CoyoteCoven

¸¸♬·¯·♪·¯·♫¸¸ 20+ | English | They/Them¸¸♫·¯·♪¸♩·¯·♬¸¸ I write sometimes! On AO3 as CoyoteCoven

[coyotecoven]

hi! i came across endorphins part one and noticed the entitled text is doubled.

Oh my GOD that's so embarrassing.

I've had that post up for over a MONTH and never noticed 😭🫩 I have no idea how I managed to do that, but it has now been fixed!

Thank you so much Anon, I owe you my life 😭😭

[coyotecoven]

Endorphins Pt.2

★Julian Dillinger X Fem!Reader 18+★

You and your childhood rival, Julian Dillinger, meet after many years of no contact. As respected CEOs of competing companies, surely you can remain professional?

~ Part One ~

info: Minors DNI (18+ content ahead), smut with plot, p in v sex, rivals with benefits, angst, no use of y/n for reader insert, reader is CEO of Encom, i stole the one-shot title from a Don Broco song

Word count: ~3.2k

c/w: kind of hate sex, implied unprotected sex, very brief mention of blood

a/n: This is a long-ish one-shot that needed to be split into two parts to be able to properly fit into a tumblr post. Part one is linked above if you are interested! I highly recommend going back to it if you have not yet read it as it provides much needed backstory for the setting.

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You didn’t catch a glimpse of Dillinger after that. He had managed to find somebody who worked for the event to come and help you, although there wasn't much they could do for a sprain. Regardless, they assisted you to the stage and gave you a seat so you could deliver your presentation. From all you could tell, it had been a major success, with dozens of attendees eager to chat with you once all the speakers had performed, wanting to know everything from how you had made the machine so low-cost to how the accuracy of the mammogram had been measured. Much to your own glee, you were easily able to answer everything that was asked without any anxieties, thanks to your numerous hours spent rehearsing responses in your head. 

Once everybody had moved on, now visibly interested in socialising amongst themselves, you took your heels off and limped back in the direction of the stairwell; there was no point in trying to further impress when you had already proven your worth as a CEO. Your ankle, even though it still ached, definitely felt better than before; not well enough to comfortably use the stairs, but you could get around the venue without help. You figured that you could probably shuffle up the stairs on your rear if you took your time, and from there you could rest in your room for the remainder of the evening to allow your foot to recover.

You pushed the door open, shoes in hand, and choked at the sight of Julian lingering at the bottom of the stairwell. 

“Jesus, Dillinger! What are you doing there?” You spluttered. 

“The elevator still isn’t fixed,” he deadpanned, “and you’re still stumbling around the place like a drunkard. We’re on the same floor; come on.” Dillinger offered his arm to you again, which you took hesitantly. 

“You waited for me?” You asked in mistrust. He didn’t respond -- something you noticed was a habit when he didn’t want to reveal anything too intimate -- and hooked his arm around your midriff for the second time that day. 

It was a bit more of a struggle to get you up the stairs than it was to go down, but Julian didn’t make any complaints. “I saw your presentation,” he started. “It was interesting. I told you that you didn’t need to worry about your looks.”

“Really? You liked it?”

“It was serviceable,” he retorted, smirking down at you. “And of course I watched it. ENCOM is my biggest competitor; I should know you’re up to.”

“Oh yeah? When’s your speech, then?” You nudged him when you asked, to which he just squeezed your hip.

“We’re not speaking at this conference. We just had a product launch recently, so I’m more here just for appearances' sake since we come every year.”

You huffed in disbelief and chuckled to yourself. “To think I could have kept my multiple-year streak of neither seeing nor talking to you if you hadn’t turned up.”

Julian snorted as he hoisted up another step. “As if I could deprive you of the opportunity to gaze upon my handsome face. I’m sure curiosity was eating you alive after all these years.”

“Not at all. I’d seen you in the news and on magazine covers. Even if I hadn’t, you were only a quick Google search away.”

“You’ve seen my magazines? I knew you were obsessed with me; I bet you have them pinned up in your shitty little office,” he teased.

“Yeah, on a dart board.” You heard Dillinger chuckle beside you, which he quickly tried to mask with a cough. 

“Don’t start. Not when I could easily push you down the stairs, which, by the way, is incredibly tempting. It would certainly make my professional life easier.” Dillinger gave you a lopsided grin, his eyes twinkling under the fluorescent lights on the walls. “You force me to work harder than I like.”

“So you’re saying I make you a better businessman? Cute. Knew you liked me, really.”

He clicked his tongue. “You’re insufferable.” Julian helped you up the last step and held the door to your floor open for you, watching you intently as you struggled ahead. He stayed close to your side while you headed towards your room across the hallway, despite you no longer needing him. 

“As are you. Though I suppose you’re… less insufferable than you used to be.”

Julian smiled earnestly at you, causing you to falter. You could never have imagined him doing such a thing, especially towards you, and looking good while doing it. “That’s a lot of words just to say ‘thank you for carrying my clumsy ass upstairs’, but you’re welcome,” he said. 

You fumbled with your key card for your room door, eventually hearing the lock click open for you to enter. The gust of cold from your air-conditioning unit provided you with some immediate solace, and you sighed deeply. You couldn’t wait to just throw yourself onto your bed, order some room service, and settle in for the evening to fully rest up for the next day of the tech conference. “This is me, I guess. Will I be seeing you tomorrow?”

He nodded affirmatively. “I’ll be around.”

