#have him actually look young-ish lmao

[bvidzsoo]

Cold Red Iron

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

⎊ Warning: suggestive speech and content, cursing, violence, weapons, stabbing, blood, hostage situation, mentions of domestic violence (not against MC) ⎊ Word count: 27.6k ⎊ Rating: mature, nsfw ⎊ Genre: Iron Man!AU, humour, Marvel references, superheroes!au, workplace!au, they can't stand each other but end up working together!au ⎊ Summary: Each day you wake up wondering what you did in a previous life to deserve your prick of a boss, who is also a womanizer and owns a company that made him a millionaire. But the job pays well, and there's Mrs. Bae too, so you suck it up. But one unfortunate event at the metro station seems to change your life for the better (?).

A/N: I actually thought I could make this oneshot 15~18k, who's the clown here now? Hii, hello, welcome back my lovelies to a completely random and uncalled for Marvel oneshot that is humorous (I hope so) but also deals with serious topics. For the sake of the story, Mingi is aged up and is closer to his thirties and our MC is around 25-ish, though unspecified, and Mrs. Bae, who is Irene/Bae Joohyun, is aged up a lot lmao, so yes, Yunho is younger than everyone ~oops. I think this is all I wanted to say, sorry for mistakes 'cuz some always somehow slip through, and if I missed tagging any warning lmk. I appreciate your feedback lots, so let me know what you thought of this little story, and I hope you enjoy! Thank you for reading ^^ divider

🕸️(you can find my Spiderman!Yunho oneshot here)

            S. Industries, the name of the tallest building in our city is owned by possibly one of the city’s most affluent men. From engineering and producing weapons that are shipped out to other countries with masses, to fabricating gadgets and small electronic devices that have Mr. Song’s artificial intelligent assistant implemented in them, to joining a collaboration with Mercedes-Benz to produce a prototype never heard of before, S. Industries seemed to do a little bit of everything. Engineers of the best calibre fought to get a spot in the team and those fired often found themselves lost and devastated by their predicament. Smart and important people worked here, people who had a vision and had set their minds on changing the world. Mr. Song, the embarrassingly rich owner of the enterprise, seemed to have flamboyant and insane ideas often, yet, they somehow always managed to work out in his favour. There was rarely a day where Mr. Song wasn’t on the news or TV, smirking and winking at the cameras as he flirted with the reporters into oblivion—these were the good scenarios because there were days when instead of appearing for his good deeds and world-changing innovations, he appeared in scandalous hypostasizes that had to be fixed by none other than me.

He was exactly the man you’d imagine a young and super-rich CEO would be like. He drank and partied as long as the night lasted, and when dusk came, he’d bring ladies into his bed to satisfy his insatiable needs. No woman lasted long by his side, perhaps because his personality was truly dislikeable or perhaps because he couldn’t keep it in his pants for too long. There had been multiple occasions when security had to escort his screaming exes out while Mr. Song hid away in his office with his tail between his legs and the excuse that he was too busy working, meanwhile, he was busy whining and nursing his hangover. But he also liked to act like he was the bigger and better person in the room, often with his eyebrows furrowed and with disgust on his features as he looked at you above his narrow glasses and judged whatever came out of your mouth. I couldn’t fully understand the women that surrounded me and their desperation to be noticed by the CEO. Despite his very obvious good looks, I always thought his bad personality ruined even the thought of finding him attractive in the true sense of the word—meaning inside out. Sure, for a one-night-stand, the man was probably a perfect partner, but even then, I wouldn’t have wanted to be another body count added to his long and never-ending list so that he can gloat about it to his buddies while they have a beer—or wine, whatever thing these fancy people drink on a night out if they even do those. 

And Mr. Song was shameless, he very obviously did not care about the working environment and neither about the fact that there was a power imbalance each time he decided to sleep with one of his employees. I yet had to see the day when it didn’t end up with his temporary partner fired as Mr. Song claimed that he was uncomfortable by their overbearing presence, irritated by the constant attention he got from said employee—or victim, as I liked to call them. The longest an employee he hooked up with managed to continue staying at the firm was two weeks and that one ended on a pretty bad note—she now has a restricting order on her hands, Mr Song doesn’t play around despite his often easy-going façade. I wasn’t one to be quick to judge, but I was thoroughly bothered and disgusted by the lack of care Mr. Song seemingly had towards his female employees, the nonchalance with which he dismissed others never ceased to make my blood boil.

And if it wasn’t enough that he was a womanizer, he was also a jerk to his employees when he so happened to ‘not be in the mood’, which translated to him getting up on the wrong side of the bed and so he had the right to be pissy and offensive to everyone around himself, including his so very sweet secretary that I swore to protect with my whole being. Mrs. Bae was an elderly lady who was in excellent shape and an absolute professional in everything she did, she was so eager to teach me everything I needed to know about administrative work as when I had joined S. Industries, I was still fresh out of college with barely any experience. Mrs. Bae was also very loyal to Mr. Song, for some reason, and she was diligent in her work and spent way too much time at the office, fixing Mr. Song’s messes that shouldn’t have been committed in the first place. But if there was anyone in this goddamn office that had even a little bit of control over Mr. Song, then it sure as hell was Mrs. Bae as she’d often storm inside his office without knocking—disregarding the fact that her boss might be in the midst of unloading his stress, if you know what I mean—and she’d absolutely put him in his place, scrutinizing him as a disappointed mother would with her disobeying child.

But still, that was just Mrs Bae, others weren’t so lucky. If Mr. Song decided he didn’t like you, you were dead meat, nobody would want to associate themselves with you, and oftentimes those employees would resign on their own, aware that the entirety of S. Industries had just rejected them. And this wasn’t all, Mr. Song also spoke with little respect and consideration, eyes often narrowed and eyebrows furrowed as he scowled and interrupted your speech, embarrassing you in front of your colleagues and unjustly dismissing your hard work. He would also laugh if you made a mistake or if your idea was catalogued as not good enough, sending most of his employees into an existential crisis whenever he did this. It was sad, truly, having to watch my colleagues crumble day by day. I, thankfully, had rarely come in direct contact with Mr. Song as I was a mere secretary assistant, but because Mrs. Bae was basically his right hand, I shared the same floor with her and our boss. That, however, meant that despite usually being overlooked by Mr. Song, I got to watch all of his shenanigans unfold, unable to do or say anything.

Working here has definitely taught me patience and Mrs. Bae advised me to just try and ignore Mr. Song unless I had to work with him directly, apparently, there was nothing he hated more than being ignored. He acted like a damn child that was desperate for attention and not like a man with a very serious burden on his hands, with one of the strongest industries in his hands, able to control the outcome of wars even if he so wished. I had yet to see the day Mr. Song acted like a decent human being, compassionate and understanding, kind and less of a prick.

So, knowing all that, you must understand my honest reaction to finding out that Mrs. Bae had fallen so ill that she had to be hospitalized, scaring half of the company to death when she sent us an e-mail. Of course, in true fashion to her, it was worded professionally and she asked us not to worry but to work even harder in her absence, and then she assigned all her subordinates what their respective assignments would be in her absence. When I had reached my name on the list and read that I was to replace her since I knew everything about management and Mr. Song’s schedule, I was pretty much devastated. There was no definite time of when Mrs. Bae would return and that meant that I could be working as her replacement for a day, maybe a week, or even three years. I knew I would barely last one day by Mr. Song’s side, let alone three years. And, because this devastating news called for a cold jug of beer to drown my sorrows in, my poor best friend had been the one to suffer through a drunken night of me going off about my boss, calling him names and describing atrocious ways of how I would bring his demise forth if it were only legal.

But Sooyoung was a good friend, she’s been with me since fifth grade, and she sat through the night and giggled whenever I hiccupped or started speaking too loudly, to the point I had people turning our way as I cursed Mr. Song’s name. She was an angel and a sweetheart as she carried my heavy body home that night, giggling and snapping pictures when I told her I felt like throwing up and that I needed a breather. She called her boyfriend when she realized I wasn’t able to walk anymore, my high heels long abandoned and in my hands as the freezing ground was none of my concerns at that moment as my eyes bore into a billboard that had Mr. Song’s sharp face and sexy smirk displayed.

“You’re the devil!” I was sure my voice was loud enough to wake the whole neighbourhood as I stumbled to my feet, pointing a finger at the billboard as Sooyoung spoke on the phone, “I’m going to get you, Song Mingi!”

I huffed and glared at the man’s small and narrowed eyes, shivering when a cold breeze blew past us, “Don’t smirk at me, fucker.”

There was a loud giggle behind me and then the slam of a door and I heard my best friend pocket her phone as two sets of footsteps neared me, “You see that monstrosity? He picks his nose when he thinks nobody is watching, the fucker forgets to turn on the blurring effect to his windows, and I get to see him lazing around his office the whole day, meanwhile, I have to delete articles and call up journalists and beg them not to publish their next issue about how Song Mingi fucked four women and gave them chlamydia or whatever.”

I was sure my words came out jumbled and less clear than they sounded in my head, and I flinched when high-pitched laughter made my ears ring, way higher than Sooyoung’s had ever been. With my head spinning and bile rising in my throat, I swung around and narrowed my eyes at my best friend’s boyfriend. He laughed a lot, loudly mostly, and if I found it cute sober, I absolutely loathed it while drunk, “Shut up, fucker!”

“Or you’ll beat me up like you’ll beat up our boss?” He teased with a mischievous glint in his eyes and I snorted, pulling my shoulders back as I banged on my chest.

“I sure will!” I called loudly and the guy just started giggling again, meanwhile, Sooyoung just shook her head with an amused expression on her face.

“Let’s get her inside the car, Wooyoung, I don’t want her to catch a cold.”

“Why is she even so drunk?”

“Mrs. Bae is really sick and Y/N is to replace her.”

“Oh, so she’ll be finally working with Mr. Song directly?”

“Exactly.”

I groaned and bared my teeth at nothing in particular as Wooyoung and Sooyoung came up on both sides of me to hold me up and walk me towards Wooyoung’s running car, that fucker, he was an engineer at S. Industries and he was rich enough to afford himself a really nice car. A Mercedes-Benz, to be exact, thanks to the collaboration the two companies had going on. For once, I hoped Mr. Song’s project went terribly and I’d have to answer the calls with a smile on my face and then feign mock disappointment when I’d relay the message to Mr. Song. Surely the failure of one project wouldn’t bring the downfall of S. Industries.

“Well, Y/N, at least there’ll be a raise in the paycheck this month.” A particularly hard slap to my back had the bile in my throat rising until it wasn’t inside my mouth anymore at all, but on the sidewalk instead, as Wooyoung shrieked and Sooyoung just sighed, holding my hair back for me as I doubled over and violently emptied the contents of my stomach.

That whole ordeal was three days ago, on a Friday evening, when Mrs. Bae delivered the devastating news. Now, it was Monday and my muscles were tense and my teeth were gritting as I exited the metro and took the escalator, feet already aching from the blisters my other heels left on them. I seriously wanted to die, but Wooyoung was right for once in his life, I would at least get a raise for filling in for Mrs. Bae, but at what cost? The only joy I could find in the horrible day I had ahead of me was my iced caramel macchiato in my hands and the fact that the metro was right next to the building I used to love working at up until three days ago. Higher paycheck or not, I found myself wondering whether it was worth it if I had to work directly with Mr. Song.

I plastered on a smile despite my sour mood as I entered the intimidatingly tall building and greeted the receptionists, who apparently knew of my predicament as they sported matching looks of pity. If there were other women who didn’t fall for Mr. Song’s charming persona, excluding Mrs. Bae who was too old to entertain such a young boy and was busy scolding him whenever she could, then in the receptionists I knew I could trust. One of them had a bad run-in with Mr. Song and ever since the two stayed far away from him, sharing my displeasure whenever I came down to have lunch with them. They were sisters and foreigners, yet their knowledge of the language oftentimes surpassed mine, never failing to take me off guard as I watched them with a grin on my lips. They were both in college and apparently, a really pricey one if they resorted to working at S. Industries.

I scanned my badge at the entrance gate and nodded at the security guard, Chanyeol, who looked more like a club bouncer than a security guard at a high-tech company, closely surveyed and littered with cameras in every nook and cranny. The elevator ride up to the top floor was rather lacklustre and filled with silence beside the generic music coming through the speakers, and I basked in the ignorance the engineers exerted towards me, nothing out of the ordinary. But when they got off on their floor, I found myself fidgeting as I still had ten more floors up, turning around to check myself out in the huge mirror. It wasn’t even my first day here, yet I felt jittery and questioned my choice of clothing despite it being what I usually wore. A black pencil skirt that stuck to my frame uncomfortably paired with a white off-shoulder blouse that was tucked inside, a dainty belt bringing the look together nicely. My black high-heels weren’t as uncomfortable as the ones I had worn on Friday—they were still new—and I couldn’t wait to sit down and step out of them. I have pulled my hair in a bun and strategically pulled out front pieces that I curled, framing my face if I didn’t want to look like an egg due to the oval shape of my face. My makeup was soft and natural looking except for the red lipstick, and I found myself playing with the small cross pendant around my neck, waiting for the elevator doors to open as I reached the top floor.

The hall, my little office, Mr. Song’s huge office, and the small kitchen were all dark, signalling that I was the first one to arrive at work. Of course, that was no surprise as there were days when Mr. Song would come in just a few hours before it was time to go home for his employees, and then he’d usually find something faulty with everything, thus forcing everyone to stay after hours. I hoped today wasn’t a day like that because I was sure I’d end up fired by the evening, something I couldn’t afford as I had just moved to my new apartment and the rent was rather high, but the area was good and it was a lot closer to my job, so I couldn’t complain. I switched on the lights as I walked towards Mrs. Bae’s desk, now mine until she returned, and I hung my coat on the hanger, placing my purse on the floor just next to it. I powered on the desk computer and headed for the kitchen to prepare coffee for Mr. Song. I had decided to take this burden off Mrs. Bae’s shoulders back when I had joined the company, so I knew his preference by heart, unfortunately.

I watched the coffee machine with unfocused eyes as I ran through in my mind the schedule I had closely studied yesterday. Mr. Song had a meeting before lunch with the engineers about the prototype they were developing, which could take quite a few hours if he was in a pissy mood, and after lunch he had another meeting with the company they were collaborating with, and since that was out of our hands I couldn’t estimate the length of the meeting. Before his first meeting, however, I had to print the monthly expenses and bring them to him, and sometime along the day—preferably before lunch, was what Mrs. Bae’s note had said—I had to fix a date and time with a local magazine for an editorial shoot they had been discussing with my boss for months now. The thought made me roll my eyes and I switched the coffee machine off, grabbing the oat milk out of the fridge and brown sugar from the cupboard. The coffee was just a little above half of the cup and I filled it up with the milk, putting in five teaspoonfuls of sugar. I wondered whether Mr. Song would realize I had mixed up his milk on purpose while making his coffee—since he’s lactose intolerant—if I ever got the courage to sabotage my boss even if it was silly. But today wasn’t that day and I grabbed a tray and placed five cookies on a small plate before I placed both his coffee and the cookies on the tray. I would take them to his office and then print whatever he needed. If maybe I sneaked inside his office before he came in, then maybe I didn’t have to face him often as Mrs. Bae would communicate with him through the phone despite them being just a few steps away from each other, I intended on doing that too.

But my steps halted as I returned to the lobby, eyebrows furrowing as the glass to Mr. Song’s office was blurred and light poured outside from underneath the closed door. Oh, had he come in early? My eyebrows furrowed as I wondered whether I was hallucinating, had I been so lost in thought I didn’t hear the elevator, his footsteps, and the closing of the door? I could space out annoyingly well, so maybe that really was the case. I sighed and walked towards my desk, needing a second to gather my courage and steel my nerves as my eyes fell on the unlocked computer. So, Mr. Song not only came in earlier but he also unlocked Mrs. Bae’s computer before heading inside his office. That was rather confusing, and just when I had started wondering whether someone had broken in on our floor, I heard his unmistakable raspy and deep voice coming through the glass that separated us. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but it was Song Mingi, no doubt. Glancing at the door and then down at the computer, I decided that I didn’t want to enter his office twice today if it really wasn’t necessary so, I quickly printed the monthly expenses and bound them together after placing them in order. The numbers were so high that I struggled to read them correctly, but it wasn’t surprising, the company was huge and what they expertise in was even bigger.

I grabbed the papers and the tray into my hands, mindful of my steps as I headed for Mr. Song’s office door, taking a deep breath as I paused in front of it. He was still talking, probably on the phone, and I decided it was best I slipped in and out while he was distracted, so I knocked and went inside without waiting for his answer.

“Yes, I know.” His voice was harsh and tinged with annoyance as I veered my way around his office like an expert, having been inside too often. Who do you think cleaned up his mess and dusted off his shelves? Exactly, me because I couldn’t handle watching Mrs. Bae ruin her already aching back and knees, “Honestly? I don’t fucking care. I told you I couldn’t design it and produce it in a month, so is it really my fault that your superiors are blaming you now?”

I was curious what this was about, but I knew my place and not to snoop around, so I just headed for his desk hopeful that Mr. Song wouldn’t notice me as his chair was swivelled around to face the huge windows overlooking the bustling morning city, mist having settled in the distance where it was closer to the mountains. The view was beautiful from here and I often found myself gazing out the windows when I had to be inside Mr. Song’s office, wondering if I’d ever earn enough to live in a penthouse, it was wishful thinking but at least it made me more determined to work harder.

“Then deal with it.” Mr. Song snapped as I placed the tray on the desk, in its usual spot, and my eyes fell on the back of his head as he scoffed loudly, his fingers drumming against the armrest of the leather chair he sat in. He was so tall that even his massive chair couldn’t hide his form and my eyes stuck to his broad shoulders outlined by the shoulder pads of his black jacket before I snapped out of it and moved as quietly as possible to place the documents I had printed in the middle of the desk, “I’m not taking the blame for your incompetence, idiot, call me when you have a real reason to speak with me.”

Just as I had straightened up and took a step back, Mr. Song hung up and groaned as he threw his head back, eyes screwed shut as he groaned, “What a fucking idiot, he can’t even design his own gadget and then I’m at fault for prioritising real projects.”

Well, I was sure I wasn’t meant to hear his whining and inner monologue said out loud, so I took a tentative step backwards, praying he’d remain with his eyes closed and with his back turned so that I could slip out of his office before he’d even realize I was in there. For a man who regarded himself so highly, he lacked the skill of being aware of his surroundings at all times, something I didn’t mind for once. But my hopes were soon crushed as I stepped on something that made noise, eyes widening as I froze, watching as Mr. Song’s eyebrows furrowed for a second, “Ah, Joohyun, morning. Can you please call up—”

Of course, he’d call Mrs. Bae by her name without any regard to her age and accomplishments, I wasn’t even surprised he failed to respect the only person who remained stuck to his side in this company, vouching for him when nobody else did as few people liked the CEO. But his eyes opened and his words stuck in his throat as we made contact, albeit a little silly as his head had fallen off the headrest and he was looking at me cross-eyed. The speed with which he swivelled the chair around and fixed his posture should have been comical, but I knew what was coming and so I didn’t enjoy it. The slight worry and annoyance were gone from his face in the blink of an eye, replaced with a chilling arrogance and a self-assured smirk as his eyes very shamelessly ran all over my body, checking me out. I clenched my jaw and fixed my posture as well, plastering on the corporate smile that I wished conveyed the message of ‘fuck yourself, Song Mingi’, but it apparently didn’t as he intertwined his fingers and placed his elbows on the table to lean forward, tongue poking out to lick his lips.

“My, my, if only Joohyun looked anything like you, I’d come in early every morning.” His smirk only spread wider, eyes shining with a newfound resolve as he waited eagerly for a reaction, for anything. But it didn’t come as I remained impassive, eyes boring into his with nonchalance and coldness as I burned away on the inside, screaming and cursing at him in my mind. How dare he disrespect the lovely Mrs. Bae and disregard all her sacrifices made for his ungrateful ass just because I was young and relatively alright looking?!

“Mrs. Bae is sick and until she returns I will be replacing her, but I suppose you’ve been informed of the changes, sir.” I tried to keep my voice levelled so that I wouldn’t snap at him, but it was a little hard as he bit his bottom lip when I addressed him as ‘sir’. I didn’t want to think about it for even a second and I suppressed a sigh as he leaned back in his chair, legs spreading wide as he let his eyes run over my body again. Fucker, I hope he swallows his coffee wrong, maybe I should prepare his coffee with regular milk from now on, “The monthly expenses and payments that still have to be made are on the desk, sir, I have printed them as Mrs. Bae does.”

He glanced at the bound paperwork for a second before his lips pursed, eyes falling back on me. There was a slight change to his features, the quick glimmer of curiosity as he regarded me with inquiring eyes, but it was gone again as he rubbed his plump bottom lip with his forefinger, his hands littered with rings that were huge and somehow looked classy on him instead of making him look like a wannabe punk. For a CEO, he certainly wasn’t afraid to dress however he wanted while still being mindful that he was at his workplace. Sometimes he wore suits that highlighted his body and muscles in the right way, turning heads and having me throw him a second glance as he waltzed inside his office, and sometimes he wore outfits that you only saw on the runway, like today. His attire was all-black, non-conferring to society’s gender norms and unique in its way. He wore a blouse that seemed to fall a little lower on one shoulder, tucked inside pants that reached the floor with a skirt over them that reached just below his knees, his jacket cropped and with shoulder padding. The silver chains around his neck only added to the outfit and I couldn’t deny that he was quite the sight to look at with his black hair pushed back, and his undercut fresh. It made him look sharper, it defined his high cheekbones, and with his hair pushed back like that his eyes only became sharper and more intimidating.

“Trying to leave an impression on me already, huh?” His chuckle was mocking and laced with an undertone that almost had me marching up to him and punching the shit out of him, “It’ll take a few months before I can say whether you’re qualified for this job, sugar, newbies are great but they always fuck up, no offence.”

“None taken,” I grinned, trying to contain my rage and pride to lengthen my stay at the company, “I’ve been working here for four years, Mr. Song.”

He blinked once, then gulped, and then his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he took me in again, but finally not with lustful eyes but plain confusion as he probably tried to recall a time he’d seen me before. Instead of being offended that my own boss, the man I shared a floor with and crossed paths with in the hallway more than once, didn’t recognize me, I felt accomplished that I managed to dodge him for a complete four years. We’ve ridden the elevator together not once, but I huddled in the corner and always waited for him to get off first in order to stay out of his sight, I just couldn’t stand the man and it was obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes.

“Ah, perhaps if I hear your name…” He trailed off and then eyed his coffee, eyebrows twitching as his eyes lingered on them, hand reaching for a cookie reluctantly.

“Five teaspoonfuls of sugar and a quarter of oat milk, just the way you like it.” It actually felt freaking awesome seeing the confused and slightly taken aback expression on Mr. Song’s face, who knew I’d enjoy being in his presence for once, “And I’m Miss Jang.”

“Jang…?” He asked quickly but I just remained smiling, not about to tell him my name. He could look it up very easily with a search in the database, either way, if he was curious enough.

“I’m the secretary assistant, so don’t worry, I know everything I need to know.” I ignored his question and took a step towards the door, signalling that I was out of his office in the next five seconds, “Let’s both pray Mrs. Bae returns fast, I quite enjoy shadowing her.” Instead of having to face you, but I didn’t add that to my short speech.

Mr. Song’s eyes narrowed as he took in my retreating form and for a split second, I noticed annoyance on his features, making me feel victorious in a way I never imagined I could, “Yeah, yeah, whatever. She’s too stubborn to remain sick for long, she’ll be back soon, but until then I expect nothing but excellence from you, I would hate to fire you if you’ve been working for me for four years. Anyways, when’s my first meeting?”

“At eleven, sir.” I checked the time, two more hours until then.

“Good, call Miss Kim and tell her I have something to discuss with her.” He paused to grab his cup of coffee and I refrained from rolling my eyes at his theatrics, “Tell her to come as fast as possible and that we’ll talk in my office.”

Or fuck, is what he meant but didn’t say. I hummed in order to swallow the scoff that threatened to leave my lips and bowed my head just slightly, in the way I knew it was enough to be respectful but still not that much. But Mr. Song wasn’t looking at me anymore so he wouldn’t see, he was too busy flipping through the paperwork as he sipped his coffee. I gripped the handle of the door but paused in the doorway, eyes falling on the unwrapped and empty package of a condom I had stepped on just minutes ago, “I’m not cleaning that up too, pick it you yourself, Mr. Song.”

And when his head snapped up with a scowl, eyes following the direction I was pointing at, he scoffed loudly and gave me a sharp glare. I smiled in a way that I knew couldn’t outwardly be catalogued as a ‘fuck you’ smile, but it also made sure to convey that I wasn’t dumb nor his rag that he could throw around and find amusement in. Then, without waiting to be dismissed, I slipped through the door and walked towards my desk, a smirk making its way on my lips as I graciously sat in Mrs. Bae’s chair, swivelling closer to the desk as I went to raise my hand and flip my boss off, but suddenly, the blur from the windows was gone and I went rigid, hand already midway raised. Mingi’s arm was outstretched as he held the controller, eyes glaring and fixed on me as I scoffed and returned his fierce glare, picking up the central telephone to dial Miss Kim and ask her to come to Mr. Song’s office.

I guess today would be exhausting in all the different ways I didn’t think possible before.

            And I was right, it was exhausting in a way that had both my blood boiling and making me feel resigned as I was finally able to shut the computer off, the sun about to set any minute now. I had to stay for longer than expected as Mrs. Bae had a lot of workload, and without having an assistant to help out, I had to do it all on my own. I couldn’t complain about that as long as Mrs. Bae was healthy and up on her feet in the following ways, I would fill in for her and work even nights because I respected her and loved her a lot. She was a motherly figure and a good guide for both office-related and life-related things. I couldn’t wait to see her and hear her voice, already missing her dad jokes and shrill laughter. But perhaps what I missed the most was that she was the only one who could put Mr. Song in his place, something he desperately needed.

The blurry effect stayed off the windows the whole day and I felt Mr. Song’s sharp eyes on me more often than not, it was slowly driving me up the wall. I knew what he was playing at, he didn’t like my attitude towards him and he was trying to find reasons to get rid of me. But he couldn’t because I was trained by Mrs. Bae and I was damn good at my job, there was a reason why I survived four years at the company without working as an engineer or down at the lobby—Mr. Song rarely meddled with the lobby girls, and perhaps that was the only smart thing he was capable of doing. But now I had him on my back the whole day, making me uncomfortable as I sat in Mrs. Bae’s chair rigidly and with an aching back by how strained it was, fingers spasming from how much I had been typing away on the keyboard, and a crazy itch to finally go home. At least he wasn’t a complete ass and told me to get lunch while he was in the meeting, even handing me his card which I, obviously, declined. He had a peculiar look in his eyes that I couldn’t decipher, and then Wooyoung was up on our floor to fetch Mr. Song with a shit-eating grin on his lips.

“Ah, my favourite person in the whole wide world!” He had called loudly while Mr. Song was inside his office, door open, gathering paperwork, files, and the jacket he had discarded hours ago. My eyes narrowed at Wooyoung as I paused writing the email for the editorial photoshoot and leaned forward, raising my chin.

“Aren’t you supposed to be annoying your engineer friends?” I raised an eyebrow as Wooyoung’s grin only grew in size, “You seem to be lost, this isn’t your floor, Dr Jung.”

Wooyoung gave me a deadpanned look at the title I used as he leaned forward, resting his arms against the top part of the desk, “Don’t call me doctor at our workplace, dummy.”

“Don’t call me a dummy at our workplace.” I mocked Wooyoung and he glared at me before he stole a gummy bear out of the bowl placed there for our clients.

“Well, I see you’re doing just fine,” Wooyoung spoke while chewing, eyes running over the place, “The secretary role suits you; I should snap a picture for Sooyoung to see.”

“Don’t you dare.” I snapped and stood up to snatch the bowl of gummies when Wooyoung went to grab another one, “It’s for the clients, Wooyoung, and stop bothering Sooyoung while she’s at work. Besides, I already sent her a picture.”

