against yours. “Do ya think I need to shave?” He rubbed the mirror from steam to check himself, sliding a hand along his chiseled chin.

“I…I don’t know…I just thought in case you need to, the razor is here.”

“Mhm…” he hummed and before you knew it he nuzzled against your exposed neck, forcing you to gasp and stepped back right into his embrace, just like he planned it. “Does that tickle, Cupcake?” 

‘Dear Lord, please give me the strength to survive this.’

Staying still, you just swallowed hard and let him continue to attack your neck, which he did with precious care before, but now, Patrick also used his mouth and teeth, and that was already too much.

"I think you definitely have some stubble," you laughed, trying to turn it into a joke. But as soon as you tried to walk away, he pulled you back into his strong arms, and that was not funny. "Breakfast Patrick, I have to make breakfast, did you forget?"

"Not really, but I need your help."

"Help?"

The man gave you a devilish smile before lifting you up and sitting you on the bathroom counter, not even giving you a chance to protest. Then Bateman took the shaving cream, checking the brand name skeptically, but then averting his eyes, probably thinking it was better not to know. With deliberate, calculated movements, he applied the cream to his cheekbones, moving up and down his face. The sight was something you never thought you'd find so damn hot that you didn't even make a sound, just watched him carefully prepare to shave.

"Have you ever seen a man shave, darling?" Patrick asked in a cheeky tone, surely noticing the way you were staring at him.

You shook your head. “No,” you shamelessly checked on him, following the little buds of water slipping down his torso. “God, this is such a silly question, don’t you think?”

Instead of answering, Bateman flexed his muscles while watching in the mirror and missing the way you rolled your eyes. “Well, now you finally have a chance.” The man winked at you and grabbed the razor. “You know, I really like your place, it’s pretty clean.”

“You already said that.”

“Oh, did I?”

“Yes,” you crossed your arms and turned away just the moment when the man started to glide the razor against his jawline—you thought the blade would become blunt because his cheekbones were too sharp—his every action was smooth and skillful. “That was the first thing you said when we came in.”

“That only means that it’s really very clean here.”

Huffing, you fixed your robe and cursed to yourself, ‘Why does he always have to be like this?’

Opening the faucet, Patrick cleaned his face after the last stroke of the razor. “Can you check here?” 

Confused, you gave him a questioning gaze when he turned halfway, pointing at the apex of his jaw. Sheepishly, you touched his freshly shaved skin, feeling a slight prickly sensation. “I think it’s still a bit stubbly.” 

“Aha,” Bateman acknowledged and quickly took your hand in his big one, briefly kissing the top of it and giving you the razor. “I told you, I’d need your help, Cupcake.” “How do you even do it yourself?”

“The razors I use are much sharper than this one, honey,” he chuckled but once you placed the razor against his skin he stopped moving. “Just be careful.”

The last phrase struck a chord inside your chest and you even stopped for a moment to take a deep breath before you eventually began to shave the rest of the stubble. All the while, Patrick would glance at you attentively, his hazel irises like hypnotizing spirals, so you forced yourself to stay focused on the razor and the patch of his skin still covered in a shaving cream.

“You have such soft skin,” you mumbled mostly to yourself but you were sure he heard it. “It’s so pleasurable to touch.”

“(Y/n),” he suddenly called out your name in a stern voice. “I think we should talk about yesterday.” “No…”

"Listen to me," he grabbed the hand that held the razor and pushed it to the side. "You should stop taking that sedative."

“It was just an accident.” 

“You could die, Cupcake…”

"I...I know...I owe you for saving me," you finally stated, releasing your hand to finish shaving him. "But let me take care of my life."

“Ouch.”

“Oh my God! Did I hurt you?” You jolted in panic, almost dropping the razor as if you were hit by the electric shot.

“Yes, you did,” Bateman glided a palm along his now perfectly shaved cheeks. “With your words.”

Letting out a sad sigh, you put the razor into the sink next to you and reached for another towel for him as you watched him washing his face. The more you kept silent, the more palpable the tension was getting in the air and after a brief moment of contemplating, you decided that the best option now was just to go to the kitchen and cook.

“Toothbrush is here.” You murmured and got up from the bathroom counter, about to leave but Patrick stopped you. 

First, you glanced down at his grasp around your wrist, then you raised your eyes to meet his walnut ones, now they were absolutely dark and demanding. Inch by inch, the man was getting closer, soon you could feel the fresh scent of your soap on his wet skin as he pressed you along his broad form, one hand rested on the small of your back, while another snaked beneath your robe to outline one of your hard peaks, which were visible through the fabric.

“Pat-Patrick…”

“No more ‘Daddy’ again, huh?” he whispered into your ear, playing with your stray lock. “Do you remember how many times you called me like that last night?”

‘No! I don’t remember, I shouldn’t remember this, I…’

“...your sweet voice sounded so good with all these little dirty pleas, ‘Daddy, don’t stop, mmhm-please!’ Uhhh, that was really something,” Bateman crooned against your neck, forcing you to step back until he trapped you between his massive body and bathroom counter. “Got you.”

There was nothing to say more, once his warm mouth latched on yours, the urge to deny him fading with every second of the kiss, especially when Patrick savagely sucked on your lower lip and drew his tongue across it as if asking for permission to slip inside.

Gasping, you instinctively inclined your head to the side for a moment and the man used it for showering your delicate neck with little peeks which then transformed into wet, red marks. This sweet torture could last forever if you suddenly didn’t press your palm against his naked chest in a determined way.

“We can’t,” you protested when he got down to kiss you again. “You’re engaged, don’t you think it’s so mean to…cheat on your fiance?”

The man couldn’t hold back a scoff. “What does that have to do with anything? You owe me, Cupcake, you owe me a lot.” 

Annoyed, you made an attempt to push him away, but you obviously failed as Patrick was too strong, looming over you like a mountain. “If you mean the last time—I already thanked you and moreover, I didn’t ask you to do it, you know?” You watched his face changing into something more impish, the corners of his lips curled up as if everything was happening according to his plan. “You always decide for me…maybe it’s time to stop?”

Bateman chuckled. “Maybe it’s time to finally open your eyes?”

“Are you…really telling me this?!”

“You owe me a pretty big sum of money,” the man suddenly turned the conversation in another way. “And we had a deal…” Carefully, he trailed his finger along your cheek like an artist admiring his most precious creation. “Do you think I’d be so patient with your bad attitude to me if I were not really into you, hmm?”

The last words made you swallow hard and turned away for a moment, as you were on the verge of tears. Did he really just confirm that there was some kind of affection for you from his side?

“I…I know I owe a lot of money, but believe me, I’ll back them soon,” you removed his arms from your waist but the next second, Patrick placed them on the bathroom counter behind you from both sides, not allowing you to go away. “Please, believe me.”

“I don’t need that fucking money,” Patrick barked and unexpectedly gripped your shoulders, but when he noticed the glowing fear in your eyes, the man loosened his grasp and cupped your face. “I need you. Both your body and soul.”

Closing your eyes, you wanted to sink through the ground. “You want me to do things that you can’t buy with money…” you declared with a chilling coldness in your voice. “Other women are okay with being your toys, but I’m not. Now, let's finish this conversation, it won’t lead to anything.”

A tired sigh broke out from Bateman’s broad chest and for a second he even thought to let you go and turned over the page of the story of two broken souls, who met themselves so suddenly. Maybe now was that exact moment he was waiting so long, the moment to open the cards and confess, even though Patrick could hardly believe it would work.

"You don't seem to be listening to me at all," was all the man could say. "And that's not surprising, since no one really listens to me. Because...uhh...because no one really cares about what really bothers me…" He let you go and stepped back. "And you...I thought you were the only person who...who actually tried to understand me and act naturally."

"Patrick..."

He raised his hand in an eloquent gesture to let him continue. "You probably did it all because of the debt, but...I'll be honest, sometimes I made myself believe that you weren't acting like this just because of the money."

"Is this another manipulation?" You asked bluntly, holding back your tears. "How could I believe you after all the things you did to me? How many times did you treat me like a puppet that you no longer wanted to play with? And not to mention that you turned out to be engaged!" You grabbed your head and leaned against the bathroom counter, massaging your temples. "This is already too much."

The man huffed and cautiously approached you. With a soft, feathery movement, he touched your hands and pulled them away from your strained face. "At least you seem to care that I'm engaged," he said abruptly, moving you closer so that your head was now pressed against his massive chest. "I know it's overwhelming, (y/n). But..." the words suddenly stuck in his throat like a lump. "You're not alone in this." Patrick urged curly, running his large palm along the crown of your head before resting his chin on it, inhaling the scent of your soft hair. 

‘Not alone’, you repeated inside your head and looked up into his brown eyes, which were now so stern and contemplative—you have never seen them like that before. This man, oh God, this man was such a mess, he was making you lose the ground beneath your feet with his sudden confessions, but in the end, actions spoke louder than words, even though you wanted to believe him and sink into the strong feeling you had towards him—you simply couldn’t allow yourself to get lost in him as you would burn out like a match.

All the while you were standing like that, Bateman was hoping you would say something in return, but when you didn’t, he just released you from his embrace without saying a thing. Overwhelmed by emotions, you left the bathroom and let him finish his hygienic routine in private.

A bit later, you didn’t even remember how you cooked a breakfast for both of you, the only thing you did remember was his positive comment that it tasted pretty good. You couldn’t help but smile, though your plate still stood untouched. Patrick noticed that, but didn’t make any comments about that.

“To be honest, I really didn’t expect it to be that nice,” he chuckled and finished his glass of mineral water that he didn’t really like. Quickly checking his Rolex, which he wore right after he took a shower, he added, “I’m afraid it’s time for me to go. Can you please bring me my clothes?”

“Sure.” You raised up and quickly strolled to the iron board where his suit and shirt were waiting to be presented to their owner. “Here, I ironed them for you.”

Bateman froze in shock for a moment. “You…ironed them?”

“Uh, yes, but I did it very carefully, I know everything you wear is utterly expensive,” you gave him his garments and he started to examine every thing with meticulous attention. “I…I thought you wouldn’t like to go outside in rumpled clothes.”

"That's… that's very sweet of you, Cupcake. Really…" he replied, his blush barely noticeable to anyone but you. "Thanks…thanks for everything."

“You’re welcome.” You murmured shyly, crossing your arms over the chest and watching him getting up from the table and walking to your bedroom to dress up.

Moments later, you both were standing in your small hallway, Patrick fixing his tie and coat, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

“How do I look?” He asked nonchalantly, putting on the headphones of his Walkman.

Slightly upset, you leaned against the wall, your eyes gliding up and down his elegant, tall silhouette; the way the dark blue trench coat sat on his broad shoulders made you almost gasp in admiration.

“Perfect as always,” you stepped closer to adjust the collar of his shirt. “You’re like a Vogue cover which came alive.”

Fluttered, Bateman smiled and caught your hand to place a kiss on top of it. “And I always believe your compliments, they are so…sincere or…” he paused and looked into your eyes. “...or I’m just fooling myself.”

His usual chuckling now was less happy and it stirred something inside of you, so when you got up on your toes to kiss his cheek, Patrick took it like another chance to be intimate with you. With unhidden tenderness, the man pulled you into his arms to seal your mouths with a soft but passionate kiss which brought some unexpected relief for both of you.

“You know, I…I really appreciate your courage to be open with me,” you suddenly confessed when he broke the kiss, still holding you close. “It’s just that I need some time to think over things and…my life is such a mess.”

"Oh, you don't have to tell me that," Bateman sneered ironically to himself. "Since I know who made your life so messy," he stopped you from saying anything else by pressing his finger to your lips. Then the man slowly leaned down so that your foreheads now touched in the most intimate way. "Promise me you won't take those pills again."

"And you promise me you won't say things like no one gives a fuck about you," you gripped his arm, rubbing his firm bicep under the soft fabric of his coat. "Because I do give a fuck about you, even though I don't really like it."

"We'll talk about...us. That's the only promise I can make right now."

"Us?"

"You heard what I said," he pinched your nose, just like after the fashion show. "I'll call you today and Cupcake?" He leaned down to whisper in your ear, accidentally brushing his nose against your neck. "You're always on my mind, but I still haven't decided if it's good or not." The way he used your words to tease you brought a broad smile to your face, but the next time, all joy faded as the man stroked your cheek one last time before stepping aside to check himself in the mirror. "Hope to see you soon, darling."

With that he closed the door behind him and as much as you hated saying goodbye, you hated the moments like that, when you couldn’t control yourself as your emotions peaked, causing your knees to buckle and you stopped yourself from falling down only because you managed to lean on the nearby wall. The whole thing about your relationship with Bateman was one big mistake, as you would never find yourself belonging to this world—your meeting was a joke of fate—no less to say. Although you knew it, your heart was like a rebellion who refused to listen, to obey, to accept the truth that there were no chances to turn this situation in a way that would help these relationships to become healthy and normal. ‘Normal, huh? Do yuppies even know such a word?’ Laughing ironically to yourself, you got up and went back into your kitchen to wash the dishes. The sight of Patrick sitting here with a glass of water in his hand was still so fresh in your mind, but now you began to doubt if that really had happened. 

All day later, you couldn’t sleep, you couldn’t eat, waiting for his call but he never did it. It was not surprising after the shit that man had done, but today you were really hoping he would keep his word. But your hopes were broken to pieces again, in the most brutal possible way because you really decided to give it a try and believed him.

When the night came to New York City, you were standing in your living room with a cup of freshly brewed coffee, thinking about what would you do next and trying to think less about what Patrick was doing right now…and even less about with whom he probably could be. ‘...with Courtney or maybe with his fiance, Evelyn?’ You snickered sadly to yourself and finished your drink. Coffee was supposed to help you to keep awake but instead it only made you even more sleepy, so you didn’t even realize how you fell asleep on your little couch while putting down the notes of how today’s day had gone in your diary.

The next moment you were awakened by the sudden doorbell, which caught you off guard and even scared you a bit as you didn’t wait for anyone. Quickly enveloping your robe, you got up and saunted to the door to look at the peephole—you would lie to yourself if you said you weren’t expecting someone specific, but when you saw nothing but flowers, your heart skipped a beat. 

With one swift motion, you opened the door and an unknown guy instantly greeted you with a polite tone. “Good morning, miss (y/n),” he then handed you a big bouquet of red and white roses—it was so heavy you could barely hold it. “Uh, can you please put your sign here?”

Confused, you pressed the flowers to your chest to see the man’s face. “Are you… are you sure it’s for me?”

The courier only smiled and giggled. “Of course, but you can check the address, if you want,” the man showed you the paper with the order details. “We make no mistakes, miss, that’s why our service is the best around New York.”

“I see,” you responded and put your signature on the place he pointed you. “But, can I ask you who sent me this?”

“There’s a card inside if I’m not mistaken,” the courier replied and with that he put the paper inside his bag. “Have a good day, ma'am.”

“Thanks.” 

With that, you closed the door and somehow proceeded into your living room where you put the bouquet on the coffee table and began to look for the vase for it. When you managed to find it, you poured some water and placed the flowers into it, then you remembered the courier’s words about the card and the next second you were already leafing through the flowers. Soon, a small white card caught your attention and when you picked it out, the first thing you noticed was two beautiful letters—P.B. in the end of the text which said: 

“Good morning, my sweet Cupcake, 

I’m sorry I didn’t call you tonight, I was extremely busy and didn’t really have any free time, but I hope this little gift would cheer you up a bit. What do you think about going to a yacht club these weekends? I’m looking forward to hearing from you soon. 

Utterly yours, P.B.” 

Your hands began to shake the moment you finished reading, but you managed to regain your composure. Driven by the unbridled happiness inside your chest, you leaned down to inhale the sweet scent of flowers—God, it felt like a dream. And speaking of dreaming—you were still so sleepy that after you finally calmed down, you decided to come back into the bed and nap a little bit longer. The sheets were still smelling of him, coaxing you to rub your face against the pillows and imagine him being here with you and somehow, you finally realized how deep this man was rooted inside your heart. ‘Utterly yours…’ You kept replaying these words inside your head until you drifted off to another dream, but this time, it was not a nightmare, but a heaven where Patrick was only yours, and you were his only one.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

[naomijoestar]

⋆.ೃ JJBA SCENARIOS ࿔*:･

Masterlist here <3

genre: comedy, fluff

warnings: none

characters: jonathan, joseph, jotaro, josuke, giorno, jolyne

notes: GN!reader // i tried making this funny and lighthearted, so i hope i succeeded :)

You were infront of your mirror, wearing JoJo’s clothes and posing dramatically, until they walked in on you!

Jonathan Joestar

You’re striking the most elegant pose, Jonathan’s fancy coat draped over your shoulders, trying to look as noble as possible. Jonathan bursts through the door dramatically, as if walking in on a duel. His eyes widen in surprise.