“Well, you’ll know where to find me if the elevator is still down,” you joked, gesturing towards your foot. “I’m glad to see you in good health, Dillinger.” You gave him a half smile and began to close your door, but Julian stuck out his hand to stop you.

“By the way,” he blurted, “about that thing you asked earlier?”

“The thing?” You positioned yourself against the doorframe, giving him a scrutinising look as you tried to figure out what he was referring to. “What are you… Oh, the kiss?”

“Yes, that,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “Look, I was a teenager trying to figure things out, that’s all there really was to it.”

“Figure out what?” You raised an eyebrow at him, having been thrown off by his uncharacteristic awkwardness. He had always been the type to be very blunt in his communication towards you, and hated mincing his words. His eyes dropped to the floor while he considered what he wanted to say next, which only piqued your interest more. 

“I was figuring out… teenage things.” Julian scratched the back of his head awkwardly and opened his mouth to say something further, but decided to snap it shut. 

“Oh, hell no. You don’t get to back out now. What do you mean by ‘teenage things’?”

He prickled and narrowed his eyes at you, but clarified as you requested. “We were teenagers, we’d been bickering for so long, and you were so frustrating… I was confused about everything, so that’s what I ended up doing. You know, figuring things out.”

You softened at his admission. You had to admit, it was nice to finally get an answer all these years later after burying the event in the back of your mind, and it may have actually been quite cute if he hadn’t waited so long to tell you. “And did you figure things out?” You enquired. 

“I did.”

“And?”

He sighed and seemed to relax now that he had been honest with you, managing to drag his eyes up to your face once more. “It didn’t matter. We were going to college, so it was rather poor timing on my end. Plus, I was still pissed.” 

“Come on, it’s been ten years, and then some!” You grinned and playfully shoved his shoulder. “Stop being so mysterious. Give me some closure; it’s the least you could do after accusing me of cheating.”

“Closure?” Dillinger sounded intrigued by your choice of words. “So you thought about me?”

It seemed as though the tables had turned, and now you were the one put on the spot. “Well, it was kind of difficult not to think about you when you were a CEO all of a sudden.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “You’re avoiding the subject again, aren’t you?”

He held his hands up in surrender. “In my defence, you’re opening up old wounds.”

“Me?” You blustered, looking at him as if he had grown a second head. “What did I do?”

“It’s complicated, alright? I thought I was over it, and then I see you again after all this time, and it all comes flooding back because apparently I didn’t sit with it for long enough.”

“But I thought you just said that you’d figured stuff out? Which is it, because you’re complicating this more than you really need to, Dillinger. Nothing is ever simple with you. You really haven’t changed --”

Julian stepped forward and pressed his mouth to yours, the same as he had done at that house party. It felt a little different this time; more practised and mature than when you were teenagers. His hand cradled your face, giving you space to break away if you wanted to. “At least that still works. You haven’t really changed either.” He blinked at you, seemingly debating whether or not to let you go again.

You felt like your brain clouded over, having dropped your shoes to the floor and pulled him deeper into your room by his clothes. “Shit,” he breathed, pushing you back against the door.

You let out a little gasp of pain from the sudden weight put on your bad ankle, to which Julian muttered a quick apology and picked you up, peppering kisses across your face and neck. You wrapped your legs around him for extra support, gripping his shoulders tightly. He nipped at your throat, and you let out a little groan against his lips. He closed the deadbolt on your door and went back to kissing you, licking at your mouth to coax you into letting him inside.

His tongue brushed against yours, setting the pace he wanted and savouring the taste of you. You found that your hands had travelled up his neck to the back of his head, trying to tangle themselves in his hair, made difficult because of the egregious amounts of gel he had used. Dillinger pulled away to look around your room and search for the bed, seeing it covered with the contents of the suitcase you had packed and rolled his eyes.

“Do you always ruin the mood prematurely?” He jeered, plopping you the desk nearby to clear the bed of all the clutter. “You’re here for two days, why is there so much stuff? Are you seriously that high maintenance?”

“Well, excuse me for not planning on there being a mood to ruin,” you retorted. “In fact, I had planned on avoiding you entirely.”

“Yeah? Look how that turned out.” He strolled back over to you, scooping you up to transfer you onto the bed, kissing down your collarbone. “I should’ve done this years ago.” He dragged his fingers up the bottom of your thigh, sending shivers up your spine. “You’re so confusing. You're the most difficult woman I've ever had the displeasure of coming across, yet here I am.”

“Perhaps you’re a masochist?” You suggested.

“And what are you?” He slid his middle finger beneath your cotton underwear and into your awaiting cunt. You had only just gotten damp, and he was determined to work you up even more. His lips found your neck again while he pumped his finger in and out of you, using his thumb to rub slow circles around your clit. You groaned and tilted your head back to give Julian better access to the sensitive skin he was focusing on. He let out a purr of approval and nuzzled your jaw with his nose, his hot breath tickling you pleasantly. “I should have done this years ago…”

You twisted your torso and began to unbutton his shirt, running your hands across each inch of flesh you revealed. “Maybe, but I wouldn’t have let you do this years ago. I'm not sure why I’m letting you do it now.” 

Dillinger chuckled and inserted a second finger into you, curling them until you squirmed beneath him. “I think that you’re just finally being honest with yourself. All that resentment, all that rage… it was always going to lead to this eventually.” 