“Of course you did.” He rolled his eyes and pouted as he swiftly leaned over the desk and managed to snatch a gummy still, making me gasp as my eyes widened, giving him a nasty look, “How’s working with your worst nightmare? Have you flipped him off already? Or have you cursed his name out in the bathroom? I bet you switched up his milk for a regular one like, you said you’d do—”

“Wooyoung, it’s nice seeing you on time for once.” Mr. Song’s sharp voice interrupted us, and I gave Wooyoung a warning look before I smoothed my skirt out and placed the bowl of gummies back in its place, “Although the blazer and your pants don’t match—”

“They do!” Wooyoung cut our boss off with a whine as Mr. Song came closer, “My fashion sense is better than yours.”

“You wish,” I muttered under my breath as I settled in the chair, thinking that it was quiet enough, but both men looked at me at the same time, making my eyes widen for a fraction of a second. Mr. Song’s impassive façade broke as he gave me a smirk, plump lips pursing as he let his eyes drop to my collarbones and explore my exposed shoulders due to my blouse. I fought back an eye roll and just sighed as I looked back at Wooyoung, “Tell Sooyoung when you see her that I might get off late, we’ll postpone our dinner for another day.”

“Yes!” Wooyoung fist bumped the air in glee and I fixed my glare on the side of his head as he eagerly took the files our boss was holding, “After Friday, I wouldn’t have survived another drunken dinner so soon. Imagine my poor ears having to listen to you whine about our—”

“Goodbye, Wooyoung.” I interrupted him with urgency, aware of the panic that coated my features as he snickered like the evil bastard he was, eyeing Song Mingi from the corner of his eyes as the man looked between us with curiosity written over his features. But then it was gone just as Wooyoung opened his mouth, Mr. Song was giving me a sharp look.

“Call Miss Kim and tell her there’s been a change to our plans, I’m busy tonight.” I wanted to tell him that I wasn’t his messenger, but as his secretary, I pretty much was. I nodded and pulled my chair closer to the desk, getting ready to finish the email when Mr. Song continued, “And get back to work.”

I bit my tongue to refrain from wishing him a lovely descent into hell, and I knew I wasn’t able to hide my irritated face well enough because Wooyoung snickered as Mr. Song took off towards the elevator, my best friend’s boyfriend lingering just behind him. He gave me a wink before he was right behind our boss, and I sighed as I got back to typing, catching the beginning of their conversation about some issues they’d run into while designing the new prototype. But other than that quick interaction, Mr. Song ignored me for the rest of the day minus the fact that he was spying on me from his office whenever he could, eyes boring into the side of my head and making me type just a little harsher than necessary.

But Mr. Song said something about being busy and not wanting to be bothered anymore half an hour ago, and after he closed and locked his door, the glass became all blurry and I understood the message: I was dismissed, I could finally head home—and head home I did, more eager than ever before. The metro was busy as most people were, similar to me, headed home and crowding the place. I stayed a decent distance away from the tracks and typed away on my phone as there was a commotion not too far from me. I didn’t react to it, used to the loudness and sometimes crazy people that came down to ride the metro. However, my dismissal quickly turned into alarm when there was a loud shout and a pained cry followed right after it and people ran left and right, knocking into me and almost sending me to the dirty ground. I stumbled and tightened my grip on my phone, not understanding the sudden hysteria until it was too late.

The crowd had cleared up enough so that the scene was visible to me, and I gasped as a woman lay on the ground, clutching her side as blood pooled underneath her. Despite living in a big city where crime was inevitable, I had never come across a scene like this and I felt frozen, terrified, and all of a sudden too dumb to do anything. People were screaming around us, mostly male voices demanding something, but my eyes remained fixated on the crying woman as her hands trembled and sobs echoed despite the loud commotion. Someone next to me was calling the ambulance and cops, at least five men surrounded the wounded woman and screamed at someone that I still couldn’t see, and just when somebody shoved me and told me to get away, I snapped out of it, but it was too late. A calloused hand was wrapped around my throat as cold metal pressed against my throat, already wet and dripping red with blood from the aggressor’s previous attack.

“Don’t make me do it!” The man screamed at the top of his lungs as I was rendered frozen, heart beating out of my chest and breath stilled in my throat, “Don’t make me kill her too!”

I went even more rigid, if possible, body shaking from fear as I remained silent, eyes darting around the place and silently crying out for help with my eyes, “Listen, we can settle this, no need to harm her too.”

“You’ll immobilise me if I let her go,” The man’s voice that held me captive thundered over my head and I tried to gulp but was afraid the movement would make the blade cut into my skin, “I’m not going to jail. She had it coming, she was a cheating bitch!”

“Alright, we get it, man!” A man that was crouched next to the wailing woman snapped, eyes burning with passion as he turned to face us, “You got what you wanted, the woman you’re holding right now is innocent, let her go.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” At the shout and jerk of my captor’s body, I whimpered and grabbed onto his sleeve as I felt the cold blade press much harder into my skin, making my lips tremble as I fought back tears. I tried to pull the man’s arm away, desperately so, but he was relatively stronger, “Stop moving around, bitch, if you don’t want to die!”

I was breathing hard by now, trying to keep it together, but I was failing as my vision became blurred by tears that I tried to hold in. I could hear sirens in the distance and the people around the woman fussed about as they tried to stop her bleeding, but it didn’t seem to help. I wished someone would snatch me away from the psycho holding me and save me, but I knew the bleeding woman needed the help more than I did—unless I was injured too, who knew, maybe I’d never get to see tomorrow. The thought was frightening and I gulped down another whimper as the man's fingers dug into my shoulder as he kept me pressed against himself, he was breathing even harder than I was, his chest moving up and down quickly against my back.

“Listen, the woman you’re holding right now did nothing to you.” Another person tried to reason, a soft-spoken boy who was crouched right in front of the injured woman, hands bloody and eyes hardened, “She’s a complete stranger to you, she doesn’t even know who you are. If you want another person’s blood on your hands and a lifetime sentence, then by all means, go ahead and kill her too.”

I went to protest with a whine, but I felt the man’s grip loosen after a few seconds as he cursed under his breath. I was shaking, still clutching my purse in both of my hands as I had dropped the one holding onto the man’s arm out of fear of agitating him even more. Gasps could be heard above us, where the entrance of the metro was, and suddenly a peculiar sound filled the space. It sounded mechanical but not quite, hard and scraping like metal, and it was loud. The sirens were even louder now and I knew help was close by, I could only hope it came before I suffered any serious injuries. My heart was thumping so fast I was sure the artery in my neck was pulsating too, just the more inviting to be slashed or stabbed. The thought made me shudder and just as I was about to open my mouth and plead for my life too, something red and robot-like descended only a few feet away from us. Everyone gasped and murmured, my own eyes widened as I stared at the robot-like red machine, all armour and menacing looking from up close.

I had only seen Iron Man on TV, and suddenly, everything I had heard about the anonymous superhero seemed to be true. The person behind the iron armour was tall with wide shoulders and narrow hips as the costume moulded onto his body perfectly, and the person’s face was concealed by a mask that never came off, teasing the public of who could bear it. Despite knowing that the person behind the mask had no mal-intention and was here to rather save me, I couldn’t help but watch it with doubtful eyes, intimidated by the loomingly tall body and firm structure of the costume. There was a collective moment of pure silence, everyone holding their breaths as they waited for Iron Man to do something. The man holding me cursed loudly this time and I gasped as my eyes widened, his knife digging into my skin so that it scrapped my skin. I bit my bottom lip and tried to refrain from crying despite every particle of my body crying out in desperation to be freed and finally saved.

“Well, what do we have here, huh?” The superhero’s voice sounded somewhat robotic, but it wasn’t hard to make out that the person’s voice was grave, deep, and rather sharp as he spoke, “Terrorizing innocent women at the metro, is that a new hobby of yours? Did your mother not love you enough or what?”

“Shut up!” The man screamed and made me flinch as it made my ears ring, and suddenly I doubted that Iron Man was here to save the day. Why in hell would he be antagonizing an armed man holding a hostage?! I hoped the superhero could see my glare as I blinked my tears away, suddenly my terror blending together with anger due to nobody doing anything to help me, “What the fuck do you know about love, you iron fucker?!”

The armoured man chuckled and it was raspy almost, “I don’t fuck iron, but my costume is made of iron, hence the name—”

“Cut the attitude!” The man hissed and I gulped, fidgeting around and reaching inside my purse to see whether I had anything on me to use as a weapon to free myself since nobody was doing anything real to help me, “I’ll kill this bitch!”

“Don’t call her a bitch, you lowlife.” Iron Man snapped with irritation and I paused, eyes boring into the mask where its eyes were. At least Iron Man seemed to be a decent man when he wasn’t mocking and teasing the criminal, “Now, I’ll tell you how this goes—”

“Just shut the fuck up—”

“If you interrupt me one more time, I’ll blast off your face, dude.” The patience of Iron Man seemed to have snapped all at once as he raised his arm, something blue glowing in the middle of the iron palm. It didn’t look friendly nor like it wouldn’t hurt as it twisted and turned, accumulating more and more energy, “Like I was saying, this can go two ways. You release her and I take you to the officers without unnecessary injuries or you keep being foolish and I’m forced to take you down to free her, which are you choosing?”

“Fuck yourself!” The man turned his head and spat on the ground, making my face scrunch up in disgust as my body continued to tremble, wondering how Iron Man could hurt my captor without hurting me in the process as well. Certainly, whatever thing he meant to blast at the man wasn’t smart enough to go around me or dodge me, no matter how I tried looking at the situation, neither looked like I would get out of this unscathed. But if my hope in the superhero faded, it returned when the cops and paramedics finally showed up, spilling down the stairs, the cops pointing their guns at me and the man as the medics ran to the injured woman to help her and take her away to the nearest hospital. I gulped, counting the seven officers as they closed in on us, stopping just behind Iron Man as they assessed the situation.

“Sir.” The captain addressed Iron Man and the superhero ignored him besides the small nod of his head, “We’ll handle it from here.”

“How?” Iron Man chuckled, apparently amused meanwhile I was seriously on the verge of bursting out in tears. I’ve never had so many weapons pointed at me and I didn’t know how to react other than prepare for the pain the bullets would probably leave, “By harming her too?”

The captain said nothing as he sent the superhero a sharp stare, then faced me with a reassuring smile on his face, “Do not worry, ma’am, we’ll get you just in a second.”

“Cut the crap.” I hissed, surprising everyone—even my captor—as my body shook and my voice was laced with fear and annoyance. I wasn’t a child they could fool that everyone would be alright, I was conscious that they’d have to hurt me in order to take down the man holding me, “Just do your job.”

The paramedics rushed the woman above ground, probably to an ambulance, and I wished for nothing more than to be free and sitting in an ambulance where they’d check for my injuries, hopefully not too many.

“Sir, you’ll have to drop the knife if you don’t want to—”

“Mr. S!” A boyish and excited voice called out from behind us and I sighed, mind too tired to keep up with everything that was happening. Just who was this new person and why was nobody doing anything to help me?! But almost as if the newcomer was a mind reader, he called out again, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it!”

And then everything happened at once, there was web on the man’s wrist that held the knife to my throat, and then it was yanked away, finally letting me breathe without the fear of cutting myself accidentally, and I was shoved really hard. I stumbled as my legs had gone numb, and I was sure I would crash to the ground with a loud and painful thud, but it never happened. What I did crash into was cold and hard, but it wasn’t anything like the ground. It was sturdy under my grip as I gasped and gripped onto the iron shoulders of the man, and suddenly, I craved a warm body and some fabric my fingers could dig into for comfort. My chest rose and fell so quickly I became lightheaded as I clung to the superhero with desperation, legs going jelly as he had to hold me up, “It’s fine, you’re fine. You’re safe, Miss Jang, I’ve got you.”

A sob left my throat but no tears fell from my eyes as the police officers were shouting around us, only making my panic rise as I forced my eyes shut, telling myself that if I couldn’t see then it wasn’t real. Iron Man tsked and grumbled something intangible before I felt a metallic arm underneath my knees, the other holding me up by my torso, and then I was lifted into the air bridal style and taken away from the scene of the policemen arresting my captor. I tried to reassure myself that everything was fine and that I was safe, but the lack of warm skin and a face I could associate with my saviour only made me more jittery and uncomfortable. Iron Man seemed to realize this as my muscles were tense to the point they were aching, and so, he sat me down on the stairs and tucked me away from the eyes of the world as everyone rushed around us. He stood in a way that he obscured the world for me and I was grateful as I could finally breathe. I held my head in my hands and brought my knees up to my chest, pressing my forehead against my knees, “I’m fine, I’m fine, it’s over.”

I whispered over and over until my brain finally believed what it was hearing and my muscles relaxed just a little bit, but the trembling never went away. I knew I told Wooyoung to tell Sooyoung I wouldn’t go over for dinner tonight, but I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep alone in my apartment tonight.

“Are you hurt?” Iron Man asked as he remained standing, and I gulped and licked my lips, which had become painfully dry in the span of a few minutes.

“No,” I muttered, keeping my eyes closed, “he probably scratched me, but I’m fine.”

“Good, you’re safe.”

“I know.”

My whisper was drowned out by the loud voices of the journalists who made their way down to get the last-minute news just as the cops escorted the man up the stairs. I knew I had to leave a statement and that I would be probably called to the station, but all I wanted to do was get to Sooyoung’s place and soak in a bath until it was time to go to sleep.

“Hey, Mr. Son—I mean, Iron Man!” The same boyish voice that apparently actually saved me from my captor was loud and made me cringe as I raised my head and blinked my eyes open.

“Stop yelling, idiot.” Iron Man hissed and held the man, Spiderman, back by the shoulder as he skipped over to us.

“Oh, sorry.” His voice was slightly distorted, but it was obvious he felt sorry as the eyes of his mask blinked, freaking me out even more than Iron Man’s cold costume. I was very aware that I lived in the same city as certain superheroes, but encountering them felt weird, and if I was being honest, I wasn’t much of a fan. I much preferred seeing them on the news and in newspapers. Spiderman, who sounded way too young even with his voice distorted, seemed to be just as tall as Iron Man, if not taller, and he was lean but muscular. It came as no surprise since he crawled around buildings and hopped around in the sky, hanging off his web—you needed some serious muscles for that, “I didn’t mean to startle you, are you both alright?”

“Yes, not even a scratch—”

“I was scratched.” I snapped as I looked up at the two, hugging my knees close to my chest still. Spiderman’s mask blinked again and I averted my eyes as it made my skin crawl, “But I’m alright, thank you for saving me, Spiderman.”

“Spiderman?!” The iron-clad superhero asked with an edge to his voice, almost as if he was pissed off, “I was the one to come to your rescue first—”

“And yet it was Spiderman who actually did something to save me,” I hissed, utterly spent and pissed off now that I wasn’t held at knifepoint anymore, “All you did was chat away and mock the man, endangering my life even more.”

Silence followed my harsh words but I couldn’t care less as I saw a paramedic with kind eyes and a kind smile approach us carefully, greeting the superheroes meekly, “Miss, we will have to check up on you too now.”

“I’m fine though,” I muttered and tried to stand up but found little to no power in my legs, before I could stumble, Iron Man was by my side and helping me up. I looked up at the iron mask and said nothing as I still felt disdain towards the person behind the mask.

“You don’t look fine, Miss Jang.” I huffed and allowed the superhero to help me stand until the paramedic came to my aid, holding me up as the two superheroes followed us up the stairs.

“Should I carry you, ma’am?” Spiderman asked with worry, “You’re a bit pale, I can carry you if you want me to, I know I look scrawny but I’m actually really strong!”

“I carried her just fine before, do you need assistance?” Iron Man huffed and turned his head sharply towards Spiderman as the two men walked on each side of me and the paramedic. My body was still shaking so it was a little hard to coordinate my legs, but with the help of the paramedic, I was managing just fine, except for the violent thumping of my head and the haze that followed my vision.

“What I need is you two shutting up,” As an afterthought since they did save my life, I added, “Please.”

“Sure, ma’am, but just let me know if anything’s wrong, I can—”

“Shut up.” Iron Man groaned loudly, and the paramedic snickered as if a situation like this one was something anything out of the ordinary to him.

“Yes, Mr. Son—uh, Iron Man! I mean, Iron Man, sorry sir, I’ll shut up now.” Spiderman’s voice was defeated and a little tight, and I could swear Iron Man muttered a threat under his breath, but once we were up on the surface and all the hustle and bustle of the city hit me, I felt faint. Dangerously faint as I squinted my eyes, the swirling red and blue lights of the ambulance and cop cars blinding me for a second.

“Alright, you can sit in the ambulance and I’ll do a quick check-up.” The paramedic let me know as Spiderman eagerly opened the back of the ambulance and helped the paramedic walk me up and onto the bed, “Do you have anyone we can call to take you home?”

“Park Sooyoung,” I heaved a sigh and opened my purse, “If she doesn’t pick up, then Jung Wooyoung.”

“Oh, that’s—”

“Shut up!” I flinched at Iron Man’s harsh tone as he yanked Spiderman by the collar all up in his face, shaking the younger-sounding boy as he just chuckled awkwardly and scratched the back of his head.

“Sorry, Mr. S.”

The paramedic snickered again and I handed him over my phone as he grabbed his little light to flash my eyes and momentarily blind me, “So, because it’s protocol, I’m going to ask how you feel again. Anything that’s changed now that we’re above ground?”

“No, nothing, I’m feeling fine.”

And then, the whole world went dark.

            I stared at the screen of my phone, I actually had been for a few good minutes now, but my brain didn’t register the words. Sooyoung was asking if I was up to grab a quick lunch with her, of course, if my oh-so-lovely boss allowed it, but I was way too distracted by said boss’ deep voice speaking in a hushed tone coming from the kitchen. It’s been three days since the whole metro fiasco and I had been down at the police station, gave them my statement, and I would be probably called in as a witness once the court date is set—that fucker isn’t getting out of jail after he tried to kill his girlfriend, I wouldn’t allow it.

People looked at me weirdly and I heard them whispering behind my back whenever I walked down the hallways as, of course, that idiot of a Wooyoung had run his mouth and now the whole company knew that I almost died—his words, not mine. A quick session with the company’s therapist had her convinced that I was alright and needed no further sessions despite my initial disdain to even go to one because I knew I was fine. Of course, I was a little jumpier and avoided the metro even if it took longer to get to work and then home, but until my mind would fully accept that it was a freak accident and that I was at the right place at the wrong time, I couldn’t help but indulge to the small voice of fear at the back of my mind. Sooyoung has been kinder than usual, offering up her spacious couch if I felt like crashing over at her place, but quite frankly, since Wooyoung was almost always over I preferred the quiet of my own apartment, even if I had to triple-check that I locked the front door before I went to sleep.

I was fine, I really was—and this isn’t me trying to convince myself—it’s been three days after all, and to be frank, the fact that these so-called superheroes actually do their job was another comforting thought. Well, Spiderman at least does, can’t say much about Iron Man. The only ‘help’ he offered was to stall and distract my captor, something me and the other on-lookers were managing just fine on our own too. But still, I felt a little bit of gratitude for the iron-clad superhero too for holding me and reassuring me when my brain was fogged up with terror and conviction that I was going to die. But now, three days later, things that seemed insignificant at the moment came back in flashes that had me questioning myself whether it was a fragment of my imagination or it truly had been said.

The first and biggest issue that seemed to concern me was the fact that Iron Man seemed to know my name when it wasn’t said or mentioned at the scene at all. It didn’t even occur to me at that moment as I was too wrapped up in the fact that a knife no longer put my life at risk, and even welcomed the familiarity and reassurance the superhero brought with his words. But now that I was conscious and no longer ridden with fear, I was thoroughly confused. I knew nobody had uttered my name, not even me, so just how was it possible that the iron-clad man had known it? Did superheroes have mind-reading powers too, or was it just common knowledge that Iron Man knew these sorts of things? Had I been hallucinating? But that couldn’t be either because I was sure he had said it twice, that must’ve meant something. Like the fact that I wasn’t hallucinating.

And then, not because I associate and compare all assholes to my boss, but the way Iron Man mocked my captor sounded a lot similar to the way Song Mingi would talk down on his employees, sneer on his face as arrogancy laced his tone. The voice modulator Iron Man used made it harder to assess any emotion in his tone, but I was sure I have heard a tinge of cockiness in it when he was busy mocking the man instead of saving me from him. It was a far-fetched reach, I knew it, but there was also this gut feeling that told me to trust myself and roll with the delusion. And my intuition had never been wrong before.

The third reason that it all seemed a little suspicious to me—completely aware that this was a relative fact and any man could have the physique of my boss—it still made me search up photos of Iron Man that had been taken on a whim for magazines to compare to those editorial shots Song Mingi enjoyed doing. It was a match, their shoulders wide and broad, hips narrow, creating the perfect inverted triangle shape that so many people went crazy over. Their heights seemed to be a match too, both tall intimidatingly so. I read through forums to see what others who had encountered the superhero had to say, and I wasn’t surprised to find out that they were rather condescending about him. Apparently, he liked to talk a lot before he got to do the saving, and it put other’s lives more in danger, sometimes resulting in grave injuries. He spoke like he ruled the whole world and everyone else had to bow down to him, and he oftentimes after saving the victims disregarded them and told them to go on their merry way and be more mindful next time, as if it was their fault that they had fallen victims in the first place.

And lastly, because perhaps it was the most pressing issue after the fact that Iron Man knew my name, it was the certainty that Spiderman seemed to be familiar enough with the other superhero to know his identity and address him by his name. Now, Iron Man stopped the other one each time from saying his name fully, but I had caught the little he had said, and ever since I had been thinking. I have heard others at the workplace address Song Mingi as ‘Mr. S’ more than once, even Wooyoung liked to call him that—and truly, ‘Mr. Son’ could be just an abbreviation for Mr. Song Mingi. I knew I sounded crazy to most, at least to Sooyoung definitely as she laughed when I told her my crazy theory, she didn’t understand why out of all the people I suspected my boss. Well, to be fair, I had no reason for that, but given the fact that the superhero showed up quickly to the scene, it was a real possibility. Even Spiderman and the police took longer, the company was right by the metro and Mr. Song specifically told me to go home as he wished to be alone.

Plus, because I knew Sooyoung would still consider me crazy, I told her about the fact that one time when I had been cleaning my boss’ office I discovered a hidden entry while I tried to move a decorative piece on the bookshelf. It looked like some classic villain shit at that time, but I said nothing about it to no one as I was rather complacent about keeping my job—I was still relatively new at the company. Sooyoung just laughed it off and told me that he probably had a vault in there for all the money and worthy items he owned. In fairness, it sounded plausible if my brain hadn’t decided to be suspicious of Song Mingi’s identity.

I had been devising a plan for the past two days, wondering about ways I could find out the superhero’s identity, or how I could catch my boss red-handed, but nothing was smart or subtle enough. He’d be able to trace it back to me and then all of my hard work at this company would go to waste, I didn’t want that. However, before I could start dwelling more on this, I was snapped out of my thoughts as Mr. Song’s voice carried closer to me.

“No, I told you not to come here—” Then he cut himself off with a groan, and I quickly straightened up in my chair as Mr. Song rounded the corner, the light in the kitchen switching off behind him. If he was good at something, even I couldn’t deny that it was the artificial intelligence he developed and then implemented in the whole building, “I’m not paying for your lunch again, Yunho.”

Gripping my phone a little tighter as I still had to text Sooyoung back, I allowed my eyes to rest on my boss as I took in his form, trying to recall Iron Man’s too at the same time. Mr. Song wore a suit today, all black and extremely form-fitting, with his black hair pushed back, showing off the undercut he thought made him look hotter. His vest expanded over his chest and became narrow at his waist, however, when he turned his back to me, I noticed that he had it pinched in so that it would cling to his hips instead of hanging freely and comfortably. I knew he was a man full of himself, but it was extremely infuriating that he knew how hot he was and he wasn’t ashamed to show it off too, “I told you I’m busy, kid, I can’t just free up my schedule whenever your devices go to shit.”

I flinched when Mr. Song suddenly turned, narrowed eyes landing on me as I turned my head and looked down at the computer, pretending to type away on it as I placed my phone next to the mousepad. My boss continued watching me and I tried not to peek at him, unusual to see him wear his thick glasses. Mrs. Bae had told me that he much preferred contacts and that we’d need to order new ones for him from time to time, so it made me fidgety as I wondered whether amidst my workload I had forgotten to order him some new ones, “Yunho, you’re a big boy, take care of it yourself.”

And then he rudely hung up as I could hear the other person still speaking on the other end. Mr. Song groaned loudly and my muscles tensed when he approached my desk, coming way too close for comfort. He leaned his hip against the side of it and crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking down at me. I tried not to scowl as I fixed my posture and read through the email that just made it into the inbox.

“Slacking off already?” Mr. Song mused, voice impassive, “It’s barely your fourth day.”

I remained silent and opened the email instead, skimming through it. The magazine for the editorial shoot has proposed a date and time, so, I turned my head and looked at my boss with a bored look on my face, “Is Wednesday next week good for the editorial shoot?”

“I don’t know,” He scoffed, a smirk pulling onto his lips, “You’re my secretary, you’re the one that knows my schedule.”

My jaw clenched as I stared into his sharp eyes for a second longer, hoping that he’d see I wasn’t impressed by his jabs, “Your Wednesday is free, sir, that’s why I’m asking. It so seems most of your schedules depend on whether you’re in a good mood or not, sir.”

I smiled sweetly as Mr. Song’s eyes narrowed just a little, and then he bent down, his face coming too close for my comfort, “How attentive of you. Tell them I’m only available at noon for two hours, and you’re coming too.”

“I’m doing what?” I asked alarmed, eyes widening, “Mrs. Bae never had to go with you—”

“But you’re not Mrs. Bae, are you?” I wished to punch the smirk off his face as his eyes once again took me in closely, travelling lower on my body before they stopped on my lips, making my heart beat just a bit quicker, “So free up your own schedule and dress in something sexy, can’t have you looking like a grandma if you’re to be seen in public with me.”

I couldn’t help but gape at his blatant disrespect, palms turning into fists as I turned my chair to face him better, disgusted and irritated as I tried to remain level-headed, “Since it’s my closet and my body, I’ll dress in whatever I find fit and comfortable for such occasion, Mr. Song, thank you for the recommendation though.”

“It was an order, not a recommendation.” Mr. Song’s smirk widened and my blood boiled as it was clear as day that he was enjoying the exchange, that he was having fun that I was getting heated over this, “I can buy you something pretty, Miss Jang, if that’s the issue.”

I stood up, unable to control myself as I glared my boss down despite him being obviously taller than me, “I don’t need you to buy me anything and I won’t have you order me around unless it’s strictly work-related. Just because your name is Song Mingi and you’re rich and can have anything and anyone, don’t think I won’t hurl your ass to court for breaching the contract and for trying to exploit your employees. I’m not your pet, Song.”

All amusement and arrogance left Mr. Song’s face as his expression turned cold, his sharp eyes running over my features before he hummed, rubbing his bottom lip as his glasses slipped lower on his tall nose, “Sweet, Miss Jang, perhaps then you can cancel the lunch with Mr. Park I should be leaving for right now, something more important came up. I assume you can do this much since it’s work-related.”

I gritted my teeth and exhaled, letting my features relax as I plastered on my generic smile and bowed my head just slightly, “Sure, Mr. Song, anything else?”

He took a second as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose then smoothed out his vest, leaning incredibly close so that I would hear his low voice, “The celebratory party for our collaboration with the car brand is this Saturday, I assume you know most employees are invited. You weren’t since it was Mrs. Bae supposed to come, but since you’re replacing her, I’ll be expecting to see you. Jongho will pick you up half an hour before the event.”

My mouth fell open as Mr. Song hummed and cast me one last glance before he turned and headed for his office, my mind reeling at what just happened. Jongho was his personal driver and assistant, he was almost always at his side when the two were out and about as he also served as Mr. Song’s bodyguard. I tried to form some coherent words and refuse the weird proposition, but Mr. Song was already inside his office, however, he left his door open again. My eyebrows furrowed as I settled back down in my chair, nose picking up on a sweet but musky scent that never failed to invade my nose whenever I went inside my boss’ office. It was the cologne he had been using ever since I got to know him, and my eyebrows furrowed as the elevator suddenly dinged, signalling that someone had come up to our floor. Coming to think of it, despite the metal and the obvious smell of iron, something sweet and musky clung just faintly to Iron Man’s costume the day he had saved me.

