Rain fell harshly from the thick, black clouds that hung over Gotham City like a permanent bad omen, hammering it’s warning down on the few good people who ventured out this late at night and the many sketchy folks who made their living at this sort of hour. By the devil’s hour, it would likely be storming; Stiles was glad he’d brought his waterproofs. He parked his car down one of the many dark and secluded alleys the diamond district had to offer and climbed out into the downpour.
He was out of costume, instead choosing to wear a tailored suit that he kept in the back of his closet for occasions where he had to fit in. His red and black outfit, the one he usually wore at this time of night, was bundled up in a ball, hidden inside the back seats of his car. If anyone managed to break in, he doubted they’d find his costume - not before he dealt with them, anyway.
The Iceberg Lounge was as grand and as obnoxious as Stiles had thought it would be. Penguin really didn’t spare any expense when it came to his most prized business venture and Stiles found himself rolling his eyes despite his best efforts. Everything was a cool blue and attacked the senses no matter where you looked. Stiles didn’t know how anyone could spend more than ten minutes in this place without developing a headache. Still, business was booming - which was exactly what Stiles was hoping for.
There, in the centre of the room, not even attempting to hide in the shadows, sat Derek Hale - yes, that Derek Hale.
“Stiles!” Stiles whipped his head to the side, immediately on the defensive at the sound of his name being called but instantly felt his muscles relax as he took in the woman before him. “You came.”
Erica was a bombshell, all decked out in leather pants and jacket with a leopard print, velvet corset underneath. She also sported her gang’s signature choker, a tradition that only she seemed to be keeping up now that the Hale Pack - as the liked to call themselves - had ventured out and left behind their old, cartoonish gimmick.
“For a minute there I thought you’d stood me up,” She pouted, poking out her crimson covered bottom lip.
Stiles looked down, then brought his eyes back up to meet Erica’s, gazing over at her through his lashes in a way he hoped seemed bashful. “I didn’t mean to worry you,” He explained, voice meek.
Erica laughed musically and clapped her hands together once, looking practically overjoyed. “You’re just adorable!” She squealed and snaked one of her arms between Stiles’ own and his side, linking them. “There’s someone you just have to meet!”
Fifteen minutes later and Stiles still hadn’t gotten anything. He was sat at the table of one of the most feared and respected drug lords in all of Gotham, surrounded by crooks and villains - many of which Red had helped put away over the years - and somehow not a single one of them could run their mouths just this once. He knew Whittemore was a talker. Just last month the blond haired ‘beta’ had accidentally aided Banshee in locking up half of the upper east side alone. Tonight, however, his lips were decidedly sealed.
It must be Hale, Stiles thought, bringing his strangely coloured drink to his lips. It tasted weird, though Stiles wasn’t exactly surprised. Most of the overpriced shit in this joint was odd, to say the least. There’s no way any of them will slip up with their boss at the table.
“You’re staring,” Derek purred, placing his glass back down on the table and pushing it aside. It was quickly carried away by a shifty looking waitress. “Do you have something to say to me, puppy?”
Stiles’ mouth dropped open into a small ‘o’ shape. He blinked, feeling his cheeks beginning to heat and cleared his throat. “U-um, n-no sir-”
“Oh, Derek,” Erica chastised, saving Stiles’ ass. It didn’t matter that she was one of the most thoroughly twisted people Stiles had ever met; he was buying her something pretty tomorrow. “Don’t bully him. The poor boy probably just got lost in your eyes or something,” The girl grinned wickedly and Stiles decided she wasn’t getting anything pretty after all.
“Or something,” Derek said easily before pushing himself away from the table and coming over to stand directly behind Stiles. All of the hair on the back of his neck stood to attention and his skin almost glowed with heat. He hadn’t been this close to Derek since… “Would you care for this dance?”
Sure that he had been found out, Stiles snapped his head back to look up at the drug lord with startled eyes. “What?”
Derek just smirked, “Would you like to dance with me?”
That… could work. He wasn’t going to get any info out of the pack tonight, that was for sure, but maybe he could get something out of Derek once they were alone. If there was one thing he knew, it was how to make Derek Hale sing… though he wasn’t sure if the tactics he usually used would be welcome amongst high society - even if they were all technically criminals.
“Um, of course,” Stiles blushed - because nothing said weak and harmless like blushing in front of a handsome man who was responsible for the death of hundreds at his own hands and possibly thousands at the hands of others. The handsome man part helped significantly. It didn’t matter how many times he stared into the eyes of the alpha, his knees still got weak and his dick still got hard. Well, not right now, though… obviously.
Derek led Stiles out onto the packed dance floor and pulled him flush against his chest. The lights were up, as was the norm, and from this position, Stiles could see every fleck of the blues and greens that made up Derek’s dazzling eyes. They were gorgeous, just like the rest of him and it took everything within Stiles not to give in to his desires and lean forward, tasting Derek’s stubble surrounded lips. He wasn’t sure how he managed to control himself but somehow found it to simply sway with the slow music from the band.
