#he would like to get into building and fixing electronics but he is unfortunately very flammable

[brupara]

New lad alert! he/they/it pronouns, his voice sounds like a squeaky toy and he uses ASL. Been rotating both moths and clowns in my mind a lot lately and finding out about plushfurs recently pushed me to do something about it lol. I was particularly inspired by @cringeclown! His designs are so fun and lovely and I really like his use of patterns. :>

[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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[unhingedexperimenter]

Amazo Guy didn't look very impressed with Hyde. "Surrender right now and you won't be as humiliated. Don't make this anymore difficult for yourself." He had to stay calm. Stay calm and somehow escape from the intimidating hero. "I'm afraid I can't do that. You see. I just found the perfect trinket for myself. It would be a downright shame if I just gave it up now." Hyde went to place the carving within his bag. Planning on using one of his bottles against the hero. Though he wasn't quite fast enough for that as Amazo Guy with incredible speed had taken hold of Hyde's hand. Quickly taking the stolen object from the criminal. Crap. He wasn't prepared for that. It was like his encounter with the other hero he's faced. Amazo Guy had super speed just like her. "Hyde! Just forget the loot and get out of there!" Henry's pleading went ignored though. "You're fast and muscular. Though I have to admit the costume style is strange. It looks like you're wearing your underwear on the outside." That earned him an annoyed glare from Amazo Guy. "I won't let you or anyone else get away with crimes. You will not distract me from that." Of course he would be so serious. Not taking any of Hyde's nonsense. This made Henry feel even more panicked, envisioning them locked up in a cell. The carving was snatched away in a rough manner. Though when Amazo Guy took the stolen item back, his face became pale. Looking as if he were hit with fatigue as well. Letting go of the villain wannabe and taking a couple steps back. "What is this? Is this a weird way of trying to get me to surrender myself? Well too bad! I am not falling for it!" He had an uncertain grin on his face. The hero didn't answer him back. His head was spinning faster and faster by the moment. It was as if all the power in his body got zapped away. Feeling oh so weak. His vision became dark as well, breathing heavily as he glared at Hyde with an angry expression. "That... that was your trap. Wasn't it?" There was silence for a moment as the other took a moment to process what was happening. Wanting to take advantage of the situation and making himself look even better for the others to see, Hyde went along with this. "Yes! It was planned! I knew you were going to do that. You just secured my escape, tights. Thank you so much for that." Henry was honestly confused. Hyde didn't do a thing to Amazo Guy yet he could barely keep himself standing up. His eyes landed on the item in the hero's hand. That must've been it! That was affecting him somehow. "Okay, get going now. While you can!" Hyde rolled his eyes at that. "No. I came here to give them a show. To impress them. That's exactly what I'm going to do. They'll have to accept me after this." He fixed his signature grin, walking towards the weakened hero with newfound confidence. That was a huge mistake. Amazo Guy in an effort to get away, backed himself against a glass case. Causing it to shatter and the alarms to go off. This caused a chain reaction to go off. Glass shards went everywhere. One particular piece of glass had gotten lodged in an electronic device. It had begun to smoke and cause a tiny fire which in turn made the fire alarms go off. The sprinklers were activated and soaked everyone. The water unfortunately melted away the foam the employee had been trapped in. They ran away in a panic. They ran right into the wall, which contained a shelf which was filled with various heavy items. The shelf was knocked loose from that, making each item fall and land right on the hero's head. Amazo Guy was unconscious, on the floor now. Hyde stood over him, examining the damage that was inflicted on the other. “Ouch. That looks quite painful.” He didn't realize that they had heard what happened but didn't quite see the unfortunate chain reaction happening. Hearing the whole commotion and rushing into the building to see what on earth just happened. They had found Hyde standing over Amazo Guy, one of the items in his hands. He was trying to remove it from him. Hyde took a moment to realize that they were inside with him now.

(You can tag me on my tgs side blog. I also apologize but I know a few Scottish words. So to anyone reading this I apologize for the inaccuracy.) Becky Boxleitner noticed a change in the atmosphere as she and her pet monkey Bob walked into the sixth grade classroom. All of the students were excitedly chatting with one another. Becky and Bob exchanged confused looks at the scene. 'What is going on?' They both thought. Becky walked to where her friends Violet Heaslip, Rose Franklin, and Todd Scoops Ming were sitting, also joining in the excited yet low volume chattering. "Hey guys what's going on?" Becky asked her friends. They each turned their heads to greet their friend. "Hey Becky guess what, we're getting a new teacher for our class!" Scoops exclaimed. Becky looked surprised at the announcement. Bob also mimicked her facial expression. "Wait really? What happened to Miss Davis?" Becky asked, wondering what happened to their old teacher. It was just a week only into the new school year so a sudden teacher exchange was a complete shock to Becky especially since there were no announcements about it beforehand. "Miss Davis had to move back home because of a family emergency." Rose Franklin answered. "The principal had to scramble to find a new teacher to fill in for our class. It was all last minute stuff." Becky nodded in understanding of her friends' answers. It was a nice perk to be friends who were upcoming reporters. Soon the final bell rang which indicated for every student to take their seats. Becky took her place beside her best friend Violet and Bob plopped down next to her. Soon a man who looked to be in his mid 30s walked in and towards the desk. He had curly brown air, an arched nose, and reddish brown eyes. He wore a tan button-down shirt with a red vest as well as brown slacks and dark suede shoes. The man gave a pleasant and warm smile to all the students there. "Hello my name is Dr. Henry Jekyll and I will be your teacher for the school year." Becky and the other kids ears perked up as they took note of the man's accent. Even Tobey became slightly interested in his new teacher. None of them were sure where their new teacher was from. Dr. Jekyll gave a light chuckle as if he could sense their growing curiosity about him. He lightly clapped his hands together to gain their undivided attention and focus. "Well since this is my first time teaching here, why don't we all play a little game so we can all get better acquainted with each other. Here's what to do. One at a time, say your name and share a wee bit about yourself. Likes, family, interests and all that. I'll go first to show ya what ah mean. Again. My name is Dr. Henry Jekyll. I was born in Glasgow but ah moved to London where I attended university. I have a five year old wee lassie or daughter named Amber. I enjoy chemistry and reading on occasions. Now who would like to go next?" @unhingedexperimenter

Of course Tobey had taken the opportunity to place attention on himself and to have a reason to boast about himself. “My name is Tobey McCallister the third and I will be the most intelligent student you'll meet here.” The others had rolled their eyes, used to this kind of behavior from their peers. Becky seemed to be the most annoyed by it. Having been forced to put up with his destructive tantrums in the past. Henry smiled just as warmly as before. Unbothered by the obnoxious behavior that the boy had been displaying. Tobey had been going on about himself for a good few minutes before the teacher finally spoke up. “Ahem, yes. Thank you for that Mr. McCallister. Would anyone else like to tell me a bit about themselves as well?” No one could tell that behind the facade, Dr. Henry Jekyll was becoming more irritated by the moment. Not by the child but by the pest that refused to leave him be. Scoffing within his head at what they just heard. He didn't share the disembodied voice's opinion but wanted to give the other children a chance to introduce themselves as well. To the others' shock, Tobey seemed to have taken this well. Quickly going back to his desk with no issues. Becky was relieved at that. Soon the other children had started to introduce themselves to their new teacher with little to no issues. He seemed genuinely nice enough to her. This new teacher didn't seem like most of the adults within this city. Some she had to define words repeatedly for. Dr. Jekyll knew what he was teaching and knew his vocabulary. It was Violet who had brought Becky out from her own thoughts, calling her name. Waving a hand in front of her face. “Becky?” The girl smiled in an embarrassed manner. “Huh? Yes?” Violet smiled, patient with her best friend. “Why don't you introduce yourself now? Nearly everybody else already did.” She had given a surprised expression. Becky hadn't realized that she was so lost within her thoughts until then. She stood up and began speaking. “My name is Becky Boxleitner and I also like libraries,reading and Pretty Princess.” The presence that was grating at the teacher's nerves had deemed this too dull to enjoy. Leaving Dr. Jekyll be to his teaching. Well, getting to know his students. He was happy to see that they were engaged in these activities that were meant to break the ice. Though one student in particular had caught his attention the most. Becky. While she did seem rather bright, there was something strange about her behavior at times. Pausing whatever she was doing at the time to listen in on something. Thinking it went unnoticed. Even once looking alarmed and she made an excuse to go to the bathroom. He had allowed it. Feeling that it would've been better to have let her. It seemed…oddly familiar. As if he had seen that behavior somewhere before but couldn't figure out exactly where from. When the school day was finally over, Becky had gone to go home like the others. Dr. Jekyll had of course stayed behind to set more things up within his new classroom. Making a plan on exactly what he'll actually start teaching the next day. Though, the grating voice had returned to be a thorn in his side. “Come on. Leave this boring stuff alone. Leave it until tomorrow. I've been pent up for far too long. Let's have some fun.” This had earned an eye roll and a loud huff from the teacher. “No, I've got to get this done now. You will have enough time tonight. Just be patient until then.” A shadowy figure formed in front of Dr. Jekyll. A frown on its face. “But this is so extremely dull. I want to stretch my legs. I want to make myself known already.” Dr. Jekyll glared. “And that is precisely why I'm so hesitant to let you out so soon. At least let us get acclimated to our surroundings first.” The figure let out an annoyed groan. “You know you want this as much as I do. Otherwise you'd never have any actual fun in the sad and pathetic life you call yours.”

@thecountoflondonfansite

[itsany62]

SteveTony - Getting Together

Here are some Getting Together fics that I adore. Don't forget to leave kudos and nice comments in every fic!

Lovesick, by royal_chandler, 3 k >, fluff.

The depth of the flu aisle in the pharmacy is substantial, overwhelmingly so, and Steve is half-convinced he needs to return to the front and trade his basket for a full-on cart.

There's a Party Going on Right Here, by Annie D (scaramouche), Post-Endgame.

After the Battle of Earth, Tony hosts a party.

Open Tab , by machi_kun , 5k> words, Post-Avengers 2012.

Tony has a lot of money. Really. More money he could possibly ever spend by himself. So what if he spends some of it buying gifts for his friends? People like gifts! And Steve is his friend. His best friend, actually, inside the Avengers, and he’s glad it turned out this way - so it’s also a way of saying 'thanks for putting up with me', he thinks. He just wants Steve to be happy. If Tony can make him happy, then why wouldn’t he? Tony buying Steve gifts is no big deal. Shut up, Rhodey.

(Pretty) Odd, by machi_kun, 5 k> words, Developing Relationship, Fluff.

In his file, Tony Stark had been described as eccentric. He had also been described as a narcissist, as a self-destructive liability, as not-recommended, and all sort of fancy words that are used to disguise the fact that they were calling him an all-around asshole; And that’s a very long list of bad adjectives, for a guy Steve saw carry a nuke behind his back to save the city, gave them a place to stay, and is slowly showing himself to be one of the most curious people Steve has ever met. Maybe Tony Stark is eccentric – and maybe he is a bit of an asshole. But maybe he’s also more than that.

Six Times DUM-E Made It Worse (and One Time He Fixed It) by FestiveFerret, 4 k > words, Outsider POV.

DUM-E has a lot of Very Important jobs to do, and he does his best to do them right. Sometimes, though, things don't work out very well.

All he wants is for his humans to be happy.

Sweet Child O' Mine by starspangledsprocket, 9 k > words, Age Regression/De-Aging, Fluff.

After just their second outing as the Avengers, everyone except for Steve and Tony are turned into toddlers. Madness ensues.

'Cause Everytime We Touch by Perlmutt, 5 k > words, Touch-Starved.

Steve noticed it the first time they were officially introduced at Fury’s office after the battle of New York.

He extended his hand for a handshake, a silent peace offer after their horrible first meeting at the helicarrier almost a week ago. Stark looked at it like it would bite him any second. Steve could see how his hands twitched where he’d buried them in his pockets. But instead of taking his hand, he stared into his eyes for a moment and nodded before turning back to Fury.

Only later would Steve learn that it wasn’t hatred or aversion.

how the thought of you does things to me by Finduilas, 6 k > words, Mutual Pining, Domestic Avengers.

Steve has a thing for Tony's butt. Tony has a thing for Steve's beard. They're both very obvious about it (just ask any of their friends!), but somehow they manage to also be completely oblivious.

Right here waiting by gottalovev, 19 k > words, Cat Dads.

Steve has been missing Tony like crazy since he left the compound. One day, Steve drops in unannounced at the tower, and when on a walk for coffee they rescue newborn kittens.

Or: A yearning Steve, an oblivious Tony, and co-parenting kittens. (= fuff!)

picture perfect (picture us) by starklystar, 18 k > words, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Photo Shoots.

Tony has a habit of being handsy during photoshoots.

Steve has a habit of being flustered whenever Tony touches him.

Misunderstandings happen.

Or, five times Steve and Tony went to a photoshoot

+ the one time they had better things to do.

++ the one time they take their photoshoot online.

take me out (to the ball game) by muItifandomjess, 1 k > words, Fluff.

“Take me out to the ball game, take me out with the crowd,” Steve sings, his shoulder bumping into Tony’s as he sways back and forth. “Come on, Tony, sing!”

“I am a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist,” Tony protests around a mouthful of hot dog. “I do not sing.”

Or, Steve and Tony go to a ball game. It all kind of snowballs from there.

Drifting Further Everyday by GotTheSilver, 8 k > words, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier.

Steve’s quiet a lot of the time, it’s almost like living with a ghost, and Tony kind of hates it; he lives with more than enough actual ghosts every day. The longer time goes on, the more Tony recognises what’s going on, sees the jumpiness, the haunted look on his face, and he gets it. Realises they’re both trying to bury things they don’t want to talk about. More often than not, Tony turns around in the workshop to see Steve sitting there, patiently working on something in his sketchbook or reading an actual book, usually something he missed during the years he was frozen.

Somehow Steve is filling all the gaps in his life Tony didn’t realise he needed filling.

Goop, Or Five Times Steve Rogers Was Covered In... Something, And One Time Tony Was by Bill_Longbow, 7 k > words, Mutual Pining.

There were a lot of things Steve had expected about the future; sleek buildings, sleeker electronics, and all the food you can eat. Being covered in alien goop wasn't one of them.

or

How Steve being covered in... stuff, brings Tony and Steve closer.

The art of longing by itsallAvengers, 63 k > words, Oblivious Tony, Not Actually Unrequited Love.

Steve's used to missing his shot. To being too late, too scared, and losing everything. But he really did think that this time, with Tony, something could work.

Then Tony meets Mark. He's cool and charming, he's a scientist and he's perfect for a man like Tony Stark.

And suddenly Steve...

Well. Steve just doesn't have a place anymore

earth laughs in flowers by starksnack, 3 k > words, Love Confessions, Secret Admirer.

A secret admirer has been sending Tony flowers and confessions of love.

Crash Into You by FestiveFerret, 15 K > words, Post-Avengers (2012), Stranded.

Tony was pretty used to crashing.

It seemed like these days more often than not his return to earth in the Iron Man suit was at least somewhat out of control. He couldn't count the number of times he'd used a helpfully situated building, a local landmark, or, hey, even a teammate to slow a wild descent. And he'd be damned if he'd admit it to Pepper, but on more than one occasion he hadn't even been conscious when he'd hit the ground.

So crashing wasn't really a new experience. He would get banged up a bit, maybe put a scratch in the suit somewhere, but bruised ribs healed and there was no better way to work off the post-battle high than smoothing dents out of his most prized possession.

He had a feeling crashing in the Quinjet, without his armour, was going to be a bit different..

I like me better (when I'm with you) by I_write_things_sometimes, 79 k > words, Domestic Avengers, Friends to Lovers.

If you ask either of them how they got together, they'd go back to an unremarkable night filled with expensive food, rich donors, and lots of schmoozing. And, of course, the anxiety attack that started it all.

"Not recognizing someone was strange enough, but the longer the two men spoke with — or, more accurately at — Tony, the more convinced Steve was that the conversation was unwanted, at least on Tony’s part.

The first clue was that Tony was actively leaning away from the men he was talking to. Steve had learned firsthand that Tony was an incredibly tactile person. When he wanted to talk to you, Tony engaged completely; he’d sling his arm around your shoulders, squeeze your arm, or drag you around as he talked, walked and usually did at least two other things. Even when he argued, Tony was often immediate and in his opponent's space; Steve knew that from experience.

Right now? Tony was scanning the outskirts of the room rather than making eye contact with the men near him. If Steve had to guess, Tony was looking for the nearest exit."

Or, the way Steve Rogers and Tony Stark became friends and then more.

Mission SteveTony by itsallAvengers, 7 k > words, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Steve Rogers.

If the entire team of Avengers could please stop trying to get it on with Tony when Steve is right there, he would really appreciate that, thank you

you'll wait a long time by nanasekei, 16 k > words, Pining, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie).

Steve and Tony share a moment during a wedding. Things escalate from there.

-

Alternatively: Four weddings, a funeral, and one very emotionally stunted idiot.

The Game by FestiveFerret, 5 k > words, Gay Chicken.

The game starts when Tony walks into the garage to find Steve sitting astride the R1200RS, staring down at his phone, and he maybe, just a little bit, walks into a car.

Talking Bodies by itsallAvengers, 13 k > words, Misunderstandings, Insecure Steve Rogers.

Coincidentally, the physical effects of romantic and sexual desire match up very closely with the physical effects of fear. But it's not a problem-- it's not like anyone is going to be able to hear the way your heart speeds up, or see the minute dilation of your pupils, are they? They'd have to be some sort of Superhuman to do that.

And what's worse than a Superhuman hearing that quick pulse and seeing those dilated eyes and concluding that you're in love with them?

A Superhuman hearing that quick pulse and seeing those dilated eyes and thinking you're terrified of them.

more than just a dream. by frostfall, 10 k > words, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Parent Tony Stark.

Tony: Fine.

Tony: I think I might.

Tony: Just might.

Tony: Have a teensy-weensy crush.

Peter: ;)

Peter: Is it who I think it is?

Tony: Unfortunately, yes.

Tony: You happy now?

(Peter thinks he's found the perfect partner for his dad. Tony thinks his son has officially lost his mind. Steve's just oblivious to the fact that he's out of Tony's league.)

don’t want you to get it on (with nobody else but me). by frostfall, 4 k > words, Jealous Steve Rogers, The Pocky Game.

There are a lot of things that Steve doesn’t get about the future. But it’s fine. He will, eventually. He has time.

But one thing he knows is that he’ll never, ever be able to wrap his head around is the fanfare surrounding Pocky.

(Or Steve’s jealous of biscuit sticks.)

check yes (if the feeling isn't new) by cvptains, 12 k > words, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Meddling.

After the battle with Thanos, both Tony and Steve struggle with reconnecting in certain aspects of their lives. Sam Wilson and Peter Parker are totally over it.