“I think you’re delusional.” You didn’t sound secure in your conviction, especially since your wet walls were contracting around his digits as if they were trying to keep him in place. Your body couldn’t help but betray you; you wanted to keep up your contentious front, but you could tell by the look in Julian’s eyes that he wasn’t buying it. The smirk etched on his face pissed you off, and the only way your hazy brain could think of getting rid of it was by tangling your tongue with his, much to his satisfaction. You traced the outline of the soft abs that had been hiding underneath his clothes, feeling him shudder, which made you all the more eager to rid him of the rest of the fabric that covered his body. 

As if he detected your intentions, he undid the rest of the buttons and threw the shirt to the floor and sharply turned his attention back on you, straddling your legs. “Stop being snarky,” he barked. “You've always been obsessed with me, and you know it.” He pushed up the skirt of your dress, while a different hand found its way around your back to the zipper. “This is coming off. Now.”

He didn’t give you much time to prepare yourself for the flurry of material blinding you as he yanked it over your head, exposing you to the chilly air of the room. The opportunity to shiver never came, as Julian wrapped himself around you and enveloped you with his body heat while feeling up every dip and curve you had. 

“Who knew that under all that stubborn abrasiveness that you could be so beautiful,” Dillinger said, squeezing your ass gently. “Fuck, come here.” He gripped your throat and hauled you forward, crushing your mouth against his. There was a lascivious hunger behind the kiss that was missing before, but now it had made itself known; you couldn’t help but admit how infectious it was. You met him with equal fervour, clawing at his back like a wild animal. The distinct flavour of iron flooded your senses, though you were too preoccupied to really tell whose blood it actually was.

He crawled over you, and you heard the clink of a belt buckle being undone and removed. One of his hands remained on your neck, trapping you in the kiss, while the other tried its best to pull his trousers down his legs. 

The next thing you knew, your underwear was on the other side of the bed, with Julian poised in front of you in all his glory, already dripping pre-cum onto your stomach. Black ink shrouded his entire torso, and you were convinced that there was some kind of story behind it that you would have to find out another day; there was no possibility that Dillinger would let you distract him with questions when he had his old rival pinned under him. 

“Last chance to tell me that you actually have some kind of boyfriend at home,” he said, carefully draping your injured foot over his shoulder. 

“As if you care,” you scoffed. “And do you seriously think I would be here if that was the case?”

“Yes, I do. And you’re right --” Julian lined up his cock to the entrance of your core, pressing the bulbous tip into your folds “-- I don’t care at all.” He drove his thick length into you until he bottomed out, making sure you felt his every contour while you adjusted to his shape. You whined and wanted to hold him again, but with the position he had put you in, you found yourself unable to. Beginning to pump into you at a painfully slow pace, a wicked grin spread across his face. “Now that was a very pretty noise.”

“Why does everything you say sound condescending?” You panted, trying to tilt your hips to bring him deeper inside of you. He cackled and sped up, snapping his pelvis against yours.

“Because it’s you, you pain in my ass.” He let out a breathy chuckle that contorted into a moan halfway, and he buried his face into your neck. “It’s hard to poke fun at you when you feel this. Fucking. Good.” He emphasised his words with a bullish thrust that stung in the best way conceivable. 

Pleasure began to build up inside you as he fucked you hard, his dick stretching your barriers and hitting your cervix. Every burst of pain made you feel dirty, acting as a reminder of who the current man in your bed was. It was bad enough that you two had the history that you did, but the added professional conflict practically guaranteed waking up with regrets the next day. 

You gasped out his name against your will, causing him to noticeably quiver, and he bit down on your shoulder. The fucker was marking you, making sure that there was no way you would be able to deny what had happened between you now. 

“Cum for me,” he demanded. Dillinger’s length twitched inside of you, and the fluttering of his eyelids told you that he was reaching the end of his tether. He rubbed your clit again -- granted that he was definitely dedicated to bringing you to orgasm first out of pride rather than genuine care for you. Unfortunately for your ego, it appeared that he would be successful in his effort, as much as you wanted to have something other than decade-old grades to hold over his head. 

The familiar sensation of your cunt contracting overwhelmed you, and you yelped when you felt your release spill out of you onto his cock. Julian convulsed and pulled out of you, discharging his semen across your chest. He took a deep breath before kissing your forehead in a gesture you couldn’t quite decode, and got up to take some toilet paper from the bathroom to clean you up with. 

“Thank you,” you said when you took the paper from his hand. He plopped himself on your bed next to you and watched you curiously while you wiped yourself off. “Sorry, am I supposed to say something?”

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to,” he replied. “I’m just admiring the view.”

You snorted and shook your head. “Maybe that stuff would have worked on me when I was 18, but not now.”

“I know. Evidently, you have a thing for hate sex; although, it didn’t seem like you hated me that much.”

“Don’t push your luck.”

Dillinger held his hands up in defeat -- not that he meant it -- and pulled up your duvet to cover up your waist once you had lain back down next to him. You both stared at each other for a while until you couldn’t stand the awkwardness anymore and rolled over to face away from him. He hooked his arm over your waist, which turned out to be an enjoyable sensation when he wasn’t trying to wind you up. You sighed and closed your eyes; it didn’t take you very long to fall asleep. 

Julian waited until he was completely sure you were no longer awake to get out of the bed, pulling on his clothes silently. He stretched and padded over to the exit to attempt to leave without disturbing you. He took one last glance over his shoulder at your unconscious figure and frowned. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, just before the door snapped shut behind him. 

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[coyotecoven]

Endorphins Pt.1

★Julian Dillinger X Fem!Reader★

You and your childhood rival, Julian Dillinger, meet after many years of no contact. As respected CEOs of competing companies, surely you can remain professional?

