Supervillain Idol System: My Sidekick Is A Yandere-Chapter 539: A New - (Part 1)

The words landed lightly, but her smile didn’t. It was bright. Free in a way he hadn’t seen on her in a while.

Don blinked once.

Then he stood.

The movement closed the space between them in two steps. He towered over her without meaning to, the top of her head barely reaching his chin as his arms came around her.

"Wow," he said, pulling her in. "Congratulations, mom."

She made a small sound against his chest and hugged him back, arms wrapping tight around his back, fingers bunching into the fabric of his vest. "It felt so good," she murmured. "Actually handing in that letter."

They stayed that way a moment. Her cheek pressed warm against him. Her breath slow. Grounded.

When they drew apart, they didn’t really step away. Just enough to see each other.

Her eyes were bright. A little disbelieving. "Can you believe the director tried to convince me to stay by offering a salary increase? Nearly double."

She gave a small scoff, lips pursing. "The same stingy man who spent three years saying women in management were ’too emotional’ for executive tracks."

She folded her arms with a little pout, chin tipping up. It was the extent of her anger most days—contained, almost polite, even when it wasn’t.

Don didn’t mind it.

He smiled and set his hands at her waist, thumbs resting lightly where the jacket narrowed before her hips. He drew her closer.

"Can’t say I blame him," he said. "I’d also do whatever it takes to get you to stay. Especially looking like this."

Color rushed into her face all at once.

"Donnie," she said, and smacked his chest with the back of her fingers, more reflex than force. "Oh, you..."

She didn’t finish it.

She leaned up instead, meeting him halfway.

The kiss was soft. Unrushed. Her lips warm, fitting to his like muscle memory. There was nothing hungry in it. Just closeness. Breath shared. The faint brush of her glasses against his cheek as she tilted her head.

Don felt it the way he always did.

The warmth. The unspoken trust.

And, under that, the pull toward more.

His hands slid from her waist, one drifting lower along her back, following the line of her jacket until his palm rested over her hip and then her ass. He didn’t squeeze. Just let his hand move there, feeling the shape through the fabric, drawing her closer.

She broke the kiss slowly.

Her forehead rested briefly against his as she breathed out.

"Donnie... not now." Her hand came up to his chest, not pushing, just anchoring. "I need to shower. And your friend was asking for you."

His brow lifted. "Charles?"

She nodded.

Don gave a short nod back and let his hands fall away from her. "Alright. I’ll go talk to him and maybe..." His mouth tilted again. "...join you for that shower. You know. While Summer and Aunt Amanda are still shopping."

The blush came back even stronger.

She opened her mouth, closed it, then shook her head lightly as if to reset herself. "You’re impossible."

But she was smiling.

She turned and walked toward the door. Just before opening it, she glanced back over her shoulder.

"You better hurry then."

And then she stepped out.

Her pace was normal. Mostly.

But there was a little extra weight to her stride. A slight roll through her hips that hadn’t been there before.

The door slid shut behind her.

Don stood where he was, watching it.

For someone as restrained as Samantha, the effort had been obvious.

And it had worked.

Down the hall, Samantha leaned her back briefly to the wall, one hand lifting to her warm cheek.

’Oh goodness,’ she thought. ’I hope I didn’t sound like some cougar.’

She let out a small, nervous breath and pushed herself upright.

’I hope Fabio knows what he’s talking about...’

The door had barely finished sliding shut before the air behind Don fogged pink again.

He reached for a nearby shirt, fingers hooking into the collar and lifting it from the chair as the cloud thickened.

Pop.

Trixie reappeared where she’d vanished before, feet touching down lightly on the bed. Her eyes were already on the door. 𝐟𝕣𝕖𝐞𝐰𝕖𝚋𝐧𝗼𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝗰𝐨𝐦

"H-hey," she said, voice lower than usual. "Are you really gonna let all dat walk away?"

Don didn’t answer.

He pulled the shirt over his head, fabric settling against his shoulders, and turned toward the hall without so much as a glance in her direction.

"Wow. Cold," she muttered, stepping after him. "You don’t even wanna—"

She cut herself off, cheeks puffing slightly as she stopped in the middle of the room. Her arms folded. Her tail gave one irritated flick.

"...Guess I’ll wait."

She stood there a moment, listening to his footsteps fade.

Then her eyes narrowed in thought.

"Hmm," she murmured. "Might be a good idea to stay close..."

Pink smoke curled around her ankles again, rolling upward in a soft spiral. When it cleared, a small black-and-pink cat sat where she’d been, ears twitching once before she hopped down from the bed.

She padded to the door, slipped out into the hall, and took off in the direction Samantha had gone, paws barely making a sound.

Don reached the main entrance just as the outer doors slid apart.

Light spilled across the polished floor, and Charles stood just beyond the threshold.

