#my back is fucking killing me from standing in heels trying to pose for this hfffff idk if it was worth it

[coridallasmultipass]

The devil Dirk on your shoulder.

Silly quick cosplay before Halloween night is over, inspired by a Dirk comic I saw earlier this month. (X)

[silco-fckr]

~ He Came In The Night ~ SIRIUS BLACK X YOU (?)

Trigger warnings: MINORS DNI, Sirius Black Sass, Fingerfucking, Heavy touching, Both of them orgasm, #yay he found the clit, HOGWARTS IS A UNIVERSITY IN THIS FIC OOPS I FORGOT TO ADD

This is part of a fic I stopped writing a while back. I'm posting this to see if anyone would have any interest in me picking it back up again. It's eventually Sirius x Remus x James Potter's Sister/you if you want?

I awoke to several pounding knocks against my door. When they didn’t stop, I rolled out of bed and walked blindly to the door, grasping around for the handle. “James? What is it?” I asked, cracking the door open very slightly, so the light that was always on in the hallway wouldn’t blind me even further. The face staring back at me wasn’t James. 

No, it was the stupidly, maddeningly, devilishly handsome Sirius Black, grinning down at me as he leaned against the doorway. Without even looking away from his face, I became achingly aware that he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and soon I felt a light blush spreading across my cheeks. 

He clicked his tongue. “You’re no better than a man, are you? I can practically hear your thoughts from where I’m standing.”

“Hmm, and what am I saying in my head? If it’s anything other than ‘it’s too early to be awake, and if you ever do this again I’ll kill you,’ then you’d be wrong.” I went to shut the door in his face but he quickly stopped me, his hand shooting out and grasping my wrist through the gap in the doorway. 

“Don’t you want to hear what I was going to say? What if it was an emergency?” He asked, a fake tone of hurt in his voice. 

“I’m going back to bed,” I said grumpily, turning on my heel and walking back into my room, not caring if he stayed or left.

“Perfect! I was just about to ask you if I could come too,” he said, strutting into my room right after me and shutting the door behind himself. 

“What? Are you crazy? You’re surrounded by three people who would kill you if they ever saw us together,” I said, stalking forward and placing one hand on his chest and trying to push him towards the door, except he didn’t budge. 

He grinned lazily. “Aw, come on. Your parents would never kill me. They love me more than you! And I’m just choosing not to think about James right now.”

I glowered at him for a few seconds before letting my hand drop to my side. I let out a small breath. “Fine. Just for tonight.”

“If you say so,” he said cheekily, grabbing my hand and dragging me over to my bed and waiting for me to lie down before he followed. “Touching? No touching?”

“Minimal touching. As little as you can,” I said. “I don’t want Remus smelling us on each other tomorrow. He always looks so bothered by it, even if he says he’s not.”

“You know why,” Sirius said, letting one of his broad hands slip under my sleep shirt and caress the soft skin of my stomach. He posed it like a statement, but it hung in the air like a question. 

“Yes, I know why. I’ve let him know that I have no problem with him. . . the way he is, and that you don’t have an issue with it either, but he’s very stubborn.” I said, gasping softly as Sirius’s hands brushed over my chest before pinching each of my nipples until they were brushing against my shirt, almost uncomfortably. I arched my back into his clothed cock, and shuddered at the warmth of it pressing into my ass. 

“It’s a shame we can’t fuck,” Sirius whispered, his voice filled with lust. “I’ve wanted you all summer.”

“Have you?” I said, raising an eyebrow he couldn’t see. Last year at Hogwarts, the most we’d been was friends-that-would-fuck-on-occasion. I had wanted him too, but I wasn’t willing to admit that. I turned around to face him, wrapping one leg around his torso. “I suppose I can allow a little reward for all of that waiting, then.”

He laughed softly as one of his hands snaked down in between our bodies to pull my shorts to the side and rubbed my slick pussy, pinching and teasing my clit until I had to bury my face into the side of his neck to hide my suppressed moans. “I suppose I’ll allow you acting like you’re the dominant one here, when you’re clearly not.”

“Who says?” I said breathily, as he stroked my lower stomach sensually while his other hand pumped two of his fingers in and out of my slit rather roughly. 

“Me, of course. Come.” He said, grinning sharply as he curled his fingers suddenly, using his thumb to press down on my clit as an unexpected and rather strong orgasm rushed over me. It was no sooner than I had come down from my high when he was positioning his cock at my cunt, the small amount of fluids pearling along his tip mixing with my fresh orgasm as he slid inside me with one, smooth thrust. 

He must’ve anticipated the moan I would make, because he quickly bent down to cover my sounds with a deep, searching kiss that could’ve gone on for ages if he let it. With one hand in the curve of my waist, and the other holding my thighs spread open, he thrust into me at his own desired pace, occasionally breaking the long, sweet kisses to lick and suck around my breasts. “I missed you, Aurora.”

“Missed me? Or missed fucking me?” I asked, my toes curling as he bit the side of my breast. 

“Silly question. I missed both you and fucking you,” he said, brushing a piece of hair from my face as his thrusts got faster and deeper, which meant he was about to cum. “Which is why I’ll be taking full advantage of sixth years having their own rooms this year. I can– and will, do anything I want to you without the risk of someone walking in. With your consent, of course.”

“Like what?” I asked, looking up at him curiously, as he bit back a loud moan. “What will you do to me?”

“I’ll tell you this. . . I did some shopping over the summer– with you in mind.” He said raspily, finally releasing to whatever image he had in his head and filling me up with his cum.

I said nothing to this, but not because I was scared. I was curiouser than ever at what he had in store for me. After a few more orgasms on both of our parts, given and received, we cleaned up as best we could without turning on the showers and waking everyone up, and then went to bed.

banner from: https://editsnocturne.tumblr.com/post/656903127950327808/sirius-black-headers-like-or-reblog-if-you-saved

[all-the-things-2020]

Late Night Talking - Chapter Ten

Summary: The aftermath of the movie premiere.

Word Count: 3150+

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: mentions of parent death, issues with body image

Tag list: @rhoorl @avastrasposts @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @gwendibleywrites

We slept late the next morning. It was after nine when I crawled out of bed to use the bathroom. Dieter was still passed out cold, lying face down with his face crammed into a pillow, his bare ass poking out from under the covers. I took a look at myself in the mirror and wished I hadn’t. My hair was sticking up in all directions and there were bags under my eyes. It was a far cry from my red carpet look.

I decided to take a shower and start over with my hair, rather than try to tame it the way it was. When I got out, I slipped into a pair of leggings and a t-shirt, deciding to forgo a bra, at least for the time being. It was going to be a lazy day, after all.

Dieter was still asleep. I leaned over the bed to cover him up and he grunted. “Why are you so obsessed with my butt?,” he mumbled.

”I’m not obsessed with your butt,” I told him. “I just didn’t want it to catch cold.” I tucked the comforter around him and patted his bottom. “Go back to sleep, Deet. You’ve earned it.”

”What time?”

”Doesn’t matter. Go to sleep.”

He didn’t argue with me. I knew the press junket had been stressful and tiring. He deserved to get some rest. 

I found my purse in the living room and pulled out my phone. I’d managed to remember to turn it off last night, so the battery was still at 65% when I powered it on. All my apps were lit up with notifications, but I went first to my texts. 

SAM: You look GORGEOUS!!!!

ME: Aw, thanks. It’s all thanks to the stylists. Did my hair and makeup and everything. Felt like a giant Barbie doll. LOL

It was close to midday back East, so I knew she was probably at work and wouldn’t respond right away, so I jumped over to Instagram. I followed the studio’s page and I knew they would have posted photos from last night. 

There were several pics from the red carpet, including one of me and Dieter. It was weird seeing myself all glammed up, standing beside him as he posed effortlessly for the camera. I could see that I was a bit stiff and awkward, despite the elegant dress and high heels. Still, I looked nice. Not bad for a first time, I thought. Then I started reading the comments.

She’s OLD.

Come on, girl, at least dye that gray hair. Woof.

Thought Bravo had better taste than that. 

Def a publicity stunt. Prob trying to hide that he’s gay AF.

If they think we’ll fall for that, he needs a new publicist. Lots of actresses they could have hired to help his image. Barf.

I think she looks nice. For a middle aged woman. 

There were positive comments, of course, many of them, but my eye went right to the negative ones. After all, most of the positive comments were simple heart emojis or “they look so cute” or other generic messages. The negative ones were more pointed.

I closed Instagram. Twitter would be even worse — there were so many trolls on there that I hardly ever posted anything anymore. Maybe tumblr would be kinder. I was wrong.

There were several posts under the hashtag “dieter bravo” that displayed one of the Getty photos from the night before and had commentary along the lines of “I’m glad he’s so happy” and “Aww, they made it red carpet official” but there was also lots that claimed to be insanely jealous of me for being beside him.

Oof, not to be that girl, but I could pull off a red carpet look better than that, just saying.

Not sure what he sees in her, but you do you, Dieter.

He looks AMAZING as always. Wish she’d worn something better.

She looks like she doesn’t want to be there. I’m sure it’s overwhelming and all but at least look happy to be next to him. I’d kill to be on the red carpet with him.

Ugh, I hate her, lol. Seriously, does anyone else think he’ll be back on the market soon? She is so not his type. Dieter fucking Bravo is a party boi.

I could feel tears stinging at the back of my eyes. It was silly — I knew they were making the comments out of jealousy or sheer assholery — but it was like being teased or excluded on the playground in elementary school. It still hurt.

Fortunately, my phone pinged with an incoming text.

SAM: Those stylists couldn’t have done it without something amazing to start with — YOU! I am so proud of you, chickie! You rocked that red carpet. And Dieter 🥵Don’t know how you manage to survive around him without spontaneously combusting. Dude is HOT.

ME: You don’t know how badly I needed that, chickie! Been looking at comments on social and people are brutal.

SAM: Fuck them. I’ve been bragging on you all day. Everyone thinks you look fabulous. Trolls gonna troll.

I smiled. Leave it to Sam to cheer me up. Then another text came in, this time from Simone.

SIMONE: Girl! You were on fire 🔥 last night. Your pic is all over campus. Kids are all planning to go see the movie with Miss Emily’s boyfriend this weekend. Eileen had such a sourpuss when I saw her, lol. 

ME: Thanks! Been seeing some haters online so glad the kiddos got my back. And I’m ROTFL over Eileen 🤣

SIMONE: One of my kids was IRATE over some of the stuff people were saying about you. She was going OFF! I didn’t even know she knew where the library was, lol. If a 15yo can see through their b.s., so can you.

“Hey.” Dieter came stumbling out of the bedroom with his hair sticking straight up and one hand in his boxer shorts scratching his ass. If only the fans could see him now!

”Hey yourself,” I said. “You need coffee?”

He nodded as he shuffled toward the kitchen island. “I got it,” he said. “You looking at photos from last night?”

”I was, but people are mean. Then I got a couple of texts that cheered me up.”

”People are fucking assholes online,” he said as he dumped water and coffee grounds into the machine. He slopped water onto the counter but didn’t wipe it up. He was messier than usual when he was only half awake. “First thing Carmen told me when she signed on was never read the comments.”

While the coffee was brewing, he fished his phone out of his pants, which were draped over one of the dining room chairs. He slumped onto a stool at the island and started swiping. “You looked so good last night,” he said. Then he yawned and scratched his head. “Anyone who says different has their head up their own ass or is just jealous. Or both.” 

The scent of coffee wafted through the air and a shaft of sunlight lanced through a gap in the vertical blinds. The kitchen was illuminated with golden light and Dieter’s hair became a halo of fire around his head, just for a second. Who gives a fuck what Prissy McDickface on Instragram thinks? I’m the one here with Dieter, watching him smile at pictures of us while he’s waiting for his coffee. And if Dieter could smile before his first infusion of caffeine of the day, I knew he was truly happy. Because of me.

*******************************************

The movie was a hit. It was number one at the box office that weekend, and Dieter spent most of Saturday afternoon fielding phone calls and texts from Carmen and his agent. He looked every inch a Hollywood star as he sat on a lounge chair beside the pool with his Ray-Ban sunglasses on and his phone up to his ear. 

“Yeah, set it up,” he said. “Can’t hurt to meet with them.” He looked at me over the tops of his shades and winked.

”Shit, I can’t believe all this,” he said when he’d hung up. “Carmen has ten journalists lined up to interview me. And half of them are from legit outlets, not just bloggers.” He laughed. “Who knew a twenty minute part would get so much attention?”

We had skimmed some of the reviews online and most of them had been positive. Many of them mentioned Dieter’s performance as one of the highlights of the film; several had used the phrase “Bravo’s back.”  

“And David has two meetings booked with producers this week,” Dieter continued. “I don’t want to get ahead of myself but this might be the thing to get the ball rolling again.”

“I hope so,” I said. I knew that Dieter really wanted to get back to the level he’d enjoyed earlier in his career, where he was taken seriously as an actor. He’d taken just about any part the last few years, just to keep the money flowing but while movies like Cliff Beasts might be popular with fans they weren’t taken seriously by critics. And he admitted he’d been phoning it in before he’d gone to rehab. This film was the first project he’d worked on since and apparently he’s done a very good job. 

“Just don’t get too famous and forget about the little people like me,” I added.

“I will never forget about you,” he said seriously. “And you are definitely not one of the ‘little people’ in my life. You’re huge, baby.”

“Yeah, that’s what some of the trolls online are saying,” I joked.

“Fuck them. I’ve been with skinny women and it’s like hugging a skeleton. You’re real, Em. Nothing fake about you. Which is one of the many, many reasons that I love you.”

******************************************

We had finally finished off the leftover Chinese food, so we decided to go out for dinner Saturday night. Nothing fancy, just a little hole in the wall Mexican place that Dieter was fond of, and not just because the food was good. The owners were very protective of his privacy and didn’t laugh at his clumsy attempts at Spanish. His father’s parents had been born in Ecuador, and he still had some distant cousins in South America, but Dieter and his family had only ever spoke English.

”My dad can get by pretty well,” he’d explained to me once. “He does business with one of his cousins who lives in Buenos Aires, and he sometimes visits his aunt in Santiago, but Freddy and I never learned. Hell, I took French in high school just to fuck with everyone. Freddy took German, of course.”

Although they’d come from Ecuador, Dieter’s grandparents were descended from German and Italian immigrants. “My dad’s grandpa Antonio Bravo married one of the Diefenbach girls,” Dieter had explained. “Huge Romeo and Juliet vibes there. The two families were rivals in the button business.”

My own skill in Spanish was limited to the Spanglish I’d picked up by osmosis from living in Southern California (like Dieter, I’d take French in school, because I thought it sounded fancy). But everyone at Ramon’s was friendly and very patient with our attempts to do more than just ask for what was on the menu.

”Buenos noches,” our waiter said as we sat down at our table, tucked away in the back. ”El jefe said you get free margaritas because the movie is doing so well.”

”Gracias,” said Dieter. “Um, dos platos de empanadas, por favor. Y los margaritas.”

”Muy bien! And my sister in law saw the movie last night. She said tell you she really liked it if I saw you.”

”Tell her thanks, man,” Dieter had exhausted his capacity for Spanish already. He was still running on fumes from the press junket. I could see it in his eyes.

After a delicious dinner of empanadas and enchiladas — not to mention two extremely generous margaritas — we went back to Dieter’s place and collapsed on the couch.

”If I went there too often, I’d gain thirty pounds,” Dieter said, unbuttoning his pants. 

“The food is amazing,” I agreed, glad I was wearing stretchy pants. “You want to put a movie on before we succumb to the food coma?”

”You read my mind.” He grabbed the remote off the coffee table. We were only about twenty minutes into Jurassic Park when I felt his head slump onto my shoulder. He was out. I maneuvered him into a more comfortable position so he wouldn’t wake up with a stiff neck. I never saw the end of the movie. I was tired, too.

**************************************************************

We lay in bed, both of us wide awake at two a.m. after our nap on the couch. “Whatcha thinking about?” Dieter asked, his hand idly playing with my hair.

”Not much. Just feeling cozy. How about you?”

”I’m thinking how I could get used to this,” he said. “Dinner, falling asleep on the couch, lying in bed talking about stuff … I wish you didn’t have to go back home tomorrow.” He kissed my forehead. “You know you can move in any time you want.”

”It’s tempting but it would be a hell of a commute.” 

“Quit your job. Get a new one. There are plenty of schools. You’d still be in the same union, right? Still get your pension?”

I rolled onto my back. “Deet, it’s not that easy. There aren’t all that many school library positions out there and they pay well enough that people don’t leave. Or they’re part-time at elementary schools. And other positions … yeah, I could do other stuff, but your retirement is based off of your final two years salary. If I took a pay cut, I’d get less so I’d have to work longer.”

“Jeez, you sound like my dad and Freddy. ‘Be practical, Deiter. Plan ahead, Dieter. Invest wisely, Dieter’,” he grumbled.

”I have to be,” I said. “I only have myself to rely on. You know my parents didn’t leave me anything.”

Dieter sighed. “You aren’t alone, Em. You have me.”

”For now,” I said. “I want to believe this is forever, Deet, I really do, but I just can’t jump off the cliff yet.” I sat up, hugging my knees. “I know you think I’m being too cautious, and I know it probably hurts you to hear me say stuff like ‘for now’ when you want to hear ‘forever’ but …”

He sat up and put his arm around me. “I get it,” he said quietly. “I get you. And you’re probably right. I’m too much like my mom. I need you to balance me out.”

”You don’t talk about her much,” I prompted. I knew she had passed away not long after he’d won his Oscar, but that was public knowledge.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yeah, I’m still working through some shit in therapy,” he said. “My mom … she was an artist. Painting, sculpture, stuff like that. And that was the love of her life. Art. Creating. And once she created something, she moved on. She wasn’t interested anymore once a piece was done.”

I kissed his shoulder. “You don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to,” I said. 

“When she and Dad got divorced, she moved to New York City,” he said. “That’s why I went there for college. But about two months after I got there, she moved to Europe. So I went there after I graduated. She was in Italy, so I went to Milan. Then she moved to Madrid, then Stockholm — god, Stockholm was so freaking cold — and then I got tired of following her and came to L.A.” He laid his head on my shoulder. “I was going to visit her in Switzerland after I won the Oscar. She’d actually called me and said she was proud of me. But I had a movie to do first and … it was a car accident in the Alps. She and her latest guy were on their way to Venice and a dude in a Maserati blew a turn and crashed into them.”

”Oh, Deet, I’m so sorry,” My own parents had been ill before they passed, so I’d had some warning, at least. 

He shook his head. “Hey, we’re supposed to be celebrating this weekend, not confessing our darkest moments. So let’s talk about something happy. Like my bank account after the movie earns out and I start getting some checks. We should go somewhere. Romantic getaway.”

”I do have a week off for Thanksgiving,” I said. My aunt always invited me up to her place for Thanksgiving and I always declined and ended up at some friend or co-worker’s Thanksgiving dinner. It was not my favorite holiday.

”Hey, see, making plans for the future.” He nudged me with his shoulder.

”It’s like two months away,” I reminded him. “Not that far in the future.”

”Baby steps, Em. Baby steps.” Then he kissed me and we stopped talking for a while.

******************************************

As I was driving home on Sunday afternoon, my phone rang. I usually don't like to use the Bluetooth, because it distracts me from the road, but I recognized the number. It was Sam.

”Hey, Sam, what’s up?” She rarely called; we both preferred to text. Our grown up version of passing notes in class.

“Just checking that you’re still alive after spending three whole days with Dieter,” she said. Her tone was joking, so I knew nothing serious had prompted the call. “Really, I just wanted to hear your voice. I saw the movie and it just doesn’t seem real that you and Dieter are … I mean, it sounds stupid, but I had to make sure you were still you.”

”I get it,” I said. “Hey, I’m on the freeway right now. Can I call you back when I get home? We can have a good talk. I’ll tell you all about the dress and the red carpet and … maybe you can give me some advice?”

”You better not be thinking of breaking up with him, Em. He’s the best thing that’s happened to you in a long time.”

”No, no, kind of the opposite. Shit, use your signal, you asshole! Sorry, some dude in a Tesla just cut me off. I’ve got to hang up. Talk to you when I get home, chickie.”

”Stay safe, chickie.”

I ended the call and tried to concentrate on the traffic. It was an incredibly long and tedious drive to make every day. There was no way I could keep my job and be with Dieter more than just on the weekends. And I would be foolish to quit for a guy I’d only known for a few months. Right? 

I shoved the thought to the back of my mind. Sam would help me figure it all out. She always did. 

[innermuse24]

Deadpool Movie Fanstory:

'The Consquences of Messing with Cable's Time-Traveling Device and What it Brings with It'

-------------------------------------------

Notes:

Cable - Nathan Summers/Deadpool - Wade Wilson

Based on the end part of Deadpool where he pinches/steals Cable's time-traveling device.

-------------------------------------------------

PROLOGUE - When Deadpool Realises his Consquences Sort Of

Deadpool/Wade Wilson's P.O.V:

"WADEEEEEE!!!!?"

I'm in deep shit.

Literally deep shit at the moment having no time to react as Colussus - big, metal hunk of strength - grabs hold of me by the swords to pull me backwards to very pissed off Cable standing in the foyer of the X-Mansion hands on his hips glaring at me with both his normal eye and the golden one then flings me down at the older man's feet.

"Oh, hey…Cable. Miss me?" I ask him, rolling to lay on the floor in seductive pose with arm resting on my thigh for some reason making him glare at me - golden eye flashing heavily - and give a sheepish grin even though he can't see it because I'm wearing the red mask.

"Do you have any idea of what the fucking hell you have just done!!!!? You've just made sure you don't exist."

Oh, shit!!!!? I really should of listened to my inner reason voice. Oh, wait….I don't have one. Dumbass.

WAIT!!!? WHAT HAVE I DONE!!!!?