“Good heavens!” he gasps, covering his heart like he’s been hit by an arrow of fashion.

He dramatically kneels down, bowing as if in the presence of royalty.

“You wear my clothes better than I ever could! You are… the true Joestar!”

He’s so sincere that it’s almost ridiculous. You try not to laugh as he swears loyalty to you, as if you’ve just become the Joestar heir.

Joseph Joestar

You’re in Joseph’s hat and scarf, throwing dramatic poses like an action hero in front of the mirror. Joseph slams the door open, doing his classic point.

“OH NO! YOU DIDN’T!”

He rushes over, gasping theatrically.

“You’ve stolen my STYLE!”

He grabs the nearest object (probably something completely random, like a broom), and starts mimicking your poses, going all-in with the ridiculousness.

“We’ll settle this with a pose-off! Loser buys dinner!”

You end up in a goofy battle of increasingly absurd poses, while Joseph cheers like you’re in a fashion show.

Jotaro Kujo

You’re mid-serious JoJo pose in Jotaro’s long coat and hat, looking tough as nails in the mirror. Jotaro silently walks in, spots you in full pose, and just freezes. For a solid five seconds, he says nothing, deadpan expression intact. Then, he lets out a long, exasperated sigh.

“Yare yare daze…”

But just when you think you’re about to get scolded, he pulls his hat down, hiding his eyes, and starts walking away.

“You’re not pulling it off. Lemme show you how it’s done.”

He comes back, slides in next to you, and strikes a way cooler pose without breaking a sweat. He stares at your reflection for a beat before muttering,

“It’s about attitude.”

It’s so unexpectedly cool you just gape at him, and he leaves like nothing happened.

Josuke Higashikata

You’re posing in Josuke’s iconic pompadour jacket, spinning in front of the mirror like you’re a rock star. Josuke barges in, his eyes immediately zeroing in on his jacket.

“NOOO! What are you doing in my precious jacket?!”

He’s torn between laughing and panicking, hands flailing.

“That’s, like, designer, dude!”

He rushes over, pulling at the jacket gently as if it’s fragile. Then he notices how cool you look mid-pose and suddenly freezes.

“Wait a sec… actually, you kinda look—”

But before he can finish the compliment, his eyes shoot wide open, and he throws a dramatic arm in front of you.

“No way, it’s still MY look! Get your own style, punk!”

You both end up laughing as he mock-fights you for his jacket back.

Giorno Giovanna

You’re dramatically posing in Giorno’s sleek suit, gazing at yourself like you’re the protagonist of a fashion magazine. Giorno walks in with his usual composed demeanor but stops mid-step when he sees you, his hair glowing like a halo.

Without saying a word, he pulls a golden rose from… somewhere (seriously tho where does he get those), and gracefully walks over, placing it in your hand.

“You… are perfection.” he declares with a flourish, like he’s coronating you as the new king of fashion.

Then, as if possessed by the spirit of the most fabulous model ever, Giorno joins you in posing—no words, just intense eye contact and synchronized majestic poses. The two of you end up striking so many fabulous poses together that the room practically sparkles.

“We are unstoppable.”

Jolyne Cujoh

You’re mid-action pose in Jolyne’s signature string-covered tank top, trying to channel all of her badassery. Jolyne kicks open the door like she’s about to fight a Stand, then just stops dead in her tracks when she sees you.

Her face scrunches up, trying to figure out if she should laugh or yell.

“What… the hell are you doing?!” she finally blurts, trying not to crack up.

You sheepishly explain, still frozen mid-pose, and she bursts out laughing, practically falling to the floor.

“You look ridiculous!” she says, wiping a tear from her eye. But then, as if flipping a switch, she goes full dramatic mode.

“Alright, if you’re gonna wear my stuff, you better work it.”

She jumps in front of the mirror next to you, both of you trying out increasingly ridiculous and over-the-top poses like you’re at a photoshoot. You’re both laughing too hard by the end to even finish.

[ruthlessrps]

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐍𝐄𝐘'𝐒 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 (𝟏𝟗𝟗𝟕) 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒. - feel free to make any adjustments as necessary!

"what is the measure of a true hero?"

"will you listen to him?"

"lighten up, dude."

"i'll take it from here, darling."

"it was a nasty place."

"behave yourself."

"look how cute he is."

"he's strong. like his dad."

"keep those away from the baby."

"let the kid have a little fun."

"is this an audience or a mosaic?"

"there's the little sunspot."

"i regrettably have a full time gig."

"you'll work yourself to death."

"i know you know."

"did you cut your hair or something? you look fabulous."

"my fate is in your lovely hands."

"okay, fine, fine. i'm cool, i'm fine."

"how do you kill a god?"

"perhaps they've answered our prayers."

"that boy is a menace."

"he's too dangerous to be around normal people."

"he didn't mean any harm. he's just a kid."

"i'm warning you. keep that freak away from here."

"you shouldn't let those things they said back there get to you."

"i try to fit in, i just can't."

"i feel like i really don't belong here."

"i have often dreamed of a far-off place."

"this is where i'm meant to be."

"i know every mile will be worth my while."

"i would go almost anywhere to feel like i belong."

"it's the symbol of the gods."

"you're old enough now to know the truth."

"how do you become a true hero?"

"i will please the gods."

"you sure this is the right place?"

"haven't you ever had a dream?"

"come inside. i want to show you something."

"every single one of those bums let me down."

"dreams are for rookies."

"i'm different from those other guys."

"i'm too old to get mixed up in this stuff again."

"i'm down to one last hope."

"you're not exactly a dream come true."

"you'll have to do."

"now that's more like it!"

"you want a road test? saddle up, kid."

"not so fast, sweetheart."

"i'm a damsel, i'm in distress, i can handle this."

"what are you doing? get your sword."

"a hero's only as good as his weapon."

"is wonderboy here for real?"

"at least i beat him, didn't i?"

"did they give you a name along with all those rippling pectorals?"

"are you always this articulate?"

"who are you calling a rodent?"

"he comes on with his innocent farm boy routine, but i can see through that in a new york minute."

"people here are nuts because they live in a city of turmoil."

"it seems to me that what you folks need is a hero."

"i have this terrible fear of heights."

"try to be a little bit more careful next time."

"i don't think we covered this one in basic training."

"you gotta admit - that was pretty heroic."

"he was so hot steam looked cool."

"everybody's got a weakness."

"there is nothing you can't do."

"it's great to see you. i missed you."

"you sound like you could use a break."

"i didn't know playing hooky could be so much fun."

"wonderboy, you are perfect."

"when i was a kid i would've given anything to be exactly like everybody else."

"you're the most amazing person i've ever met."

"when i'm with you i don't feel so alone."

"i would never ever hurt you."

"let's both do ourselves a favour and stop this."

"that's it. next time, i drive."

"no man is worth the aggravation."

"get yourself another girl. i'm through."

"i can't believe you're getting so worked up about some guy."

"people are gonna get hurt, aren't they?"

"now you know how it feels to be just like everyone else."

"i know what i did was wrong, but this isn't about me."

"if you don't help him now, he'll die."

"people always do crazy things when they're in love."

[crazycat010]

Watch where you're going idiot!

Hi! This is one of my first times posting and English is not my first language, but I hope you like it!

bakugou katsuki x fem!reader

IN WHICH: an unfortunate series of events leads to you befriending the infamous Bakugou Katsuki.

fluff, a teensy bit of angst, comical reader (could also be seen as Gender Neutral reader though there's talk about longish hair and only one reference to breasts)

word count: 1,993 words

To say you were mad was an understatement. Oh no, you were absolutely, utterly furious, and you were this close 🤏to showing your best friend, or what you at least thought Ibara Shiozaki was until this precise morning, what your quirk was capable of.

It was a seemingly normal Tuesday; as usual, you woke up five minutes before your alarm was supposed to go off, went on a morning run around campus and took a shower.

A gentle breeze had eased you through the half an hour run, putting your mind at ease and helping you relax even more than your routine usually did.

Coming back to your shared dorm, you had noticed something was off upon realizing your roommate and best friend Ibara was already up and going, dressing herself while suspiciously turning her back on you, when you always had to wake her up at last so you both could show up to class in time after the ordinary rush to whichever classroom you had been assigned to.

Shrugging it off, you quickly got undressed and into the small shower of your shared bathroom. Oblivious to your roommates prank, you didn’t realize, as you poured your shampoo in your left hand’s palm with your eyes closed, while humming along to a song that had particularly been stuck in your head, that said product’s color had drastically changed from a milky white to a deep fucsia.

It had been a total shocker to you, when, upon getting out of the shower and in front of the big rectangular mirror that stood inches above the sink, you saw your pitch black mid-back length straight hair, turned to a ridiculous pink color.

It’s not that you didn’t like pink, but nor did you love it, and it wasn’t in your Today’s Plans to get your fabulous healthy hair such a radical change in appearance.

With fiery eyes and filled with rage at inhuman levels, you dried your hair, realizing the tint wasn’t made to be washed out easily, and then put on your clean training suit, for today’s lesson was going to be the first one in which your class, 1st B, would have encountered the other section of heroes, 1st A and it mostly would’ve consisted in getting to know the others and only a couple of tests.

Right after locking your dorm, not fancying another prank from your classmates, you sped up the halls directed to the cafeteria, knowing exactly who the culprit was.

There started to be more and more students wandering off in the corridors. Nonetheless, all of those who even dared to look at you, backed away, terrorized and utterly terrified by your gaze and fuming state.

However, there was one of them who wouldn’t get easily scared, determined to put you back in place, yelling a: “Hey, watch where you’re going, idiot!” After you had so not-gracefully bumped into him and muttered through gritted teeth an unapologetic sorry, maintaining your pace the same as how you’d left the dorm.

Caught in your steps, you stopped moving, almost as a marble statue. Slowly, you turned your head to face the student who had also fixed his harsh gaze.

As you locked eyes, tension settled in the corridor and students started to watch cautiously but curiously your interaction, like you were two predators about to engage in a fight to earn a prey.

Your unmoving and irritated gaze met his with matching intensity and indignation, and for what felt minutes, you just stood there, analyzing each other and waiting for the other to make the first move.

You didn’t recognize him, but you were sure you had already seen him, perhaps in the halls.

He had spiked white hair and dark crimson eyes that you somehow felt you couldn’t glance away from. He was wearing the same suit as you, so he must’ve been one of the many hotheads from class 1A. Underneath the white and blue suit, you could easily take a look at his perfectly sculpted muscles.He didn’t exactly look like the kind of person you can forget ever meeting with.

Each word filled with rage and pausing after each of them, carefully evaluating what to say, you said: “What did you just say?”

Taking his time, he venomously spat back: “I said, watch where you’re going, idiot.”

You both stared at each other for what felt like ages, but were interrupted by a redhead with thin eyebrows and sharp features, much like the blondie, who chirped happily, unfazed by the tension between you two: “Hey Bakubro. Finally I found you! C’mon, we gotta make it to class in time for the morning assembly before meeting the kids from class 1B!”

Dragging him by the arm, the redhead got the blondie out of the sticky situation, tagging along those who I thought were the rest of they’re classmates.

Inside the cafeteria, the daily chaos made it hard for you to search your prankster, so you decided to grab one of the many pastries and head to your classroom, as you were already running late for your assembly.

In the classroom, you found all your classmates already seated while your homeroom teacher, Sekijiro Kan, was going through today’s events.

Apologising for being late, you headed to your usual seat in the back of the classroom. Thankfully, your friends had noticed not only your change in appearance, but also your switch of demeanor, and didn’t dare point  each of them out, scared for their own lives.

After Sekijiro finished listing what you were going to do and resorting to maintain an appropriate behavior, you all lined up and went outside to the track field, where the other class had already arrived.

While walking, you made sure to keep an eye on Ibara and eventually caught up with her. Feeling your presence, she offered a sly smile, readying herself for a scolding with the capital S.

“What the hell did you think you were doing!” You hissed at her.

“Geez, sorry! Calm down, I didn’t think you’d take it that bad.” She said in response.

“Didn’t think I’d take it THAT bad! Are you out of your freaking mind? You knew we had the meet up with class 1A today!” You spat back, gaining unwanted attention from those around you.

“I repeat, we are to maintain an adequate behavior and not make ourselves known in a negative way, am I right, miss Y/LN?” Scolded you your professor.

“I apologize  professor. I won’t be caught off guard again.” You pronounced in an assertive term.

“And miss Shiozaki?” Added the professor.

“Y-Yeah same.” Ibara was quick to tag along, facing the floor in a desperate attempt not to laugh at her devilish making.

Finally, you reached the other class and soon the professors started by introducing themselves. However, it was mostly your professor Sekijiro Kan who did the talking while Shota Aizawa kept nodding absent-mindedly.

After going through the day’s activities (again?! C’mon man, it was like the third time this morning, even the walls had understood what we were going to do!), the professors guided you through the training fields, making mixed teams of four that were going to compete against each other in the tests.

You were teamed up with your classmate Neito Monoma (thanks to Ibara’s luck you two hadn’t been teamed up together and you wouldn’t get the chance to strangle her once the professors were far away enough) and two guys from class 1B named Minoru Mineta and Denki kaminari.

You were actually happy to be with Monoma, other than being pretty handsome, he was one of the most intelligent and kind souls you had ever met and you often hung out with him whenever you weren’t with your usual group, consisting of Ibara Shiozaki also known as Vine, Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu AKA Real Steel and Juno Honenuki AKA Mudman.

Even though he could be rather mocking, loud, and sarcastic with Class 1-A and provocative in battle, he was also able to keep calm at difficult times. All in all, he was one of your most reliable classmates and his Copy Quirk had turned out to be very useful in battle.

Although you were kinda sad you hadn’t ended up with another girl, this Denki, who had an electricity based Quirk as he had told you, seemed a pretty chill and easygoing dude.

Now the major problem was the other guy, Mineta. He was tiny, resembling a kid, but boy was he a perv! Like, goodness gracious, ever since you all had teamed up together he hadn’t stopped staring at your breasts making you feel rather annoyed and repulsed and getting on your nerves.

While your team decided which strategies you were going to use, you found yourself staring at a certain blondie. Having calmed down, you were starting to feel sorry for how you’d reacted that morning (nonetheless, he was still kind of an asshole. I mean, he’s the one who started it after all!) and morally obliged to apologize.

You had obviously kept concentrated throughout all the events, yet in the back of your mind a small voice kept remembering you you needed to apologize to a certain someone. So after you had completed the morning program and were headed to the cafeteria to have lunch (together?! 1st A and 1st B together, eating in peace?! Were your professors out of their flipping minds?!), you looked around and then quite literally ran after the blondie to catch up with him.

Seeing as he wasn’t talking to anybody in particular and had basically isolated himself from the rest of the group, you took that as a sign and started straight up talking to him before he could’ve even noticed your presence (to be honest, you were a small bit afraid he wouldn’t have wanted to listen to you and would’ve just gotten away without giving you the possibility or redeeming yourself).

“Heyy, soooo…I think we started off on the wrong foot…Name’s Y/N” You said, sticking out your hand to him as he turned to face you, his face blank and emotionless as ever.

He scoffed, unmoved by your apology yet not able to take his eyes off your figure, curious of the vibrant pink tint that marked your hair in a not-elegant but still attractive way.

“C’mon man, I’m trying to be nice!” You whined, dropping your shoulders in an overly dramatical and childish way, trying to get him to break character.

As he took another glance at you, you noticed how his frown had turned in an attempt to hide the growing smile that you were firm would adorn his masculine features in a sexily adorable way.

“Ha, I knew I’d be able to get a smile out of you, mister Grumpy” You said in a mocking but light-hearted way, throwing your arm over his shoulder while trying to lock eyes with him. He tried in vain to hide himself from you, unable to hide the smile that spread on his cheeks and scoffing in a friendly manner, playfully shoving you, to which you dramatically fell onto the ground, speaking with a hoarse tone to imitate those overly dramatical scenes from the movies Ibara made you watch over and over. “Tell m-my parents…” You gasped dramatically, pausing in between sentence: “T-Tell them I l-loved them” Closing your eyes and sticking out your tongue in a laughable attempt to play dead.

Soon enough, he sticked his hand out for you to grab, pulling you up with a fairly decent amount of strength and then sticking his hand out to actually shake yours for once.

“Name’s Bakugo, weirdo.” He said, locking yet again eyes with yours with a smirk on his face.

Oh how you knew it was going to be the start of a wonderful friendship…or maybe even more?…

Thank you for reading. I hope you liked it. You're welcome to come check out my account and my other posts and/or make requests :) (MASTERLIST) Do NOT plagiarize this or any of my content.

Do you think I should make a part 2?