He wore a white shirt beneath a brown jacket, black pants pressed clean. His hair hung loose around his face, framing his eyes as he tilted his head slightly and smiled.

"Glad to see you’re in good health," Charles said. "You’ve been too quiet lately."

He stepped forward and extended a hand.

Don met it.

Their hands clasped, pulled, released into a routine motion before they bumped shoulders once, a familiar greeting that carried more ease than ceremony.

"Yeah," Don said. "I’ve been enjoying my time off. Getting used to this arrangement the agency has us on."

Charles kept the smile for a moment.

Then it thinned.

"Actually," he said, "that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. The situation at SHQ."

Don didn’t change his face. "I had a feeling you didn’t just come to check on me."

Charles let out a brief breath that passed for a laugh and gestured down the hall. "Let’s go for a walk. The information I wanted to share is pretty sensitive."

He turned and started off.

Don fell into stride beside him, hands slipping into his track pants. "Sounds serious."

"Oh," Charles said. "It is."

They passed through their residential corridor, their steps echoing low between the walls, lights overhead reflecting faintly off framed prints and polished stone.

Charles glanced over. "Did you know Dr. Gadget is being held responsible for the failure at Havenridge?"

Don’s head turned toward him.

His brow drew in. "How? Why?"

The question came out before he’d meant it to. He hadn’t heard this. Not from Winter. Not from Gerald. And given what Gadget had done on-site, the idea of it landed wrong.

Charles chuckled and shook his head, lifting one shoulder. "I don’t know how or why. If anything, I thought you’d have a clue, considering you stayed back as well."

Don looked forward again. "I wasn’t with him directly. But even so, I don’t see how that whole mess was his responsibility."

"So," Charles said, "scapegoat?"

"Maybe."

They moved in step as the corridor widened, the air cooling as the doors to the private garage drew nearer.

"But for that to stick," Charles continued, "it means the director and the council are on board with it."

The doors slid open.

Cool air rolled out, carrying the faint scent of oil and polished metal. The garage stretched wide and clean, white lighting reflecting off immaculate floors. Vehicles sat spaced like exhibits.

They slowed near a familiar cluster.

Charles stopped beside a red Ferrari, its bodywork smooth and spotless, and a black Porsche parked just beyond it. He rested a hand lightly on the Ferrari’s roof as he turned back to Don.

"There are things going on inside SHQ that don’t line up," he said. "Too many internal shifts. Too many people being repositioned. And now this."

Don’s eyes traced the vehicles without seeing them.

He let out a quiet breath through his nose.

"Keep talking."

Charles sighed and moved to lean back against the Porsche, easing himself up onto the hood, the metal giving a faint creak under his weight. He crossed his arms, then paused, brow lifting as if reconsidering something.

From the inside pocket of his jacket, he produced a cigarette.

Of all things.

Don watched without comment as Charles brought it to his mouth, flicked a lighter, and rolled the flame across the tip. The cigarette caught. Charles took a slow pull, smoke drifting upward as he exhaled through his nose.

"That’s all I know," he said simply.

Don didn’t react.

Truth was, aside from the part about Dr. Gadget, none of this had landed hard enough to matter.

Internal blame. Maybe political maneuvering. SHQ fracturing under pressure. And judging by the way Charles delivered it—casual, detached—he hadn’t come here because it shocked him either.

Charles noticed.

He lifted his eyes, studying Don through the thin veil of smoke. "You don’t seem too surprised hearing any of this."

He took another drag as he spoke, embers brightening briefly before dimming again.

Don shrugged and moved to the opposite side of the Porsche, sitting on the edge of the hood. The metal was cool through the fabric of his pants.

"To be honest," Don said, "I expected something more shocking. Or at the very least, something we have control over."

Charles smiled at that.

He reached out and offered the cigarette between two fingers. "SE."

Don glanced at it. "SE?"

"Superhuman edition."

Don nodded once and took it.

He brought it to his lips and drew in.

The sensation was familiar, but not quite the same. A gentle rush spread through his chest and shoulders, lighter than standard nicotine, easing rather than tightening. His thoughts didn’t blur. If anything, they settled, the edge of the day smoothing out.

He exhaled slowly, smoke curling upward.

Charles pushed off the hood and stood, pacing a short step before turning back. "I’ve been exhausting every source I have on the situation over there. And even for my family, it’s hard to stay informed when it comes to UPSDF business."

He paused near the Ferrari, one hand resting on the roof.

"What I do know," he continued, "is that the current situation at SHQ isn’t changing anytime soon."

Don took another drag, then handed the cigarette back. "Sounds like you’re about to get to the main point."

Charles accepted it with a quiet chuckle. "You always were hard to warm up."

He crossed his arms again, cigarette tucked between his fingers, and let out a breath that wasn’t quite a sigh.

"You got me," he said. "Where I’m trying to go with all this is..."

He looked directly at Don now.

"I want us to form our own private superhuman group."