-----------------------------------------

PART 1 - Cable Confused about his Feelings and Deadpool just Winging it as they Go Along the Way to Fix One's Timeline

Deadpool/Wade Wilson's P.O.V:

Megasonic-Teenager-Warhead or whatever her name was seems to want to kill me slowly and painfully and she may have to get into line because of Cable as I find myself staring at my de-aged self without looking like what be considered by a friend "When a pineapple had sex with Avocodo." and more like when I met Wolverine after he called "That you, Wade. I see Stryker managed to shut you up." making me remember that soon the all of me would disappear if we didn't hurry to sort it out.

This would be so embarrassing. It would mean I would have to make sure my parents met, fucked and soon had me appearing in their already hectic lives then meeting Vanessa, falling in love and killing what-his-face again then saving Russel from being killed by Cable from the future, which Cable - The one standing at the doorway right now. Yeah, I know Stalkerish don't you think or does he like my ass in red? - says I will have to face himself alone and that may just help my timeline realign itself.

"Are you just going to stare at yourself in that mirror like…the Diva you are or ARE YOU GOING TO FUCKING HURRY YOUR ASS OVER!!!" Cable shouting the rest of the words, meaning he is still pissed as hell at me for messing with his Time-travelling device.

"Okay, calm yourself, Honey. I'm just coming, let me apply my makeup; lace thongs and corset then high-heels and we're ready to go." I reply, seeing cough heavily to hide…Was that a blush on Cable's face?..and placing the mask back down skip up to him for some no-apparent reason but because I feel like it.

"Shut up. Just let's go." He say, trying not to look me in the eye and leaning close to him go to peck him on the cheek when he places his hand on my face stopping me making me give a muffled protest at it.

----------------------------------------

Afterwards with Dopinder - my dear cinnamon murder muffin - driving us in what was now affectionally called the Deadpool-Mobile, I look back at Cable looking out of the back passenger window with his large, muscular arms crossed over his chest.

Deciding he needs some company, I unbuckle my seat-belt to clamber into the back wriggling slightly in my process to squeeze through the gap between

Settling down, I smooth any crinkles in my suit and moving myself lay my head down on his lap making him tense slightly then flick his gaze down to me, clenching his fist slightly only to sigh heavily and un-clench it.

“I don’t why I even bother.” He says, surprising me at his choice of words that sit up to twist myself around to face him seeing how he's blatantly refusing to look at me. "You....just decided to take it and think what 'It be good idea to change the past, let's go' and not realise....fuck it....why do I put up with you."

"Uhh, Cable.....maybe it's because you enjoy my company." I tell him jokely, only to see he's blushing that sitting myself up, lean closer to check I'm actually seeing his face turning a wonderful shade of red.

The punch in the face is expected that comes straight after I lean into his personal space feels like 'Worth it' hearing Dopinder signing softly in the driver's seat at the antics going on in the back of the taxi.

-------------------------

[arhvste]

001 MIYA ATSUMU X SHUT UP AND DRIVE SERIES

++ MSBY GARAGE

❝ i've been looking for a driver who is qualified, so if you think that you're the one step into my ride ❞

dt — @rintaroll

“so, what’s it gonna take for ya to praise me a little more?”

you rolled your eyes and huffed, brushing the setters hand off your shoulder.

“shouldn’t you be more concerned about, oh i don’t know, your fans, interviews, your teammates?!” you snapped back as atsumu held both his hands up in defence.

the crowd was loud and still bustling as the black jackals most recent victory continued to stir excitement through the mass of spectators in the high stands. fans were still yelling and chanting as interviewers scrambled to grab the attention of any player they could. multiple had pried for atsumu in fact, alas, all his attention was solely focused on none other than his teams promotional manager; you.

you were chatting to the teams photographer and uploading updates and playbacks onto the teams twitter at the time the blond had bounded his way over to you and here you were, faced with the famous setter leaning on the advertisement boards lining the court diving you from him.

“miya,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose as you shook your head. “go and talk to some interviewers and get yourself back over to the others, i’m begging you at this point.”

“beggin’ huh?” a boyish smirk tugged at his lips and his eyes stayed locked on your own.

“not in the way your disgusting little mind is thinking of.” you shot back, stepping back from the board and looking back down at your phone where the teams twitter was currently blowing up.

atsumu snickered before standing up straight.

“whatever ya say doll, just hold up a little longer and i’m all yours again yeah?”

you scoffed and shook your head at him before shooing him away.

“i’d prefer you weren’t.”

“lyin’s a bad habit.”

“would you just go already?”

atsumu laughed as he turned to make his way back to the rest of his awaiting team. waving a hand back at you, he turned to face you before shooting a wink your way as interviewers and photographers flooded the scene.

this was a typical exchange of interaction between the two of you. ever since you had been introduced to the team as their promotional manager, atsumu had fixated his interest outside of volleyball onto you. 7 months later and nothing had changed despite his never faltering persistence.

you sighed as the photographer laughed softly before turning to his own laptop to import more photos for you to upload.

“he seems to have a soft spot for you.”

you groaned and switched your phone off, leaning back on the advertisement boards atsumu himself was previously leaning against.

“he’s such a handful.” you stated as the photographer chuckled.

“looks like he wants to be one for you though.”

“i wish he didn’t” you muttered back as the photographer smiled earnestly at you.

“i think we both know that’s a lie, we’ve been working together for a while and i don't think this dread to spend time with him is as evident as you make it out.”

you whined as you sent a soft frown his way.

“trust me, it is.”

“whatever you say.” the man teased back before clicking on the last images to send your way.

thanking him and making your way over to the teams manager and coach, you stood beside them in front of the msby boys and watched them as outlet interviewers shot questions their way.

multiple flashes went off every few seconds as each player flashed a handsome smile to the camera. you scanned over the team and bokuto was excitedly chatting and laughing with the interviewers. you smiled softly to yourself as you let your eyes wander from bokuto over to sakusa who was trying his best to avoid contact with his sweaty teammates and ‘annoying’ interviewers. it was clear he wasn’t as thrilled to be there as the others so you sent an apologetic look his way and mouthed to him he only had to put up for roughly 10 minutes more. he silently wallowed in self pity at that, but that quickly turned to agitation as atsumu dominated your vision.

slinging an arm over sakusa, (much to the latters disgust), atsumu grinned at you and flashed a smirk for a brief second before turning back to give the cameras a toothy grin.

your face dropped back into a frown as atsumu feigned hurt from a distance.

the team manager laughed as she elbowed you gently.

“interviewers might have a little more luck keeping him focused if you were the one interviewing him.”

you raised an eyebrow as you turned to face her.

“he’s like a puppy.” you stated bluntly as the manager laughed.

“a lovesick puppy.” she corrected as you faked a gag.

“why you all think he’s head over heels for me is way beyond me.”

the manager smiled before nudging for you to look at the attractive setter.

“because it's obvious. you break the boys heart every week.”

you watched as atsumu happily chatted to interviewers and forced sakusa to begrudgingly pose for photos and join in with him.

“he’s not my type.” you said as your eyes stayed focused on the blond.

“right.” the manager teased before smiling over at the team's captain, meian, her own boyfriend.

you smiled at the pair’s interaction as the team dispersed after thanking interviewers and fans for their support.

meian wandered over to the manager who happily placed a kiss to her cheek before guiding her off towards the back of the stadium, hand lingering on the small on her back.

you sighed as your own thoughts invaded your headspace. it wasn’t that you didn’t want a boyfriend. you just hadn’t met anyone worth the time yet.

well, that was your go to excuse to tell everyone anyway. the truth was, you didn't even know the limits to your own standards, you just knew they were high when looking for a potential partner.

the feeling of a heavy arm slung over your shoulder forced you back into reality as your eyes flickered up in surprise.

“miss me?” the hot breath and familiar voice teased the shell of your ear as you scowled.

“you wish.” you snapped back as you attempted to duck out of your offender's grip.

“ah-ah, yer coming home with me today.” atsumu smirked confidently as you hissed at him to get off.

“says who?” you argued as the setter looked down at you smugly.

“me.” another voice joined the conversation as you turned to face the owner of it.

your eyes met the coach who was looking at you slightly sympathetically.

“huh?”

“sorry,” the coach began, hand holding the back of his neck. “i know i said i’d take you home, but my wife has some errands she needs me to pick up before getting home and i’d hate to have to drag you along with me this late at night.”

you groaned but nodded understandably.

“luckily, atsumu here was kind enough to offer to be your ride back home.”

“lucky me.” your voice dripping with thick sarcasm as atsumu ignored it.

“yeah, lucky you indeed. do ya know how many girls would kill to be in yer position right now?” atsumu teased, arm still firmly made at home around your shoulders.

“let them kill me.” you glared at him as he gasped playfully.

“ya don’t mean that.”

“i do.”

“you don’t.”

“just take me home already i’m tired!” you threw your arms up as atsumu grinned.

“sure, give me a few minutes to grab my stuff and i’ll meet you round the back of the building, yeah?”

“whatever.”

you made your way towards the back exit of the stadium and were met with other members of support for the team who were waiting for the boys to grab their things from the locker rooms. some players opted to shower after matches while others waited til they got back home. atsumu fell into the category of players who waited until they got home. this was both a blessing and a curse. you wouldn’t have to wait for him for too long, but you would be met with a sweaty atsumu.

this wasn’t technically a bad thing, atsumu had a habit of getting rid of the smell after each match with an expensive cologne you’d never even attempt to pronounce, but he happened to somehow be a little more attractive when he looked worn out and disheveled. you hated yourself for thinking such a thing but you just couldn’t help it. he was annoyingly attractive and it made his personality a little more dislikable in your opinion.

you waited for around 10 minutes before you were met with boisterous laughter ringing through the spacious lounge by the exit.

atsumu and bokuto came striding out from the hall directing towards the locker rooms, gym bags in their hands and ruggish hair that would need taming again eventually.

you sighed as you waited for atsumu to approach you. he bid his goodbyes to everyone and sent a look at bokuto's way. the ace held a thumbs up at atsumu as the others in the lounge looked at each other giggling and smiling smugly.

you raised an eyebrow but shrugged it off as you felt a hand find its way on your waist.

“let’s get going then.” his voice strumming chords through your body as you shivered slightly.

atsumu led you out and down towards the underground garage used by players and staff members whilst at the stadium. you’d never actually seen atsumu’s car before so you had no idea what to be looking for, but atsumu’s hand remained firmly on your waist as he led you over to an array of expensive cars. mentally trying to guess what car belonged to the setter, atsumu watched with a small smirk etched on his face as your eyes scanned along each car. keys hooked around his finger, atsumu pressed the unlock button as your jaw dropped slightly.

of fucking course.

miya atsumu was the proud owner of a jet black 2021 chevrolet corvette with the number plate gracing it in all its glory ‘MIY4 13’.

you scoffed as atsumu’s smirk widened.

“so, ya gettin in or what?”

“into what? my one way invitation to death?”

atsumu snickered as he led you over to the passengers seat.

“i won’t kill ya, i promise.”

you looked back at him, handsome and sharp features making your eyes soften.”

“well, it’s not like i’ll be able to yell at you if you break that promise.”

“exactly.” atsumu grinned as you climbed into the luxury vehicle. the soft leather padding of the seats welcoming you as your weight shifted onto them.

you glanced around the interior as your eyes were met upon. various lit buttons caught your attention as a screen switched on as atsumu opened the drivers door. you were certain the car had way too many features but that’s what made it a luxury vehicle you guessed. the sleek black and red complimented interior was admired by you as atsumu watched your eyes dance around the car. his eyes softened as you visably relaxed a little more. your hand hooked across the firmly threaded seatbelt as you pulled it around you.

you looked at atsumu who’s smirk seemed to have faded. instead, a soft grin was painted across his face as he helped you click the belt securely in place.

“don’t kill me miya.”

“i’ll do my best.” he winked at you before pressing the start engine.

mentally chanting your last prayers, you accepted the position fate had put you in and did your best to stop the stirring of butterflies in your chest as atsumu placed his hand on the back of your headrest and pulled out.

well fuck.

as if he wasn’t attractive enough before, he sure as hell was now. your eyes widened and heart picked up it’s pace as the scent of atsumu’s signature cologne flooded your senses.

his sharp jaw and focused eyes, pointed in the direction of the rear window as he successfully pulled the car out the space. moving his hand back onto the wheel, atsumu turned to smirk at you as you gave him a pleading look. before you could open your mouth to speak, the setter slammed on the accelerator and the engines picked up its volume as your head was thrown back a little as the car sped out the garage exit.

“you little shit!” you cussed out as atsumu laughed as you sped onto the highway through the city.

“ya love the thrill don’t lie.”

“i’m not lying!” you protested as the flashes of bright lights flew past the window.

atsumu smiled as his right hand found its place on the middle of your thigh.

“miya!” you hissed as atsumu tilted his head momentarily your direction.

“ya can call me atsumu ya know?”

“i don’t want to!”

“for such a genuine person, yer so full of shit sometimes.”

you huffed as you gave up letting atsumu’s touch encourage the stir inside of you. you turned and glared out the window at the passing scene as atsumu hummed in satisfaction.

a few more moments of comfortable silence went by, nothing but the sounds of cars zooming past and the soft hum of atsumu’s own car’s engine.

you frowned and bit the corner of your lip as you peaked towards the blond whose eyes were fixed on the road.

“so,” you began, resulting in the player's eyes to flicker your way for a millisecond. “why are you so hooked on me?” you questioned.

you held your breath as you finally voiced the concern that had been playing on your mind for a while. you rarely had moments of privacy with the man despite his infatuation and demand to be around you.

“am i not allowed to be?” he challenged teasingly as he sqeezed your thigh slightly.

you wanted to force his grip off of you, you really did, but something about it felt so natural you just couldn't.

“miya.” you sighed and shook your head.

“atsumu.” he corrected as you turned to face him properly.

“look, you’re just my type. that’s all there is to it.” he replied simply,as if it was no big deal to him.

“and just what exactly is your type?” you quizzed as you pulled up at a traffic light.

slowing the car to stop for a while the light was red, atsumu turned his face to look at your own before he flashed that boyish grin you’d unknowingly grown rather fond of.

“you.”

and with that, the world threw you back into fast motion as the green light flashed, highlighting his face before he hit the acceleration again making your eyes widen.

“atsumu…” you sighed quietly as the adrenaline brought more life into his eyes.

it wasn’t that you hated atsumu. it wasn’t that at all. he was just someone you didn’t see yourself seriously with. someone so out there and demanding of the world. you had always envisioned yourself with someone a little more down to earth, someone with a stable job with a lowkey personal life, a person who took life at a comfortable pace. you had never seriously considered being with someone like miya atsumu. someone who demanded the world's attention, dominated every scene he was put in, who took life at the speed the highest the accelerator would go. someone so big, so bright. you never imagined someone like miya atsumu would take interest in someone like you. you were opposites stuck in an entanglement of professional lives.

out of every person in the world, the universe had decided miya atsumu would become the man who ticked the boxes to your unknown standards. you just hated to acknowledge it.

pulling off the highway, atsumu drove through the less busy roads as your apartment complex came into vision. half of you wanted the ride to be a little longer, but the other half of you couldn’t wait to lock yourself in your apartment away from the man who caused turmoil inside of you.

atsumu hummed as he pulled around the back of your complex. the roads were quiet and the soft lights of other buildings gleamed off the vehicle as the golden light flooded through the tinted glass of the windows, pulling attention to the boyish, but charming features of his face.

you sighed as he pulled the car to a stop and let the engine settle down. you stayed like that for a moment as the two of you sat there packed in the quiet parking lot.

“listen, I meant it, i really do like you.” he said as you studied his eyes for any signs of him being ingenuine; you couldn't find any.

your eyes softened as you leaned on the headboard.

“miy- atsumu.” you began quietly as his eyes admired your form. “it’s not that i don’t like you or anything, it's just- i don’t know if you’re my type.” you confessed as your heart hammered against your chest.

“well, you just called me by my first name, that’s gotta count for something right?”

you looked up at him and locked your eyes into his honest ones. you sat up and turned to face him as he took both of your hands into his.

“look, i get it, i’ve been annoying since day one-”

“-annoying is an understatement.” you cut in as atsumu playfully glared at you.

“rude. anyways as i was saying, i might’ve come across as a little too strong from the start, but there's just somethin’ about you. i just can’t seem to leave ya alone.” the blond confessed honestly as his warm, calloused hands held yours tightly.

“atsumu, i just don’t know.” you shook your head as he held onto your hands tightly. “i just don’t know what i’m looking for.”

“let me help ya find it in me then.” he pleaded softly, a small grin tugged at his lips.

you cast your eyes down to where your hands were being connected by him. the stir in your chest sped up as your heart was slamming against your chest at this point.

“atsumu i just-”

cutting you off, atsumu pulled your hands away from each other as he moved one up towards your jaw to cradle your face gently. dark golden eyes melting at the sight of you close up, atsumu pulled your face in closer to his and your heart just wouldn’t let you pull away. his lips finally met your own after what felt like an eternity and it was if yours were made to fit against his.

his hand moved towards the back of your neck as he encouraged you to move closer. you leaned closer letting your own hand find its way against atsumu’s broad chest.

the kiss deepened as you gave access to the setter’s tongue as he dominated your movements. small gasps and whines were heard in the silence of the parking lot as neither of you had it in your to pull away. atsumu’s hand was securely at the back of your neck with the other gripping your waist as you groaned at the slightly uncomfortable position.

pulling away, the two of you breathed heavily as you leaned back in the expensive leather seat as atsumu stared at you softly.

“what the fuck was that?”

“our first kiss as a couple.” atsumu teased but failed to stop the wide smile spread across his face.

“who said anything about being a couple?” you shot back as atsumu found your hand once more, lacing your fingers together tightly.

“your body language. you kissed back.”

“i-”

“msby setter miya atsumu as yer boyfriend, wow, arent’cha just the luckiest!”

you playfully hit his chest as he laughed.

“keep it up and that’ll be ex-boyfriend.”

atsumu’s eyes lit up as he grabbed your hand again and held it tightly.

“so ya admit it! i’m yer boyfriend!”

you giggled seeing how genuinely excited he was over it.

“for now.” you hummed as he pouted slightly.

you cupped his jaw and leaned to press a soft kiss to his cheek causing heat to rise to his face.

“let’s just, take this slow though okay?”

“don’t tell me that while sittin’ in this car.” he joked as you groaned against him.

you leaned back looking back into his bright eyes as his gaze softened.

“i’m kiddin’, we’ll go as fast as ya want, and i promise not to kill you on the way.”

you snickered as the blond beamed at you.

“i’m holding you to that.” you smiled as atsumu pulled your face in closer once more. leaning forward to better prepare yourself, you allowed yourself to melt into another deep kiss with the man you would now call your boyfriend.

you never saw yourself being with someone who took life at a fast pace. someone who demanded the world’s attention without verbally calling for it. you never saw yourself falling for someone like that.

but here you were, with the man who ticked all of those boxes easily. the type of man you insisted wasn’t your type, turned out to be the blueprint for your exact type; you just weren’t aware of it until miya atsumu insisted you did.

++TAGLIST! @crescenttooru @miss-angel-ash @sarahvvictoria @babierin @fxncyoomi @s0utien @toobsessedsstuff @omibaby @kenkodzu @sugabeaniee @lovesunas @slutawara @bunny-on-crack @shouyouorange @memorableminds @whootwhoot @yikes-buddy @sweetsamus

[beskarhearts]

Tangled (Javier Peña x reader)

Pairing: Javier Peña x gn!reader

Word count: over

Warnings: lots of cursing (reader has the mouth of a sailor), a little ~steaminess~, mentions of canon typical violence/getting shot, sexual tension

Summary: You and Peña were no strangers to being at each others throats but this argument went a little different than any other had.

Notes: This was cliche and self indulgent but I loved it and I hope you do too. Let me know your thoughts and opinions!! (also probably not going to turn this into a series but it isn't impossible ig)

________________

You charged towards the file room, feeling every ounce of your body flooded with anger as Murphy trailed after you, pitifully trying the stop the damage that was just about to occur.

"It didn't come from a bad place!"

You sporadically came to a halt, turning on your heels and pointing a finger right in Murphy's face, who had nearly crashed into you at your sudden movement. "Don't you dare try to justify this!"

Murphy's face was crumpled into a hesitant type of acceptance, still following you as you continued walking towards the file room, your anger radiating even in each harsh step you took. Once you reached the door, you slammed it open and nearly crashed it into Murphy as you threw it shut again, your eyes trained on the man you were directing every angry, foul thought at.

"Javier Peña, you fucking asshole!" you yelled, your pointer finger now directed at him as he turned to face you. You felt even angrier when he appeared to look at you tiredly at first, face twisted into an expression that perfectly read 'What now?' It didn't change until he registered your rigid body language and the way your face was a shade darker and your brows that were scrunched up.

Then his face dropped slightly and he looked over your shoulder at Murphy, who looked like a kicked puppy with the way he seemed to cower behind you. "You told her?"

Murphy winced slightly, trying to shrug away his concerns but his voice coming out empathetic. "She kind of interrogated me."

"Yeah. Y'know, because interrogations are part of the job!" you spat, eyes shooting venom at the brown-eyed DEA agent that stood in front of you.

He dropped the file he had held in his hand back in a box, placing his newly unoccupied hands on his hips and sending you a plain look. "Listen, it was nothing-"

"You know what else is part of my job, Peña?" you interrupted, allowing him no room to throw around pitiful remarks and false explanations of why what he did was okay. "Let me tell you since you have clearly forgotten: part of my job is catching the bad guys. Meaning I am fully capable of being on the field and getting my hands dirty!"

You took in a deep breath, your whole body feeling like it was on fire from the rage coursing through your veins. Peña let out a small sigh, rubbing at his face and his mustache as he looked at you through half-lidded eyes. "I know."

You let out an agitated huff, throwing your hands up and looking over at Murphy, as if saying 'get a load of this guy'. You turned back to the DEA agent, clasping your hands together. "Let me get this clear then. You are aware that is part of my job. And that this fucking case has become my whole entire life. Yet you neglect to notify me that tomorrow you are going to arrest one of these motherfuckers and don't put me on the God damn team!"