Love you guys! See you soon!😘

Written by crazycat010 © 2025 crazycat010

[dreamwritersworld]

The gun (sully family x reader)

two siblings interviewed and born as twins was the beginning of Neteyam and Y/n’s biggest downfall…never given a chance to both be successful.

Jake Sully was always a soldier first and it would inevitably be the first wound he served to his kids. Neteyam and Y/n never had moment where they both could succeed at the same time. They fought amongst each other each second they spent in training.

Oh yes, oh yes,

Neteyam had the strength and ability to lose himself in everything he was asked..

Y/n had the poise and put a impactful meaning into every task she was given..

Oh, yes, they both,

They were both given harsh training that progressively got worse as they aged.

In the eyes of Neteyam, Y/n was Jake’s perfect little angel. “The black swan” as he called her, none of them understood it but Jake definitely did. Y/n was able to be fierce on field and smile kindly even if you had just lost against her, graceful.

Neteyam refused to acknowledge the level of difficulty Y/n went against. Y/n viewed Neteyam as “the perfect soldier”, he was an exact replica of Jake’s techniques and professionalism. Jake saw Neteyam as though he was the most powerful, beautiful gold amongst a treasured island.

Oh yes, they both..

They both couldn’t see it. They couldn’t see that they were striving for perfection in their father’s eyes. They had yet to pull the trigger on each other.

Oh, yes, they both reached for..

The approval of their father weighed heavily on their heart. Such a horrible baggage they never knew how to deal with…

Jake refused to acknowledge the pain and ache they’d endure after training. The pair walking home in tiredness that is waiting to be fulfilled as soon as they pass out in their beds.

It was a cruel joke considering what they had to endure.

The gun, the gun..

They walked in a quick panicked silence to go to their grandmother to be healed from all the marks and tension in their body.

The gun, the gun

Neteyam usually had grand scraps and cut on his finger from archery while Y/n had cuts all over her feet from the tricks and stunts she’d pull to navigate quietly through the woods like Jake wanted her to.

Oh yes,

The next morning would be the grand competition between all young soldiers who have become elites in their division that only happened every two years. In all reality the top soldier would always come down to Neteyam or Y/n. It’s exactly what had the people come down to the most challenging parts of the forest. Everyone knew they’d win it just always down to who. The competition had everyone at the end of the branches they watched from, nerves of adrenaline can be felt seeping through the athletes and spreading amongst the crowd.

They both reached for the gun. For the gun.

The pair always had new tricks to show off and skills that have been newly mastered. It was truly beautiful. Unfortunately for Y/n, Neteyam had won the last two event, everyone had their eyes on her as the date of today came closer. However the words of Jake’s praise couldn’t have been an even bigger flame to the fire as he spoke to fellow navi’s about the two…

Oh yes, oh yes..

“Neteyam is fantastic and always finishes strong! This will all come down to who will be the best and I can assure you Neteyam has been training immensely.”

Oh yes, they both..

“And Y/n?”

Oh yes, they both..

“She’s fabulous but dangerous. She has a power to become an animal. I always call her my black swan, perfect and elegant.”

Oh yes they both reached for ..

Jake thrived off the fear from his eldest children, they were so nervous he could see their confidence fighting to stay grand.

The gun, the gun..

Just a few moments before the race started he had his own moments with his children…

Neytiri had placed a flower crown made by Tuk on Y/n’s hair in which she promised to wear. She seemed to be holding in just fine until Jake approached her…

The gun, the gun..

“Im not too sure you’ll beat Neteyam this year Y/n. You’re nervous I can see it all over your face.”

The gun, the gun..

“I can beat him..” she spoke like a timid little girl, afraid of her father’s truth.

The gun, the gun..

“Really? In the past four years, I see you obsessed getting each and every move perfectly right but I never see you lose yourself. All that discipline for what?”

The gun, the gun..

“..I just want to be perfect…”

“You what?”

“I want to be perfect.”

The gun, the gun..

“The only person standing in your way is you. It’s time to let her go, be the black swan I know you can be..lose yourself.”

The gun, the gun

He had whispered his statement in hushed words, only for Y/n’s ears to hear. Her heart stopped and began beating at 100 once again, she nervously smiled.

The gun, the gun..

Then it was time for Neteyam..

Both reached for the gun..

“Y/n is a perfectionist you know that Neteyam. You must move quicker and faster than she does. She floats like a feather through the branches and animals but you stay a few steps ahead because you’ll get her nervous more than you can imagine. She’ll falter and that’s how you’ll stay the best in the clan! Cmon be the best soldier”

The gun, the gun..

It was sickening. Jake knew how to make a grand show between the two. It even caused a scene before the race even started. Neteyam wanted to take it a step further..he knew exactly how his sister worked. She was too sweet and never allowed herself to get aggressive with anyone…or so he thought

“You’ll fumble halfway in and get nervous Y/n you know you will.”

“Stop. Please stop.”

“How about I actually live up to your name and act like the ‘black swan’ for you.”

The gun, the gun..

The nerves had become too much to handle. Y/n got upset at the idea of him winning again and gaining the appraisal of their father before her. She hated how he jokes about her nickname that only he calls her.

“It’s my turn! I’ll win and you’ll be the one who’ll never leave the corps!”

The gun, the gun..

Neteyam’s eyes grew wide as Y/n pushed him away from her.

“All Navi’s competing must get in place now!”

Some Navi’s had so much confidence from the two years they prepped for the race rather it be third or beating the two siblings who held the reign of being the best. Unbeknownst to the crowd the two best had false confidence when it came to going against each other.

The gun, the gun..

Right before the scratch of an ikran was heard Neteyam and Y/n looked to each other with fear and determination. There they ran and leaped through the sky as though the branches they jumped off were clouds. The crowds eyes were on the pair of siblings who were constantly challenging each other with tricks amongst the track. It all would come down to who moved the quickest with the most difficulty. The yelling was tuned out for the siblings. The twins were speaking to each other in a language none of the people could understand, it was…psychologically beautiful.

The gun, the gun..

Fire burnt in their lungs with each breath they took for another reach of oxygen..

Their calves felt like rocks fallen from a mountain as they grew tired and stretched..

Towards the very end…Y/n won.

The gun, the gun..

She hadn’t even realized she was bleeding heavily from her hip…it was pure adrenaline that was keeping her running and graceful.

The gun, the gun..

The crowd picked her up and cheered her on until Jake had urged them to put her down…he had noticed the gash from the beginning. He wasn’t running on adrenaline like everyone else was. This type of competition was something he was used to seeing..since he always put the two against each other.

“Put her down! What did you do Y/n? You’re hurt!”

“Huh..”

There she touched her blood, gasping in an almost comical way..

“I felt it dad..”

“What?”

The gun, the gun..

“I was perfect…”

She had fainted from the exhaustion from all the training the night before. Truth was the only reason why Y/n wasn’t able to stay calm against Neteyam’s remarks was because she was absolutely irritable from the few hours of sleep and aching body she was pushing through.

“Y/n…wake up child.”

The flutter of her eyelashes reviled Moat, thanking eywa for the couple hours of sleep she gave Y/n’s body to return to normal.

“Grandmother thank you-“

“You need to take care of yourself more-“

“Y/n! Oh thank Eywa!”

Jake rushed through the tent hugging his daughter tighter than ever..finally it was her turn. He’d praise her and love on her once again.

“I won dad..”

“I know..you were great! My beautiful black swan!”

Both reached for the gun

Y/n won while for the first time in two years Neteyam watched.

!💕!

Definitely not sure if there ar even still avatar fans alive anymore but this story will be ready waiting for you when you’ve come back!! I loved the way this edit sound went viral and the way the beat has you on the edge of the seat!!!

[ironarrow87]

Won’t You Smile Just For Me?

Summary: You're having a bad few days. Your friend offers you a ticket to see the infamous radio host live. Can he help lighten your mood?

Warnings: Mentions of blood, implied death

Notes: Currently obsessed with Daisies by Black Gryph0n. Decided to make a a story out of it and shove dear lovely reader into it!

As always, please do not copy or post my work elsewhere.

You actually had no desire to be here. You’d rather be home, in bed, shutting out the world. It was your miserable attitude for the last few days that brought you here, in this audience, for a live show you had little interest in. Your friend had offered you their ticket, pushed it on you even.

“You’ll have a great time!”

“I don’t even know who that is!”

“You’ve never heard of him? Are you kidding? His radio show is so popular right now!”

“I dunno…I’d rather stay home. Didn’t you want to go?”

“You’ve been home for days! I’m worried about you. Please go. You’ll have a great time, I swear. Promise me you’ll go?”

“…okay. I promise.”

So, here you sat, alone in a crowd full of people. Your legs bounced with anxiety as everyone murmured in hushed excitement around you. Hunching your shoulders in an effort to get as small as possible, you hid your face in a cup of tea the staff had served moments before.

As you took a sip of the much needed warmth, you hear the crowd around you buzz with excitement as a man with brown hair and eyes, tanned skin, and a charming grin stretched across his face walks onto the stage. You lower your mug as you listen to him address the audience.

"Well, well, well, my dearest audience! A very good afternoon to all of you lovely souls! I must say, it is a delight, a true pleasure, to have such a fabulous crowd gathered here today—oh, the excitement! I can hardly contain myself!"

He bows and then spreads his arms wide when he stands back up. “Now, now, settle down! Allow me to introduce myself to those who do not know me. Although not knowing who I am by now is quite the feat, haha!”

You swear his eyes zero in on you, and your face burns with embarrassment. You try to hide your face behind your teacup again.

“My name is Alastor, and the majority of you know me from my radio broadcast.” He gives a little bow again, eyes flitting across the room before landing on you again. As if he knew you didn’t know of him. Not really. He broadens his grin to the crowd, twirling the microphone staff in his hands with the familiarity of someone who has done this hundreds of times.

“Now then, on with the show!

-

It was easy to see why people adored this man. Adorned in a tight fitted red satin vest and dark slacks, he easily captured the audience with songs and stories told in a velvety smooth voice. The charisma that radiated off of him had the audience hanging off his every word and tune.

Though you didn’t want to come in the first place, you found yourself dreading the end of this live in-person show. The very idea brought tears to your eyes as you thought of the empty lonely apartment that awaited you when it was over. To your horror, some tears raced down your cheeks, and you rush to rub them away from your cheeks in the middle of this public setting.

"This show, my friends, was about more than just entertainment! It's about the unforgettable moments that we created. The laughter, the drama, the wonder! The heart-pounding thrills that leave you questioning everything you thought you knew about good old-fashioned fun!"

Alastor’s energy was infectious, and you could feel the people around you just about squirming in their seats as the show drew to a close. “"Ahhh, my wonderful audience, how quickly the time slips away, doesn’t it? You know what they say, time flies when you’re having fun, haha!” He pauses briefly to allow the audience to laugh along with him. “The afternoon was filled with such delightful moments, such charming chaos, and yet—all good things must come to an end, I’m afraid. I do hope you’ll carry the memory with you—like a sweet little song you can’t quite shake, hm?" The crowd matches his suggestive grin as Alastor set the stage for his final piece for the afternoon.

You swallow thickly as his piercing eyes landed on you yet again. He gives you a little wink before starting in on his verse. “Hey pal, hey friend, hey buddy, why so sad, so downright unhappy?” Your heart stills in your chest at the words. He couldn’t be talking about you directly, could he? You follow his movements as he steps off the stage and into the crowd. The radio host moves closer to you, bending at the waist to sing inches from your face. “That's not my cup of tea.” Alastor’s grin widens as you flush. Straightening up, Alastor continues moving through the crowd.

“You know that this could be your last day here on Earth, so buddy please.” He turns, charming smile gracing his features. His eyes land on you once again, and he winks. “Won't you smile just for me?”

-

You really aren’t sure why you stayed long after everyone had filtered out. You tell yourself that its because the performance has you energized, that Alastor changed your outlook on the future, but honestly, its because you’re afraid to go home. Back to the sadness that seeps into your bones and makes you want to hide away all day.

You sigh, gathering your things and finally ready to trudge home when a voice stops you.

“My, my, still here after my show has long finished? I must have left quite the impression.”

Your startled gaze meets Alastor’s. You meant to be polite to this infamous radio host, but instead you blurt out, “What are you doing here?” Thankfully, Alastor laughs receptively to your question.

“I suppose that’s a fair question. I left something behind, and I didn’t want to worry my staff about collecting it so late after work hours. It was my own mistake, after all, silly me.”

You nod dumbly, unsure how to detangle yourself from this interaction. You clearly spend too long figuring this out because Alastor is already asking you another question.

“Is something troubling you, my dear?” The words are so unexpected, so jarring in this moment, that you felt tears spring to your eyes. You desperately scramble to hide your vulnerability.

“Ah...yeah. Why do you ask?”

Alastor tuts lightly, adjusting his bowtie briefly. “Come now, I’m very good at reading people, my dear. I can tell something is bothering you.”

His insistence in focusing on your distress causes a few tears to fall. You curse yourself for being so weak, for falling apart so quickly at a stranger’s concern as you hurriedly scrub the tears away.

To your surprise, his arms wrap around you and pull you close into his chest, as if he was sheltering you from the world from any danger. His warm embrace smelled of bergamot, leather, amber…and something you just couldn’t quite place. Something…earthy? Or maybe metallic? You’re pulled out of your thoughts as Alastor resumes speaking.

“My dear, my dear, no, you don't have to cry. That ain't a pretty legacy to leave behind.” You give him a watery smile as you recognize the lyrics from his earlier song.

“S-sorry,” you breathe out, stepping away from his hold. He waves you off.

“Nonsense, my dear, we all get out of sorts from time to time.” You nod in agreement, quick to end this social hell you’ve put yourself into. This man, so charming and kind, was trying to cheer you up, but here you were mute and near tears. Ridiculous.

Alastor lifts your chin suddenly, warm brown eyes behind wire bespectacles looking into yours. “You may not have to tell me about what’s running through your mind, dear, but perhaps I could offer you some sort of reprieve for a few moments? Let me show you the entertainment, the pleasures the world has to offer, hm?”

He offers his arm to you, and you hesitate just for a moment. The grin on his face is so kind, so eager to please, that you take the offer. “Excellent! Now, one more thing before we head off into our adventure together.”

“What’s that?”

He looks down at you, his height easily making you feel small before him. “Won’t you smile just for me?”

You give a tiny laugh. And you smile.

-

You just about forget all the things that have been worrying, stressing, and tugging you down into the depths of despair for the last few days. At least — for a little while. It was no wonder Alastor’s show was so popular. He had a way with showing you the magic in everything.

He walks you through parks and gardens, pointing out the beauty and weaving stories for you as you went. You barely pay attention to where you’re heading, and to be honest, you’re not sure you care right now. He made you feel safe, alive even. Like all the sadness had melted from your body.

"You know I just gotta say, that you might not have a lot of time to waste," he teased, pinching your cheek suddenly. "So lose that long face."

You bat at his hand, laughing, only to find a bright red rose in your face that Alastor had plucked straight from a bush. "Stop and smell the roses while you've got the time." He grins as you inhaled the lovely floral scent he offered you. "Pretty soon you'll be pushing up daisies where the sun don't shine."

You blink, startled by his words, but eventually laugh as you take it to be more teasing from the radio host. Or at the very least, some wisdom he's trying to impart on you about life.

Alastor laughs with you as he guides you onto a forest path.

-

You have no idea how long you have been walking. It feels like forever, and somehow, like no time at all. Alastor did a great job entertaining you through your entire journey, hands animatedly moving as he recounted stories of his life through the entertainment industry. You hang onto his every word, desperate for a distraction from your own life. Besides, how lucky were you to be spending time with such a celebrity? You'd have to thank your friend for the ticket they forced on you.

Deeper and deeper into the woods, you start to really enjoy the woodsy smells, the sounds of little animals and birds flitting about, and the rustle and crunch of leaves as you you both made your way through. You had long run out of the typical paths, exploring uncharted territory together.

"Oh ho! What's this?" You follow Alastor's gaze to a little wooden shack just ahead. You shift uneasily beside him, the sun setting causing shadows to cast an eerie air around the small hut.

"Ah...I dunno if we should head over there. What if some lunatic lives there?"

Alastor laughs loudly beside you, making you jump a little. "My dear! Where's your sense of adventure? Let's just take a little peek!" He looks to you, eyes searching, hopeful, but ultimately leaving the decision up to you. You felt your fear slip away at his expression, nodding your assent. He grins at you. "Fabulous, dear!"

He leads you up to the door, and you felt a sense of unease as the door easily swung inward with a gentle push from Alastor's hand. Still, trying to be brave and prove yourself worthy of the radio host's time, you follow suit with a big grin on your face.

It died just as quickly as it came about.