“Hi!” I flinched at the excited and loud voice, shaking my head to clear the thoughts away as I looked up. I was surprised to see a teenager standing in front of my desk, eyes round and smile brighter than my future as his puffy cheeks were tinged slightly red. He had a scarf around his neck that hid his chin and lips and he pulled his beanie off, ruffling his greenish-bluish-greyish hair, “My name is Yunho! I’m here to see Mr. S.”

“Uhm,” My eyebrows furrowed as I looked down at my computer to quickly run through Mr. Song’s schedule, “Yunho and…?”

“Jeong, Jeong Yunho, ma’am.” He answered, tone warm and soft and yet boyish at the same time as he rocked back and forth on his heels. I scanned through the schedule but his name didn’t pop up.

“Well, I don’t see you in here, Mr. Jeong.” I pursed my lips remembering Mr. Song’s orders and what I managed to eavesdrop on while he was on the phone, “But he did cancel an important lunch, were you just on the phone with him?”

“Yeah, some of my—uh, devices for school broke and I need Mr. Song’s help.” The young boy tried with a tentative smile and I hummed in acknowledgement, eyeing him curiously. But before I could tell him that I needed to check with Mr. Song first, the man appeared in the doorway and sighed loudly.

“Come on, Yunho, I don’t have all day just because you decided to parade your girlfriend around the city and broke it again.” Mr. Song deadpanned, but I was surprised to see fondness in his eyes as Yunho grinned widely, darting towards my boss after he gave me a cute wave, “Miss Jang, you can go have lunch, we’ll be busy for an hour or so, take your time.”

“Oh, Miss Jang, that’s why—” Yunho’s eyes widened as if in recognition, and I watched him with confusion as Mr. Song slapped a hand over his mouth and yanked the boy who was slightly taller than him inside his office, door slamming closed behind them, “I didn’t know she worked for you—”

“Shut up.”

And just like that, my suspicion of their identity intensified. Could Song Mingi actually be Iron Man? I didn’t know yet, but I was convinced to find out, and a brilliant idea just came to mind. I grabbed my phone and texted Sooyoung that I was too busy to have lunch today and left for the security room of our building. Call me crazy but my gut feeling was never wrong.

            However, there was a single flaw in my plan. How in the hell was I going to execute it without raising suspicions? But it was too late to dwell on that as I had already knocked on the door and was waiting for the security guy to open it. Chewing on my bottom lip, I wondered which lie would be more believable, and just as I debated on wringing Wooyoung into it too, the door opened. Thankfully it wasn’t Chanyeol as he’d be able to tell my bullshit from miles away, so I smiled cheerily and hoped the middle-aged security guard would fall for my lie.

“Hello, I’m Jang Y/N, I’m Mr. Song’s secretary assistant.” I handed my badge to the security guard and he grunted as he looked over it, handing it back to me, “I was wondering if you could let me take a peek at the security footage. My car was scratched yesterday and I’d like to see who did it since they didn’t bother leaving a note on my windshield.”

I tried my best to look disheartened but also slightly annoyed. The security guard froze for a second and then glanced behind himself, “Uh, I mean, I can look at it for you, just give me the car model and license plate.”

Fuck, that’s not how this was supposed to go. I bit my bottom lip and tried to improvise before the guard caught onto me, “You see…my ex works here too and I am pretty sure it was him. We weren’t able to settle things nicely and I know he’s still got a vendetta for me. I would hate to make this difficult for you, but I’ve got a restraining order pending and I would need the footage like…right now, you know? I can film it with my phone and later on get it emailed, but my lawyer is expecting it today if it actually was my ex.”

I almost grinned at how put-together and real my lie sounded, proud of myself. The guard’s face fell and I tried to school my expression into something like sadness and worry as he sighed, looking behind himself, “Fine, come in.”

I offered him a thankful smile and followed him inside, bowing at the other security guards as they gave us curious looks but greeted me back wordlessly. The guard led me to a different room littered with monitors and I stopped behind the chair he sat in, eyebrows furrowed as he opened a new window and typed in a code I couldn’t see as it was protected from view, “This was yesterday? When?”

“Well,” I fiddled with my fingers and tried to rake my brain for the time Wooyoung left work, “maybe around six or seven in the evening?”

“You stay a lot for someone who’s Mr. Song’s secretary assistant.” The guard made small talk as he typed in some more codes and opened up the app.

“His secretary is sick so I’m replacing her for the time being, there’s a lot of work,” I explained and he hummed, nodding his head in understanding.

“When I don’t have the overnight shift, I also spend my whole day here,” He didn’t sound as bothered as I expected him to be, “The company is huge so we must work hard to keep it going, Mr. Song appreciates us and treats us well after all.”

Well, I didn’t want to crush the false image he had of our boss, but the guard was a man and after all, Song Mingi treated his male employees a lot better and with more respect than his female ones. Besides, I bet he barely came in contact with any of his security guards—besides Chanyeol, I suppose—so of course they’d have a positive image of their boss.

“Right, you’re right,” I answered absentmindedly and watched the guard click onto the screen that looked over the garage, clicking some more to rewind the footage to yesterday.

“What car are we looking at?” He asked and I almost groaned, trying to remember the model of Wooyoung’s car.

“It’s a Mercedes-Benz, the newer type.” The guard paused and gave me a look over his shoulder, “Sorry, my ex is part of the engineering team who are developing the new prototype, and I never bothered asking for the model’s name but I’ll know when I see it!”

“I see.” The man muttered and clicked some more and there it was, the footage of Wooyoung’s car but he was nowhere in sight yet, “I’ll speed it up since you don’t know the exact time, tell me when you see him.”

“Thank you.” I gave him a wide smile and the guard grunted as he pressed play, people and cars moved quickly on the screen, but not so quickly that we wouldn’t be able to recognize them. However, this is where the issue of not having a well-thought-out plan came into play. I had no idea how to get the guard to show me footage of Mr. Song’s office, and I was also sure he’d never show it to me and would even get me fired. I tried to think hard of a way just as I spotted Wooyoung headed towards his car, I sighed but spoke up, “That’s him!”

The guard stopped the video to slow it down to regular speed, and then pressed play again, making me chew on my bottom lip and wonder whether I’d be fired if I knocked him out right now. There must be cameras inside this place too and just to make sure, I looked up towards the corner and saw the blinking red light of the CCTV. I sighed but focused back on the screen just as the guard’s phone rang. He cursed as he looked down at his phone and then paused the footage, swivelling around in his chair.

“I have to take this call; it’ll take a few minutes.” He said as he stood and hurried towards the door, “I’ll be back and then we can have a look at the footage together.”

“Sure, take your time!” I grinned at him and waved him off as he quickly left, accepting the call before the door was even closed behind him. Bingo, this was my time to shine. I waited for the guard’s voice to fade into the background and to make sure that no other guard came onside, and then I took my spot in the chair and swivelled closer to the screens. It took me a second to realize how to switch between the many screens, but having paid attention to the guard I realized that it was easier to moderate the system than I initially thought. I clicked on the window that had Mr. Song’s office and squinted my eyes as I watched him and Yunho huddled together at his desk, things pushed to the side as they both were leaning over something. I searched the screen for something that would make the image larger and grinned when I spotted the emoticon, clicking on it quickly as I was curious to see what got the two men so concerned.

Something small, a device as they had called it, was placed on the desk as they crowded around it, lips moving as they spoke to each other. The younger boy had disregarded his backpack, coat, scarf and beanie on the leather sofa and seemed rather comfortable despite this being the first time I saw the two together. But based on Mr. Song’s body language and the way he spoke to him, I knew the two were familiar with each other. A little intrigued myself by that little device, I found myself curiously watching the footage, a yelp almost leaving my mouth when the two men sprung back as something wet exploded out of it. It covered the two in a sticky-like substance and I watched amazed as Mr. Song’s rigid expression melted into that of amusement as Yunho’s head was thrown back, body shaking from his laughter. It only took another second before Mr. Song was also laughing, pulling his glasses off and nudging Yunho as the taller one clung to my boss and threw more of that weird substance at Mr. Song. I had never seen my boss so laid back and happy so it took me a second to snap out of it and stop admiring his crooked smile through the CCTV, subsequently remembering why I was here.

Adrenaline rushed through my system as I realized the guard could be back anytime and catch me red-handed, surely I’d be fired with a case on my hands then, and despite Song Mingi being a nightmare, the paycheck and people working here were too good for me to want to actually leave this company. So, I found the option that allowed me to rewind the footage, only to get my hopes crushed when it asked for a code. I bit my bottom lip and tried to recall the numbers the guard had typed in since I took a peek at the keyboard, but it was fruitless. I found myself slightly panicking and pulling at the collar of my blue striped shirt, the chain of my badge brushing against my hand. My eyes widened and I looked down at it wonderingly, could it work? Pressed by time, I decided to try my luck once again as I flipped my badge and searched for my security number on it. I glanced back at the screen and decided to do it, type in my security number. The worst that could happen was the artificial host that Mr. Song designed would recognize someone was trying to ‘hack’ into the system and shut down the whole company while alerting the police and Mr. Song—lovely.

Sweating a little as my finger hovered over the enter button, I took a deep breath and swiftly pressed it as I had wasted too much time already. To my surprise, the screen started loading as it scanned the code and then suddenly it flashed black before a new window popped up asking for a date and time. My jaw dropped open in surprise and I fumbled for a second as my heart thundered in my chest, unable to celebrate my victory as I pressed in the date and approximate time with shaky fingers, chewing on my bottom lip. I must’ve eaten the lip tint already despite applying it this morning with how much I bit and licked at my lips due to being nervous. The screen loaded once again and then there it was. Mr. Song in his office, all alone, the hallway dark outside as I had left just a few minutes ago. He was sat in his chair, leaned back with his legs spread wide open as he stared out the window, running his fingers through his hair. Something seemed to get his attention as a red light flashed on his desk, and I realized it was coming from the thing I assumed was his desk clock. His lips moved but there was no sound as the cameras only recorded images, and then I watched as Mr. Song’s jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed. He sprung out of his chair and rushed towards the massive staircase, his fingers brushing against the books and the decorative piece I accidentally discovered myself.

I wasn’t surprised to see the staircase moving, making way to a dark passageway that was lit up as Mr. Song quickly hurried down, disappearing from the camera. I looked over the other windows and realized that there were no cameras in the room he had just gone in, so I prepared my phone's camera pointing it at the screen, and pressed record. The wait made it worse; my heart was thumping fast and every sound outside the door made me jump, but just when I considered fast-forwarding, Song Mingi appeared in the frame once again. No, not Song Mingi but Iron Man. Its mask was still open so nobody could even deny it that it wasn’t Song Mingi and I gasped as I watched him walk towards his window while pressing buttons on the left arm of his suit. The mask closed and the window slid to the left, making way for Iron Man to leave the office. And then, he was off, flying towards the metro station and leaving me gaping as I paused the footage and stopped my recording. My fingers shook as I fell back in the chair and I ran my fingers through my hair, not having actually expected Mr. Song to be Iron Man.

Of course, I was quite suspicious and even almost fully convinced it was him, but I fully expected to be proven otherwise since I was only being delusional, as Sooyoung had claimed. But no, it was real, my gut feeling was right once again. I took a second to try and wrap my mind around my findings and rationalize my next thought, but there were loud noises outside the room and I panicked, clicking through the windows and struggling to get rid of the footage I had just watched as I couldn’t find the ‘x’ button. The door opened just as I jumped out of the chair and raised my phone as if I had gotten an urgent text or phone call.

“Sorry about that, it was an urgent—”

“Mr. Song just texted me that he needs me up at the office, thank you but I’ll come back sometime else!” I rushed out as the security guard looked at me confused, stepping aside when I hurried towards the door.

“Oh, if you tell me the license plate, I can email it to—”

“Don’t worry about it!” I gave him a bright smile and a tap on his shoulder before I dashed outside, heart beating fast as I clutched my phone to my chest, the video in my gallery glaring back at me as I ran for the stairs, trying to keep my legs steady due to the heels I wore. But what would I do now? Do I tell Mr. Song that I know who he is? That I know he’s Iron Man? Or do I try to exploit this since he’s always an asshole and even a jerk to me? Does Mrs. Bae even know? What would she do in this situation? She’d certainly be disappointed in me if she were to know I tried blackmailing my boss, but if Mr. Song had been a nice person, then I wouldn’t have tried my luck with this crucial information on my hands.

Blackmailing it is, then.

            The rest of the day felt like torture. Pacing up and down outside Mr. Song’s office while he was busy with his meetings and who knows what else didn’t help at all with soothing my nerves, and despite a quick Google search of effective blackmailing tactics, I still came up empty-handed. I had to admit that I wasn’t as brave as I had once regarded myself, but if there was one thing I knew about myself, it was that I was stubborn and determined to go through with this no matter what. I didn’t have an exact reason as to why I was doing this, but I was self-aware enough to realise that I wanted to feel in control, that I wanted to show Mr. Song that he wasn’t untouchable and neither the hot shit he believed himself to be. Of course, he could fire me and blacklist me at all companies, but as Wooyoung once had said, why live a boring life when you can bring a little edge and excitement into it by fucking it up yourself. He was right, but I didn’t know whether taking advice from someone like Wooyoung was smart or not.

So, without wanting to gain anything out of blackmailing Song Mingi, I decided to stay for as long as he did, and just be upfront when he’d be on his way home. Surely, he’d be too tired by then to give too many fucks about his stupid secretary assistant—now secretary replacement—and maybe he’d offer me more money, which…I would accept, obviously, but not without making a few demands like, he’d have to behave if he wanted to talk to me and respect me like any other male employee he had. Surely, I wasn’t asking for much, but with my boss, you never knew what was too much.

So, when it was well after working hours and my legs and back ached from sitting all day long, I decided to brew myself some tea and wait for another hour before I’d finally go home. Mr. Song had been cooped up in his office for hours now, the door closed and locked, and the windows were blurred so that only the light pouring out from underneath his door was the only visible thing and a tell-tale sign that he was still at the company. I couldn’t lie, I was actually quite curious about what he was doing in there, but my pride wouldn’t allow me to ask him—maybe I could ask Mrs. Bae once she had returned. While the kettle whistled and sizzled as I poured the hot water into my cup, I failed to hear that Mr. Song unlocked his door and opened it with a loud groan, too caught up in not spilling the hot water like I had done so before many times. With two spoonfuls of honey in it and the teabag thrown into the bin, I smiled in content as I made to return to my desk. Since I was still here, I figured I could phone up the accountant and settle the monthly appointment he had with Mr. Song, but I was scared out of my mind once I spotted Mr. Song’s tall frame leaning against the doorframe. His arm was up and pressing into the doorframe. His hair looked dishevelled, his black shirt was untucked from his pants with the top buttons unbuttoned, and his vest forgotten somewhere in his office.

I halted as if I was caught doing something bad and stared back at my boss as he fixed his thick glasses. He pursed his lips and looked rather displeased at seeing me, but his eyes curiously fell onto the cup I was holding, mindful of the hot ceramic, “What are you drinking?”

“Wildberry tea,” I answered and cleared my throat, resuming my walk over to my desk. Mr. Song hummed and licked his lips, eyes stuck to my form as I gave him a questioning look once I sat down in my chair.

“Could you make me some too?” He asked, sounding so unlike himself as his tone was laced with exhaustion, “Is it sweet?”

“Yeah, it’s sweet,” I said as he tapped the doorframe before he turned to head back inside his office.

“Make me some!” He called over his shoulder and I rolled my eyes, slouching in my chair. I didn’t want to get up again and fetch him some tea when my feet were killing me, he could get it himself, but he was too lazy and I knew he had fun walking me around all day as if I were his pet, it was infuriating. But perhaps this was my chance to finally do what I was here for, blackmail him. I grinned as I got up from my chair with a newfound passion, hurrying towards the kitchen to pour my boss tea and add two spoonfuls of honey. I placed the cup on a tray as well as three chocolate chip cookies, a napkin, and then I headed for Mr. Song’s office after I fetched my phone. It sat heavy in my dress pants’ pocket as I knocked on the open door as a heads up that I was heading in, and then I walked inside, my red high heels clicking loudly against the marble floor as it was dead silent in Mr. Song’s office.

It was dimly lit now, unlike when the door was closed and locked, and I let my eyes quickly run over the place as they lingered on the hidden door, it was closed, of course. I averted my eyes and looked back at my boss, whose eyebrows were furrowed and glasses discarded in front of him as he stared at his computer’s screen with mild annoyance on his face. Some strands of his black hair stuck up in places in a funny way, and I gulped down the chuckle that threatened to escape my lips, It was rather unusual seeing Mr. Song so stressed and pressed by whatever had him annoyed.

“Here’s your tea,” I announced as I came to a stop next to him, not too close though, and placed the tray carefully on the desk, in its usual spot. Mr. Song hummed, his eyes still glued to the screen, and too curious for my own good, I took a peek at it, surprised to find him reading the news about a war that’s been ongoing for way too long now. I never took Mr. Song as a person who would worry about others or would feel pressured to do something, but the creases on his forehead and the slight sneer on his lips were rather obvious factors that he wasn’t pleased with the development of the war. And then, looking at the article for a little longer, I realized they were bashing his weapons and his company. Now it made sense that he looked annoyed, suddenly I didn’t feel as brave as before to tell him that I knew he was Iron Man.

“Did you put sugar in it?” He suddenly asked and glanced at me, making me stand up straight and quickly avert my eyes from his computer’s screen.

“No, it’s better with honey,” I answered and his eyebrows only furrowed further as he glanced at the tray then back at me. He fell back in his chair and heaved a long sigh, chewing on his bottom lip. The longer I looked at him, the more I realized something was bothering him. I didn’t dare ask whether anything was wrong, and he said nothing as he continued looking at me. My heart had started beating faster and I gulped as my phone seemed to weigh bricks in my pocket, a reminder of why I was still at the company and not at home, in my bathtub soaking up my flowery scented bath bombs.

“I don’t like honey.” Mr. Song muttered at last and I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying something I might regret later. I sighed and reached for the teacup with a displeased expression on my face.

“Fine, I’ll bring you another one with sugar—”

“I’ll drink it.” I froze as he grabbed my hand, looking up at me with glimmering eyes, and suddenly I couldn’t think straight. He looked very much nothing like the man I had known for years, and it almost made me question myself. Could Mr. Song have an actual soft and caring side? Was he not always an arrogant prick who hit on women and only used them for his sexual needs? I gulped and looked down at our hands, his big palm was calloused and it almost completely engulfed my hand. It made my cheeks flush and I found myself speechless for a second.

“Oh, okay,” I said quietly and went to pull back, but Mr. Song didn’t release my hand just yet. His eyebrows were furrowed and he seemed to be in deep thought as he looked up at me again with defeat in his eyes.

“Do you ever feel alone, Miss Jang?” My eyes widened at the sincerity in his voice and more so because of the question he asked. I had never thought a man like Song Mingi would be asking me such a thing, certainly, he cannot be lonely, he’s got everyone and everything he could ever want. Perhaps it’s a trick question he can fire me over.

“I think everyone feels alone at times, Mr. Song.” I answered truthfully, not expecting him to nod along and hum in agreement. I almost jumped when his thumb started caressing my skin, covering my arms in goosebumps as I once again looked down at our hands. His touch was warm and gentle, inoffensive and almost as if he wasn’t doing it consciously as it was slow and inconsistent.

“Even if they are constantly surrounded by people?” I nodded as I continued looking down, shifting my weight from one leg to another.

“Of course, it doesn’t matter how many people are around us and, on our side, if they only want something from us.” I shrugged and looked up, finding Mr. Song already looking at me intensely. I gulped and continued unsurely, “I mean, many people only create connections to exploit them later on, so I think it’s important to surround ourselves with genuine people who want what’s best for us, like our friends.”

“And if the individual doesn’t have genuine friends?” Mr. Song suddenly stood and I felt a little intimidated as he placed my hand on his desk and pressed his over mine, pretty much trapping me in one place, unless I wanted to rip it out from underneath his touch.

“Then it must be a truly lonely life, Mr. Song, they should look for quality and not quantity.” My eyebrows furrowed as Mr. Song’s strong cologne reached my nose, and it was a sore reminder that I had a plan that I still hadn’t gone through with yet.

“There are few chances to meet genuine people in my line of work,” He chuckled bitterly and stepped closer, making me look up at him as my heart started racing uncomfortably once again. His proximity felt a little uncomfortable but not as bothersome as on my first day—perhaps because he had no regard for personal space and always managed to invade it somehow, even if he was just talking to you, “There are few people who see me for who I am.”

I hummed and bit my bottom lip to stop myself from slipping up and telling him that there was a reason for that and that it was because he was a complete asshole to almost absolutely everyone. But my silence seemed to only spur him on and I was rather surprised that my boss was pouring his heart out to me in his office, after working hours, “There’s few people who don’t want what I own and even fewer people who aren’t eager to get in my good graces just because I’m powerful and able to change their lives for the better or worse. And even fewer women who wouldn’t bed me just because I’m rich and own a mansion and luxurious cars.”

Ah, so Mr. Song was only trying to get in my pants. I was surprised to find myself disappointed and bitter as the thought settled deep in my mind while Mr. Song’s hand slowly gripped my wrist, pulling me gently towards himself as I was unable to react just yet. I thought we were having a genuine conversation about a rather trivial issue that everyone faced daily, but no, he just wanted to fuck me. I should’ve expected it, of course, he wasn’t trying to pour his soul out to someone willing to listen, even if that someone was his secretary’s assistant. Of course, he wasn’t a good human being who tried to find solace in another one, to make a genuine connection and speak honestly. Instead of being disappointed by Mr. Song’s actions, I should’ve been more disappointed in myself and the fact that I believed he could be good even if for a few minutes. It made me want to cry, but instead, I felt rage simmer under my skin and my expression became schooled as Mr. Song continued staring into my eyes deeply, his face coming closer and closer. I didn’t move, I let him grip my waist and angle his head so that his lips would brush against mine, and then I spoke.

“I know you’re Iron Man.”

Song Mingi froze, face giving nothing away but his body went rigid and his grip on my waist and wrist tightened. He didn’t have to say anything for me to know that he felt caged, that his mind was twisting and turning to find a reasonable answer that could deny my claim. But I wouldn’t stop now because he didn’t deserve it. He was a piece of shit and I have had enough of him.

“Don’t try to deny it.” My voice was bitter and tone snappy as I glared into his eyes, gripping his arm to push it off my wrist, “I have proof, Mr. Song, and I will take it to newspapers if you try to sweet talk your way out of this.”

“What do you want?” Mr. Song’s was eerily cold, eyes that had been previously soft now all sharp and glaring as he leaned down so that we’d be eye to eye, our jaws clenched as I hoped my expression conveyed the spite I felt towards him.

“Nothing,” I shrugged and watched as his eyebrows formed a small frown, “Nothing material that is, but you should start fixing your attitude towards your employees and women especially. It’s sickening that you think you can toy around with us and then fire us because you got bored of fucking the same person, Mr. Song. It’s disgusting—you are disgusting by doing this.”

He released me at once and took a step back, furious very obviously as he scoffed, pushing his hair back and out of his eyes, “And this concerns you how? I thought you were a mere employee and not my mother, Miss Jang, but by all means, please tell me what else I need to fix to fall into your good graces.”

I smiled at him, all sarcastic and ready to tell him to fuck himself, “The last thing I wish for is to spend more time with you, sir, so don’t worry, you won’t have to fall into my good graces, I don’t think that’s even possible at this point. I was merely making a suggestion, perhaps you’d feel less alone if you tried to maintain a pure and genuine connection with someone for once.”

“If that is all, you can go home, Miss Jang.” Mr. Song crossed his arms in front of his chest, lips forming a sneer, “Maybe I shouldn’t have saved you if you’re so ungrateful.”

“Spiderman saved me, not you.” I snapped with fire in my voice, annoyed and irritated, “Even when you’re supposed to save someone all you can do is be arrogant and satisfy your need to show you’re superior to others, it’s pitiful—”

“Out, now.”

With one last shared glare full of spite, I stormed out of his office and Mr. Song walked after me to slam his door closed shatteringly strong.

            I should have been fired. I know I should have been because I was disrespectful to my boss, and perhaps if I had been in his place, I would’ve fired myself for sure. But I knew his secret and maybe that played a part in me keeping this job for who knows how long. But still, I should have been fired, or at least never spoken to again by Mr. Song, so explain why I found a fancy black box in front of my front door this morning after I returned from grocery shopping. Yes, it was Saturday and I was expected to show up at this fancy get-together to celebrate the collaboration of the two companies, and yes, I did consider emailing Mr. Song that I had fallen ill and wouldn’t make it. So, imagine my complete shock when I unboxed my anonymous package and found a gorgeous black dress with the price still on, making my jaw drop not once but twice. It cost a fortune and I might as well have lost my mind when I found the small note tucked underneath the satin fabric.

There’s a dress code for the party, wear this. ~ S.M.

Perhaps getting an existential crisis would’ve sounded much better than getting an insanely expensive cocktail dress gifted by your boss to an event you had no business attending, but because his secretary couldn’t go you had to fill in for her. I love Mrs. Bae dearly, but this was not in the job description when I sent my resume in. I knew people of all sorts would be there, all important and owners of multifaceted businesses and companies that were just as rich as Mr. Song’s, and I was understandably nervous. I knew I wasn’t supposed to speak to anyone, which I was more than glad to do, but what if anyone spoke to me? What was I supposed to do then? Mind racing with all different sorts of scenarios, I decided to ask Sooyoung to come over and help me get ready—which was actually just a distraction from the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about that damned Song Mingi.

Sooyoung, as always, was a sweetheart and made me laugh while we had lunch, while Wooyoung harassed us with phone calls, saying that he also wanted to come over and participate in all the gossiping he knew we’d be doing. San wasn’t available tonight, which meant that Wooyoung would be bored, but in the end, threatening to block his number on both phones managed to calm him down, so he finally left us alone. Sooyoung just sighed and apologized because Wooyoung was still clingy after three years of dating, and Sooyoung knew I could get easily annoyed and overwhelmed by her overbearing boyfriend. But I knew he meant well, and I never guilt-tripped Sooyoung too much for her boyfriend’s obnoxious personality.

But the moment to get ready came and I was more than mortified when Sooyoung emptied her tote bag on my bed and started listing off all the lotions and serums and perfumes and bath bombs she brought over for me to use, “You never know where you’ll meet your man, Y/N, you must be ready at all times!”

“Does that mean I must exfoliate my body with three different body soaps?!”

“Well, obviously yes! Your skin needs to be soft!”

“My skin is already soft, you know that. I’m not using all of that Sooyoung, please.”

“Fine, but shave at least, okay? For me?”

“I don’t shave, I only wax.”

“But tonight—”

“I’m not going there because I’m trying to bag a billionaire, Sooyoung, I’m going because my boss told me to go.”

“You could’ve said no.”

“And risk getting fired?”

“Fair enough, go on then, time is ticking, bestie.”

And that is how I found myself two hours into getting ready, only a few more minutes until Jongho buzzed me to go down so that he could drive us to the company. Sooyoung helped me do a low bun that sat securely at my nape, front strands curled and framing my face prettily. My makeup was simple because I refused to let her help me with a smokey eye, I opted to wear a softer eye look so that I could wear my red lipstick. Sooyoung had a similar reaction to me when she saw my dress, and her jaw was on the floor as she reluctantly touched the glittery tulle dress, eyes switching between me and the dress.

“So, he bought this for you?” She asked with her mouth still hanging open as I changed into clean underwear in my bathroom.

“I’m sure he had it lying around somewhere in that big mansion of his,” I muttered with a scoff and Sooyoung tsked.

“No, I’m sure he bought it specifically for you, Y/N.” I rolled my eyes and prayed the stockings wouldn’t rip as I pulled them over my knees.

“Yeah, sure, I’m not some peasant turned princess overnight, okay?” I muttered with a huff as I started sweating, this stocking was kicking me in the butt, had I gotten a size smaller?