You probably should of quieted down. Surely people could hear you outside the thin walls of the room you were in but you paid no attention to that. Hell, let them gather outside the door and listen to how much of an asshole Javier fucking Peña was. It wasn't like they hadn't heard you two bicker and yell at each other before - it was practically a daily occurrence. You were always at each others throats and the smallest thing could tick you guys off but today was different. Today your anger was completely justified and directed at the exact right person.

"Why don't we all calm down and talk this over calmly?" Steve gently tried to suggest, always the voice of reason during times like these. Sometimes you would entertain his ideas but today was not one of those days.

"Fuck off, Murphy!" you snapped.

Peña redirected his attention to the blond-haired agent. "Give me a minute."

"Oh, you are going to try to magically explain this one away?" you ridiculed as Murphy left the room quietly, shutting the door gently and leaving you two alone.

Javier looked back at you, looking calm as ever and unaffected in every way. It only made your blood bubble even more and as he spoke, you felt your whole body clench up. "You need to calm down."

You hissed at that comment, literally hissed. "Oh, fuck off! You have no right to tell me to calm down. If somebody did this to you, you'd be tearing into their ass and acting like a bitch."

Javier couldn't argue that point, knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that not only was it true, but there was no way he could convince you it wasn't. It also was probably the worst thing to say in this given situation, always was something that tipped you off.

"I mean, the fucking audacity you have is unbelievable. Truly impressive." you started to ramble, still sending a deadly glare his way. "You think you are hot shit because you are Javier Peña and you are a DEA agent and the fucking man whore of Columbia. But I am just as good as you, Peña. Hell, I am probably fucking better!"

"You are right."

You froze as you heard his agreement, biting your lip as you tried to detect whether or not that was meant to be some sarcastic play to rile you up. But it appeared genuine which only confused you further. "Then why am I being excluded from extremely important events?"

"It's dangerous." Peña answered plainly, adding no additional details as if that was enough.

You scoffed, tilting your head at him. "No shit, Peña. No offense but no one becomes a DEA agent because it is a safe, secure job. So that doesn't explain why I wasn't included in this."

Peña shook his head, leaning against the rack of files as he looked back at you. You wanted to force him to look away, his stare making you uncomfortable but there was no way you were backing down. "It does. This one is particularly dangerous and I don't want you involved."

Your eyes widened as you took in this new information. "Oh, so you think I can't handle myself?"

"I never said that-"

"I can handle myself, Peña. I am a fucking adult and not to sound cocky, but a hell of a fucking agent. I am capable and I am strong!"

"I know."

"And I can handle this mission."

"I know."

"Then why the fuck did I have to find out from Murphy that I am not joining you guys tomorrow?" you yelled, feeling your body become slightly fatigued from all the anger but you still stood straight and tall.

"Because you care too much and you'll get yourself killed if that means nailing these guys." Peña said plainly. No hint of emotion or manipulation. Just an honest answer to an honest question.

You found yourself for the first time not feeling angry but slight bamboozled. It felt like the rug had been pulled under your feet. You were standing across fucking Javier Peña, who you were pretty sure had never seen take a single day off. "That is the most hypocritical thing I've ever heard."

Peña nodded. "Okay."

You rolled your eyes, feeling once again angry by the dismissal. "Well fuck off because I spoke to everybody and I am on the team tomorrow."

You began to turn towards the exit when the man firmly stated, "No."

You turned back around, an eyebrow raised. "Excuse the fuck outta me?"

"I'm in charge tomorrow and you aren't on." Peña said, a sliver of annoyance eeking out of his words as he looked back at you with a stern glare.

"Fuck off. If I want to go, I'll go." you fired back, arms crossing over your chest defiantly.

Peña stepped closer to you until he was a couple feet away, his voice lowering to a menacingly deep level. "I don't want you on tomorrow."

Your eyes were practically shooting bullets in his direction. "I know you don't fucking like me Peña, but stop acting like a school boy and get your head out of your ass."

"Maybe you are the one with your head up your ass, agent." Peña cooly said.

You tried to ignore the way he was looking at you (and the way you could smell his aftershave from here) and put your hands on your hips. "Fuck you, Peña. You don't want me on tomorrow because I am a better agent than you, you selfish prick."

"That isn't it." Peña said with a chuckle, shaking his head as if you were saying the stupidest thing he had ever heard.

"It fucking is, isn't it? You don't want me strolling into your operation and doing the job better than you. Can't have your huge fucking ego tarnished by me!"

"That is not the reason why!" Peña shouted back, feeling himself lose his temper slightly.

This was the Peña you were used to, the one you egged on and led into a battle of cruel words and hateful glares. "Oh, fuck off. That is absolutely why!"

"Maybe, just fucking maybe-" Peña cut himself off, his chest now heaving as he copied your pose, hands on his hips and body stood straight.

You couldn't help the small grin that grew on your face. "What is it, Peña? Say it. Don't punk out now when things were just getting interesting."

"You are a child." Peña spat back.

You chuckled harshly. "Look in the mirror before you start throwing insults around, Peña. Now what were you going to say?"

Peña stared back at you, your eyes locked together in a visceral manner. "I don't want you to fucking die."

You couldn't help the throaty laugh that erupted from your very core, your head thrown back as you looked away from him for the first time to try to gather your composure. "Oh, fucking please! Spare me. You have never given a shit for me!"

Peña shook his head, looking slightly deflated as he looked away from you. "Fuck off."

"Oh, don't act like that. I am just supposed to stand here and believe that this whole time you've secretly cared about my safety and you don't have me on the operation tomorrow in order to keep me safe?"

Peña looked back up at you and you nearly wavered from the look in his eyes. You couldn't handle it if it were the truth, which the look he gave you said it was, so you continued on doing what you did best. "I don't need anybody to protect me. Certainly not you, Javier Peña."

"I'm not trying to protect you."

You lifted up a hand emphatically. "So you didn't not put me on this because you don't want me to die?"

"Fucking hell, you are so frustrating." Peña yelled back, face red and eyes throwing daggers as he stepped even closer to you.

You didn't dare take a single step back. You would show no fear or weakness. "And you are such a walk in the park? I forgot about how the man-whore of Columbia was always just a pleasant-"

You were cut off by Peña lunging forward and for a split second you thought 'Oh, shit. I'm gonna have to kick Peña's ass.' That was until you felt a pair of rough, chapped lips press into yours mercilessly and a pair of calloused hands grab at the side of your face.

You stood still for a solid few seconds, your brain seeming to short-circuit until it slowly registered the undeniable truth of the situation: Javier Peña was fucking kissing you.

Well then push him off of you!

Except you didn't. For all intents and purposes, you should have. You should of shoved him off of you, yelled at him for trying to pull his 'sex god' card on you, and maybe even delivered a striking slap to his face, just for dramatic effect. But you didn't. You stood there completely still until eventually your hands reached for the collar of his jacket, roughly pulling him in until he was pressed so tightly to you that you didn't think there was an centimeter of distance between the two of you.

You felt him turn you, pushing you back until your back hit the same file cabinet he had been leaning against earlier. Your lips finally caught up with the rest of you, lips fighting dominantly against each other in a frantic battle. It probably wasn't the prettiest kiss but holy shit, you couldn't think of a time you had been kissed like this. The kiss was so striking but also so passionate, both of you fighting each other in the most deliriously addictive way. You couldn't ignore the smallest voice in the back of your brain asking you why you hadn't done this way earlier.

Eventually your tongues danced against each other, begging for even the smallest taste of each other like you were both addicts craving even the slightest taste from the bottle. His hands drifted away from your face to your hips, clutching them roughly and tightly but not hurting you in any way. Just gripping hard enough for you to feel them and feel the emotion.

Eventually, after what felt simultaneously likes hours but also mere seconds, Peña pulled away and holy fuck, how did he look so good? His lips were puffed and red, slightly wet from the sloppiness of the kiss. His eyes were hooded and looking at you in a way he had before but you had never been able to place, always mistaking the lustiness for hatred (and hold up, had it just been lust this whole time?). His jacket was still clutched tightly in your hands and you should of let go. Anyone could walk in and see him standing up against you on a shelf with your faces red and chests heaving but you couldn't even bother to care, your brain still reeling and your body betraying you, yearning for more.

"I'm going tomorrow." you said, still slightly out of breath.

Peña sighed, his warm breath fanning over you and smelling slightly of mint gum and stale cigarettes. "I know you are."

You nodded, glad to see his slow acceptance creep in. You slowly released the jacket, looking at how it had crinkled from how tightly you had pulled him to you. He backed up slowly, one small step at a time as his eyes still traced each others faces.

Part of you wanted to reach out and kiss him again, fight with him again in the most delicious way but the door opened and you both turned to see the tall, blond-haired agent you had both become closer with than you initially thought possible.

"Have you guys killed each other?" he asked, trying to joke but also hesitant to with how foul your mood had been.

You desperately pulled away from the shelf and shook your head, though not to answer him but in some desperate attempt to try to shake away the evidence of what just happened (despite the fact that it was imprinted on your mind). "No. I'm going tomorrow."

Murphy shared a weary look with Peña who just gave a short nod and began to walk towards the exit. "She comes. If she gets shot, its not my problem."

You and Murphy both watched him slip past, moving out of the room and down the hall, away from you. Murphy twisted his head to look back at you, shaking his head. "Based off his behavior, I'd say that went well." he sarcastically mumbled.

You tried to chuckle but it sounded fake and hollow, your mind too preoccupied. "Yeah. Super well."

Murphy gave a roll of the eyes, used to the two of you being frustrated with the other as he slipped away from the doorway. You followed him as you made your way out of the room, the room where you still comprehend what exactly had happened in it. "You must of really went after each other this time."

You nearly choked at Murphy's quip, your mind taking a moment to realize he was speaking rhetorically about your arguing. He had no way to know the violent dance your lips had done or the way you both had perfectly expressed arousal and hatred with your tongues alone.

You just hummed, pushing past Murphy to head to your desk so you could work and just forget what had happened. Forget it because it meant nothing.

[ericsangyeon]

black lace and birthday cake - l.sy

“Look so good yeah, look so sweet. Baby you deserve a treat.”

pairing: sangyeon x female! reader

word count: 2.8k

genre: suggestive, fluff

theme: sangyeon’s birthday gang au

warnings: SMUT!!, profanity, alcohol

a/n: hey guys! i’m back with my long awaited sequel! this can be read as a stand alone but it does take place in the same universe as my other story addicted. again please be nice i’m still not used to writing smut. this was also edited but there could be mistakes! enjoy it! -t :D

playlist moodboard 

-

“Do you have anything for Sangyeons birthday? It's in two days.” Kevin asks me while we are in the Starbucks line.

“No not yet. Honestly, I was going to cook him dinner or something. He's been too busy anyways.” I answer him as we move up.

“Boring!! You have been dating for how long? You should surprise him with something he would love.” Kevin says. All of a sudden his eyes widened. “Oh my gosh I have an idea!” He yells a little too loudly.

“Kevin Moon, I swear to god... But let's hear it.” I roll my eyes at him.

“You should dr- Wait, let me order first and then I'll tell you.” Kevin snickers and walks up to the counter, with me in tow.

After getting our drinks, Kevin and I started to walk around the mall. We’re killing time before our afternoon classes, and Kevin wanted to buy a pair of shoes for himself.

“You never told me what I should do for Sang’s birthday.” I nagged Kevin.

He smirked. “You should go to his apartment the day of, send him a picture of yourself in the lingerie your about to buy and then give him the best sex of his and your life” Kevin says proudly.

My eyes widened and before I can protest, Kevin continues his idea.

“I know you guys have had a crazy sex life. Don’t try to argue, it's obvious with all the turtlenecks you wear. He has been busy with the gang, and this will forsure make him come to you. Quite literally.” Kevin explains to me before taking my hand.

“I guess? I mean, I've been really horny lately and the combination of my vibrator and sexting does nothing for me.” I say to Kevin. He laughs and drags me into Victoria’s Secret.

“Ahh, this is exciting! You're gonna pick out some sexy lingerie! I swear, you’ll get Sangyeon coming in his pants before he even gets his hands on you.”

“Shut up,” I try to say but instead, I blush hard. We proceed to walk over to the lingerie section, as I eye the mannequins on display. Maybe this isn't such a bad idea after all.

-

November 4th. Sangyeons birthday.

The person looking back at me in my mirror was completely different. I had curled my hair into loose ringlets that rested on my face. I did my eyeshadow with a smokey dark colour, and left my lips bare, as it would all be removed anyways. On my body is a black lace push up bra that barely covers my breasts, with matching panties that highlight my ass. Attached to the underwear on both legs are garters that rest on my upper thighs. Pleased with how I look, I smiled at myself and prepare to leave.

I grab my overnight bag, as I probably will need it. I put on my silver heels and  black long coat, and I leave my apartment. On the way to his penthouse, I stopped at the bakery to pick up the cake I had ordered for him earlier today.

Pulling into Sangyeon’s private garage, I park my car and spot Younghoon, the lead bodyguard of the penthouse. I get out of my car and walk over to him.

“Good afternoon Ms. Y/Ln. Sangyeon isnt home.” Younghoon greets me.

“I know, thank you. I want to surprise him for his birthday!” I reply back, smiling.

“Oh okay! Well I’ll leave you to it. I’ll even stay on the garage floor for you.” He says with a hint of teasing.

I roll my eyes and laugh. “I’ll call you if anything goes wrong. Thanks Hoon, you're the best!” I flash him my best smile as he opens the elevator door for me and laughs.

When I get up to Sangyeons penthouse, I am greeted with no staff at all.

“I guess he sent his staff home today thinking he would crash at the mob house.” I think to myself.  Due to the high volume of work, Sangyeon has been staying at the TBZ house lately, which is why I never get to see him.

I reach his bedroom, and remove my long coat to hide in his closet. I prop my phone up on his night table, set up the camera to a timer, and proceed to take a risky picture of myself.

“I really hope this works.” I think to myself posing as the timer goes off. I grabbed my phone and my jaw dropped.

It was a picture of myself dressed in the black lingerie, kneeling on his bed. There in perfect HD, are my hard nipples poking through the bra, and my legs spread on my knees to reveal my pussy covered in black lace fabric connected to garders on my thighs.

It was great. I pulled up Sangyeons contact and sent him the picture.

“And now we wait.” I say out loud as I lean back into his bed.

-

Forty painful minutes later, my phone vibrates next me as I lay on his bed. I roll over to check that it is a message back from Sangyeon, which I open in anticipation.

I'm coming back early, you better be on the bed when I get home. The text read. My eyes widen, and a flash of desire and giddiness shoots through my body, almost leaving me breathless with arousal. I could feel my clit starting to ache with this wave of emotion.

Before I can even remove my panties to relieve the pressure on my clit, I hear the front door to the penthouse open. I jump and rearrange myself so that I'm sitting with my legs dangling from the huge bed. I hear him drop something, and his shuffling getting closer and closer to me. I'm about to call out Sangyeon’s name when the bedroom door swings open.

There Sangyeon stands, suit jacket off and the top buttons of his shirt undone. His eyes are on fire, travelling down my body like he's about to devour me. I stare back at him frozen, as I let myself be torn apart by Sangyeon’s gaze. Finally, his eyes meet mine, and his lips curve into a smirk.

“You're a bad girl.” He whispers.

“What did I do?”  I play innocent.

“You know, how you sent me that picture while I was in a meeting just to get me riled up. Do you know the effect you have on me? I could have embarrassed myself in front of the powerful European gang.” Sangyeon growls. He starts to walk towards me slowly, every step he took making me more aroused.

Sangyeon grabs my face roughly and crashes his lips on mine. The brown haired man pushes me down onto the bed and hovers over me. He kisses me roughly, entering his tongue into my mouth when I part my lips. My hands reach up to his shirt, undoing the buttons fast to reveal his beautiful upper body. I press my hands on his abs, making him gasp into my mouth. I didn't even realize Sangyeon had taken my bra off, until his lips left mine made their way down to my bare breasts.

“Your tits are beautiful.” Sangyeon coos, bringing his mouth down. He catches my left nipple into his mouth and sucks on it softly while using his hand to fondle with my right breast. I let out a loud sigh, as he switches to the right. But when Sangyeon starts to leave open mouth kisses down my stomach, I use this chance to flip him over, making me on top.

“Y/N, baby, I'm always on top. What are you doing?” Sangyeon asks me.

“It's your birthday, let me spoil you for once.” I reply mischievously.

“Baby its okay, I dont m- fuck!” He growls as I leave an open mouth kiss above his belt.

I smirk at him as I undo his belt, and remove his pants and boxers. Sangyeons huge cock springs out, hard and angry. I pump it twice before sinking my mouth down fast.

Sangyeon hisses a string of curses and reaches to grab my hair out of my face.

“Fuck baby slow down. I still want to fuck you later.” He snarls as I moan onto his cock.

Sangyeon takes my hair and motions my head up and down on his cock. I gag when it reaches the back of my throat, tears starting to form in my eyes.

“That’s it, princess. You take my cock so well. You're doing so well, baby.”  He murmurs under his breath, loud enough for me to hear.

Sangyeon grunts loud as I feel his hot cum hit my mouth. I swallow as much as I can, and pull off to meet his eyes.

“God, those eyes. They kill me.” Sangyeon whispers as he reaches over to my face and wipes off some of his cum that got on my lips. I smiled at him, but it was not returned.

“Now I'm in control, baby. Your fun is over.” Sangyeon says quickly before kissing me. He pulls off my lips slowly, lingering there.

“I want you to take your panties off and sit on my face. Let me taste that beautiful cunt of yours.” He says against my lips. I nod my head, feeling my giddiness come back.

Sangyeon repositions himself so that he's lying against his pillows. I stand up and slowly unbuckle the garter that was holding my panties up. I turn around and remove my lace underwear slowly, my ass in Sangyeon’s face.

Before I could even think, I felt his hands on my hips. Sangyeon lifts me up and places me on his face, mouth touching my pussy. Sangyeon presses an open mouth kiss onto my clit, and starts to lick and suck it fast.

“Ah Sangyeon yes!” I moan loud as my hands grip the headboard.

I begin to ride his face, grinding on his lips.  Sangyeon slaps my ass hard, gripping my waist and I think I am seeing stars.

“Right there, yes! Fuck I’m gonna cum.” I tilt my head back and moan, speeding up the pace. He proceeds to stretch my pussy out with his fingers, and adds two inside without any warning.

This is too much for me to handle. I scream as I feel myself cum all over Sangyeon’s mouth and two fingers. He removes his fingers and kisses my clit softly. I roll off of him, and try to catch my breath.

“You taste so good always Y/N.” Sangyeon praises and runs his hand through my hair

All of a sudden. Sangyeon picks me up and walks over to the huge glass window that overlooks the city. I felt the cold glass hit my bare back, which caused me to hiss at the contact.

As I tried to turn myself around to admire the view, my back is full on slammed against the glass window. Sangyeon holds my waist and enters my pussy slowly, letting me adjust to his huge size.

“You're so goddamn tight.” I hear him whisper. I wrap my legs around his torso, making it easier for us to both adjust.

I let out a moan to let him know he bottomed out. Sangyeon removes his cock from my pussy and slams back into me fast. I scream as I feel his fingers dig into my hip bones.

His thrusts become so fast quickly and I'm helpless against him. I wrap my arms around his neck and capture his lips in a messy kiss, moaning against his mouth.

“You like that princess? Everyone seeing me fuck your tight pussy against the window? Sangyeon grunts into my ear,

I moan back, too overwhelmed to answer. He slaps my ass and presses me harder into the glass.

“Answer me, brat.” Sangyeon hisses.

“Yes Sangyeon, oh my god!” I answer him with the only words I can think of.

I can tell his orgasm is close as he pulls me to him as close as possible and thrusts into me deeply.

“FUCK!” Sangyeon yells as I feel his cum enter my pussy. He still is fucking me hard, as I feel the familar knot in my stomach.

“Sangyeon!” I scream and grip his neck as I cum.

We both fall onto the bedroom floor. Sangyeon pulls out of me and cradels my shaking body into a hug. Out of breath and overwhelmed, I feel myself start to cry.

“No baby why are you crying? You did so well. So beautiful for me, always.” Sangyeon cooes into my ear while I sob into his chest.

I look up at him. “I didn't mean to cry, that was just so amazing.” I reply softly, making him chuckle.

“Cmon, I’ll run a bath for us.” Sangyeon says as he picks me up bridal style.

We leave his bedroom and walk to the guest bathroom. A huge jacuzzi style bath rests against a glass window. Sangyeon places me gently in the tub and turns the water on. He grabs the soap and shampoo from the cupboard, placing it next to the tub. He gets in as well, and moves me so my back is against his chest. I feel him start to lather shampoo into my hair as I start to doze off.

“I hope you liked your birthday gift. I missed you a lot and wanted to do something out of the box for you.” I say tiredly to Sangyeon as he pours water over my hair.

“You're my gift everyday. I know sometimes my job gets in the way.” Sangyeon sighed. “I wish it was different, trust me. I hope you know I love you so much.” He places a kiss on the crown of my head.

“I love you too Sangyeon.” I reply to him grinning.

Sangyeon helps me stand up so he can wash my body. As I stand up, I start to grimace from the dull aches on my waist and thighs. Sangyeon notices that and frowns as he puts soap on his hands.

“I hope I didn't hurt you that much.” He says while running his hands softly over the bruise forming on my right hip.

“Don’t worry. I like the pain.” I smirk as Sangyeon rolls his eyes and laughs, making me laugh as well.

After another 10 minutes of Sangyeon and I washing each other, we both get out of the bath and change into matching white robes.

“Go wait on the balcony.” I tell Sangyeon and kiss his cheek.

When I hear him close the balcony door, I go to his kitchen to grab the small cake I got for him, as well as wine and wine glasses. I place the cake and glasses on a tray and pour the wine. I grab the candles and matches I stashed in a cupboard and light them on the cake.

When I reach the balcony, Sangyeon opens the door for me, and his face goes shocked.

“Y/N you didn't have to do that for me.” He says.

I place the tray down on the balcony table.

“Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday to you. Happy birthday dear Sangyeon. Happy birthday to you.” I sang to him grinning.

He pulls me in for a back hug as he blows out his candles. I notice the sun is setting, so I remove myself from his grasp and turn around to watch.