On the walls of the little hut were rows and rows of fixed smiles upon placards. Little name tags adorned the jawbones and teeth. Vox. Valentino. Husker. Anthony. So many names that made your head spin.

"W-what..." You choke on your words, bile rising in your throat. What the hell did you both stumble upon? "Alastor...let's get out of here!" The panic was evident in your voice as you turn to look at your new friend.

Your new friend who had his back to you, hands moving as he cleaned something.

Your new friend who turned, brandishing a newly cleaned axe, tossing a red stained towel to the ground.

Your new friend whose glasses glinted with the last of the light from the setting sun.

"Alastor?" you ask, voice strained, small, and full of fear.

He grins.

"Run."

-

Your lungs burn as your race your way through the trees, blinking back panicked tears. Only now you recognized all the warning signs you blissfully ignored in favor of temporary relief. The narrowing of his gaze during his performance. Tracking you through each set. Marking his target, who was obviously attending his show alone. Conveniently coming back when you were by yourself. The sharpness of his grin when you agreed to come along with him. The smell of blood on him. Or was it metal blades? Maybe the forest earth? Maybe it was all of them.

You had been so foolish.

You pant behind a tree as you try to force oxygen into your lungs, listening for your hunter. That's what he was after all, wasn't he? And you?

His prey.

You hear branches snap in the distance. Then some whistling. Humming even.

"None of us are here to stay, so treat every day like it's a holiday. Until the day you slip away." To your horror, you realize he's singing more of his song. He's taunting you. Telling you how he's had this planned since the beginning.

You start running again.

-

"Tsk, my dear, my dear, no, you don't have to cry."

You stare up at Alastor, frozen in fear, knees stinging from where you hit the ground. Your back was pressed up against a rock wall. Trapped.

"P-please. Don't hurt me." You swear you see his canines lengthen in his toothy grin as he advances toward you. He continues as if you weren't begging for your life before him.

"That ain't a pretty legacy to leave behind."

Your heart is beating erratically. It may give out before he even has a chance to hurt you. If you were so lucky.

But you both knew you weren't.

It was as if time slowed as you watched Alastor, the infamous celebrity, the radio host, the adored entertainer, raise the axe above his head. And for a brief moment, his eyes and hair seem to gleam red.

"Stop and smell the roses while you've got the time."

It was over quickly. A sharp pain. And then blackness. A mercy.

Alastor laughs, ignoring the sound of dogs in the distance as thrill thrums through his veins. He savored the blood pooling on the forest floor. Your smile was going to make an excellent new addition to his collection.

"Pretty soon you'll be pushing up daisies where the sun don't shine."

[vidavalor]

You can leave your hat on

So Crowley comes up for a nightcap in The Blitz, Part 2 and takes off the wool overcoat the minisode introduced but leaves his hat on.

If you then go backwards and look at what he had on and when in The Blitz, Parts 1 & 2, it gets even more amusingly Ineffable Husbands pretty quickly...

When Crowley shows up in the church in The Blitz, Part 1 in his suit with the hat on, he's the last character to arrive in the scene but the clinch of a subtle commentary happening via the costuming by way of hats. Until the early 1960s, as you probably already know, a man didn't leave the house without a hat on, but they would take them off as a sign of respect in different places indoors-- churches and theatres among them. Women were not expected to do so, largely because the style of women's hats were often the kind that were pinned into their hair and to take it off was a whole damn thing that required more extensive grooming than is possible when just entering/exiting a place. As a result, the Nazis in the church scene are following social custom-- the male Nazis have their hats off because they're inside a church but Greta is not violating anything by having her (rather fabulous, ngl) hat on. Aziraphale, of course, took his hat off and has it in his hand for the duration of the scene.

Crowley kept his on and we're bemused more than anything because we know that while this is technically impolite, Crowley is far more of a good presently-man-shaped-being than these half-witted Nazi spies, right? Which is basically the point of the commentary-- that the rebels are often more morally sound than the conformers. Also goes without saying that Crowley shouldn't have the sunglasses on in church either (and that this is all set at night and during a blackout makes the fact that he does all the funnier) but Crowley can't take the glasses off around humans so... but then, after the rest of The Blitz, Part 1, we then hop into The Bentley with Crowley & Aziraphale at the start of The Blitz, Part 2 and find that Crowley has a new wardrobe addition:

Crowley is now wearing a black wool dress overcoat over his suit. Yes, they're magical and can regulate their body temperatures without actually needing the clothes they wear but the clothes they wear are also part of blending in with the humans of their day and we're now reminded that the 1941 part of The Blitz was going on over the winter into the early spring, something we could forget about momentarily when everyone had their coats off in the church but for Aziraphale, who has just worn the same coat for awhile now. This then serves to show us that Crowley got out of The Bentley outside of the church to go rescue Aziraphale and stopped to take his winter coat off and leave it in the car before doing so, all while choosing to not leave his hat behind as well. Yeah, wearing your hat into a church as a demon could be-- or only be-- about being a demon but we're going to see pretty soon that it's not *just* about that. So, why take his coat off?

Because he wants his angel to see his suit.

Crowley wears a lot of black and he had to be careful not to be mistaken for SS, so he's added in some color. He has some angelic white in the form of a hankerchief and a shirt that's a shade of grey that makes it actually look blue-- wearing his Aziraphale colors, we see-- and a snazzy red tie. You can't see this very well if he has his overcoat on so he left the coat in the car, consciously wanting to look as dashing as possible when showing up to grand romantic gesture Aziraphale.

When they get to the Windmill Theatre, Crowley wears both the hat and coat into the theatre-- but he takes the hat off once they're inside. Churches can go pound sand but Mrs. H? Crowley wouldn't dare disrespect her or her theatre lol. Aziraphale also takes his hat off in the theatre and we see that he does in every place of reverence to him, as he also takes his hat off in the magic shop later on. Crowley then wears the hat and coat both back from the theatre to the bookshop and once he settles in there to help Aziraphale prepare for his magic show, he *settles in*, as we know, tossing his hat on an angel statue, hanging up his overcoat, and unbuttoning and opening up his suit jacket as he sits down. The jacket now open, the design on his tie is now visible for the first time. Aziraphale is amusingly invested in his magic but when he does get around to unburying his nose from his autographed Prof. Hoff magic book, he can look his full at Crowley's whole ensemble here, which Crowley has been alternately hiding and revealing in bits and pieces so far (like a certain show we know lol.)

Crowley wears all of it on their date to the magic shop but keeps his overcoat open and takes his hat off again at The Windmill when he's in the audience and on stage with Aziraphale. However, after the performance, when Furfur confronts them, Crowley has the hat back on-- while he's lounging on the couch, alone with Aziraphale in the dressing room. They weren't exactly about to leave in that moment when Furfur showed up. Aziraphale is still in costume and they're still chatting about the performance. Crowley isn't standing by the door waiting for him to get his stuff so they can go and so already has his hat on. He's sitting on the couch. But the hat's back.

After Aziraphale manages to set Furfur up in this scene, we then next see them again in the bookshop, drinking Chateauneuf-du-Pape and talking about how Aziraphale saved the photo. Crowley's overcoat is nowhere to be seen, presumably hung up on the coat rack in the front part of the shop, but he's kept the hat on and, at this point, there's no other possible reason to not have taken it off but for that Aziraphale likes the hat. A lot.

(And yes, before anyone messages me, I know that's Terry Pratchett's hat. In the context of GO, though, that's Crowley's 1941 hat.)

[v1x3n]

ILL BE HOME FOR CHRISTMAS.

❆ PAIRINGS - satoru gojo x reader.

❆ SYNOPSIS - your waiting for your husband to get home, you decide to distract yourself with the christmas spirit while you wait.

❆ TAGS - angst (ifykyk)

the lights switched on the fabulous Christmas tree are turned on, the sparkling white stars almost blinding your eyes. the green tree which was overly decorated in baubles and small toys which your husbands students made for the two of you.

you glance around at the room, the lights that hung around the walls of the room, the tv blasting out 'Christmas hits', the chocolate selection box which had already been opened and was practically filled with wrappers placed on the armrest of the couch, the reef that hung over the cosy fireplace that warmed the chilly house up - everything was perfect.

but you were missing something - your husband.

after sighing, you decide to grab your phone, checking to see if he had responded yet but all you saw was the delivered checkmarks staring back at you. he will be on his way back, you think to yourself. flouncing around the living room to the kitchen, where you were making some cookies for the white haired man which wasn't Santa. grabbing a pair of oven gloves that had mistletoe printed onto, you pull the tray from the oven. the steam filling up your view, earning a small cough. "oh god," you breathe out, settling the fresh cookies on the counter.

you give yourself a small smile when looking over at the cookies, they looked perfect and you knew satoru would love them. sure they would all be gone the moment you showed them to him but that doesn't matter!

you hiss when trying to touch the boiling hot cookies, you had told yourself it was a bad idea but unfortunately you had anyways. you look at your finger that was the slightest pink, oh it doesn't even matter when your feeling this happy. you kick the oven door shut and move back into the living room - being smart and deciding to leave the cookies to cool down. you see a cinnamon candle was had been unused, just sat on the shelf all alone.

once finding your lighter, you set blaze to it, letting the wandering smell of light cinnamon fill out the room. letting it sit for a bit when you look at the flame dance around. "where is he." you grumble to yourself, maybe trying to distract yourself didn't work.

after yet another moment of silence from your phone, you slump down onto the couch. glancing over at the box of wrappers, shoving them off the arm of the sofa so your head can rest there.

scrolling through your phone for a while, head filled with the sounds of different people talking and singing through your phone while 'ill be home for Christmas' plays in the background.

20 minutes goes by, you decide to stop being so depressing and put your phone down, going over to the kitchen again. placing the perfect temperature cookies onto a plate with had little red bows decorating the edges. humming to yourself while filling up the cute plate. setting the warm cookies in a orderly fashion onto the plate, making them look absolutely perfect. andd look at that. there's one that doesn't fit, poor cookie.

you smile to yourself as you place a small section into your mouth. the warm cookie crumbles as you take a bite, crumbs falling down your chin. you almost groan at how godly they taste. fuck, satoru would absolutely love these.

hes still not here, you think again. he said he would be back by now.

he promised.

you wait for him, all night - you sit and wait. sat on the couch where he should he munching on your cookies. the cookies which were currently cold by now. the lights are turned off due to the timer and the tv was paused, sick of the endless jolly music.

Christmas eve soon ended and in came Christmas. that's when you heard a knock on your door, behind it showed you the teary faces of your husbands students.

[deconstructthesoup]

Looked at my Dead Boy Detectives swap AU, decided that it could be better, and ran with it. So... here ya go.

(For those of you who need a refresher---it's an AU where Crystal and Niko are the ghosts and Charles and Edwin are the alive ones. "Dead Girl Detectives," basically.)

Crystal is pretty much unchanged from the original concept---she died in the 1920's, she was a psychic socialite with absent parents, and she acted like the quintessential spoiled wild-child while secretly being fascinated by detective stories. She died when she got possessed by David the demon, who puppeted her body around for weeks... until she finally managed to wrench back some form of control, threw both of them off of a building, and wound up getting sent to Hell. Now that she's out and living free as a ghost, she's doing her level best to leave her old self behind and be a better person---partly for herself, but also so she can prove that she doesn't deserve eternal punishment if Hell ever comes for her again.

Niko's still an anime geek from the 1990's who was an outcast in life, but her death circumstances are different. Instead of dying from the dandelion sprites, she accepted an invitation to a party in an effort to try and socialize more after her father's death... and she got killed in a prank gone wrong, trapped in an abandoned mansion that used to belong to Crystal's family. She probably would've even moved on if it weren't for Crystal showing up and helping her out, giving Niko a reason to stick around. Niko's doing better now, but she still hasn't really processed her feelings surrounding her death. (Also, her hair's still white---she just dyed it that way, and it's never changed even after she died.)

Charles is also pretty much unchanged from the OG concept---he's still an irresponsible witch who got possessed by David and lost his memories as a result---with the added detail that he's one of many incredibly powerful magical people who David's possessed, wrecked havoc with their powers, and killed, though Charles thankfully survived the ordeal thanks to the Dead Girl Detectives. Also, I'm fairly certain that Charles is not only well aware that he's bisexual and out, but he and David were almost certainly dating. Or at least hooking up.

Edwin's still a socially awkward comics nerd and shut-in, but I decided to just have him get the paranormal parasite as a way for him to get involved with Charles and the Dead Girl Detectives---though, instead of a dandelion sprite that's all about soaking up attention, it's a hornet-themed sprite that feeds on people's insecurities and self-loathing. I think that he still butts heads with Crystal a little bit, but his bookish, studious nature winds up becoming incredibly helpful to the team, and he gets along great with Niko and Charles. Especially Charles.

Now, after thinking about it, I realized that if I was going to do a four-way swap with our main crew, it would probably make sense to do the same with our supporting cast. So:

The Night Nurse---or Minerva Knight, as I've tended to name her in my AUs---is in the place as Port Townsend's resident witch, though her motives are pretty different from Esther's. She has no need for any spells of eternal youth, having stopped aging a while ago, and she considers herself the protector of Port Townsend, keeping the forces of the supernatural at bay from the mundane residents... even if that means occasionally sacrificing a child or two to keep some of the more unsavory beings satisfied. Needless to say, Minerva has a very skewed view of morality, and unlike her canon counterpart, she can't really be swayed to change her mind. She's scary.

Esther, meanwhile, is in the lovely position as the Crow Queen, a charming and campy trickster being who exists to wear fabulous, over-the-top outfits, rule over her little feathered darlings, and to be a menace to everyone she meets. Her whole deal with Crystal isn't exactly flirtatious, but it's enough to give Crystal a gigantic bisexual awakening. And whether or not Esther's really all that interested and is just fucking with her, she's a lot of fun, and she's definitely instrumental in helping Crystal realize more about herself.

Thomas (the Cat King, but we're calling him by his first name) is Charles and Edwin's landlord---the owner of a queer bakery who's having a bit of a quarter-life crisis and is therefore a bit of an asshole to almost everyone he meets. Despite how prickly he is, though, he has an energy about him that makes him automatically endearing to every single misfit teen in a fifty-mile radius, and he's less than enthusiastic about it. Deep down, Thomas doesn't really mind, because he is a pretty lonely individual (not that he'd ever admit it).

And lastly, Jenny is the Night Guard On Duty in the Afterlife Lost & Found Department---overworked, burnt out, and thoroughly cynical when it comes to the affairs of the living. She's convinced that all she really needs is the big case that'll get her a promotion to a much less stressful position, and tracking down the Dead Girl Detectives seems to be just the thing. Of course, she's not as dedicated to her job as she appears to be, and even years of working in the most depressing place in the universe hasn't fully worn her down.

And, uh, other than the fact that I'm gonna have to figure out a stand-in for Monty... that's what I got!

[minniiaa]

I feel like Mihawk would low key like Law—he’s emo, covered in tattoos, carries around a big ass sword, became a Warlord by dropping off a crate full of hearts, doesn’t run his mouth (unless prompted), always shows his chest, and is a swordsman who DOESN’T want to challenge him.

The ONLY thing Mihawk would hate about him is his horrid fashion sense and I like to think he would lament to Perona about it after a Warlord meeting or something “he was wearing orange pants with a YELLOW jacket. Can you believe this Perona? Horrid I tell you. And what’s with the spots? Does he think he’s a leopard or something? So much wasted potential in that one.” Mihawk would say as he swirls his wine glass talking about Law has so much potential to be fabulous he’s just… not.

Perona would agree, thinking about all the amazing outfits she could put on Law to make him a prime specimen of emo culture. She’s been trying to get Zoro to go emo for months now and she starts holding up pictures of Law’s bounty poster to him and telling him it’s time to dye that ugly green hair of his and become more like this guy.

At first, Zoro has a vendetta against Law for the way he had been tortured by Persona with his face but when they meet later on he realizes Law is pretty chill if not kind of pathetic the way Luffy just runs circles around him and drives him crazy. Later in their journey he writes a letter to Perona (Mihawk basically begged him to write her letters now and again after listening to her cry for DAYS after he left but Perona would never admit it) he brags about how Law is with their crew now and that he’s just as moody as Mihawk but admits his fashion sense is really kind of shit even by his standards (even though Zoro is too stubborn to listen to Perona/Mihawk and change his own clothing style, they low key rubbed off on him and now he’s secretly judgmental af)

[thequeenofneverland1]

Klaus Mikaelson////My Little Wolf 

Anonymous request: Hi can I request where y/n is the daughter of Klaus and Hayley and Klaus gets protected when Landon asks y/n to the dance

Warnings: dark humor, Just Klaus being Klaus don’t read if you don’t like dark humor and Perhaps Violence and threats, but we all know how Klaus is when it comes to his daughter

As the daughter of Klaus Mikaelson and Hayley Marshall, you’ve always had a complicated legacy, but at the Salvatore Boarding School, you’ve managed to find your place. The grand halls of the school feel alive with history, yet they’ve also become a place of joy and friendship for you. Today, you’re surrounded by your best friends, the Saltzman twins, and the boys who make every moment more entertaining.