Where both Steve and Tony's respective friends make accounts for them on the renowned dating app, FlickLove, and the results come out a bit... surprising. Cue unadvisable meddling that really — honestly — comes from good intentions.

take my heart clean apart by mistymountainking, 13 k > words, Tony Stark Has Self-Esteem Issues.

He’s tired, so tired of waiting, tired of touches with no meaning, tired of holding his breath when Steve’s in the room, tired of keeping this love to himself.

“I can’t—I can’t, if you don’t mean it.”

***

Tony comes home exhausted after an SI event. Steve acts as welcoming committee. It's an old, careworn routine they've perfected over the years, but tonight ends up going in a very different direction.

[pyroclaststan]

Does Kingsley have a story of how or why they started vigilanting?

Yes! They do! And I’m still gonna answer your other questions as well, once I’m done with wild work hours.

Kingsley was homeless for a long time after their first escape, hiding in grime and staying with others who were left homeless or to live in the ruined areas of the city. They were specifically going under a different name at the time: a traumatic one but the only one they could think of. They were specifically set up with a group of three: a very kind man named Felix who thought they reminded him of his daughter, another kind man named José who was blind, and the dog they kept with them. They had a pretty secluded spot under an old overpass, and they all worked to maintain it and take care of it. King’s telepathy and the dog, Angel, were very good at picking up when folks were coming around (for good or bad) or for deterring folks. They’d salvage electronics and Kingsley would spend time fixing them up, learning pretty fast and enjoying something they could put their hands on, and panhandling with new success since their newest member joined. Kingsley was very content with them and learned more social aspects to surviving, growing a little softer over time as they kindly teased about how uptight King could be. Felix assumed Kingsley was a teen left homeless or orphaned, or who’d run away from home. He constantly encouraged them to think about going to school, like to college for engineering or something like that—he thought they were too smart, too well-raised to stay with them in the streets. One of the old buildings they’d all go to to visit other friends and trade things among their community happened to also be a hiding spot for a local villain, which no one knew, and Kingsley couldn’t pick up with the sheer amount of people and minds in the building. Unfortunately, they also didn’t pick up on the angry thoughts coming over in time, and it’s turns out that villain had pissed off someone else in the city who attacked the entirety of the building. There were fires, collapsing, ash and smoke. Kingsley got out by chasing Angel’s thoughts and waited for Felix and José to come stumbling out along with the many others fleeing the building. They were about to rush back in before they were blocked by the back of a young hero who pushed them away, and on the scene with him were two other Rangers, already taking off to get to work.

It was Charge, Sentinel, and Hood who’d had arrived a little too late, but set to evacuating and stabilising the building before it collapsed. Kingsley was only able to watch everything unfold as the lightning patterned one pushed them back out and told them to wait. Minutes, then hours passed and their friends never came back out. It was just Kingsley and Angel, alone with the others who survived and hung around hoping their friends made it out too. It was an utter defeat, and one of Kingsley’s first experiences with personal loss and it left them with a bitterness and a rage at the people who’d caused it, whoever they were. Feeling all that fear and desperation was heavy in ways they weren’t prepared to experience but it made them angrier than anything else. That others could and would do such things, not caring about who else would get caught in the crossfire: they had specifically been taught that you only go after the right people, but this was senseless. So it occurred to them that maybe those were the kind of people they should have been being used against.

They went back to their encampment to pack up what they needed and to give away everything they didn’t when they found a box under Felix’s bed that had a note with Kingsley’s fake name. He’d been saving money with José to send them to some kind of school, to get them a bus ticket to get back out East. Kingsley took Angel to a shelter, and headed off into the city with their new resolve and motivation: get back at those kind of people, who take and kill and don’t care what happens to innocents. Those funds went to their first hero suit, and it was a little while before they learned who that was that saved them. They never met Hood, they realised who Sentinel was later. They never said a word of it.

[sirfrogsworth]

Toilet Talk feat. The HandyFrog

In other news, I changed my toilet seat. 

My previous seat kept wiggling left and right. Like... a lot. This was very disconcerting when I had to take a sleepy, middle-of-the-night trip to the little frog’s room and forgot that it wiggles. I don’t know about you, but having a bull riding sensation is not what I want when I am half awake and trying to drop some kids off at the pool. 

After disassembly, I finally figured out why it wiggled. There was this weird gel-like plug that went into the attachment holes. It forced the bolts to stay centered and kept them from moving around. One of those gel plug thingies was missing. No idea where it went. So the bolt would just move freely and give me seasickness during my... me time. 

The broken seat was actually harder to remove than the new one was to put on. The previous WiggleButt 3000 was overcomplicated and poorly designed. I made sure to buy a new one that had simple installation. And I found one that specifically advertised NO WIGGLING. The new attachment method was incredibly simple and quite clever. And their marketing doesn’t seem to be misleading as I don’t see any way it could potentially shift like the old one. After some twisting of the ol’ Philips head my throne repair mission was accomplished. 

Even though it was stupid simple to install I am still going to add this to my handyman credentials. 

HandyFrog +5. 

Since my dad got sick, I’ve been fixing quite a few things around here in the last year or so. I changed out two faucet handles (+20), I unclogged a shower drain and two sinks (+15), and I engineered and installed a custom rotating television mount for my parents’ TV (+40). 

My biggest feat of handyprowess was repairing my dishwasher. The latch on the soap dispenser broke so I had to place the soap pod thingie on the top rack and just hope soap got on everything. It seemed to get things clean, but it left soap residue on all of my dishes and that was getting annoying. So after some detective work tracking down model numbers and part numbers and finding what I needed at a reasonable price, I ordered the parts and watched some repair videos. 

It took a week or so to build up the courage to replace the dispenser myself. I got a quote from a repair dude and he wanted like $200. I could almost buy half of a new dishwasher for that. I don’t know if they sell half-dishwashers, but that would look silly and I wasn’t going to have any silly business in my kitchen.

So it was up to me. 

Unfortunately, due to the design of the dishwasher, this operation required dismantling the entire door. What I didn’t know was the dishwasher in the repair video was a slightly different model than I had. My dishwasher had a digital display and other electronics inside the door. So when I tried to remove the front panel of the door and set it aside like he did in the video, I discovered it was permanently attached to some wires. So I had to balance the door on some pillows and lean it against a trash can I weighed down. (I’m quite the problem solver.) And I had to work inside the small space between that precariously balanced front panel and the interior of the door. That was a fun difficulty multiplier I wasn’t expecting.  

Then I discovered that one of the two wired connections for the old soap dispenser was hopelessly fused in place. The first one just unplugged with no issue. But the other one was super stuck. Not to get too technical, but it was this white plastic doohickey piece that two wires terminated into and it wouldn’t budge even when pulling on it with pliers. The guy in the video just yanked them out with his fingers like it was nothing. He did not prepare me for this eventuality! 

However, the ends of the wires had these metal circle thingies crimped on and they inserted into the white plastic doohickey. I could just pull out the metal circle thingies. EASY! 

But the metal circle thingies were also stuck. UGH! 

Then I figured out I could uncrimp the bare wires from the metal circle thingies... and this was the breakthrough epiphany I needed to prevent a full on panic attack. I could just leave the old white doohickey AND the old circle thingies attached! I then inserted just the bare wires from the new dispenser and crimped them in place with a needle nose pliers. Brilliant, right?! I was like a goddamn electrician with this problem-solving.

If you couldn’t visualize any of that just know it was a whole thing and very stressful and somehow I had barrrrely enough knowledge to create a workaround and hook everything up properly. I ended up with a spare white doohickey and metal circle thingie, but if you don’t have spare parts at the end you are one of those pesky direction followers and no one likes people who follow directions. 

I will say by this point I may have cried twice, cursed various gods, and kept screaming in my head, “THIS DIDN’T HAPPEN TO THE REPAIR DUDE IN THE VIDEO!” But, as problems kept popping up, I used my resourcefulness and weighted trash cans to find a solution. As one does.

One embarrassing thing I forgot to do... turn off the breaker. 

Despite working with wires and connections and different electronic components, none of that caused an issue. But when I was just finishing up and trying to maneuver the front panel back onto the door, I grabbed a very unassuming, very safe looking part at the top... and shocked the hell out of my hand. 

I made a mental note... “Don’t touch that.” 

But the panel was being very stubborn and I was balancing it on my foot and trying to angle it back into the slots and I almost dropped it and to catch it I instinctively grasped that same damn spot. Electric shock number 2. 

DON’T. TOUCH. THAT.

I still didn’t think to turn off the breaker at this point--even with my hand tingling. I think I had tunnel vision and could only see the repair finish line approaching and was just desperate to get the thing done and I was unable to think about something silly like personal safety. 

Finally, the door cooperated and it all slotted into place and just as the two sections were joining together that same friggin spot brushed against my arm. Electric shock the third. 

HEY, ME! WOULD YOU STOP TOUCHING THAT?

I screwed it all back together, ran a test load to make sure I didn’t ruin my dishwasher...  and it worked perfectly. Clean sparkly dishes with no more residue!

The pride I felt in completing that insane repair far outweighed my still tingling hand. 

HandyFrog +100.

Heart Lifespan -10. 

I’m essentially a contractor at this point. 

[maemi324]

Black Coffee

Hey there friends! It’s been a while hasn’t it? Today i come at you with a new piece for a new My Hero character! Well new to me writing him.  Here we have....Villain Deku! Inspired by this tiktok! https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMJUywn9t/ it just screamed Villain Deku to me. This is my first time writing him, so if he seems a little OOC, that’s probably it.  Here are some songs I listened to while writing this 1. headless waltz- Voltaire 2. Don’t go by the river- Voltaire 3.House of Myth, Such horrible things, Gorey Demise, Grave Robber, Greatest Show Unearthed, Aim for the head, Buried Alive- Creature Feature 4. Spooky Halloween Mashup, Syndicate: Underground- Cover by Peter Hollens. Warnings: Robbery, Guns, violence, let me know if theres more I need to tag please! Only edited by me, so I’ve probably missed some stuff! With that! Let’s get into it!

Dawning light streamed in through the windows, the scent of coffee heavy in the air, steam from the hot drink you made rising softly. Soft music flowed through the room, other employees taking the chairs off the tables and whipping them down. 

You sipped your drink, your eyes barely staying open as you leaned against the counter.  It was far too early to be awake. Pain flashed through your mouth as you reluctantly swallow, your tongue protesting not only being burned but the now cool air that touched it. 

It was too early for your own nonsense. 

As the sun rose in the sky customers began their daily migration to the bean and leaf juice they all craved. Thankfully it was still rather early, only a handful showing up, and even fewer deciding to take a seat and enjoy their purchases. 

“I can help whoever’s next?” you call out, closing the cash register and looking up to the new customer with a bright smile. 

Bright viridian eyes stared back into your (e/c) colored ones, ones that you hadn’t seen in a very long time, since middle school in fact, his green hair cementing just who he was. Recognition dawned in his eyes. 

“Y/N?” “Midoriya?” 

A surprised laugh bubbled up, catching you by surprise, “I haven’t seen you in months- years even!” a short glare from your manager got you ready to enter in his order. Taking a peek behind him you saw that the line had lengthened considerably. “Y-yeah, it has been quite a while hasn’t it?” He stated his order, as you typed it in and gave him the total amount. He must have been pretty tired still as he stared into your eyes. You waved a hand in front of him, snapping him out of his daze as his face flushed a deep red, frantically digging his hand into his pockets to fish out his wallet- where had the damn thing gone- oh it was in his hand already. 

Even after all these years, Midoriya was still just as much of a spaz as he’d always been. He moves to the drink pick up location, leaning against the counter as you made his drink. “I wish I had more time to talk, but with the line growing…” 

“Well What if I came back later today? Or tomorrow?”  You prepped the cup, adding a drizzle of caramel to the sides, offering him a kind smile

“Yeah, I’d like that,” 

You handed him his drink and sent him off with a wave. A disgruntled Karen decided to ring the service bell as you hadn’t jumped back to take her order. 

Why did it have to be a Karen?

Unfortunately you were unable to see him later on that day.

However, just as you turned the sign from closed to open that next morning, you were surprised to see those same bright eyes aimed at you. 

“Well, you’re here quite early” you teased, opening the door for him as you walked in. It would be a while yet before people came into the little shop. He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes looking tired with circles under his eyes, “It’s been a long night,” He laughed off your look of concern, “Just work, nothing too terrible! I just thought I’d swing by earlier before I had to get back to it” 

Your coworkers paid no mind as the two of you walked to the counter as you made him and yourself a drink, taking a seat at one of the tables. No one was here and wouldn’t be here for a good half an hour. 

“So tell me, how have things been? Is your mom alright?” 

“Huh? Oh! Yeah she’s doing fine, still at the same place! She’s retired now actually” “Oh, good for her! I hope she’s enjoying it” you sipped at your coffee, thanking just about everything that you didn’t burn your tongue in front of him. 

“But what about you Midoriya? Last I checked you were wanting to become a hero?” While it would have been hard to be a quirkless hero, It wasn’t impossible. It probably wouldn’t get you ranked in the top five or even the top twenty, but so long as you were a good hero, what did rank matter? 

His eyes shifted from contentment to something a bit more sad, a deep sadness that surprised you. Just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, a hesitant laugh served as a cover. “Well, I did try, but eventually I just gave up. It just hit me that no matter how much I worked, I’d just be in the way of the pros. I could do some things sure, but...it’s not...it wasn’t enough. So I took a step back and found myself getting into computers, fixing them up, making sure they’re running properly. It’s...It’s nice” 

You place a hand over his, an overwhelming urge to comfort him raced down your bloodstream. His hand jolts at the sudden touch, but he doesn’t bat your hand away. “I always believed you’d make an incredible hero” it made you feel guilty that you hadn’t been there for him when he clearly needed someone, anyone even just to listen to as his one and only dream crashed around him. 

“I know you did, I appreciate it (Y/N),” he offers you a more content smile, “But I’m happy where I am now, really! Plus if I was a hero, I might not have met up with you again” 

You let go of his hand, though not before he gives it a gentle squeeze, picking up your drink and taking another sip. 

“I’m glad to see you're happy though, you said you were fixing computers?”

“Yeah! It’s not a big thing really, just a little repair shop. Clients bring me their various electronics, I clean them and fix them up! It can be really challenging sometimes, especially when it’s an older model! I swear I’ve seen some that I could have sworn were from the early nineties!” 

You listened as he rattled on about his clients, his eyes lit up, a subtle blush on his cheeks as he talked with his hands. More than once you had to back away from getting a straw to the eye, but you hardly minded. 

It became a regular thing, He’d come to the shop at various hours of the day, typically right at opening, on your break, or right as the last customer shifted out the door. You always had his favorite drink ready for him, though you had to fight him to keep him from paying. You didn’t mind after all, paying for his drink. He somehow always managed to sneak in the exact amount into your pockets or purse before he left, leaving you to discover it when he was far and unable to take it back.

The ass.

The more you met up the more open he became, you both talked about work and your grievances there. Now you were talking about anything and everything, TV shows you’d recently watched, movies you were excited to see, stupid stories about Karen's getting owned was a personal favorite. 

However His favorite happened to be the news. He was still hero obsessed as he’d always been. However, there was a more...critical insight into it. 

“Ugh” he huffed out, turning his attention from the TV, though muted, the subtitles were still on. It was currently showcasing Endeavor, how he rescued some civilians from a collapsing apartment building, from a disgruntled worker who had turned to villainy when kicked out of their apartment. They decided to take revenge on the landlord, though it quickly turned to chaos as the entire complex crumbled.

“What is it?” You paused from chewing on the straw to take a sip, “ is it Endeavor?” You knew damn well it was, but it was better to let him process through his words. “Yes! Look at him, smug as can be. He doesn’t even care about those people he rescued, He’s shown no comfort towards them, not even a glance to the children he’d saved. He acts as if he’s too good for them. A real hero would be reassuring, give a sense of calm to everyone involved in a rather tragic turn of events”  he sipped at his drink angrily, nearly choking on it as you patted his back.

“ You mean a hero like All Might?” you offered, knowing that the hero had a special place in his heart. 

Instead of the perky response you would have expected, his lips turned to a thin line, staring into a far off place beyond the TV.

“Yes....just like All Might” 

Figuring he was still going through the appalled emotions from Endeavor, you didn’t press the matter, turning to focus on something else, his latest client, or even a Karen you had encountered earlier that morning. He took your bait readily, eager to listen.

It took you awhile to notice, but during your lunch breaks, on the days he didn’t come in early, he would always be watching the news. He’d rip them to pieces with a barely concealed snarl. He’d rant and rave, while keeping in mind the other customers. He talked about the villains even, and how they were people as well, forced into unfortunate situations, where were the heroes then?

As much as you would have liked to stay in the hero worshiping normalcy, the more he went on the more you began to realize, heroes were actually rather corrupt. You could feel yourself becoming angry alongside him. Why did they do that? What about the people they were rescuing? What about these so-called villains?

You shook your head from your thoughts, looking down to see your next customer that afternoon, a young girl no more than ten years old just out of school and looking to buy a snack and a small drink. 

You sent her off on her merry way, happily sitting down at a table and munching on her snack. Checking your watch, you realized it was time to take your lunch. You sat down at your usual booth and waited for Izuku, sipping at your own drink.

The bell by the door went off, your eyes instinctively looking to see who had entered. Time slowed down as three men came in, guns at the ready and masks pulled over their faces. The first had a black mask, the second having a red one, and the third having a white one.

“Alright! Nobody moves, and no one gets hurt!” the first one shouted, as horrified shrieks went off in the small shop. “Put your hands up and go over there!” he motioned with his gun to collectively gather in a corner. You obeyed along with everyone else in the shop.

The second one aimed his gun steadily at the barista at the register, “No! Not you, you’re going to fill this with all the money you have!” He threw a bag over at the barista who shakily picked up the bag where it had landed, tears running down her cheeks. 

The third held out a bag to the gathered group, “ Put anything valuable in here! Watches, Jewelry, Money, Phones, all of it!” He shouted, an elderly woman shakily began taking off her earrings, another gentleman taking his wallet out. 

The young girl stared with wide eyes, tears falling rapidly down her cheeks, face red as she tried to be quiet, but her hiccups would not allow her. When red looked over at the little girl, her wails increased tenfold.

“Hey! Shut up before I give you a real reason to cry about. You don’t want that do you?!” he shouted, taking a step forward the girl took an extra step back as she put her arms out in front of her to protect herself.

“I said QUIET!” he raised his hand.

Your body moved on it’s own. 

You took the hit for the young girl, your cheek stinging from the impact. That didn’t matter, not over the safety of the little girl, the roar of your heartbeat thumping against your cheek.

“What the hell?!” “Just leave her alone! She’s a little girl, she’s just scared!” You held your arms out, effectively blocking her from view. The elderly woman took the girl to her side, watching for the slightest movement from the robbers.

“ So you want to take her punishment? Is that it brat? Fine,” He shoved you down to the ground easily, glancing over to the young girl, “Take this as an example of what happens when you disobey me!” 