Sangyeon appears next to me and takes my hand.

“What did you wish for?” I ask him looking straight ahead.

“Nothing. I already have everything I need here right now.” Sangyeon turns to me and brings my hand to his lips, kissing it softly. I roll my eyes and stare back at him.

“You're such a cliche.”

“You love it.”

I kiss him with so much passion. Sangyeon grabs my waist softly and kisses back the same, as I wrap my arms around his neck. We part slowly, pecking each other a few times

That night, Sangyeon and I spoon feed each other cake until we are both full. I end up falling asleep on the balcony chair. Sangyeon brings me to his bedroom, and tucks me in.

“I had a great day with you. Goodnight Y/N sweet dreams.” Sangyeon mumbles as he presses a kiss to my temple. He climbs into bed as well and wraps me in his arms.

I dream of cake, black lace, and my dream man, Lee Sangyeon.

i hope you enjoyed! sorry if it was rushed i wanted to get it out asap hehe

make sure to support the boyz on kingdom and vote on whosfan! :D

[realisticjojoxreader]

Jotaro beats the shit out of your boss 🥺🥺🥺

sorry this took so long lol

jotaro x reader (?), probably between parts 3 and 4, 1.1k

"This guy bothering you?" asks Jotaro, eyes flashing. He looks about ready to kill a man, which works out for you, honestly, because you have a man in desperate need of a gruesome end.

Your boss smirks that awful smirk of his and says, "No, we're all good here."

"I wasn't talking to you," Jotaro says bluntly. "I was talking to this one." He gestures toward you, and you feel yourself blush ever so slightly. Truth be told, he's never given you the time of day before this, despite your best efforts. You're not even sure if he knows your name. It's nice to have him acknowledge your existence after weeks of you subtly making goo-goo eyes at him. "This guy bothering you?"

Uh oh, you think, watching as your boss's face starts to get red and splotchy like it does before he blows his lid. He's going to kill Jotaro.

Jotaro could probably defend himself, if it came down to it, but you would still prefer things didn't escalate. It would be nice to see your boss get his stupid face beat in, though. That might rule, actually. The more you think about it, the more you kind of want it to escalate, because Jotaro would almost definitely kick your boss's ass, and that would fucking shred.

"How dare you speak to me like that!" shrieks your boss, obnoxious and ear-piercing as ever. "Get the hell out of my restaurant!"

"This isn't a restaurant," Jotaro points out quite fairly, "it's a coffee shop. And no, I'm not leaving. I already paid. I just need my other drink. Leave your employee alone so I can get Jiji's nasty coffee and leave."

In your wisest move of the day, you say nothing, skirting around your boss and trying to finish Jotaro's order. Professional legend over here.

Your boss, though, won't let it go, because of course he won't. He's a fucking moron and you hate his guts. "Absolutely not! I want you out of here right this instant or I'm calling the police! You hear me?! The police!"

"For what? I haven't done anything wrong. I didn't even curse at you. You can't just take my money like that."

"Out, out, out!" howls your boss, so angry that he grabs a bottle of liquid vanilla flavoring and hurls it at Jotaro, who lets it hit him right in the chest. You wonder why he doesn't dodge, because you know he can. You've seen him react almost instantaneously before, most notably when you nearly spilled hot coffee on his lap—he moved so fast it was like he teleported. Why not get out of the way?

The answer is this: Jotaro is now allowed to snap. Having been hit with something, having been attacked, having been assaulted, legally speaking, he's not the one who escalated. Now it's self-defense. Now he's free to beat ass. "You wanna take this outside? Fine." And with that he leans forward, grabs your boss by the collar of his idiotic polo shirt, lifts the man over the counter, and drags him out the front door. The casual display of strength makes you a little hot under the collar.

You quickly finish Jotaro's second drink and grab both of them with your sweaty hands. As soon as they're safely cradled in a paper tray, you hurry outside under the guise of giving Jotaro his order, but you know full well you're really going to gleefully watch your boss get his ass kicked. It's gonna fucking rule.

Outside, Jotaro and your boss are standing across from one another, both doing weird poses that look worryingly unstable. You wonder if a freak gust of wind would be enough to knock one of them off balance—with the way your boss's knees are positioned, you're almost sure it would be. How is that even anatomically possible? And don't even get me started on Jotaro, who's leaning back like the goddamn Tower of Pisa and pointing like he's Phoenix fucking Wright. Are you an insane people magnet? You thought Jotaro was normal, for Christ's sake, but now he's just yelling in the street and doing some kind of elaborate LARPing.

When you came out here, you expected to see someone getting punched. You did not expect to see two grown men just stand and scream, flailing wildly as if they're dodging imaginary punches. Maybe you should go back in and empty the tip jar while your boss is otherwise occupied.

Then, it happens. "Fuck this," says Jotaro, before rearing back and punching your boss square in the face. Something cracks. The sound echoes.

Your boss howls with pain and you can't keep the grin off your face, glad to see the man who's treated you like shit for so long finally get what he deserves. You're not sure why Jotaro got involved at all, but you're so, so glad he did. ...Hopefully this won't have repercussions for you.

Crumbling into a broken heap on the ground, your boss says nothing more. He's not dead or anything, though, just injured and embarrassed.

Jotaro says his catchphrase and rolls his shoulders before walking over to you, one hand in his pocket. "Those mine?"

You nod, handing over the paper tray, face burning. You've never had someone stand up for you like that before. Standing there, looking up at Jotaro, you're overcome with the need to say something, anything, to express your gratitude. "Thank you," you say emphatically, though it doesn't feel like enough.

"Whatever," says Jotaro, not even looking at you. He takes the drink and turns on his heel to presumably walk away.

"Wait!" He stops. He turns. He looks at you, eyes narrowed. "Um. Seriously. I owe you one for standing up for me like that." Okay. Time to shoot your shot. The worst he can do is say no, right? You'll probably survive a rejection. "Can I make it up to you with coffee sometime? Or maybe dinner?"

He looks at you like you're the dumbest person alive. "You think I did that for you? I just wanted my stupid drinks."

"Oh, but I thought…"

"You thought wrong. I wanted my shitty drinks and your ultra-capitalist boss was getting in the way of that. If there was another barista there, I would've asked them to make it, since I'm sick of you making that nasty face at me, but you were the only one there."

So he did notice the goo-goo eyes. "But—"

"Yare yare daze." And with that, you feel yourself lifted off the ground, but Jotaro's not touching you. Before you can get even a single word out, you're flying through the air, landing with a splat in a nearby canal.

Wait, what the fuck?! There are no canals around here! There should be an Ulta here! Where did this canal come from?! How did you end up here, is Jotaro fucking telekinetic?! And WHAT IS THAT BITING YOUR ANKLE—?!

[demibats]

Unsteady - BENEATH THE BLOOD MOON

summary:  Bludhaven and Gotham take a fearful turn when a new threat is posed in both Batman and Nightwing’s territories, neither of them equipped for it. That is, until Dick crosses paths with an unlikely new ally...

  word count: 4k warnings: brief mention of violence.

A cool breeze ruffled Dick’s hair as he looked over the city of Bludhaven, way up on the tops of the buildings. He’d been hunched over, listening intently on his police scanner for far too long. It was too quiet of a night. Not even the common street criminal was causing a disturbance. The silence was far more vexing than any goon he’d come into contact with over the past week. 

Dick tried not to let the little noises pester his paranoia further, though it was hard.  The sound of an animal rustling in a garbage can or a car’s horn was enough to make him jump. Dick stood, taking in a deep breath before he flipped from one roof ledge to a lower one. Landing with a hard thud, he turned over his back, eyeing the spot he’d just left and the gap below. Below, consumed in the darkness, he swore he heard voices.

Dick turned and peaked down, seeing nothing in the bleak emptiness between crumbling buildings. He continued his typical patrol around the tops of the buildings, looking over the city. It was the first night in months that not a thing gave him a good chase. While he felt like he deserved a break, the sudden change in activity felt odd. It was as if an entire world of crime just stood at a stand still, completely unmoving as Dick traveled the rooftops of Bludhaven. 

Faintly, Dick heard a grunt and blows landing. It was quiet, but Dick’s trained ears focused on it and could make out a cocky ‘that all you got?’ He did a front somersault off the ledge and slid down the opposite wall, skillfully as to not disturb the others in the alleyway. He turned on his heels and crouched down behind a rusty dumpster, peeking his head out to survey the scene. 

A woman was facing with her back toward him, striking whatever was in front of her with her palm, upward into her attacker’s nose. Jesus Chirst, Dick thought, usually now is the time I have to come in. She spun around and delivered what should’ve been a near-fatal kick into the attacker’s ribs, but he only stumbled before throwing his hand into the woman’s head. She took barely a second to steady herself before grabbing her attacker’s next hit by the wrist to twist it upward. At an impressive speed, she unsheathed what looked like a wooden stake and plunged it into the chest of her attacker. Dick caught a glimpse of the man’s face, seeing it contorted and molded with yellow eyes before it burst into dust. 

He was in awe. Of all the metahumans and villains he’s faced throughout his entire life, he’d never come across something quite like that. Maybe he’d read about them but seeing one perish in person was an entirely new ballgame. He stood up from his spot, stepping out from behind it, but didn’t trek toward the woman. She was relatively new and, to be frank, scary. “I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that maybe now isn’t the time to ask questions?” Dick spoke clearly, despite being unsure of this new vigilante, if that’s what she was. 

She flinched at his loud voice and whipped around, fists clenched. When her eyes laid on him, her mouth dropped, but her shock didn’t last long and was soon replaced with some form of annoyance, “Nightwing, is it? A little birdie told me to watch out for you. Well, another little birdie.” She said, poking fun at his alter ego.

“In the way that we’d be brawling like your little friend or just as a precaution?” Dick quipped.

“Neither. Just a piece of information I needed to have before I moved here.”  Her shoulders relaxed as she walked toward him, “We done here?” Her shoulder bumped into his and which only spurred Dick’s talking on more. 

Before he could get a word in, she said, “You were watching for a while before I dusted that creep. Is it a part of the job to leave capable dames to their own devices now? I definitely could’ve used the help.” Her tone was sarcastic, Dick couldn’t tell if she meant it, or was just annoyed simply by his presence.

Dick blinked a few times before answering, “I have no idea what that was. Or what or who you are. I was a little taken aback, needed time to plan my next move.” he responded, following her out of the alley. 

She stopped in her tracks and turned around, narrowing her eyes on him. She examined his face for a moment and Dick grew anxious that she was trying to figure out his identity for a split second. Shaking off the uneasy feeling, he furrowed his eyebrows. “You really have no idea what I just killed?”

The fact she’d said ‘what’ instead of ‘who’ returned the uneasy feeling, but this one was different, “No, I don’t. Mind telling me? This seems like crucial information I should’ve known when I moved here.” He mocked, but the woman could only smirk at it.

“It was a vampire. Like, a genuine dracula. Blood-sucking demon of the night, fangs and all. There have been sightings and nests popping in Atlantic City, Gotham and Bludhaven more and more recently.” She explained, continuing her walk down the empty street. Dick didn’t realize he was supposed to follow her.

He jogged up to her, slowing down and matching speeds with her pace. Dick never walked through the neighborhoods at night, too busy flipping from the rooftops to realize how things looked down here at night. Gazing at the woman through his peripherals, he sucked in a breath, “And you’re.. What? Just doing a public service by driving stakes through their hearts?” he asked, question after question popping into his head. If she was a civilian, where’d she learn how to fight and defend herself like that? Why was she absorbing blows that should’ve knocked her on her ass? How did she know all this? Especially that these supposed nests were in Bludhaven?

“I’m the Slayer. It’s my destiny, or whatever, to hunt them down and send ‘em back to hell.” She clarified, sounding less than enthused.

Dick chuckled, “Whoa there, try to contain your excitement.” 

Rolling her eyes, she picked up speed, wanting to shake the nuisance that was Nightwing, “Look, I’ll go my way, you’ll go yours. There’s no need to be all buddy-buddy. I’ll kick vampire ass, you’ll beat down criminals, simple as that.”

Dick stopped on their walk, grabbing her wrist just for her to rip it from his clutches, “Would you listen for one goddamn second?” he raised his voice, surprising her, “If these creatures are as dangerous as I’m thinking, and to the extent you said, you’ll need help. This doesn’t sound like much of a cakewalk. I’m not an idiot who wears a mask and punches cat-buglers, okay? There are more important skills than brute strength, ones I have, that could help you.”

He could tell she was considering it. It took only a few seconds for her to answer, “This isn’t something that’s a team effort. I’m the slayer, and whether I like it or not, I have to do this on my own.”

Dick let her go off on her way this time. He couldn’t wrap her head around the events of that night, especially not the fact that Bludhaven and Gotham, his home and former home, were riddled with creatures like the one she’d just fought. Grotesque, monstrous creatures that were preying on the innocent the way that they were. He feared for the citizens of Bludhaven, knowing that he might not be able to protect them from the vampires he knew nothing about. Sighing heavily, he took out his phone and dialed a number he hadn’t saved but could recite from heart at any given time. It only rang once before a familiar voice spoke. “Master Dick, it’s been too long.” Alfred chimed. 

“I miss you too, Alfred. Tell him I’m driving up. There’s something brewing in both our cities and we might need all hands on deck for this,” he paused, “I’m gonna send you some information of my current location, can you please use the cameras in the area for facial recognition for the woman I was with tonight?”

“I’ll hop to it, Master Dick. I’ll let him know, as well and make preparations for your sleeping arrangements.” Alfred spoke in his typical calm and calculating, yet stern tone. 

“I’ll get a motel, just tell Bru-”

Alfred cut him off, “I’m afraid not, Master Dick. You will be staying in the manor and there’ll be no arguments made against it. The facial recognition you requested will be done within the hour.”

Rolling his eyes, Dick smiled, “Yeah, alright. See you soon, Alfred. Thank you.” And with that, Dick ended the call, inhaling sharply. His night just became a lot more eventful than he could’ve ever guessed. 

“Fuck.” 

-----

Dick pulled into the long stretch of driveway through the gates, his tongue running over his teeth. It’d been some time since he’d been home and it still felt cold and distant. He didn’t plan on staying too long, but would stay as long as needed to research and learn about any lore pertaining to vampires and ‘The Slayer’. Bruce had more money than God and enough books to educate a small community, some of those might even be older than God.

The sprawling grounds of Wayne Manor, while being the apple of any remotely smart person’s eye, made Dick feel more alone than he ever had. However, he did what he learned as a child, and pushed those feelings down, trying to focus on the task at hand. After stepping out of his car, now parked in the garage, he met up with Alfred. That old rascal always brought a smile to Dick’s face, even after the time he’d seen him. “Nice to see you, Master Dick. Master Wayne is waiting for you. The facial recognition was successful.”

Dick couldn’t help but grin at the butler before clapping him on the shoulder, “Thanks, Alfred. I owe you one!” He shouted as he booked it toward the indoor entrance to the cave. 

The manor was always remarkably clean, thanks to Alfred ( and sometimes Bruce ) . With Alfred’s older age, you would think that he was ready to give up the butler life, but there was no way he would, not while Bruce was running rampant in the streets wearing a cape and cowl. Dick waited patiently in the elevator ride down, his hands fidgeting at his sides. He shoved them into his jean-pockets as the door opened, revealing the dimly lit cave.

Bruce was standing before the bat computer, pictures and records up on the large screen. He was hunched over the tabletop in front of him, rather than sitting in the chair. He wore a black tshirt and dark jeans, rather than the full form of the batsuit or head-to-toe formal wear. Bruce heard Dick’s footsteps and straightened his back, turning toward the younger man. “You look different,” Bruce said in monotone. 

Dick chuckled, “Yeah, living on your own does that, I guess.” He knew that Bruce wasn’t one for physical affection but that didn’t stop Dick from giving him a brief hug, which to his surprise, Bruce reciprocated for the short while it happened.

“So, did you pin-point our mystery girl?” Dick said, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, eyeing Bruce as he pulled up what looked like an ID photo.

“Y/N L/N. Goes to a community college in Bludhaven, lives alone. She previously lived in Chicago, graduated from high school, got accepted into a community college there, held a steady job, but moved here after her mother was killed eight months ago. Coroner’s report says animal attack but given the information you sent, I’m guessing that whatever she fought off last night is one of the things responsible for the murder of her mother. Who is she to you, Dick?” Bruce slowly turned to face Dick, raising his eyebrows in curiosity. 

Dick shrugged, “I’m interested in her line of work.” He said, but Bruce knew exactly what Dick wasn’t saying. He let it slide, obviously not wanting to open that can of worms. 

“I’ve pulled up every known instance of vampires over the past twenty years and… a lot of it is complete nonsense, Dick. Very slim picking of what compares to Y/N’s vampires. Something about Twilight-” Bruce was about to continue but Dick cut him off. 

“Steer clear of anything marked under that, you won’t get anywhere.” Dick turned away from the computer and walked toward the dark oak bookshelf away from where Bruce stood.

“And where are you going?” Bruce asked.

Dick turned over his shoulder as he walked, “There has gotta be something in one of your dusty old books that’s more helpful than you skimming teenage fanlore.” He chuckled, eyes running over the spines of all the books. He didn’t have too much to go on, but anything would help them at that moment. 

Bruce and Dick spent hours researching vampire lore, hoping something would point them in the direction of some sort of slayer prophecy. Of course, it would’ve been much easier if Y/N complied with Dick in the first place, but she was dead set on avoiding Nightwing like the plague. While Bruce appreciated literature, he knew how to find needed information on the web better than anything else. It bothered him that he wasn’t coming up with much, but he’d never tell Dick that. 

“Any luck?” Bruce called out.

“Not on the slayer, but this volume and the one like it talks all about what they are and the lore behind them,” he paused for a moment, then realized Bruce was waiting for him to continue, “They’re essentially demons, soulless creatures from Hell. They can only inhabit earth if they possess a human corpse. Apparently they’re considered hybrids, less pure than other demon species.”

Dick looked up from the pages of the worn book, seeing Bruce look absolutely lost in thought. He cleared his throat, hoping he’d have some sort of feedback. “What are they doing in Bludhaven?” Bruce asked.

“Add that to the pile of answers we don’t have.” Dick huffed.

The two men were up into the early hours of the morning, almost 5AM before Dick had a breakthrough in one of the thousands of books in the cave. “Here!” he called out, getting Bruce’s attention. The older man quickly made his way to the table that Dick had been hunched over, reading and researching. 

“Every generation, one girl is chosen to be the Slayer. She wields the power to fight demons, vampires and other forces of darkness. Apparently the first slayer actually had the gifts of a vampire given to her by said vampire.” Dick read.

Bruce was silent.

“Are you going to say anything? We’ve been at this for hours and I finally find something and you’re a statue.” Dick was annoyed and tired and beyond ready to burn every book in the manor and then go right to sleep.

“That’s just it, Dick. We’ve been at this the entire night and all we’ve learned is that some otherworldly force picks a woman to fight the undead. We’re still at square one in my book. Get some sleep, we’ll regroup and pick it up again after some rest.” Bruce said, turning to shut down the computer.

Dick grumbled, gathering up all the books he hadn’t read through, along with the one who explained who the Slayer was, and went to his old bedroom. He would probably only get a few hours of sleep before he would be up and at it again. He needed to find more out before going back to Bludhaven to find her again. He wanted to be prepared, knowledgeable. Dick knew that there was no way Y/N would let him help if she had to teach him all there was to know about vampires. He still didn’t know if she could be swayed even if he had already learned. 

As soon as Dick hit the mattress, books surrounding him, he was out like a light. He hadn’t pushed himself to the extreme of staying up over 24 hours in a long time and he felt like he would go insane from lack of sleep. That first night back at Wayne Manor, Dick had nightmares. He was in his Nightwing suit, except for his mask, standing in an alleyway that seemed like it went on infinitely on both ends. He tried to run one direction but felt like he was getting nowhere. On all sides of him he heard someone crying out for help and a hiss that felt too familiar. The cries continued as did the hisses for what seemed like mere minutes, but when Dick opened his eyes, he’d realized it was nearly three o’clock. 

He felt like he’d been hit by a semi-truck, or maybe a large pick-up at the least. There was a cup of coffee next to his bed on his nightstand, still steaming. After all these years, ALfred had a knack for knowing when his boys would be awake. Dick grabbed it sluggishly and took a small sip as he sat up. The room was still and quiet, while he enjoyed the peace, sometimes it was deafening. After he’d downed most of the coffee, he pulled his shirt off and headed to the shower. 

-----

“Let’s just say that she does allow you to work with her, will you keep me informed?” Bruce posed the question as Dick looked over yet again, another book. He peaked over the pages of the book he was reading, lips on the rim of his coffee mug.

Bruce looked like he’d gotten enough sleep for the both of them, had his healthy breakfast and already did his eight mile run. It was appalling how easy it was for Bruce to hide his fatigue, while Dick, Jason and Tim had always looked tired, constantly. 

“If what she said is true, that Gotham as well as Bludhaven, has these nests, then yes. You’ll need to stay in the loop and be hypervigilant during patrol. These things are no joke, Bruce.” Dick answered, “Mind if I take the books with me back home? I’ll scan over any information I deem important.” 

Bruce nodded, but before Dick could exit the kitchen to pack up his belongings, the older man called out, “Be careful.” Bruce might not express his fondness or affection for his son, but he knows that Dick knows exactly what his simple words mean. 

Dick turned back and nodded. “You too.”

The drive back to Bludhaven was tense. Dick knew he’d have to betray what little trust he’d managed to create the first night he met Y/N by essentially breaking into her apartment. He fought with himself mentally about his next move. He still had research and planning to do if was going to seriously enter this world. He was too stubborn to just let Y/N tell him no. He didn’t care if it was her destiny to battle these things alone. He was going to make sure she wasn’t on her own and that he upheld his oath to protect Bludhaven.