“Y/N,” Sooyoung’s serious voice made me yelp as she appeared in the doorway, pushing the door open. She had an incredulous look on her face like she had seen a ghost or had been just proposed to, I couldn’t decide, “Your name is on the tag, sewn into it, more specifically—”

“What?” I asked alarmed as I pushed past her and went to my bed to see for myself. I managed to adjust my stockings and gave a last prayer that they wouldn’t rip until I made it back home, then I wouldn’t care about it anymore. I held the dress carefully and touched the tag, leaning down to see it better. My eyes widened when I realized Sooyoung wasn’t joking, and I looked at her with round eyes, “What?!”

“Exactly!” Sooyoung shrieked and I gulped, jerking my head away when she came and hugged my side, “Are you sure you’re not into your boss?”

“Yes, very sure.” I huffed and made sure Sooyoung wouldn’t ruin my hair or makeup as I let her continue embracing me.

“Not even a little bit?” She grinned and batted her eyelashes at me, “Because I’m sure he is into you—”

“Alright, stop right there.” I groaned and pulled myself out of her embrace, “My boss is a womanizer and two days ago he tried to tell me a sob story to try and get into my pants, so no, Song Mingi isn’t into me and I’m not into him. Case closed, Sooyoung, I hate him and I hope he hates me too. I cannot wait for Mrs. Bae to return so that I don’t have to face him ever again.”

Sooyoung pursed her lips and gave me a look as she raised the dress for me, “Fine, but nobody gifts a dress like this—”

“He’s a millionaire—if not billionaire at this point—so no, Sooyoung, he can gift me a dress like that because it’s nothing compared to how much he spends monthly.” Before Sooyoung could oppose, I raised my hand, “I know because I’m the one who puts together his monthly expenses.”

“Okay, whatever.” Sooyoung huffed in defeat and walked closer, “Jongho is supposed to arrive any minute now, let’s get you into the dress.”

And I let my best friend help me wear the expensive and gorgeous dress, soft against my skin and exactly my size. I didn’t want to think too hard about how Mr. Song knew my exact size, but I suppose when you sleep with so many women, one glance at their bodies and you just know. A rather disturbing and disgusting thought that I didn’t care to dwell on too much right now.

The dress reached past my knees and the sparkly fabric that came over the satin didn’t bother my skin at all. The corset bustier was semi-transparent and had a heart-shaped neckline in the front and lacing back, complemented with a sparkly black cape, which came with voluminous sheer puffy long sleeves. The gown was made of sparkly tulle and satin, its skirt puffy and creating the impression that I was wearing a puffed-up princess gown. Both Sooyoung and I stayed silent as we stared at me through the mirror and I gulped, twisting and turning to check myself out from all angles. I hated to admit it, but Mr. Song’s taste was spectacular. The dress looked rather pretty on me and delicately suited my shape and form. Each time I attempted to finally step away from the mirror and stop admiring myself, I found something new to marvel at, and, thus ended up grinning from ear to ear when Sooyoung started snapping chaotic pictures of me, the both of us a giggling mess when there was a buzz at the intercom. We froze and looked at each other and then I was racing towards it. I knew it was Jongho, but it could’ve been anyone else too.

“This is Jongho, I’ll be waiting by the car.” The man’s gruff voice said through the intercom and I felt jittery and nervous all over again.

“I’ll be down in a second!”

Sooyoung already had my coat and purse in her hands, and I gave her a grateful smile as I quickly wore my high heels, not keen on making Jongho wait too long for me. Sooyoung grabbed her stuff quickly too and then we were out the door, the front door locked, and headed for the elevator in a hurry. The ride down was filled with more laughter as Sooyoung tried to distract me since I was feeling nervous, but it didn’t help much when I spotted Jongho leaning against Mr. Song’s sleek Mercedes-Benz, a sophisticated beige colour. Despite not having vast knowledge about cars, I knew that this one was a classic as I have heard my boss gloat about it to others not once or twice, but many times. The car was from around the seventies and the model’s name seemed to stick with me, it was a Pagoda. It felt illegal to touch it, let alone lean against it as casually as Jongho was doing.

“Good evening, ladies.” There was a playful glint in his eyes as he bowed almost mockingly, and I huffed as I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

“Hi, Jongho.” I greeted as Sooyoung waved at him, the two knew each other because Wooyoung liked getting drunk at team dinners and it was usually Jongho who drove him home as he rarely drank, busy running after Mr. Song’s ass.

“Well, if we don’t leave in two minutes our lovely Mingi will have us both fired, so…” He trailed off as he pushed off the car and opened the door for me with that playful glint still present in his eyes. Jongho was a well-built man, strong no doubt, but with a soft and cute face and a smile that could charm many—I had been charmed too, unfortunately, since he knew how to use it to his advantage and made me lose a significant amount of money one time when he decided he wanted to play the claw machine. He was tenacious and smart, a deadly combination for a weak-hearted person.

“Don’t worry, Jongho,” I gave him a huge grin as I walked closer, “we’re too precious to be fired, after all, who would clean up Mr. Song’s mess if we weren’t there for him?”

“That’s right,” Jongho muttered and I pressed a quick kiss to Sooyoung’s cheek before I hurriedly sat inside the fancy car, mindful not to scratch the red leather and interior of the car. It was beautiful and expensive, I didn’t understand how Mr. Song allowed anyone else to drive the car, but after all, Jongho was a trustworthy person and a good driver. Besides, I am pretty sure Jongho is the only person who Mr. Song considers to be his friend despite him being his employee, and I’m also pretty sure Mr. Song is a little bit afraid of Jongho because he never misbehaves when the other is around.

“Are you joining us at the party?” I asked curiously as Jongho sat inside too and ignited the engine to life, the rumble a low purr, a rather satisfying sound. Sooyoung grinned at us and waved as Jongho carefully pulled out of the parking lot, and we were off to S. Industries, my heart in my throat. I could only hope at least one familiar face would be at the party, someone I could talk to and hide behind if necessary.

“I’m not in the mood, to be honest,” Jongho said with his lips pursed, turning onto the main street with ease. The hardtop of the car was on as the weather didn’t allow us to ride without it, something I would’ve actually really enjoyed doing now, “But Mingi did say he wanted me there so I’ll just stick close to the exit. You know, doing bodyguard stuff.”

I chuckled and adjusted myself in the seat, admiring the interior as I carefully reached forward to touch the dashboard. I’ve seen the car numerous times but I have never come as close to it as I was right now, “Are you nervous?”

I gulped and looked at Jongho as he sped through the yellow light, “Is it that obvious? I’m shitting my pants, I’m not going to lie.”

Jongho laughed, sounding cute and warm, and his lips stayed in their usual gummy smile, “You should relax, you’re not supposed to do anything, so really, it’s just a good opportunity to get to know more people. Maybe someone steals you from Mr. Song and then there’ll be a big scandal that I’ll happily enjoy from the sidelines.”

“I know I have no actual reason to be nervous, but I’ve never been to an event like this one before and I just…I don’t know, actually.” I sighed and looked out the window as Jongho turned onto the street where the company was situated at, traffic was scarce tonight, “I’m not particularly fond of people like Mr. Song.”

“Mingi especially.” Jongho muttered with a cackle and gave me an encouraging smile as we stopped at the gates of the underground parking lot of the company, “You’ll see you’ll find likeable people tonight, maybe some new friends even. At least I know Mr. Park is a very humble and generous man, if you stir up a conversation with him, he’ll be more than happy to indulge.”

“Wait,” Suddenly I realized something I hadn’t thought about before, “Wooyoung will be here too, right?”

We were let in as the gate opened and Jongho waved at the guard as we drove inside the parking lot, “Yeah, unfortunately. Who do you think will drive his drunk ass home tonight? Me, and I don’t want to, but I’m a good friend.”

“I thought you weren’t friends.” They were, but Jongho denied it every chance it was brought up since he was embarrassed by Wooyoung’s personality. Jongho grumbled something and I chuckled as he parked the car rather skilfully.

“He said he won’t take me to the Bahamas if I keep denying that we’re friends, so…” He gave me a look which made me laugh, and we both got out of the car once it was parked with the engine killed. But for the rest of the way, we remained silent, especially since the elevator was filled with people dressed in fancy outfits as they were headed up to the fifteenth floor, which totally had a ballroom sort of thing going on. I didn’t want to wonder much about why such a room existed in a company like Song Mingi’s, but I supposed he’d flaunt his wealth any time he could.

The hallway was decorated with golden accents and dimly lit, a red carpet laid out, guiding you towards the entrance of the ballroom. I followed the others as I stuck to Jongho’s side, and he gave me a grin as we reached the entrance, bodyguards stopping everyone to check their invites and if their names were on the list. It was a pretty exclusive party, people couldn’t just sneak in if they wanted to. It was mainly to avoid a bunch of press people and journalists who liked to stick their noses where they didn’t belong to. I froze for a second when I noticed the security guard who helped me, sort of, by the door as recognition passed his face when he spotted me. I tried to look normal as I nodded towards him and thankfully, he was distracted by Jongho when he went over to greet his colleagues. He wished me luck and then I was off, greeted by Chanyeol when he told the bodyguard to let me through since I was Mr. Song’s secretary (assistant).

The inside of the ballroom was better lit than the hallway, it was decorated with anything golden, and there was a bar filled with people ordering drinks. Orchestra music was playing at a pleasant volume so that people could converse but also dance if they so wished to do, and I found myself not knowing what to do now. I stood awkwardly in the doorway and then decided to move towards my left, keeping close to the wall as waiters walked around with trays, carrying champagne and even some snacks and fruits. Everyone was dressed to the nines and most women wore festive gowns or cocktail dresses and jewellery that glimmered in the lightning subtly, surely worth more than everything I owned as they were mostly diamonds, no doubt. I felt out of place as I slipped out of my coat and looked around, trying to find a hanger or anything. There was none and I jumped when a waiter suddenly stood in front of me with a bored look on his face.

“Champagne?” I wanted to refuse but one quick glance around me told me that everyone had a glass in their hands, so I accepted it, fumbling with my coat and purse.

“Do you know where I can put these down?” I motioned towards my belongings and the waiter sighed before he extended his arm.

“There’s a wardrobe, I’ll take it there.” And then he went to walk off, but paused, “Do you perhaps work for Mr. Song?”

“I do.” Suddenly I felt extra self-conscious, was it that obvious that I didn’t belong here?

“Oh, good.” The waiter seemed to perk up a bit, even smiling a little, “You’re Miss Jang, his secretary?”

“Uh, secretary assistant.” I corrected him, and he just waved it off.

“Yeah, good, I’ll put your stuff with Mr. Song—”

“Don’t do that!” I almost but exclaimed, and quickly blushed when a woman who walked by us gave me a look, “I mean, please, I can hold onto it or something—”

“These are Mr. Song’s orders, so I can’t really go against it.” Then he bowed his head a bit and walked off before I could object some more, leaving me with wide eyes. Why would Song Mingi bother with telling the waiters to take my belongings to where his were? It made no sense, but perhaps that’s the treatment I got for being here in Mrs. Bae’s place. I cradled the champagne glass in my hands and looked around, looking for Wooyoung even if he was annoying and embarrassing. Although I doubted Mr. Song would’ve let him come if he didn’t know how to behave in a place like this. But as my eyes surveyed the crowd, instead of finding my best friend’s boyfriend, I found my boss. Unsurprisingly, he was at the bar, leaning against it as he was chatting to some pretty woman who was all smiles and laughed at almost everything Mr. Song said. I couldn’t imagine anything my boss ever said would be funny, but he most definitely acted differently towards people who weren’t his employees. I mean, he was well-known for sleeping with women left and right, so it wouldn’t surprise me if he was on the hunt tonight despite the gravity of this event.

He held a glass in his hands, and I wasn’t surprised to see a ring on almost every finger of his, the one with a big ruby in it rather eye-catching. Being himself, Mr. Song certainly dressed to impress, and as I took in his attire, I realized with alarm that indeed there was a dress code to this event and it wasn’t black. Every woman in the room wore different shades of golden or beige, all light and sparkly at times, meanwhile the men wore mostly beige or a darker shade of cream. Eyes snapping back to Mr. Song, I realized it was quite literally just the two of us wearing black outfits, and suddenly I felt really stupid and embarrassed as I stuck out like a sore thumb in the crowd. I now understood why everyone was giving me looks once they passed by me, and I had to take several deep breaths to stop myself from blowing up or crying, I couldn’t decide which one just yet.

Mr. Song’s blazer was cropped and put accent onto his shoulders, and perhaps it was glitterier than my dress and all the other ones combined. His pants seemed to be high-waisted and loose as they came down past his ankles, and as he angled his body to face the front of the room, my eyes widened when I spotted him wearing nothing but a simple vest underneath his blaze. It came up to his pecks and it was buttoned up all the way, stopping just above the hem of his dress pants. Heavy silver chains hung around his neck, complementing the jewellery on his fingers and bringing out his tan complex more. I didn’t understand why I had to be wearing black as well, surely, he didn’t want anyone else stealing the spotlight from him, yet here I was, merely a secretary assistant with our outfits assorted even down to their sparklines. I hated it, I concluded that it made me want to cry and I swiftly downed my champagne in one go, jaw clenching and eyes glaring as I turned my head away, unable to look at my asshole of a boss anymore.

I tried to hunt down another waiter with a tray to place my empty glass onto, but they were nowhere to be seen, so I just stormed towards the exit with the glass still in my hands. People were still coming in and it proved to be a bit hard to leave the room as I had to wait until everyone came inside, and unfortunately, Chanyeol had spotted me.

“Y/N,” He said with a small smile as he checked a man’s invitation, “You look gorgeous, that dress looks amazing on you. It’s almost as if it was tailored for you.”

I gulped to force down the lump in my throat and tried to smile as the man he allowed inside gave me a long look, a smirk appearing on his lips, “Thank you, do you think I could slip out for a second?”

“Bathroom break?” Chanyeol chuckled, and meanwhile I usually appreciated how carefree he was, I wasn’t in the mood to chit-chat around with him. I nodded wordlessly and he asked a lady to step aside for a second so that I could leave. I was glad that Jongho was nowhere to be seen as I stormed down the hallway, aimlessly as I had never been on this floor before and had no idea where the bathroom even was. The music grew to just a mere hum as I rounded a corner and found myself standing in a lobby, huge doors to my left and right. It was the restrooms and I headed for the emerald-coloured couch in the middle of the room. It was a semi-circle and had its back to the other couch and I plopped down on it, not minding my dress as I slouched, placing the glass on the floor next to my leg. I sighed loudly and closed my eyes, trying to calm my nerves since all I wanted to do was walk up to my boss and demand an explanation as to why he bought me a black dress. Was he mocking me? Was he making fun of me? Did he enjoy berating his hard-working employees? Was this some sort of stupid powerplay? I was furious and I was ready to go on a full whispered rant when the doors to the men’s restroom slammed shut loudly. I had missed the footsteps, but it seemed like whoever entered hadn’t noticed me either.

I knew hiding out here wasn’t smart on my part as Mr. Song would certainly want to see me, so I took a deep breath and told myself that I could call him out later or at the office on Monday, if not tonight. I couldn’t let him get under my skin again, I had to be better than that. Perhaps I should find Wooyoung and grab a drink with him, let him introduce me to some smart people and watch where the night takes us. Grabbing the glass, I rose and fixed my dress, checking myself out in the big mirror to make sure I looked fine. My cheeks were a bit rosy from my sudden anger, but if I plastered on my fake smile, nobody could tell I wasn’t feeling so fine. I took off and rounded the corner just as the men’s restroom door opened again, slamming shut irritatingly. Already annoyed, I stopped and intended to call out whoever was keen on slamming doors, but the hushed voices made me halt.

“She’s gone, bring out the weapons.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t wait for longer?”

“All the important ones are already here, I don’t want more collateral victims than necessary.”

“Fine, boss.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I remained rooted to my spot, not having a good feeling at all about this. Who were these people and why were they talking about weapons and victims? I thought this was a highly secured event, so these two must’ve been on the list or something. Otherwise, it made no sense to how they got in.

“That Song prick will pay tonight for fucking us over, Sehun, mark my words.”

“When do you want to attack?”

“When he gets up on the podium for his fucking speech.”

“And his secretary?”

My heart stilled as my eyebrows furrowed, and I made sure to stay out of view as I listened attentively, disregarding my red lipstick as I had started chewing on my bottom lip.

“It’s not that old hag anymore, pity, the new one is rather gorgeous, isn’t she?”

“Do you want me to take her hostage, sir?”

“Yeah, kill her if Song isn’t cooperating.”

I gasped and pressed my hands against my mouth, hoping I wasn’t loud, my heart beating fast as my hands started shaking. My ears rang for a second and I swore my head became hazy, but I had to focus. I had to stop this before anything would happen. I wasn’t dying, and nobody was getting hurt tonight.

I knew exactly who to tell.

With a racing heart and unstable legs, I hurried down the hallway, grateful for the red carpet as my heels made no sound. I ignored everyone as I very rudely pushed people out of my way, ignoring Chanyeol’s smile and questions as I snapped at him to get out of my way. Jongho was back and his eyebrows furrowed when he saw my disposition, but I had no time to speak to anyone but Song Mingi—Iron Man. I felt judging eyes on me as I tried to keep my breaths laboured, eyes frantically searching the crowd for my boss, my heart beating even faster. As his secretary, I have read through the schedule and I knew Mr. Song’s speech was soon, I really couldn’t waste even one more second. Taking a breath to calm my nerves and think clearly, my eyes fell towards the bar and that’s where I spotted my boss. Without thinking, I marched over to him—and the woman he was with—pushing people out of my way without apologizing, but I’m sure they’d understand if they knew what was soon to occur.

“Mr. Song!” I called out with an edge before even reaching my boss, but he didn’t react as he probably didn’t even hear me, too busy leaning towards the woman he was talking with as he touched her bare shoulder, trailing his fingers down her skin. My eyebrows furrowed as I came to a stop rather close to them, but neither seemed to notice me just yet, “Mr. Song.”

At the insistency in my tone, my boss cast a glance my way and I watched as his grin turned forced, “I’m busy Miss Jang, find me after the speech—”

“I cannot do that, sir, I need to speak to you in private.” When the woman gave me a dirty look, I felt my jaw clenching, “Right now.”

Mr. Song seemed just as displeased by my rude interruption as the lady—but she seemed to be more pressed about my presence as she leaned back against the bar and took me in from head to toe—but when I pushed my trembling hands behind my back and looked at my boss with pleading eyes, he seemed to realize something was wrong, so very wrong, “Please, Mr. Song, we need to talk.”

He cleared his throat and adjusted his sparkly blazer as he gave the woman a dashing smile, grabbing her hand to press a faint kiss against her knuckles, “Don’t get too bored in my absence, Miss Han, I’ll be right back.”

She chuckled and nodded her head, then threw me another dirty glare, and then Mr. Song was finally looking at me with questioning eyes and without thinking, I grabbed his wrist and took off, pulling him after myself urgently. I apologized to people this time as we walked through the crowd, headed for the exit, and Jongho tried to stop us when he noticed us, but Mr. Song raised his hand to stop him. I was too scared to walk towards the restrooms as I didn’t know whether the men were still there, so instead, I guided us towards the elevator.

“What is your problem?” Mr. Song’s tone was sharp as he snapped once I stopped walking and I whirled around, his eyes were narrowed as they sharply looked down at me.

“Someone wants to hurt you.” I rushed out and before Mr. Song could interrupt me, I continued, “I needed a moment so I went to the restroom and after leaving, I heard two men talking and they were saying they will make you pay and—they have weapons, Mr. Song, they—they said they’ll kill me if you don’t cooperate with them—”

“This isn’t a prank or a joke, right?” Mr. Song asked as he stepped closer, and I quickly shook my head, grip around his wrist tightening.

“I wouldn’t joke about something like this!” I hissed as Mr. Song’s eyebrows furrowed and worry coated his expression, “They’ll attack before your speech.”

Mr. Song averted his eyes as they seemed to cloud over with even more worry and stress and then suddenly, he stepped closer, eyes boring into mine, fierce and burning with determination, “Do you know their names?”

“One is called Sehun.” I barely finished my sentence when Mr. Song tsked and looked at the ceiling, looking irked as I finally released his wrist, a little embarrassed for having held onto it for so long. Mr. Song licked his lips and then glanced down at me, opening his mouth to speak when there was laughter behind us and chatter. I barely blinked when I felt myself shoved backwards as my back collided with the wall, Mr. Song’s tall form looming over me as he caged me in between himself and the wall. My eyes widened in surprise and out of reflex, I tried to push him away. I grabbed his waist and attempted to wrestle myself out of the hold, but Mr. Song only pushed his body against mine as the laughter and chatter came closer.

“What are you doing?!” I whisper-shouted as I looked up at him with a glare, blood boiling that he wasn’t taking the situation seriously again and was trying to do—whatever with me.

“I’m sorry, Miss Jang, but everyone saw us walk outside together and, well, I have a reputation to uphold, you know?” He smirked and lowered his head as I sputtered, trying to push him away once again, “I will let you go when they have walked past us, stop being so fussy.”

“I wouldn’t be so fussy if you weren’t pinning me against a wall against my own will, sir, kindly fuck off.” I snapped and Mr. Song dared to chuckle, “There’s lives on your hands and you’re here with me instead, play-pretending that something that isn’t happening is happening, putting everyone’s life at risk—”

“Relax a little, will you?” Mr. Song groaned and poked my forehead with a finger, making me flinch away, “They won’t attack until I give my speech, so, we’re good. I could just not say that speech the whole night and everyone would be okay—”

“No, because they want revenge and they will get it, no matter what.” The people enjoying themselves had almost reached us now, Mr. Song cradled my jaw with one hand and tilted my head up, making my heart race as I gulped, “What we all need right now is a superhero to save the day, sir, we need Iron Man.”

“I thought Spiderman was the one who saved you.” Mr. Song’s voice dropped low as his eyes searched my face and I felt breathless for a second, his cologne strong and wrapping around us, “But you’re asking for Iron Man now? Don’t you hate me? Wouldn’t you rather have someone else save the day—”

“I don’t give a fuck who saves the day, Mr. Song, as long as they stop those two men, alright?” My jaw clenched and my eyes threatened to flutter closed as Mr. Song’s head lowered and his lips came close to mine, “I know you’ve done good things before, just—I don’t want to die.”

“I know.” Mr. Song whispered and suddenly the people went quiet as they had spotted us, “I don’t want you to die either.”

Mr. Song and I stared into each other’s eyes as I let his words sink in, trying to desperately ignore my quickening heartbeat and the way my muscles seemed to tense when he smiled softly, the hand holding my jaw coming to play with the front strands of my hair before he pushed them behind my ear. The people in the hallway suddenly giggled and muttered something about Mr. Song clearly enjoying himself, and then they rushed off while looking at us curiously. I exhaled once they were gone from sight and thought Mr. Song would release me, but his eyebrows were furrowed and he looked conflicted. I raised my eyebrows at him and slightly tried to push him away again, but he barely took a step back.

“I need you to go back to the ballroom and tell Jongho that there’s been a change to our plans, then tell Chanyeol to announce that my speech will be soon starting, alright?” His tone was soft and almost worried as I nodded, finally able to relax as Mr. Song completely released me and stepped away, his warmth disappearing with him. I gulped and fixed my hair, pulling the strands back to frame my face once again, failing to notice that Mr. Song watched me closely with a small gulp, “You’re gorgeous tonight, Miss Jang.”

My head snapped up and I looked at Mr. Song with an alarmed expression, but with a nod of his head he was gone and I knew what I had to do next. So, heeding his words, I ran back to the ballroom and called Jongho aside to tell him there’s been a change to their plans, watching as realization crossed his features. He squared his shoulders as his expression became schooled and cold, different from the man I knew. He thanked me and told me to stay safe before he was gone too, and then I knew that Jongho also knew who Song Mingi was. Next, I told Chanyeol to gather everyone and announce that Mr. Song would be giving his speech soon, and then I walked closer to the exit, eyes surveying the crowd and trying to figure out who the two men were. Nobody looked suspicious, and I felt more and more nervous as time went by and the room filled up with even more people. Everyone was eager to see and hear my boss, and the room was filled with loud chatter as the music had stopped playing. I jumped when the doors were closed and Jongho stood in front of them, hands intertwined in front of him and eyes steely as he looked around, searching.

The lights flickered and everyone looked at each other, surprised and a little confused, and then the lights went out completely. I gasped as the chatter died down at once, my breaths quick as my muscles tensed, waiting for the worst. I could tell everyone thought this was a trick Mr. Song came up with, but I knew just in how great danger we were. But then, before I could panic more and even start crying, the lights were back on and nothing changed. The stage was still empty and nobody had moved from their spots, I felt confused as Jongho and I shared a glance. Perhaps it was a malfunction or something, but that was unexpected and almost impossible as the building had backup generators that kicked in as soon as the electricity went out. Then, somebody cleared their throat loudly.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.” People whirled around as we looked towards where the modified voice came from, a red iron costumed man stood behind the bar, polishing a glass. I could feel everyone’s confusion as they gaped at Iron Man, some even looked excited, and I caught Jongho’s amused smile before I looked back at Mr. Song, “I heard you’re waiting for Song Mingi’s speech, he’s a really good friend of mine, did you know that? We’re practically like twins, that’s how close we are.”

People laughed and some even got their phones out to snap pictures as Iron Man placed both the rag and glass onto the bar, resting his elbows on it as he leaned forward, chin in his palms, “Before I let my dear twin proceed with his speech, I heard there are people here who had planned a surprise for all of us. Kim Junmyeon, are you in the room with us?”

The crowd went silent again and looked around, my eyebrows furrowed as I tried to see if anyone reacted weirdly, but I couldn’t tell as there were many people in there. Iron Man chuckled and then stood up straight, trailing an iron finger against the counter, “I heard you brought your little brother too, Oh Sehun, so where are you two hiding?”

The lights went out and I yelped when I felt someone touch my wrist, bony fingers curling around my skin as I started yanking my arm free. Then, two spotlights suddenly snapped on and I whipped my head to my left frantically, ready to punch my captor and free myself and was rather glad to see Wooyoung. His eyes were big and he looked confused and borderline scared too, “I hate the dark, what the fuck is happening?”

“Are you drunk?” I whispered as I looked towards the spotlights, two men were illuminated. One stood in the middle of the crowd, which now had made way and stepped away as if sensing danger, and the other man was rather close to the exit, Jongho’s fierce glare was fixed onto the man.

“No, but I wish I was.” Wooyoung whispered, moving closer until his side was pressing into mine, “Are we going to die?”

“We shouldn’t,” Then I looked towards Iron Man who slowly walked around the bar, somehow managing to look menacing as the two men put on the spot looked towards each other, expressions tense and eyes glaring, “Do you trust Iron Man?”

“Fuck yes,” Wooyoung whispered as his grip tightened around my wrist, “remember that bad accident I was involved in? He’s the guy that saved me before the engine exploded, I owe him my life.”

I looked at Wooyoung with surprise as his eyes remained on Iron Man, slightly shaking but filled with admiration. Wooyoung rarely spoke of his accident, and even when he did, he never mentioned how he got out of the car, saying something about it being too traumatic to be spoken of. I gulped and grabbed his hand, squeezing it, “We’re not dying then.”

“We better not, I wanted to propose to Sooyoung next week.” But before I could react to Wooyoung’s words, everyone gasped as the two men drew guns, and my eyes widened as Wooyoung suddenly stepped in front of me, shielding me with his body. My heart swelled and I gripped the back of his shirt as I looked at Jongho who was moving towards the one that stood close to him.

“Fuck off, you arrogant prick!” The man in the middle of the crowd exclaimed, enraged as he pointed his gun towards my boss, “What’s the meaning of this? Where’s Song Mingi?!”

Iron Man chuckled and as he started walking towards the man, the crowd parted for him as everyone ducked down in fear, “He’s busy fucking his secretary assistant.”

“Fuck off.” I hissed as my glare bore into the side of Iron Man’s iron mask, and as if sensing my rage, the superhero’s head turned just briefly, but I knew Mr. Song was looking at me. Wooyoung cackled in front of me, as if the situation was actually funny, but didn’t question it despite it being about me. Did Wooyoung know too, perhaps, that our boss was the superhero?