You couldn’t hear anything, your sight blinded as well as his foot collided with your stomach, sending you rolling across the ground. He pinned you down as he punched you, over and over again, arms, stomach and your face, seeing stars as your head hit the ground.

Izuku...Izuku please....

You didn’t know what you wanted from him, whether it was to save you from the pain somehow, or to not show up at all in fear he’d try something heroic like you did. 

The shop doors burst open, a cloth or tape like substance shooting out from someone you couldn’t see, wrapping quickly around the robbers, dragging them to ram into one another, the shock of it making them let go of the guns they held so tightly onto. You faded in and out of consciousness, even though the sounds of battle continued on.

It was all a blur as you slowly came back into reality, sitting in an ambulance being checked over by a nurse. The other heroes who had arrived stood before you, scolding you for your actions.

“What were you thinking?! You put yourself and the girl at risk! They could have made you watch as they hurt her!” 

What was I supposed to do, let her be beaten?

“There were so many other things you could have done! Next time think through your actions before you do anything!”

What could I have done? You fail to mention what else I could exactly do. I didn’t even know what I was doing.

But you didn’t say that. You took the abuse as the nurse began to shoo them off, proclaiming that they’d made their point, nothing more could be said. It wasn’t long before the nurse gave you your results. You were a bit battered but otherwise alright, you’d bruise like hell but you amazingly didn’t have a concussion. Once you were home you were to Ice the bruising spots. With that they sent you with your things back home.

Upon entering your home you changed out of your clothes, something bubbling under your skin. It felt so up close and in your face you couldn’t decipher it. You changed into some incredibly soft shorts and tank top, wincing as you moved to change. 

The silence was too much in your apartment, with shaking fingers you called the only person you could.

“(Y/N)?” “Izuku..” something in you snapped as you heard his voice, a sharp gasp turning into a sob. “(Y/N)? What is it, what’s wrong?”  “I...Can...can you come over? Please? I...I don’t think I can over the phone”  “What? Yeah, Yeah of course, I’ll be right there!”  You gave him your address and hung up after that, flopping onto your couch and hugging a pillow.

It only took him twenty minutes to arrive, but it felt like forever and a second simultaneously. The swift knock at your door startled you out of your blank and racing thoughts. He was dressed in casual clothing, some jeans and some random white button up, a thin green vest over top. Your vision blurred as he stepped in at your allowance, going head first into his chest as you sobbed. He grunted from the impact, but wrapped his strong arms around you regardless. “ Shhh, shhh, it’s alright, I’m here. I’m here” he cooed softly into your ear, “ Here, let’s go to the couch alright?” You nodded but didn’t let go. You shuffled your way to sit on the couch with him, only parting to readjust his hold.

“There was an attempted robbery at the shop today,” you sniffed, resting your head on his shoulder, “ There was a little girl there...she was so scared, she was crying. The...one of the robbers got angry at her, which made her more scared. So I...I took the hit for her”

He lifted your face gently, examining the forming bruise. His frown showed his worry, but he didn’t comment on why you ran to this girls side, “ I was wondering about this black eye I see” You nodded, continuing your story, “Yeah...He didn’t like that I’d taken the hit for the girl...so as an example he beat me up. I don’t remember too much after the ‘heroes’ arrived.” you spat.

“But the heroes arrived and saved everyone, that’s good right?” he prodded. If you had been more aware, you would have heard the underlying tone in his voice. He didn’t really believe the heroes had done well, not with how you spat their name as if it was venom. 

“They told me i was stupid for putting myself in front of the girl, that I should have done something else! What else was I supposed to do? My body moved on it’s own! They could have tortured the girl to get a rise out of me, or hurt the both of us…” As you said those words, another sob tore from your core. “Maybe they were right, maybe I should have just...I don’t know. I’m so sorry I didn’t think of anything faster.”

Izuku cut you off gently cupping your face in his hands, thumbs softly brushing away stray tears. Your eyes refused to meet his.

“Oh darling, look at me,” hesitantly you looked into his eyes, filled with concern, determination and...something else you couldn’t quite place, but it was so soft...so powerful. “You’ve done nothing wrong, you are perfect darling. Without you, that girl could have ended up beaten, or worse!” 

The endearment was new, but not unwelcome, his words wrapping you in a soft blanket of safety.

“You did nothing wrong, you are perfect, everything about you, you’ve done nothing wrong. So please, don’t apologize” You leaned forward to hide in his chest as his words brought a fresh wave of tears. He gently rubbed your back, taking care if you so much as winced to move his comforting circles. 

“It isn’t right that they lectured you. You had just gone through a traumatic event, you needed reassurance, kindness. You aren’t trained to be a hero, you acted on instinct. An instinct that hardly anyone else in that room had. They acted so wrong to you” he whispered, “Those ‘heroes’ are what's wrong with the hero society as a whole. Things need to change”

“But I don’t know how to do that, or where to even start” you whined, your hiccups slowly dispersing. 

“Join me” 

Wait...what?

“Join you...I don’t...I don’t understand…” You look up at him, searching for any hint that it was a badly timed joke. You found none. 

“When I told you I worked with computers....I wasn’t lying, but only technically. You see, I work with this group, as a hacker. We’re going to show the world what these heroes really are, and the need to fix them. The roaches will have nowhere to hide, not from the public, and certainly not by the hero commission”

That was...quite a bit to process. He was a Villain?! All this time?! 

You were shocked, your heart sinking to your stomach. “Why...why didn’t you tell me?” You knew why the second you said the words...but you needed to hear if those were the same words he’d say back. 

“If I’m being honest darling...I was scared. You were always so kind, so soft hearted, to learn you were talking with a villain? Plus, it wasn’t like I could just...tell you in the shop right?” the corner of his mouth lifted up into a slight smirk, though it quickly vanished.

You thought back to today, how angry the heroes had made you. How many others did they tell the same thing when they were just trying to help? How many children paid the price? How many people? 

But the feeling of fists landing on you echoed back in your rapidly increasing heartbeat. You couldn’t do that again, not against a villain, not against heroes, not against anyone!

“I...I’m not cut out for villain work Izuku, you see what happened to me! I...I couldn’t go through that again...I don’t want to go through that again”

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, warmth blossoming from the spot. “You don’t have to, just...supporting me is enough, more than enough” he took your hands in his, gentle circles rubbed into them. “You wouldn’t have to quit your job, or move, or anything, just knowing you support me? It fires me up, I have to do this, for you, for everyone, to right the wrongs that have been done. What do you say?” his green eyes were lit up in hope.

Your hands squeezed his, “I do.”

[lo-55]

Tilt The Hourglass ch. 5

Maul’s mouth felt sticky. 

The tasted of fresh blood had soured into something far more disgusting by the time he opened his eyes and found himself looking up at the ceiling. 

A droid puttered to the side, one Maul didn’t recognize, changing out a trio of fluid bags. Their labels were fuzzy to his eyes, but he could recognize the colors faintly. Antibiotics, water, and painkillers. He had awareness enough to understand a needle in was his arm before the drip started and he was awash with warmth and the sensation of floating away. 

He dropped into dreams.

He was fifteen. Sidious grinned faintly, showing his straight human teeth. His hood obscured his eyes. "What happened on Orsis and aboard this station was not set in motion by my hand, Maul. In fact you were betrayed by one who told Talzin to find you, and then aided and abetted her plan to capture you." 

Maul's eyes grew wide and a wave of anger twisted across his patterned skin. "May I know the identitiy of my betrayer, Master?" 

Sidious considered Maul before he answered. "Meltch Krakko." 

"Did Trezza know, master?" 

Sidious shook his head. "Trezza knew nothing. However I fear that we may not be able to contain the damage that has been done. We can't risk that word of your disappearance and all the followed my spread. You will deal with Trezza and the others at the school." 

The others? Maul thought of Trezza, who had always treated him with a degree of respect that Sidious never had. He thought of Kilindi and Daleen, who had shown him kindness. And then his pounding heart turned to stone and he said, "I live to do your bidding, master." 

Sidious nodded. "And as long as you do, you will continue to live. Be discrete."

He was. He found Daleen in her room with Kilindi and cut her throat. Her eyes opened long enough to look at him before the light inside them went out, and the light of her life left the Force.

He found Trezza, who looked at him covered in blood and still tried to calm him. He stabbed him to death in front of his ward.  

Maul looked  at Kilindi. She was staring at him blankly, but she radiated fear like a child in the presence of an enormous monster. He'd never wanted her to fear him. It didn't matter now. He never paused to wonder how his life might have been different if he had not revealed his Force powers to Meltch Krakko. He never paused at all. His only purpose was to serve his master. Kilindi didn't run. 

She did try to smile. 

She said, "I guess you're not interested in the surprise that Daleen and I had for you." 

"Not anymore," Maul said. He held her body in hands that barely felt like his own and felt her life leave her body. 

He killed them. 

He was ten. “You need to leave,” he said quietly. His teeth were red with his own blood. 

“Maul?” Kilindi was halfway to the blaster she kept under her desk. Her dark eyes were fixed on him.

“You need. To. Leave.” 

“Why?” Daleen carefully extracted herself from his grasp. He caught her wrist. 

“My master. He,” Maul swallowed. “Has ordered your death.” 

Kilindi paled into a mint green. “He can’t. Trezza-” 

“Trezza couldn’t stop him if he tried,” Maul shook his head. “He’s not what he seems, my master. He’s more powerful than you could imagine. Trezza can’t stop him. I can’t stop him. You need to run.” 

“What about you?” Kilindi demanded. She was always too smart. 

“He will hunt me down no matter how far I go.” All of Maul’s plans were out the window now. “But you he knows less. If you go now, quickly, you might escape with your lives.” 

“We can’t leave you,” Daleen argued, her jaw set fiercely. 

Maul turned on her, his eyes flashing. “You will leave. Now.” His voice bounced off the walls and around her skull. Daleen swayed. 

“We will…” 

“I am not letting you get yourself killed!” Kilindi argued, storming up to him. Maul didn’t not waver. 

“I will not die,” he said firmly. “I am too stubborn.” 

He ignored Kilindi’s crushed expression. 

“Go,” he said again.

They left. They lived. 

He was thirty four. Mandalore belonged to him. The duracrete and beskar walls were ornate, for a warrior society. The pacifists were dead at his feet. His brother was at his side. 

A wave of cold he’d nearly forgotten landed on the planet. 

His master had come. 

The doors blew open and rage swamped across the room. It was not the battle fury of Savage, who towered over him even with his metal legs. 

He watched the mandalorians, his mandalorians, lift into the air, clawing at their throat. They fell limp and were dropped in heaps of black and red armor. His colors. His markings. The door swung open. Savage, at his side, tensed. 

Anger simmered through Maul. How dare Sidious? But he did not attack. He could feel the oppressive shadow that Sidious cast upon him. He could not win, and his brother, his apprentice, was weaker still. 

The doors parted and Sidious entered. 

Swallowing his pride, he fell to one knee. “Master,” he murmured, as he had done years ago. 

“I am most impressed to see you have survived your injuries,” Sidious said. Maul’s hand tightened on his metal knee. 

“I used your training, Master,” he said, though the truth was the Force was what had told him how to preserve his own life. “I build all of this, for your,” he went on, his mind whirring as he tried to spin his tale, “In hopes of returning to your side.” 

“Hmm. How unfortunate that you are attempting to deceive me,” he sneered down at him while Savage paced closer restlessly. Recklessly. He didn’t know  Sidious as Maul did. He thought they could do anything together, they two. 

“Master?” 

“You have become a rival!” 

With a turn he threw the both of against walls that cracked with the impact. They dropped, and fought together, red against red, burning and rage and hate. 

They were sent flying through the windows of the palace, where Maul skidded to a stop. The electronic connections to his nerves hissed and he scrambled to his feet, reinforcing them with the Force. Sidious laughed at them, vicious and cruel. 

Savage fell. Maul cradled his brother’s hand in his own, his master forgotten, watching green mist curl off of his body as his strength and life left him. 

“Brother!” 

“Brother,” Savage croaked, his eyes rolling. “I am… an unworthy apprentice. I am not like you. I never was.” 

Grief threatened to strangle him. Good, he wanted to say. Don’t be like me. Be better, brother. 

“Remember the first and only reality of the sith,” Sidious lectured, laughing from behind him. Grief twisted into hatred, and into rage inside him. “There can only be two. And you are no longer my apprentice. You have been replaced!” 

He was seventeen. "I saw your weakness long ago. Your doubts in your own abilities. Your doubts in my teaching. Your inability to embrace the dark side. And that is why, over these long years, I have secretly trained another apprentice."

Maul had stared hard at Sidious. He hadn’t wanted to believe him. He hadn’t wanted to trust the taste of betrayal on his tongue or the coursing anger in his veins. 

"Or, poor Maul. All he ever wanted was a friend. Does it please you to know I have another apprentice? Does it make you feel less alone?" 

Breathless and in pain Maul had said, "More than one apprentice... is against rules of the sith."

"You are right," Sidious said with a grin. "A spark of intelligence, at last. My second apprentice is on the other side of the planet. He conquered all of the assassins sent after him. He only sustained a flesh wound. He is healthy. He is strong. Unlike the pathetic weakling I see before me." 

"Can you understand? Focus. If there can be only one apprentice, then one of you must die. Who do you think I have chosen to die, Maul?"

He was twenty two, and the jedi lay dead at his feet. He would have given him a quick death if he could have, but in his excitement he’d been sloppy. If he was prone to apologizing he would have, but he was too concerned with the apprentice that threw himself at Maul with viciousness and fury. 

He was stronger than Maul was expecting. The Force spun around the pair of them like the light of their sabers. Maul had never known that light could burn the way Kenobi’s eyes did.

He didn’t feel the pain that came when the little jedi, in one smooth move, leapt over his head and spun to cut him in half. All he felt was horror, and a desperate, desolate rage that came with it. He would not die. He could not die-

Vengeance, the Force whispered to him, curling around him like an old friend. Vengeance. 

He is thirty four again. The jedi stood in front of him in the throne room of Mandalore, entreating and so infuriatingly kind. He should hate him. Why doesn’t he hate?! Maul can taste his fear and his anger. But no hatred. He was to weak for that. 

“I have seen your village. I know where you’re from,” his voice is impossibly kind and Maul wants to scream at him. Where was that when he was a child? Where was that when Sidious was taking him apart piece by piece and building him into nothing more than a tool? A weapon? 

Another thought comes in. He had not asked Savage much about their homeland. He knew only the basics. 

“I know the choice to join the darkside wasn’t yours. The Nightsister’s made it for you.” Maul can’t take the kindness. It’s a lie, a weakness, a bargain for the life of his woman-

“Silence!” 

Maul woke again to the droid hovered over him, touching one of his still short horns. 

The fuzziness at the edge of his vision was fading. The Force loved her children, and Maul was no exception. No drug worked on any Forceful for very long, especially once it wasn’t being introduced continuously. Their bodies purged it, and Maul had trained his to get rid of toxin’s as fast as it could. 

The fact that his wounds had been infected at all had been his own fault, for stopping the flow of the Force to give the illusion of his death. 

When the droid made to replaced the bag of pain killer’s Maul bared his teeth at it. 

“No,” he meant to snap. What came out was hoarse and wrecked. Force, what had he done to his throat? Everything was still fuzzy and clouded, but clarity was steadily creeping in. 

“You will be in pain.” Said the droid, and continued to hook up the bag. 

Maul scowled. He struggled to sit up. “No,” he said again. When the droid paused to look at him and Maul reached to rip the needle straight out of his arm when the doors slid open with a soft click. 

A mandalorian stood in the doorway. His helmet was absent, his hair was sweaty and stuck to his forehead and he looked pale. 

Oh. Maul knew that face. He knew that face well. 

He hadn’t cared much about the clone wars, besides wanting to laugh that the Jedi, peace keepers, had been reduced to generals and commanders, but it was impossible to avoid during the years that it lasted, and the years of the empire that came after. 

But, it was too early for clones to be wandering around the galaxy. 

Maul had a brief spike of fear that it had happened again. That he’d fallen into dark madness and memory and lost another decade of his life to blind muttering and rot. Then he realized that the man was wearing true beskar, not the plastoid of a clone. 

They used a mandalorian as the template for their army, Rook Kast had told him with a strange kind of pride, given that her mother, and she herself were part of an organization that fought against him. 

It didn’t lessen the feeling that Maul was wrong footed here. 

“Don’t pull that out,” he said when he saw Maul had his fingers around the edge of the needle. 

Maul scowled at him. 

“I don’t want-” he choked and coughed before he settled for pointing at the green bag the droid held. 

“Pain killers,” the droid said dutifully. “Without them he will hurt. The bacta has worked well on him, and his fever is broken, but his ribs still need time and-”

“Don’t. Care.” Maul said firmly. Let him hurt. It was beyond a pain that would slow him down, and now that he was aware he could turn it to strength once he felt it properly. The shadow of the darkside curled near him like an old friend, waiting to be called upon. 

The mandalorian kept looking at him. His brown eyes were wide, but there was steel in them. 

Maul met those eyes evenly. Now that he wasn’t feverish and barely alive, and the last of the suspension had faded by then. Maul breathed in and pulled the Force with it the way he had sith ashes, twice now. It curled in his lungs and purged the last of the painkiller from his system. 

“No,” he said again. His body was mostly healed. Bacta had done its work, and he healed quicker than was strictly natural as well. The outer injuries would hurt a while more, and he knew his back was still worse for wear, but he was perfectly functional like this. He’d killed Qui Gon Jinn with an injured leg, after all. 

The Mandalorian looked between the boy and the droid before he finally ran his fingers through his curly hair. 

“It’s your choice. If you change your mind, you can tell him,” he nodded to the droid. Maul didn’t respond. He continued. “Now, ade, want to tell me why you were on that ship?” 

Maul set his jaw. He certainly did not. 

Mando inclined his head when it became clear that Maul wasn’t the talkative sort. 

(This is, in fact Not True. Sidious just taught him to keep quiet. Free of his master and Maul had never once in his adult life shut the fuck up) 

“Okay. Then how about a name? Mine is Jango, of House Fett.” 

“... Maul,” was all he offered up. His throat still hurt, and he wasn’t keen on swallowing bacta. He’d deal with it. 

Fett nodded at him, once. “Okay, Maul. Where were you going?” 

Maul pressed his lips into a line. He didn’t know how much to tell the Mandalorian. While Fett had certainly helped him, when he didn’t need to, and old mandalorian’s had that annoying habit of adopting whatever children they found, Maul didn’t know how much he trusted him. 

Did he trust him enough to tell him about Kilindi and Daleen? 

Sidious had been right. Maul did know the pair enough to figure out where they might go next, but was he willing to risk their safety like that? Sidious was still Senator Palpatine to the rest of the universe. It was entirely plausible he would send bounty hunters out looking for the pair. 

“Away.” 

Fett looked him in the eye. Maul couldn’t imagine what he found there, but Fett inclined his head again. He wasn’t pressing for answers. Foolish, but Maul appreciated it nonetheless. If Fett worked with foundlings, as Rook called them, he would be used to people who didn’t like to talk about the past.