Within the wall of his Bludhaven apartment, he stood in the kitchen, unmoved as he pondered his options. There weren’t many. It was either he’d help Y/N and go to her apartment, maybe get his ass kicked if she was startled or not help her and go about his regular vigilante activities. It shouldn’t even be a question. Dick tried to put his impulsivity aside, tried to think before jumping immediately into this unprepared.  Y/N told him to stay out of it, he should respect that. But what if it becomes too much for her to handle on her own? Wouldn’t she rather have an ally? Someone to depend on? There had to be a reason why she was so harsh about it.

A million more questions spurred Dick’s thoughts on, but in the end, he decided he’d rather have her be pissed off at him interfering with the slayer business than her, laying in an alleyway, dead because of some demon. He’d set out to find her before it got dark, he didn’t want to risk getting a wooden stake to the torso because she couldn’t see the black and blue suit.

He donned the Nightwing garb as he seemingly flew over the rooftops, cartwheeling, backhandspringing, flipping, somersaulting all over the ledges and landings to get to her apartment which was about ten blocks from his own. From the roof of a building opposite to her apartment complex, he could see into her living room through a window. The curtains were parted and the soft lighting illuminated Y/N on her couch, a bowl of cereal in her hands and a textbook in her lap. The domestic scene almost completely masked her slayer personality. She simply was a college student, trying her hardest to be normal, plagued with the responsibility of protecting innocent life.

Dick slid down onto the fire escape below him before leaping to one on Y/N’s building, careful not to cause any reason for a passerby to look up and see him. Perched on her fire escape, he carefully knocked on the glass of the window. She nearly jumped ten feet in the air, almost spilling her cereal. Looking over to her window, her expression showed pure confusion. Dick was surprised, he expected blind rage. 

Getting off the couch, Y/N placed her cereal and textbook on her coffee table before storming over to the window, sliding it open. “What the hell? Are you stalking me now?” She whisper-shouted. 

Dick shook his head, “No, no. It seems like that but I promise that’s not the case.”

Y/N sighed deeply, clearly unamused. She remained silent, crossing her arms as she stepped out of the way of the window frame, “Come on in.” 

Dick slowly climbed into her apartment, hunched over for a brief moment before standing tall, scanning the room. It was simple and neat. She had multiple potted succulents and a few framed photos on the wall. She had a couch and a bean bag in her living room as well as a small tv stand and coffee table, which looked to be covered in books and paperwork. It wasn’t at all what he’d expected it to be like.

Before he got lost in thought about her apartment decor, he turned to her, “I read about the vampires and slayer lore. We didn’t have much to go by, but I found out the basics.” Dick could tell she was on the verge of interrupting, “Let me finish. I know that it’s your so called destiny to do this on your own, but I say fuck that. I want to help and technically speaking, if I’m not working with you, I’d just be hunting them down on my own. We can work together. Two minds are greater than one. You don’t have to babysit or coddle me, I get the gist of what you’re up against. Let me lighten the load. If you don’t like working together after some time, I’ll hit the road. Just give me a chance to show you I can be worth your while.”

Inhaling sharply, still with her arms crossed she spoke finally, “You’re not gonna leave me alone are you?”

Dick grinned, “Couldn’t get rid of me if ya tried.”

Feeling defeat sink in, Y/N rolled her eyes and walked back over to her couch and coffee table, resuming her spot where she was studying. “The second you get on my nerves, I’m kicking your ass.” She said, not a hint of sarcasm in her tone. 

“I won’t. Scout’s honor.” he did the hand salute thing before taking a seat next to her on the couch. 

Once more, she rolled her eyes and felt the weight of her decision start to sink in.

[pascalpanic]

Lipstick Stain (Maxwell Lord x f!Reader)

Summary: Maxwell brings you to a gala, but it seems like you can’t get what you want from him.

W/C: 2.7k

Warnings: language, slight period-typical misogyny, SMUT 18+, dirty talk, oral (m receiving), unprotected P in V sex (wrap it before you tap it babes) in a sort of semi-public space

A/N: it’s Max Lord day, I had to! I’ve been meaning to write more outside of my mains lately so this is an attempt at that! Please let me know if you have any characters I don’t write for as often that you’d like to see more of!

Maxwell Lord is obsessed with his public image. Of course he is, when he’s trying to cultivate a reputation as a rich, oil-laden mogul. He takes you to the fanciest clubs in parties, dressed in the height of 1984 fashion. He pays for your expensive haircuts, which currently features teased bangs and long waves.

Tonight, you’re at a gala. Your dress is a long, citrine-orange wrap that shimmers and has a high slit. Maxwell picked it out for you at some expensive store in Downtown D.C., insisted that you wear the color that would make all of his wishes come true when he finally found that stone. The two of you had posed for photos as you wandered in, your heels sinking into the plush velvet carpet beneath you.

“Maxie,” you sing softly in his ear as you wander up from behind him, wrapping an arm around his waist. He’s talking with a group of powerful men, many of whom you recognize from Forbes or television. The martini in his hand nearly spills when he jumps from the way your fingertips find the small of his back.

He excuses himself from the men and wraps his arms around your waist as you straighten his bowtie. “Dearest,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your bangs-covered forehead, his lips tasting of your hairspray as he pulls away. “What seems to be the problem?”

You look up at him with admiring eyes, a soft smile on your painted lips. You’re wearing so much makeup you can practically feel it move with your cheeks as the smile moves them. “Nothing,” you grin at him. This isn’t your natural environment: you were never famous before you met Maxwell. You were practically unknown, unlike the other millionaire’s wives and playthings that congregated near the bar. “I just think you look so handsome tonight,” you grin and cup the side of his face, worn but soft from the copious amounts of biotin oil he rubs into it every night. “How late do you feel like staying?” You ask softly as his hand finds its way on top of yours.

Max sighs. “It’s not how late I feel like staying, love. It’s how late these men feel like staying.”

You knew that would be the answer, but you frown anyway. “Maxie.”

“I know, I know,” he nods and pulls you a little closer. “If it were up to me, we wouldn’t even be here. But I- we need this. Black Gold needs this. If I can convince just one of those men to invest, I swear we’ll finally-”

With a soft kiss, you cut off his words. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me, honey,” you chuckle as you break away, sliding your fingers under one of his suspender straps. “I know. It’s alright. I’m just… feeling tired. Not my kind of people,” you admit as you scan the room. It’s so stuffy, bland house music playing and the small dance floor nearly completely empty.

Maxwell doesn’t like these kinds of functions either. You can tell, from the way his hands quiver in yours as you walk in, from the way he downs a drink before he can talk to anyone and then sips at another for the rest of the night. “Well, you’re the most beautiful woman here,” he assures you, a hand tracing down your sides, over the shimmering, pale orange fabric. “No one could even hold a candle to you,” he murmurs as his hand drifts lower, to the bare skin of your thigh beneath the slit.

“Maxwell,” you warn as you breathe out a chuckle, snapping the suspender against his chest. “Careful.”

He smiles a little, glad he could boost your mood for even a few moments. “Not my fault you’re the most ravishing woman here,” he mumbles next to your ear.

“Do you want a paparazzo to take a photo of this, hm?” You tease, pressing a kiss to the side of his face and grinning at the pinkish-red stain. “It’ll label you as some kind of rake, an exhibitionist,” you giggle as his hand rubs against the soft skin there. It goes higher, tugging at the lacy strap of your panties over your hip. You make a soft noise of surprise and rest your head against his shoulder.

“Please,” he chuckles and shakes his head, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “I’m Maxwell Lord, darling. I can do whatever the fuck I want, especially with you,” he murmurs, kissing you again. He sighs and his hand returns to your waist. “I need to go and talk shop again. Come with me.”

You groan and pout, looking up at him and holding him by the suspenders again. “Max. I don’t want to look like some trophy wife.”

“Hey, you said you’re bored. At least you can listen in on what we’re saying and help me strategize. It’d be a real help to me,” he offers, chuckling as you take a martini and take a swig, leaving a lipstick stain on the rim. “Then I’ll take you home and get that fancy dress off that perfect body.”

“Fine,” you sigh. You finish the drink in two more gulps and pat his side. “I’ll be right back, with two more of these.”

-

The night is boring. You listen to the men talk, giving sharp smiles when a man makes a chauvinist comment to you. This is the part you have to play, you remind yourself. This is for Max. You’ll put up with it to help him.

Finally, the room starts to slowly empty, millionaires filing out and into their limousines to take them to their Arlington mansions just across the Potomac. Maxwell stays to the very end, you hanging on his arm and tired.

When the room is nearly empty, the DJ finally plays some good music. It’s a song you and Maxwell both love, and you perk up as you hear it, standing up taller in your heels. “Maxie!” You coo, walking towards the dance floor. “Come on.”

He sighs and rolls his eyes but with a smile on his face as he follows you. You kick off your heels as the floor turns from carpet to vinyl beneath your feet. Maxwell takes off the jacket of his suit, loosening his bowtie. There’s hardly anyone important here to see it, and you grin as you tug him along by the patterned suspenders.

Once you’re on the floor, Maxwell takes you in his arms and sways you along to the song. It’s a slow and sexy number, some new song by George Michael that’s heavy on the saxophone and he buries his face in your neck as he murmurs the lyrics. You’ve always known Maxwell has a pretty good voice, and it makes you smile to hear it. Your feet move in time across the floor, Maxwell’s hand slipping from your waist to your bare thigh once more. “Maxie,” you sigh, your hands climbing up the back of his neck and into his golden-blonde waves.

The hand slides higher, and you can feel it toying at the lacy strap of your panties. “Maxwell,” you shiver. “Take me home.” To seal the deal, to make it impossible for him to say no, you grind your hips against his, feeling him harden beneath his suit pants. Your hands slide his suspenders off his shoulders. They dangle around his waist, emphasizing the desperate look he’s already feeling deep in the pit of his stomach.

“Okay, darling,” he breathes and pulls you back to the table, grabbing his suit jacket and bowtie in one hand and your heels in the other. You giggle and wrap an arm around him, the two of you rushing outside as Maxwell’s jacket hangs in front of his crotch to hide his growing erection.

The two of you spot the limo, with Black Gold Cooperative emblazoned on the side. The driver opens the door and the two of you slide inside. As soon as the door closes behind you, Maxwell opens the small divider window and shouts at the driver to get you home. He closes it and pulls up the privacy system in a heartbeat.

While he does that, you find your way to your knees on the floor of the limo, smirking as you unclasp the wrap’s chest snap to show off your breasts beneath the dress. When Maxwell turns back, he unintentionally moans at the sight, your teased hair messy and your tits exposed in the lacy white bra you wore beneath it. “Oh fuck, darling,” he murmurs and cups the side of your face. His other hand unbuttons the top few buttons of his shirt while your nimble fingers undo the fly of his pants.

Beneath the suit, he wears no underwear. You certainly didn’t expect that, when you push them down slightly to find Maxwell’s bare and straining cock. “Maxie,” you murmur and a shiver runs through your body. “So naughty,” you chuckle and press a kiss to his shaft, leaving a lipstick stain there.

“Says the one on her knees for me,” he breathes, choking out a moan and his head falling back into the leather seats. His hand buries itself in your hair, gripping it unintentionally hard.

You take the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it and focusing on the frenulum. You drag your fingertips feather-lightly over his balls, making his dick twitch and his thighs tense. “You’re going to kill me,” he groans.

You suddenly sink all the way down on him, his tip hitting the back of your throat. You suppress a gag, making tears form at the corner of your eye. He grunts helplessly, biting on his lip, and the noises he makes are all worth it.

You pull away, until just the tip is on your flattened tongue. Maxwell is aching, dripping precum now. “Get up here and fuck me, baby girl.”

You pull away with a loud, wet noise and grin up at him, your lipstick smeared around your mouth. You look like an absolute wreck and Maxwell couldn’t be more in love with it. Your eyeliner is slightly smudged at the corners of your eyes, the tears from choking around his dick sitting there and refusing to drip.

Sitting back on your heels, you hike your skirt up until it’s around your waist. You climb over Maxwell’s lap, hovering above his dick. “Want you to cum in me,” you murmur as your forehead falls onto his shoulder when he pushes your lace panties aside and runs two thick fingers through your folds.

“I can do anything you want, darling,” he mutters, sinking his teeth into the skin of your throat. “Just say the word and I’m all yours.”

“Please,” you groan, shivering as the air-conditioning begins blasting through the back of the limousine and the cool breeze brushes your sweating neck. “Please, Maxie. Fuck me.”

“There we go,” he shudders and lowers you onto his dick, your panties tucked to the side. His movements are slow. Maxwell is fully conscious of how large his dick is, and he knows it always stretches you open despite the millions of times you’ve done this before. “Good girl,” he groans as you’re seated all the way on his dick. “Feels so fucking good on top of me.”

The sensation is so hot, the strips of bare skin on both your and Maxwell’s chest meeting in select spots, the rest covered by the silky fabric of your respective formal garments. Maxwell’s thick, ring-clad fingers slide between his hips and yours, rubbing tight little circles into your clit immediately and grunting. You cry out at the feeling and push yourself up only to slam your hips back down to his. “Take what you need, darling,” he assures you, bucking his own hips up into yours.

Nodding, you lift your head from his shoulder to kiss at his neck, tracing your tongue along his jugular as you bounce up and down at him. Soft noises of pleasure drift from your lips, and Maxwell’s fingers follow you up and down, stimulating you all the while. “Feels so good, doesn’t it baby?” He murmurs to you, grabbing the back of your head and pulling it to the side so his lips can descend onto your jaw. “You love this. Would’ve done this at the gala if I asked, wouldn’t you?” He murmurs.

“Yes,” you cry out, nodding softly and feeling the tug of his hands gripping your hair when you do so. “Anything for you.” He’s an overwhelming presence of a man normally: in your face, loud, enthusiastic and hopeful. His presence is equally heavy as his large hands are all over your body, his thick cock buried inside of you, his firm chest pressed to your soft breasts.

One particularly hard grunt comes from the back of Maxwell’s throat. “Baby girl,” he shudders beneath you. “You’re getting so close, aren’t you? I can feel it. I am too.”

You nod and your head falls into the curve of his neck, resting your face there and breathing in his expensive cologne and sweat. “Please, Maxie,” you groan out and grind your hips against him while he’s fully sheathed in you. “Cum in me.”

“You first,” he says breathlessly, teeth gritting in concentration to hold back. “Tell me how you feel, darling.”

A few more strokes to your clit do the trick, making you fall apart in his arms. “Max,” you practically sob into his neck and your arms grip at his broad shoulders desperately, your orgasm wrecking your body, making you shake all over and your thighs lose all of the power they had to bounce on him. “Feels so fucking good,” you cry as your head falls back, body pressed against his. “No one else can do it like you, Maxie.”

Maxwell can’t hold back any longer either, not with the way your walls clench him desperately hard and your body practically vibrates. “You’re fucking right,” he growls and takes over the job of the thrusts, both hands gripping your waist as he pushes his hips into yours again and again. “Because you’re mine, baby girl. All mine. And when we hit that oil I’m going to get a big fucking office and fuck you over the desk while you look over the D.C. skyline. How does that sound?”

“So good,” you whimper. He’s not sure if it’s from the way your body is still possessed by the orgasm or his words, but it seals it when you speak again. “In front of your fucking associates. Show them I’m yours.”

The words from your mouth sound infinitesimally dirtier than when Max could say it. Combined with your fluttering walls, it sends him over the edge. His dick buried deep inside of you, he shoots rope after rope of hot liquid into you, desperately crying your name and clinging to you as it rolls through his body like a rising tide.

The two of you sit there, spent and sweaty and sticky, for just a moment before you can feel the limousine come to a stop. Looking out the window, you can see you’re home. “Perfect timing, Maxie,” you breathe softly and lift your hips, sliding your panties back into place. He tucks himself back in his pants and adjusts his messy hair, pulling his suspender straps back up.

“I meant it,” he presses a kiss to your face as you sit back down next to him then scoot out of the car. “I’m going to give you the most wonderful life you can imagine when we hit oil. You’ll never want for anything again.”

Max tosses a bill with a high dollar amount into the passenger window, for the driver’s tip. You wait until he’s standing, taking his hand and leading him to the front door. “I don’t want anything now. I have you, I have this gorgeous life, and I have the ability to fuck my famous lover in the back of a limo. What more could I want, Maxie?”

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic @maxlordsgf

[rose-wine-selfships]

1-6 from the vibes meme? (kittyandco)

1) If your f/o drew you, how would they draw you? The pose, the style, the coloring?

He. Is. SHAMELESS. Joe is so the type of guy to draw me completely naked, hair tousled all over, and legs spread wide open on the couch. The “Titanic draw-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls” kind of borderline pornographic artist. And the worst part is…he’s f*cking good at it. You know those Rubenesque beauty artist styles from the 17th century? Yeah, THOSE GUYS.

He’s amazing at drawing me in every little detail from the location of my freckles and acne, to the cellulite and stretch marks all over my body. He has every part of me mesmerized. And my art in comparison looks like a toddler drew circle ass and tits compared to his Leonardo De f*cking Vinci ass! Seriously, I’m jealous of his talents lol!

And you know what’s the worst part? Even if he didn’t draw me naked? He’s totally the type of guy to draw me bent over pin-up style in the sexiest red dress known to man while drinking wine. His usage of colors is phenomenal, and he makes me so embarrassed because he puts so much effort into making me look beautiful in his drawings. Then he gets “inspiration” and has his way with me after looking at my drawings for so long. 😉😉😉

2) What kind of outfit would your f/o pick for you, if they had to?

If he had to dress me up, Joe would be the happiest damn guy on Earth. He’d make sure I wear nothing but the sexiest dresses and lingerie for him, but only in private. He can’t stand the thought of anyone else looking at my “luscious Latina curves” and gets quite possessive of me. In public, he loves seeing me in fuzzy sweaters with maxi skirts or sundresses.

As for shoes he loves it when I wear high heels or knee high boots to top off the look. Joe thinks it’s classy yet tasteful for peak fashion. Plus I look so damn adorable and sexy in his eyes like that. He’ll also take this opportunity to adorn me with the prettiest of jewelry he bought for me on previous dates. It’s a not-so subtle reminder to let other “admirers” (aka any people in a 50 mile radius) know to,” back off b*tch, she’s MINE! ” as his statement.

3) You and your f/o are in a crisis. What’s the first thing you two do?

Joe is definitely the type of guy to keep his cool in emergency situations. His literal motto is and I quote,” Never let yourself panic. No matter how bad it is, you find a way to stay calm, and keep your wits.” He’s been in enough dangerous and traumatic situations in his lifetime to react almost instinctively like a wild, bloodthirsty animal. He also uses his sharp intellect to outsmart and overcome his usually stronger opponents.

As for me, I try hard to stay calm but I’m actually freaking out on the inside. Joe can easily tell if my whole body is shaking, or if I’m swallowing my tears back. Joe then guides me through the process firmly but calmly. Once I know what to do he backs off and lets me do the rest.

Afterwards Joe engulfs me in the warmest hug, kisses my head, and tells me how proud he is for being so strong. He knows it’s not easy, and he knows I’m not used to situations like this at all. When it comes to the committing crimes like killing people, preserving organs, and burying the bodies he does it completely by himself. Unless if he desperately needs help from me he prefers to keep the dangerous activities with me to a minimum. He’s considerate that way. 👍

4) Your f/o sends you a drunk/sleepy text. What does it say?

When Joe is drunk, he’s usually the type to slur and misspell his texts even when he’s sexting me lol. Emojis will be all over the place and he’s a lot more expressive. His grammar is horrible too which makes it even funnier! 😂👌

For example,

“ Goddddd I love uuuu soooo muuuuch! 😫😫

I wanna stud, you like a burrito 🌯 with my special sour cream if, you knew what I menn? 😉😉

Hol on wait!

*Stuff!

Ducking autocorrect!

*Fuck!

Arrrgghhhhh! 🤬🤬🤬”

5) How does your f/o get your attention when they need you?

Joe gets very naughty by having his hands all over my body while kissing the nape of my neck. He usually does that in private or when I’m making a long phone call. If I’m still too focused on something, then he starts clearing his throat or groaning quite loudly to snap me out of it. He then starts visibly pouting and it’s the most adorable thing I’ve seen my yandere man do. 😫💕

6) How does your f/o introduce you to their friends?

Honestly, Joe does it as normally as any guy would do to introduce his lover to his friends which is happily and proudly. The only difference is that he’s subtly more visibly affectionate. He loves rubbing circles into my lower back while he hums and nods listening to other people. He also loves pulling me closer into his arms midway through conversations.

Sometimes if his friends get a little “too close” to me he starts kissing my cheek or the top of my head. Then while I’m not looking he sends the most iciest and intimidating glare at them for good measure. If they still don’t take the hint…well let’s just say he’ll take things into his own bloody hands. After all, he knows how to easily dispose of a body so you better sleep with one eye open. 🔪🩸

[annabethy]

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow day 21: best friend’s sister

Character A poses as their best friend’s lover for a Christmas party. Character B is the best friend’s sister,, percabeth

Percy truly doesn’t understand how it’s come to this.

He likes to think that he has at least some form of dignity, but he is quickly proven wrong as he is shoved into a suit by someone that has the audacity to call herself his friend.

“Quit pouting,” Piper chastises, pulling on his tie just a bit too tightly. He chokes dramatically, glaring at her, but she just rolls her eyes. “You agreed to this.”

“I did not agree to this,” he says. “I was simply there when your mom told you to bring a ‘lover’ to the party, and you held me at gunpoint.”

“You love it,” she says, laughing. It’s the complete opposite of the truth because he actually hates this, but his windpipe is cut off so he’s incapable of actually pointing that out.

“There’s no way anyone’s going to fall for this.”

She laughs. “Everyone will fall for this, and that’s why it’s perfect. No one’s seen us in forever since we moved away for college. We can just frame it as two best friends falling in love.”

“Yeah, but… I don’t know if I can do that. I look at you and want to vomit.” Piper gasps in mock offense. “You never had feelings for me? Not even small ones?”

“I had feelings for a lot of people, but believe it or not, you were never one of them. Not then, not now, not ever.”

“You really just friend zoned your best friend,” Piper says.

“I’m in love with someone else,” he lies.

Piper snorts. “You’re in love with my sister.”

His smile falls. “I am not. You take that back.”