~ Part 2 (18+) ~

Info: rivals with benefits, angst, no use of y/n for reader insert, reader is CEO of Encom, i stole the one-shot title from a Don Broco song

Word count: ~3k

c/w: none for part 1 -- part 2 will be explicit in nature and specific warnings will be tagged there

a/n: This is a long-ish one-shot that needed to be split into two parts to be able to properly fit into a tumblr post. I've never written a one shot before so I hope this is serviceable! I will post part two in the next few days :)

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There was only one person who had ever gotten underneath Julian Dillinger’s skin: his old school rival. 

You had switched to a new high school in your sophomore year, and, unlucky for you, you had been placed in a handful of classes next to Julian Dillinger. From the moment you met him, you could tell he had an inflated ego and had most certainly been raised with one hell of a silver spoon in his mouth. You had quickly figured out he had always been the top of the class with no contest, and had become entirely complacent. He never studied and was forever gloating about how effortlessly he achieved his exemplary grades.

The day you got a higher mark than him on a history exam was the first time you ever saw him open a book to study -- clearly, he had been quite shaken by the concept of somebody else being better than him. 

From then on, a rivalry would develop between you, with you constantly trying to one-up each other in your tests and social standings. Everyone in your year knew of your endless bickering battles, and it had almost become a monthly event to see who would score higher. Every success gave you something to hold over Julian’s head, and every failure pushed you to study harder, just to bring that boy’s ego down closer to Earth. 

This competition you had going on lasted until the end of your senior year, where, once and for all, you would find out who the superior academic was. Your Finals came and went, and the wait to find out your results felt agonisingly prolonged. When the day finally arrived, part of you had been a little nervous. After all the years of fighting, a mutual respect had blossomed from the hate; you had both become better students because of your actions, having kept each other on your toes for so long. Dillinger had been a formidable foe, and you recognised the possibility of him besting you the one time it truly mattered. However, your fears were misplaced: you had done it. You had won. Sure, you had only beaten him by one or two points, but it didn’t matter. A win was a win. 

Unsurprisingly, Dillinger had been furious at the outcome. He hadn’t had to say anything; you could tell by his set jaw and protruding vein on the side of his face. What you hadn’t foreseen was being invited to his end-of-year party -- a small celebration of your class’s freedom before you all left for college. As much as you wanted to decline his reluctant invite, you turned up anyway. The last thing you wanted to look like was a sore winner. 

The party was exactly what you had expected from a teenage Dillinger, with copious amounts of alcohol sourced from god knows where and rooms full of classmates, despite minimal decorations. Music blared through unfathomably expensive speakers, though the man himself was nowhere to be found. 

You eventually crossed paths with him when you left the bathroom, seeing him leaning up against a wall away from the crowd.

“I’m surprised you invited me, Dillinger, considering that I am officially better than you,” you said. 

Julian scoffed and rolled his eyes, straightening his back to stand over you. “Trust me, I don’t want you here. If I invited everybody but you, I’d look pathetic and butthurt. I decided to be the better man.”

“But you are butthurt, aren’t you? God forbid someone, especially a woman, be more knowledgeable than you,” you grinned, flicking the end of his nose.

He narrowed his eyes, craning his head to stare down at you. “Being a woman has got nothing to do with it. I think this is a case of stolen valour.”

“Are you for real? You think I cheated?” 

“No, I know you cheated. I don’t know how, but you did.”

“Jesus -- this is pathetic, even for you, Dillinger,” you snapped. “You know I didn’t cheat; you’re just trying to make yourself feel better about losing by conjuring up fantasies in your head. It’s not like we’re going to see each other again; we're going to college soon.”

“Thank god. I can sleep soundly knowing I can continue my education and career in peace.” Julian crossed his arms over his chest, allowing a small smirk to grace his features. “Oh yes, because I’ll actually already have a job waiting for me once I finish college, won’t I?”

You jabbed a finger into his shoulder and scowled at him. “Only because you’re a Nepo baby. Gotta keep granddaddy’s legacy going, huh? Are you planning on stealing your employee’s code, too?”

His face darkened, and he grasped your hand tightly, stopping you from poking him further. “Don’t. You don’t know anything about my family.”

You took a step closer, realising that you had struck a nerve in him. “Oh, but I do. The information isn’t exactly hard to find. All it took was a quick Google search, and I went down a rabbit hole.”

“You’re obsessed with me,” Julian growled.

“I heard that Granddad Dillinger took Flynn’s code to get promoted in ENCOM. Is that true?”

“Stop.”

“The fallout from that was pretty bad, wasn’t it? Disgraced CEO, robbing the people who made him money. Being booted from the company had to hurt pretty bad. And being replaced by Flynn, too? Oof, double whammy --”

Julian cut you off abruptly by pressing his lips to yours, spinning you to pin your arm above your head on the wall. Before you could stop yourself, you gasped, which allowed him an opening to push his tongue into your mouth to caress yours. Just as quickly as it had started, he pulled back, looking flushed and frustrated. 

“If I’d have known it was that easy to get you to stop talking before, I would have done that years ago,” he breathed. “Enjoy the rest of the party.”

You didn’t see him again after that. Dillinger walked out of your life as if he had never been there in the first place. Over time, you had gotten used to the idea of him being gone and stopped thinking about him after a few months of being at college. 

You didn’t think about him when you graduated, you didn’t think about him when you started your job, you certainly didn’t think about him as you rose through the ranks in ENCOM, but of course, that security couldn’t last forever. 