“I can take you somewhere safe. There are no master’s there. You would be free to do as you wish, once you’re old enough to take care of yourself.” 

Maul curled his lip. “I am old enough!” 

A phantom smile flickered across Fett’s face. The paleness started to leave his skin. 

“You’re still an ade, a child. You shouldn’t be out here on your own. The galaxy is a dangerous place.” 

“I’m aware,” Maul said, scowling. “And I won’t be put away in a creche. I’m no child.” 

Sadness entered the air. 

“You are by all laws. How old are you?” 

Maul scowled. He answered, truthfully, “I don’t know.” 

That didn’t make Fett happy. The sadness, already tinged with anger, swelled with fire. Maul breathed it in gladly. 

“I won’t be sent away to live with your children,” Maul said again, firmly. 

Fett ran his hand down his face. 

“I’m on my way to help a friend, so I couldn’t take you to a Foundry if I wanted to.“

That actually threw Maul off. “A Foundry?” What would he be doing in a metal factory? He was not working in one! 

“Easy, Maul,” Fett held up his hand placatingly. “A Foundry is where Foundling’s live before they’re adopted into a clan, or strike out and make their own.” 

Maul was slack jawed. Fett meant for him to be adopted as a Mandalorian?

“Absolutely not!” He wasn’t against being mando, but he had just left Orsis. He was not about to be shoved into an over glorified orphanage with a bunch of sad-eyed children!

“They aren’t bad places. Three meals, a bed, other kids to keep you company-”

“I’m not a child!” 

“And you’d learn to fight, and a trade if you want it. It would be safe,” Fett’s voice was kind, “No one would beat you there.” 

Maul curled his lip, revealing the gap between his teeth. 

“I’m not interested.” 

Even as he said it, he could tell that Fett was stubborn. Fine, Maul was too. 

“We’ll see. I’ll find you somewhere safe once we’re planet side, and we’ll figure out the rest once I return from my job. Whatever happens I will make sure you are safe. Understand?” 

Maul worked his jaw before he finally relented, his shoulders slumping. 

“Fine.” 

Worse case scenario, he killed Fett and stole his ship. 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

 They came upon the planet half a day after the ade, Maul, finally woke up. 

The boy troubled Jango something fierce, but it was as he said; he had a job to do. 

On any other job he would have either called someone else to take over for him, or called one of his men to take Maul off of his hands, at least temporarily. 

But he’d been telling the truth to Maul before. This job was for a favor, and he couldn’t exactly pawn that off on someone else. He’d assured her that he would be the one there. 

When it came to Maul himself Jango didn’t want to foist him off on someone else for plenty of reasons, not the least of which was the ring of bruises that were trying to peak over the collar of his flight suit. For such a small thing Maul was vicious and startlingly strong, especially for the emaciated state Jango had found him in. 

Jango had every faith in the mandalorians in charge of Founderies. They dealt with hard cases all the time. Maul was far from the first freedmen that had been found by one of his people, and unfortunately he wouldn’t be the last. It meant that even if they weren’t very experienced with the Force they were very good at helping traumatized ade. The jetii magic was going to hurt things, but they could work with it. Some of his people heard the Manda, and as Mand’alor he heard them as well. They guided them and watched over them, their forebears. 

None of them ever fried a whole ship in one go, but mandalorians were nothing if not resilient. 

That said, he was reluctant to let the boy go. He didn’t want to make Maul feel like he wasn’t wanted. 

The boy was a fighter. He was stubborn, too much so for his own good. Smart, too. Jango could feel his eyes on him whenever they ate, and they watched him from the shadows while Jango moved around the ship. If Maul’s ankle bothered him, he showed no signs of it. 

The Manda hummed at Jango whenever he was near the boy, and he had been Mand’alor long enough to know better than to dismiss their quiet song. Even without them, he looked at Maul and saw the warrior he would one day become, fierce and powerful. With a crown of sharp horns pointed, strength in every move he made. He had just been missing armor. 

Jango shook his head. The Manda had been very loud about this boy. 

Jango initially thought that once he made contact with his friend on planet he could find a bolt hole to stash Maul in, or ask Dex to keep an eye on him. 

Maul, the trouble maker, stole a hooded poncho kept in the closet and fairly attached himself to Jango’s side. The ship was Silas’, a more discreet make than Jaster’s Legacy, so Jango wasn’t too surprised. Silas was one of the few Mandalorians who was willing to hide his armor and go undercover when needed, and Jango figured he would find all kinds of clothes around the ship if he had a mind to look. 

Maul stood by the door, the hood pulled up over his head, and stared at Jango defiantly. 

Jango bit back a sigh. 

Privately, he thought that this was Jaster’s doing. This was his revenge for all the shit Jango had pulled when he was an angry, hot headed ade and buir had had to drag him out of trouble a million times. 

“Keep your head down, and stay out of sight if you can. Okay?” 

The look Maul shot him was utterly unimpressed, but he nodded, once, his tattoos face half hidden by a poncho three sizes to big for his little body. The only real problem left was his ribs, and the slower healing burns on his back, and a long line that had been burned along his side.

Jango shoved those thoughts away so he didn’t do something stupid. Like demand who had done that to child and hunt them down. 

Another time. 

They made their way down the ramp, Maul little more than a shadow in the corner of Jango’s visor. When they came upon the ship his friend was traveling on. 

The Monument was a crate shaped correllian barge. 

It was also one of the ugliest vessels Jango had ever seen. It was pock marked from asteroid hits over its history. Jango watched a few arconian’s march on board in miner uniforms, while crew loaded it with supplies. Out of all of it, the thing that stood out the most was a small human that stood in front of the ship, looking like he was marching to the shooting squad instead of a simple mining vessel. Jango might not have noticed him if it weren’t for the fact that Maul, at his elbow, had frozen up and was staring at the boy. 

For his part the human was oblivious. 

Jango would have asked, but they were interrupted by the arrival of his friend. 

Clat’ha stopped in front of them. Her teeth were bared in a grin that looked more like a grimace. 

“I’m glad you could make it,” she said. clasping Jango by his forearm. She looked like she had when they’d last parted ways, with her in the cockpit of her ship and he on the grounds of Mandalore. Her eyes darted towards Maul at his side. 

“Who’s the kid?” 

“I’m not a kid,” Maul snapped, but it was half hearted. His attention was still on the human who was slowly making his way onto the ship.

“A foundling,” Jango said. 

“And you’re bringing him with?” Clat’Ha’s brows shot upwards. Jango didn’t blame her. 

“No, I-”

“Yes,” Maul said at the same time. He was still watching the boy, but when his voice overlapped Jango’s his attention finally turned to Jango himself. His jaw set mulishly.  “I’m coming with you.” 

Jango shook his head. Clat’Ha, wiser than he, made a quick exit with some excuse about checking with the captain. Jango let her go while he knelt in front of the young one. 

“It’s not going to be safe.” 

“All the more reason for me to go.” 

“Maul,” Jango softened his voice, and tried to ignore the way it made the young one tense rather than relax. “I know you’re tough. I can see it. But I can’t let you come on this job with me.”

“You’re not my dad,” Maul crossed his arms over his chest and looked triumphant. “You never said that Gai bal Manda.” 

That was true. He hadn’t. Jango eyed the boy. 

Jango was going to have to ask an armorer how hard it was to make a buy’ce for species with horns. Maul’s were short yet, but they would certainly grow with age. 

Something in Jango’s expression must have given his intentions away, because Maul’s smuggness vanished. 

“...You wouldn’t.” 

The phrase was enough to make Jango’s heart ache in his chest. Did the boy truly think he Jango wouldn’t want him in his clan? Did he think any of the Haat’ade wouldn’t take one look at this fighter of a boy and not lay a claim to him? 

Whatever master he had had before had done plenty of damage. 

Jango wanted to say the words then and there. The only thing stopping him was the wide eyed look on Maul’s face. For the first time, true uncertainty. 

When Jango lay his hand on Maul’s shoulder the boy didn’t flinch or pull away from it. 

“Not if you’re not ready for it. I can wait, ad’ika.”

“I can’t,” he shook his head, nearly dislodging the hood. “I can’t be your aliit, I have brother-” 

He froze, like he’d just revealed some terrible secret. Maybe it was. It was enough that it made Jango’s blood start to boil. Maul had vod, somewhere. Were they still with his master? Or had they been sold somewhere else? 

“I can help you find them,” Jango offered, solemn. 

Maul visibly gathered himself. For just an instant he really had looked his age. Not like the feral creature that had fallen out of the ceiling, but a child forced into a horrible situation. Was this how Jaster felt when he’d first decided to adopt Jango? 

“After the job,” Maul said, his shoulder’s straight and his chin lifted. 

Jango nodded once. 

“After the job. Think about what you want to do after. If you want to stay with me or go to a Foundery, or if there’s somewhere else for you and your brother’s once we have them too. Let’s get back to the ship, and see if we can’t find some weapons and armor for you.” 

Maul agreed, and the pair walked side by side back to the borrowed ship.

[darks-ink]

Just To Be Seen By My Eyes

Heya @aedelia​, happy holidays! Here’s my Truce gift to you! Hope you enjoy it!

Also on [AO3] and [FFN]! 

---

“It’s certainly very beautiful,” Maddie said, slowly, cautiously, “but I don’t understand why they gave it to us.”

“A sign of appreciation, perhaps?” Jack guessed, shrugging. “We are Amity Park’s primary ghost hunters. Maybe they wanted to pay us back for it?”

Maddie hummed, spreading out the papers a little further. Now they laid all separated on the table, allowing the two of them to view them fully.

“I suppose the artistic interpretation of the Ghost Zone is very interesting,” she eventually settled on. “We know vaguely what it looks like, thanks to the time the town was brought into the Zone, but still.”

Jack picked up one of the sheets of paper, his favorite painting of the bunch they had received. Besides the black-green sky that they had known about, it depicted a ramshackle building that reminded him of Fentonworks, bits of technology haphazardly welded together.

“Even if they’re useless for research, they are still pretty, Mads. I say we frame them. Jazz has been complaining of the house lacking decoration, anyway.”

“I suppose so.” She shook her head, but her lips quirked into a smile as she nudged another painting. This one depicted a grand castle, a vibrant forest nestled up next to it. Ha, like the Ghost Zone could even house something like forests, never mind ones so lively. “I do wish we knew who the artist was.”

“Yeah, definitely.” He put the painting down with the rest, carefully smoothing it out. “They’re certainly a creative sort. Wish we could track them down, but there must be tons of people in town with the initials DP.”

“Well, nothing we can do about it.” Maddie shrugged, turning to head to the lab. “If they only signed it with their initials, and didn’t leave a note with their name, they must not have wanted us to know who they were.”

He grunted as he followed her down the stairs. “Still, I wish we could’ve thanked them. It would be interesting to hear them explain why they chose to depict the Ghost Zone like that.”

“It would be more interesting to look at the real Ghost Zone,” Maddie lamented, stopping next to her table in the lab. She heaved a sigh. “But, unfortunately, we can’t risk such trips.”

“I know,” he grunted. “Who knows what kind of things Phantom could get up to while we left? Or worse yet, what it could do to us while we’re out of the town’s sight.”

“Yes, indeed.” Maddie straightened a blueprint, and Jack stepped up next to her. “Well, nothing we can do about it, except try harder to catch Phantom. Speaking of which, honey, I think I finally figured out how to fix the Bazooka’s battery issues.”

---

“Oh, another one.” Jack chucked the letters in his hand onto the table, focusing on the new drawing. DP had continued to send in paintings on a regular basis. At first they had been various interpretations of the Ghost Zone, like the first batch, but as time went on they had expanded their repertoire and started painting ghosts instead.

“This is certainly a curious one,” Jack mumbled to himself as he looked over the new painting. It was another imagined Ghost Zone vista, although the edges of the island weren’t visible. A lush snowscape, with the characteristic black-and-green sky of the Zone. A curious details was that DP had included ghosts into the landscape this time; small specks of them littered the hills, and a few were close enough for them to include details. They looked animalistic, with shaggy white fur and ice-like horns. One of them even had an arm made entirely out of ice, with bones visible within. A shame that DP had included that detail; ghosts didn’t have bones, so it was an unfortunate error.

Still, there was nothing to be done about it. Maddie hadn’t been terribly interested in looking into the mystery of this ‘DP’ further, and to be honest, he could understand why. They wanted to learn more about the Ghost Zone, and whoever DP was, their paintings couldn’t possibly be based on the truth. Nobody had been to the other side of the Fenton Portal besides ghosts, and no ghost would make mistakes like including bones.

Jack blew out a sigh, placing the painting down on the table. They could figure out what to do with it later. DP had been sending them so often that Maddie and he weren’t sure what to do with them anymore. No matter how sweet it was that this artist was inspired by them, or by their research into ghosts, they couldn’t possibly showcase all this art. They didn’t even know who made them!

“Mads?” he called downstairs instead, deciding to take his mind off of the topic. “I’m gonna head out with the GAV, see if I can find some ghosts!”

“Be home in time for dinner, honey!” Maddie’s voice echoed from downstairs, underlined with the metallic clang of her putting down her tools. “And call me if you need me out in the field!”

“Will do!” he assured her. He didn’t need to check for weaponry; the GAV was always well-stocked, and would have everything he might possibly need.

So he headed for the garage, hopped into the large vehicle, and buckled his belt. The ignition roared to life, and with it, so did the various electronic appliances built into the GAV. Most importantly, at least for now, was the ghost radar.

The screen of the radar lit up, and Jack leaned in closer. Ah, and look at that! Not one, but two ghosts in the park! He’d better head over there. Either they were up to trouble, or it was Phantom chasing some other ghost. And if it was the latter, Jack might finally get the annoying specter!

Quickly he raced over to the park, stopping the GAV right next to the fence. He would have to continue on foot, since the gates were too small, but that was okay. He might be able to sneak up on the ghosts like this, since neither of them had moved since he had first seen them on the radar.

Still, whatever they were up to, it couldn’t possibly be good. Ghosts were malevolent, through and through, and if they hadn’t moved they hadn’t been fighting with each other. That must mean that they were working together, either causing trouble, or plotting to cause trouble later. No matter which of the two it was, Jack knew he had to interfere.

He quickly grabbed one of the plentiful ecto-guns the GAV was stocked with, jumping out of the vehicle. He didn’t have a radar on hand, but that was okay. The ghosts were unlikely to move if it hadn’t before now, and, well. They literally glowed. He was sure he would be able to spot them when he got close enough, even in the bright afternoon light.

As quietly as possible, he crept through the bushes. His gun, he held ready. He had to find the ghosts, and quick. Who knew what kind of trouble they might’ve gotten up to?

The moment he spotted a glimpse of unnatural white light, Jack stopped. Then, certain that neither of the ghosts had spotted him, Jack peeked through the leaves.

The ghost closest to Jack was instantly recognizable. Slight but masculine build, messy white hair, and a black jumpsuit. Phantom, without a doubt. The other, he couldn’t place. Green skin, long blonde hair tied into a braid, and with a sky blue dress. Definitely modeled after a woman, that one, and slightly older than Phantom. Or, well, if they had been humans. There was no telling the age of a ghost.

“Almost done,” Phantom spoke, suddenly. But it seemed to be talking to the other ghost. Why? Almost done with what?

“Ah, very well.” The other ghost inclined its head slightly, a gesture almost a nod, but halted. “I admire your work, Sir Phantom, but my kingdom calls for me.”

A kingdom? Sir Phantom? Very interesting. He would have to make sure to remember all of this. Oh, if only he had some sort of recording device ready. Maddie would’ve loved to hear this, too.

“I know, I know. I really appreciate you coming out here for me.” Phantom didn’t look away from whatever it was doing, hunched over. “I know things are still kinda messy after the whole Aragon thing.”

“It is no trouble,” the medieval ghost—the ghostly queen?—assured Phantom. “Without your help, I never could’ve overthrown my brother. I owe you, Sir Phantom.”

Phantom snorted, shaking its head briefly. “You know that that’s not true, Dora. You fought Aragon on your own, and you won that way too.”

“Ah, but--”

“No buts,” Phantom interrupted the other ghost—Dora, apparently. “You know just as well as I do that I wasn’t the one to convince you to stand up for yourself. You already made me your knight and your ally. You don’t owe me anything.”

The monochrome ghost paused for a moment, then lifted the object it had been hunched over. Finally Jack had a chance to see what it was, and he felt his heart stop.

Phantom had been working on a painting. And, depicted on the paper, was the other ghost. The style, even from where he was hiding, was instantly recognizable. Phantom had been the one sending paintings to FentonWorks.

Oh. Oh. Of course he had been! Just because the ghost usually went by Phantom didn’t mean it lacked a full name. No, when it had first introduced itself, it had called itself Danny Phantom. DP!

Cursing internally, Jack startled back to awareness when the Dora ghost moved. It floated closer to Phantom, inspecting the painting as well. Were ghosts vain creatures, then? Did Phantom pay them in paintings to play pretend with it? Then why would it be sending them to the Fentons as well? Was it trying to buy them? Buy their alliance, so they would no longer hunt it? Ha! As if!

“Oh, what a wonderful work again.” Dora smiled, an expression that was almost soft, if it hadn’t been on a ghost. “You did a very good job again, Sir Phantom.”

Phantom flushed bright green, and Jack took a moment to realize that it was a ghostly equivalent to blushing. How? Why? Ghosts didn’t feel emotions, why would they blush, especially to one another?

“Thanks,” Phantom stuttered back to the other ghost. “But it’s nothing special. And, um. Thank you for posing for me.”

“I already told you, it was no problem.” The other ghost floated a step or two away again, loosely shrugging. “I just hope the Fentons will like it, so you will finally be on good grounds with them.”

“I mean, um.” Phantom’s expression dropped into something Jack could only call an uncertain smile. “They, uh, don’t really care for them, I think? I believe they don’t think they’re real, and thus not useful.”

“But have you not been signing them as yours?” Dora insisted, a frown on its face. “Do they think that you are sending them false paintings of the Ghost Zone? Of your fellow ghosts?”

“Well, I, uh.” Phantom’s grin became even more harried. “I might’ve been signing them just as ‘DP’? I didn’t think they would trust them otherwise!”

Dora stared at the other ghost for a long moment, then clicked her tongue and shook her head. If it had been human, Jack would’ve said it was disappointed. But, since it was a ghost, it couldn’t possibly be. “Well, I suppose you know best. I wish you the best of luck with them, regardless.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Phantom nodded at the other ghost, and dismissed, it quickly left.

Now that it was just him and Phantom left, Jack knew he should be making a move. This was the perfect opportunity; Phantom was distracted, looking at the ground. Gathering its supplies, presumably.

But he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t.

It was astounding. Absolutely confusing. Sure, Phantom’s obsession had always been questionable, never easily labeled, but still. No possible interpretation could cover for its drive to fight off other ghosts and for painting. Hell, it didn’t even try to fight off this particular ghost! No, the two of them had seemed quite friendly, and Phantom had even let it leave without confirming that it really did leave Amity Park.