“Well, Mr. Kim, now that the man you’re searching for isn’t here, won’t you lower your weapons?” Iron Man turned his head, “You too, Mr. Oh.”

A man yelped as the one closer to the door suddenly sprung forward and grabbed him, holding his gun against the man’s head, a seething expression on his face, “I’ll blow his brains out if you don’t get Song Mingi in here, right now.”

But my boss didn’t react as Jongho slowly crept towards the pair, ready to fight off the man holding the weapon. Everyone screamed as a warning shot went off, the man in the middle had his gun pointed towards the ceiling before he pointed it at Iron Man again. There was a tsk and then Iron Man’s hand was pointed towards the criminal, something opening as blue light simmered in its palm, just like when he was supposed to save me.

“You’re being rude and you’re also destroying the décor.” Iron Man snapped and then walked just a bit closer, “You have five seconds to lower your weapons and it won’t be too painful this way.”

“Fuck you.” The two men spat in unison, and suddenly, the ceiling opened up and large weapons descended, pointed straight at the criminals' heads. They froze as the crowd went dead silent once again, everyone scared to make the wrong move as if they’d detonate the weapons. Two red dots sat on the criminals' foreheads, and I saw the one in the middle of the crowd slightly falter, fire dying out in his eyes.

“Still want to fuck me?” Iron Man chuckled, lowering his arm, “I only have to press one button and then both of you will be dead.”

I gulped and felt thankful for having Wooyoung with me as his presence brought comfort despite his shaking frame and constant silent curses, eyes darting between Iron Man and Jongho as the driver/bodyguard almost reached the criminal. Wooyoung looked like he wanted to help, but I grabbed his arm and halted him into place, knowing that I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to him.

“Give us Song Mingi.

“No.”

And then the man in the crowd fired shots at Iron Man foolishly, emptying his ammunition as Jongho tackled the other one to the ground, getting on top of him to pin him down as the doors slammed open and police officers filled in to take the two attackers hostage. Iron Man casually grabbed the criminal’s gun and snapped it into two before he headbutted him, the man instantly falling to the ground unconscious. Wooyoung seemed to relax as people tried to flee the place, scared and confused, but the police asked everyone to remain calm as the threat had been neutralized. The Captain greeted Iron Man before they collected the unconscious man off the floor, the other one was trashing around and screaming as they had him handcuffed and held down by five officers and Jongho. Despite it being over, I found it hard to breathe as my body continued to shake, and I had to bite my bottom lip to stop myself from crying. The incident at the metro was too fresh in my mind, and I couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if I hadn’t eavesdropped on the two men. Wooyoung, sensing my panic, turned and pulled me into a warm embrace, rubbing my back up and down as he muttered reassuring words, cracking jokes that weren’t helping at the moment. I did appreciate them, though.

            Once the police took the two criminals and Iron Man mysteriously disappeared and Song Mingi showed up to do damage control, the crowd seemed to remain tense, and thus the party was postponed. Not everyone left, some decided to stay behind and drink and dance around, but as it neared midnight, few people remained. The event was ruined, but surprisingly, Mr. Song didn’t look too disappointed by it. After talking to the police and calming the crowd down and apologizing profusely, he sauntered over to the bar and downed a shot of tequila before beckoning Jongho over to drink some whiskey. The younger refused his offer but remained by his side, soon joined by a squeamish Wooyoung who was reluctant to leave me on my own. I assured him that I would be fine and needed the breather as I headed towards the huge windows to gaze outside. The city lights were pretty from the fifteenth floor, and I released a long sigh as I felt exhausted and ready to leave. I didn’t want to stay behind, but somehow both Wooyoung and Chanyeol managed to convince me as they offered me another glass of champagne to loosen up. Most of the employees stayed behind, eager to speak to their boss as it was a rare occasion if you didn’t work directly with him.

Distracted by the soft music and my own thoughts as I watched people walk down the street from time to time, I wasn’t aware that Mr. Song had approached me. He stood next to me, looking down at the city too, lips pursed as he spoke up quietly, “You did really well, Miss Jang, thank you.”

My eyes rounded as I turned my head to look at my boss, having never heard him thank anyone before so sincerely. It felt nice, it made my body jittery and my heart race a bit, “Would you like to dance?”

That surprised me as well as I froze, looking at my boss questioningly. Did he really want to share a dance with me? Although there weren’t many people who could see us, rumours spread quickly at our company—especially if they were about Song Mingi and his women.

“Uhm, alright,” I muttered and almost flinched when Mr. Song took my hand to walk us towards the dance floor. I gulped and stepped closer when we faced each other, Mr. Song’s free hand went to my lower back as he pressed our bodies together, and I gripped his shoulder as he, for some weird reason, intertwined our other hands. Our closeness felt a bit too much, too intimate, but I said nothing as it didn’t feel like he meant to do anything inappropriate. During this one week of working with him, I realized he sought out physical contact more often than not and stood rather close whenever he spoke to someone.

“Are you alright?” I chanced a glance at Mr. Song, but he wasn’t looking at me. I licked my lips and tried not to feel awkward as I nodded, suddenly reminded of when he comforted me while I didn’t know Iron Man’s identity.

“Yes, you—you did a good job tonight, sir, thank you.” My voice was small and I took a deep breath, feeling awfully vulnerable all of a sudden, “I wasn’t ready to be taken hostage again, I was scared.”

“I’ll keep you safe, Miss Jang, just don’t leave my sight.” Perhaps Mr. Song didn’t mean to say that as he gasped quietly right after before he cleared his throat and tapped my lower back, “Iron Man saves people too, you know? Not just Spiderman.”

“Are you really jealous over that?” I decided that I didn’t want us to be too vulnerable with each other, I still didn’t like my boss, so I tried to change the tone of the conversation. Mr. Song scoffed and moved us around the few dancing couples, he was rather good at dancing, fluid and gentle.

“I’m not the jealous type, besides, why would I be jealous of somebody like Yun—” The cut-off was way too abrupt and my ears perked up, eyes widening comically as I pulled my head back to look at Mr. Song’s face. He looked flabbergasted by his own words and I broke into giggles, averting my eyes when Mr. Song’s narrowed at me.

“I don’t think I was supposed to know the other superhero’s identity,” I said amused, and Mr. Song groaned as he gripped my hand just a bit tighter, as if warning me to stay silent. Well, at least now it made sense what I saw through the CCTV, that thing Yunho and Mr. Song were fixing had probably something to do with Spiderman’s web. So, it seems Jeong Yunho is Spiderman, what a small world.

“Just don’t tell anyone, specifically him, he’ll get excited and he’ll never shut up about himself—”

“Oh, sounds like he had a good mentor.” I mocked with a raise of my eyebrow and Mr. Song glared at me, “But I won’t tell anyone. Isn’t it even more dangerous for him, he’s still a teenager.”

“Do you worry about me as well, Miss Jang?”

“No.”

“That’s a pity, maybe you should.”

“You’re quite alright inside that iron suit.”

“Nothing is indestructible.”

“Then you’ll have to be more careful.”

“Yeah, I’ll have to be more careful now.” Our eyes bore into each other’s, and I felt my cheeks warm up as Mr. Song’s warm eyes were intense and curious, glinting with a seriousness that was rare to see on him. But it didn’t last for long as he looked away and twisted me around abruptly, making me gasp as I had to cling onto him before I lost my balance, “Mrs. Bae will be back in a week, think you can handle me for a little while longer?”

“I don’t think I can,” I snorted, realizing that I was almost hugging my boss with the arm that was supposed to only hold onto his shoulder, “But I don’t have a choice.”

“You’re smart,” Mr. Song chuckled and he lowered his head to be able to look me in the eyes directly, “And quite useful. You tried to blackmail me, you move fast, and stick your nose into everything, these aren’t necessarily good attributes, but they could be of use to me.”

My eyebrows furrowed as a wide smirk made its way onto Mr. Song’s lips, eyes twinkling with mischief, “What do you mean?”

“Are you trained in any martial arts?” I shook my head and Mr. Song pursed his lips, seemingly in thought, “Well, that’s easily changeable. Are you good with tech?”

I shook my head again and Mr. Song seemed disappointed, “Well, that’s not an issue, I have Yungi—”

“Who?” I asked confused as Mr. Song grinned.

“The artificial intelligence I designed to help me, he’s rather smart and a good friend when a man’s lonely.” That was perhaps impressive, but I didn’t say that to Mr. Song, he didn’t have to hear it from me too, “Well, anyways, I can find something useful for you to do.”

“Am I not useful already?” I asked confused, just slightly offended, “I help Mrs. Bae a lot, I’m her assistant after all, and by helping her, I help you too, sir.”

“Mingi.”

“What?”

“Stop calling me ‘sir’ and ‘Mr. Song’, it’s getting a bit repetitive.” I gave him a funny look as Mr. Song just raised his eyebrows challengingly.

“But you’re my boss, sir.”

“Am I though?” My heart stilled as Mr. Song suddenly dipped me down, our noses touching as he looked dashing under the dim lights, blazer sparkling and eyes twinkling.

“Are you firing me right now?” I asked alarmed, both arms going around his shoulders once I was in a standing position again. Mr. Song’s strong arms went around my waist as he swayed us slowly to the rhythm of the music the live band was playing.

“Yes and no,” Mr. Song—Mingi—hummed, and then his voice rumbled quietly next to my ear, “You’ll be working less for Song Mingi and more for Iron Man.”

My eyes widened as my heart raced now, skin tingling at the weird proposition, Mingi continued to explain, “Mrs. Bae will be retiring soon and I already have the person who will replace her, and surprisingly, I quite like you, Y/N. I want you to help me out—”

“But how?” I couldn’t find anything with which I would be more useful to Mingi. He chuckled, and I felt him play with the strands that had fallen out of my low bun.

“Iron Man needs a secretary too.”

“And if I refuse?” I knew I couldn’t, there were too many factors at stake right now.

“Jongho will kidnap you tonight.” That sounded terrifying, “I can’t let you go, you know too much. But I assume you already know that, right?”

“I do, Mingi, but if you’re subjecting me to more hours spent with you—which will be my own personal hell—I expect the paycheck to be higher too, you know?” Mingi giggled, the sound deep and surprising, and I found myself smiling.

“I’ll give you anything you want, Y/N, just stay by my side.” His voice was low and sincere and I gulped, feeling butterflies in my stomach.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Does Mrs. Bae know who you are?”

“She’s my godmother, of course, she knows.”

I chuckled, not having expected that, “That explains a lot, actually.”

“She’s a menace,” Mingi grumbled and I chuckled again.

“And so are you.” I watched another couple join the dance floor, and suddenly remembered something, “You said there was a dress code, so why is it that only the two of us are wearing black?”

“Because there’s a dress code.”

“And it’s gold, not black.”

“Exactly.”

“Mingi.”

“I’m the host, I can dress however I want.”

“And me?”

“Shut up, I love this song.”

The song, in fact, was just another classical piece that I was convinced Mingi hadn’t heard before in his life, but I remained silent and decided to bring up this subject again sometime soon. Just what was Iron Man’s secretary supposed to do?

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❀ complete the forms if you're interested! ^^

[dadsbongos]

Hi!!! Hope you’re doing well - I just want to take a moment to gush before I ask something, because I’ve really enjoyed your blog since finding it:

1: your writing is SO good I’ve reread your dunmesh fics several times now & just eat them up every reread. I’m stoked you also have funger content & can’t wait to eat those up

2: your blog’s aesthetic is just 🤌🤌 chefs kiss

3: your chilchuck’s wife fic - I’m convinced you are the chilchuck expert you characterized him so well (& the bit in the 3some fic when he choked the reader ? gulp)

OKAY on the with the actual question: I was wondering if you have any chil thoughts for the chilfuckers? Maybe some sfw / nsfw?

thank youuu :] i'm so glad to provide for the dungeon community with both meshi and funger <3 and also extra glad to make the chilchuck people proud, he's my fav lil man

i have so many chilthoughts bc i am a verified chilfucker i need that middle aged man

nsfw chilthoughts 

MEAN mean man

Likes to make his partners huff and whine, especially if they start haughty or mouthy

Facefucking, especially, for the mouthy ones. Wants to shut you up and make you drool

Lately the thought of Chilchuck fist-fucking a bigger race has been making me sweat… like yeah lil man, get up in that thang… I need to write it. Maybe some dwarven wench who keeps mocking Chil, or an ogre that feels its appropriate to pick n lift him up while working

Schrodinger’s breeder kink - sometimes its all he’s thinking about and sometimes the thought is entirely uninteresting

Touched on it a BIT in my body swap fic but i think Chil has a really sensitive neck and likes being held there (maybe not choked, but grabbed and stroked for sure)

Has a secret goon for younger partners but doesn’t like admitting to it, the taboo of it makes him all hot especially since he knows most other races can’t tell. Like a VERY poorly kept secret that could ruin his distinguished reputation

i also have chilchuck fic ideas that i haven’t fleshed out, but thought it’d be a shame if they sat in my ‘puter unseen:

Idea 1: Reader is a young elf, only about 72, and against all odds began dating Chilchuck. On his 30th birthday, it's brought to attention that you’ll be in your 90s when he dies. Leading to a spiral wherein you’re just trying to live in blissful ignorance to your races’ lifespan difference, and Chilchuck assumes you’re mature enough to handle his death, move on, and remember him fondly… lol… anyway. When Chilchuck dies you study how to maintain your own mana without a dungeon and practice minor healing spells until you can do a full revival, which fails on Chil, so you have to turn to dark magic. Basically rewinding his life until he’s the same age as when you two met and he’s upset you brought him back because YOU could get in major trouble and that’s when you confess you didn’t tell anyone when he died bc you knew you’d bring him back -- and you’re a nutcase that keeps doing this every time he dies despite knowing he wants to die peacefully. Omg loving someone so much you need them at all costs even ruining their perception of you… 

Idea 2: Chilchuck helping a 20-ish(+?) y/o half-foot negotiate a contract for themself and he thinks they’re soooooo cute so they get together, and he’s kinda nervous to bring them around cuz you’re crazy young compared to him. Not even a child to speak of GASP. The party doesn’t notice at ALL cuz they have no idea about anything about half-foot aging and customs -- but his daughters look at him sideways lmao

and this is literally not even a full fic idea but i have a note from my chilchuck master doc for you lol

im so normal about him

[yuri-is-online]

Hey, remember the soulmate au by tiyoin(?) I recently read your post abt idia and Leona reacting to yuu being their mates, but I wanna take it a step further since I saw idias line abt the family curse (this has yandere implications so if it's not your cup of tea please feel free to just ignore, nothing is outright mentioned tho)

What if yuu has a family curse similar to the aishi family in yandere simulator? (It's been years since I touched the game so if the lore changed I'm basing it off of 2018 ish lore, just with my own twist) basically yes, yuu CAN feel emotions, they're just muted and barely there. Given the right conditions (like falling in love or spending time with friends) and/or antidepressants they'll basically be like any other person, without them it's like a less severe version of the aishi women pre-falling in love

So, afab ppl born in yuus family, once falling in love, start losing their sanities and adopt yandere like behavior (stalking, increasing rage and jealousy, willingness to murder, etc) unfortunately this means they usually die young (20s or 30s) how quickly/young they die is based on their willpower (resisting the urges) and when/if they fall in love (so someone falling in love for the first time in their 40s and having insane willpower, caving in 20 years later in their 60s has more luck than a 16 year old falling in love and caving in almost immediately). Unfortunately everyone is a carrier, men carry the gene and can pass it to their daughters, but it only presents in the women/afab ppl, so transfems won't be affected but transmascs will.

What if yuu fell in love already (in their own world) and has just been doing a really REALLY good job at Resisting The Urges™️. Like, sometimes they slip up and cave in to anger or get ridiculously jealous, but they try their hardest to tamp down the feelings. Yuu has sworn off falling in love (again) and has given up their dream of having a big family bc of the curse, they're even distancing themselves from their object of affection in an attempt to "be normal again" at the cost of their own sanity.

So yuu gets transported to twst, and without their darling, they have the chance to be normal again, assuming they can get past the initial panic frenzy. Then the soul bond is revealed and they just go "nope. Not this shit again" and spouts cryptic messages about a family curse and swearing off love. I'm pretty sure most of the boys would feel a bit hurt by that lmao

This is mostly made for idia since his segment is what sparked the idea in the first place, but which characters from most to least likely do you think would try to pursue mc and figure out the truth to leave them alone and try to move on? I personally can't see someone like kalim giving up on both but I think the octatrio would try to look for the truth but be 50/50 on pursuing yuu or dropping them like a hot potato. Idia I think would try to relate to yuu and try to pursue them, but I think he'd probably be a bit put off once yuu starts dropping hints about the curse (he's a weeb so it won't take long for him and maybe Ortho to put 2+2 together and figure out the curse)

tiyon's soulmate au can be found here, their first post inspired some asks, which led to my own soulbound au the rules of which can be found here. Please support tiyon and interact with their soulmate au! They're a very creative blog and deserve the attention~ give them some reblogs!

so. uh. I got this ask when I first woke up and 1) very happy to hear from you Rose, always lovely to get a new ask and 2) yandere? sim? has lore? I did not think people actually played the game? help. i've fallen and misplaced my life alert. As a rule I don't really write for a Yuu who is just x character from y game/anime (it is in my rules) so while I was at work realizing I might be old I was trying to think of a way to do this that wasn't just yan sim (I wanted something properly gn) and I think I've got something? I am currently beating away the desire to info dump on you about the myth of Sigurd and Brunhilde (i could scream about that for hours oh god oh please i have written an actual au for that but efkjbekjrgbjrthnytrh) So here is the basic idea:

Yuu ran afoul of a witch in their world and was appropriately cursed. Given the myth I was inspired by I don't think Yuu did anything bad, but they still made the witch mad so they got cursed to lose all reason should they ever fall in love.

"You will be thine own destruction!" Cackles the witch and Yuu, who is actually normal unlike trey this person takes a deep breath and resigns themselves to researching a way to minimize the effects and maybe break it? They don't know they thought magic was fake until they thought they were just doing a favor for someone but turns out they pissed off Baba fucking Yaga.

They start to isolate themselves since they notice the curse starting to eat at them when they are around anyone the love; they consider going back to the witch and asking for further clarification but they can't seem to find them anywhere so they take some deep breaths and do their best to just be normal.

When they end up in Twisted Wonderland, and start feeling... weird. And it only gets worse when Crowley speculates that they might have been brought to Twisted Wonderland because they posses a soulbond.

And Yuu immediately freaks out because they don't want to kill anyone.

Now as for your question for who would try to pursue Yuu vs just leave them... well I don't really like writing un reciprocated feelings so I hesitate to say any of the cast would drop Yuu. In my au it isn't possible for soulbonds to not be reciprocated, and they are already sort of seen as a curse by mages so this... complication might not be normal but it isn't unexpected if that makes sense. Which would probably make Yuu swearing off love hurt even worse.

Kalim wouldn't want to abandon Yuu. Not ever, no matter how much of a danger they could be to him. Hell, he's willing to forgive people who are trying to poison him on the off chance they might regret it. But he is the heir of House Al-Asim, and I could see his dad paying someone to take Yuu out to keep his son safe. Something Jamil sees coming from a mile away and has to just keep quiet about. Something I can see Jamil feeling bad about, he might not like Kalim but you didn't ask for anything that happened to you. And yet the Asim's took your life from you anyway.

Have to disagree about the octatrio just a bit. Floyd would be into this. And so would Jade. But especially Floyd, oh hee hee ha ha his soul mate wants to kill him? Say less he is on his way to get his ass eat beat with an engagement ring in hand. Both he and Jade would be a little disappointed when the curse is broken and you aren't actively trying to kill him anymore... maybe you could try and poison him huh? Like old times?

I wrote 20 paper pages of soulbond au stuff for Azul so I will try to be brief here but... I don't think this situation would be one that made him try to break the bond. He has... complicated feelings about soulbonds already. If anything I could see him thinking he deserves this.

Now Idia. He's complicated. Pre-overblot he has given up on the concept of breaking his own curse, and I could see him feeling the same way about yours. Ortho on the other hand... even before he gets his soul he wants to help. After the overblot I can see Idia pursuing Yuu determined to find the truth and save them. Not that he wouldn't interact with them before that, he's a bit nihilistic so I can see him just making a bunch of jokes about the situation or promising to let Yuu kill him "after this next round." Or just straight up asking them to when he has to hit pity in one of his gachas. It's just cringe enough that it snaps Yuu out of the curse fog for long enough for the two of them to be normal around each other. And by normal I mean incredibly awkward

Anyway that's all I've got. Thank you for the ask ♡

[fairydollsteps]

Do you Love me?

Synopsis: “Please take me, please. I am all yours to tame and destroy. Ruin me if you have to for your own pleasure. Shackle me under your mercy. I do not care how much I will bleed. If it means you won’t look at other men but me. Just me only, my beloved.”

“For that, I will do anything for you.“

Just Aegon Targaryen II on his knees, being absolutely pathetic, begging and lovesick for you. 

Note/ Warnings: Fluff to Angst, Age gap (reader is 4 years older than Aegon), childhood love troupe ish, Aegon’s major insecurities and his shitty childhood. Mommy issues lmao. unrequited love, Aegon sad boy hour he is depressed, he is obsessed in love for reader. reader is kinda mean, she don’t entirely love aegon like how aegon loves her. Very OOC Aegon, he is actually a sweet person if only alicent is nicer or if otto die earlier 

let’s just say aemond didn’t kill lucerys to keep this peaceful

Author’s note: hiiii i am finally alive and motivated to write again! so in this fic is just aegon suffering lmao. idk i like to see him in his absolutely worst in his already horrendous life. is just nice to see him pathetic lmao. and also too many fic of reader crying because of aegon so why not the roles switched instead? Also you are the princess of a royal family like the Hightower family/house. I made it up so you are House Glairsviw. Also everything is messy so it might suck, pls bear with me. Anyway, enjoy!

“Do you love me, Y/N?”

Aegon Targaryen II, heir to the Iron Throne, now the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms stands before you. You, in your finest gown simply stared at him in silence. Both of you are facing at each other at the castle garden, away from the booming celebration of Aegon’s coronation.Of course you know how much Aegon adores you with his whole heart. You know. You know from the beginning. The puppy love didn’t fade away as you though from childhood. 

You remember when 7-year-old Aegon would always follow you around like a puppy in Dragonstone. Your house is friendly and in good terms with House Targaryen, benefitting each houses with your house’s fortune and their power. Therefore, you and your family always visit the Targaryens and stayed there. This delighted young Aegon as he gets to be with you often.

Your impeccable beauty allures him even to this day, your kind act is what fuels his love for you. You are older than him, so you have the urges and the responsibility to care for this little kid. As you two grow up together, you will always see him as a little boy who need bandages when he scrap his knee. But to Aegon, you are an angel to his eyes.

His life is already miserable enough even at a young age, his mother berating and his father ignoring his existence. His damn grandfather, Otto Hightower is a nightmare that won’t give him a break, pressuring and reminding him he is to be the future king of Westeros. So is his mother who make sure he won’t forget. Just standing with them suffocates him. So, to meet you is a blessing in disguise.

 With you, he is able breathe freely. With you, he smiles with glee to know that someone is waiting for him with biscuits and tea after his sword training. With you, he sleeps peacefully after you read him his favorite storybook. With you, he allow himself to cry his heart out and find comfort in your arms after a hellish hours of his mother’s lambast. With you, he is able to find meaning and hope in his dejecting life. 

You also remember when he gives you a bouquet of your favorite flowers on your birthday. Chrysanthemum. Then, he declares with a boast that he want to marry you, right here and right now. He was 12 years old and you were 16 at that time. You simply giggled softly, amused at his little puppy love. 

“Marry you? Maybe when you are taller than me and strong enough to carry me, I will marry you,” you said as a joke, not taking Aegon’s proposal seriously. You kissed his forehead as a gratitude for his gift. Is a completely platonic and normal thing between you and Aegon when he did something nice and pleasing for you. But is more than ‘normal’ for Aegon.

This marriage proposal thing from Aegon is not a one time thing. Throughout your childhood and your adolescents years,  Aegon has propose to you more than you count. “I will marry Y/N if I find a pretty flower for her,” Aegon when he was 8 years old. “Will you marry me if I beat my brother in a sword match?” Aegon no. “ Y/N, can I marry you when the sun rise?” Oh Aegon, you silly.

You will always find excuses and divert his proposal playfully. Saying no will break his poor heart. This is just a temporary fantasies of his and a puppy love that will surely dissolve when he is older, right?

Right?

Oh dear, if only you know how wrong you are. Aegon is utterly consumed with desire for you. And you know it. You know he loves you but you don’t know how long he will. And he still loves you in his adulthood.  The sight befall you further verify your certainty. Aegon, regal with his kingly attire except without his crown and robes, under the moonlight, holding a single pink chrysanthemum. He still remembers after all these years.

“Do you love me?” he asked.

You want to let out a laugh but stay composed. If only he knew, then maybe his poor heart won’t be broken again.

“Really Aegon? Is that what you have to say after all these years?” you said heartily. You drop all your formalities to the king. You know he wouldn't care. Aegon frowns, knowing your tricks. Yet, he still holds a soft and longing gaze at you. 

Yes, you have have not seen each other for 6 years. You simply stop seeing Aegon for 6 years. Your house still visit the House Targaryen but is rarely. But you were nowhere at sight when your family arrived. 

“I just got busy, Aegon. Very busy. The duty of the head of my house at a young age is no easy task ever since my father is gravely sick. I hope you understand,” you said after looking at his face of whys, ignoring his previous propose. 

“My deepest condolences,” he said apologetically, gently rubbing the stem of the chrysanthemum “ Thank you. My house is doing well under my command,”

There’s a beat of  awkward silence. After 6 years, so many things have changed. You are the mighty head of your house. Aegon finally king to the Iron Throne. “You promised me that we will send each other letters before you left,” Aegon said, breaking the silence. “We did,” 

“Only for a few months. Your letters become lesser and lesser as days passed. I know that you are busy but is like you vanish and just-,” Aegon clenched his jaws before he finish. Not wanting to accept what he thought it is.

“-is like you just left and abandoned me in the dark,”

The silence returns in the garden and the two silhouettes standing before each other under tension. Every second of stillness kills Aegon. Say something Y/n. Reassure him and his doubts just like you did when you were young. Hug him like in the past. Y/N please. Aegon silently beg.

But you just stand there, blank-faced and keeping the distance between yourself and Aegon. You didn’t come to him or softly smile at him like before. You just stood where you are and watch Aegon slowly descend to his doubts. “Y/N, you couldn’t-I mean, Why? Why did you stop? I know you are busy but 6 years without a single letter? Not even once?” he asks desperately. 

“I just don’t find the need for you,” you said without a hesitant. “I no longer find you as my top priority, so I just stop,” Aegon stares at you wide-eyed. There’s no point lying to him. He should know already but is in denial. He is still clinging on the past and expecting the oh so sweet Y/N to return to the past. 

Aegon looks like he can’t stop spiraling like mad but quickly compose himself with a solution. “If is like that then, we can reconnect our connection like before with our fathers. Then, we can meet up meet up and-,” “That won’t do, Aegon,” you cut him off cruelly. Now he is trying to rebuild everything with some political bullshits. You should be sent to the guillotine for cutting the king but he lets you.

“Aegon, you have other more and capable houses and I have my own other houses that will help and benefits me. I do no need your help,” you said, cold-heartly. You don’t even put to the effort to  Oh Aegon, you are still a fool even as an adult.

What you just say slowly made a tear of his heart. What you just implied is that you don’t need him, or if you even want him. Aegon is desperate. The more you reject him, the more desperate and hurt he is. Aegon can’t accept it. He can’t lose you. You are the only good thing in his life. And his only good thing is turning its back on him. 

Do you really-? Are you really going to just-? Like this? Y/N please no. Don’t. Don’t do this to me. Aegon beg through his troubled, sorrowed eyes as he walk towards you hastily.

He grabs your hand with his unoccupied hand, urgently but weakly, forcing you too look at him in the eyes. There is so many unspoken words through his eyes. You could see his stress, his denial and his passionate love for you. All his love for you that is meant to be crushed by you. 