“Relax, Percy. I think it would be cute if you got with her. You could marry into the family!” She claps her hands before pausing. “We could just never talk about sex again. I don’t want to hear about how you blew my sister’s back out.”

Percy shrieks. “Piper!”

She just laughs, throwing the jacket of his suit in his face and motioning for him to follow him out the front door. He hurls insults at her as he settles into the driver’s seat – also against his will, by the way – but she just throws them right back at him.

The hour drive home is spent with them being about as stupid as possible. They scream along with the music blasting in the car until they’re both laughing so hard they can’t breathe. It helps ease his nerves because he knows who’s going to be at this Christmas party, no matter how hard he tries to deny it.

He can’t even say her name right now because if he does, he might crash just so he doesn’t have to face her. It’s almost as though Piper can sense his frustration because she turns the music even louder until the car is shaking with the bass and he can’t hear his own thoughts.

Percy never ceases to be amazed by the wealth of Piper’s family. The second he walks into the manor, he is overwhelmed by the silvers and golds lining every inch of the place. It’s funny because he grew up around them, but it was always a stark contrast to the way his own life was. He could live a million lifetimes and never get used to being around people with this amount of money.

“So you’re rich rich,” Percy teases, just as he always does when they come home for the holidays,

“I’m wealthy,” she corrects, leading him along the corridors to the center of the party.

“Old money or new?”

“The type that could have you killed with the snap of my fingers,” she answers.

“Oh, please do not have me killed, your highness.” He grins cheekily as they walk into the center of the event.

“I must admit I’m liking the title,” she says. She stops him just before they are close enough to be noticed by anyone else, turning serious, and Percy fails miserably to match her tone. “From here on out, you’re my boyfriend, okay?”

“Oh god, I just threw up in my mouth.”

“That means having to kiss me at least once,” Piper says. “On the lips.”

“Please don’t make me.”

“I will never hear the end of this is they find out we’re faking, so start acting like a good boyfriend.”

“Uh.”

“Kiss me.”

“No.”

“Percy.”

“I can’t do it.”

“You’re going to plant one on these lips, or I’m going to pick up one of the silver forks and stab you with it.” “Fuck you.”

“Yeah, well if you’d kiss me, we might be able to get there.”

And then: “This is getting painful to watch.”

Percy and Piper both jump at the extra voice present. He turns his head so fast he nearly gets whiplash, and of course it’s her.

“Annabeth, my love!” Piper greets, giving her a lazy side hug. “I was just trying to get my boyfriend to kiss me.”

“Hm. I didn’t know you two were dating,” she says, a pointed grin towards Percy.

“Christmas surprise,” Piper adds, addressing Percy. “Aren’t you going to say hello?”

“You act like Annabeth’s my distant aunt,” Percy says, but he wraps her in a sweet hug anyways. It makes his heart stutter just the tiniest bit, and he has to force himself under control.

It’s embarrassing that he’s this caught up on her. It makes him feel a little guilty too, because she’s practically still a baby. He remembers when she was in diapers, wandering around the house with a pacifier while him and Piper messed around with play dough. Still, she had grown up, and he had too, and he hadn’t accounted for how pretty she would grow to be.

Okay, so he’s not that much older than her. He’s twenty, and she’s eighteen, so he supposes it’s acceptable, but now he’s in college and she’s still in high school, so things have grown… weird? He just doesn’t see her as much as he used to, and something in her changed. When she was younger, she would cling to him, but recently, she just looked at him with something he couldn’t pinpoint.

It looks similar to the face she has on now, actually.

“So you two are a couple now?” Annabeth asks, but Percy doesn’t really hear her. He’s too distracted looking everywhere except her short black dress she has on, or the way her curls fall perfectly onto her chest, or the gloss of her lips.

Piper elbows him, and he clears his throat. “Yeah. The happiest. We’re so in love. I want Piper’s babies.”

“Hm. From what I’ve heard, I wouldn’t have thought that was very true,” Annabeth says, giving him a knowing look.  It makes him wonder just what she’s heard. “Anyways, dinner’s about to start. Why don’t you go show everyone just how in love you are, oh-so-real couple?”

Piper laughs, but Percy glares at her. He’s given no choice but to follow Piper as she skips towards the dinner, and Annabeth follows at a distance, eyes analyzing them. Annabeth clearly hadn’t fallen for the disguise for even two seconds, so it has him worrying the rest of the night.

He is rightfully worried because the dinner does not go at all as expected. Annabeth is directly to his right, and Piper to his left, and they seem determined to kill him. Piper’s all lovey on the outside, which is not something he’s used to in the slightest, and it has the entire family’s attention on him. They coo over the new ‘couple,’ and Annabeth laughs into the hand covering her mouth.

Annabeth clearly enjoys the entertainment, and also relishes in embarrassing him even more because she’s started playing footsy under the table, running her heels up and down his ankle. He does his best to not make a face, but then her hand occasionally brushes against his wrist, and it has him wondering what it all means. Annabeth is much more handsy today than she’s been… ever, and he’s enjoying it more than he should with his fake girlfriend next to him, so the next opportunity he gets to leave, he takes full advantage.

He twists and turns through the halls, gets lost about five times before finding somewhere that looks remotely familiar, and then repeating the process. It’s a good few minutes before he finds an empty balcony and pushes open the doors to step outside.

It’s not to take a moment to breathe, really, because he’s fine. It’s just overwhelming, he supposes, sitting next to the girl he’s almost ninety percent sure he’s crushing on that he probably shouldn’t be, and his best friend who is apparently his girlfriend now.

“Hey, Piper’s boyfriend,” a voice calls. “You good?”

Percy rolls his eyes fondly, turning around. “Did you need something, Piper’s sister?”

She just shrugs and steps forward. “Just thought I’d come tease you a little bit.”

“Tease me?”

“A fake relationship? Really?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he says. “You’re, like, twelve.”

“I’m eighteen, but nice try.”

“A baby,” he emphasizes, heart suddenly beginning to race as she drags her fingers up his chest, tugging lightly on the tie. “Do you need something or not?”

“I guess I just have a question,” she says, leaning against the rail now. “So. I’ve heard things. Suspected even longer because even if I’m two years younger, I’m about two years smarter.”

He laughs. “What do you want to know?”

“You liked me,” she says. “Back in high school, I think.”

It’s a blow to his lungs, and he can’t find the air to breathe. He knew she’d bring it up at some point, because even if they never acknowledged it, it’s been floating between them, unsaid. He never acted on it because she was practically his own little sister at some point, and she’s Piper’s sister, and it just felt wrong.

“I think so,” he answers. “I don’t know.”

“Explain?”

“You’re Piper’s sister,” he tries.

“I’m Piper’s sister. I’m also your friend.” Annabeth tilts her head, a slight smile pulling at her lips. “What’s the problem then?”

“I–” He blinks. “I don’t know. I guess there isn’t one, really. It just never turned to anything more before I graduated, and now I’m hours away.”

“That leads me to my next question.” She stands again to face him head on. “You’re in college now. I haven’t seen you more than five times since you graduated two years ago. Are those feelings still there?”

“I don’t recall you ever being so upfront,” he teases. He doesn’t need to take time and think about her question though. He already knows the answer. He knows it every single time Piper says her sister’s name, or one of Annabeth’s pictures pops up on his timeline. He likes his best friend’s sister.

It might be more than just a crush.

(Definitely more than a crush.)

“I love you, Annabeth,” he says, “but I don’t want to do anything that might make things different, you know? I grew up with you, and I grew up with Piper, and if something happens, Piper will take your side, and I’ll lose the two people I love most, and–”

“That’s not what I asked,” she says. “I asked if the feelings are still there.”

From the way she’s looking at him, he doesn’t need to answer. “Why are you asking if you already know the answer.”

“Because I want to know if it would still be a good time to kiss you, like I’ve wanted to do for the last two years.”

Percy chokes out a laugh. “Annabeth.”

“You love me, Percy. It’s obvious to see it’s as more than a friend, and it always has been.” She bites at her bottom lip. “Do you know how many people I’ve had tell me that you and I would work well together?”

“I’m assuming a lot.”

“Piper was the number one supporter, surprisingly enough,” she tells him. “And I know you’re on a date with my sister, but she practically shoved me out of the dining room chair to come follow you, so it’s safe to say she wants this too.”

“Piper has issues.”

“Yeah, but you love her, and you love me.” Percy’s fingers fidget, because even though all of this has been swimming around inside him for years, hearing it from her is something else entirely.

“It’s only weird if you let it be,” she says, and something breaks inside of him.

Annabeth’s his friend too, and she’s a part of his life.

He loves her, so he kisses her.

It feels an awful lot like coming home. Suddenly, nothing else matters except him and her. Annabeth is his best friend’s sister, but she’s also his best friend too, and the person he loves and always has.

He distantly realizes that it’s going to be difficult to explain to her family how he went from being Piper to Annabeth, but right now, he can’t bring himself to care. It’ll be a cute story to tell in the future if this ever turns to anything more. He really hopes it does.

Annabeth is his family, and his best friend, and she is the one he was meant to be with from the start.

[yan-purgatory]

Netflix and Kill

request: CHANGKYUN possessive yandere! Where he's your quite neighbor who slowly opens up to you but you have a house Netflix date with another member, he can't handle that, time skip you go to your kitchen to get some midnight snacks(same night after the date) and find kyun in the kitchen sitting in the dark etc etc👀

pairing: changkyun x reader

word count: 1.8k

admin: ღ

The first time (Y/N) had “met” their neighbour was the day after they moved in. There was a knock at the door, leading (Y/N) to abandon the assembly of their IKEA wardrobe and greet her visitor. By the time they were at the door however, there was no person but rather a box of fresh cookies, and there was a young man walking away. (Y/N) stepped out to try to talk to him and thank him, but he just walked straight back into his apartment and locked the door.

(Y/N) picked up the box with a smile on their face, the smell bringing a rush of happiness and peace to their exhausted body after days of heavy labour. Meanwhile, her neighbour was just watching through his peephole to see their reaction, letting out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in in seeing the delighted smile of his new neighbour.

Changkyun collapsed on the sofa. He didn’t know why his heart was beating so fast when he hadn’t even interacted with them, when most of the people he saw on a day-to-day basis disgusted him and he had to put on the facade of kindness in order to advance in society. Yet, he was secretly yearning to speak to his new neighbour, a completely foreign feeling to his cold heart. Even if he’d put in the bare minimum effort by buying some simple cookies from the bakery, they seemed to treasure his gift and he liked that feeling.

Before he quite knew what he was doing, he was writing an email to his landlord to ask for the new resident’s name. There was a pit of worry when he hit send that his request would not be received and he would never be able to learn enough about the person who was occupying his brain.

Luckily, by that evening he had his reply, and his night was spent scouring the internet, fascinated by the enigma (L/N) (Y/N).

~ ღ ~

The next time that (Y/N) encountered their quiet neighbour face-to-face was a week later, when checking their mail in the morning. He was already there, a few envelopes in his hand and ready to leave only to stop in place when he saw (Y/N).

“Hi.” (Y/N) smiled awkwardly. “I don’t think I’ve had the chance to introduce myself.”

He nodded, not saying a word with his eyes trained on them.

“My name is (Y/N), and I’m the new chef at the Traveller.” They said, stretching out their hand for him.

Of course, Changkyun knew that but he didn’t dare tell them that. (Y/N) didn’t need to know how he’d spent long nights pouring over the social media of them, their friends, their family, just shooting any form of the drug that was (L/N) (Y/N). Nonetheless he took their hand in his own and gave it a firm shake, enjoying the soft feeling of their skin against his. It was better than anything he’d absorbed from the computer screen.

“Changkyun.” He replied shortly.

“Your cookies were delicious, by the way.” (Y/N) offered him a grin as they withdrew their hand from the slightly too long handshake.

“Thank you.” A ghost of a smile ran over his lips. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a cook otherwise.”

“Well maybe I can teach you. It is my job after all.” His neighbour said cheerily. He nodded and pushed past them to leave the mailroom, hoping they couldn’t hear his racing heart.

By God, Changkyun had never been so infatuated with anyone in his life. There was something about them, about the way that they smiled at him that made him feel alive.

~ ღ ~

In the passing months, (Y/N) found themselves establishing a closer bond with Changkyun. Teaching him how to cook their favorite dishes, helping him decorate his drab apartment for Christmas, listening to the playlist he made for them on spotify. All the while, his obsession with his neighbour was spiralling downwards - when (Y/N) stood a bit too close to him, the desire to bury his nose in his hair and breathe in their gorgeous scent was almost uncontrollable. When (Y/N) would stagger up the stairs drenched because they forgot an umbrella, his hands twitched to remove their wet clothes and run his hands down their naked body. (Y/N) had become his night and day, and they didn’t even know it.

He’d taken to walking around the block at 8PM on Thursdays, since usually (Y/N)’s shift was over and they would be walking back only to coincidentally run into Changkyun and have him accompany them home. However, when he engaged in his daily ritual on that night, he saw no sign of his neighbour. Clearly, their work was taking over their life - he was considering phoning their boss as their boyfriend to ask that she doesn’t work any more overtime, since it was depriving them of time together. A little white lie never hurt anybody, no?

However, just as he was arriving home and unlocking his door, he heard the familiar soothing sound of (Y/N)’s voice.

“No way! I swear, I’ll kill you one day.” Their laughter was medicine to his ears, but he froze in place when he heard another voice accompanying it.

“You’d never do that, you love me far too much.” The words sent shivers down Changkyun’s spine. Was there a secret boyfriend behind the scenes that he didn’t know about? Had he spent all this time chasing after someone who had already been taken?

(Y/N) didn’t even pay any attention to Changkyun, rooted to the spot in front of his door - as they dragged their partner over to their flat and continued to babble on.

He felt himself shaking with rage, at himself and at her. How could she seek out the company of someone else when he was always there for her?

All ideas of going to bed were now abandoned, as Changkyun abandoned his home to sit outside of (Y/N)’s door and listen in on the interaction.

He heard the ‘Ba-Boom’ of Netflix turning on, the sound of popping corn, and then relative silence whilst (Y/N) and their vermin watched some film together bar the occasional snarky comment.

It was practically torture, knowing that (Y/N) was with another man, possibly even cuddling with him. Changkyun wanted nothing more than to rip the bastard into shreds, but he had to be patient.

As the hours trickled by, he felt his eyelids starting to droop. Surely a coffee wouldn’t hurt, he posed to himself. If he had the caffeine, he could stay up and talk to (Y/N) long after that vermin had scampered. It was when he was on his way out of the apartment holding the steaming cup of joe that he ran into the man who had been plaguing (Y/N). And like that, an idea popped into Changkyun’s head.

“You’re (Y/N)’s newest victim then?” He spoke in a low voice, hoping that regardless of what state (Y/N) was in they wouldn’t hear him.

Kihyun gazed at him quizzically.

“What do you mean?”

“I see men like you in there most nights of the week. They’re practically the village bicycle.” Changkyun scoffed, taking a sip of coffee.

“We just watched a few movies, we didn’t fuck?” His rival retorted, but Changkyun just laughed coldly.

“They’re buttering you up. I wouldn’t expect them to be ‘friends’ with you for much longer.”

“Why are you- never mind.” The man sighed, turning on his heel to leave the building.

“Have a nice night!” Changkyun called after him, barely able to contain his shit-eating grin. Yes, it was satisfying to indulge in (Y/N), to admire them like anyone else. But it was way more fun to see the ones once enamoured with the ethereal being scamper away with their tail between their legs.

With the nuisance gone, Changkyun decided to enter (Y/N)’s apartment. The door was left slightly ajar, practically inviting him into the warm haven.

His angel was passed out of the sofa, having been tucked up nice and warm in a cozy blanket. He stopped to admire their perfect face, barely lit by the dim light of the television screen.

He found himself a seat in the kitchen to indulge in his lukewarm coffee as he waited for (Y/N) to awaken, so they could have a nice little chat.

~ ღ ~

When (Y/N) woke up, their apartment was dark and Kihyun was long gone. Brushing off the disappointment that came with no longer having his pleasant company, they sat up,

their stomach was screaming at them. The only food they’d eaten that night was the popcorn with Kihyun - they’d planned to cook a meal for the two of them, but exhaustion had won over them and they embarrassingly fell asleep in front of the movie before they even had the chance to offer.

Even if they regretted being an awful host to Kihyun, their hunger was a more pressing concern as they plodded into the kitchen to find something. Their mind was so occupied by their stomach in fact, they didn’t even notice Changkyun’s presence.

They found a packet of instant ramen shamefully hidden at the back of their cupboard, and were just about to heat up some water when a familiar chilling voice spoke up.

“Did you have a nice evening?”

They turned to finally notice Changkyun, leaning back in one of her chairs like he owned the place.

“Changkyun…? What are you doing in my kitchen?” (Y/N) rubbed at their eyes to make sure they weren’t dreaming.

“I thought it would be nice to pay you a little visit. It seems I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.”

He stood up and approached them, his aura more intimidating than they’d ever seen before.

“Who was he?” Changkyun snarled, his hand shooting out and gripping so tightly into (Y/N)’s neck that the nails were digging into their skin. “That son of a bitch you spent the entire evening with, leaving me out in the cold?”

“He’s just my colleague! Nothing more!” (Y/N) insisted, tears welling up in their eyes.

“Is that so?” (Y/N) was shoved onto a chair, with Changkyun standing over them. “Because I think some boundaries were overstepped. You don’t quite understand that you should belong to me, and me alone. You’ve severely betrayed my trust, and you should have to beg for my forgiveness.”

“What is wrong with you?”

“You’re going to phone them tomorrow and resign. Do you understand?” He breathed out, ignoring their scathing remark. “Your workplace doesn’t deserve a worker who will whore around with whoever pays them attention.”

He seated himself on their lap, his face getting dangerously close to them. It was then they felt cool steel pressing against their neck and realised he was brandishing one of their chef’s knives.

“You don’t need your job. You don’t need anyone else. You just need me.”

[teenwolffanclub-me]

Season 1, Episode 11: Formality

Hey there beautiful reader! If you’re new here, this is a series I’m writing where each chapter is an episode from the first season of Teen Wolf. If you’ve been here before, hey! I missed you! Previous and future chapters are linked at the end of each part if you want to catch up.

Pairing: Stiles x Psychic! Reader (FINALLY!)

Warnings: angsty angst angst

Notes: Does anyone still like this series? The last part kinda flopped 🤨

Anyway, I’m back and super excited bc my babies are FINALLY official and they only had to almost die like three times to do it!

P.S. Lydia has terrible taste in men, Y/N still sucks at being a psychic, and the high school desperately needs more security

                                                  ————————

Have you ever had a day go so unbelievably sideways that you honestly can’t even comprehend how fucked up it is?

Yeah, welcome to my Friday.

“This is the worst! My life is literally over.”

I huffed in annoyance, my jaw dropping at the pure absurdity of that statement. “Scott, Peter tried kidnapping you this morning and you’re worried about a dance?”

He frowned from beside me, his shoulders sagging. Last night, Deaton tried making Stiles and I leave the clinic once he was all patched up, but we both refused. I still wasn’t completely convinced that he was alive until he woke up with a start this morning.

It didn’t take long for Peter to show up, demanding that we hand him over. Actually, I can’t really say we because the three of us hid in the back while Deaton somehow took care of it.

Derek was still hanging out in the Argent’s basement, probably being tortured by Kate but most likely dead by now. I tried talking to Allison when I got to school this morning, but she practically ran away from me when I brought it up. I had no idea how much she knew at this point, and it was freaking me out.

And, to top it all off, Scott was flunking so many classes that coach banned him from the dance tonight.

Clearly, that was the most pressing issue.

He was so desperate afterward that he asked Jackson to watch over Allison, since he is her date. He apparently refused because it’s Jackson, so Scott had been losing his mind with worry all day. He was convinced that Peter would be after her next, but I wasn’t so sure.

She wasn’t an obvious choice. I mean, her family is literally just a bunch of professional werewolf hunters. Adding her to his pack wouldn’t make much sense.

“I just—I can’t sit by and watch him try to kill everyone I love.” Scott forced a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh.

My steps faltered and I peered over at him, my eyebrows raised in surprise. “You love her?”

“Oh,” His eyes widened as he realized what he said. “Yeah. I do. Holy shit. I love her.”

I watched as his lips slowly pulled into a grin, relieved that he wasn’t freaking out for a moment. It’d been pretty obvious for awhile that they loved each other, and I was honestly shocked it had taken him this long to acknowledge it, but happy for him nonetheless.

“That’s it. I’m going tonight.” His face hardened with determination before he turned on his heel and walked away briskly.

“Okay. Bye to you too!” I chuckled, curious to see how he’d manage to sneak in.

I only made it a few steps before someone rammed into my side forcefully. A pair of hands gripped my arms to steady me as I nearly toppled over. My eyes narrowed as they landed on Stiles’ sheepish expression.

“Hey. Sorry.” He let me go quickly and scratched at the back of his head. “Where have you been?”

“Class..?” I drawled slowly, my eyes trailing over his twitchy frame slowly. He seemed more wired than normal, which was saying a lot. 

His chest was heaving as if he’d just run a mile—which I’d recently learned he was surprisingly incapable of—and his eyes were shining with barely contained anxiety.

“I just...uh—I have a, I’ve been trying to...will you go to formal with me?” He rushed the words out so quickly, it took me a second to process them.

I just stared at him, waiting a moment to see if he was going to follow that up with anything else. “You mean the one that’s tonight? Are you serious?”

His honey eyes widened, as if he wasn’t expecting that response. I mean, what else was I supposed to say? I’d been waiting for him to ask me for almost two weeks now, and he waits until the day of? Who does that?

“Uh,” He glanced away from me quickly, his cheeks turning pink under the fluorescent lights. “Not if you’re going to say no.”

I just rolled my eyes, ignoring the way my heart began fluttering at the thought of going with him. I took a step forward so that there were only a few inches separating us and leaned up to place a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“It’s a date.” I patted his chest before walking away, an amused smirk pulling at my lips at his stunned expression.