And then Phantom stood upright, suddenly, a roughed-up backpack in one hand, art supplies clearly visible poking out. In its other hand, it held the new painting.

“Well, let’s go deliver this one,” it said, voice quiet like it was just talking to itself. “Who knows, maybe seeing a ghost they don’t recognize will be what convinces them!”

As if. And clearly Phantom thought so too, based on the tone of its voice. But then, if it was intelligent enough to know this (and apparently it was), why would it still go through with this? Why would it put in such effort, if it knew that it was futile?

Phantom lifted off before Jack could even consider shooting it down. Shot up into the sky, fading from visibility before long.

Knowing that there was no point in lingering anyway, Jack pushed his way out of the bushes, finally. Absentmindedly brushed the dirt from his knees. Lumbered back to the GAV.

He turned the key of the ignition, and the radar booted back up. No ghosts left in range. Dora must’ve returned to the Ghost Zone as it had said, and Phantom went… wherever it usually went when they couldn’t find it.

Like this whole thing had never happened.

His drive back home had been slower than usual. Maybe it really hadn’t happened. Maybe he had just… imagined all of it. As long as there was no proof that Phantom had painted that medieval ghost, that Dora, it might as well not have happened. Right?

The car came to a halt. Jack let himself back in the house.

“Oh, Jack!” Maddie looked up from the potatoes she was peeling. Right. Dinner. “A new painting came in. It was quite fascinating. A portrait of a ghost again, but I don’t recognize this one. Do you think that the artist came up with it themselves?”

He felt his heart stop.

Jack licked his lips, then asked, cautiously, “Is it a green-skinned ghost, with long blonde hair in a braid?”

“Yes.” Maddie put down the potatoes, immediately focusing on him. “How did you know? Did you run into the ghost?”

“Yeah. Both of them.” He shook his head, then let himself drop onto the sofa. He wasn’t going to have this conversation standing up. “DP is Phantom, Mads. I saw him in the park, and he was painting that other ghost.”

“Are you sure?” Maddie asked, but clearly she could tell he was telling the truth. “But why? And how is it making such high quality paintings? It isn’t related to its supposed obsession at all!”

“I don’t know.” And that was the big problem, wasn’t it? Whenever they thought they had Phantom figured out, it introduced some new detail, some new variable. They never knew everything they needed to know about it. “I don’t know, but I know what I saw. Phantom painted it, with the intention to give it to us, and the other ghost was okay with that.”

“It was?” She sat back down as well, the half-peeled potatoes now completely ignored. “But how-- why?! Not only did Phantom indulge in something unrelated to its obsession—art—but then it also completely went against its obsession by letting another ghost into the town!”

Jack snorted humorlessly. “And worse still, Phantom let the other ghost leave without keeping an eye on it to make sure it left. They seemed on friendly terms, too. Were discussing when they worked together in the past. It even called Phantom ‘Sir Phantom’.”

“Unbelievable.” Maddie shook her head, staring down unseeingly. “There’s no way that this could all tie into its obsession, but…”

“But ghosts can’t act outside of those obsessions, either.” Jack nodded, slowly. “So either the research is wrong, and ghosts aren’t bound to their obsessions like we thought…”

“Or Phantom breaks the norm, somehow.”

They met eyes. Jack licked his lips. “And we have no way of knowing.”

“Never mind the question of why it’s making these paintings. For us specifically, right?”

“Yup. Some of them, at least, were made just for us.” Jack drug the new painting closer to himself, staring at it. It was of superb quality, carefully painted, and a very close match to the ghost he had seen in the park. “Which leaves one more question. If this painting is real, have all the others been too?”

“Surely not?” But Maddie was clearly already running through all the other paintings they had received from Phantom. The landscapes, the other ghosts. All the portraits had depicted ghosts they had seen in Amity before, even if others had featured in the landscapes. “It could’ve tweaked them, made the landscapes seem more interesting. Maybe it’s trying to make the Ghost Zone seem more alluring, so we will go in and run into its trap.”

But Jack shook his head. “I don’t think so. There are better ways to get us to explore the Ghost Zone, and it clearly knew that we didn’t put any faith in them being real. As hard as it was trying to convince us, I can’t imagine that it would put so much effort into luring us out there. Especially since it could lure us away with other stuff, by kidnapping civilians or our kids, or, hell, maybe even by stealing one of our more intricate inventions. Lord knows it’s not above stealing our stuff.”

“No, it definitely isn’t,” Maddie agreed easily, a pensive frown on her face. “Still, I can’t think of any other reason why it might be sending us paintings. What use could that possibly have for it? What benefit could it earn from this?”

“Who knows, Mads.” Jack puffed out a heavy sigh. “Who knows.”

---

“Are you sure that this was a good idea?”

“Pfft, are you doubting me?” Danny rolled his eyes at Clockwork’s unimpressed stare. “It’ll be fine, and you weren’t telling me any better plans. You can’t make me doubt myself after I did it!”

“I think that you will find that I can, in fact, do that.” Clockwork’s lips twisted into a smirk.

Danny huffed. “Yeah, well. Thanks for nothing, old man.”

Clockwork fixed him with another unimpressed look, one eyebrow quirked, as his body shifted into his child-like form.

“I hate you,” Danny muttered, no heat behind his words. After the whole thing with his evil future self he had started visiting Clockwork more often, hoping for future knowledge, or at least hints on how not to bring about another apocalypse of his own making. Instead he’d been getting lessons on the Ghost Zone’s history, its geography, and ghost culture as a whole.

He’d complain about it, but it was kind of helpful to know. Besides, Clockwork wouldn’t steer him wrong.

Probably.

“Anyway, I had better head home, see what my parents thought of the new painting.” He paused, then dug his phone out of his pocket. “Wait, can I take a picture of you? To paint you later?”

“On one condition.” Clockwork shifted back into his adult form, gesturing for Danny to come closer. “Make it a picture of the both of us.”

“What, like a selfie?” Danny snorted, but huddled up next to the time ghost anyway. “I mean, I guess, but I was kind of hoping for a painting to give to my parents.”

Clockwork hummed, but didn’t reply. Danny rolled his eyes, but lifted his phone to snap a picture of the two of them anyway.

“Would it kill you to not be cryptic for once?”

“Yes,” Clockwork replied, deadpan. “How else would I have become a ghost?”

Danny snorted, flicking back on his phone’s screen to look at the photo. “Fair enough. Anyway, the pic looks fine, so… Are you sure I can’t snap one of you alone?”

“I am sure. Now get going,” Clockwork’s lips twisted into a smirk, “Wouldn’t want to be late, would you?”

“You’re the worst.” Danny stuffed his phone back into his pocket, floating over to the door of the Clocktower. “I’ll get you back someday, Clockwork!”

“Sure you will,” he said airily, the smirk still on his face. “Sure you will.”

Danny rolled his eyes but didn’t bother to reply, instead leaving the lair. Clockwork was so frustratingly cryptic, but he always told good advice. If he insisted Danny paint a selfie of the two of them, well… there must be some sort of reason for it.

Not that he could think of a reason, but still.

He made sure to turn himself invisible right before passing through the Portal, zipping into his parents’ lab unnoticed. It was a good thing that they had never installed ghost scanners near the Portal, because that would’ve made life so much harder for him.

Huh. No one downstairs. He peeked over at the clock, but it wasn’t dinner time just yet. His mom might be working on it already, but his dad should still be downstairs, right? Strange.

Intangibly passing through the ceiling, he found himself in the living room. Ah, and there were his parents. And his new painting of Dora! Maybe they were discussing what to do now that they figured out that he really was painting the truth.

“It just… It doesn’t make any sense,” his mom said complaintively. She gestured at the painting, almost knocking over the pan with peeled potatoes on the table. “Why would Phantom paint these for us? What’s the point? What kind of benefit is it hoping to get from this?!”

“I don’t know.” His dad straightened up, looking at Danny. No, straight through him, at some of the framed paintings on the wall behind him. “If it were human, or following human logic, it might be… trying to help us understand the Ghost Zone? Paint more of it so we don’t have to go explore there? But even then… We’re not on good standings. Why would it try to help us?”

“Exactly.” Maddie heaved a sigh, then picked up her knife and an unpeeled potato, starting to peel it. “With a human, it could a sign of… of trying to better our relationship. But a ghost? They can’t experience such feelings, such desires, can they?”

“But neither can they pick up a hobby like painting if it’s unrelated to their obsession,” Jack pointed out, shrugging his massive shoulders. “I don’t know if we can dismiss any options, Mads.”

“No, I suppose not.” She dropped the peeled potato in the pot, picking up a new one. “We could try assembling a list of possible intentions later, and then try to cross them off one by one, based on Phantom’s behavior and reactions.”

His dad hummed a note of approval, and, figuring this was a good moment to stop eavesdropping, Danny resumed his earlier flight. Phasing into his room, he finally dropped his ghost form, noiselessly landing on the floor.

“Man. I can’t believe they figured that out,” he mumbled to himself. “How could I… Oh.”

He dug his phone out of his pocket, digging up the picture he just took. “Clockwork knew, obviously. And he… wants me to make a painting of the two of us.”

Danny made a face, then shrugged. “Well, I suppose there’s no harm in it. He’s never led me wrong. Unless he’s been resetting the timeline every time he did, but, well. Details.”

Dragging his ragged backpack to his desk, Danny spread out his art supplies. Straightened out a new piece of paper, laid out his phone for reference, and started painting.

Maybe he could include a little note with this one? Write it on the back, or something?

Yeah, maybe that would work…

---

Jack paused, the few letters he’d already leaved through barely hanging on. Was this…

He dropped the other letters, until the only thing left in his hands was the painting. An all new painting, the same style as all the other ones, but the subject matter…

“Mads!” he yelled, not looking away from the painting. “Mads, we got a new one!”

“We do?” Her voice echoed up the stairs, quickly followed by the sound of footsteps as she stormed up. Then she came up next to him, saw the painting, and paused as well.

He couldn’t blame her. Phantom must’ve somehow known that they had figured it out, or it gave up on subtlety.

The new painting depicted two ghosts, huddled up next to each other. Phantom’s arm was outstretched, as if the painting had been snapped like a photo. Maybe it was based on a photo. Next to Phantom was a large ghost Jack didn’t recognize; blue skinned, with empty red eyes and a purple cloak.

No, the focus of the picture was Phantom. It smiled at the camera, but it wasn’t its characteristic smirk. It was more like a genuine cheery smile, matched by a faint smile on the other ghost’s face.

Jack flipped the paper over, wondering if Phantom had signed it as usual. Instead he was surprised to find actual written text.

“A letter?” Maddie asked, leaning in closer. Jack held it out slightly so they could both read it.

“Dear Fentons,” the letter read, the handwriting scribbly like that of most teens, but still legible.

“I’ve been given to understand that you two have figured out that I’m the one making these paintings for you. And I understand that that’s probably pretty concerning, since you’re… not all that pleased with me and my… general existence. Some of the things I have done have been framed badly, yes, and sometimes I cause damage in my fights. Who doesn’t? But no matter what you think, or what this city thinks, I always try my best to protect everyone in this town. And I’m just one ghost, in the end. Even with Red around, I would feel much safer knowing that there are other ghost hunters around. And not just hunters, scientists, who understand how ghosts work, and who could teach others. So I tried to help you with that, tried patching your gaps of knowledge with some of my own. Only you did not realize it was based on the truth, because you didn’t know it was me, and now that you do… I fear that you still do not trust any of the information I’ve tried to teach you. So… I guess what I’ve been trying to say is…”

“Can I do anything else to help, to convince you?”

Jack startled, cursed, and dropped the letter. He twisted around to find Phantom floating behind them, its glow flickering.

“Phantom,” Maddie said, cautiously. Her hand crept to her hip holster, but it was a lost cause; she didn’t carry weapons in the lab. Too big of a risk of a malfunctioning invention setting them off.

“I’m serious,” the ghost insisted, its glow brightening slightly. It still flickered like a candle. Jack wondered why, since it didn’t seem like the ghost was hurt or otherwise hampered in strength. “I want to help you guys with your research. Without, y’know, dissection stuff. I know you haven’t been in the Zone, and I really wouldn’t recommend it because that place is dangerous, but come on! I can teach you all kinds of stuff; ghost society, culture, history--”

“Ghosts can’t have any of those things, though,” Maddie interrupted, eyes narrowed. “They don’t even have emotions. They act only on obsessions. That leaves no room for-- for society, or culture, or whatever else!”

“Oh, come on, you don’t seriously believe that, do you?” Phantom huffed, crossing its arms, and looking seriously peeved off. The glow flickered even more wildly, now. Was it… Could a ghost’s glow express emotion like that? “If I could only ever think about my supposed obsession, why would I make paintings like that? Huh?”

“Your supposed obsession?” Jack questioned, keeping a close eye on Phantom’s aura. “Are you implying that you don’t have an actual obsession?”

“No? Nobody has obsessions like you’ve described them.” Phantom shrugged, and its aura dimmed a little. Hmm, perhaps brightness was related to anger? But then what could the flickering be? Uncertainty? Anxiety? “Plenty of ghosts are obsessed, sure, but it’s no different from a human who is super obsessed with something. Like a hyperfixation, I guess. It certainly won’t kill them to do something else.”

“So if someone stopped you from fighting other ghosts, from protecting this town, you wouldn’t… It wouldn’t do you any harm?” Maddie asked, watchful eyes on Phantom.

“Well, no.” The ghost shrugged again. Its glow flickered harder. “I mean, if someone got hurt I would probably feel kinda guilty about it, but… I mean, nothing I could’ve done about it if someone stopped me.”

“I suppose that that makes sense,” Jack said before Maddie could speak. He wasn’t quite sure that Phantom was telling the truth about obsessions, but they were certainly wrong about the emotional capabilities of ghosts. Besides the interactions he had seen between Phantom and Dora in the park, there was no reason for them to express emotions via their glow; no human could understand that. It could only be used to communicate emotions with other ghosts. “I mean, I guess your obsession could be to be helpful, which would explain why you would learn painting to help us, but still. We were wrong about your emotional range. Who says we weren’t about obsessions, too?”

Phantom made a face, then shrugged a third time. “Eh, good enough for me. But, really, I would love to help you guys with your research by providing more knowledge.”

“Why would you send us paintings, anyway?” Maddie frowned, clearly confused. “Clearly you can take pictures, since this last one was obviously based on one. Why not send those directly?”

The ghost shrugged, then smiled sheepishly. “Well, uh. First of all, I really like painting and I could use the practice. And second, ghost stuff just doesn’t photograph well. The pictures didn’t do justice to the real things, so I figured I could paint them more alike.”

“I see,” Jack said, ignoring the sharp looks Maddie kept throwing him. “Well, we’ll think about it, okay? And we’ll let you know.”

Phantom’s glow flickered again, like a disturbed candle, but then the ghost nodded. “Sure. That’s more than I had expected, to be honest. See you guys around, then.”

The ghost raised a hand, then faded from visibility.

“And Phantom,” Jack shouted after him, assuming the ghost was still within hearing distance, “don’t enter our home without permission!”

“Yes sir!” an invisible voice chirped back, followed by the sensation of wind as the ghost flew away.

Maddie shot him an unamused look, but he shrugged. “Look, Mads. We clearly misstepped somewhere in our previous research. It’s undeniable that they have emotions, so maybe we were wrong about more?”

She watched him for a moment longer, then heaved a sigh. “If you say so, honey, you must have your reasons. At the very least we could hear him out, I suppose.”

“He’s not a bad kid,” Jack allowed, as he turned back to head towards the lab. “Definitely has a talent for painting, that one!”

[nekoannie-chan]

Misunderstandings

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader.

Word count: 1380 words.

Summary: Simple actions led you to think that Steve doesn’t feel the same to you when reality is different.

Warnings: None.

A/N: Flashbacks are in italics.

This is my entry to the @p8tn0lish ‘s Sweet 200 Challenge with the song prompt #10:

“So I moved to California, but it’s just a state of mind, it turns out everywhere you go, you take yourself, that’s not a lie. Wish that you would hold me or just say that you were mine-it’s killing me slowly-”. Lana Del Rey, Fuck it I love you.

My native language is Spanish so I wanna improve my writing skills in English if you notice any mistake please let me know and I will correct it.

I don’t give any kind of permission that my fics be posted in other platforms or languages (I translate myself my work) or the use of my graphics (my dividers are included in this), I did them exclusively for my fics, please respect my work and don’t steal it. There are some people here who make dividers that anyone can use, mine is not this type, please look for the other’s people. The only exception is the ones I gifted ‘cuz now belong to someone else. If you find any of my works on a different platform and is not one of my accounts, please let me know. Reblogs and comments are always welcome.

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Marvel’s characters (unfortunately), except for the original characters and the story.

My other media where I publish: Wattpad, Ao3, ffnet.

If you like it please vote, comment, and give me feedback to improve my skills and reblog. 

A year that has passed since you went to California, you accepted the mission because you wanted to get away from him, it was painful, he probably didn't even know that he had hurt you because you never managed to confess your feelings, but he believed that by going somewhere else you could forget it, but it seemed that life liked to remind you of its existence

You had returned to New York, your mission had already ended in California, you knew what awaited you, although this time you thought you could bear to see him again.

“What are you doing here? You asked in unison.

You knew Agent 13, you never had missions together because she always ended up arguing and fighting; mainly because she didn’t stop scrubbing her background to annoy you, although she pretended to hide it from others,

“S.H.I.E.L.D. left me in charge of Captain Rogers, “you answered him.

“Me too.

"It must be a mistake," you said in surprise.

"It's not a mistake, Agent," a voice pointed behind him.

"Director, are you planning that we work together?"

"Not exactly," Fury replied.

The two looked at each other confused.

You had a long time living in that building, however, you didn’t like to see Sharon there, and in a way, you felt that it disturbed your way of life.

 Steve had changed your life in many ways, the things you had lived together were too many to be forgotten so easily.

 Someone knocked on your door, you hoped it wasn't Sharon.

"Steve, what's up?"

You smiled like a fool as soon as you saw him.

"Do you have sugar?" He asked, showing you a cup.

“Sure, give me a moment.

"Well, the truth is that I had problems with the coffee maker, these appliances from your time are very complicated to use," he confessed.

“Do you want me to explain how to use it?”

“Please”.

You went to his apartment, as soon as you entered you saw that there was great chaos in the kitchen.

"You had several problems." 

 Every time you remembered the event you could not help but laugh, it had not been the only incident of this type that Steve had had with the electronics, you shared many as well as time together, of course, that bothered Sharon, since he used to ignore her

On your birthday, Steve threw a surprise party after you had told him you had always wished he had one. That day was the best of your life although there were not many guests more than you and him, you had a lot of fun.

He had decorated the dining room with balloons and streamers, he had thought of everything. You danced to songs of his time, although he kept apologizing because he thought he was doing it wrong. It was the best birthday of your life.