Aegon silently pray to find at least a single look of adoration meant for him from you. He pray to know that you are just denying and hesitant to love him. A hope that what you just say is just a lie. But he find nothing. Just nothing. There is no love and the look of adoration. You just look at him uncaring. Like he is a nobody.

You are no longer the girl he knew from the past. The girl he knew always smile at him warmly and treat with affections he never have. 

“Do you love me?” Aegon asks. A question that you always dodge and pissing Aegon off. You could feel his eyes on you, begging to answer it and stop treating him like some kind of toy. You could feel his breath touching your cheeks softly. His lips quivering from the tension and the close contact.

Aegon passed the chrysanthemum to your hand and hold it with both of hand. As if is a way to convince you to change your mind with your favorite flower. But you have already decided you decision. As it feels like eternity, you finally answer.

“No,”

.....

The silence was deafening. Aegon couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t registered what you just say. You could feel his hands on you slightly shaking.

“No?”

“I’m sorry, Aegon. I don’t love you how you love me. I’m sorry. I just feel nothing for you,” 

“Oh,”

“Oh,”

Before you could slip away from his grasp, Aegon stop you. “Aegon please-” “Why, Y/N?” “Aegon please you have to understand-,” “No please don’t do this to me Y/N. I can’t just lose you like this. Please don’t leave me,”. Now he is able to break down. His heart is crushing at every second with you. His grip on you become tight but not enough to hurt you He can’t do something to chase you away even though you are already leaving her.

Aegon is holding your hand tightly, begging you to stay with him. He can’t breathe properly with the panic and heartbreak in his chest. He could feel his eyes becoming wet but force himself to hold it. Oh fuck, he feels so damn embarrassed for being so pathetic to you but he can’t stop the hurt. Because it actually fucking hurts so bad that he feels like his heart is bleeding.

Is like the universe is against him and could do nothing about it. The universe decided to have mercy on him for having a horrible home by giving him a girl that could care and love him. And for the first time in live, he was happy. Then suddenly, the universe took her away and isolate him from her for 6 years. Then when he finally meet her, she no longer love and treat him like a ghost. 

What kind of a fucked up fate he was given?

“Aegon, please let me go,” “No, I can’t Y/N. I love you, I am utterly devoted to you please!” Aegon cried out with no shame. 

“Please take me, please. I am all yours to tame and destroy. Ruin me if you have to for your own pleasure. Shackle me under your mercy. I do not care how much I will bleed. If it means you won’t look at other men but me. Just me only, my beloved. I have never felt this devoted to any women but you. You are the only person I want to admired at and dance with at the ballroom,” 

“Aegon...”

“We could get married, I could make you Queen of the Seven Kingdoms! I could make you my queen. I will get the finest dresses and the most brilliant jewelry just for you. I will have the whole world on their knees for you if I have to. So do I,”

Aegon declares with his whole heart. Some drops of tears manage to fell. His cheek flushed and he is still holding your hand with the pink chrysanthemum. He is a mess. He knows he look stupid and ridiculous but he is fighting every chance, hoping and praying to Gods that you change your mind and choose to grow old with him.

His violet orbs continue to violent beg for your heart to own him. “Please, Y/N. I belong to you. My heart is full of you. Everything is better with you. Everything has been better since you,” 

 He should have knows better. He should be mad at himself for falling so deep that could his inevitable heartbreak. Your silence and your pity look is enough to tell but he is still trying and holding the end of the string of hope.

[garfunklefield]

Eat my food!

Sanji/Zoro Roronoa Warnings: ambiguously pre-time skip, kind of incoherent, therapist Luffy, POV Sanji, abrupt-ish ending, drabble kind of, not beta read we die like MEN Word count: 1453 DESC: Sanji comes to a horrible realization that Zoro has a crush on him

I'm actually getting to requests sorry it's been months LMAO

NOTES: This is not good bc I just got off of anesthesia so I'm like kind of loopy but I've been wanting to write something like this for awhile

Sanji was a cook. Ever since he was young he had longed to be in the kitchen, experimenting with flavors and creating his own original dishes. He was a natural at it too. It wasn’t very often someone found their calling so early in life and stuck with it, growing better each day. Sanji was also a hopeless romantic. It was obvious to anyone he’d met that his heart was bigger than himself and ever-growing. He longed to love someone as much as they’d love him. And he longed to cook for them. It was strange, he thought, wanting someone who liked his meals, but it was never a defining feature in his attraction. 

He just wanted to show someone something he had made, a Sanji original, and have their eyes light up. 

The cook was never particular about the gender of the person he fell for. Sometimes it was women who captivated him, other times men. But he never had a set preference. Each person was different in their personality and their appearance. It was their heart that captivated him. It was their heart he always fell for.

But like everything, nothing lasted. They were never interested in his passion of cooking or really him. Most of the guys just wanted a one-night stand and most of the girls wanted something too stifling. No one was right. No one fit like a glove on his hand, the hands he swore to protect. 

That was until he met those damn pirates. Being their cook was fine, it was just any regular job. Of course, he wouldn’t admit this, but he was severely emotionally attached to that group. He adapted each dish to every one of their flavor palettes and preferences, ensuring they’d like it from the moment they took their first bite. They all enjoyed his meals like any normal person would, smiling politely and eating it like a regular human being. All but one. 

Zoro. That damned man. From the moment Sanji met him he knew that guy would be a pain in his ass. He had no decorum! Ruining the plate within seconds as he scarfed it down without a care for the flavor. He always made some comment, like an afterthought, like, “Nice meal” as a way of saying thanks. Nothing like Robin, who was ever so polite in describing why she liked the dish. Or Chopper, who would shout about how good it was. That was acceptable! But Zoro? Oh, it made his blood boil.

But he had to admit, he cleaned off his plate every single time, leaving no crumbs, and concerningly no bones behind.

It was a colder Tuesday night, Sanji was alone in the kitchen cleaning off the scraps from everyone's plate when he got to Zoro’s. Clean as always. In a way, the way he infuriatingly gobbled down his food was endearing. It meant he was doing a good job. And it made the cook feel a bit better about himself. It wasn’t like an ego boost but more self-assurance that he was truly needed. The fact everyone finished their portions meant more to him than he’d care to admit.

Zoro wasn’t always bad. He always offered to help clean up after dinner, cleaning the dishes and scrubbing the table. And he always offered to keep watch with the cook when it was his turn. He was always there whenever Sanji was trying to be alone, annoyingly picking up a conversation that wouldn’t seem to end. 

If Sanji didn’t know any better he’d say Zoro had a .. crush on … him.

The plate he was holding slipped from his grasp and shattered on the floor beneath his feet, causing him to let out a gasp. 

No, no, no, no. 

That stupid plant can’t have a crush on me! There was no way! He wasn’t gay! Well, he doesn’t look gay. I mean you can’t- He… he couldn’t. 

He swallowed and his eyes darted to the door that opened, a rubbery-headed boy's head peeking through to ask, “You okay in here?” Luffy looked at his friend's dumbfounded expression then the plate broken on the floor, a new look donning on his face. He stepped inside, closing the door with his heel behind him. He walked up to the cook and took the cigarette from his mouth, putting it between his lips and [poorly] inhaling the smoke. 

Luffy let out a strangled cough and then cleared his throat, “Talk to me, bud.”

Sanji just stared at him, blinking slowly, “What.”

“Talk to me. What’s wrong Maine Amy?” He tried to take another puff from the cigarette but the cook took it from him and promptly threw it in the garbage. 

“It’s mon ami,” he spoke through gritted teeth, an annoyed expression crossing his face. This guy couldn’t be serious. Why would he confide in Luffy of all people his awful revelation? Or the fact it was making him feel butterflies? Oh, he could just throw up right now.

“Sure,” he patted his shoulder and knelt down to pick up the broken pieces, “You sure broke this, huh! Now what’s wrong? You can tell ole Luff!” Sanji bent down as well, assessing the dead plate before him. And it was a good one too. He knew exactly where he had gotten it from. Shame it was gone so soon.

“I don’t think you’re the best person to talk to this about,” he sighed, speaking honestly. His captain wasn’t known to be very … good at problem-solving when it came to the emotional stuff. And god forbid he went and told Zoro his hypothesis. 

“Why not?” He frowned, before widening his eyes, “Oh is this about Zoro’s crush on you? Glad you figured it out!” He let out an annoyingly chipper giggle, “It was so obvious.”

“It was not obvious! I… dammit,” a frown pulled at his lips and he looked down at the plate in his hand, “Did he tell you or is this another educated guess of yours?” His eyes met with Luffy’s who was staring at him with his regular gaze, stupid and curious. 

“Well, he told Chopper, who told Usopp, who told Robin and Franky, who told Nami, who told me,” he pressed his lips together, “So technically, yeah, I guess he did tell me!” 

The entire crew knew, except the one it was about. And no one told him? Was he supposed to know about this? Was he supposed to do anything? Was Zoro waiting until Sanji figured it out so he could confront him? Like that would happen now. 

“So everyone knows,” he spoke slowly. 

“Yep!”

He leaned back and blinked a few times, “So does Zoro think I know?”

“Yep!” 

“Why??” He groaned, putting his head in his hands and throwing his head back, “I don’t like him. I hope you know that,” he sat up straight and grabbed his friend's shoulders, “It’s important to me that you know that.”

Luffy nodded as he let himself get shaken a bit by the frantic cook, “Sure, Sanji! Whatever you need to tell yourself!”

“It’s true!” 

“Uh-huh!” He nodded, “Whatever you say!”

“I do say! I am saying! I don’t like that stupid swordsman!” 

And speak of the fucking devil, that same swordsman walked in the door, peering his head in and smiling once he saw Sanji. A smile that would now be tainted with the fact it was romantic. He shuddered, his heart speeding up a bit. Out of anxiety, not out of reciprocation or anything. 

The two of them exchanged intense eye contact, the blonde gripping Luffy’s shoulders tight before uttering, “Get out.”

“Whuh?” Zoro narrowed his eyes and raised his eyebrows. 

“GET OUT!” He shouted, pointing one finger at him and narrowing his eye. 

“But-”

“Out!” 

“Sake-”

“OUT!”

Zoro frowned and rolled his eyes before exiting. Luffy let out a laugh, “Wow you definitely don’t like him!” 

Sanji turned his head to the captain, a look of anger and pure annoyance riddled in his features, “You too.”

“But Sa-a-anij!” Luffy groaned, leaning back, “We were having fun!” 

“OUT!” 

Now he had time to be alone with his thoughts. Everyone knew that moss-headed idiot liked him, or at least everyone thought he did. And Zoro was under the impression Sanji knew too. Who even put that idea in his head? As he swept up the broken plate and lit up a new cigarette he had to confront the obvious question he had been ignoring while Luffy pestered him: did he feel the same?

Well, Zoro had a lot of good qualities aside from being a total dumbass. He cared with a passion and drank with a passion. And he… ate all of Sanji’s food. 

[gourmetjello]

könig x fem!reader : over-apologizer

i have no idea how to use tumblr. it’s my first time using it but i think i’m trying it out lol also lowercase warning (i’m sorry!) , i’m used to writing in 3rd person pov so that’s what i’m going to do for now plus english isn’t my first language so bear with me for now lmao

könig’s about 17 in this fic and it’s not really a fluff nor angst or smut or anything like that, just a little romance-ish story.

—

the cold, chilly air felt heavy on top of the many bunk beds that were scattered around the messy dorm room of about 30 young austrian and half german men. there was one singular wooden nightstand in one of the corners of the room, the drawers wide open and filled with empty glasses of all the different kinds of dirt cheap alcoholic beverages you could think of. it was the first day of many newcomers and many of them were cocky enough to bring some drinks to celebrate their first night here.

one bottle was leaking inside the drawer as someone probably failed to put the lid back on perfectly, the rough, clear liquid leaking in small droplets. a part of the wooden surface was soaked with this disgusting liquid that smelled like straight up acetone. the faint scent of it obviously spread to the entirety of the whole room, however the boys felt comfortable even in an odor like this — they were mostly teenagers, after all.

a boy’s head was right next to the nightstand as his bed was the closest to the corner, his forehead was almost touching the wall of the piece of furniture that smelled oh so bad. he was the only one that was wide awake in this whole room full of snoring soon to be soliders. he silently breathed the smell in again, not knowing what to do with the fact that he was exhaling something that stung his nose so much — he wanted to yank the drawer out and just simply throw it away, but then he would have to pay for the harm the caused and he obviously had no money, just like everyone else here.

he turned and tossed around in the bed as his legs were hanging off of it, and as uncomfortable it seemed he totally accepted it. it’s not like he could magically make himself any shorter. he leaned down to grab the small plastic shot glass that was next to his bed on the floor — his hand blindly wandered around, fingers finally bumping into the thin material of the tiny cup. he slowly lifted it up, not too surprised to realize that it still had something inside it. the young man sat up in his bed, his head softly bumping into the bottom of the mattress above his bad. he totally forgot that he was in a bunk bed. he wasn’t used to this.

rustling of the bedsheets could be heard as he muttered a few curse words under his breath and decided to just go bottoms up with whatever was in that tiny cup. a little piece of yesterday lingered in his body now, at least.

something, that nobody was really expecting came — a sharp sound filled the room, waking everyone up from their coma-like, desperate and drunken sleep. a morning call echoed through the entire dorm, a tall and old-ish looking man in a full camouflage outfit basically breaking their door in as the doorknob made a sound that totally felt like it broke.

“good morning men!”

‘holy shit. it really is happening, our first day’ — thought literally nobody in this cold room. the solider could obviously smell the horrible odor in the room but decided to ignore it as they would have to learn how to get up this early, hungover or not.

as the tall young man was already awake, it didn’t take too long for him to actually get out of bed first. he expected a gentle praise or something at least for listening to the command of the man in the doorway, but the guy seemed totally uninterested in whatever was going on in the room. he just cared about waking up these boys and finally showing them what they signed up for and showing them no mercy. people in the military apparently just had an odd thing for breaking young soliders.

the bread they got for breakfast almost fell out of their mouths as the men from their room were basically barely functioning on one percent. their eyes were barely open as the small digital clock in the cafeteria read 6:12 am. they could barely touch the cup of milk in front of them, almost spilling it all over themselves while trying to drink it.

there was just one guy that sat alone at a desk, all by themselves. he didn’t really choose to be alone, he obviously wasn’t that big of a freak, but all the other tables were already filled and there was no space left for him. he didn’t really care about it too much, he was used to being alone — it was exactly why he joined the military. he almost expected this to happen and if he was going to be neglected by people like this his whole life, then he might as well just try to get rid of them somehow. as far as he knew, you could legally be a cold-blooded killer in the military, right? especially as a sniper.

his eyes scanned the others in the cafeteria, looking over to the females. they were in their camouflage-print jackets too. he was obviously a teenage boy so he tried to find someone to stare at, someone who looked like a dream come true, but fuck, he couldn’t even see who had big breasts as the loose uniform concealed their body shape perfectly.

while his eyes were still desperately scanning the girls in the area, he didn’t even notice that someone sat down next to him with a plastic plate in their hands. it was yet another man. he reached out and tapped the left shoulder of the guy that he just wanted to sit down next to, grabbing her from his spiraling thoughts.

“hey, would you mind if i sit here?” the guy asked. he had short curly hair and a face full of seemingly cystic acne. definitely a face that would scare off people, especially girls.

he totally caught him off guard, the taller boy flinching a little in surprise — “uh, no, it’s fine.”

“yeah. thanks, man. i wanted to sit here because, um, look.” the man spoke as he pointed towards the little velcro strip on his chest that was on the camouflage uniform. “we’ve got the same last name. you’re a könig too! quite common, eh?”

“that’s cool.”

“we have to friends after this, dude!”

“yeah.”

“and.. okay, look at that girl over there..” the guy pointed at a girl that seemed a little like she couldn’t find her place in this huge cafeteria filled with people in the exact same clothes. what a maze to get lost in, he couldn’t even blame her for that. “we used to go to the same school and gosh.. it’s a shame that she’s the only person that i know for now. i wish i knew someone cooler instead.”

könig seemed totally uninterested but the person sitting next to him wouldn’t shut up about whatever he was blabbering about. he barely even paid attention to his speech. “she’s so lame. she never talks, like, bro, how can you go a day without talking? so weird, am i right?”

“mhm.”

they didn’t have too much time for breakfast nor basically anything else they wanted to do. the day went by rather quickly and when they finally returned to the dormitory there was basically nothing left from their hungover ego they still had earlier. throughout their first day, they were made fun of, humiliated and stepped on, as expected. some people were desperately writing letters to their loving mothers, saying they wanted to give up on the whole ‘save your country’ and ‘keep our families safe’ image and they wanted to go home.

könig was laying in his bed as he couldn’t sit up comfortably and he was just thinking about what to do now. the room was silent and just filled with occasional groans of people that were in pain. sore muscles were basically something to be considered everyday things here, you’ll learn to live with them eventually. he sighed and gently reached into the only backpack he brought with himself here. he found it unnecessary to pack too many clothes as they were going to get uniforms anyways. the only things he needed were underwear.

his fingers looked around the bottom of the backpack for a few seconds until he finally found what he was looking for. he took it out with unreasonably shaky hands — it was a single cigarette he had rolled for himsef back on the platform of the railway station when he waited for the train to come. it was the only one he had left as he ran out of filters to put into the little stick that was a such a guilty pleasure of his. he knew that they probably wouldn’t care if he started smoking it in the room, but he already wanted to just feel something, some kind of danger.

he joined the military to feel action and thrill, to shoot people without being punished for it and not to be hungover all the time and to judge others in the cafeteria (however he loved trying to peek at the girls). he gently stepped off his bed, walking over to the dark and unpolished window they had in the room. he firstly tried to just open it, he examined it and he simply looked like someone who was trying to open it to get a mouthful of fresh air. however, when the tall man gently folded himself in a way that he could climb out on the window, many people immediately turned their heads towards him.

könig was lucky that they were on the floor level. he landed in a small bush that was basically nothing for him, climbing out of it with ease.

his heart was beating in his throat when he noticed someone a few meters away from him. they were in a camouflage outfit, very clearly in the uniform. the person he saw was crouching down, closely next to the wall. when he saw how the figure seemed feminine he immediately relaxed — there’s no way anyone from the staff would be a woman, right?

the shadow flinched once she heard the sounds of the bush moving, and when her eyes ran over the dark figure of a person, her body immediately began shaking. ‘fuck, fuck, fuck. i’m getting kicked out. i’m getting kicked out’ - was the only thing she could think about as she quickly pushed away whatever she was doing with her trembling and cold fingers. tobacco and a few little pieces of paper spilled all over the ground under them, getting all dirty and muddy.

the tall man towered over her as he stepped closer. all she could see was this huge shadow next to her crouching form, he could easily just step on her. he seemed like he could break her spine with just a snap of his fingers and maybe that was the initial source of her fear — she even forgot how scared she was of someone from the staff being the man in front of her. at that point, she was just begging for the gods she barely believed in to let her keep her life. she was silently pleading in her mind.

“gosh, you wasted it all.”

she heard the deep voice and she knew it was over for her. she thought she was going to throw up all over the place because of how shaky and nervous she was. and this was only her first day in the military!

“you roll it too? can’t afford packs?” he quickly raised his hand, the clumsily rolled cigarette hanging between his index and middle finger.

this couldn’t be staff.. right?

“it’s not mine! it’s not mine. it’s not-“ she spoke desperately. her voice was weak and shaky.

“then why would you be doing it, hm?”

she hesitated for a few seconds before thinking of an answer. she already embarrassed herself too much, there was no backing out now. absolutely no backing out, she was past the point of no return, or so she thought. he still stood there, above her and staring down.

“it’s for, um.. someone else. it’s for someone else. könig. it’s for könig.” she tried to stop stuttering so it wouldn’t be so awkward and embarrassing for her. beinh caught was already uncomfortable enough, but what kind of monster was standing in front of her?

“könig?”

“yeah. he’s um.. he came here yesterday. just like me. and he’s.. like, short, curly hair and- and, uh..”

“yeah, stand up. stand up, come on.”

“i don’t-“

“stand the fuck up already.”

the girl shakily stood up, her head perfectly looking into the chest area of the man in front of her. the velcro strip above his heart read an oddly familiar name — könig. she was stunned for a second, not knowing what to say and she accidentally choked on the air she was just gasping after. “w-what did you-“

“don’t act like he’s the only person with the last name könig. you’re being stupid. what is a woman even doing in the military? i get it, that dickface is trying to prove it to everyone that he’s the shit, but come on? you? are you here to do every little thing he desires or what?”

her eyes widened as the tall man in front of her mentioned her doing everything for that jerk. she tried to think of a way to defend myself. who even was this man? she couldn’t see his face. too tall. and it was too dark outside.

“i’m sorry, i-“

“what?”

“i’m sorry, i really am, just..”

“why would you be sorry?”

“i, um..”

könig raised an eyebrow as his lips gently curled into a small smile. she was the first person he actually talked to in the military. he couldn’t believe that the first person he would get into a conversation with (or at least something like that..?) was the person that that fucker in the cafeteria was talking about. the girl that’s apparently such a lame person because she doesn’t talk too much. hm.

“yeah. see. you don’t even have anything to be sorry for, i just asked you a question and you’d rather apologize than give me an answer. cunt behavior.”

“i’m-“

“don’t you dare say that again.”

“o-okay. i just.. i’m sorry for me being so-“

and just like that, könig slightly leaned down and pressed his lips against hers in an instant.

it all happened in the span of a few moments. he immediately felt how she was licking her lips in the cold as a reaction to the stress she suddenly got into, since he could taste the saliva on her chapped and shaky lips. his body was warm and hers was cold, just like ice. he could have even placed a bet that her lips were purple, from the fear and the chilly air outside.

he was a little bold for someone who had never kissed anyone before — but he needed to make her shut up somehow. he had enough of her apologizing so much.

—

eek! that’s my first oneshot ever here on tumblr !! i really really hope you liked it and please let me know somehow if i did something wrong. no idea how to use this app. and if you have any ideas on what i should write about then please let me know ! or, well, if there is a way to let me know ?

also please don’t reupload or steal or anything (is that a thing here?)

good night!

[spider-stark]

With Oscar Tully looking that young though…if we’re gonna have him and Benji fight side by side, Kieran is def gonna look older-ish? (And they’re supposed to be around the same age right)

Idk I still want him as my Bloody Ben 😭

see, this is one of the major reasons why I feel like it just wouldn't really work out? like, yes--it is common to have older actors play younger characters! but the boy they casted for Oscar is very obviously young, so I have to agree with you that Kieran would definitely look older beside him.

as it stands, I assume that Oscar and Benji will be the same age (or very close) in the show---and that's if we ever actually see Benjicot in the show. since Willem is acting as regent until Benji comes of age, I wouldn't be surprised if they just kinda toss the Bloody Ben story, y'know?

fingers crossed they won't and they're just waiting to introduce him for whatever reason, but you just never know with HBO. either way, I'd ignore everything they've done so far if they make Kieran Benjicot lmao

[hoshiumi78]

I’m gonna make a little happy “rant” here about Lloyd from Ninjago and just the cartoon in general.

I’ve always liked Lloyd. Ever since I was a kid, he was the one who I favorited over the others. Sure, Kai is awesome, Cole is super inspiring, Nya is an absolute baddie, Jay is funny, Zane is real cool, Pixal is an amazing robot girlfriend and samurai, Skylor is such a cool and strong female character to look up to, and etc. (Dareth, Nelson, Sensei Wu, Garmadon, Morro, Cyrus Borg…)

And yeah, a lot of people “like Lloyd” because he’s the “Green Ninja” or he’s “super cool”, but for me… that’s not it (I mean, a bit of it is, hehe. But not all of it). And as I become older in my teenage years, I’ve honestly been thinking about it a lot. I’ve been thinking about why I like this Lego character so much, and why this is the only “children’s” show I actually fan over where I can watch the show over and over throughout the years, write fanfics for hours on it, and spend my money on the sets and merch…

***Now I should probably say before I start, I’m not some crazy obsessive fan lmao. I just really like this character and show, and I want to shine some light on Lloyd (differently than he already receives, of course lol).***

Lloyd has been through a lot, yet he still came out as stable as he is (at least as much as the cartoon shows to the audience). One thing about Ninjago I like is how they make the characters realistic. I didn’t particularly realize this until I got older and I re-watched it, but all Ninja have a unique story before, during, or after they became Ninja. Though one thing that differs Lloyd from the rest is how young he was when he clearly knew his situation with his father, mother, “Ninja-acknowledgement”, family, etc. And I know what a lot of people are going to say, “But what about Kai and Nya? Cole? Possibly Skylor?” And I know, I agree. Unfortunately, all the ninja had to grow up with something traumatic in their childhood (the only one who didn’t was Jay; though later he had to find out he was adopted, which stinks finding out the way he did. I’m just glad Ed & Edna were as amazing as they were <3). The one thing that all the rest of the ninja have besides Lloyd within these situations, is they all still had *someone*. Kai had Nya, Nya had Kai. Cole still had his father, even under the circumstances. Skylor still had her father and etc with the rest. Lloyd had *no one* as a kid, and it makes me want to give his little baby-self in seasons 1-2 a massive hug.

I remember when I watched seasons 1-7 (especially 1-2) as a middle schooler, I thought little and early-teen Lloyd was so annoying (still do). But now, years later, it makes me really sad to think about his story. He’s the only ninja who had received *no* love from his parents or anyone around him until he met the ninja, and even then he later had to learn what *that* meant and how to have self-love… which he still has trouble doing a lot of the time throughout all the seasons. It makes me want to give him an even bigger hug!

And one thing about Lloyd I truly admire, is even through all of this crap, he *still* cares about his mother and forgives her so easily! The way his mother abandoned him as a child I completely disagree with, and how she just left him saying she was doing it for “him” (even though it *really* was for herself), and yet he STILL treats her kindly and respectfully, which is amazing of him. Now I’m not saying you shouldn’t forgive, it’s just how he accepted it like a champ is something that is completely admirable. Especially with how young he really was…. You have to remember Lloyd was only around 10-ish years old around seasons 1-2, yet he was able to accept his mother with opened arms. And sure, he probably was only doing this because he was attention-starved (explains why he wanted to become like his father as a kid), emotionally-starved, and starved for love, yet still as he got older and probably realized this more and more about his mother and their relationship, he still has *always* treated her with respect and kindness. And sure, people within this fandom get mad at how bitty Lloyd acted, yet we also have to remember how he was raised, which really wasn’t being “raised” at all.

Then we go into Garmadon and Lloyd’s relationship, which is a whole other can of worms. Yet unlike Misako, Lloyd’s mother, as a fan I 100% respect Garmadon as a parental figure than I ever will for her. Sure, he’s the biggest and baddest villain throughout the series. And sure, he too abandoned his son; yet unlike Lloyd’s mother, Garmadon made *up* for that time lost, and personally, I give him my upmost respect for that. He gave his son what he was lacking in receiving from his parents, and actually *cared* enough to do that for Lloyd. He showed his son what if felt like to actually be loved by your parent (in his own ways of course), he gave his son attention, and he showed what it was like to have an emotional connection with your child. GARMADON ACTUALLY SOMEWHAT HAD A REASON TO ACT THE WAY HE DID, HE WAS BITTEN BY A SNAKE THAT MESSED HIM UP FOR LIFE, YET UNLIKE MISAKO HE *STILL* TREATED LLOYD MORE AMAZING THAN SHE EVER COULD. Yet instead, throughout the 5 most healthy seasons of Garmadon and Lloyd’s relationship, especially seasons (3-5), SHE DIDN’T EVEN PUT IN THE EFFORT TO MAKE THIS A FAMILY RELATIONSHIP! Instead, she was hanging with Wu, Lloyd’s uncle. And I know for a fact we *all* know something’s going on there, which as a kid I even noticed, and I absolutely hated even then!!! Misako would pop in like everything was fine and dandy every-so-often, and yet Lloyd STILL treated her amazingly!!! That’s why Lloyd is my favorite! No matter what anyone does to him, says to him, or how he is treated, he still cares for them! He still wants them to have a happy ending, and he hasn’t even had his yet. It makes me really happy that he had the opportunity to meet the ninja, because without them as the loving family they are, I don’t think he would *at all* be the same kind-hearted character he is. The real loving people in his life are the team, and even though this is all fake and just a “silly” cartoon as some would call it, I’m GLAD he was given such a loving atmosphere.