“Y/n, you’re late again,” Josie teases from her spot on the couch in the common room. Her dark hair is pulled back into a casual ponytail, and her warm smile immediately makes you feel at ease. She pats the spot next to her.

“Fashionably late,” you correct, tossing your apple to a nearest garbage can as you sat down.

Lizzie being the drama queen, lounges dramatically on the opposite couch, flipping through a magazine. “Please, Josie, don’t encourage her. She’s already got that ‘Mikaelson confidence’ thing going on.” She glances at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Which, by the way, you do wear well.”

You roll your eyes but grin. “Thanks, Liz. Coming from you, that’s basically a royal decree.”

MG and Kaleb are sitting nearby, locked in a heated discussion about who would win in a fight Batman or Iron Man. Kaleb waves his hands in frustration, trying to drive his point home, while MG shakes his head.

“It’s not even a contest!” MG exclaims, looking to you for backup. “Y/n, help me out here. Batman, right?”

“Don’t drag me into this,” you laugh, holding up your hands. “But if I had to choose… sorry, Kaleb, I’m team Batman.”

Kaleb groans, throwing his head back in exaggerated defeat. “I knew you’d side with MG.”

Across the room, Rafael and Jed are setting up for a game of pool. Jed is talking smack, as usual, but Rafael’s quiet confidence tells you he’s about to wipe the floor with him. You wander over to watch, leaning against the pool table.

“Need a hand, Raf?” you offer, grinning as you pick up a cue stick.

“Hey, no fair!” Jed protests. “If she helps, I’m done for.”

“That’s the idea,” you reply, winking at Rafael, who chuckles.

The afternoon passes in a blur of laughter and playful arguments. The twins, as usual, are the life of the party. Josie ropes you into helping her practice a new spell for class, and though you were feeling lazy. you were happy to help out. and Lizzie was making a big show of giving Kaleb a “fashion intervention,” which mostly consists of her mocking his choice of shoes.

When the group moves outside, the energy shifts into friendly chaos. MG and Kaleb challenge Rafael and Jed to a soccer match, and you’re quickly recruited to join in. The twins sit on the sidelines, cheering you on, though Lizzie mostly shouts tips about how to “look fabulous while winning.”

As the soccer game wraps up and everyone begins to disperse, you head back inside to grab a drink from the common room. The air is still buzzing with laughter and energy, but you take a moment to enjoy the quiet as you lean against the counter. Just as you take a sip of your water, the door creaks open, and Landon Kirby steps in.

He hesitates for a moment, his eyes scanning the room until they land on you. His usual easygoing demeanor seems a bit off. his hands are shoved into his pockets, and there’s a nervous edge to his smile.

“Hey, Y/n,” he says, his voice soft but warm.

“Hey, Landon,” you reply, tilting your head curiously. “What’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

He chuckles nervously, scratching the back of his neck as he steps closer. “Uh, no ghosts. Just… thinking about something. Or someone.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Oh? And who might that someone be?”

He looks away for a moment, as if gathering his courage, then meets your gaze. “You.”

You smirked. “Well, go on. I’m listening.”

Landon takes a deep breath, his hands still fidgeting in his pockets. “So, um… about the dance that’s coming up, and I was wondering if… maybe you’d want to go with me?”

Your first instinct is to say yes. Landon’s sweet, kind, and charming in his own way, and you’ve always felt a connection with him. But then reality hits. you’re not just any girl he can take to a dance. You’re Y/n Mikaelson, daughter of Klaus and Hayley, and if Landon wants to take you out, there are some significant hurdles he’ll need to overcome.

You bite your lip, a flicker of amusement and sympathy crossing your face. “You know I’d love to go with you, Landon. But…”

“But?” he echoes, his shoulders tensing.

“You know my parents,” you say gently, though the weight of your words is clear. “And my uncles. And my aunts. If you want to take me to the dance, you’re going to have to ask for their permission first.”

Landon’s face pales, and he lets out a nervous laugh. “Right. Of course. Your family. Mostly your father and his siblings.”

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah, all of them. And believe me, they take the whole ‘overprotective family’ thing to a new level.”

He runs a hand through his hair, clearly trying to process the monumental task ahead of him. “So, just to recap, I need to ask Klaus Mikaelson, the Original hybrid who’s probably already planning a hundred different ways to kill me if I mess up. Then Elijah, who’ll give me the most terrifyingly polite lecture ever. Even worse Kol, who might use his bat on me just for fun. Rebekah, who’ll probably critique my outfit before she even answers. And Freya, who might turn me into a frog.”

You laugh at his summary, unable to help yourself. “Pretty much.”

Landon groans, dropping onto the couch and burying his face in his hands. “This is a death sentence.”

“Oh, come on,” you tease, sitting down beside him. “They’re not that bad. Well, okay, maybe my dad is. But if you’re honest and show that you care about me, they’ll respect that. Probably.”

“Probably?” he repeats, lifting his head to give you an incredulous look.

You grin. “Look, Landon, they’re my family. They just want to protect me. If you really want to take me to the dance, you’ll have to prove to them that you’re worthy.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “Worthy of the Mikaelson princess. No pressure, right?”

You place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I’ll help you prepare. And for what it’s worth, I think you’ll do fine. My dad might even like you. Eventually.”

Landon doesn’t look entirely convinced, but the small smile on his lips tells you he’s willing to try. “Alright, Y/n. For you, I’ll face the Mikaelsons.”

You smile, warmth blooming in your chest. “Good. Because I really do want to go with you, Landon.”

He nods, determination settling in his features. “Then I’ll do it. I’ll talk to them.”

You can’t help but admire his courage. If Landon’s willing to face your father, uncles, and aunts just for the chance to take you to a dance, it’s clear that he cares about you. And though you know the road ahead won’t be easy for him, you also know that having someone like Landon in your life is worth the challenges.

After leaving the common room, Landon trudges down the hallway in search of his friends, his nerves still buzzing from his conversation with you. He finds MG, Kaleb, Rafael, and Jed hanging out in the courtyard, mid-discussion about some ridiculous bet Jed lost. As Landon approaches, they all look up, noticing his slightly dazed expression.

“Yo, Landon, you good?” Kaleb asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Not even close,” Landon mutters, collapsing dramatically onto a bench.

Rafael frowns, leaning forward. “What happened? Did Y/n turn you down or something?”

“No, she didn’t turn me down,” Landon says, waving his hand weakly. Then, after a moment’s pause, he groans and adds, “But I might not live long enough to actually take her to the dance.”

MG looks concerned. “Why? What’s going on?”

Landon sits up, his expression half serious, half comically panicked. “I need you guys to help me find a coffin.”

The group exchanges confused looks.

“A… coffin?” Jed repeats slowly, tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“Yeah, you know, the thing you put dead people in,” Landon replies, gesturing wildly. “Because as soon as I ask Y/n’s dad for permission to take her to the dance, I’m going to need one. Klaus Mikaelson is going to kill me!”

Kaleb bursts out laughing, slapping his knee. “Man, you are in deep. Asking Klaus Mikaelson for permission? That’s like asking a lion if you can borrow its cub for a walk.”

“I know!” Landon groans, throwing his hands in the air. “And it’s not just Klaus. It’s his siblings as well. I’m walking into a den of Original vampires! They’re going to tear me apart!”

“Wait, wait, wait,” MG says, holding up his hands. “Are you seriously telling us that Klaus Mikaelson, the literal Original hybrid, is the gatekeeper to you going to a dance with Y/n?”

“Exactly,” Landon says, his eyes wide. “And I have to convince him I’m not some pathetic mortal who’s going to ruin his daughter’s life. Which, spoiler alert, is exactly what I look like to him!”

Jed snickers, leaning back in his chair. “Honestly, this sounds like a ‘you’ problem, bro.”

“Wow, thanks, Jed,” Landon snaps, throwing him a glare.

Rafael shakes his head, trying not to laugh. “Okay, but why do you need a coffin?”

Landon stares at him, deadpan. “Because after Klaus kills me, I don’t want to end up in some unmarked grave. I want to at least look presentable at my funeral. Y/n deserves that much.”

The group erupts into laughter, and even Landon cracks a small smile despite his dramatic mood.

“Don’t worry, man,” Kaleb says, clapping Landon on the shoulder. “We’ll make sure you get a top-tier coffin. Gold trim, velvet lining the works. We’ll even put ‘He Died For Love’ on the plaque.”

“Very funny,” Landon mutters, though he can’t help but chuckle.

MG grins. “Honestly, Klaus probably won’t kill you outright. He might just dangle you off a balcony for a bit. Or, you know, chase you through the woods with a werewolf pack.”

“Gee, thanks, MG,” Landon says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Hey, at least you’ve got guts,” Rafael says, smirking. “Not a lot of guys would willingly walk into the Mikaelson lion’s den just to take one of the ladies to a dance.”

“Yeah,” Kaleb adds, his grin widening. “And if Klaus doesn’t kill you, it’ll be a great story to tell your grandkids.”

“Oh, fantastic,” Landon groans, standing up. “So, I’m either going to die, or I’ll be the guy who narrowly survived asking Klaus Mikaelson for permission to take his daughter out. Great options.”

“Look on the bright side,” Jed says, his tone mockingly cheerful. “At least you’ll be famous around here. ‘Landon Kirby: The Guy Who Almost Dated a Mikaelson.’”

The laughter starts up again, and despite his nerves, Landon can’t help but join in. If nothing else, he’s grateful to have his friends to help him laugh through the impending doom he’s about to face.

The next day, Landon decides it’s time to prepare for the most terrifying conversation of his life: asking Klaus Mikaelson for permission to take you to the dance. He enlists the help of his friends, though it quickly becomes clear that their idea of “help” is more about entertainment than actual support.

In the school’s common room, Landon stands in front of his friends, fidgeting with his shirt as he clears his throat. MG, Kaleb, Rafael, and Jed are seated on the couches, eagerly watching the spectacle unfold like it’s the most entertaining show they’ve ever seen.

“Alright,” Landon says, exhaling slowly. “Let’s do this. One of you be Klaus.”

“Dibs!” Kaleb shouts, immediately sitting up straighter and crossing his arms. He puts on an exaggerated British accent. “Well, well, well, Mr. Kirby. What makes you think you’re worthy of my daughter?”

Landon groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Klaus doesn’t sound like that, Kaleb.”

“Fine, fine,” Kaleb says, dropping the accent but keeping the intimidating glare. “Proceed, mortal.”

Landon glares at him but takes a deep breath and begins. “Mr. Mikaelson, I’d like to ask for your permission to take Y/n to the dance.”

Kaleb leans forward, narrowing his eyes. “And why should I let you anywhere near my precious little wolf? What do you have to offer, huh? Strength? Power? Immortality?”

Landon stammers. “Uh… well, I’m a nice guy, and—”

“WRONG!” Kaleb bellows, slamming his hand on the armrest. “You’re weak. Pathetic. And you can’t even turn into a wolf!”

MG bursts out laughing, nearly falling off the couch. “Kaleb, you’re being too much!”

“I’m channeling Klaus, man,” Kaleb defends, grinning. “You think he’s going to go easy on this guy?”

“Okay, okay,” Landon says, holding up his hands. “Someone else try. Rafael?”

Rafael shrugs. “Alright, I’ll give it a shot.” He stands and adopts a more measured, calm demeanor. “Alright, Landon. Let’s hear it.”

Landon relaxes slightly. “Mr. Mikaelson, I know how much Y/n means to you, and I promise I’ll do everything I can to make her happy and keep her safe.”

Rafael nods thoughtfully, then says in a low voice, “And if you fail, I’ll rip your heart out and feed it to the wolves.”

Jed howls in laughter. “Oh, that’s perfect. Raf, you nailed it.”

Landon groans. “You’re not helping!”

“Okay, okay,” MG says, stepping in. “Let me try. I’ll be the reasonable version of Klaus.” He stands and smooths his shirt, putting on a calm yet authoritative expression. “Landon, why do you think you deserve to date my daughter?”

Landon nods, taking a deep breath. “Because I care about her, and I’ll always treat her with respect. I’ll never let anything happen to her.”

MG crosses his arms, tilting his head. “You realize she’s stronger, faster, and deadlier than you, right? How exactly do you plan to protect her?”

Landon falters. “Uh… well, I—”

Kaleb cuts in, unable to resist. “Oh, I know! He can throw himself in front of danger while Y/n does all the actual fighting. That’ll impress Klaus!”

Everyone laughs, and Landon throws his hands up in frustration. “You guys are impossible!”

“Alright, alright,” Rafael says, standing and patting Landon on the back. “Let’s try again. This time, just be confident. Klaus respects strength, so don’t stammer or backpedal.”

Landon straightens his shoulders, nodding. “Got it. Confidence.” He takes a deep breath, squares his jaw, and looks at Rafael. “Mr. Mikaelson, I’m here to ask for your permission to take Y/n to the dance. I care about her deeply, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove myself to you.”

The room goes quiet for a moment, and Landon starts to feel like he’s finally getting the hang of it. Then Jed ruins the moment by chiming in with, “And if Klaus kills you, can I have your Xbox?”

The room erupts into laughter again, and Landon slumps onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. “I’m so dead.”

“Don’t worry, Landon,” Kaleb says, grinning. “We’ll make sure your funeral playlist is fire.”

“Very funny,” Landon mutters, though he can’t help but crack a small smile. With friends like these, at least he’ll die laughing.

Landon stands outside the Mikaelson mansion, staring at the large, ornate door that feels more intimidating than any creature he’s ever faced. The evening air is cool, but he’s sweating as he rehearses his words in his head one last time.

“Mr. Mikaelson, I’d like to ask for your permission to take Y/n to the dance. No, wait.-“ Klaus. Just Klaus. Be respectful but not too stiff… ugh, I’m so dead.”

He raises his hand to knock, hesitates, and almost turans to leave. “Maybe this is a bad idea. I could just text Y/n and say I.-“

But before he can finish the thought, his hand moves on its own and knocks twice. The sound echoes ominously, and his stomach churns.

Moments later, the door swings open, and there he is. Klaus Mikaelson in all his terrifying glory. Klaus is dressed casually, but there’s an air of power around him that makes Landon feel like he’s shrinking by the second. Klaus looks him up and down, his expression unreadable, though there’s a flicker of curiosity in his eyes.

“If you’re looking for my little wolf,” Klaus begins, his tone clipped but not entirely unfriendly, “she’s not here. She’s out shopping with her mother and aunts.”

Landon swallows hard, his throat dry. He almost says, Great, I’ll come back later! but instead clears his throat. “Uh, no, sir. I’m actually here to, uh… talk to you.”

Klaus raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “Talk to me, is it? Alright, then.” He steps aside, gesturing for Landon to enter. “Come in.”

Landon steps through the doorway, his nerves intensifying as he takes in the grandeur of the Mikaelson home. The place radiates history and power, and it doesn’t help that every creak of the floorboards feels like it’s announcing his presence to the entire house.

“Have a seat,” Klaus says, leading him into the living room.

Landon’s heart sinks further when he sees who else is waiting there. Elijah Mikaelson, impeccably dressed as always, sits in an armchair, sipping from a glass of bourbon. His calm, composed demeanor somehow makes him even more intimidating. And then there’s Kol, lounging on the couch with a mischievous grin, as if he’s been waiting for something or someone to entertain him.

“Well, this is unexpected,” Kol says, his tone laced with amusement. “Landon Kirby, isn’t it? What brings you to our humble abode?”

Landon tries to muster a smile but fails miserably. “Uh, hi. Yeah. Um… I just wanted to.-“

“You’re nervous,” Elijah observes, his tone polite but pointed. He sets his glass down and folds his hands in his lap, his intense gaze locking onto Landon. “Why is that?”

“Nervous?” Kol smirks, leaning forward. “You don’t think he’s here to ask for something, do you, brother?”

Klaus walks into the room, standing beside Elijah, and crosses his arms. His expression is calm, but there’s a sharpness in his eyes that keeps Landon rooted to the spot.

“Well?” Klaus says, tilting his head. “If you’ve come all this way to speak to me, Mr. Kirby, then speak. I don’t have all night.”

Landon glances around the room, realizing that all three Mikaelson brothers are now watching him like predators sizing up their prey. His mind blanks for a moment, and he almost considers making a run for it. But then he remembers your smile, the way you encouraged him to try, and he forces himself to stand a little taller.