Every weekend you used to stay at your house watching movies and series, Steve insisted on catching up.

You were watching Titanic, that movie that always made you cry, he hugged you to console you, he was so close to you that without much thought you kissed him.

As soon as you separated, he stood up from the sofa.

"I-I have to go," he stammered.

He walked as fast as he could to the exit.

"Steve ...”

From that day on he started acting distant.

"I probably misread the signs," you thought.

Every time you tried to talk to him at work something would come up or he would find a way to avoid it, just as when you knocked on his door, you didn't get any kind of response.

 Steve invited you to a café near the Stark Tower, it seemed that all the employees knew him.

"Hi Beth, could you get us two slices of apple pie and two coffees, please?" He asked.

Beth didn't seem very happy with your presence there, you even seemed to notice her annoyance in the way she attended to them.

“Do you know her?” You asked Steve.

"Every time I came, she's the one who takes care of me, she's a nice girl," Steve replied.

 You began to believe that you had made a mistake; you felt that you had ruined everything, you didn’t know how to fix it, several times you tried to apologize, but it was as if he didn’t want to know anything about you.

You were going to do the shopping when you passed by the park near the building where you lived, there you saw Steve, you were going to approach when you realized that Beth was also with him, suddenly she kissed him.

Now you understood Steve's behavior, he was dating someone, you didn't know it, but he explained everything, he didn't feel anything for you.

“Agent Y/L/N, are you sure he wants to accept the mission?” Fury asked a little convinced.

"Of course, I have not the slightest doubt."

"Any special reason?"

"No, I just think it will be a good adventure," you lied.

You had decided to accept that mission to forget Steve if he was happy it was fine, but you also had to seek your happiness.

If you kept looking at it and having it close it would be very complicated, the best thing was to start somewhere else, so your wounds could heal.

You didn't tell anyone, you just left.

After that incident in the park, Steve had thought about everything that had happened, decided he would stop visiting the cafeteria after what Beth had done.

Steve was in love with you, but frightened by what had happened and didn’t know how to react, now he needed to fix things.

It was the door of your apartment and he rang the bell, there was no answer he supposed he had come out, he tried several times during the weekend, the result was always the same.

He looked for you at work, but neither did he find you, it was as if you had disappeared

"And Y/N?" He asked Maria.

"On a mission," he replied.

“When will he be back?”

"I don't know, you just told me he went on a mission."

“Where?”

"You didn't give me any more details, I'm sorry, Cap.”

All he had found was a note in your office when he managed to get in.

 So I moved to California, but it's just a state of mind

It turns out everywhere you go, you take yourself, that's not a lie

Wish that you would hold me or just say that you were mine

It's killing me slowly

 He didn’t understand what it meant, he searched the Internet, but all he had found was that it belonged to a song, he had no idea how to find you.

You were already carrying your report, the mission had been a success, you entered the Triskelion, you walked through the corridors to reach your office, as soon as Steve saw you pass, he left immediately, he wanted to make sure it was you.

"Y/N" he called you.

“Captain Rogers”

“How have you been? Where have you been? ”He questioned.

He needed answers, he needed to fix things, he hadn't stopped loving you, and he wanted to know if you still had feelings for him.

"On a mission, what about his girlfriend captain?"

"Which girlfriend?" He asked confused.

"Beth, the waitress in the cafeteria near the Stark Tower."

"She is not my girlfriend," he clarified.

"I saw them kissing."

"I like you Y/N," he confessed.

"Captain, the director is looking for you," announced one of the recruits.

"I couldn't tell you ...”

"I looked for you so many times after what happened and you seemed to be avoiding me," you interrupted.

“I do not…”

"Rogers, the director is calling you," Rumlow said.

After that interruption you closed the door of your office, you needed to process everything that had happened in the last minutes.

Steve was upset by the interruption, he would try to talk to you after work, this time he would fix everything and he didn’t care what the consequences might be.

All-day you were thinking about what happened, you started to unpack your bags, you turned on the radio while you arranged things.

 So I moved to California, but it's just a state of mind

It turns out everywhere you go, you take yourself, that's not a lie

Wish that you would hold me or just say that you were mine

It's killing me slowly

 What should you do you couldn't forget it, in the end, if it was your turn, maybe you could give him a chance as long as he took the first step.

The doorbell of your apartment rang, you couldn't help but smile, now if all the doubts would be dispelled.

[erideights]

Tired eyes.

Request by @lilcutekittykat : Y/N has a lack of sleep meaning they are very upset with the world. Crowley being Crowley accidentally messes things up and now he has to fix it. 

(This is my very first request in my life (!!!!!) so I hope it’s what you wanted!)

Pairing: Crowley x Gender Neutral!Reader (Good Omens)

Word Count: 2314.  

Warnings: Insomnia.

Beep beep. Beep beep.

The annoying sound of the alarm indicating that a new day was beginning was piercing your ears and hammering your skull to the deepest point of your brain, inevitably pulling a deep low growl from your throat.

However, and to your dismay, you were used to it.

If one searches quickly on Google, some of the effects of not sleeping and / or not doing it properly are:

—Increase the risk of hemorrhagic stroke.

—Memory loss.

—Loss or increase of physical sensitivity.

And last but not least, irritability.

Scientific research suggests that an increase in anger in the face of lack of sleep is related to the activity of the amygdala, a deep structure in the brain that controls emotions. When subjects with sleep deprivation are exposed to images with negative emotional content, activity levels in this area increase by 60% more than normal. And not only that: it also interrupts the connections between the amygdala and the medial prefrontal cortex, which is what takes the reins of the amygdala and the emotions and moderates its response. Hence the disproportionate reactions of those who sleep little.

Or so you vaguely remembered from one of your many talks with Aziraphale about your bad sleep habits. But it was not your fault! You had suffered insomnia since you were young, and unfortunately, the situation hadn’t changed over the years.

Although you had become used to it and had learned to handle that fatigue and with it, your changing emotions, there were times when the slightest of noises would make you explode.

You were, in fact, a walking time bomb.

That it was Wednesday, and therefore having to work, did absolutely nothing to help.

The course of the morning was, for better or worse, like every day. The same faces when going down the stairs of your building, the same traffic lights on the way to work, the same companions fluttering around you and the same boring papers to fill.

“We could get you a good job, you know? You just have to ask for it.” Crowley suggested a few months ago, a glass of whiskey in his hand and his signature relaxed posture on the sofa in the back room of the affable angel’s bookshop.

“You could work here with me!” Suggested the latter, a melodious and soft giggle parting his lips.

“But that would be cheating,” you argued, extremely tired and on the verge of collapse, both legs dangling from one of the armrests of your chair and body lying all the way back. “I want to get it on my own, and I know that one day I’ll do it, but in the meantime…”

Oh, you wish you weren’t human, or at least not have that stupid and strict moral norms rooted in your DNA thanks to the education your parents gave you.

How would you like to be able to ask your guardian angel or your particular demon to do a miracle of their own so that the job of your dreams would come before you, promising a bright future.

But it wouldn’t happen, and on a day like this one, that only added fuel to the fire that was your bad mood.

So the hours passed, one after another, relentless, sinking you into a bottomless pit in which, at the end of the day, you only wanted to cry until tiredness forced you to sleep for two weeks, or to be able to punch someone in the face until reaching the same result as in the previous option. But you didn’t do it.

With a heavy sigh and a lot of effort, your arms collected all your belongings, kept them in the small backpack you always carried, and your feet dragged you to the bookshop you learned to love —it wasn’t more than 20 minutes away—.

A place like this would give you the will to live, or so you thought.

The scent of old books flooded your lungs at the same time that the bell on the door announced your arrival. It was already late, the sun had set long ago and the few customers that the store used to have were gone too. Even so, Aziraphale always used to leave the door open knowing that his two favorite people would be dropping by sooner or later. “Here’s the first.” He must have thought.

‘’Y/N!’’ He chirped happily, delicately closing a book he held in his hands. The smile he wore didn’t last long, however, and an evident concern immediately adorned his face. “Are you okay, darling? Do you want a cup of tea?”

Quickly and forcing your best smile, you shook your head as you approached the thousand-year-old angel and took a seat right in front of him, leaving your things aside on the floor. “Don’t worry” You said softly and in a reassuring way; you knew that Aziraphale tended to make too much of anything. “I’m just tired, nothing more.”

‘’Didn’t you manage to rest well last night?’’

“Are you surprised?” You asked back, maybe more sarcastic and bitter than you intended.

The angel just nodded once and sighed, so accustomed to that tone of voice both you and your demon boyfriend used sometimes that he no longer gave any importance to it.

The moment you wanted to run your hands through your hair to throw it back, trying to find the peace you had been looking for all day and the strength to not cry because of the lack of emotional rest, the doors of the place were wide open, —much more dramatically than when you came in— and slammed shut behind the new intruder in the shop.

Neither you nor the angel needed to look up to know who it was, but still you did, a tired smile decorating your sweet features in contrast to your marked eye bags and the fatigue accumulated in your eyelids.

You expected that, when you raised your head and gave him that first look, Crowley would bend over to kiss your lips in greeting, but that was not what happened; instead, an endless story occupied the pleasant silence that you and the angel shared, allowing the demon to tell you both “the very boring day he had and how there were times when he missed hell breaking his balls.”

He didn’t talk about it more than 3 or 4 minutes, but who was going to blame you for reaching your limit? You were on the edge of it all day.

A heavy and annoying nasal sigh attracted the attention of the redhead to you, and his first reaction was to frown and lift his glasses to rest on the crown of his head; he wanted to see you better.

‘’Wow, you look like you’ve been in hell.’’ He said, concern all over his face and voice, stating that his comment wasn’t malicious, but his choice of words was the spark that lit the wick.

And as you knew it would end up happening: you exploded.

You didn’t articulate a single word. You didn’t release any sarcastic remark or make excuses for your appearance, because the last thing you also needed was to argue with him. But you did get up abruptly from your seat, took your things and charged off to the entrance of the shop before even one of the two supernatural beings behind you could do anything about it.

Silence fall over again, relentless, deadly and uncomfortable, and Crowley searched his best friend’s eyes for an answer to the countless questions that piled up in his mind.

He knew that, in general, he tended to screw things up, and he sometimes was annoying, a manual jerk and a nuisance, but what had he done now?

Aziraphale’s gaze softened when he found the grief in the other’s, knowing for sure that his comment was not harmful, but that he didn’t say it at the best possible time.

His beautiful blue eyes curved in that oh, so tender expression that only he knew how to make and, after taking a sip of a cup of chocolate that had been cold for minutes, he decided to resolve all the doubts of his confused friend.  

————ϟ————  

The glowing light of the electronic alarm on your nightstand silently declared that it was already 3:00 a.m. in the morning. And you were still awake, in bed, endlessly spinning around, so tired that the thought of an induced coma sounded wonderful inside your head.

You just wanted to sleep, nothing more.

Your eyelids weighed tons and your entire body lacked any strength to do more than roll and roll again on the mattress for comfort.

Your brain was screaming for rest. But you couldn’t find it.

To finish the play of your life, you couldn’t stop thinking about Crowley.

‘’Yii liik liki yii’vi biin in hill’’, you mocked in the dark, hurted, despite knowing that it was one of the biggest nonsense you ever got mad about. Because it was. But you couldn’t help but get up and leave at that moment, because maybe all you needed was a kiss and a hug and the comfort that only his arms could give you but you didn’t want to admit it out loud and ask for it. “You’re so stupid”. You answered yourself out loud, gently pulling your hair in reprimand.

Probably the demon felt terrible after your sudden departure when he didn’t deserve it and you didn’t know where to start apologizing the next day. Or if you would have strength for it.

But as if reading your thoughts, —and you often suspected that he did and/or if that was one of his many powers—, the eccentric demon crossed the door of your room without inhibitions of any kind or care in case you were asleep.

You were not, of course, but still, you jumped out of fright till you were sitting and with your back resting on the headboard, now your heart in your throat, a torrent of adrenaline rushing through your veins and your eyes more open than ever in your entire life.

If it wasn’t for the moonlight that slipped vaguely through the window, you would have thought someone was going to steal your belongings or to kill you, but the figure of the fallen angel could be made out in the shadows of the room and it didn’t take long to confirm his identity.

‘’Crowley!’’ You screamed, wrinkling the sheets that you’d pressed against your chest in a foolish attempt to cover your body even if you had nothing to hide from him for a while now. “Don’t you know how to call the fucking door? You scared me to death! Do you know that people who suffer insomnia are more likely to suffer a heart attac—”

He was fast. So fast. He didn’t stop to apologize or listen properly to your reprimand, because while you were screaming at the edge of a cardiac arrest, he’d already walked to the side of your bed, fallen on top of it and caught your lips in a kiss that you couldn’t reject even if you wanted to.

No that you have wanted either.

His hands cupped your cheeks and pulled your face towards him, deepening the kiss as soon as he started it, and when you sighed with pure pleasure for the first time in 24 hours, a smug smile made its way in his sinful lips; Crowley knew you too well, and he knew the effect he had on you.

“Get up.” he commanded in a low voice, his breath caressing your face, and you couldn’t do otherwise than obey, following every step he took as he got off the bed —his right hand entwined to your left—, came out of your room and walked around the house.

You didn’t have time to ask where you were going, because your eyes were fixed on the door of your bathroom; it was open and from it came a faint orange light, very different from the white one usually provided by the ceiling lamp.

A couple more steps were enough to see lit candles on the shelves, around the sink and the bathtub, this filled with hot water and white fluffy foam. Petals of black roses filled the floor too and a bottle of champagne with two glasses on a wooden table was waiting to be enjoyed.

Your eyes widened, Crowley wasn’t known to be the most romantic being in the universe, so that gesture took from your mouth the most genuine of the smiles you could draw, and without thinking twice, you put on your tiptoes to correct the height difference between both of you to lovingly kiss his cheek.

“Thank you”. It was the only thing you said, knowing that you didn’t need to ask him to stay with you because he would do it one way or another.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”  

————ϟ————  

“Ah, I forgot to tell you that I called your boss and told him you would never come back. Now you work with Aziraphale.”

You almost absorbed absolutely all the foam you had in your hands and that you were willing to blow in his direction, the surprise causing you to inhale the air instead of exhale it.

You coughed a couple times and tried to clear your throat with a sip of champagne before you shout “YOU DID WHAT!?’’

[doodledoobug]

The Void without Magic

Hi!! I normally don’t share my writing, but recently @purp-man has convinced me that it is good enough to post, so here we go :)

Title: The Void without Magic Wordcount: 4054 Trigger Warnings: Blood, blindness, mentioning of depression and suicide, major fight injuries Main characters are Anti, Jackie and Marvin, No ships included Summary: In a battle against the glitch demon Anti, Marvin loses control over his spell and needs to learn how to live while he is blind

  I

It was Thursday evening, stormy weather was cast over the city. Jackie, a local hero, had just called up his brother to help him with a terrorist that was once also part of their family. A crazy maniac, with knives hidden all around his body and the ability to glitch all over the place. He was literally able to be everywhere; In your brain, in your house, everywhere. He was manipulative, and overall just incredibly insane. The more blood there was, the better. Rain was hitting the pavement like hail, and the ominous sound of thunder could be heard every now and then. The hero was covered in blood, bruises, and sweat, and it was very clear he was using the last bit of stamina he still had. Marvin had thus come at the right time to help him. 

“Marv! Please watch out, he’s even stronger than usual! He’s unpredictable and plays with your mind!” The worn-out hero warned the magician. Marvin had come straight after his magic show to the crime scene to help, but he still felt as if he should’ve come earlier. Whatever he was thinking, he should not let it bother him with the fight displayed in front of him. He quickly tossed a stamina potion to Jackie, who caught it and drank it as soon as he caught it. “Gotcha. This is all the stamina I can give you, I did not have enough time in the break to make more.” He apologized.  Jackie shook his head and thanked him for the potion. “If you prepare some spells, I will hold him off. He is ready to charge again!” Jackie said, pulling two katanas from his back, and inducing it with lightning. 

Jackie had electrons in his blood, that he could move as he pleased. It did tire him out quite quickly, and that raises the possibility of him electrocuting himself. He had to be careful since it was storming as well. Marvin was already preparing a few spells that might give them the chance to knock the glitching demon out. Anti wasn’t just going to sit around and wait for Marvin to be done though. He knew he could take Jackie out in a few hits, but Marvin needed to stop his spell preparation. “Well, well. Was the hero not strong enough themselves to finish me off?” He cackled and shook his head. “Can’t be helped. You need to train Jackie.” He grinned, spitting the name out as if he hated it with all his guts. “But your magician friend isn’t going to be able to get me too. Just try to protect him with me around” He spoke, and started glitching all over the place. Jackie had to do his absolute best to follow the demon around. 

Anti dashed towards the fully concentrated Marvin, only to be blocked by Jackie himself. Anti gritted his teeth in annoyance. He had wished to finish Marvin off in one hit since he wasn’t sure how much his magic had improved in the year he had been gone. Jackie seemed certain they were going to win, which made him a bit wary of the magician. He could, however, use that certainty against himself. “Hey Jackie.. What if you don’t win huh? Then you took an innocent life with you, and it would be your own brother's life. Oh, how unfortunate..” He grinned. He saw the certainty waver for a second, which made the demon press harder on the katanas. Jackie got pushed into Marvin his magic circle.

“Jackie, get out of the circle. The spell is going to be ready soon.” Marvin said. The hero nodded, and pressed harder, walking out of the circle while pushing Anti back. What Marvin said had sparked an idea by the demon, however. Marvin said that Jackie couldn’t be in the magic circle, which most likely meant that that would be dangerous. He kept his eye on Marvin and tried to estimate when the attack would be ready. It didn’t take more than one minute for a bluish-black fire to appear in his hands. His eyes were glowing and Anti knew what he had to do. In the instant that Marvin was about to send his attack flying, he pushed Jackie into the circle and backflipped away from it himself. 

Marvin’s eyes widened in shock, and he desperately tried to redirect the flame, to make sure Jackie wouldn’t be hit. Redirecting a magic attack that already had a route was one of the most difficult things for a magician to do, so it wasn’t a surprise when the fire got redirected to Marvin himself, sending the magician flying to the nearest concrete wall, and an agonizing scream filling the air. The scream was followed by a loud thunder, and even more rain started to pour down. “MARVIN!!” Jackie screamed in absolute horror, his eyes big in shock. The demonic laughter of the glitch, fading in the distance, was the last thing they heard before Jackie blacked out as well.

II

Jackie was the first one to wake up the next morning. Soft beeps could be heard and the room was brightly lit, with white walls reflecting all of the morning sun. Every bone and muscle in his body hurt, and he could feel medication flow through the tube coming out of his body. He sat up, a loud groan coming out of his mouth. “Jackie, how do you feel?” The familiar voice of the eldest brother asked. Henrik was a doctor and had probably carried both of the brothers back to their house when they were knocked out on the concrete pavement.  “I’m okay. How is Marvin? Because of me…” He said, frowning when he remembered what had happened the previous evening. “It is okay Jackie. It’s not your fault, Anti has grown even stronger since the last time that we saw him. We should all have been more prepared to take him on.” Henrik said. He and Chase had been doing research, trying to figure out when and where Anti would reappear. The day had come quicker than they all had anticipated, resulting in the embarrassing loss of the two brothers.