Then we go into Seasons 8-16. Lloyd grew up, finally caught up mentally to his body (which I found terrible that he had to go thru that, yet he STILL acted like a champ when there were no expectations to!!!) and this is where I like his character even more. Still, even through all the darkness and pain he had to go through growing up (it gets worse as he gets closer to adult-hood), he still acts amazing! His father now isn’t his real father anymore, his mother is completely gone into oblivion (gone like she always has been, pfft), and he falls in love with someone who manipulates him because she herself is broken! (And yes, I probably should say now that I do ship Llorumi. Some of you may think I’m crazy, which I am lol, but I also have my reasons for supporting it, and I will most likely (someday) make a post like this explaining why I do, but right now we’re focusing on Lloyd. ;)) Yet Lloyd *still* forgives, accepts, and loves!!! After years of thinking about and watching this show, I’ve finally narrowed it down to those three attributes within him that I’ve seen consistently throughout the series. I believe we should all look up to Lloyd for this! Just being able to forgive and love the same people who had hurt and abused him, is truly a wonderful thing a person can achieve!

Plus, Lloyd is also funny, entertaining, and would be an amazing person if he were to be real. Sure, he has his own stuff he stores deep inside of himself, and he probably jokes as much as he does because he’s trying to make everything look okay, but ya know what? That is some amazing writing right there! Being able to make a LEGO “CHILDREN’S” show entertaining for kids to watch, but it also is able to make the older audiences feel recognized and noticed in attributes and personalities within some Lego Ninja? That’s some crazy awesome writing! It truly shows how if the right minds are put together, a show for “kids” can turn out to be fun and *emotional* for us older audiences to watch because we see these characters within ourselves.

So there it is, my rant as to why I do really love Lloyd as a character and not just some “Lego Ninja.” There’s some others, I mean his personality in-show and mine irl match up pretty well, so there’s that lol. I also like how he sits and listens to your problems and gives advice. He honestly is ✨the man✨ But there’s also multiple other things I didn’t even get around to mentioning in here that I like about his character too! There’s so much to unpack it feels within these characters. It’s almost as if this show *isn’t* for kids anymore, and it’s growing along with the viewers, yet still pertains to the “children” mindset.

Anyways, I’ve already spent two hours of my life writing this, so I’ll stop haha. But if you made it this far, feel free to comment and tell me your thoughts. I’d love to know. :)

P.S. HoW iS LlOyD, a PlAsTiC LiTtLe LeGo So GoOd LoOkInG <3333

[icarusbetide]

some of my group chat's obscure and inaccurate amrev (hamilton centric) fancasts part 1

the result of five students procrastinating and commenting "hey this guy could play hamilton". not very accurate and based on vibes. we are not scouting agents for good reason.

Alexander Hamilton

We know from people's descriptions and portraits that he most likely: had very red hair, was 5 ft 7-ish, and was slender with a "fine figure". Fun fact, some historians say that people calling him 'small' was more in regards to his slimness than his height, which was more or less average at that time period. Need to find a source for that.

From paintings we do see that he had a prominent nose...and perhaps more of a pointed chin with a slim face, as a young man? It seemed to have broadened out with age. Portraits of him seem wildly inconsistent, and the one Betsey said was very like him was later in life. Damn you Charles Wilson Peale, you never got his face right! tbh I didn't see much of Hamilton's face (especially young Hamilton) in amc Turn's Sean Haggerty who had too much of a round face, and I think he was casted based off of the peale painting lmao.

And of course, who can forget his beautiful beautiful anime blue-violet eyes. Abigail Adams saw the devil in them, Fisher Ames seems to have spent way too much time staring into them. Both accounts can be seen as complimentary.

I've yet to find an actor that really captures an older Hamilton well, so I'm not even going to go there. Honestly, i've yet to find a really spot-on young Hamilton either, so I have no fan-cast. But my friend has one she advocates for a lot:

Tom Blyth based on these specific paintings (and a de-aged one with dark hair). Her words: "he has really piercing blue eyes and we know he can pull off lighter hair from the hunger games movie! he's also very slender which would work well, even though he's pretty tall. we can do perspective work with height it's okay."

And apparently Hamilton's son (William? it's not Philip right) looked quite a bit like him. And in the sketch below I think we can see Blyth's face there!

Not too bad, I think. Especially since his face seems to have filled out more. Main concern is if the hypothetical project would characterize Hamilton well, and if he'd deliver that complicated energy lol. He is charismatic so a point in his favor?

Valentijn Dijkman is another one of my friend's fancasts so I don't know much about him besides the screenshots they shared. Apparently he is a model and tiktoker, and he certainly checks the ginger + blue eyes requirements! A bit of a yassified Hamilton, I think, but some contemporaries called him almost feminine and some descriptions of him are wild so that might be okay.

Elizabeth Hamilton

Now, we know that Betsey was very petite and had lovely dark curls and eyes that Hamilton and even Tilghman, I believe, commented on. It seems like she had a slim face and a strong T-zone. Even in the portraits we see her dark eyes. Portraits of her when she was younger:

My personal fav fan cast is actually Meg Tilly, specifically Meg Tilly in Valmont 1983. She has the dark hair and dark eyes and her facial structure itself is also similar enough to me.

There's also something in her performance here that would serve well for Elizabeth - a sweetness and patient quality plus a hidden playful streak.

John Laurens

We are all stumped for him lmao. We don't have a lot of paintings of him and the main one is a Charles Peale and I don't trust him 100%. We do know he was most likely blonde, taller than Hamilton, and was very handsome.

Coward's way out. Seth Numrich is a popular one and I wouldn't be angry about it!

George Washington

It ain't accurate but I loved Ian Kahn's Washington so much that I don't care. He's way too hot to be Washington but let's just pretend it's that hero-worship coming through.

And to round it all out, Turn Lafayette was also suprisingly accurate in face shape I think. You can see we ran out of steam at the end.

[isabella-kr]

Chapter Eight: Piccadilly 

This story will include mature themes, please only read if you are 18 years old or over.

If you are underage, you can read the Wattpad version instead as it will include no smut.

This is a work of fiction and does not represent the real Army.

Synopsis: A terrorist attack in Piccadilly Circus calls for reinforcements.

Pairing: John Price x Female!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, mention of imprisonment, use of weapons; guns, blood, explosions, mentions of war, and death.

Word Count: 4.2K

Note: Wtf is the colour of that stupid beanie??? I’ve been rewatching clips of him wearing it and I genuinely can’t tell. Is it dark grey? Dark Navy? Blue-ish grey? literally don’t know. This colour has been causing me more stress than my uni work. I’ve never had beef with a hat before, but this is genuinely pissing me off 

Note 2: For those of you who have been reading this story before this chapter came out - I have changed a minor detail in chapter 6. Her patch now says ‘LT. DOE’ (instead of Lt. No-Face) as in ‘Jane Doe’ which is used for unidentified persons, because I realised she would need an actual name for documents and General Morris would never give her a better name lmao

Series Masterlist  I  COD:MWII Masterlist

Previous Chapter I  Next Chapter 

GIF not mine

Her boots barely made a sound when she stepped over the lifeless body of a hostile. The darkness settled upon her as she stalked out of the room, only the shine of the moon lighting the way ahead.  

The building was damp and cold, forcing her mask to be drawn over the bridge of her nose as the strong smell of growing mould invaded her senses. She would have coughed if the circumstances were different, but right now every sound she made – no matter how small and quiet – became a life-threatening risk.  

Stepping out into the creaky corridor, she was careful to step only on the least rotting-like panels. Yet despite her efforts, the old wood still creaked under her weight as she moved along the highest floor in the building. Gently, she pushed open the door to one of the only rooms she had not yet inspected and moved in with her gun at the ready.  

The laser attached to her barrel moved erratically around the run-down walls, but in the end, the room turned out to be empty. Not a soul in sight, with only her heavy, yet controlled breathing reaching her ears.  

She let out a sharp breath and turned to walk back out, only to be met with the bewildered expression of a young man. He looked afraid but was quick to lift his gun and aim it her way.  

Unfortunately for him, she was faster. Grabbing the barrel of his gun, she pulled him into the room and kicked him to the floor. He let out a pained groan, and she almost felt bad when she stood above him with her weapon raised before ultimately slamming the back of her gun against his head.

He went out like a light; his eyes closed, and arms went limp, his gun falling by his side with a loud thud. The sound was startling, and she turned still above his body, listening to any sounds within the building.  

Seconds and minutes ticked by, and when no shuffle, no creek, and whisper reached her, her shoulders deflated. The tension left her body before she began to move along the cold corridors to check the remaining areas for any hostiles who might have still resided in the building.  

She found no-one. The building was empty.  

Clicking on button on the side of her comms, she spoke, “Building C is secure.”  

“Copy,” John Price’s voice reached her through the earpiece, “Wiz, how copy?”

“B’s secure,” Southwick replied, “I’m working on the security. You know, for how shit this place looks, their computer system’s pretty good. But with my equipment, there’s nothing I can’t get into.”

“Alright,” The captain hummed, “No-Face, get on the roof.”  

Her brows creased, but she did as asked anyway, “Roger.”  

Pushing the shutters aside, she leaned out of the window, her body twisting at an awkward angle to look up, rather than down. She securely attached the heavy gun to the straps of her vest, and sat at the edge of the window, her fingers clenching and muscles tensing when she grabbed onto a plank of wood above her and pulled herself up.  

Her handgun was pulled out in an instant when her eyes settled on a nearby body crouching down on a similar blank, just on the other side of the roof. He raised his hand in defence, but it was only when she noticed the boonie hat that she lowered her weapon.  

“Almost shot you,” she commented whilst making her way towards him.  

The corner of his lips lifted into a light smile, “Good thing you didn’t.”

She let out a soft hummed and crouched beside him, her hands grasping the sniper rifle that was already waiting for her arrival, “Would’ve taken your hat and ran,” she told him, “I’m not going back to that prison.”  

He huffed out a small laugh, “If you like it so much, all you need to do is ask and I’ll get you your own.”  

She made a displeased sound, “I don’t want it for myself, Price,” she shook her head, “I’d burn it.”  

He sent her a look, and got ready to defend his honour, but was cut off by the sound of engines revving in the distance. “Wiz, your status?”

“I’m in.”  

“Good. Now wait.”  

“Copy.”  

“No-Face,” John looked into the scope of his rifle, “You take the one on the left.”  

With a nod, she looked through her scope and aimed her gun at one of the snipers below them. Their guns were also at the ready, but due to their lower position, they had no idea two highly trained soldiers also had their eyes on them.  

Just as the headlights lit up the road, the captain’s phone began to buzz. He was quick to answer, and thanks to the silence that surrounded them, she too could hear the voice that echoed from his phone.  

“John?” A female voice spoke, a voice she very clearly recognised.  

“Laswell,” he kept his voice low.

“Where are you?”

He took in a small breath, readying himself as the cars began to near the infiltrated base, “Occupied.”  

“I’ve got a problem.”  

His eyes narrowed, “Russians?”

“Word travels fast,” she confirmed, “Chemical weapons have fallen into terrorist hands. They could be anywhere. Paris, New York...”

“London,” he said whilst nodding, a silent signal to shoot.  

With a press to the trigger, both hostile snipers were thrown to the ground as the bullets struck their heads, their rifles falling from their hands in the process.  

“Wiz, now,” No-Face told him through the comms, and as the gate began to open, both her and John stood back on their feet.  

“When can you brief?” Laswell asked.  

“We just did.”  

With that, the call was ended, and the two watched as the cars drove through the open gate and into the base. British soldiers then marched out of the vehicles, rushing to further secure the area from any incoming hostiles.  

“Good job,” John complimented, firmly patting her shoulder.

“Thank you, sir,” she sent him a warm smile, “You, too.”  

With a thankful nod, he gestured for her to follow. Using a ladder at the side of the building, the two were off in no time. They successfully evaded the medics that attempted to stop them; they had no wounds, at least nothing more than a couple of bruises.  

Price’s steps had a feeling of urgency in them. He marched through the run-down base and towards one of the generals, where they spoke in low tones, so no soldier would hear what was being shared between them.  

“What’s going on?” Thomas questioned stepping beside her.  

“Laswell called,” She told him and crossed her arms over her chest, “Think we’re going to London.”  

He frowned and his brows knit, “We’re bringing the war home?”  

“The war’s already there.”  

          Her knee suddenly popped when she stretched her leg in the cramped car. Thomas’s head snapped in her direction in an instant, and the expression he held on his face looked more offended by the sound than it ever did by any friendly insults she threw his way.  

“Can you not?” He spat, visibly uncomfortable by the sound.  

Despite letting out a tired sigh and wanting nothing more than to stretch her other leg, she nodded. Her only hope was that they were close to their destination so she could get out of the loud vehicle.  

“Cheers,” he grinned at her, then directed his attention at John, who clutched the wheel tightly in his hands, “Sir, is that a new hat?”  

“Focus, Southwick,” Was the captain’s response.

He didn’t cease his talking, however. Instead, he lowered his voice so that only she could hear the words that left his mouth, “It is,” he told her, “The colour’s not as faded, and it doesn’t have a hole in it.”

“Do you just stare at his hat whenever he’s around?” she questioned with raised brows.

“You don’t?”

“Depends on which one he’s wearing,” she answered truthfully, earning a nod from her friend.

When she looked back up, her eyes caught his in the rear-view mirror. They creased as he smiled, and she didn’t stop herself from mirroring the soft expression he sent her.  

She remembered the day he bought the hat as clearly as though it had happened yesterday. It was about a week into their shared time on Leave, and he decided to take her to town. She was apprehensive at first, the thought of being surrounded from every corner by hundreds of people only flaring up her anxiety. But with some persuasion and promise he would be there the entire time – not that he could leave, but his words of assurance were welcome – she relented.  

It was awful at first. She couldn’t shake off the feeling everyone around her was staring; glaring at her. She was latched onto his arm just like the time at the beach, and upon feeling how nervous she was beside him, he pulled into a secluded shop he knew would have little to no customers.  

It was quaint and silent; a breath of fresh air from the overcrowded little town. It was the type of shop that had everything and nothing at the same time – from crystals to cigarettes and from cheap necklaces to clothes.  

“You alright?” he made sure to ask, his blues ever so concerned about her well-being.  

She assured him with a quiet hum as her eyes closed in relief, “Thank you.”  

“’Course,” he rubbed her upper back comfortingly, his hand guiding her further into the shop so they wouldn’t block the entry for other customers.  

The new atmosphere did well to calm her down, her anxiety lessening the longer they remained in the small shop. Her hand trailed along a small table, where crystals of all colours were stood proudly on display. Some were pink, some purple and a few even a beautiful, deep black.  

Her fingers gravitated towards the small pink ones, which she picked up and carefully examined in her palm. It was cool against her skin, and although the corners of the stone were a little jagged, it still felt smooth to the touch. It was a pretty pink; almost pastel, not the type to blind you, but rather soothe you when needed.  

“That’s a rose quartz,” an old lady, who sat behind the counter, told her with a gentle smile, “Symbolises unconditional love, that one. Only a pound, too!”

No-Face placed the crystal back down on the table and swiftly moved away. The rack of clothes was next; by gently dragging her fingers along the material, she checked the roughness, or perhaps the softness of the clothing. There was nothing there that caught her attention, really. Nothing that she would like to put on herself – the colours were either too bright, or the material too rough against her skin.  

She was about to pull away and move to another part of the shop before her eyes landed on a soft, cotton hat right above her. Her arm had to stretch for her grab it, but once she did, she placed it on the captain's head with an amused chuckle.  

“Really?” he raised a brow as his arms crossed over his chest.  

The corners of her lips curled into a wide smile, “Don’t like it?”

“It’s hot pink.”  

She looked at him with a thoughtful expression, and then took the hat off him, only to replace it with a bright red one instead. The look on his face was comical, and she couldn’t help but laugh when his eyes narrowed and he bit on the inside of his cheek.  

“I think it looks perfect,” she told him with a tilt of her head.

“No,” he disagreed, but did not remove the beanie, “I look like Papa Smurf.”

“Who?”

He was quick to pull out his phone and type the name into the search engine, showing her the blue character with a white beard and a bright red hat covering his head. Her hand flew to her mouth, and a snort escaped her before she managed to stop it. She turned away from him, but her shaking shoulders betrayed her laughter, yet his face could not be any more deadpanned than it was in that moment.

“You done?” He let out an exasperated breath.  

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” She raised her hands in mock defence and turned back to look at him. Her teeth were digging into her bottom lip to stop more laughs from rolling out of her throat, “Here.”

She took the hat off him once again and placed it back in its original position. Then, as her eyes scanned the clothes once more, she perked up.  

“How about,” she grabbed one more beanie off the shelf and presented it to him, “this one? It would match your uniform.”

“That one’s better,” he admitted with a hum, “But I don’t need a new one right now.”  

“Oh,” her smile fell.  

“What is it?”  

“Well,” she took in a breath, “I wanted to get you something... a little ‘thank you’ gift.”  

“Oh,” he scratched his beard, “You don’t have to.”  

“But I want to... John,” her eyes were pleading as she looked at him.

He couldn’t say no, really. Not when the thought of getting him something made her this happy.  

“Alright.”

“Really?” her mood seemed to brighten instantly when he nodded, “Alright, but you’re gonna have to show me how this card works. I haven’t gotten the chance to use it yet.”  

He did show her. He helped her throughout the exchange. And even now, three months later, when her eyes settled on the dark, navy-blue beanie, she couldn’t help but smile.  

The moment of happiness was cut short, as just when their eyes locked again, a far-away explosion caused them all to tense up in their seats. A bright light lit up the dark sky like a flare, causing screaming and crying to echo throughout the city.  

The car sped up then, although the sudden panic did not make it easy for them to arrive at the destination. Even though Piccadilly Circus was still miles away from where they were, people were already running around in alarm. Some civilians were getting in their car and driving the other way, others were crying on their phone with their families, and some were running down the street with fear in their eyes.

It was havoc.  

The influx of Police cars driving to the scene did not make their journey much easier. It felt like hours, but must have been only about ten minutes later, that they finally made their way to the road junction and jumped out of the vehicle.  

Their rifles were held high, and bullets began to rain in seconds of their boots hitting the ground. The terrorists were relentless, and when No-face shot at a man running their way, they were blinded by his vest exploding mere metres away from them.  

“Suicide bombers,” John spoke gruffly, his teeth gritting as they approached a tall building with the entrance blocked off by a metal of sorts. A man was by it, pushing the scrap with his shoulder when a hostile ran his way, a knife ready in his hands.  

He blocked him, but the captain was faster. The bullet was lodged in the man’s brain before he got the chance to fully get out of the building and attack the soldier.  

“Blue! Blue!” he yelled with his hand out towards the trio.  

“I see you. You armed up?” Price approached the young soldier and waved off the two.  

No-Face and Thomas shared a look and exchanged a quick nod before moving in separate directions. The bullets were still raining from both sides. The terrorists shot at the police, and the officers were sure to retaliate in a similar manner.  

The blood painted the ground like a biblical flood, coating her leather boots with a dark-red layer that she knew would be a nightmare to was off. She crouched behind a ruined car, using the bent metal of the door as a shield and shooting at the hostile men through the smashed window.  

It was carnage.  

Death intoxicated the air with its putrid smell, settling on the inside of her throat and clogging up her airways. It felt like tar was sliding down her throat, the smoke from the multiple explosions enveloping him in an unwelcome hug.  

She coughed and moved her mask to the side to spit out the thick saliva that gathered on her tongue. It was disgusting. Vile, even.  

She heard a scream in the distance. A young woman, with blood covering the side of her head cried as a hostile began to make his way in her direction.  

Without much thought, she sprang into action and sprinted to her. Shooting at the hostile, she pulled her by a wall shielding with a metal bin. She clung onto No-Face's arm as though her life depended on it, and in a way it did. Her exposed knees were scraped, her ankle swollen, and the non-bloody side of her head was beginning to bruise.

“Are you alright?” she raised her voice, speaking through the loud sirens and gunshots that surrounded them.

“My head-” an explosion, “It hurts.”  

The gunshots suddenly ceased. She stayed there for a little while longer, her arm wrapping securely around the woman’s shoulder as she made sure the area was finally secure. She pulled her to her feet then, and helped her walked as she searched for a medic.  

Thankfully, an ambulance was stood mere metres away, and once a paramedic saw her with the young woman on her arm, he rushed to her side. The civilian was taken off her hands in almost an instant, first-responders rushing around her with urgency.  

No.  

No, it couldn’t be.  

The building, which he had watched Price enter with an unknown soldier was now on fire, and she had no doubt that was where the explosion had come from. Her heart felt like it could jump out of her chest, and she wasted no time in walking towards the firefighters who were trying to put out the smouldering fire.  

Please don’t be dead. Please. Please. Please-

“No-Face,” a familiar voice caught her attention.  

Thomas was stood beside her with a bandage covering his upper bicep. His skin was coated in blood, some of it soaking into and painting his military clothing a frightening red.  

“Thomas,” she approached him with quick steps, “Are you alright?”

“Just a flesh wound,” he assured her with a pat to her shoulder, “You seen Price, though?”

She shook her head, “No. I was hoping you have.”  

“Shit.”  

“Did he say anything on the comms?” she questioned.

He shrugged, “Don’t know, I got a little distracted.”  

“Well, fuck,” she looked around wildly, her eyes widening in fright, “You don’t think he-”

His expression mirrored hers, but then he shook it off, “What- no! Nah, definitely not. He’s gotta be-”  

“Southwick get back to the medics,” A sudden order made them both turn, “You’re bleeding through.”

There, in all his uninjured glory, stood Price with his hands holding onto his vest. His brows were raised at them both, but he was most focused on the bloody bandage on Thomas’s shoulder. The soldier soon followed his line of vision and cursed, grabbing onto his injury and making his way back to the busy responders.  

“Thought you died in there,” she told him with a grumble, her feet springing to action as he began walking. He sent her an apologetic look, though his eyes quickly settled on the soldier he met prior, “What are you thinking?”  

“Not sure yet...” he said.  

London wasn’t a pretty sight at that moment. Dead bodies, covered with white sheets, littered the bloody ground, and sirens wailed all around them. It was devastating, and she could almost feel the sadness – the loss – filtering the air.  

“You saved lives today, sergeant,” John spoke as they approached the young soldier.

He was facing away from them, but even from this angle she could see the sour – almost furious – look on his face. He shook his head, “This shouldn’t have happened in the first place, sir.” He grumbled, “They sent us in half-assed, so everyone can just keep pretending we’re not at war.”  

John’s hands were back up, slotting underneath his vest, “Yeah, lie of the fuckin’ century, that is.”  

“Then why have we got our hands tied? Let’s just take the bloody gloves off and fight...” the sergeant turned to look at the captain, “sir...”  

“Go on.” His voice was soft, like the many times he was with her when she opened up to him; when she showed vulnerability.  

“We don’t stand a chance in hell with these rules of engagement, captain,” his voice was steady as he spoke, though the frustration was clear in his tone, “They can tell us where, they can tell us when... don’t tell us how. My men were tracking that cell for weeks.”

Price took a step closer and lowered his tone, “You had actionable intel on this?”

“Quite a bit, sir,” He admitted.

“Okay, Garrick,” John nodded as his phone began to buzz, “You’re with me.”

He answered the call and then walked away without a word, leaving the two alone in the midst of the quietening havoc. The sergeant’s eyes still held anger, but a certain hope was now residing in them as well.  

“If there’s one thing I know about Price,” she began, gaining the younger man’s attention, “He’s gonna get shit done... no matter what.”  

He knit his brows, eyes trailing Price’s figure before returning to her, “You think he’s gonna do something about… this?” he questioned sceptically.

She hummed in confirmation, “I’m sure of it. What’s your name?”  

“Garrick,” he wet his lips, “Kyle Garrick, ma’am.”  

“That what they call you?” she questioned, “No nickname I should know about?”

He nodded, “Gaz.”  

“Ah,” she huffed out a silent laugh, “Knew it. No-Face,” she held out her hand towards him, which he shook in a greeting.  

“Lieutenant,” a sudden voice interrupted the two.

A military medic was running towards them with a limp in his step. Blood was coating his uniform, and he himself had a bandage wrapped around his forearm. Sweat was dripping furiously down his temple, and he wiped it off once he finally reached her.  

“There’s a civilian,” he panted, “Said she needs to speak with you.”  

Her eyebrow raised in surprise, but more so confusion. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t question the medic. Instead, she wordlessly followed him to a bright ambulance which stood not too far from where she was stood with Gaz.  

The bright and colourful light from the sirens was almost blinding, reflecting off the puddles on the ground and the windows in the buildings around them. But she wasn’t much focused on them, but rather the woman who was sitting on the back on the vehicle with a man by her side.  

The same woman from before, she realised. The woman she pulled to safety when a hostile had a gun aimed right at her. She was the one who asked for her, and for a strange reason, all No-Face could feel was dread.  

Had she done something to hurt her?  

God, was she about to get fired?

No.

Positive thoughts.

You’ve done nothing wrong.  

“Miss,” the medic called, stopping in front of her with No-Face by her side.  

The woman looked relieved, and although her body ached, she rid of the blanket that enveloped her shaking body and threw her arms tightly around her. Her embrace was tight – grateful. She was crying in her shoulder as quiet and desperate ‘thank you’s left her lips.  

“You saved me, thank you! I- thank you so fucking much,” She sobbed.  

No-Face wasn’t exactly certain what to do, but seeing as her arms were still holding tightly onto her, she returned the bone-crushing hug. She patted her upper back in the same manner John Price had done for her before, and only pulled away once the woman showed signs of wanting to do so.  

“Thank you,” she said one more time before moving to the man.  

He, too, showed his gratitude for her heroic actions, and kissed his lover’s temple whilst pulling her away from the scene.  

She was still stood there, frozen, for a little while longer. Lost in her own thoughts.  

Until she felt a figure stand behind her. She knew who it was without even having to turn around, “I’m not used to it.”  

She looked at him over her shoulder and watched as John Price responded with a questioning tilt of his head.  

“Getting thanked; I’m not used to it. Don’t think I ever will be.” she confessed.

“You saved her life,” he said, “An action worth gratitude.”

“Maybe,” she looked down at her feet, “Doesn’t take away from all the lives I’ve taken, though.”  

He hummed, “No, it doesn’t, but it’s a step in the right direction.” He paused and placed a hand on her shoulder, “Now, I’m not saying you should forget about the crimes you’ve committed... but I think it’s time you forgive yourself, yeah? Can’t live like this for the rest of your life.”  

She thought over his words, and although she knew he was right, it was still difficult to accept his words. “I’ll try,” she told him.

He squeezed her shoulder, and when she looked up at him, he had a smile already plastered on his face, “That’s all I ask.”

Tag List: @jxvipike @smoggyfogbottom @stressyanddepressyfoodservice @boniscute @ohgodthebogisback @konigbabe @tapioca-marzipan @randomchick546 @jaimiespn @no-one-anon @urfavsunkissedleo @kyuupidwrites @the-sky-writes @urminebutidontwantyou @copiasratscheese @duskwo0d @bowserowser @ilovemoneyandcheese @boxofgasoline @freyjasfenrir @jimmorrison13 @carlyi @ramadiiiisme @honeyr4ven @gills-lounge @makastaco @chloeforde

A/N- Tumblr picks and chooses who I can and cannot tag sometimes, so it’s possible some people might not have been properly tagged in previous chapters. Idk why this happens I’m sorry :((

[slexenskee]

hello!! i was rereading mdnsy and started wondering why you always use 'gojo' instead of satoru while naming him in his own pov. is there a reason for it?

sorry I'm not answering this privately but I do get asked this a lot so I figured it's better to just keep it out there 😅

A bunch of reasons swinging from random preference, literary/readability, and plot/characterization. Preference - idk for whatever reason A LOT of jjk fics refer to him exclusively as Gojo. I think that's bc a lot of them have him as a mc but its not from his POV, or its someone else's (usually Yuuji). I got into the habit of referring to him as Gojo in my head after reading it so much lol.