                                                      ————————

I let my fingers trail over the frilly materials hanging in front of me as I took in my options. I was failing miserably at finding something decent to wear tonight. I wasn’t used to dressing up or being overly girly, so I had no idea where to start. I’d really just been standing here for the last several minutes, overwhelmed by all the colors and textures.

Allison was standing to my left, inspecting a few dresses in a full length mirror. Lydia was long gone somewhere behind me with a mountain of cloth in her arms. I picked up a knee-length blue dress and decided it wouldn’t hurt to try it on.

I saw someone approaching Allison out of my corner of my eye and glanced her way fleetingly, but froze as my gaze locked with Peter’s. I looked around, not fully believing that he was here, before jerking my attention back to him. He gave me a slow, amused smirk before shifting his eyes toward her. My head whipped back to the dresses in front of me, my entire body going rigid as I tried not to alarm her.

Maybe Scott had been right this afternoon. But would he really try to turn her now? In the middle of the mall?

“That’s not your color.” I heard him murmur, and stole another look their way. I didn’t want Allison to catch on that I knew him, or that anything was wrong. Very, very wrong. 

Allison shifted her weight, looking uncomfortable as he stared at her intensely. “Sorry if that was intrusive but, considering your skin tone, I’d go lighter.”

“Because I’m pale?” She asked quietly, somehow not questioning the fashion advice from a strange man.

“Fair.” He corrected, his head tilting as he tried to look well-meaning. “I mean, you can’t call skin like yours pale. Not skin that perfect...”

“Okay.” She laughed awkwardly and put the dress she was considering back on the rack beside her.

“Trust me, I have a...unique perspective on the subject.” She nodded and turned to walk away with a tight smile, obviously weirded out, but he stepped to the side so she couldn’t get away. My skin crawled at the predatory gleam in his eyes as he practically sized her up.

She watched nervously as he grabbed a new dress from the rack behind him and took her hand in his. She reeled back instantly at the unwelcome touch, but that didn’t stop him from bringing her skin up beside the material for comparison. “See? Much better.”

I’d heard enough. I took the few steps needed to close the distance between us, my heart racing in my chest. I wasn’t convinced that he was stupid enough to try anything wolfy in public, but I wasn’t about to take any chances, either. I stopped at her side and grabbed her wrist gently. Her wide eyes jerked toward me, swimming with relief. 

“Hey, Lydia needs help in the dressing room.” I rushed the lie out quickly, barely registering that she nodded in understanding before pulling her away.

I didn’t even spare another glance at Peter as I weaved through the narrow isles briskly, not stopping until I found Lydia clear on the other end of the store. She actually was by the dressing rooms, posing to herself in a full length mirror. I staggered to a halt at the sight of the champagne dress she had on. It was somehow...familiar?

“That was so creepy.” Allison muttered quietly as she shook my hand off and plopped down onto one of the plush chairs beside the mirrors.

I walked right up to Lydia, unable to stop myself as I continued inspecting her dress. She watched me for a moment and raised her eyebrows expectantly when my gaze rose to meet hers. My face pinched in confusion. There was a persistent nagging at the back of my mind as I looked at her, like there was something I should be picking up on. But I just couldn’t place it.

“I think that’s the one.” I jumped as Allison suddenly spoke up from behind us. I cleared my throat and took a step away from Lydia, realizing how weird I was being.

She turned away from me with one last questioning glance before giving herself a satisfied smile in the mirror, her hands smoothing down the silky material before resting on her hips.

“Me too.” She spun around excitedly and disappeared behind one of the dressing room curtains.

I couldn’t explain it, but I suddenly felt my stomach twist as a dark cloud of dread washed over me.

                                                    ————————

I looked over Stiles’ shoulder, the hardwood floors beneath my feet vibrating as loud music rang throughout the space. We were slow dancing for the second time tonight, my arms locked around his neck and my head resting against his chest. It was really nice, being this close to him. It helped lower the base level of anxiety I’d been fighting all day.

It’d been nearly an hour since I last saw any of our friends. We all met up with our respective dates at the start of the dance, Lydia having brought a random lacrosse player since Jackson was with Allison. Just then, my eyes found them dancing stiffly a few couples away, but the sight did little to calm my nerves. 

He was completely wasted at this point, since he thought it was a good idea to bring a flask of vodka with him, and she was just trying to make the best of it until we all went home. It was clear that neither of them wanted to be here together, but Scott had pretty much threatened him into watching over her, and she didn’t want to be without a date.

Scott successfully snuck in through the roof—don’t ask me how—and was managing to keep an eye on them while dodging coach all night. My eyes swept over the room, seeing nothing but familiar faces, just not the one I was looking for. 

Stiles suddenly pulled back and my arms loosened from around his neck. His eyes rounded as they flickered around my face with concern. “You okay?” 

I glanced over his shoulder again, feeling uncomfortable under his intense gaze. I didn’t want to lie to him, but I also didn’t know how to explain the uneasy feeling I’d had since we got here. My dancing faltered as I noticed that Jackson and Allison were gone.

“Have you seen Lydia recently?” I asked absently, my eyes still sweeping around the gym quickly.

I took a step away from Stiles and turned all the way around, my chest tightening with anxiety. For some reason, I felt like I needed to find her. Right now. Or something terrible was going to happen. My anxiety was quickly rising to panic when I didn’t see her anywhere. 

“Y/N?” Stiles put a hand on my shoulder and I glanced back to see him watching me closely, his brows pinched in confusion.

“I have to...” My skin was crawling with the intense need to get out of here. Something was wrong. I could just feel it. I leaned forward to place a quick kiss on his cheek, already feeling guilty for what I was about to do. “I’m sorry. I’ll be right back.”

I started jogging away before he could try and stop me. My legs had a mind of their own as I stumbled through the dense crowd toward the exit. I braced my hands against the gym doors and pushed my way through, stopping for a moment as they fluttered closed behind me to consider where she could be. I huffed, feeling an urgency deep inside me that was only growing with each passing moment. 

I turned on my heel to keep moving, and slammed right into a hard chest. I reeled back, ready to brush past whoever it was, but stopped when I saw that it was Jackson. His chest was heaving, as if he’d been running, and his eyes were wide with fear. 

“Jackson?” I asked tentatively, the look he was giving me only increasing my unease.

He stammered silently for a few seconds, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly. His eyes fluttered as they glanced away from me apprehensively. He was acting like he’d just seen a ghost, or maybe something worse. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” I pressed, taking a step toward him. 

He gulped and let out a shuddering sigh. “I-I was out behind the school and...and I was...”

“What? What did you do?” My voice hardened with frustration as I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. He had definitely been up to something, if his guilt-ridden expression was any indication. I momentarily forgot what I was supposed to be doing as my curiosity peaked. 

“I-I told...Allison’s dad, he was...”

My heart skipped a beat with panic at his words. Mr. Argent was behind the school? Why would he...

Oh shit. 

Oh my God. 

Without even sparing him another glance, I rushed past him and straight down the hall. Within seconds I was outside, the freezing night air causing my skin to rise with goosebumps instantly. My head whipped from side to side as I tried to figure out which way to go. On instinct, I starting running toward the lacrosse field. 

My heart was hammering painfully in my chest as I sprinted as fast as humanly possible. I was suddenly very glad that I’d chosen to wear ballet flats tonight, instead of the heels Lydia had tried forcing me to buy. I let my intuition guide me as I kept going until I reached the edge of the field. 

I staggered to a stop, my eyes widening at the sight of Lydia standing at the other end. Her back was to me as she walked around slowly, looking lost. I opened my mouth to call her name, feeling my chest loosen just slightly at the fact that she was okay. 

I froze, my whole body growing rigid with fear as Peter suddenly emerged from the tree line just outside the field. His figure was mostly cloaked by the bright stadium lights as he approached her, and it didn’t seem like she’d seen him yet. 

“Lydia!” I screamed, finally finding my voice through the panic coursing through me. I started running in her direction again, having no plan but just needing to be there with her. 

She whipped around at the sound of her name, but made no move to get away. There was nothing I could do but watch in horror as Peter stalked toward her and opened his mouth wide, his eyes flashing bright red. She didn’t react nearly fast enough. 

By the time I reached them, she was laying in a crumpled heap on the turf, blood splattered across her dress. All the air rushed from my lungs as a heavy sense of déjà vu washed over me. 

Of course, how could I be so stupid? It was the vision I’d seen when Derek helped me, finally playing out in real life. 

I let out a trembling breath, my chest feeling like it would collapse any second from the intense pressure. My mind went blank as Peter kneeled over her body, blood dripping down his face. His eyes, still red, slowly swept up to meet mine. 

“Well, they don’t usually run toward me, but I’ll take it.” He muttered lowly, an amused smirk twitching at his lips.

My eyes were still locked onto Lydia’s unconscious frame beneath him. Her new dress was ripped, the red stain at her hip growing alarmingly fast. My heart clenched painfully and tumbled down into my stomach at the sight. 

I was too late.

Peter took his time standing to his full height. I could feel his intense gaze on me, watching me closely, but I couldn’t look away from Lydia. She was so...broken. A wave of nausea washed over me and I forced my eyes to meet his.

My vision blurred as I tried desperately to catch my breath. “Is she dead?”

My voice was barely above a hoarse whisper, my entire body trembling. It was from the overwhelming terror being this close to Peter initiated, but I wasn’t just scared. I was angry. I knew something was going to happen all day, and I ignored my instincts. I saw this very thing happen weeks ago, but did nothing. And now, Lydia might be dead. Because of me. 

Peter hummed low in his throat, his eyes scanning me from head to toe before glancing down at her fleetingly. “Not at the moment.”

A few tears escaped down my cheeks as I tore my gaze away from him to look at her again. I wasn’t even sure if she was breathing. If she was still alive, it was just barely.

My panic only rose as I thought about how unlikely it was that I’d get out of this situation in time to bring her to a hospital. Her chances of survival were dropping by the second. And mine too, probably. 

“Tell me, Y/N, what do you see in my future?” Peter look a slow step toward me, and I stumbled back to keep some distance between us. 

My eyes jerked up to his as I stiffened, a shiver wracking my body as I became more aware of the freezing temperature. “How do you know about that?”

The earth crunched beneath his shoes as he stalked toward me. I stood impossibly still, knowing I wouldn’t be able to escape him. He didn’t stop until he loomed only inches away.

“How does anyone know anything?” He murmured hoarsely into my ear, and I recoiled back, my stomach clenching painfully in disgust. My eyes pinched shut as one of his hands came up to brush a stray lock of hair away from my face. “You, my dear, would make a fantastic beta.”

My eyes jerked open again and I took a miniscule step away from him, my hands clenching into fists at my sides. “Trust me, I wouldn’t. I’ve been told I can be really annoying. I wouldn’t make a good beta. Or a good anything, really. I’m hardly a psychic. You should just keep searching because, you know, whatever it is you’re looking for...isn’t me.”

“Oh, I think I’m willing to take my chances.” Time seemed to slow as his eyes flashed bright red, his mouth opening wide to show his razor sharp canines. 

I whipped around, ready to at least attempt running for my life, but instantly froze at the sight of Stiles barreling toward us. 

“No!” I shouted frantically, my heart leaping into my throat with panic.

A strong arm wrapped around my stomach and wrenched me backward. I slammed against Peter’s chest, hard. The air was knocked out of my lungs from the force, just as a clawed hand snaked around my throat.

Stiles lurched to a stop in front of us, his dress shoes slipping on the damp turf. He flailed to the ground before popping back up instantly, his eyes wide with horror as they glanced down at Lydia before landing on me.

“Don’t kill her. Please.” His voice was trembling with desperation as he held a hand out toward us hesitantly.

The tips of Peter’s claws dug into my skin and I winced, tears now running freely down my face. I was terrified. For myself, Lydia, and now Stiles. Peter had killed many times before, and there was literally nothing stopping him now. Stiles’ eyes flickered to my neck, his jaw clenching tightly. 

“Of course not. Just tell me how to find Derek.” Peter drawled, as if he wasn’t currently poised to do the opposite. 

“W-what?” Stiles stammered, seemingly surprised by that request. His gaze was still firmly planted on Peter’s hand.

I felt a sharp stabbing at the base of my throat and my lips parted as a shuddering gasp escaped me. He was surely drawing blood at this point. Stiles’ eyes widened with alarm at the sight and his hand jerked toward us as if he were itching to intervene. 

“Tell me how to find Derek Hale.” Peter leaned down, his warm breath fanning my shoulder. I tried jerking my head away, my heart lurching in my chest at his close proximity, but didn’t get far with his tight hold around me. 

“I don’t know that! How would I know that?” Stiles’ voice rose to a frantic shout, his chest heaving as his glistening eyes finally moved up to Peter. 

“You’re the clever one, aren’t you? And because deception has a very particularly accurate scent, Stiles. Tell me the truth. Or I will rip her apart.”

As if to prove the validity behind his words, his hand tightened around my throat. I instantly started pulling at his fingers as I felt my airway closing. My lips parted in a silent gasp, my lungs spasming painfully as I tried to force a breath in. 

“Look. I don’t know! Okay?” Stiles rushed the words out in a complete panic, his eyes darting between Peter and my neck. Tiny black spots dotted my vision as I felt myself growing faint. “I swear—I swear to God I have no idea!”

Peter hummed low in his throat, his chest vibrating against my back. “Wrong again.” 

Everything that happened next must’ve taken place in only a few seconds, but they seemed to drag on and on. Peter’s head jerked down to my left shoulder, his teeth digging into my skin easily. A scream tore through my throat as he finally released it, my vision blurring as unbearable pain rippled along my upper body. 

Stiles face crumbled in utter horror and he lunged toward me just as Peter’s arms disappeared. I tried gasping for breath as I sagged to the ground, but my body just wasn’t cooperating. It felt like Stiles caught me, but I couldn’t be sure as I lost all feeling in my limbs.

Then, everything went black. 

                                                    ————————

I stirred, already wincing in pain as I slowly regained consciousness. A high pitched droning was the only sound in my otherwise quiet surroundings. My eyes fluttered open and instantly squinted against the harsh fluorescent lights above me.

Everything felt heavy. I sluggishly started turning my head away from the lights, but jerked to a stop as searing pain radiated from my shoulder. My face fell into a grimace as a pitiful groan escaped my lips.

Something shuffled at the foot of my bed and I froze. My heart jumped in my chest with panic. Memories of Peter came flooding back all at once, and I started trembling with fear at the unknown presence.

Stiles jerked upright, appearing at my side a split second later. I let out a small sigh of relief, wincing as my lungs angrily protested each breath I took. My body began relaxing as I realized I was safe. 

“Oh my God! Y/N!” He practically yelled in my face as he leaned down over me. “Are you okay? Wait, that’s a stupid question. How are you feeling? Does it hurt?” 

One of his hands disappeared beneath the thin mesh blanket covering my body and he pulled out a hallow cord with a small switch in the middle. “If it hurts you can push this button as much as you want and I won’t tell. You’ll be higher than a kite, but—”

“Stiles.” My voice was barely above a hoarse whisper as I interrupted his frantic rambling. “I feel okay. Just tired.”

Truthfully, I hadn’t been awake long enough to know how I felt. I’d gathered that I was in the hospital, but obviously didn’t know much else. My entire left side hurt like hell.

My eyes trailed over Stiles quickly, noting that he was still wearing his clothes from the dance. His white button up was stained with blood and dirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His black jacket had been discarded on a table by the door.

Maybe it hadn’t been long, then?

“Seriously?” He sagged down into the chair that sat beside my bed, his eyes widening in surprise. “You were asleep for almost thirty hours.”

“I was what?” I planted my hands on either side of my hips and pushed myself up, ignoring the pain that ripped through my shoulder at the movement. 

How the hell had I been out that long? That meant it was already Sunday, although probably somewhere around midnight. Too many panicked thoughts invaded my mind at once to make sense out of any one of them. 

Stiles bolted back to his feet and pushed me against the bed with a disapproving glare. “It was actually twenty eight hours, forty seven minutes, and sixteen seconds, if that makes you feel better.”

“You know what, somehow it does.” I huffed sarcastically with a roll of my eyes, wiggling around on the hard mattress in an effort to get comfortable again. 

Stiles twitched his eyes at me while he sat back down apprehensively, as if not trusting me to stay put. He brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck as he glanced down to my injured shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Y/N...”

“For what?” My brows furrowed in confusion. I really had no idea why he would be apologizing. There was definitely a list of people that should feel bad right now, but he wasn’t one of them. 

“I should’ve listened. If I’d just told him what he wanted...” He let out a heavy sigh and rested his elbows onto his knees before dropping his head into his hands. 

I reached out and took one of his hands in mine, rubbing my fingers across his skin soothingly as he looked up at me cautiously. He had no reason to blame himself. Peter had already proven time and time again that he’s literally insane, and I’d made the stupid decision to run toward him mid-attack. I had a feeling he would’ve bitten me either way, regardless of anything Stiles did. 

“It’s not your fault.” His lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes glistening with a slew of intense emotions. 

I didn’t even have time to start deciphering them before he sat forward in his chair, his face hardening with determination. “I should’ve brought this up before I had to watch you almost die, but...you’re not—you know, how you are with me...with any other guys, right?”

His voice was timid as he struggled to stutter out the words. My heart swelled in my chest as my lips pulled up into a small smile. That was the most adorable, perfect, Stiles way of phrasing that question. For a moment, I forgot about all my worries.

“Stilinski, are you asking me to be your girlfriend?” 

His eyes twitched as he squeezed his fingers around mine minutely. “Only if you’re gonna say yes.”

I didn’t even have to think about it for a second. 

“Of course I’m saying yes, you dork.” I let out a breathy giggle as a big grin took over his face. 

His caramel eyes shined with happiness as he brought my hand against his mouth to place a gentle kiss on my fingers. It was about damn time we had that conversation. I honestly shouldn’t be surprised that it took us this long to make things official, considering how stubborn we both are. Regardless, it felt amazing to finally be able to call him my boyfriend. 

My boyfriend, Stiles. It had a nice ring to it. 

I only let myself relish the moment for a few more seconds before finally asking about the one thing I’d been dreading thinking about since waking up.

“How’s Lydia? Is she...?” I trailed off, not able to say the word out loud. 

When I’d seen her last, she was only moments away from death. I was sure of it. If I’d been here this long from a bite to the shoulder, I couldn’t imagine the damage that had been done to her. My heart clenched with regret as I thought back to all the moments I could’ve done something differently that would’ve saved her. 

Stiles winced beside me, hesitating for a long moment before answering in a quiet mumble. “She’s uh...missing.”

“Excuse me?” I instantly tried bolting upright at his words, my anxiety skyrocketing. Missing? How could she be missing?

He guided me back down gently with a hand on my uninjured shoulder, his eyes narrowing again in warning. “Yeah. She just kinda disappeared from her room this morning.”

It was like he could sense that I was about to try getting up again, as he peered down at me sternly and pressed his hand down more firmly. “My dad already has the entire department out searching. There’s nothing you can do.”

My mind was racing with anxious, jumbled thoughts. She could’ve been taken if no one was sitting by her bedside like Stiles had clearly done for me. Or, she could’ve run away. But why would she do that? She was in the hospital. Where she was safe and getting treatment. I guess, there was always a chance that she’d taken to the bite and shifted already...

I didn’t know what any of this meant for me. I could only assume at this point that I wasn’t a werewolf. I mean, my shoulder clearly hadn’t miraculously healed yet. I figured, if I were, it would’ve done so by now. I was just incredibly glad—and lucky—to be alive. 

My eyes met Stiles’ as he leaned back in his chair and inspected me closely. He kept glancing toward the place where Peter had bitten me as he drummed his fingers against his lips. It was like he couldn’t tear his gaze away. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I breathed, suddenly nervous. His anxious expression couldn’t mean anything good.  

“There’s something I keep—something Derek said awhile ago that I can’t get out of my head.” He mumbled, his eyebrows furrowing in apprehension. 

I looked at him expectantly, urging him to continue. He was seriously starting to freak me out.

“The bite—he said it either kills you...and I think we’re good on that one...”

I glowered at his poorly timed sarcasm as his eyes continued flickering between my own and my shoulder. He swallowed thickly, and I could practically see his heart racing as he let out a ragged sigh. He finally caught my gaze, twitching uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Or it changes you.”

Well, shit.

Episode 10                 Episode 12

[rae-gar-targaryen]

oneirataxia, but make it comedy | marcus pike x reader

A/N: Part of the Sleepover Weekend.  Oh, shit, did I ever get carried away. “Write a blurb,” they said, “it’ll be fun,” they said. “You won’t write 3.3k words of a fake-dating Marcus Pike fic. Surely not. Surely the fuck I will. Buckle up, babe. I hope this is what you were looking for!

Pairing: Marcus Pike (The Mentalist) x fem!Reader

Warnings: Romance is its own warning. 

Word Count: 3.2k of fake dating tropes, bad jokes, Marcus getting a lil sassy (he gets it from his mom, apparently), and coffee abuse.

Summary: Marcus invites you home for the holidays; but there’s a bit of a string attached to the invite. Based on the prompt: “Your mum hates me.” “She doesn’t hate you…she just doesn’t like you.” 

NOT MY GIF

--

You were absolutely going to kill Marcus Pike.

Okay, not kill. Maybe maim?

As you met his mother’s eyeline over the rim of her tea mug you could have sworn she sneered at you a little.

So, no. Most definitely kill. Marcus was number one on the list. And his mom? Number two.

Let’s back up a little here--

You and Marcus were both agents at the Bureau together. You were part of the Art Squad, and have partnered with Marcus on missions a time or two. Honestly, you thought he was kinda cute. He had a sweet vibe to round out his killer intensity when he was in the field. And once you started talking to him, he had a kind of puppydog energy you found so darn endearing.  But in your sporadic interactions with Marcus, it never felt like he was being his fullest, true self. Like he was holding back a bit.

Still, you didn’t press. Pike’s business was Pike’s business.

Beyond him bringing you coffees a few times at team meetings, your interactions were limited. And he brought coffee for other people sometimes, too, so you tried not to read much into it and to damper your little crush.

It wasn’t until the two of you were partnered to go undercover together at a gala that you think Marcus really, truly saw you. You two had made an excellent team-- posing as a husband and wife undercover to sniff out some art thieves.