“I’m afraid that I do have bad news though,” Henrik said, with a sad expression on his face. Jackie braced himself for the worst possible situation, but he was still not ready for what he was about to hear. “Marvin has lost almost all of his vision. He can only see shimmers or very bright lights, but he will never be able to see again.” Henrik said, doing his utmost best not to break down in his sentence. Jackie felt his heart sink into the floor. It had been his fault that Marvin’s attack backfired into his own face. The hit with the building wall must’ve been that hard that he had damaged his brain. Tears slipped down his face, and his hand slowly curled up in a fist. He couldn’t even face Marvin after the humiliation they had yesterday, and Marvin had taken the hit instead of him. 

It took a few more hours for Marvin to wake up. He woke up with a deep sigh and rubbed over the back of his head, where he felt a soft fabric. Bandages? He opened his eyes tiredly, but it stayed dark. He tried consciously blinking. Still, it was dark. “Where am I?” He yelled panicked and started feeling around. He was on a bed, that much he could feel. Maybe his eyes were bandaged. His hands went up to feel his face, but he could feel his eyeballs and skin, so there was no mistake here. He couldn’t see. Would he be like this forever? He couldn’t be. He could not possibly live blind after having been able to see for almost 30 years. He started to sob, and he screamed at the top of his lungs. “JACKIE! HENRIK! ANYONE?!” He cried out, his faint sobs echoing through the room. It was quiet, except for the beeps. He felt the cold tears flow down his skin, and his bed sheets started to get wet. Henrik rushed through the door not even 5 minutes later. “Marvin, is everything okay?” He asked concerned. Marvin just kept weeping.

“Henrik… I can’t see… Everything I love doing… I can’t anymore…” He cried, his foggy eyes staring right past Henrik. “I can’t live like this. I can’t even see my own magic!” He wept, starting a small flame in his hand. “I’m sorry Marvin.. I’m trying to find a way to fix your eyes, but so far I’ve come up with no cures..” Henrik said, tears starting to form in his eyes as well. He couldn’t bear seeing his brother like this, but he also knew there would be no way for him to fix his eyes. At least not with the medical knowledge he had right now. “Leave me alone Henrik… Please.” Marvin mumbled underneath his breath. “But.. I want to comfort you..” He said back. “Please, it’s the only thing I’m asking from you.” 

And so Henrik went back to his office. Jackie didn’t want to face Marvin, and he hadn’t even told Chase and JJ the bad news yet. He felt useless as a doctor. He couldn’t even fix up his broken brother, and it frustrated him. For now, he would have to tell Chase and JJ the bad news. Usually, they help with researching, making a weight lift off of Henrik his shoulders. He quietly walked into the living room and made himself a cup of coffee. Afterwards, he poured in some vodka and walked up to Chase and JJ. “Your brothers got badly hurt in their fight yesterday, and not only that. Marvin has lost almost all of his vision, and there doesn’t seem to be a cure for it as of today. He doesn’t want to speak to anyone, and Jackie feels responsible for them.” He said quietly. A shocked JJ was waving his arms around in panicked sign language. “Yes, Marvin is pretty depressed right now. Could you guys please help him get used to being blind? Maybe do some research on getting a cane? I will be spending my nights working on a cure.” Henrik said, and took a sip of his coffee. “Sure, but don’t overwork yourself, Henrik. We all know that no one but that demon needs to be held accountable for this. Don’t beat yourself up over it.” Chase said and gave his big brother a hug. Henrik nodded, but deep inside he still felt like he had failed his brother.

III

For five whole weeks, Marvin refused to speak. The only thing he was doing in his room was trying to heal his eyes by making potions based on what ingredients he knew by smell, and Chase was the only one he spoke a few words to. His question had been if Chase wanted to read all the healing spells to him, so he would be able to heal his eyes. But nothing seemed to work. The magic he had wanted to use on Anti, was a binding magic; Anything that happened 5 minutes after the spell would not be able to be erased, and thus Marvin had become eternally blind. 

Often you could hear desperate screams at night, the shattering of bottles against the wall and loud explosions of spells he used around his room to let off some steam. It was excruciating to hear, and the brothers would often break down crying and hugging each other. They had never seen Marvin so distraught, he had always been the positive one in the group. “Everything can be fixed with a little magic!” had been his catchphrase for the longest amount of time, so it was a surprise when he one day walked out of his prison of misery, stared at a random point and said. “Everything can be broken with a little magic.” 

All of the brothers had been caught so off-guard, that they didn’t even stop him when he seemed to walk towards the front door. Chase had been the first one to jump up and rush towards him. “Marvin! What are you doing? Magic isn’t a bad thing! It helped me so much through my dark times” He said quickly. He was afraid. Marvin could hear the tremble in his voice and knew that he was scared. “This isn’t living Chase. I can’t see my own magic. All my hobbies require eye-sight, and I can see nothing more but a glisten. I’m only burdening you guys in this house.” He mumbled and gave his brother a quick hug. “Nothing can fix this! There is no way I can help you guys anymore, I’ve become a weak kitten that can be grabbed by the demon any minute. I would be better off dead.” He finished up, his voice growing more desperate and melancholic as the monologue went on. 

“That’s not true Marvin… We taught JJ to be able to use sign language when we first found him. We taught him to read lips and do anything another normal human being could do. That is no different from you. We can teach you how to live again, but you need to let us help you.” Chase said, hugging his brother even more tightly than before. “We love you, Marvin, you’re our magician. Every moment with you is magical, even if you can’t see it” Henrik added to Chase his argument. The poor magician started to tremble, and his voice got engulfed by his sobbing. “I-I…. Where do I even start… I can’t read, I can’t walk… I can only listen” He wept. Henrik handed Chase a walking cane, and Chase folded it out. Softly, he grabbed Marvins hand and let his grip fall around the plastic cane. 

“We are prepared. We got you beginners Braille books, which Henrik will work through with you. Our fridge, music installation, tv, bathroom and anything else got remodeled to work on voice controls. Jackie has been transcribing all your magic books to a braille version when you finish learning braille. We begin with slow steps, and that first step is you accepting our help.” Chase explained and looked into the foggy eyes of his brother. “A-Alright.. If you guys planned this far ahead, I will at least try..” He mumbled “Thank you, Marvin. Now, Jackie would like to talk to you for a bit.” Jackie had been the only one that hadn’t visited him in the five weeks he had been working himself to the bone. He had felt very lonely since Jackie and him were always extremely close as brothers.

Marvin heard quiet footsteps grow closer, and before he knew it, he was being hugged by his closest brother. The blind brother carefully hugged him back. “Jackie… Why didn’t you visit?” Marvin asked quietly. “I-I felt responsible. Because I got slipped in your magic circle, you had to redirect your magic spell and hit yourself. If I had been more careful, or if I had been stronger, this wouldn’t have happened. You wouldn’t have to learn how to be blind. I’m so so sorry, you can hate me all you want. It is my fault after all. I will do everything I can to find a way to get your eyesight back. “ He wept loudly. 

The Magician was taken aback by his hero-brother. He had never held him accountable for what happened, and it broke his heart to see him blame him for something that wasn’t his fault. “Jackie… Hey, Jackie… I would never hate you.. It is not your fault,. Don’t feel guilty, please.. We will work this out” He finished off, his brother nodding slowly and cried for a few more minutes. 

IV

They had been helping Marvin train for about 2 weeks now. He had gotten familiar with using his cane and could read basic braille. He still tripped over a lot of stuff, and getting meals and paying for it was still quite hard for him, but he was managing a lot better. The brothers had been delighted to see him brighten up so quickly, by doing simple things such as board games in teams, finding shiny outfits for Marvin that he could actually see, learning him to use makeup blindly and much more. He seemed to have regained his spirit again.

While they were all helping him with relearning all the basic things, Chase and JJ didn’t stop researching when Anti would reappear. Jackie had been working out like crazy, and Henrik had been helping him with creating gadgets to enhance his electrical powers. It felt like they had never been this prepared for an attack. One thing that they couldn’t use this time, however, was Marvin’s magic. His magic had been one of the strongest tools against fighting Anti, but now the only thing they could use were the potions he had made for him. The bottles had both braille and English tags. He had made defense, offense, healing, and spirit potions. The Spirit potions would call spirits from the magic realm to help him with the battle. They had been more prepared than ever. 

The evening before Jackie went off to fight Anti again, he walked up to Marvin’s room. He softly knocked on the door, which got opened after a few minutes of waiting. “Yes?” Marvin asked, not sure who was waiting in front of him. “Hey, uhm. I will definitely get revenge for your sight. It is his fault, and I want to own up to my mistake by taking him down.” He said, hugging his brother. “That's okay Jackie. I wish you good luck, and please come home safely.” Marvin smiled, and let his big brother go. 

Even though they had made mighty preparations for the battle between the hero and the demon, it quickly became clear it hadn’t been enough. The next morning, the hero was still not home, and he had not responded to any messages to phone calls. The brothers went out altogether to set out a search party. Marvin had used a piece of clothing from Jackie to use a tracking spell to where he had been last. Luckily he was able to see the tracking spell fairly clearly. His magic had adapted to show shimmers, so he was able to control it more. They quickly arrived at the wide-open grass field, which the hero had battled in the evening before. There was an overwhelming smell of blood and burnt flesh, and Marvin felt his knees buckle when they came closer to the source. The stench became worse and worse, and the magician started to believe they had already been too late. 

He finally heard a scream coming from Chase, followed by loud weeps. Marvin moved over the grass with difficulty, trying to find his way to the scene. “I-It’s Jackie!! Henrik, we need to get him out of here!! He has a gaping hole in his chest!!” Chase screamed at the top of his lungs. Marvin felt tears well up in his eyes and tried to keep his stomach in control. “Chase! I still feel his presence! I think he’s still alive!!” Marvin yelled over the open fields as soon as he got his breakfast back down. He tossed a very strong healing potion in the direction of Chase, who quickly applied it to the brother. 

“Let’s get him out of here!!” Henrik said, and their voices all grew distant. “Wait… Guys!!” Marvin yelled, unable to see and unable to feel well with his cane on the grass floor. There was no response. Marvin tried to hurry to what seemed more voices, but soon that lead was gone. His cane got stuck in a bump, and it snapped like a twig under someone’s food. Marvin started to tremble. “Please..! Don’t tell me you guys left me alone!! Please!! PLEASE!!” His screams echoed over the green hills, but there was no response.

The brothers who had helped him through his hard time had in the rush completely forgotten about his blindness and had gone back home as soon as they could to save his amazing hero brother. For some reason, the emptiness in his heart had returned. He felt betrayed by his brothers. That potion he had thrown would at least get him out of critical condition, they know that. So then, why would they rush off and forget about him. 

V

“Funny, isn’t it brother?” A voice of a glitchy demon appeared behind him, and Marvin froze in terror. “People seem to love you, but as soon as you turn into the slightest bit of inconvenience they leave you behind” He turned his head around, and even through his blind eyes, he could still see the shimmering glitches. “I can’t fight you Anti. You know this. If you wish to kill me, please do it now. I have nowhere to run to, and there is no place for me to hide as well. I can’t control my magic well when I’m blind.” He sighed, and let his shoulders hang down in defeat. 

“Do you really think I would sink as low as our other brothers? They exiled me because I lost control once. It was Chase his ex, who had hurt him oh so often. And you lose your eyesight, and suddenly they feel to burdened to help you” Anti spat. For some reason, he showed no ill will to Marvin. He even seemed to pity him. “So if you’re not here to murder me, why did you try to murder Jackie? Why did you stay here after I’ve been left by my own brothers?” He asked. Two hands with sharp nails carefully helped him up. “I never went to you guys for a fight. You Decided I was bad and tried to kill me. I was protecting myself. I even missed Jackie his vitals so he wouldn’t die. You are still my brothers.” Marvin felt weirdly at ease in the presence of the demon. It seemed like he understood him, but he still felt weary. He couldn’t see his facial expressions, so maybe he was changing the tone to deceive him. The way he had helped him up, however, didn’t seem fake. He was genuinely caring. “What point do you want to reach, Anti?” Marvin finally decided to say. 

“I want you to join my side. Yes, my acts can be considered evil. I kill, but I don’t just kill anyone that crosses my path. I’ve killed people who have taken advantage of the weak, the poor, the exiles. Just like me. I’m finding peace in my own way.” He said. There was no hesitation in his voice, no sign of a lie. It was all the honest truth. “And, while your brothers only looked into medical solutions for your blindness, I found a technical solution to it. It had never been my intention to make you blind.” He said. Marvin felt a cold plate being pressed against the skin just above its ear. It slightly melted into his skin. For a moment there was a sharp pain, but when he opened his eyes next, he was able to see things again. Not in the way he was able to see before, he was able to see layouts of where he was. The outlines of buildings in the distance, the tree in front of him, and the outline of the birds in the sky.

“I know it isn’t what you hoped, but this AI can be improved. Join me, lend me your strength, and I will lend you mine. We can rid this place of misleading bitches.” He spat out. Marvin’s eyes started to tear up. He was able to see  again. It was black with white lines, but he was seeing stuff again. He quickly engulfed his lost brother in a hug and started to sob. “I will join you! Thank you Anti… Thank you for getting me out of this void without magic. Thank you, for not leaving me behind and for accepting me.” 

Anti pat the head of his little brother and looked at the sky. “No problem. We will work for a better future. 

[chemicalmagecraft]

I Would Totally Kick Jiraiya’s Butt Chapter 16

A/N: Kind of a timeskippy chapter because there's like a year gap between important events. And I also ended up having a lot of fun with the secret base.

kukukuku~

"So," I said, sitting atop a sealed stone arch, "how does it look?" I took a bite from my chocolate bar.

"It looks really complicated," Naruto said, squinting. I smiled, though. It looked like he was at least following it somewhat, which was good.

"You really fucking want a space-time ninjutsu, don't you?" Kurama noted.

I huffed. "Excuse you. I'm sitting on a space-time ninjutsu. I want to know if it's a functional space-time ninjutsu." I looked at Ai and Tenten expectantly. "Well?"

Ai shrugged. "As far as I can tell, it'll work. You might want to check with your eyes first, though."

I nodded and pulled down my sunglasses. I saw only a few seconds into the future, so the drain was relatively minor; I lost maybe thirty minutes off my day at most. "Right, looks good. Wanna see it?"

"Don't you need to make a second one first?" Tenten asked me.

I grinned lightly. "Well of course I made another one already. I'm like a celebrity chef that way. Keep your arms and legs away from the portal until it's fully formed, unless you want to lose them." I took another bite from my chocolate and swung my legs up away from the portal and sent a command to the two demon sage cores embedded in each arch. I didn't see the safety illusion or portal form from my vantage point, but I did notice the shadow fall over Ai, Tenten, Naruto, and Kurama from how the sunlight was now somewhere miles away. I swung my legs back down once it was safe, using the momentum to swing myself through the portal and, with an application of chakra threads, onto the wall that was where I was sitting on the other side. It was pretty surreal, to be honest. Cool, though.

"Come on in, the water's fine!" I shouted from literal miles away. Or I guess I should maybe use kilometers...

"Why is it so dark?" Tenten asked.

I dropped to the ground. "It's a me-made cave. Wanna see?" I snapped my fingers and activated the light seal I'd placed above the arch.

"It's pretty empty," Naruto muttered. There was in fact literally nothing in the cave, except for a few strategically-placed holes for better air flow and pillars that hopefully would prevent cave-ins.

I shrugged and made a sort of picture frame with my hands, looking at the cave. "You try remotely making an artificial cave in a mountain several kilometers away. Now that I can physically go here I'll hopefully be able to refurbish this place better. Just gotta find a good place to put the gateway arch."

"How did you even find this place?" Ai asked.

"Remote-controlled body killed some bandits. Well, not remote-controlled but certainly not physically me. On the other side of the portal is an abandoned mine they were using as a hideout. It's secluded enough that nobody's gonna find it, hopefully. And once my base is more set up I'll just hide the front entrance." I walked back through the portal, then closed it behind me. I lifted my palm, and the core I was using in the keystone of the arch flew into it. The arch collapsed back into the earth. "I think maybe I'll use my closet for the gate, actually."

kukukuku~

Despite the absolute hell of boredom school was, the next few months passed by surprisingly fast. And even school wasn't really all that bad because I could telepathically communicate with Neji, Tenten, Kurama, Hinata through Kurama, Usagi, Gaara, and Karura. And even if they were all somehow busy, I could split myself without actually manifesting physically as Chikage and talk to myself without being crazy! Well, crazier...

Speaking of Chikage, we unfortunately couldn't figure out a way for her to physically take objects. There were a few ideas that almost came close, namely inscribing seals on her body to allow her to summon a sack or just seal stuff away in her, and then the simple idea of grabbing something from the shadows and trying to move it around, but unfortunately didn't cut it. The sack theoretically worked fine, but as it turns out, summoning makes a lot of chakra "noise" that a well-trained sensor can easily detect, and Danzō took full advantage of that fact. Storage was fine on the detection front, but Chikage had trouble melting into shadows with a physical object stored in her. She could still do it, but the part of her that had the object in it was always completely black and went either very slow outside of a shadow or kinda slow inside a shadow, especially compared to her usual near-light speed. Because we'd only have one shot, we were holding off on using it... And just grabbing stuff from the shadows was even worse, because it was exactly like sealing in terms of results except the object was outside of the shadow.

Moving on to brighter news, I used building the base to train my power. I wasn't two-tailed yet, but I was approaching Shukaku in terms of red chakra already. I also trained up my control of all the elements I had some kind of affinity for, letting me use more and even use two at a time. And yes, I remembered to practice taijutsu this time, meaning I could kick people kinda well. Even more fun, though, is the fact that I inspired other people to do some training. Namely, my friends. Except Kurama who, as he was locked in a small child, was naturally excused. Ino, Shikamaru, and Tenten joined the ranks of budding sagehood. Neji could manage a weak sage mode after a minute or so, and he managed to build up to first tail cloak without getting too bad of a fever. Naruto actually knew jutsu now. At least one of each type! With how I was giving Kurama back his yin chakra, Naruta was unknowingly getting better at using genjutsu, at least a bit. Hinata had gained some confidence and could control an entire one person's body and chakra, going so far as to somehow being able to make people use the jutsu that they knew, despite not knowing them herself. I guess there's some kind of chakra memory? That's probably what Sasori used with his puppets, actually. And Sakura... well technically she didn't do to much training, but she was super strong and I helped her learn how to not break things? I guess that counts as training...