Just when you were about to make it big, Dillinger Systems announced its news: Julian Dillinger was their new CEO. His face was plastered all over the tabloids, with that air of superiority practically dripping off of his pictures in droves. It was like he was still taunting you after all these years of zero contact, even though he had no idea you were working for his direct competitor. 

Your promotion came soon afterwards, and almost immediately, the insults started back up as if no time had passed at all. Snide comments and embarrassing factoids from your time together at high school would be shared at any moment you could take a dig at each other, and although unintentional, it made for great headlines. 

The feud between you was no longer a petty school drama, but a worldwide spectacle, one where you now felt obligated to turn up to every professional event you were invited to, as saying no would risk Dillinger looking like the more favourable CEO than you, and you were sure he felt the same. Somehow, you had managed to avoid being in the same room as him since taking over ENCOM, despite all of the interviews and seminars you had attended throughout your tenure. 

Luck would eventually run out for you, though, when you were invited to be a speaker at the largest technology conference in Center City: a huge event that many companies would kill for the opportunity to attend. Unfortunately, Dillinger Systems had frequently showcased new products there, so you couldn’t allow yourself the luxury of doubting that he would be present. 

As a treasured guest of the conference, the organisation was going to provide you with a complimentary two-night stay at the hotel where the event was taking place, including a three-course meal with all the other speakers on the second evening. You were due to speak on the first day, a few hours after you had checked in at the hotel, and had packed the smartest dress that you owned for the occasion. The shoes you had brought were, admittedly, suboptimal for walking around the conference; however, you weren’t exactly planning on spending a full day there. You were to make your announcement, mingle for a little while (preferably in the same spot), and retire back to your room for the night -- anything to avoid encountering Julian. 

You clicked the button to call the lift to your floor, ready to give your presentation at the venue. You waited for a while, but you couldn’t hear the usual sounds of the whirring electronics signifying any kind of movement within the lift shaft. 

“It’s broken, ma'am,” a voice from behind you said. “I just rang the staff to let them know, but you’ll have to take the stairs for now, regretfully.”

You sighed and were about to make some kind of dry comment along the lines of ‘of course this happens on the one day I picked heels’ until you turned around and saw the man who had been talking to you, stopping you dead in your tracks. 

“No… way…” Julian mused, staring at you wide-eyed. “Why the hell are you here?”

“For the same reason as you, Dillinger, I was invited.” You tried to keep your tone even, but you knew that your combined distaste and shock must have been plastered across your face. 

He sniggered at that, his lips pulling into a condescending smirk. “Seriously? You expect me to believe that? What the hell does a video games company have to announce at the most prestigious tech conference in the city? Flappy Bird 2?” He taunted. 

“Ha. Very funny,” you sneered. “I see you’ve lost all your baby fat, but not your sense of humour.”

“And I see you haven’t grown up at all.” Julian gave you an appraising look and rubbed his chin. “But you’ve definitely grown out…”

You glowered at him before you stormed off towards the doorway that led to the stairwell. “Fuck you, Dillinger.”

“I’ll pass!” He said, following behind you. You slammed the door shut instantly after passing through it before Dillinger could get any closer. “Yeah, real mature for the ENCOM CEO!”

You cursed the broken lift and your choice of shoes, having been forced to slow your pace to prevent yourself from falling face-first down the stairs. It didn’t take Julian much effort to catch up with you, and he was on your tail again in no time at all. 

“And you didn’t answer my question, by the way,” he admonished. “What is ENCOM doing here? This isn’t E3, or Xbox Live, or whatever other gaming conventions geeks like to go to.”

Being careful not to trip in your enraged state, you replied. “First of all, E3 is defunct and has been for years. Second of all, I don’t answer to you.”

“That much is true, but if you’re being honest about being a speaker, I’m going to find out anyway, so you may as well tell me now.”

“Fine. I’m putting more focus into our non-gamer initiatives, and we’re announcing a breakthrough product in medical technology,” you relented. “We’ve made a low-cost mammogram machine, one that is more accurate than any other on the market. We’re very proud of it.”

Dillinger made a thoughtful noise. “Interesting. But I think your view is too narrow. You aren’t doing anything new. It’s very tame.”

“This is life-saving tech, Dillinger! Low-cost machinery could help get medical care to low-income regions. How is that narrow?” You almost couldn’t believe what you had just heard. You hadn't been expecting praise or any kind of respect from him, but this seemed a bit extreme, even for him. 

“There’s little money in that. If you want to make actual profit, military and defence technology is the way to go. The government is willing to spend despicable amounts on that sort of thing.” The grin on his face was audible, and that pissed you off more. “Trust me; I would know.”

“And you’re okay with knowing that your work will be used to take the lives of innocents? Do they not matter?” You asked, seething.

“What do I care? They’re enemies of the state, and as far as I see, I’m doing this country a service,” he shrugged. 

“You know something, Dillinger?” You spat, looking over your shoulder to glare at him. “Your lack of integrity is astonishing, although I should have suspected you’d be the same, arrogant, spoiled son of a --” Your heel scraped against a step, sending you tumbling down with a cry. 

A firm hand reached out and grabbed your arm, jerking you upwards and stopping you from crashing onto hard concrete below you.

“Could you have worn worse shoes?” Julian grumbled, grunting at the effort of pulling you up to stand on your own two feet.