Marcus, in his pressed suit, had looked every inch of just dashing. You tried not to let yourself get too carried away in your daydream. Your dress was uncomfortable, and rode up a bit, if you were honest. You hoped Marcus didn’t notice.

But he told you you looked nice, ever the gentleman. And you were so busy looking for your mark that you didn’t notice how often Marcus was really looking at you.

After the gala, Marcus approached you more.

The idle, “Hey, how was your weekend” became, “Have you heard the new Black Keys album?”

You started to feel like he really understood you-- and the agency must’ve thought so, too, because they partnered you more and more.

Sure, Marcus knew you. So it was honestly fucking baffling to you why he’d even ask this of you--

“You want me to what?” you asked Marcus, your tone taking a slightly interrogatory edge.

“Uh, come to my family’s house for the holiday? I know you were going to spend it alone anyway, so really, you don’t have to--” Marcus sputtered a bit, his invitation seemingly sweet on its surface. But you were no dummy, you knew what you’d heard.

“No, Pike. Don’t act like you’re doing me some huge favor. I fucking heard you--” you started.

“Then why’d you ask me to repeat myself?” God, he could be so smug at times. That sinful little smirk around his full lips making you want to smack said smirk right off of his handsome face.

“Pike, I’m not going to pretend to be your little girlfriend at some family holiday shindig just so you can convince your mommy you’re not a perpetual bachelor, or whatever asinine reason you have for this request,” you chided.

The nerve of this guy! And to think, you’d had an Alicia Sliverstone-sized crush on this sweet, good-looking Paul Rudd wannabe!

“Come on, it’s not like that,” he protested, trying to win you over to his (obviously terrible) idea.

“Then what’s it like?” You demanded.

“It’s, uh.. It’s complicated. I was just hoping you’d do this for me? Please? Partner?” He implored. You almost gave in. Those damn puppydog eyes slightly too endearing for their own good-- but, no, you have always been a stick-to-your-guns kinda girl. Marcus Pike’s failed, mid-2000s rom-com of an oddball request wasn’t gonna change anything. But still… you were curious.

“Nope. No way, Pike. If you can’t be honest with me, then why would I do something so obviously-insane for you? Don’t act like I’d be doing you the favor when it’s obvious it’s a favor to you… especially if you won’t even tell me why. We’re partners, we’re supposed to trust each other.” You were resolute.

Marcus looked like he was going to tell you. In that moment, maybe he would have… He opened his mouth slightly as if to speak, before shaking his head slightly and closing his mouth again. As if he’d thought better about trusting you. Fuckin’ insulting.

“Sorry, Ace. I can’t tell you that.”

And with that, you left the room. Screw Pike! Screw him screwing with your feelings. A favor. Honestly!

Two days later, Pike walked into your office with your coffee of choice in one hand, and an apologetic look on his face.

“Look, I’m sorry about the other day. You’re right, it was crazy… it was crazy,” the second time sounded more to himself than to you.

“Bring me caffeine, babe, and all is forgiven,” you chirped, trying to lighten the mood. But it was clear Pike was thinking about something deeply, churning it over in his mind, his ochre eyes swimming with the sea of his own indecision.

“Pike, don’t think too hard. It’s not good for you. I can smell the smoke coming from your ears,” you teased gently.

“Teresa,” he said softly.

“Excuse me?”

“Her name was Teresa. She was my fiance… briefly. It… ended badly. Embarrassingly. I’m not-- I haven’t really been the same since. But I fucked up,” Marcus rambled. You nodded, trying not to interrupt him so he could continue. “I dove in too fast, proposed too soon. She didn’t really want me.”

Your heart panged at his confession. You’d had no idea. Honestly, your status as newbie agent didn’t really afford you to the inner workings of Marcus Pike, and you didn’t want to incite gossip by asking around too much. Being an inquisitive agent because it’s our job isn’t much of a guise if your crush becomes too obvious. Poor Marcus.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Marcus. I really am,” you placed a hand on his shoulder. “No one deserves that. But, um, what does this have to do with you asking me to spend the holidays with you?”

Marcus sighed.

“I told my mom about Teresa. When we were together, anyway. She knows it ended badly. I couldn’t take her smothering. Her pitying glances. Her everything. So, when she asked me about coming home for Christmas, I said I couldn’t because I was spending it with my girlfriend. I panicked. She then insisted I bring said girlfriend to Christmas at their place,” Marcus rushed out. “The problem being, of course, said girlfriend is fictional. Imaginary. Just like some bogus forgerd painting,” he chuckled a bit at his own attempt at humor.

Of course, of everything Marcus had just said, you were most surprised to hear that he was, in fact, single. File that one away for later.

“And your first thought was to ask me to be your fake girlfriend? Pike, that’s a little Hollywood. And not in a good way,” you chided.

“I know,” he moaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “And now she won’t let it go. So please, please, kid. Have pity on me? Come be my girlfriend for a week at Christmas?” He gazed at you pleadingly. “And you were an obvious first choice. You’re a stunner in the field, and smart. I thought you could handle it.”

Damn those eyes. Damn that face. Damn Marcus Pike.

If you hadn’t been caffeinated and in a better mood than the other day, you probably would have said no. Regardless of your caffeinated status, you definitely SHOULD have said no. And yet, here you were, drinking your coffee like it’s your dumb bitch juice.

But still, you couldn’t resist teasing a little.

“Don’t try to flatter me, Pike, it won’t work. I know I’m a good agent. But here, now, I’m just imagining you whining to your mom.” You put on your best, piteous John Mulaney impression, “Can my giiiiirlfriend come?” you mocked.

Pike rolled his eyes at you.

“Fine,” he said, popping himself up from the edge of your desk where he’d been irresistibly leaning since entering your office. “Enjoy your Christmas alone with your cats. I’m sure the ugly sweater looks great with cat hair stuck to it.” He started to walk out the door.

What possessed you to do what you were about to do?

“Pike,” you hollered, stopping him in the doorway. He turned.

“Fine,” you sigh. “I’ll do it.”

You couldn’t put your finger on it. Maybe it was because you really did feel for him. Which you did. Maybe it’s because you didn’t want to be alone. Which you didn’t. But maybe it’s because you were still carrying a torch for Marcus Pike, and the idea of spending Christmas with him was too good to pass up. Even if his whole family was there. Oh, shit. You are so screwed.

He jumped up, wrapping his arms around you quickly.

“Great!” He intoned. “Because I already told my mom it was you.”

“I’m gonna let that one go for now, Pike,” although you were secretly imploding. “Because we need to set some ground rules.”

“Fine.”

So, here you find yourself, days later, standing in the threshold of the Pike family home, where Marcus’s mother had been smothering her son with kisses and coos, waxing poetic about how glad she was that her “baby is finally home!”

And then, like a demonic switch has been turned, she turns to you and greets you (if you want to call it that) nothing short of ice-fucking-cold and a chirp of, “So this is the tart you work with!” before turning on her heel and walking to the kitchen, hollering for Marcus to put his bags down and follow.

The rest of the week passed like that, Marcus’s mother flipping moods so fast it made your head spin like the little girl from “The Exorcist.” Ironic, really, since it was Marcus’s mother who was the damn demon.

“So, Jennifer, where is your family from again?” She’d been calling you “Jennifer” for the entire time. She knew damn well that wasn’t your name. You grinned and bore it, for the sake of her beautiful, idiot son sitting at the table at your side.

You mumbled your name, trying to politely correct her.

“Is that not what I said?”

Honestly. This woman was a piece of work.

“You know, Mrs. Pike, we could get to know each other a lot better if you started with the right name.” You were just trying to lighten the mood a little, but not able to resist a slight jab at this old goat of a woman.

“I’m sure I’ll learn your name, dear, if you stick around long enough for it to be important to remember,” she replied primly, sipping her tea. You wanted to knock the china cup out of her little rat hands.  

UNBELIEVABLE, you thought. Here, you were suffering this horrid woman because at the behest of the ghost of Teresa Lisbon, the recipient of a punishment for a crime you’d done nothing to incite. Guilty by association was still guilty, though, apparently according to Marcus’s mother. If another woman had broken her son’s heart, she obviously felt entitled to regard you with suspicion and disdain.

Marcus was nothing short of apologetic in the peace and quiet of his bedroom, expressing profuse regret from his spot on the floor where he slept. Because of course he would be a perfect gentleman to you and allow you to sleep in his bed during this whole whatever-it-was. And if he was trying to be a gentleman, he was failing. That tight white t-shirt stretched across his fine, firm chest was just fucking rude.

“Marcus, it’s fine,” you insisted. “You have no control over her or her opinions. And I’ve seen and dealt with worse. Federal agent remember?”

As the week pressed on, you were able to temper the rudeness of Marcus’s mother with the intensity of your ever-growing feelings for Marcus. Seeing him at home, in his element, in relaxed clothing was doing something to you. And you weren’t quite ready to admit it. You spent quite a bit of time together, reading in front of the crackling fire in his family’s cozy living room. You played boardgames against his younger brother and his sister-in-law, teaming up to destroy the competition at Codenames.

You’d thought maybe, just maybe, Marcus was developing feelings for you, too, his touch lingering on your waist as he shuffles past you in the kitchen, sending you soft smiles over the pages of his books as you two read. But the more you thought about it, the more you were convinced that Marcus was just being nice and putting on a show for his family.

Until that old goat opened her mouth.

The family dinners were the worst. Marcus’s mother always seemed to sit across from you just so she could glare into you with that unyielding gaze of hers.

“Jennifer, a word?” She asked, as you got up to help clear the table.

Yeah. Where were we? Oh yeah, you were DEFINITELY gonna kill Marcus for talking you into this.

Marcus put the dishes he was carrying down, and squeezed your hand gently.

“It’ll be fine,” he whispers to you, before pressing a soft kiss to your temple, your brain instantly going dumb and numb at the contact, like you were listening to the people in the room from underwater. Nevertheless, you followed her into the kitchen, where you stood, alone, a marble-topped island counter the Switzerland between the two of you.

“Yes, Mrs. Pike?”

“I’m going to be frank with you, dear, I don’t like you,” she stated.

You’d had enough. The wrong name, the cold shoulder, the glares, the hmphs of disdain whenever you talked about the cool cases you were working on. You’d just had enough.

“No shit, Mrs. Pike? I just assumed you’d greeted all of your guests this way, and that’s why there were so many of them here. Because of your warm hospitality,” you snipped.

“Don’t get cute with me. I’m not about to applaud a relationship with my son if it’s just going to end badly.”

Now that gave you pause.

“That Teresa girl really did a number on him. So excuse me if I’m not going to sanction any old relationship. I don’t know you. I don’t want to know you. Not if you’re just going to break his heart. You’re just his co-worker and it should stay that way. Unless you’re serious, especially with the way he looks at you,” she stated firmly.

And you could honestly forgive her in that moment. Almost, anyway. “The way he looks at you” ringing in your ears. You had to say something-- and snark was getting you nowhere. So, you spoke from the heart-- before you could think about it too hard.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Pike. I wasn’t around for any of that. I don’t know much. Only the little Marcus has told me. And I'm not keen on making him relive any of that, or cause him heartbreak,” you paused. “But I wouldn’t do that to him. Because I care about him. Deeply. I really do,” and you just kept going... “I know I’m probably not what you envisioned-- I’m too dedicated to my job, it’s not glamorous, I’m not some subservient little housewife. I’m brash, I’m annoying. All of these things are true. But the biggest truth? Your son means everything to me. And that I won’t apologize for.”

And with that, you left. To go find Marcus and give him a piece of your mind.

You marched upstairs to Marcus’s bedroom, where he was perched on the bed with a book in his lap. You fist your hand into his sweater before yanking him up and planting a firm kiss on  his mouth. Marcus stilled in shock, before reciprocating, kissing you back, cupping his hands to your cheeks. You pulled away, heat pooled in you cheeks, blazing in embarrassment at what you’d just done.

Honestly, what the hell did you just do??

Marcus regards your silence by raising an eyebrow.

“Not that I’m complaining, but what the hell was that?” Marcus asked.

You rushed the words out, knowing you’d retract and redact them from your brain if you waited too long.

“I’m sorry, Marcus. I’m so sorry. Your mom just really got to me… she thinks I’m another… her,” you spared reference to Teresa’s name, mindful of Marcus’s melancholy that followed when she was mentioned. “But I’m not her. I love working with you, Marcus. And I’ve always had a thing for you, if I’m honest. Which I am. But it wasn’t until she really started pushing me that I realized… I care about you, Marcus. I want you, I really do. All of you, even the parts that hurt. I want you,” you professed.

Marcus stood there, shock etching his features, eyes widening and mouth starting to gape.

You bowed your head, blinking back furious tears as you stared hatefully at your shoes. Why would you do that? You thought. You’ve ruined everything, all because that old grackle dug at you too much. And now Marcus hates you.

Marcus’s hands were suddenly in your downcast eyesight, palms resting on your cheeks and urging your face and eyes upward to meet his gloriously shimmering midnight ones.

“I want you, too. God, you drive me crazy, you’re such a punk at work. But, fuck if I can’t stop thinking about you. You make me crazy. And I thought I was the only one. I’d go back to my apartment at the end of the day sad, because I knew you wouldn’t be there. My love is not really the overwhelming kind. Jesus, I just go home and drink rosé and watch ‘Remains of the Day,’” he implores. “But I mean it when I say I want you, too.”

And with that, he slides one hand from its resting place on your cheek to the back of your neck, scooping your face upward for a soft, slanting, warm kiss.

Needless to say, you were fine with Marcus relinquishing the spot on the floor in favor of lying next to you in bed for the remainder of the week.

Now, you held hands while going for brisk, winter-air walks around his neighborhood, despite his mother’s withering gaze. You were always touching, never far from the other’s hand or mind. Marcus’s brother teasing you good-naturedly about your interlocked fingers being “PDA.”

You head back to your lives and back to reality, but still on cloud nine. Sharing kisses before separating to one another’s respective offices at work. Spending weekends at one another’s apartments, making out against any and every surface you can find, your thigh slotting between his as you press together during every conceivable moment you can.

One of these nights finds you laughing about the inception of your relationship, when, inevitably, Marcus’s mother comes up in the conversation. You had spared him the gory details of your kitchen scene in favor of a simpler retelling.

“Honestly, Marcus, your mom hates me,” you implored. “She told me so.”

“She doesn’t hate you…,” Marcus trailed off, “She just doesn’t like you. I’m pretty sure that’s what she told you, if the grapevine was correct,” he smirked.

You slapped him on his chest. The nerve of this guy!

“But that’s okay. Because I like you enough for the both of us,” He said, smiling as he presses his lips to yours for a sugary sweet kiss.

[daydreamed-snippets]

The bell above the entryway jingles as someone slips through the door. Looking up from their work, basting a hem in a customer’s pair of trousers, the villain freezes. 

In the threshold of their store stands their nemesis’ young sidekick. Dressed in unassuming civilian clothing, they stroll in and begin to poke around the front displays of fitted ensembles, single and double-breasted suits, fine gowns, and the like. 

The villain sits there for a minute. Willing themselves to blink, to swallow, or to move their fingers along the soft trouser fabric. Something to start up their heart that stopped dead at the sight. 

It is the movement of a stack of neckties, knocked over by the sidekick that did the trick.

Obliging, their heart roars to life, hammering a threatening beat. Adrenaline dumps into their system like a drug as they flip up the presser foot on their industrial sewing machine, and slide their chair back. They flounder for the long metal bar they secured to the underside of their sewing table. Their powers teeming to life, ready to call specific metals they’d hidden throughout the back of the store to come into their waiting hands.

How the hell did their nemesis find this place anyway? This little hole-in-the-wall tailor shop, near the bottoms in Relictus City? 

Damn it! 

This place is lost now. Their livelihood would likely be burned to cinders in the upcoming crusade. How frustrating, since it took them months to vet a dozen or so locations before choosing this one. Sure that no hero of the Covenant would find it, only to be met with the sidekick’s appearance.

Or was this a joke? Did their nemesis need a hole patched in their super suit? Probably put there by the villain themselves. Their store wasn’t exactly a five-star boutique that most of the heroes preferred. Those were located in the more affluent parts of the city—where the sidekick should be perusing. Not here.

Or maybe this was just karma. The universe’s version of a kick in the teeth. Of punishing them for getting too complacent in this place. Of becoming too accustomed to working odd hours in the little shop then heading upstairs to the maisonette, their living quarters above. They’d placed their major bases (they had three) far from this location, hoping to avoid this very situation. No cross-contamination. They were smart about it. 

Well, it looks like it didn’t work. 

The villain tenses, ready for a fight as the sidekick makes their way through the store. Around unopened boxes and half-dressed mannequins. They sidestep a display case and approach the only other customer there who was browsing, trying to kill time while they waited on that hem. Rocking back on their heels, the sidekick smiled impishly. “Hey? Do you work here?” 

Barely looking up from the rows of tabled dress shirts, the customer shakes their head and gestures towards the back of the store. 

Fuck. 

A power core they hid in the cabinetry near the cash register silently darts into the villain’s hand. They hold it behind their back, trying to stay out of sight until the last moment. This may get messy. And the civilian; their customer….

They glance over at them. Unassuming and pathetically ordinary. The villain supposes they would become an unavoidable casualty in this skirmish. Especially once their nemesis barges through the door, leveling the place. 

Or maybe they could avoid bloodshed. That would be best given that they were probably outnumbered. Scores of Covenant guards and other lesser heroes waiting to pounce just outside of the large bay windows.

The villain takes a step back, hoping such a move wouldn’t draw any attention to themselves. Twelve steps in retreat would take them to the stairs that led to their apartment. If they could only make it…

“I know you’re there,” came the youthful voice. The villain startles, choosing to remain rooted to their spot. They would take their last stand here. The sidekick squeezes between stacks of boxes the villain has yet to unload and comes to the kiosk cash register. “So this is where you’ve been hiding.” 

The villain swallowed, wondering if the kid was wearing a wire. If their nemesis could hear this interaction. If they were loving this ambush. “You’ve disguised this place pretty well. It was really hard to find. But the jig is up. I’m here.”

Even in the loose sweatshirt, beanie and jeans, the sidekick strikes a pose. Chest out, hands on their hips and a wry smile pulling at the corners of their mouth. 

The villain let out a steadying breath and flips on the power core. It swells to life with a low hum. 

“I see that,” they say, on edge. Ready to strike. 

“You’re going to be grateful that it was me, and not someone else. You’ll see that I’m the only one fit for the job.”

“Excuse me?”

The sidekick let out an exasperated sigh. “Sorry. I’m really trying hard to sell myself. That’s what her—I mean, my friend told me to do.”

“...What?”

“You put the ‘help wanted’ ad online? Plus you have a sign out front. I’m here to apply.” They presented the actual sign, holding it up proudly. “I’m here for the job.”

“Ah…,” the villain scrambled to recover. “Do you have any prior experience?”

“Well, no,” they said, shuffling their feet. They place the sign on the kiosk before shoving their hands in the pocket of their sweatshirt. They look hopeful. “But I’m a quick learner.”

What. The. Hell?

“I need an experienced tailor,” the villain said, playing the part. Looking above the sidekick’s head, to the street outside their window. Where was their nemesis? What the hell is this? “I’ve been getting a lot of business lately, and I find myself a bit overwhelmed.”

“Ok, so I can’t sew,” the sidekick starts, “but I can do anything else you need me to. I can sweep, and dust. I can answer phones. I can manage your online store. I’m good with computers. Social media is practically my playground.” They catch the doubtful look on the villain’s face. “Oh, please! It would give you more time to, you know, sew and whatever else you do. I can start as an intern. For a week. No pay. If you don’t like me then you can yeet me out the door. Promise.”

“Ok…” This was an unusual tactic, but maybe their nemesis banked on the hope that the villain wouldn’t recognize them. Stil… they needed more information. Or at least time to figure out what was going on. “Why do you want to work here?”

The sidekick hesitates. “I need to get away...from where I’m at.” They look up at the villain reading their concerned expression. “Oh, no! It’s not like that. I’m not running away. I just want a… vacation.”

“You want a vacation doing menial work?” 

“I want to get away. And to make some money while I do it. You know. To have an emergency fund. Just in case.” They shuffled their feet. “So do I got the job or not. I have six other places to go to before it gets dark. Maybe they’ll hire me if you don’t.”

Interesting. Very interesting. Especially if what the kid says is true that their nemesis doesn’t know that their sidekick is here at all, begging for a job. This could play in their favor. It would be risky. A big risk. On one hand, their nemesis could be playing the long game. Drawing this farce out. Goading the villain into revealing their associates. Base locations. Possible details of their plans. But if their nemesis had no idea the sidekick was here...

“Do your parents know you’re here?” the villain tentatively tries. 

“I don’t live with my parents. But my legal guardian said I could do whatever I wanted with my free time. So, here I am.”

The villain holds their hand out for the crumpled piece of paper tucked in the sidekick’s front pocket. Their resume, the villain assumes and assumes correctly. The sidekick hands it over and they skim its contents. 

Member of the Sidekick Foundation, though it doesn’t say in what capacity. So if the villain was truly clueless, they wouldn’t know if the sidekick was truly a sidekick or just as a full-time student. Their legal guardian is the superhero Fission. Only it doesn’t say that. No, the sidekick has put down Fission’s real name. And their real name. Their age—sixteen years old—and their skills.

Gods, this kid’s naivety was sickening. On this paper alone, the villain had more than what they could garnish from three months of reconnaissance. Names. Place of residence. Contact information. 

“The store opens at 8 am,” the villain instructed, ignoring the sidekick’s delighted face. “Be here at seven. You can start by opening up these boxes, and putting the clothing on hangers. You’ll have to answer the phone if it rings while you’re doing this. Then the shop needs a good dusting and the bathroom in the back needs attention. You will get an hour lunch break, and the day ends at 4 pm.” The villain looked them up and down. “And try to wear something nicer than a sweatshirt.”

The sidekick breaks into a grin, thanks them profusely, and practically sprints out the door. 

The villain hopes they won’t regret this.