Which kinda leads me into Plot - that kinda stuck with me and in the end I ended up characterizing Gojo in my head as someone who has outrageously uncontrolled and untreated identity issues lmao. He was literally born as some fated sorcerer and his entire personal identity was intrinsically tied to being the Six Eyes holder. No one in his life looked at him as 'Satoru', he was always the Gojo heir and the Six Eyes holder. From a young age that's how he saw himself - reinforced by the fact I imagine he was probably almost always referred to as 'young master Gojo' by everyone in his life. He doesn't seem to have any kind of relationship with his parents in canon, so idk honestly who in his life would have been close enough to call him Satoru, at least not until high school. So Gojo himself doesn't even see himself as Satoru. Frankly if he had to pick a 'persona' that he truly identifies with, it would be his title 'The Honored One', but the weight of using just 'Gojo' with all its history and legacy (six eyes, clan, etc) is a close second.

This is also why he has no issue going from Touya, Dabi, Six Eyes, Satoru, and Ru-kun interchangeably in the story. They're all both aspects of his identity and also not really titles he identifies with at all, so he doesn't really care what people call him.

!!! ok somewhat spoiler-ish, but this is an intentional plot device that is meant to change as he grows in the story and starts to come to terms with himself as a human and not just the Gojo clan's lauded Six Eyes holder.

There's a part in one of (?) the next few chapters where he's asked directly what name he prefers, and he says 'You can call me Touya if you like, but I prefer Satoru'. A very different and more intentional response than the one he had in the last chapter where Nighteye asked what to call him and he was just like 'uhhh Six Eyes I guess since I'm here as a hero? idk lol'

Eventually he'll finally get to the point where he stops seeing himself as just the living avatar of the 'Honored One/current Six Eyes holder' and actually as Satoru, the person. Buuttttt idk if I'll ever stop calling him Gojo in his POV though, for the reason below ~

As for readability and a literary device - there are so many POVs in this fic and all of them call Gojo something different: Dabi for most, Touya for Fuyumi/Natsuo, Ru-kun for Katsuki, Satoru for Yui/the band, Six Eyes thrown in every once in a while. And all those POVs will change what they refer to him as depending on context, like sometimes Hawks thinks of him as Satoru, other times as Dabi. I wanted Gojo's POV to be very obviously removed from all his various names. Gojo's POV is the only POV where he's referred to by one name only.

[bipercabethrights]

Hiii I'm back with more voice types and this time it's the Kane Chronicles! You may have noticed I did the first 3 within like 2 days and then never came back to it. I started this one at the same time as those but got stuck on literally one person lol. It sat in my drafts for a year and I forgot about it lol sorry

part 1 • part 2 • part 3

Carter: baritone, but he's just here for the elective credit

Sadie: mezzo soprano, but tries to sing all the parts at once. It's really confusing to sit by her bc you can never tell what she's supposed to be singing and it's distracting as hell (inspired by personal experience)

Zia: alto 2 that doesn't get the attention she deserves. Y'know how a lot of people only pay attention to sopranos? that's what we're looking at here. hates it with a burning passion bc she's good and deserves to be recognized for it

Amos: has a bass voice, but he's actually in the band and there to accompany them

Julius: something's telling me bass-baritone. Idk.

Walt: he's a baritone. I don't really have anything else to say about this one he just gives baritone vibes

Anubis: bass-baritone, but he's not actually apart of the choir, he showed up with Walt one day and then kept coming back

Bast: she's another showy soprano 1 who gets a lot of solos, it bothers people but she's so sweet so they can't get too mad

Desjardins: hear me out. Tenor. Something about the godawful french accent I always imagine him with makes it impossible to imagine him as anything else lmao (no offense french people I'm just horrible at accents)

Jaz: she gives soprano vibes, but like. Ensemble soprano.

Cleo: she's still on the young side so soprano-ish for now, but once her voice matures she'll end up either an alto 1 or a mezzo soprano.

Felix: tenor. Again, he's pretty young so that's a given. But I feel like he would stay a tenor for some time.

@drewtanakagf aka the only person to show consistent interest, I hope that still applies? it's been over a year whoops

Had to pull in a lot of side characters for this one lmao

[st4rrmii]

Ur oc is so interesting JSJJSJS if u can, pls info dump abt Lucien I must know more abt them 🗣️🗣️‼️🙏

I am finally alive enough to respond to this lets fucking GO

I'm gonna make a separate post of his full lore and allat so for now I'll kinda drop random info/lore pieces as well as how he came to be yippee

(Y'all know the drill everything under the cut)

Design/How he came to be:

For his design I took a lot of inspo from dif things:his bangs are inspired by Ken Sato's bangs, as are his thick ass mf brows. I wanted his bodytype to be built but not OVERLY bulky to suit the work he does, as he still has to be agile while also strong, I also looked into men's gymnastics and their bodytypes, as he grew up doing gymnastics and swimming.

His adult design has a lot of cosmetic dino/reptilian inspired traits, as I wanted him to feel almost like he was closer to dinosaurs than humans due to him isolating himself for so long. He has a split tongue and sharper canines than when he was younger, as well as his eyes being an almost yellow amber.

Honestly I am still working on his lore, as there are certain things I want to do but know it would be either too unrealistic, or too "Gary Stu"ish, so sometimes I gotta choose between doing the self indulgent shit or putting it on the back burner lmao

He's actually a revamped OC I already had, honestly when I first watched CT when it came out I wasn't going to insert him into it, but the hyperfixation hit hard so here we are. I am very glad I did though, as I've met multiple cool ass people thru it, not to mention theres just something about people GENUINELY caring and being interested about your OCs that makes the struggles of being an artist/writer so worth it (Love y'all 🫶)

A lot of his writing is inspired by myself and my life, though exaggerated in some spots. His dad is inspired by my dad in some aspects, as are his siblings. He also has a lot of my behaviors, including the negative ones, as I find writing them can help me learn how to cope/deal with them. His disabilities are also based off mine.

Honestly a lot of his writing was just done overtime, there wasn't a huge amount of planning put into it 😭 but that is just generally how I write my OCs, it just feels right

Lore and Character Traits:

He has been growing out his hair since Camp Cretaceous, the only time he's cut it since (aside from trimming dead ends) was to make a wig for his sister

Speaking of his sister, he has/had two siblings, Landon, his older brother, who unfortunately passed away a couple years before CC, and Mia, his little sister, who is luckily still kicking lmao 😭

He lives on the sanctuary he works at, his house is very secluded, as the line of work he does can end up with people... not being very fond of him, so he has to live in such a secluded/hidden area to stay safe

He started designing prothetics and disability aids when he was as young as 12, he now focuses on dino prosthetics, though he has designed a few human ones

Most of his work actually ON the sanctuary is "exotic vet" work (aka hes a dino doctor), as it is quite rare to find vets who aren't afraid of dinos 😭 though he also works on socializing the dinos

His work beyond that is much riskier, as he works to rescue dinos from shady businesses/people, mainly focusing on the dino equivalent of puppy mills, though he has rescued dinos from more dangerous organizations.

He started this work a little while after his father passed, he originally started to work on the sanctuary just doing basic work, mostly as a way to pay for the rehab he had to go through (will get more into that in his full lore post), as well as using it as a way to isolate himself, though very quickly got pulled into doing rescues

He got his growth spurt around this time as well, possibly due to being on Testosterone for a year at that point and having inherited his father's tall ass genes, as well as constantly working out. He was very awkward with it at first, going from being the tiny one of the group to being the tallest was a lot, so he's glad that Ben also had a sudden growth spurt, so he wouldn't be alone in the "Save any growth for the rest of us?" Comments 😭

Sammy calls him Bumpy's step father, as he's about as clingy and protective with her as Ben is. That dino saved his life on so many occasions that he just can't help but feel indebted to her in some way.

Despite Lucien being older than her, Sammy kinda looks at him like a little brother, being very protective of him. It's partially because she got so used to him being itty bitty and being the type to constantly hide behind people when he was scared on Nublar, so she's just not used to him being grown and able to protect himself. Has fully told Ben that if he hurts him she will take him out at the shin, Ben believes her.

He has a dino on the sanctuary that is his favourite, I haven't 100% settled on the breed, but what I know for sure is she is a carnivore that was rescued from one of the dino mills, and therefore has had multiple procedures to make her less dangerous (such as having her front teeth removed, being declawed, etc.) And she also unfortunately lost a leg while in said mill, though Lucien made her a prosthetic for it. She also has dwarfism due to being in a cage for such an important time in her life growth wise. She is Lucien's baby and he would go to war for her.

Lucien's music taste is,,, all over the place, ranging from kpop, to indie rock, to metal, honestly as long as its not country he'll probably enjoy it

His tattoos have to deal with his work, specifically the doll/robo joints, as part of him feels kind of like he was taken in a vulnerable state in his life to do things that no 16/17 yro should have to do and yet he can never bring himself to step away from the work now as he's too deep into it

That isnt to say he doesnt feel good about rescuing dinos, but unfortunately with that kind of work comes hurting people, and while they are bad people, it still fucks you up

Not super great at communication (which I am actually writing a fic about 😈) which can cause issues but he does try his best, esp for Ben

Collects plushies

Dr.Pepper enjoyer (its his entire personality I fear)

I cannot think of anything else atm that won't end up in the lore drop, but I might find one of those OC ask thingies so y'all can send in more specific asks, since I suck ass at thinking of things off the top of my head 😭 but again thank y'all for all the love for Lucien, he's my baby so to see other people loving him makes me so happy

[dindadjarin]

A Chance Encounter – 1

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader 

summary: what happens when a mandalorian walks into your mechanic job in Ferrix asking for a spare part? well you help him of course, and try not to develop a crush.

an: ok, so this is something my clown brain came up with after watching Andor. I kept thinking about a 25-ish year old Din Djarin who’s starting to make a name for himself as a skilled bounty hunter, but isn’t very skilled yet. He gets his razor crest damaged and happens to find Ferrix as the closest planet. Like I said, I’m a clown. I hope you like it. This is supposed to be a 5ish part story but it’ll depend if it’s actually good/liked lmao.

Masterlist — • — Part two Part three part four

-----

“I’m heading out for lunch!”

 “Okay!” You shout over your shoulder, eyes focused on the datapad in front of you. You were just finishing up signing for a new shipment that just got delivered to Bix’s Salyard.

 “You sure you’re not coming along?” Bix asks you, even though she already did several times in the last 5 minutes.

 “No, I’m fine for now. Have fun!” You tell her, raising your voice and smiling even though she can’t see it. “And thank you.” You say to the delivery man who brought the boxes in.

 He left them in a pile near Bix’s office, one on top of the other. The shipment is full of second-hand parts that arrived after many delays. To say you’re excited is an understatement when you can’t wait to inspect and organize them. The back door to the main garage is open and cold wind comes through it making you shiver even while wearing a thick sweater under your work overalls.

 A second later you walk to the boxes, ready to take the one from the top, but it turns out to be heavier than you thought it would be. Your knees almost buckle under its weight, just as the sound of footsteps comes through the open door. Your first thought is that Cassian has dropped by to ask Bix for a favour, and your voice is strained from the weight on your arms when you speak.

 “Just a moment!” You say, maneuvering the box to an empty corner of the garage, but it becomes lighter a second later as the person who walked in takes half of the weight from you. With the new help –probably Cassian’s– you place the box down in the designated place and turn to your left to thank your helper.

 “Bix isn’t here, Cassian.” You say, wiping your hands on your overalls. You look up and come to face to face with the dark visor of a Mandalorian helmet, “Oh you’re not Cassian.”

 Awkwardness creeps up your neck. The man in front of you wears red and well-worn beskar armor, an Amban rifle behind his back. The shop’s lights reflect off his shiny helmet, the one part of his armor that looks the newest, maybe because it’s not covered in paint like the rest. You first thought is that he is probably a bounty hunter, but you don’t let any of your intrigue show on your face. Instead, you put on a smile. “Thank you for the help. What can I do for you.” You place your hands on your hips and assume a more relaxed stance.

 “I’m looking for a part.” His voice is smooth despite coming from the modulator in his helmet, it’s got a deep tone to it –but young. Not that you can be sure though since you can’t see his face. His short reply is followed by his open palm that shows you a round piece of metal, less than 4 inches in diameters –it has a scorch mark by the edge where a chunk has been chopped off.

 You take it from him and inspect it. “One of your capacitors got shot.” You state, looking from the part to him. “I’m guessing your nacelle got damaged too if this is busted.”

 The Mandalorian only tilts his helmet ever so slightly and you smile, amused.

 “Well, I think I have one of these lying around here, lucky for you. Ships rarely have this specific type of capacitor anymore.”

 You turn from him, scorched part still in your hand and move towards the back of your workshop where you have 5 crates full of trinkets and incomplete parts. One of them is labeled Engines and as you start to look through it you can hear the Mandalorian’s heavy boots trail behind you. “I’m guessing from this part alone, your ship is pre-empire?  Maybe a LAAT?”

 “Razor Crest.” The modulated voice says which makes you look over your shoulder to him.

 “That’s a sweet ship.” You go back to searching for the part –it’s only a couple of minutes until you do. “Aha! Told you I had one.”

 “How much?” He asks.

 You stand and turn back to him, eyebrows furrowing in the middle. “What do you mean? I still have to go and fix it.”

 The Mandalorian leans his weigh on his left leg and tilts his helmet again. “I can do it.”

 You chuckle at this, “Yeah right, and the nacelle?”

 “It can fly without it.”

 “Hmm, I guess you’re right.” Your shoulders move up and down in a shrug as you sidestep him and walk back to the open garage door –your voice trails behind you as you continue to speak. “It will fly, with your engine and capacitor exposed to the elements, an easy target for any shot. But that’ll only make your engine blow up. Nothing too bad right?”

 There is a long sigh behind you, and even though you should know better than to annoy a Mandalorian, you can’t help but laugh quietly. He has a Razor Crest, a frankly amazing antique you’ve only heard and seen few pictures of, you’ll be dammed if you didn’t get to see it in person. Even better: fix it.

 “What’s that going to set me back?” The Mandalorian’s voice comes out slow, like he is considering changing his mind and let you fix it.

 “Tell you what,” You smile at his visor again. “You let me fix your ship and I won’t charge you.”

 His helmet tilts, and you’re almost sure he’s thinking Are you serious right now?

 “I’m being serious. Fixing a Razor Crest is payment enough.” You hold the new part up again and wave it around. “What do you say?”

 A long sigh, then an even longer pause.

 “Sure.” He finally concedes and you feel your face light up, even when you know the man in front of you is probably rolling his eyes.

 “Alright.” You say with another shrug, as if you aren’t excited beyond words for the opportunity. “Let me get my toolbox. You can grab a piece of scrap metal from the back, I’ll need that for the nacelle.”

 It takes a couple of minutes, but in little to no time the two of you are walking out the garage door that you close on your way out. The Mandalorian holds the piece of scrap metal under his arm as if it weighs nothing, which surprises you. You’ve seen the garage’s staff struggle with pieces like that even when they have help. You keep your toolbox on your right hand and point at his leg with your left. You feel bad that you didn’t notice he was almost limping from the angry cut on his right leg. You could have offered him a Medpack.

 “That wound looks painful. Rough bounty?” You ask him as you walk to the shipyard. It’s a tough bet to assume he’s a bounty hunter, but from the rumours and stories you’ve heard, there’s nothing you do know about Mandalorians. They keep their word; you know that much.

 Another sigh from the beskar-clad man. “Not really.”

 “Oh.” Is all you say, fixing your gaze straight ahead, that is until the Mandalorian speaks again. Unprompted.

 “There were others after the same bounty.”

 You nod your head, understanding the hunter’s predicament. “They’re the ones who shot your capacitor.” Out of your peripheral you see him nod. “I can tell you’re not much of a talker… sorry for the questions.”

 Before either of you can say anything else, the shipyard comes into view, and in the far side you can spot the Mandalorian’s ship. A shiny and beautiful relic of the time before the Empire. You approach it slowly, with barely contained excitement, and drop your toolbox in favor of running your hand over the hull.

 “Woah.” You gape at the shiny ship, looking over the yellow designs on the side. “A pre-empire ship, I’ve never seen one up close before. She’s perfect.”

 “How did you have the missing part then.” The Mandalorian’s tone is almost curious.

 “So I can be ready should the opportunity to see one present itself, and it did!” You smile over your shoulder as you walk around the ship, taking it in until you spot the hole on the left nacelle and the incomplete capacitor. “Here we are. See, you’ve got to fix the nacelle otherwise your capacitor won’t stay in place.”

 You open your toolbox and take out your gloves which you put on quickly so you can get to work. The Mandalorian walks behind you and places the piece of scrap metal on the ground.

  “You’re not just going to stand there, are you?” You ask him, digging your hands into the engine and taking out the capacitor to fix. “You gotta help me out, so next time you can do it yourself. Something tells me you’ll need it.”

 The Mandalorian chuckles, and it makes you glance at him with a grin. He has a sense of humor under that armor then. He then helps you get up to the engine; with his hands one on top of the other, palms up, he gives you the push upwards that allows you to climb on top of one of the nacelles. Moments later, the Mandalorian takes a ladder out of his ship and uses to pass you your toolbox and linger close to where you begin your work.

 You use a screwdriver to take apart the capacitor and clean the new spare part on your overalls before putting it in place. As per your request, the Mandalorian hands you the screws and bolts that you need until the part is put back together.

 “You live here in Ferrix?” He asks you while you concentrate on your work. So he does talk, just not all the time.

 You nod once, securing one of the main bolts before you speak. “Yeah, for a couple of years. I showed Bix I was a good mechanic and she hired me to help her, have been here since.”

 The Mandalorian doesn’t ask anything else, and silently hands you whatever too you need to continue your work. It remains like that for a few more minutes, and you enjoy the silence –it’s not uncomfortable, it feels like the opposite.

 Once happy with the fixed capacitor, you grab it with both hands and place it back in the designated compartment inside the engine.

 “Even if it’s secure here,” You motion to the two bolts that are holding the piece in place, “The nacelle is what keeps it safely attached to the engine. It doesn’t give it room to move forwards or backwards.”

 You look over your shoulder at the Mandalorian’s visor as you speak, pointing and the things worth noting and getting a warm feeling on your chest when you notice he is paying close attention to your every word. It’s almost like he likes new knowledge, and somehow despite not being able to see his face, you can tell he’s focused on what he’s learning.

 “Can I ask you something?” You say, while put some tools away and take out the ones you need for the next part. “I know you must get this question a lot of times but I… I genuinely don’t know.”

 “The helmet.” Is all the Mandalorian says, and you nod your head.

 “What happens if you take it off?” You ask, securing the last bits of the engine in place.

 “I would be breaking my Creed.” He explains, his voice gentler than you were expecting. You imagined he would be annoyed with you.

 “You wouldn’t be a Mandalorian?” You pause your work to look at him over your shoulder.

 “This is the Way.” He nods once before he looks away.

 You nod in understanding, trying to imagine what you would feel if you were in his shoes but quickly going back to work. “Can you bring the scrap over?”

 A few moments later, the two of you move back to the ground and together to cut and bend the piece of scrap metal to the ideal shape that would cover the exposed space in the engine. You use your torch to heat up the metal and the Mandalorian uses one of your hammers to shape it. Then with the help of your stick welder, you attach it over the scorched hole. It’s almost an hour of hard work, but the end result is as satisfying as all of your other repairs. You’re impressed by your skills, and you show it with an proud look up at the engine.

 “Well, I guess my work here is done.” You tell your companion while you gather your tools from the ground and place them inside your toolbox again. “Looks as good as new.”

 “Please accept some credits for your work.” The Mandalorian starts to reach inside his pocket, but you shake your hand. He sighs, exasperated.

 “Work?” You wave his words away with a bat of your hand. “Please this was like a holiday, and it means more experience in my pocket. Thank you for letting me fix it; it’s a real life classic.”

 The Mandalorian nods, though it’s not without reluctance, “Thank you.”

 “You should get your wound cleaned up too, you know.” You glance at the cut on his leg. “There’s a market two streets down and to the right, if you need supplies.” Your hand motions the direction for him, pointing at the streets you’re referring to.

 “Thank you.” He says again. “You’re very kind.”

 “You’re welcome. Get the Meiloorun pastries while you’re there, they’re incomparable.” You smile, taking your toolbox in one hand and offering him the one that’s free. “Safe travels.”

 The Mandalorian nods and shakes your hand once. The leather of his gloves feel rough and worn out on your skin, almost like your own when you put them on. He lets go of your hand and you smile one last time, knowing he will be very pleased with your repairs.

 Knowing Bix might be back from her lunch break, you decide to head there to leave your toolbox before you grab something to eat. The thought of inviting the Mandalorian for lunch appears briefly in your mind, but you squash it down quickly. He can’t take his helmet off, how would he eat in public? You shake your head to yourself and smile when you spot Bix opening the boxes you had left behind.

 “Guess what?” You ask her, putting your toolbox down by your station.

 “You went on that much needed lunch break?” She raises a stern eyebrow, always concerned with the way you put your own needs second.

 “Nope.” You risk a smile as you shake your head. “I fixed a Razor Crest, Bix. A real one!”

 “What?” Bix turns from the box to face you. “What was a Razor Crest doing here?”

 “A bounty hunter needed a repair.” You shrug, toning down your joy and satisfaction from a job well done. “Want any help?”

 “Yes, actually.” Bix smiles, pointing at the door. “Go get some food, please. You can’t check out these parts if you pass out.”

 “You and your lunch breaks, Bix.” You roll your eyes but smile at her as you make your way to the door. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

 The streets are busy with the rush of people coming and going from different cantinas and food stands around the garage. You’re quick to spot a short line of people to your favorite stall and join the queue until it’s your turn. The old lady –Cateea­– who handmakes all the food tells you about her day as you sit down and eat your lunch next to her. She tells you her daughter is now engaged, and though she’s very happy for her, she will miss her terribly once she leaves.

 “She’s going off-world?” You ask her, a frown pulling at your lips.

 Cateea nods, sadness glazing her eyes, but she shakes it off her features as she takes another order. “Nothing else we can do about it. She’ll visit often though.”

 You offer her your brightest smile. “Of course, she will. Look at the lovely company and food she’ll have waiting for her here.”

 Cateea chuckles at your words and after a few minutes you bid her goodbye, knowing you must get back to work. You can’t help but look around as you walk back to the shop, trying to spot a shiny helmet standing out from the crowds, but no such luck. Stop it, no crushes allowed.

Once back at Bix’s Salyard, you move towards the back where your workstation is, spotting Cassian talking to Bix in her office on your way. Everything is just as you left it earlier, except for a leather pouch and a small paper bag that now sit on your desk. You take the first and find more than a handful of credits inside, while the paper bag contains two Meiloorun hand pies. The Mandalorian. You must give him credit for his persistence, he got the last word in the end, and though he shouldn’t have, you’re grateful for the extra credits that’ll add to your savings to get off-world.

 You find yourself smiling as you gaze down at the two items, wondering if you’ll ever see the intriguing man again.

part 2

[siaisyomum]

Their backstorys???

OkAy, so I have a question:

What ACTUALLY happened to everyone's parents in the movie Nimona??? Like, we know basically... NOTHING about everyone's family!

Like, in the scene where it shows everyone as young children, they look ten-ish.

What happened before they were ten-ish?

Maybe the reason Todd acts like a brat is because of something that happened to him when he was younger. Maybe the reason why Ambrosius goofs off is because his parents weren't very nice, so he made sure everyone else felt happy. Maybe Ballisters parents thought that him becoming a knight was best for him. I mean, bro came with a freaking scar on his eye. What about the Squire? He's probably got some lore in him. As well as the Director (speaking of the Director, what's her real name??) What happened to the king? (My friend said he died because there's a picture of him or smth 💀)

WHAT ABOUT NIMONAS FAMILY, HUH??

She had to be creating by someone- or something. She was what? "Created from the ashes"? But what MADE those ashes CREATE her? It's not like ashes or magic and anything like that can just form itself into a creature. Something (or someone) had to help it!

BuT tHaT's JuSt A tHeOrY

My god, this is, like, the longest thing I've typed on Tumblr lmao..

Anyways, I kinda wanna hear y'alls theorys, I may make a story off of this theory because I'm bored 😇

[hopefuloverfury]

What song/genre of music do you think of when you imagine the bachelor/ettes? If there was a specific artist or band for Sam, who do you think they'd be?

Oooh—I actually have thought about this! I have a playlist just for when I'm writing blurbs about the stardew valley characters, and no I don't care if any of these are predictable because I think they're accurate lmfao.

Sam

2014 Five Seconds of Summer, Shawn Mendes, and Why Don't We. His general vibe is young, reckless love. If there's a specific song in mind, I think of him as a mix between 5sos' End Up Here, She Looks So Perfect, If I Can't Have You by Shawn, and Why Don't We's Fallin' (Adrenaline)

Seb

I think he's a mix between 5sos' Voodoo Doll, Troye Sivan's Strawberries and Cigarettes, Taylor Swift's Style, and the last 90-ish seconds of Sleep Token's The Summoning. Also Conan Gray's Overdrive. He's still young and reckless, but he's a little more subdued and all over the place.

Alex

One Directions' Steal My Girl, Shawn Mendes' Wonder, and Harry Styles' Watermelon Sugar. Even though they're pretty heavy with gendered language, I have no issue imagining Alex with varying farmers while listening to these songs.

Elliott

His love definitely swerves more toward obsession and worship, so anything by Hozier, no question about it. But also Can't Take My Eyes Off You by Frank Valli is heavy Elliott energy.

Shane

Everybody Wants You by Johnny Orlando, Someone To You by BANNERS, DogBird by Madds Buckley, and Lauv's I Like Me Better. Like Seb, Shane's pretty all over the place as well. Also he makes me cry ahaha. hm.

Harvey

Harvey gave me a little bit of trouble when I first started writing. I had to think about him quite a bit to land on a genre/song for him. Anyway, Ophelia by The Lumineers, Ready Now by dodie, and The Way You Look Tonight by Michael Bublé are all Harvey coded. END ME

Maru

In My Mind by Lyn Lapid, Bubble Gum by Clairo, and Space Girl by Frances Forever. I imagine her as a pretty inexperienced and romantically repressed character (I wonder why Demetrius) so all of these songs have a certain level of melancholy about them, which is very Maru for me.

Penny

She by dodie, Conan Gray's Heather, and Lonely by Noah Cyrus. Repressed, just like Maru, but for different reasons. Never had the opportunity to really live her life, you know? Lots of insecurities and feelings of inadequacy my poor babie nO but I usually only listen to those when I'm feeling a little down. You can trust that I don't always write angst for her, and when I don't, it's loooots of early Taylor Swift.

Haley

Sabrina Carpenter. That's it. lmao no i'm kidding Diamonds Are Forever, Nonsense, Looking At Me, and Girlfriend by Bea Miller. I love me a mean, confident lesbian, but she does soften up the more you get to know her, and I always listen to Isabel LaRosa's I'm Yours when I want to go that route with her. I also think of her when I listen to Dress by Charlotte Sands.

Abigail

Very punchy, "powerful woman" type songs. Namely UPSAHL's People I Don't Like, Beautiful is Boring by BONES UK, and American Horror Show by SNOW WIFE. She has opinions and she's going to let you know what she thinks—but make no mistake, she is a loyal and good person to her core. She's just got an attitude sometimes.

Leah

Cosmic Love by Florence + The Machines, Light My Love by Greta Van Fleet, and Constellations by The Oh Hellos. She's got a certain whimsy about her, but she's still a very grounded individual. She and Elliott have a similar vibe to each other, but where he's the smell of salty sea spray and plum juice dripping from your fingers, she's frayed picnic blankets and the smell of grass after it rains.

Emily

Now this might be controversial, but Señorita by Shawn Mendes and Camila Cabello is always gonna make me think of her. I'm Born To Run by American Authors, Enchanted by Taylor Swift (her version, obviously), are also both some of the easiest songs for me to think about her. She definitely believes in soulmates and fate, and probably makes jewelry or sews while thinking about you.