“I hadn’t exactly planned on a broken elevator, Dillinger,” you winced when you put weight on your foot that you had tripped on, and lowered yourself to take a seat on a step. 

“Twisted ankle?” Julian asked with no perceptible emotion in his voice. 

You wanted to make some kind of scathing remark. Still, you decided against it, considering he had just prevented you from breaking your face open scarcely before your big exhibition-- not that you were going to thank him for that. You rubbed your ankle and recoiled. “Yeah, definitely twisted. Not majorly, but it still stings like a bitch. Damnit.”

He sighed and held out his arm to you. “Come on. Let’s just get down to the lobby so we can go our separate ways.”

You eyed him suspiciously, as if the moment you took his offer, he would push you down the stairs anyway. Dillinger tutted and rolled his eyes at you. 

“Well, I’m not going to carry you down there, am I? Not unless you admit you cheated during your Finals. I know you won’t do that, though, so hurry up before I just abandon you here.”

For once, he actually got a genuine chuckle out of you. “That’s because I didn’t cheat, Dillinger.” You took his arm and let him help you to your feet, where he then wrapped his hand around your waist to keep you stable.

“Seriously, though. Why the hell did you pick those heels? They’re killer, and I mean that as an insult,” he said. 

“I wanted to look nice and have people take me seriously,” you replied nonchalantly.

“Why wouldn’t they take you seriously? If you believe your mammogram thing is as good as you claim it is, that should be enough to win people over. This isn’t a beauty pageant -- you could turn up in a fursuit, and as long as you have made a good product, people will respect you.”

“That’s easy for you to say, Dillinger, but you forget I don’t have what you do. You have a family legacy to lean back on. You know, your name is literally on the company building. You don’t have to earn respect because it’s automatically given. I’ve had to work my ass off just to be on the same level as you.”

“There’s that narrow mindset again,” he asserted, with his hand still holding your midsection tightly. “Flynn chose you for a reason, didn’t he? Why would you be CEO if nobody in the company respected you? Legacy isn’t everything, you know.”

You took some time to absorb his words. He was right on the verge of giving you a compliment, which amused you immensely. “Are you being nice to me?”

Julian groused, but he didn’t sound frustrated. “Don’t make this something it isn’t.”

“And what isn’t it?”

“Anything weird.”

Before you could stop yourself, a question left your mouth that you, quite frankly, had wanted to leave well in the past. “So what was kissing me?” 

Dillinger noticeably tensed up, bristling at the unexpected turn of events and began to hurry you down the stairs. “Why are you bringing up something that happened years ago? We were teenagers. It’s not relevant.”

“Because it startled me, and you never explained yourself. This is the first time we’ve spoken since then!” You held onto the bannister as you tried to keep up with his increased pace, almost stumbling over again. “Slow down!”

He pointedly ignored your request and continued downward. “It’s not like I was hard to get in contact with. You’ve had all these years to ask, and you do it now?”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d want me to get in contact with you!”

“I didn’t, but it was an option. Evidently, it didn’t matter then, so why would it matter now? You kissed me back anyway.” His tone suggested a finality for the conversation, and you didn’t dare probe any deeper. You hobbled down the rest of the stairs with his aid in silence, but before he opened the stairwell door to the venue, you heard him mutter under his breath. “Wait here. I’ll get someone to help you to the stage.”

He left you, supporting yourself against a wall in search of a member of staff who could help you, with his hands shoved deeply into his pockets, as if trying to pretend he had never communicated with you. 

“Dillinger!” You called out to him, and he paused. “Thank you.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Julian gave a curt nod and straightened his back. “You’re welcome. Good luck with your little speech.” 

[coyotecoven]

End Of Line -- Julian Dillinger X Reader

Julian Dillinger X Personal Assistant!Reader

When you accept an internal promotion at Dillinger Systems, you find yourself working closely with the notorious Julian Dillinger. Neither of you is particularly good at hiding your disdain for each other, but after butting heads for months, one evening changes the course of your relationship forever.

Info: Slow burn, Enemies to Lovers, Takes place before Tron Ares, First chapter of an ongoing fic, Crossposted from AO3

Word Count: ~1.5k

a/n: I have literally zero idea on how you people make your Tumblr posts look so pretty but I'll figure it out someday. Anyway, hi!! I'm an AO3 writer and I thought I would post the first chapter of my fic of the same name on here as a little introductory thingy so my profile isn't completely blank.

If you enjoy this chapter, you can find the rest of the fic HERE. Its current word count at time of posting is ~70k, hence only the first chapter being posted on here. I hope you enjoy and I apologise for any weird formatting mistakes, idk what I'm doing!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

As soon as you stepped into the headquarters of Dillinger Systems -- a tall, imposing skyscraper protruding from the city skyline -- you just knew you had most likely made a terrible decision. The weather was grey and overcast, giving the area a hostile atmosphere, almost like it was trying to warn you of the error you had made. Autumn was beginning to wane to usher in winter, meaning the days were starting to gradually shorten. The expansive car park you had just left remained eerily quiet, the type of quiet that should be impossible in a city of this size, with biting wind rattling the building's glass doors being the only audible ambience around.

Julian Dillinger’s reputation preceded him: brilliant, egotistical, technophile, genius. All qualities needed to be a successful CEO of a Fortune 500 tech company. However, the word the press and shareholders seemed to use the most to describe Dillinger was ruthless. 

Dillinger had gone through several personal assistants in as many months, something you wish you had known before accepting the promotion, and now it was your turn. You took a moment to look up into the sky to try to see the top of the building with no luck. The seemingly endless floors of the building really made you reconsider going inside. You should turn around. You should leave. It’s not too late. 