“If you don’t mind me saying, you look delicious tonight, Stiles,” Derek’s voice was like honey, thick and warm as it poured over Stiles, making him shudder. “If you’re not careful, someone might eat you up.”
“I’m not worried,” He replied, trying to appear as unaffected as possible. It wasn’t very possible.
“No?” Derek raised both of his eyebrows. Like that he looked almost innocent and it made part of Stiles smile - the other part of him was horrified; if there was one thing Derek Hale was not, it was innocent.
Stiles tilted his chin up and looked over Derek’s shoulder. He was only a little bit offended by Derek’s lack of faith in his abilities to take care of himself - after all, there was no way for Derek to know who he really was. “I’m tougher than I look.”
“That’s good to know. A young thing like you needs to know how to defend himself, especially in a place like this. You never know what could happen when you’re surrounded by a bad crowd.”
The pack were back at the table, all crowded around each other and gossiping while their eyes stayed glued directly to Derek’s back. Erica made eye contact with him and winked, smiling wolfishly. If he wasn’t careful, he might find himself caring for that girl.
“How do you know I’m not part of that bad crowd?” Stiles asked, turning his eyes away from Erica and back to Derek. That was a mistake. The light and somewhat lofty expression Derek had been wearing earlier was gone and replaced by something different, something Stiles couldn’t quite put his finger on.
“Oh, just a feeling…” He muttered, bright eyes turning dark - and maybe just a little red. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before. Not here, at least.”
“The Iceberg Lounge isn’t really my scene,” Stiles admitted and blinked away, starting to feel hot under the collar and just the tiniest bit wobbly. He’d probably let Erica pour far too many drinks down his throat… probably.
“You don’t come here a lot,” Derek said, no hint of a question in his voice as he lightly brushed his lips against the lobe of Stiles’ ear.
Stiles gulped, “No. This would be the first time.”
“Good,” Derek whispered and his grip on Stiles’ waist and hand tightened. He was pretty sure the man wasn’t smiling. “Make sure you don’t come back.”
“You don’t want me here?” He whispered in response, trying to add a little hurt into his tone.
“You’re surrounded by the equivalent of the shit on the bottom of Gotham’s shoe. I don’t want them anywhere near you,” Derek growled and pulled Stiles closer - if that was even possible -until Stiles’ face was crushed into the alpha’s shoulder. He smelt good, spicy and warm - like home. It wasn’t difficult to let his eyes fall shut, to slowly allow his body to shut down as he collapsed into the cradle of Derek’s safe and gentle arms.
He was too far gone to register it, but somewhere in the back of his cloudy mind, he heard Derek’s soft voice whisper an apology.
in third grade, my friend said she’d trade me her holographic charizard for my hoo movie mew card. shady bitch backed out on the deal so when she went downstairs, i shoved her entire deck down my pants and replaced it with shitty element cards
SO. Britney Spears tweeted me. My #1! My queen, my mom, my idol. I got the notification and started breathing really really really hard and ran out onto my back deck panting and jumping and spazzing and crying. My life is literally made.
“So now, on the eve of what everyone expects to be your 6th Oscar nomination and possibly your 4th win, what’s running through your head, Jennifer?” Asks the inquisitive Diane Sawyer for the annual award season kick off spotlight interview.
The blonde bashfully looks around and nervously taps her fingers on her thigh, “Honestly? All I can think of right now is that I’m hungry and that I really hope my husband isn’t in there burning dinner. I smell things, my sense of smell is incredibly strong,” she replies hoping for a break soon after the previous hour and a half of questioning.
This is a Captain Swan: Choose Your Own Adventure story where you choose the plot (details here) It’s part of my Follower Appreciation (thanks guys!).
When Regina seeks revenge for Cora’s death and a happy ending with Henry something goes horribly wrong. A canon divergence fic from 2x20 “The Evil Queen” where Regina’s failsafe isn’t an auto-destruct. Back in the Enchanted Forest Emma and Killian are forced to pretend to be married while they figure out what happened.
Killian emerges on deck to find Emma leading two coachmen as they struggle with a trunk. She has exchanged her gown for a pair of blue leather breeches and waistcoat with a plain white cotton shirt underneath. Her hair is caught up in a long tail with a few hairs teasing their way out. She looks ready for an adventure and the thought makes him smile. His earlier trepidation melts away. If this is the last opportunity he has to spend time with Swan he will make the most of it.
“Welcome aboard, m'lady.”
Emma turns at his voice, smiles at his over exaggerated bow and crosses the deck to him.
“There you are!” Her voice is overly bright, a tone he has come to associate with her princess facade. They embrace, like a wife and husband who have endured a short separation; although Killian imagines if Emma was his wife he would never greet her with anything less than an enthusiastic kiss. He contents himself with swift kiss on her cheek. Her hair tickles his nose as she pulls back and unthinking he smoothes it and tucks it behind her ear. Her eyelashes flutter but she frowns slightly and he snatches his hand away. He puts distance between them and turns his attention to the coachmen. He instructs them on where to place the trunks and how to reach his cabin. As they disappear below decks Killian sweeps his arm to encourage Emma to follow them. She shoots him a strange look but descends below after them.