“I… I’m here to ask for your permission, Mr. Mikaelson,” Landon begins, his voice shaky but determined. “To, uh, take Y/n to the dance.”

The room goes still. A heavy silence fills the air, and Landon swears he can hear his heart pounding in his ears. It feels as though all the air in the room has been sucked out, and the weight of the three originals and their gazes is enough to make him feel like he’s being dissected.

Klaus doesn’t move, his expression still unreadable. Elijah’s eyes narrow, just the slightest, and Kol’s smirk deepens into something far more predatory.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Klaus speaks, his voice smooth but with an edge. “You wish to take my daughter to a dance?”

Landon nods quickly, his voice steadying a little now that he’s finally said it aloud. “Yes, sir. I do. And I promise I’ll take good care of her.”

There’s a small shift in Klaus’s posture an almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw. “Tell me, Mr. Kirby…” Klaus leans forward slightly, his eyes never leaving Landon’s. “What makes you think I’d allow that?”

Landon swallows. This is the moment. He can’t falter now. He stands a little straighter, trying to project as much confidence as he can muster. “I.-“I care about Y/n a lot, sir. I know she’s… well, she’s amazing. And I want to make her happy. I’ll protect her with everything I’ve got.”

Elijah tilts his head, his voice as calm and calculating as ever. “And what does protecting her mean to you, Landon? You’re… human. That means you’re far more vulnerable than she is.”

Landon’s mouth goes dry. “I know I’m not as strong as you all, but I.-“ He stops himself, realizing how pathetic that sounds. “But I’ll never let anything happen to her. I swear.”

Kol chuckles softly, but there’s no warmth in it. “Protecting her with what, exactly? Your charming personality? Or the fact that you can’t even defend yourself from a single vampire?”

Landon shoots Kol a nervous glance but tries to keep his voice steady. “I may not be a vampire or a hybrid, but I’ll do whatever it takes. I’d never put her in harm’s way, and I’d rather… I’d rather die than let anyone hurt her.”

The room grows even quieter, and Landon feels like he’s barely breathing, waiting for Klaus’s verdict.

Finally, Klaus’s gaze softens, though just barely. He stands up straight, his eyes scanning Landon carefully. “You’re brave, I’ll give you that. But bravery alone doesn’t keep someone safe.” He turns to Elijah and Kol, his tone colder now. “What do you two think?”

Elijah, ever the stoic one, seems to consider it for a moment. “He’s earnest, Klaus. And he does care for her. But he’s not the type to take things lightly, either. I think he’ll treat her well.”

Kol, on the other hand, leans back into his seat, an amused grin still playing on his lips. “Oh, I think it’ll be entertaining. The look on his face when you try to kill him, Klaus. Can’t say I’m not looking forward to it.”

Landon’s stomach lurches, and he tries to ignore the heat rising in his face.

Klaus doesn’t respond to Kol right away, instead pacing a bit before he turns back to Landon. He stares at him for a long, drawn-out moment, and Landon wonders if he’s about to get tossed out or worse.

Finally, Klaus lets out a breath and says, “Alright, Mr. Kirby. I’ll allow it.”

Landon’s heart skips a beat, relief flooding him in a wave. “Really?”

Klaus’s lips twitch slightly, but the smile never reaches his eyes. “However, know this: I’m allowing it because you’ve shown respect. But if you hurt my daughter in any way, you won’t find me so lenient. Are we clear?”

Landon nods vigorously, practically bouncing on his heels. “Yes! Yes, I promise. I won’t hurt her, I swear.”

“Good,” Klaus says, his tone cool but satisfied. He turns toward Kol and Elijah. “Well, then. It looks like the mortal has earned his spot at the dance.”

Kol chuckles. “Don’t get too comfortable, Landon. You’ve earned this one battle, but the war is far from over.”

Elijah smirks, but there’s no real malice in his words. “You’ve made a good impression, but I’d still keep an eye on your back, just in case.”

Landon nods quickly, the nerves still crawling under his skin but softened by the sense of victory that fills him. He made it through. He’s in.

As he starts to back toward the door, Klaus calls after him, his voice more relaxed than before. “And Landon?”

Landon freezes and turns back. “Yes, sir?”

Klaus gives him a small, almost imperceptible nod. “Make sure she enjoys the dance. It’s important to her. Don’t ruin it.”

Landon smiles, feeling a mix of relief and excitement. “I won’t. I promise.”

As he steps out the door, he can’t help but exhale loudly, wiping his brow. He made it. And now all that’s left is to take you to the dance and make sure it’s a night you’ll never forget.

Landon practically bursts through the door of the Salvatores boarding school, a mix of relief and still-pounding nerves coursing through him. He’s made it out of the Mikaelson mansion in one piece, and somehow, Klaus actually agreed to let him take you to the dance. But he knows he’s not quite off the hook yet there’s still the matter of telling his friends.

As soon as he enters the common room, MG looks up from the couch, a grin spreading across his face. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t our favorite mortal. How’d it go? Did Klaus decide to rip you apart on the spot, or are you still intact?”

Landon lets out a deep sigh, collapsing onto a chair with a dramatic groan. “I’m alive. Barely.”

MG raises an eyebrow. “That good, huh?”

Landon looks over at him, then at the rest of his friends Kaleb, Rafael, and Jed all of whom are lounging around, waiting for the verdict.

“So?” Kaleb asks, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “Did you survive the wrath of the mighty Mikaelsons, or are you now a permanent resident of the family’s ‘invisible’ cemetery?”

Landon groans again, burying his face in his hands. “You don’t even know. It was like being interrogated by three centuries-old vampires and one of them being a hybrid with a literal temper. I thought they were going to feed me to the wolves.”

Jed chuckles. “Well, you’ve got that whole ‘vulnerable human’ thing going for you. No wonder Klaus was looking at you like you were the main course.”

Landon shoots him a glare but can’t help the small smile that creeps onto his face. “Yeah, it was that bad.”

Just then, MG stands up, his hands clasped in front of him as if he’s presenting a show. “Alright, Landon. Before you say anything else, tell us: what color of coffin do you want? Do you think you’ll fit in one of those black mahogany ones? Or are you more of a ‘funeral chic’ kind of guy, maybe a nice oak or cherry?”

Landon looks at MG, blinking in confusion. “What? What are you talking about?”

MG shrugs, putting on his best “serious” face. “Well, now that you’ve gotten Klaus’s blessing somehow you should be thinking about your funeral arrangements. I’m just helping you plan ahead.”

Landon stares at him for a beat before bursting out laughing. “I am not thinking about that!”

“Oh, come on,” MG says, grinning from ear to ear. “Klaus is definitely going to want to make an example out of you. I’m just trying to save you the trouble of figuring out which of your organs are going to be missing by the end of this.”

Landon laughs, shaking his head. “You guys are insane. I’m just trying to make sure Y/n has a good time at the dance. You think Klaus cares if I’m wearing the wrong shoes?”

“Wrong shoes? He’d probably care if you wore the wrong type of heart,” Kaleb says, rolling his eyes. “Like, you know, if it was still beating when he sees you holding her hand. He might just tear it out for fun.”

Landon groans. “Can you guys be serious for one second? I almost died in there.”

“I am serious,” Kaleb says, giving him a smirk. “When your literal future father-in-law is Klaus Mikaelson, you can’t help but plan your funeral arrangements. I’m just trying to make sure you’re ready.”

Rafael chuckles. “Yeah, man, you should probably start looking at the more affordable coffins. You know, just in case Klaus doesn’t decide to go full ‘killing you slowly for fun’ mode and opts for something quick.”

“Or he could just send you off in a regular pine box,” Jed adds, not missing a beat. “If you’re lucky, it’ll have a nice lining. Not that it matters much when you’re dead, but it’s the thought that counts.”

Landon looks at them all, deadpan. “You guys are terrible friends.”

“We’re just trying to prepare you for what’s coming,” MG says, taking a seat and crossing his arms. “It’s not every day someone has to ask Klaus and his brothers for permission to take the princess to a school dance.”

Landon sighs, rubbing his face. “I really hope this is all worth it.”

“Oh, it’s totally worth it,” Kaleb assures him with a grin. “Just think of the story you’ll be able to tell at your own funeral.”

Landon shoots him a look, but then he breaks into a smile. “You guys are ridiculous. But seriously, I really need a drink after that.”

Jed stands up with a laugh. “I’ve got you covered, my man. But we’re definitely getting you some strong stuff. You’re gonna need it.”

As Landon watches his friends scatter to find drinks and snacks, he can’t help but feel a little better. Sure, he was basically interrogated by Klaus and his brothers, but now he has his friends to help him get through the aftermath. And maybe, just maybe, if he survives this dance, he’ll finally get a little peace. Or at least a little less joking about his imminent demise.

The dining room of the Mikaelson mansion was as grand and elegant as always, the chandelier casting a warm glow over the long table. You sat comfortably between your parents, your mother reaching over occasionally to brush a stray strand of hair from your face while your father poured you another glass of sparkling cider. Dinner was lively as usual, with your uncles and aunts bantering, laughing, and sometimes bickering about old stories and mischief they’d caused over the centuries.

You were happily digging into your plate when Kol, who had been unusually quiet, suddenly cleared his throat. His signature smirk spread across his face, the kind that always signaled trouble.

“So,” Kol began, his voice carrying that unmistakable tone of mischief. “By the way, my favorite niece, your lover boy almost got himself killed by your dear father and us your favorites uncles today well I am talking about me I’m your favorite uncle.”

The fork you were holding froze mid-air, your cheeks immediately turning red. “What?” you stammered, darting a look at your dad.

Klaus, who had been swirling his wine glass lazily, didn’t even flinch. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, little wolf,” he said nonchalantly. “The boy showed up unannounced, rambling nervously about some dance. I merely… tested his intentions.”

Kol let out a laugh. “Tested? Oh, Nik, don’t be modest. You stared at him like you were imagining all the ways you could rip him apart. I swear, the poor lad’s knees were shaking so hard I thought he’d collapse right there on the threshold.”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Uncle Kol, please.”

“Oh, no, darling, you can’t hide now,” Kol teased, clearly enjoying himself. “Do you know what he said when he finally got up the courage to speak? He actually had the nerve to call Klaus ‘sir.’”

Rebekah snorted into her wine glass. “Oh, poor thing. No wonder he survived it t must’ve amused Nik to hear someone grovel for a change.”

“I wasn’t amused,” Klaus said, though the small twitch of his lips betrayed him. “I merely appreciated the respect. Though I admit, his fear was… entertaining.”

Elijah, ever the voice of calm, set his glass down and added, “He was quite brave, actually. Despite his nerves, he made his case rather eloquently.”

Kol scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Brave? The boy nearly fainted when Nik said, ‘What makes you think I’d allow that?” He burst out laughing, his laughter infectious enough that even Rebekah chuckled.

“uncle!” you hissed, your face burning. “You’re making it sound worse than it was!”

“Am I, though?” Kol quipped. “He practically had a foot in the grave already, Darling. Speaking of which, we should probably invest in some new coffins. Just in case.”

“You’re impossible,” you muttered, burying your face in your hands.

Hayley, sitting next to you, leaned over with a reassuring pat on your shoulder. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’m sure he handled it fine. Your father might have been dramatic, but he’s still sitting here alive, isn’t he?”

“And to be fair,” Rebekah added, smirking, “if he’s willing to endure all of that just to take you to a dance, he must like you quite a lot.”

Klaus straightened in his chair at that. “Of course, he likes her. He’d be foolish not to. But let’s not forget, Rebekah, liking her isn’t enough.”

Kol gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. “Oh, listen to you, Nik. Already planning to be the overbearing father. It’s adorable, really.”

“Kol,” Elijah interjected, his tone exasperated but amused, “perhaps you could let Y/n enjoy her meal without embarrassing her further.”

Kol leaned back with an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, fine. I’ll stop. For now. But only because I’m rather enjoying my dinner.”

You peeked out from behind your hands, glaring playfully at him. “I’m going to tell Landon about this, you know. See how he feels about you calling him out like that.”

Kol laughed, raising his wine glass in your direction. “Oh, do, darling. I’m sure he’ll love to relive the whole ordeal. Perhaps I’ll invite him over and recount every detail myself.”

Your mother rolled her eyes but smiled, pulling you into a side hug. “Ignore him, sweetheart. You know Kol just loves to stir the pot.”

Your father, however, leaned closer, his expression serious but tinged with humor. “Still, my little wolf, if that boy does anything to upset you, rest assured, your uncles and I will handle it.”

“Dad,” you groaned, laughing despite yourself.

The table erupted in laughter, and while you felt utterly mortified, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of your family’s love surrounding you. Even if they embarrassed you half to death, you knew they only did it because they cared.

The evening sun filtered through the tall windows of the Mikaelson mansion, casting a golden glow over the room. You were sitting in your father’s art studio, surrounded by canvases, brushes, and the familiar scent of paint. Klaus stood beside you, his own canvas perched on an easel, as he worked with deliberate strokes, his expression calm but focused.

You loved these moments with your father just the two of you, sharing something he loved so deeply. Painting had always been his escape, his way of expressing what words couldn’t, and you cherished that he let you be a part of it.

“Yours is coming along nicely,” Klaus said, glancing over at your canvas. His voice was soft, filled with pride.

You smiled, dipping your brush into the vibrant blue paint. “Thanks, Dad. I had a good teacher.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. “Flattery will get you everywhere, little wolf.”

For a while, the two of you painted in companionable silence, the only sounds being the soft swish of brushes against the canvas and the occasional chirping of birds outside. But then Klaus set down his brush and turned toward you, his blue eyes studying you thoughtfully.

“You know,” he began, his voice quieter now, “I’ve been thinking.”

“Uh-oh,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “That’s dangerous.”

He smirked but didn’t take the bait. Instead, he stepped closer, his tone growing more serious. “I know I’m… overprotective. Perhaps even to an extreme.”

You set your brush down, sensing the shift in his mood. “Dad—”

“No, let me finish,” he said gently, taking a seat on the stool beside you. “I know it frustrates you sometimes. The way I question every person who gets close to you, the way I hover, the way I make it clear that no one will ever be good enough for my little wolf.”

You bit your lip, unsure where he was going with this, but you could see the sincerity in his eyes.

“But I need you to understand,” he continued, his voice softening, “I only do it because I love you. You are my everything, Y/n. From the moment I first held you in my arms, you became the single most important thing in my life. You’re not just my daughter, you’re my heart, my hope and my reason for being.”

Your chest tightened at his words, and you felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

“I’ve lived a long time,” Klaus said, his gaze distant for a moment as if recalling centuries of pain and loss. “I’ve lost so much too much. And the thought of losing you? It’s unbearable. Without you, little wolf, I can’t live. You’ve given me something I never thought I’d have: peace.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks now, and Klaus reached out, gently wiping them away with his thumb. “Oh, my sweet girl,” he murmured. “Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You shook your head, smiling through your tears. “I’m not upset. I just… I didn’t know you felt like that.”

“Of course, I do,” he said, his voice full of emotion. “I know I don’t always say it, but you mean the world to me. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if it means being a little… overbearing.”

You laughed softly, leaning into his hand as he cupped your cheek. “You’re more than a little overbearing, Dad. But I get it. And… I love you, too.”

A rare, genuine smile spread across his face, and he pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly. “I love you more than words can say, little wolf. Always.”

For a while, you just stayed there in his embrace, feeling safe and loved. Eventually, Klaus pulled back and tapped your nose with a paint-covered finger, leaving a small blue smudge.

“Now,” he said, his tone lightening, “let’s see if my little artist can beat me in creating a masterpiece.”

You laughed, grabbing your brush. “Oh, it’s on, old man.”

As the two of you returned to your canvases, the earlier heaviness melted away, replaced by laughter and playful banter. And in that moment, you were reminded once again how much your father loved you. and how lucky you were to have him.

The Mikaelson mansion was buzzing with excitement as the day for the school dance approached. You were sitting on the couch, flipping through a magazine absentmindedly, when Rebekah waltzed into the room with her usual flair, her eyes gleaming with purpose.

“Alright, my gorgeous niece,,” she announced, clapping her hands together. “It’s time we find you the perfect dress for the dance. Something that will make that boy of yours forget how terrified he is of your father.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Auntie Bex, can’t I just wear something I already have? I mean, it’s just a dance.”

Rebekah gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest as if you’d just insulted her entire existence. “Just a dance? Y/n, it’s your first school dance! You can’t just show up in something ordinary. You need to make a statement.”

Hayley walked in, carrying a mug of coffee, and smirked at the scene. “Don’t argue, Y/n. When your aunt gets this determined, it’s easier to just go along with it.”