You had worked at Dillinger Systems for as long as you could remember and gradually climbed the ranks to become the manager of your department, being held in high regard on your floor. You had kept your subordinates happy and on task; you were always kind with them while somehow maintaining a perennial firmness. 

Your popularity and effectiveness had clearly gotten you noticed by higher-ups within the company, who had quickly shortlisted you as the potential new assistant for your notorious CEO. Originally, you had wanted to decline the offer -- after all, you really did care for your team -- but the promise of a tremendous pay rise had ended up being far too enticing for you to resist. As soon as you had accepted the job offer, your superiors appeared to be relieved, not that they would ever admit it. Whether that was because they themselves wanted nothing to do with Dillinger, you couldn't tell. Now, you're facing your first day at a new job in a new building, less than a week after handing in your resignation, much to the dismay of your previous team.

Every noise seemed to be amplified in the dark lobby of the headquarters, echoing off the high, soulless ceilings as if to maintain the façade of the hectic buzz of city life. Though the building was clearly populated with employees, there was a contagious loneliness that seeped into the very core of your being. Nobody here appeared to be friends, just familiar strangers; everyone so clearly focused on whatever task they had been assigned that they didn't even stop to say ‘hello’ to -- let alone acknowledge -- anyone in the lobby, which was the polar opposite of what you were used to in your old division of Dillinger Systems. 

You looked around and spotted a large, open reception area with a handful of employees going about their professional duties, be it answering phones or greeting visitors, if there are ever any visitors to greet. As you walked up to the desk, a tired but friendly-looking young man caught your eye. You gave him a small smile before greeting him, hoping he didn't notice the discomfort tattooed across your face.

“Hi there, I'm y/n. I'm a new assistant here?”

The young man looked up at you, smiling widely, though a flicker of pity flashed in his previously warm eyes before settling back into a comforting friendliness.

“Ah! Ms l/n, right? We've been expecting you. I’ll call someone down to bring you up and show you around.” He quickly typed out something on his computer before looking back at you to make some small talk. 

“So, first day, huh? You nervous?” He asked. Usually, you would relax in the presence of such an outgoing person, but you found the juxtaposition of his affable nature with the stifling black… everything of the lobby to put you on edge.

“Wouldn’t everyone be? This is a once-in-a-lifetime promotion. I just really want to do a good job.” You tried to give a friendly chuckle, but it came out sounding more like a choke. 

“Have you been with Dillinger Systems long? Or are you new here?”

Your lips twitched up into a half-smile. “No, I’ve been with the company for a long time now. I worked in the offices downtown as a manager.”

“That’s great!” The receptionist seemed to relax at this information, not that you had noticed how tense he was beforehand. “So, I take it you've dealt with Mr Dillinger before?”

“No, actually. I’ve neither seen nor spoken to him before. Today will be my first time meeting him.” 

An unreadable expression crossed the man’s face as he, now visibly, tensed up again. The fact that you had never even come across the damn CEO you'd be directly working under seemed to completely stump him. Maybe even concern him.

“Oh! That’s … surprising.”

“W-well,” you managed to blurt out, “Mr Dillinger wasn’t involved with the department I worked in. I was in the office downtown.”

You and the young receptionist looked at each other for a while, the silence feeling ever more suffocating as it continued. Thankfully, a woman who couldn’t be much older than you appeared at your side, forcing a smile that ended up looking more like a grimace. 

“You’re y/n, right? I’m Nastya. I’ll be showing you around.” Nastya was an elegant woman who clearly took pride in being seen as a professional. Her brunette hair was pulled back into a tight braid that finished just below the top of her spine, with a well-made -- albeit fake -- pearl necklace to accessorise her pale skin. She wore bright red lipstick in a way that you thought resembled the makeup a flight attendant would wear. 

“Good luck, Ms l/n!” The receptionist said, snapping your attention back to him once more. Even though the words were never said, you could have almost heard the undertones of “you’re gonna need it.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The number of floors in this building became very apparent when you and Nastya stood in the lift. She handed you a key card hanging from a lanyard as she explained your new workplace.

“You’re on the fiftieth floor,” she started. “This is your key card. It’ll identify you, and we’ve already set it up with correct security clearances; however, you may find that Mr Dillinger updates or changes them at a later date. This also allows you to clock in and clock out -- so do not lose it.”

“Fiftieth floor? Got it.” You acknowledged as you hastily pulled on your lanyard. Nastya was already a tall woman, but her block heels made her look like a giant towering over you, with pursed lips and an unbreakable stare. You wondered if her intimidating stature was on purpose.

Nastya brushed off your acknowledgement like you didn’t even say anything. “There’s a small cafeteria on this floor, so you won’t need to travel to get lunch. Lunch is usually one to two o'clock, but that could be different for you as Mr Dillinger will dictate when you can leave.” 

The doors of the lift opened, revealing a populated floor devoid of any human emotion. The walls, like the lobby, were a glossy black with most of the natural light from the massive glass windows being immediately absorbed by them. The light fixtures looked more decorative than anything else, the epitome of form over function, and you dreaded to think how dark this floor would be in the upcoming short winter days. 

Every single office cubicle seemed soulless -- any attempt at decorating or personalising the desk spaces now sat clearly neglected. All the employees typed away at keyboards robotically with minimal chattering; the monotony of the bullpen was only broken up by the occasional sound of a photocopier or a cough. 