You groaned but couldn’t suppress the small smile creeping onto your face. “Fine. But no over-the-top, frilly stuff, okay?”

“Deal,” Rebekah said with a wink. “Now, go get your shoes. We’re heading out.”

Not long after, you, your mom and your aunts piled into the car and made your way into the heart of the city. The shopping district was lively, the streets lined with boutiques, twinkling lights, and the faint sound of music drifting through the air.

“This is going to be so much fun,” Freya said, looping her arm through yours as you walked into the first boutique. “I don’t get to do this kind of thing often, so you better enjoy it.”

“I’ll try,” you teased, grinning at her.

Rebekah was already scanning the racks like a woman on a mission, pulling out dresses and holding them up for inspection. “This one’s too plain. This one’s too short. Oh, this one could work if we added a few accessories…”

Your mother leaned against a nearby wall, sipping her coffee and shaking her head. “She’s like a hurricane when it comes to shopping, isn’t she?”

“You have no idea,” you muttered, watching as Rebekah flitted from one rack to another with lightning speed.

“Oh, come now,” Rebekah said, overhearing you. “You’ll thank me when Landon sees you in the perfect dress and forgets how to breathe.”

Freya laughed. “Or how to form a coherent sentence. That boy’s already skittish enough around Klaus.”

You rolled your eyes but felt a flush creep up your cheeks. “You guys are ridiculous.”

After what felt like hours of trying on dress after dress. some of which were vetoed immediately by Hayley for being “too revealing” and others dismissed by Rebekah for being “too boring” you finally stepped out of the fitting room in a dress that made everyone fall silent.

It was elegant yet simple, a perfect balance of your style and the timeless class your family was known for. The fabric shimmered subtly under the light, and the fit was flawless.

Rebekah clasped her hands together, her eyes practically sparkling. “That’s the one. Absolutely perfect.”

Hayley nodded, a proud smile on her face. “You look beautiful, sweetheart.”

Freya stepped closer, adjusting the hem slightly and nodding in approval. “It’s stunning, Y/n. You’re going to steal the show.”

You turned to look at yourself in the mirror, feeling a little shy under their adoring gazes. “You really think so?”

“Absolutely,” Rebekah said firmly. “Landon won’t know what hit him.”

“And neither will anyone else,” Hayley added, her tone protective. “But if anyone even thinks about messing with you, they’ll have to deal with us first.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I think you guys are more excited about this dance than I am.”

Freya grinned. “Of course we are. You’re the baby of the family. We have to make sure everything is perfect for you.”

After finalizing the dress, you spent the rest of the afternoon hunting for shoes and accessories, with Rebekah insisting on the importance of “the complete look.” By the time you were done, you were exhausted but couldn’t help feeling excited as you imagined how the dance would unfold.

As you all piled back into the car, Rebekah turned to you with a sly smile. “Now, darling, let’s talk about hair and makeup. I have some ideas…”

“Rebekah,” Hayley said warningly, “don’t overwhelm her.”

You groaned dramatically, making everyone laugh, but deep down, you felt grateful. Shopping with your mom and aunts was chaotic, but it was filled with love, and you wouldn’t trade these moments for anything.

Landon paced nervously in the Salvatore School common room, his hands clutching a tie that he couldn’t figure out how to knot. His friends. MG, Kaleb, and Jed sat sprawled on the couches, watching him with varying degrees of amusement and pity.

“Alright, Landon,” Kaleb said, smirking as he leaned back, arms crossed. “You’re pacing so much, you’re gonna wear a hole in the floor. Chill, man.”

“I can’t chill!” Landon exclaimed, throwing his tie onto the coffee table. “Do you guys realize what I’m about to do? I’m taking Y/n Mikaelson to the dance. The Y/n Mikaelson. That means her dad, her uncles, her entire original vampire family is going to be watching my every move.”

Jed grinned, leaning forward. “Don’t forget her aunt Rebekah. I heard she once ripped a guy’s heart out because he didn’t pull out her chair at dinner.”

“That’s not helping!” Landon groaned, flopping onto the couch.

MG picked up the tie and started fiddling with it. “Look, man, it’s gonna be fine. You already got through the worst part. asking Klaus for permission. The fact that you’re still alive is a good sign.”

“Yeah,” Kaleb chimed in, “but just barely. From what I hear, Klaus and Kol were probably one snarky comment away from turning Landon into a pile of ash.”

Landon shot him a glare. “Again, not helping.”

MG chuckled, holding up the tie. “Alright, real talk. what are you wearing to this thing? Please tell me you’re not gonna show up in that sad excuse for a blazer that you have.”

“I got a new suit,” Landon mumbled defensively.

Kaleb raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? Let’s see it.”

Landon sighed, standing up and pulling a garment bag from the back of a chair. He unzipped it to reveal a sleek, dark suit with a subtle shine, complete with a perfectly pressed white shirt and a dark blue tie.

MG whistled. “Okay, okay. Look at you, Mr. Fancy. You clean up nice.”

Jed tilted his head, squinting at the suit. “Looks sharp. But, uh… you think it’s gonna stain?”

Landon blinked. “Stain? What are you talking about?”

“You know,” MG said, grinning wickedly. “When Klaus decides to rip out your heart because you step on Y/n’s foot or something. Blood can be hard to get out of fabric.”

Kaleb burst out laughing, clapping his hands together. “Man, he’s got a point! You should’ve gone with something darker red hides blood better. Rookie mistake.”

“Or just wear a poncho,” Jed added with a shrug. “Less cleanup that way.”

Landon groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Why did I even ask you guys for help? You’re making me feel worse.”

“Relax,” MG said, slinging an arm over Landon’s shoulder. “We’re just messing with you. You’ll be fine. Just don’t do anything stupid, like spill punch on her dress or forget to compliment her. Oh, and maybe avoid being alone with her family for too long.”

“Yeah,” Kaleb said, grinning. “Especially Kol. That guy’s crazy, and not the fun kind of crazy.”

“Not helping,” Landon muttered again, shaking his head.

MG handed him the tie. “Alright, let’s focus. Get this on, practice your lines in the mirror, and remember: confidence is key. If Klaus smells fear, you’re done for.”

“That’s comforting,” Landon said dryly, but he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips.

As they continued to tease him, Landon couldn’t help but think that, for all his nerves, having friends to lighten the mood might actually keep him from having a complete meltdown before the dance. Well, maybe.

The Salvatore School common room was lively as usual, with you, Lizzie, Josie, Landon, MG, Kaleb, and Jed lounging on the couches and chairs, throwing playful banter back and forth. Landon, as usual, looked like a bundle of nerves, sitting next to you and fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Lizzie, who always seemed to enjoy stirring the pot, glanced at Landon with a smirk. “So, Landon, have you decided what your last words are going to be? You know, just in case.”

Landon groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Why does everyone keep acting like I’m going to die?”

“Uh, because you might?” Kaleb said, grinning. “No offense, Y/n, but your dad has a reputation. And your uncles? They’re like a murder squad. If I were Landon, I’d be saying my goodbyes right about now.”

Josie tried to hold back a laugh but failed. “He’s not that bad, guys. Right, Y/n?”

You rolled your eyes, patting Landon’s shoulder. “They’re just messing with you. My dad’s bark is worse than his bite.”

“Uh, yeah, tell that to the thousands of people he’s actually bitten,” MG quipped, earning a round of laughter.

“Wow, thanks for the support,” Landon muttered, slouching further into the couch.

Suddenly, MG straightened up, his expression shifting to one of mock seriousness. “Guys,” he said dramatically, “we need to talk about something important. If Klaus actually kills Landon, we need to decide how we’re going to honor his memory.”

Kaleb nodded, stroking his chin like he was pondering something deeply profound. “True, true. A eulogy, maybe? Or a memorial tree in the courtyard?”

Jed, catching on to the joke, slapped his chest and sniffled loudly. “Guys, I can’t! I’ll cry too much!”

“Don’t cry for me!” Landon groaned, throwing a pillow at Jed.

But Jed dodged and dramatically wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “We’ll miss you, bro, but, uh… we can’t avenge you.”

“What?!” Landon exclaimed, sitting up straight.

MG shrugged, pretending to look apologetic. “Yeah, man. If we try to get revenge, your father-in-law will turn us into, like… garden mulch. So, sorry, but we’re not signing up for that.”

“Yeah,” Kaleb added, nodding solemnly. “We’ll say nice things at your funeral, though. Real heartfelt stuff.”

“Oh, totally,” Jed said, clutching his chest again. “Like, ‘Landon Kirby: the bravest dude to ever date a Mikaelson. May he rest in pieces.’”

“Pieces?” Landon squeaked.

“Well, it depends on how mad Klaus gets,” Kaleb said nonchalantly.

Even Lizzie couldn’t resist joining in. “Don’t worry, Landon. We’ll make sure the flowers at your grave match your suit. It’s the least we can do.”

“Guys, stop,” you said, trying to sound stern but unable to hide your laughter.

Landon, on the other hand, looked half-amused and half-horrified. “You’re all terrible friends.”

“Hey, at least we’re honest,” MG said, raising his hands. “I mean, c’mon, would you take on Klaus Mikaelson for me? Be real.”

Landon hesitated. “Uh… well…”

“Exactly,” Kaleb said, smirking.

You leaned over, grabbing Landon’s hand to reassure him. “Don’t worry, Landon. They’re just being idiots. My dad actually likes you.”

“Likes him?” Josie whispered to Lizzie with a grin. “Is that why he sharpened his favorite weapons the other day?”

You shot Josie a look, trying to suppress your laugh as Landon groaned again, sinking back into the couch.

“Okay, I’m doomed,” he muttered. “Does anyone know a good hiding place?”

“Not really,” Jed said, smirking. “But we do know a good funeral home.”

The room erupted into laughter, and despite Landon’s protests, even he couldn’t help but crack a small smile.

The Mikaelson family gathered in the grand living room of their mansion, the soft glow of the chandelier casting a warm light over the scene. Your father and uncles stood near the fireplace, each with a glass of bourbon in hand, while your aunts and mother were sprawled across the couches with their phones, scrolling through endless pictures of hairstyles. The faint sound of classical music played in the background, creating an oddly serene atmosphere considering the topic of conversation.

“I think this braid would look perfect on Y/n,” Rebekah said, holding up her phone to Hayley. “Elegant, yet timeless.”

Hayley tilted her head, studying the image. “It’s nice, but what about something with curls? Y/n has such beautiful hair; we should make it stand out more.”

Freya chuckled, shaking her head. “You two are overthinking this. Y/n would look stunning no matter what hairstyle she picks.”

Meanwhile, the brothers were deep in their own conversation. or, more accurately, Kol was stirring the pot as usual.

“So,” Kol began, swirling his bourbon with a mischievous glint in his eye, “dear brother, have you decided how you’re going to kill your future son-in-law? Or are you going to just let him die of fright when he sees you at the dance?”

Klaus shot him a glare but said nothing, sipping his drink instead.

Elijah, ever the diplomat, raised an eyebrow. “Kol, must you be so dramatic? Landon has already proven his intentions are honorable.”

Kol scoffed, smirking. “Honorable? The boy could barely string two words together when he came here begging for Y/n’s hand in. what was it, again? Oh, yes, a high school dance. Pathetic, really.”

Klaus’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “I’ll admit, it was… amusing. The stammering, the sweating… the way he almost bolted when I opened the door.”

“That’s because you looked at him like he was dinner,” Hayley chimed in, glancing up from her phone. “Poor kid probably thought he was going to be the next werewolf snack.”

“Well, he should be afraid,” Klaus said, his tone deceptively casual. “It keeps him in line. If he even thinks about putting one foot out of place…” He trailed off, letting the unspoken threat linger.

Kol burst out laughing, clapping Klaus on the shoulder. “Oh, Nik, you’re such a softie these days. Let me guess. you’ve already got the ‘disappointed father’ speech planned, don’t you? Or are you going straight for the ‘intimidating immortal hybrid’ act?”

Klaus rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Why would I waste my time with speeches when actions are far more effective?”

“Of course,” Kol said, grinning wider. “But do tell. are you thinking heart removal, or something more creative? Personally, I’d go for the old-fashioned ‘hang him upside down from a tree’ routine. Really sends a message.”

Elijah sighed, setting his glass down. “Kol, must you always turn everything into a spectacle? Landon has survived thus far. Perhaps we should give him some credit for his resilience.”

Rebekah, who had been quietly listening while scrolling through hairstyles, smirked and chimed in. “Oh, please. The boy’s only alive because Y/n begged Klaus not to kill him. Don’t act like he’s some great survivor.”

Hayley snorted, shaking her head. “You guys are unbelievable. Landon’s just a kid trying to impress Y/n. Cut him some slack.”

Freya chuckled. “To be fair, I think he deserves a little credit for standing up to Klaus. Most people wouldn’t even dare knock on this door.”

Kol raised his glass. “To Landon Kirby: the bravest idiot I’ve ever met. May he survive the dance without fainting. or worse.”

Klaus smirked, raising his glass in return. “We’ll see. But if he dares step out of line, I’ll be sure to remind him why he should fear me.”

Hayley rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “You’re impossible.”

Rebekah leaned over to show Freya a picture of an elaborate braided updo. “What do you think about this one? Too much?”

“Perfect,” Freya said. “Now, let’s just hope Y/n can survive her overprotective father and uncles long enough to enjoy her dance.”

As laughter filled the room, you walked in, looking around suspiciously. “What’s so funny?”

The room fell silent for a moment before Kol, ever the troublemaker, grinned and said, “Oh, nothing, darling niece. We were just discussing how many ways your father plans to terrify your boyfriend.”

You groaned. “Seriously? You guys are unbelievable.”

“Welcome to the family,” Freya said, smirking as she patted the seat next to her.

The Mikaelson mansion was quiet that evening, the usual chaos giving way to a more serene atmosphere as preparations for the big night unfolded. Your dress hung on a nearby mannequin, glimmering softly under the dim chandelier light. You sat in front of an ornate vanity, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness as your aunts worked their magic.

Rebekah stood beside you, a makeup brush in hand, her expression one of intense concentration. “Hold still, darling. If you keep fidgeting, I’ll end up giving you a clown face instead of a masterpiece.”

You giggled, trying to stay still as she lightly dusted your cheeks with blush. “I’m not fidgeting that much.”

“Not much?” Rebekah raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You’re like a rabbit caught in headlights. What’s got you so jittery? Nervous about seeing Landon?”

Hayley, standing behind you, chuckled as she carefully pinned another curl into place. “Of course she’s nervous. This is her first big dance, and her first time going with a date. And not just any date. one who’s brave enough to face Klaus and her uncles.”

Freya, on the other side of you, nodded as she braided a section of your hair into an intricate pattern. “Honestly, I’m surprised Landon didn’t faint during his ‘talk’ with Klaus. I was half expecting Kol to scare him off entirely.”

Rebekah laughed, putting down her brush and reaching for a tube of lipstick. “Well, he survived round one. Let’s see how he holds up at the actual dance when Nik is glaring at him the whole night.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “You guys are terrible. You’re supposed to be helping me relax, not making me more nervous.”

“Relax?” Rebekah teased, tilting your chin up gently so she could apply the lipstick. “Honey, this is your big night! Nerves are part of the excitement. Besides, you look absolutely stunning. Landon’s jaw is going to hit the floor when he sees you.”

Freya stepped back, admiring her handiwork. “Your hair is coming together beautifully. What do you think, Hayley?”

Hayley nodded, a soft smile on her face. “Perfect. Y/n, you look incredible. You’re going to steal the show tonight.”

You glanced at yourself in the mirror, taking in the soft waves and intricate braids Freya and Hayley had woven into your hair. Rebekah’s makeup was flawless, enhancing your features without overdoing it. For a moment, you didn’t even recognize yourself.

“Wow,” you murmured, a little overwhelmed. “I… I look.-“

“Like a princess,” Rebekah finished, stepping back to admire her work. “No, scratch that. you look like royalty. Fitting, considering your father treats you like his little queen.”

Freya chuckled, patting your shoulder. “You’re all set, Y/n. Now, let’s get you into that dress.”

Your mother helped you stand, careful not to mess up your hair, and Rebekah carefully unzipped the garment bag. The dress shimmered as she pulled it out, and you couldn’t help but gasp. It was perfect. elegant yet youthful, with just the right amount of sparkle.

As they helped you into the gown, Freya adjusted the hem while Hayley zipped up the back. Rebekah fluffed the skirt slightly, stepping back with a proud smile.

“There,” Rebekah said, crossing her arms. “You look like a dream.”

You turned to the mirror, your breath catching as you took in the full effect. The hair, the makeup, the dress. it all came together perfectly.

Your mother placed her hands on your shoulders, smiling warmly at you in the reflection. “Y/n, you’re going to have an amazing time tonight. Just be yourself, and don’t worry about anything.”

Freya nodded, her eyes twinkling. “Exactly. And if anyone gives you trouble, well, you have the most intimidating family in the world to back you up.”

Rebekah smirked. “And a whole lot of sass to throw at anyone who dares to step out of line. You’re a Mikaelson, after all.”

You laughed, feeling a surge of confidence as you looked at yourself again. “Thanks, mother and aunts. This really means a lot to me.”

Rebekah leaned down, kissing your cheek lightly. “Go have the time of your life, Honey. But remember. if Landon messes up, just say the word, and we’ll take care of him.”

“Rebekah!” Hayley scolded, laughing as you shook your head.

“Just kidding,” Rebekah said with a wink, though the mischievous glint in her eye said otherwise.

As you looked at your reflection one last time, you couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and love for your family, even with their quirks. Tonight was going to be unforgettable.

Landon stood nervously on the doorstep of the Mikaelson mansion, his palms sweaty despite the cool evening air. The house loomed over him like a medieval fortress, its grandeur only amplifying his nerves. With a deep breath, he adjusted his tie, muttering to himself.

“Okay, Landon. You survived the talk… You can do this. Just smile, be polite, and don’t faint.”

He raised his hand to knock, hesitated, and then finally forced himself to tap lightly on the massive door. The sound echoed ominously, and for a moment, he considered running. But before he could entertain that thought, the door creaked open.

And there he was, Klaus Mikaelson, standing in the doorway like a king surveying his kingdom. His piercing blue eyes locked onto Landon, his expression unreadable but undeniably intimidating. He was dressed sharply, though casually, as if to say he didn’t need to try to assert his dominance.

“Ah, Mr. Kirby,” Klaus said, his voice smooth but edged with a hint of amusement. “Right on time. my little wolf is still upstairs getting ready.”

Landon swallowed hard, his throat dry as he cleared it nervously. “Uh, no, sir. I mean, yes, but.-“ He paused, trying to steady himself. “I thought I’d, uh, wait for her here.”

Klaus smirked, stepping aside and motioning for him to enter. “Very well. Come in.”

As Landon stepped inside, the familiar grandeur of the Mikaelson home seemed even more overwhelming than usual. The chandeliers glittered above him, the air thick with history and power. But what really made his stomach drop was the sight waiting for him in the living room.

The entire Mikaelson clan was there, seated as if they had been waiting just for him. Elijah sat in his usual regal posture, a glass of bourbon in hand, his gaze cool and assessing. Kol lounged on the couch, twirling a silver dagger between his fingers, a mischievous grin plastered across his face. Freya leaned casually against the mantel, her arms crossed but her eyes twinkling with amusement. Hayley was there, her expression more neutral but still laced with curiosity.

Rebekah, perched elegantly on a nearby armchair, was the first to break the silence. “Well, well, if it isn’t the brave suitor.” She smirked, her eyes flicking over him. “I must say, Landon, you clean up nicely.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Landon managed, his voice slightly shaky.

Kol snorted. “Ma’am? Oh, please. Rebekah doesn’t look a day over 100.”

Rebekah shot him a glare but didn’t refute the comment.

Elijah set his glass down, his gaze steady on Landon. “It’s good to see you again, Landon. I trust you’re prepared for this evening?”

“Yes, sir,” Landon replied quickly, though the confidence in his voice wavered slightly.

Klaus shut the door behind him and moved to stand beside Elijah, his arms crossed. “Are you sure about that, boy? Because from where I’m standing, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

Landon let out a nervous laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m fine. Really. Just… a little nervous.”

Kol chuckled, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. “A little? You look like a lamb being led to slaughter. Should I fetch you a glass of water or a stretcher?”

“Kol,” Hayley said with a warning tone, though she was clearly holding back a smile.

Freya smiled sympathetically at Landon. “Don’t mind them. They’re just having fun at your expense.”

“Fun?” Kol smirked, twirling the dagger again. “Oh, come on, Freya. It’s tradition. No one dates a Mikaelson without a little… hazing.”

“Kol,” Klaus said sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument. He turned his gaze back to Landon, his expression softening slightly. “Relax, boy. You’re here for Y/n, not us. Though,” he added with a smirk, “don’t think for a second we won’t be watching your every move tonight.”

Landon’s heart pounded, but he managed a small nod. “I understand, sir. I’ll, uh… I’ll do my best to make sure she has a great time.”

Rebekah chuckled, raising her glass in a mock toast. “Well, here’s to hoping you survive the night, Landon. And remember if you don’t, it’s nothing personal. Just Mikaelson tradition.”

Kol grinned, leaning back on the couch. “Yes, and you can always haunt us if it doesn’t work out.”

The room erupted in laughter, and while Landon tried to smile, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t entirely joking.

You took a deep breath, smoothing the delicate fabric of your dress as you prepared to descend the grand staircase of the Mikaelson mansion. The faint hum of conversation from the living room reached your ears, and you could only imagine what your family was saying to Landon in your absence. They loved to tease, after all.

The soft click of your heels against the polished wood announced your arrival before you came into view. As you stepped onto the staircase, every pair of eyes turned toward you, the room falling silent in an instant.

Klaus, standing near the fireplace with his usual air of authority, was the first to react. A proud smile spread across his face, his blue eyes softening. “There she is,” he murmured, his voice barely audible but brimming with affection.

Kol let out a low whistle, grinning mischievously. “Well, if this isn’t a sight. Little Y/n all grown up and stealing the show already.”

Freya and Hayley exchanged a knowing glance, their smiles warm and full of pride. Elijah simply nodded, his approval clear in the slight upward curve of his lips.

But none of their reactions compared to Landon’s.

As you reached the bottom of the staircase and stepped into the room, Landon’s jaw practically dropped. His eyes widened, and for a moment, it seemed like he forgot how to breathe. He stared at you, completely captivated, his gaze filled with pure adoration.

“You… you look…” he began, his voice barely above a whisper. “Wow.”

A blush crept up your cheeks at his awestruck expression, and you offered him a shy smile. “Thank you, Landon. You look pretty great yourself.”

But before he could respond, he felt it. the unmistakable sensation of several pairs of eyes boring into him. Slowly, almost comically, he tore his gaze away from you and glanced around the room.

Sure enough, the siblings and even Hayley were all staring at him with varying degrees of intensity. Klaus’s expression was calm, but his sharp eyes held a warning. Elijah, ever composed, raised an eyebrow slightly, as if silently reminding Landon to behave. Kol, on the other hand, grinned like a cat who’d just cornered a mouse.

“Well, well,” Kol said, his voice dripping with amusement. “Lover boy here seems completely smitten. Can’t say I blame him.”

“Kol,” Hayley warned, though she couldn’t hide the small smirk tugging at her lips.

Rebekah rolled her eyes, stepping in to break the tension. “Oh, leave the poor boy alone. He’s just admiring his date right, Landon?”

Landon nodded quickly, his cheeks flushing. “Y-Yeah, just admiring.”

Klaus took a slow step forward, his presence commanding as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “You look beautiful, my little wolf,” he said softly, his voice filled with pride. Then, his gaze shifted back to Landon, his tone hardening just slightly. “Take good care of her tonight. Remember, she’s the jewel of this family.”

Landon gulped and nodded, his hands clenching nervously at his sides. “Of course, sir. I promise.”

Kol chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve got some guts, Kirby. Let’s hope you don’t lose them by the end of the night literally.”

You shot Kol a glare, playfully swatting at his arm. “Uncle Kol, stop scaring him!”

Freya laughed, taking a sip of her drink. “He’s just having fun, Y/n. Don’t worry Landon will be fine. Probably.”

Landon glanced at you, his nervous smile softening when his eyes met yours. Despite the teasing and the pressure, you could see the genuine affection in his gaze. It made your heart flutter, and for a moment, the rest of the room seemed to fade away.

“Shall we?” he asked, offering you his arm.

You smiled, slipping your hand into his. “We shall.”

As the two of you headed toward the door, Klaus’s voice rang out once more. “Landon.”

Landon froze, turning back to face him. “Y-Yes, sir?”

Klaus’s smile was faint but unmistakably sharp. “Remember what we talked about.”

“Yes, sir,” Landon said quickly before practically bolting out the door with you by his side.

The moment you were out of earshot, the room erupted into laughter, Kol’s voice leading the charge. “Oh, that poor lad. He has no idea what he’s in for.”

As the door closed behind you and Landon, the Mikaelson family sat in silence for a moment, the faint sound of your laughter outside barely audible. Klaus stood by the fireplace, his gaze lingering on the door, his fingers drumming against the side of his glass. He didn’t say anything at first, but the subtle tightening of his jaw was enough to catch Kol’s attention.

“Oh, here we go,” Kol muttered, leaning back with an exaggerated grin. “I know that look, brother. Don’t tell me you’re already regretting letting her go.”

Klaus shot him a glare but didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he swirled the bourbon in his glass, his mind clearly racing.

Rebekah smirked knowingly from her seat. “Kol’s right. You’re absolutely itching to follow them, aren’t you? I mean, come on, Nik. She’s fine. Landon might be a nervous wreck, but he’s harmless.”

“Harmless is hardly a guarantee,” Klaus replied, his voice sharp but controlled. “She’s my daughter. My little wolf. And she’s out there with a boy who looks like he might faint if he so much as brushes her hand. I won’t just sit here while she’s.-“

“Happy?” Hayley interrupted, raising an eyebrow as she leaned against the armrest of her chair. “Come on, Klaus. She’s earned this. Let her have her moment without you breathing down her neck.”

“Breathing down her neck?” Klaus repeated, feigning offense. “I am merely… keeping an eye on her. Protecting her. It’s my job.”

“It’s called parenting,” Elijah said calmly, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “And sometimes, Niklaus, parenting requires a certain degree of trust. Y/n is perfectly capable of handling herself.”

“But Landon isn’t,” Kol chimed in with a laugh. “You saw him! The poor boy could barely string two words together without looking like he was about to collapse. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he trips over his own feet before the night’s over.”

Freya smiled, shaking her head. “Nik, you have to let her go eventually. She’s growing up. Besides, she’s smart. You’ve raised her well. Trust her to make the right decisions.”

Klaus sighed, clearly unconvinced. He set his glass down on the mantel, his fingers drumming against the edge. After a moment of silence, he straightened, his expression determined.

“No,” he said firmly. “I’m not just going to sit here. Let’s go after them and watch.”

The room erupted into a mix of groans and laughter.

“Seriously, Nik?” Rebekah said, exasperated. “You’re going to stalk your own daughter on her date? That’s a new low, even for you.”

Hayley folded her arms, shaking her head. “Klaus, no. She’ll know you’re there, and it’ll ruin everything. Let her have this.”

“Oh, come on,” Kol said, already on his feet. “I’m with Nik. This could be fun! Imagine the look on Landon’s face when he realizes we’ve been watching him the whole time.”

“Kol, sit down,” Elijah said sternly, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone. “We are not turning this into a spectacle.”

Klaus ignored them all, already moving toward the door. “I won’t interfere,” he insisted. “I just want to ensure everything is… going smoothly.”

“‘Smoothly’?” Rebekah repeated, rolling her eyes. “Nik, you’re not fooling anyone. You want to scare the poor boy out of his wits.”

“Can you blame me?” Klaus said, turning to face them. “She’s my daughter. My only daughter. And she deserves the best. If he puts one foot out of line.-“

“Niklaus,” Elijah interrupted, his tone carrying the weight of authority. “Enough. Sit. Down.”

For a moment, Klaus hesitated, his jaw tightening as he considered his options. Finally, he sighed and returned to his spot by the fireplace, though he was clearly restless.

Kol snickered, flopping back onto the couch. “Fine, stay here and brood. But don’t come crying to me when Landon puts his hand on her waist during a slow dance.”

The growl that escaped Klaus was enough to send Kol into a fit of laughter, Rebekah shaking her head as she took another sip of her wine.

“Poor Landon,” Freya said with a chuckle. “He has no idea how close he came to being tailed by the entire Mikaelson family.”

“Not yet, anyway,” Kol added with a wink.

Klaus paced the grand hall of the Mikaelson mansion for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. His siblings and Hayley had resumed their conversations, casting amused glances in his direction as he restlessly drummed his fingers against the mantel or adjusted his cufflinks for no apparent reason.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of internal debate, Klaus came to a decision.

“I can’t do this,” he declared suddenly, grabbing his coat.

Everyone stopped, turning to him with varying degrees of exasperation and amusement.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Rebekah groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “Nik, what are you doing now?”

“I’m going to the dance,” Klaus said matter-of-factly, slipping into his coat.

Kol burst out laughing, nearly spilling his drink. “Of course you are! Can’t let the lad have a single moment of peace, can you?”

Hayley rolled her eyes, standing up. “Klaus, she’s fine. You’re going to embarrass her.”

“Embarrass her?” Klaus repeated, his voice full of mock indignation. “Nonsense. I’ll be discreet.”

Elijah arched an eyebrow, setting his glass down. “You? Discreet? Niklaus, that may be the most absurd thing you’ve ever said.”

But Klaus was already heading for the door. “She’s my daughter. I’ll be discreet enough. I just want to see her happy. Surely you all can understand that.”

Hayley exchanged a glance with Freya, both women sighing but ultimately letting him go.

“Just try not to terrify the poor boy too much,” Freya called after him.

When Klaus arrived at the dance, he stayed back in the shadows, blending into the edges of the crowd. His sharp eyes scanned the room until they landed on you.

There you were, standing with Landon in the middle of the dance floor, laughing as you spun around, the skirt of your dress twirling with you. Your face was glowing with joy, your smile brighter than he’d ever seen it. Landon was watching you like you were the only person in the room, his awkwardness melting away as he held your hand and moved along with you.

Klaus felt his heart swell with pride and love. This was the moment he’d been dreading and anticipating in equal measure. the moment when his little wolf began to spread her wings. He stayed rooted to his spot for a while, simply watching you enjoy yourself.

A soft smile crept across his face, the kind of smile that was rare for Klaus Mikaelson for his overprotectiveness, this was what he wanted. for you to be happy, safe, and cherished.

Eventually, you caught sight of him. Your eyes widened in surprise, and you giggled softly, excusing yourself from Landon. You walked over to where he was standing, raising an eyebrow.

“Dad, what are you doing here?” you asked, though your tone was more amused than annoyed.

Klaus shrugged, his smile never faltering. “I simply wanted to see my little wolf in her element. And I must say, you’ve outshone everyone here.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t help the warmth that spread through your chest at his words. “You’re not here to scare Landon again, are you?”

Klaus chuckled, shaking his head. “Not this time, love. Tonight, it’s all about you. And I must admit, seeing you so happy… it’s worth every moment of discomfort I’ve felt letting you go tonight.”

You smiled, leaning up to kiss his cheek. “Thank you, Dad. It means a lot that you’re here.”

Klaus placed a gentle hand on your cheek, his expression soft. “You’ll always be my little girl, Y/n. No matter how old you get, no matter who comes into your life, you’ll always have my heart.”

“Always and forever?” you asked with a teasing grin.

“Always and forever,my little wolf” he promised.

With that, he stepped back, letting you return to the dance floor. But this time, he didn’t feel the need to hover. Instead, he leaned against the wall, watching you laugh and dance with your friends, content in the knowledge that his little wolf was happy.

[nitewrighter]

My other hope for "My Adventures With Superman" is that their interpretation of Lex Luthor still has the big fabulous wavy red hair and the backstory with Clark where they're both from Smallville and were close friends. Like my mental image is that Lex shows up in Metropolis and is buying a building to house his up-and-coming startup, and Clark's like "Heeeeyyyy what happened to keeping the startup in Smallville? For the jobs? Like you talked about?" And Lex swings an arm around Clark like "Clark, Clark, Clark, buddy--I could not in good conscience set up shop there! You want me to gentrify Smallville? Bulldoze the poor little hardware store? No, man, those are simple farmers! Good, salt of the earth people! You know... morons!"

And the entire dynamic is that Clark was talking so excitedly about Lex to Jimmy and Lois to the point that they're jealous and suspicious when Lex shows up, like "Who is this guy? Clark is OUR buddy, what makes this guy so great?" but goddamn Clark is working his ass off to try and make sure they give Lex the benefit of the doubt, and to his credit, Lex actually does a lot to win them over. He praises Lois's journalistic ambitions and points out new leads to her, and it turns out he's one of Jimmy's loyal "Flamebird" viewers and thinks Jimmy should get into podcasting. But it's also like... the more time they're spending together, the more red flags Clark is getting. But everyone seems happy so why rock the boat? So he just tries to laugh and go along with things... But eventually everything culminates into a collective group realization of "Wait a minute... this guy's a dick!"