Nastya stepped ahead of you and led you through the centre of the office without a single person in the cubicles looking up as you walked past. The two of you may as well have been invisible. You could’ve walked through naked, and you still doubted that anybody would have looked up from their computer screens. You both came to stop in front of a wooden door with a metal label affixed, the name clearly scratched out. Whoever was responsible for making these signs had clearly given up on the constant engraving, most likely since Dillinger had gone through so many assistants in so few months. 

“This will be your home for the length of your tenure,” Nastya stated as she opened the door. She revealed an unspeakably barren office with, unsurprisingly, black walls. It contained only a desk, a computer, a small paper bin in the corner, and a chair. If you felt a little more secure, you probably would have told Nastya that you'd seen more welcoming spaces in prisons. 

“But… I’m Dillinger’s assistant, right? Surely I should be working in the same space as him?” You asked.

Nastya gave you a cautionary look. “In most places, yes, you’d be correct -- but that’s not how Mr Dillinger likes to work. You’ll come in the morning and meet with him, then once more at the end of your shift. It’s unlikely you’ll come across him any more than that. He’ll mostly communicate with you via text.”

You looked at her thoughtfully. “You seem to know a lot about this role. How come you’re not doing it?”

She pointedly ignored your question. “Right. You’ve seen all that you need to. I’ll hand you over to Mr Dillinger now. Follow me.” Her tone left no room for argument, and her desire to get out of there as soon as possible was palpable. Nastya led you to another door at the end of the corridor, more formidable-looking than anything else you’d seen in this building. Perhaps that’s because you knew what was lying in wait behind it. Though most doors in this office you had seen you could assume to be manufactured wood, you didn’t doubt that this door in particular was real walnut. It looked heavy-duty and luxurious with a very neatly engraved golden nameplate: ‘Julian Dillinger - CEO’. This private office had no windows on the outside, so there was no way to see anyone -- if anyone was even in there -- occupying it. If you were to have pictured the type of office a man like Julian Dillinger would have, this was definitely it. Private. Uninviting. Clean. 

A sharp set of knocks brought you back from your thoughts as you noticed Nastya’s knuckles against the door, waiting for a second before she turned back to look at you.

“Use your lanyard. You have the clearance.”

You quickly fumbled for the key card hanging around your neck, holding it up to the scanner to the side of the door frame. The light went green, and an audible click was heard, signalling that the door was now unlocked. Nastya opened it and stepped in, with you quickly following suit. 

The office was dark. Very dark. There was a noticeable absence of natural light in here, the ability to see only being provided by the dim glow of numerous screens and a scattering of lamps emitting a warm orange glow. A handful of decorations were placed sparsely around the large room in an attempt at personality, though it couldn’t have appeared any more impersonal if you had tried. Unlike the bull pen just a few feet away, this room clearly valued more function than form. In the centre of the office stood a sizable desk which appeared to be clear of any objects, bar a glass bottle and a pen pot. A man sat behind it tapped at its surface as if something absolutely captivating was on it.

“Mr Dillinger?” Nastya spoke with a discernible fear behind her, and you caught her voice quivering for the first time. “Your new assistant is here.”

The man finally looked up from his desk, a nearby lamp casting deep shadows over his face. 

“Finally.” He grumbled. 

He stood up and walked over to you, giving you a better look at him. His physical appearance didn't warrant any of the apprehension in Nastya’s voice. He’s lean -- lean but not gangly by any stretch of the imagination -- standing at an average height and dressed in a sharp, black suit. Under the warm artificial light, Dillinger still managed to appear cold -- his sharp features drawing attention to his deep brown eyes and scornful gaze. His hair was equally as dark as his eyes, frozen in shape in a way that erased any potential gentleness in his appearance, which would have come in the form of soft curls had he not gelled them in place. Dillinger glanced at Nastya before looking straight back at you with indifference. 

“Y/n.” You quickly stated, holding out your hand without any second thought.

He studied you for a moment before eventually deciding to clasp your hand, allowing you to notice the bracelets and numerous rings he had adorned himself with.

“Julian. Dillinger.” Julian held your gaze in something you could only assume was an act of dominance assertion. His grip didn’t falter, holding your hand firmly. It almost felt like you had to tear your hand from his to get him to finally let go of you. “I take it Nastya has given you the tour?”

“Yes, she --” You turned to gesture to Nastya, now realising she had disappeared into the ether and abandoned you in the company of Julian Dillinger. “She showed me the floor.”

“Good.” He said, swiftly placing his arms behind his back, straightening himself. “I assume you don't have any questions?” It sounded more like a threat than a query; he really didn’t want to ask any further questions.

“What will I be doing?” You asked. A fair question. After all, nobody had yet explained to you what your responsibilities would be as Dillinger’s personal assistant. Julian’s jaw twitches.

“Well,” he started. “The usual expected things. Sort my emails, arrange my appointments, bring me coffee when I ask… Quite obvious, I fear.” He gave you a condescending smirk.

Julian abruptly spun on his heel to head back to his desk, sitting behind it and tapping on its surface again. You watched with interest. What the hell was he doing? He glanced up and appeared to notice your curiosity, the corner of his lips turning up.

“My computer is in the desk,” he stated simply. His fingers danced across the desk for a few more moments as he addressed you again.

“There. I’ve emailed you everything you need to do today. I will speak to you again at the end of your shift.” Julian’s words cut straight to the point, leaving no room for further conversation.

“Well? Go on. Go!” He snapped.