Next topic, the secret base was awesome! It took me months to actually dig out all the rooms and stuff, then another month or so to find or make all the furniture and decorate it, but secret base! I also took to trying to do engineering after finding some broken up electronics. I probably wasn't the best at it, but with magnet release and Chikage's ability to possess objects essentially letting me scan things, I could do all kinds of cheating. So yeah, I modded a generator to be able to power it solely with magnet release, which was pretty simple, actually. Then, when I was finally able to fix up the minifridge I'd found, I got some snacks in my base. Well, I already had a pantry but I was able to have more stuff. I was hoping to actually make original stuff, though. Like maybe a magnet release-powered railgun. That would be fun. Or actually, if I could somehow make myself a 3-D printer or something like that knowing generally how that stuff works, that would also be useful. I didn't know what to do about plastic, but I at least knew how those things that you use to sand down stuff like metal or wood into particular shapes worked. Long-term goal, though...

In addition to the portal room, my base had some neat features. There was a sort of living room, which was where I put the snacks and some books. I was also trying to figure out how to hook up a TV in there, but that was probably a losing battle... There was also a theater that I was hoping I'd be able to use at some point, though I had yet to find any projector, much less one that was either usable or easy for me to repair. I mean I guess I could just genjutsu up visuals, but where's the fun in that? Okay nevermind that actually sounds really fun. I had my scrying room, which was just a fancy room I'd made with a really big crystal ball and some other stuff I could use for scrying. I made sure that that room in particular was visually impressive.

For the actually practical stuff, I had a mechanical workshop for mechanical projects, a fuinjutsu workshop near it for fuinjutsu projects, a poison/medical room for take a wild guess, and a gigantic storage room for materials. The mechanical workshop was really only just a table with scrap metal and reference books on it so far, but I was hopeful! The fuinjutsu room looked a little more impressive. It had shelves of scrolls on the walls, and a desk with a buttload of ink bottles on it. I ended up doing a lot of work there, because it turned out I could sell a bunch of basic paper bombs for a lot of money through my dad. Don't you just love it when your dad helps you sell a whole demolition team's worth of real-ass bombs? And then the storage room was just for storing the rest of the junk I had, plus the ores and stuff I managed to find and promised myself to mess around with someday.

The poison/medical room... was a work in progress. I mean, I kinda had some of the poison stuff going. The half of the room I had for poison was well-ventilated and separated from the other half with a glass barrier. Turns out Chikage just... had sand powers because I ate enough Shukaku. I knew I had magnet release, but I didn't actually expect that I'd have been able to generate pure silica sand. Seriously, how does earth jutsu work? And my scrying room was useful for figuring out exactly what to do with that to make nice, clear glass from that. Turns out you have to get sand surprisingly hot to make glass, but I made do by using a demon sage core for some extra chakra. I also used my glass magic to make all that mad sciencey glass paraphernalia you always see in mad science labs, using an Orochimaru base I could scry for reference.

Side note: I also ended up selling glass figurines and stuff because wouldn't you know it, the ability to make high-quality glass through supernatural powers makes for really pricey glass stuff, especially after I figured out how to alter the sand slightly to make colored glass. Seriously, that dragon was just... I was almost tempted to keep it because it was so beautiful, but I made so much from it. And then I realized I could make more. My base became so awesome a week or so of no sleep after that. I also jammed a bunch of glass in a scroll, because first off having a scroll that launches shards of glass at whoever you point it at like a literal glass cannon is a pretty good weapon and second off having shards of glass you can control with your mind with you at all times is a pretty good weapon.

Where was I? Oh, right. Deadly poison. I managed to work out a recipe for a decently good and fast-acting death poison with some help from Anko using the flora of the mountain range. It was a strangely convenient mountain range for poisoning. What a coincidence. I also made a bit of a garden for the ingredients that I could take from so I didn't have to go searching for more ingredients. I put that stuff in some Skyrim-looking potion bottles (made from glass, of course) so that I could just take a few of with me. I was hoping to use those with senbon for some sneaky kills. I also ingested tiiiiiiiiny amounts of the stuff (At large enough gaps, of course. I'm a mad scientist in training, not an idiot.) to try and build up my poison resistance, at least to my own stock. As for the medical side, well... I had a first aid kit and a few cruddy stone beds with stabilizing seals and chakra reservoirs attached to demon sage cores that would hopefully do more good than harm to anyone placed on the beds. I'm not Tsunade, that's good enough for me. The scalpels I put in there were really more for show and using my ferrokinetic powers on in the case of a home intruder. Seriously, why is Shukaku actually the most overpowered bijū aside from the Jūbi? Not that I'm complaining, of course.

I also had a bit of an exercise room made. Really, it was mostly just a track for jogging, a bunch of rocks with various weights to pick up and throw around, and a rock wall. And I found a secluded forest clearing far enough away from my base that I could hopefully use it to test bombs without worrying about the shockwaves damaging my base, at least if I kept them small enough. And it looked like it would be a pretty good training ground. I mean, I had another idea for the bomb range and training ground, but that'd do for now. I didn't exactly have enough demon sage cores to float a giant platform yet...

And of course, I wasn't the only one there. I mean, technically I was, but turns out Usagi can split themselves pretty much infinitely, so long as there are enough demon sage cores. I mean, there was still an "original" Usagi that was still carrying out their original mission and was more intelligent than the copies, but Usagi's intelligence had ended up filling all the demon sage cores that I wasn't directly using, making a bunch of hive-minded servants made of rock for me that populated my base. We were originally almost the same personality-wise, but it seemed like Usagi grew slightly... off from me. For one, the politeness wasn't an act anymore. To be honest, that was kind of disturbing, especially coupled with how I was ordering around these versions of me who were disturbingly polite. Still, they were useful because, as I said, a bunch of hive-minded servants. They fetched stuff for me.

kukukuku~

I admired a glass "gem" Chikage had just made. "Do we even need a 3-D printer?" I asked, tossing it up lightly. "This is some dang good glass, not to mention the fact that we can control it. Sure, we may want to also work on metal, but that shouldn't be too much of a step up from metal when we get more power, though we probably can't just conjure up more iron."

She stopped fiddling with the guitar she'd made from her chakra body. "Sounds legit," she agreed, then started making sounds like a cat coughing up a hairball. Her throat glowed and she spat up a ball of molten glass. "I am the 3-D printer." I still had no idea how magnet release could be used to control molten glass, but to be fair it could be used on regular sand, which isn't magnetic in the slightest.

"Hey, I have an idea," I said as I watched her mold the glass into the rough shape of a kunai, then let it start cooling so we could clean it up later. Glass blades, though a little fragile, are super sharp if you do 'em right. "You up for another blade?"

"Hit me with it." I sent my idea to her telepathically. What, you thought I was just going to tell you? She grinned and spat out another glob. I thought for a moment about how spitting molten glass would probably be a pretty good ninjutsu by itself, though that was a thought for later. Chikage waved her hands over the glob of molten glass, elongating it. The blade was longer than a kunai, but much thinner. It was intentionally weak, though not enough to fail to stab through someone. The blade didn't have a handle yet, that'd come later... "Let's hope this idea actually works, 'cause we're basically grasping at straws here."

kukukuku~

Chikage

Uchiha Shisui paused on his walk home. He surveyed the dark street and placed a hand on his blade. Something was following him. He noticed something in the shadows, and activated his Sharingan. "Who's there?" he asked. He saw an outline in the shadows.

"Uchiha Shisui," the shadow said. I bet you can tell by now just who that shadow is. "Your life is in danger."

He raised an eyebrow. "And I'm supposed to trust the shadow demon that's stalking me?"

I pushed a dagger out of my shadow, hilt first. "This is for you." I slowly moved toward him until he cautiously grabbed it.

"The blade is made of glass. What use is a glass dagger?"

"The Thorn of Spite. It was made to kill one man who is better off dead, and is sufficient for that purpose." The first of the enchantments I'd sealed onto the dagger activated, transcribing a storage seal onto his skin. The dagger automatically entered, and the seal hid itself. "It will show itself in the event your eyes fail you. You will know who you must kill then." Unencumbered of the dagger, I was able to move far away in an instant.

And then I came back. "Just to be clear, the dagger isn't for suicide."

He snorted. "Yeah, I figured." I disappeared again. He stared at his palm. "The hell was that?"

[girl-of-a-thousand-universes]

In the Deep End.

A/N: I was on holiday when I got the idea for this. First time writing and posting so criticism welcome but be gentle.

Gif not my own.

As we swing round the corner the dimly lit motel sign comes back into view. The lights flicker on and off repeatedly accompanied by the faint electronic buz. Granted it's trying to look like a reputable place and with only two of the letters broken completely it's already miles ahead than some of our previous stays.

As the engine of the Chevy chunders to a stop I fish for my room key from my inside jacket pocket. While this would seem like the best place to keep it I was quickly proven wrong when the I was thrown across a caban only a few hours earlier, landing gracefully on my face causing the hard metal to briefly stab against my chest. All things aside it's safe to say we all came away with worse injuries then a small key jab.

Vampires it would seem, don't take too well to Dean's Twilight jokes, even if they are about 4 years too late. Speaking of Dean is the one to finally break the comfortable silence.

"Right, I'm off to grab some food and beer. Either of you want anything?" Thankfully we took liberties of changing before we set off from the hunt. Sitting in a car for two hours covered in mud, blood and sweat is never fun.

I shake my head " No thanks, still got my supply from our last run" Sam also shakes his is and pat's his brother twice on the shoulder.

"Thanks Dean but I'm good"

As we both make our way out of the car Dean pokes his head over the passenger seat. "Fine but don't think you can come crawling back when you get hungry." The grin across his face is playful although we all know there is a hint of truth behind the statement. With a quick wave goodbye Sam and I make our way to our separate rooms. Sam always been the gentleman takes me right up to my door despite the fact we are only two rooms apartment. Still he insists apon it. Not that you would expect any less from him it's only in his nature to take care of others first and himself second.

I turn around once inside my door and I can see him quickly scanning the room behind. I slowly step backwards, switching the lights on as a go. Once in the middle of the room I do a rather dramatic 180. With my hands outstretched beside me."See Sammy, no monsters." I pick up my bed covers and check underneath just to wind him up a little. "They must have got the memo that we have clocked off for the night. Now please go and please go to bed you haven't slept in days"

With a gental sigh and a quick smile he accepts the order. "Okay Lucy, but if you need anything you know where to find me" He takes one final sweep of the room before he makes his way down to his own. I keep my door open until I hear the locks click on his and shutting it I make my way to the window at the far side. Glancing down I can see nothing but the empty fields behind however a faint blue glow right down in the corner catches my eye. Shifting again so I have a better view I spot something that you wouldn't expect in a place like this. A dimly lit pool sat in the corner surrounded by hedging and discarded toys and floats. Due to it now being well into the early morning it was empty and I couldn't help but admire the calmness of the water. Baths are a luxury as it is but a swimming pool now that was gold when living life on the road.

I put my childish urges to bed along with myself, kicking my boots and clothes off as I went. Sitting my phone down to charge I wrapped myself into the covers and drifted off to sleep.

Or at least I tried. Whether it was my come down from the hunt or the lure of the pool my usual always sleepy self just couldn't settle. An hour past and Dean had already made his way back and by the snoring next door I could only guess that the food and the beer had gone amis for the night. Letting my curiosity get the better of me I scramble out of bed and putting my clothes on I make my way out of the room. Not forgetting my phone and gun of course. I'm curious not an idiot.

I make my way to the pool.Passing the sleeping attendent in the office and climbing over the rather pathetic gate I check the area before kneeling down next to the water. Surprisingly it was warm and as if all my tiredness and aches from the fight before hit me all at once all I wanted to do was drive in. So I did.

My clothes were once more disposed of and with only my underwear I sank into the water. I took my time slowly swimming up and down the small pool allowing the water to massage away any stress that remained. Time passed and I propped my back up against the edge next to where my phone and gun sat and rested my head back.

The moment was very quickly interrupted however when I heard the rattling of the metal fence that I vaulted over previously and heavy foot steps coming my way. Turning around I grab my gun but before I can make my way out of the water a tall broad shadow comes into view.

"Don't shoot. Don't shoot!" A panicked whisper echoes around the water. Recognizing his voice I lower my gun.

"Sam what are you doing sneaking up on me like that!"

"I know, I know I'm sorry. I heard footsteps past my room before and then you didn't answer you phone so I got worried and erm.." his eyes glaced down into the water and an awkward cough escaped him .." so I thought I'd make sure you were alright...Didn't expect you to be here of all places" he smiled clearly amused by my adventure.

I blushed suddenly aware of my own state of undress and how silly this looked. Deciding to put my embaressment aside I go for a playful approach. Kicking my feet of the edge of the pool I swim backwards keeping my eyes fixed to Sam. "I personally don't see what wrong with this." I gesture underneath the water. "We never get to just relax and it's warm and peaceful..makes a nice change don't ya think?" I tilt my head above the water and his head mimics mine clearly trying to figure out where I'm going with this.

"Sure, but.."

"So come on then." I interject making my way towards him now. "What you waiting for Sammy? Clearly you can't sleep either and it's not hurting anyone"

He breathes out a short laugh before taking a step back as I now reach the edge. "No way. Definitely not" Unfortunately for him I have other plans. Before he can take another step back I push myself up and out of the pool to grab his hand. Using my feet on the edge and all my strength I pull him forward and we both go tumbling under the water.

I push myself above the surface and come face to face with Sam. His long brown hair is now limp and clinging to his face and he is puffing air trying to catch his breath after my assault. He steadies his breathing and brushes his hair from his eyes which travel to meet mine. I stop paddling in the water and wait for his reaction only a second goes past but I can already feel the guilt building up. I open my mouth to apologise but before any noise can escape I am met with a wave of water over my face.

I recover from the shock and a smile spreads across our faces and we both begin to laugh. Moments like this a rare, where even for a short while you feel genuinely happy. Too many people get hurt or lost on this job and the constant battling can take its toll. So we stay. Two grown adults playing like toddlers in a pool. Swimming and splashing keeping our laugh and taunts muted as to not get caught. Little water pistols that were discarded by their previous owners are now our primary weapons as we stalking each other round the pool. For a tactical advantage Sam's flannel over shirt and boots have now been discarded and while he is distracted by placing his last shoe down on the side I decide to go in for the kill. I take leap forward getting ready to squirt the gun at his face when I lose my footing causing me to go over my ankle head first into the water. Breathing in from the pain that twinged from my foot I take in a gulp of water as I surge under.

I don't have long to gather my thoughts as a feel Sam's arms wrap around my hoisting me above the water. He holds me to him as I cough and splitter intake of water. When I regain my breath he loosens his grip but doesn't fully release me. He looks down at me with his eyes full of concern. " You okay Lucy?" His voice his soft and low and with the close proximity I can barely hear it over my heart beat.

I look over the younger brothers face. You can't deny that Sam Winchester is not gorgeous as much as I have personally tried too. Everyone knows that getting involved with the Winchesters on a professional level was bad but personal? Let's just say Sam ex track record has a reputation.

Still over the past weeks and even months you have felt your resolve slip. The little walks to your room, patching him up after a fight, helping him on supply runs, goofing around even just seeing that smile of his started to break down your walls.Your mind was racing and subconsciously your body edged closer to him. You needed to tell him how you felt as it all became very real very quickly.

But before you could piece together a coherent thought Sam dipped his down and placed a whisper of a kiss on your lips. He pulled back just as fast as it had happened and your mind was still. Without a moments hesitation you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him back to you while also tangling your legs around his waist. Your kiss was not as ginger as his. It was hot and hungry. All your pent up feeling came bursting out at once and you yearned for more. Thankfully he obliged, spinning you both round so that you were trapped between the pools edge and his strong body.

______________________________________________

Please let me know what you think. I know it's choppy but wanting to set into writing but I know it needs work.

[kyaranflowers]

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 66 of 83 : World of Sea

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 66 of 83

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

copyright 2020

written 2007

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users   of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may   reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information   remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in   my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical   compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story?  Read from the beginning.  PART 1 is here

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“Yes,” said Kurin, suddenly serious, “I do.  I have had a huge responsibility thrust upon me.  My fleet, the same one that raised you as a human, has made a disastrous mistake.  They have violated the Second Great Law in regard to the Grandalor.  The Grandalor needs a fair trial in which to be found innocent or guilty of the charges that have outlawed her.

“I know that you are aware of the problem because you prevented the Grandalor from running away for just that reason.  I have agreed to defend them in that trial.  I need to know a few things.”

“Ask, Little Fish.  If I know it, I will answer.”

“I trust Tanlin.  Is what she has told me the truth?”

“So far as she is aware.  She has not lied to you.  She did try to protect the man that she loves by not telling all the truth.  You found that out for yourself when Barad told you of his involvement.”

“Tanlin looks so much like Kurti.  What is their connection?”

“As you have been told, they were cousins who never truly met.  The Orcas celebrated Kurti.  She is gone.”

“I don’t trust Barad.  What he told me is frightening.  Has he told me the truth?”

“Bard has given up on trying to save himself.  He believes that the Naral fleet will use any pretext to execute him.  He is trying to save his wife and his ship.  He has told you only one untruth and that was to save a friend who was instrumental in changing his mind about harming you.  No evidence exists to prove the lie.”

“But can I trust him?”

“I cannot see the future.  I never thought that I would say this but I trust him.  You will have to make up your own mind.”

“Can you tell me a story, Cat?”

“What about?”

“How the First Men came to Sea and the making of the first ships.”

“That is a difficult tale to tell.  I do not know all of it myself, and part of it I cannot tell.”

“Tell me what you can, then.”  Kurin nestled more comfortably, rearranging the warm tentacles of her friend into a new nest and prepared to listen.  She was happily remembering how, years ago, she had nestled in Cat’s human seeming lap and listened to stories of long ago.   A few feet away, on the deck, Tanlin perched herself on the rail and prepared to listen as well.

Mecat started in a quiet voice.

The tale begins somewhat more than a thousand Gatherings ago.  There were no men on Sea at all.  The First Men crossed the Dark Sea in a single large ship that sailed on the fire of sunlight.  I cannot tell you where the Dark Sea is or how they crossed it.  Those must remain mysteries.

They wanted a place with dry land, not craziness or forgetfulness or foolishness as you use the term today. They wanted a place where their children could run and play and stand without a deck underfoot. A solid place.  Like no place on all of Sea.  Their coming here was a mistake that they could not remedy by any means at their disposal.

Their ship could return across the Dark Sea.  It simply could not carry the First Men with it.  Special provisions were needed for that journey and they could not get them here.

The First Men and their friends on the ship of sunlight and fire were in a desperate fix.  Humans could not live on Sea.  At least, not for long.  They had no choice, though.  The First Men had to stay.  If they did not, they and all of their friends on their ship would die before they could return.  Their vessel would be lost as well. Staying was a horrible choice but the right one.  By it they saved their friends and their ship.

They were ingenious, those First Men.  They could make cloth from sand by stretching the grains into long fibers.  They combined the fibers and cloth with a material much like the Glue that you know.  That is what they made the First Ships out of.

Those First Ships were not as good as the ships that you make now but they sufficed.  In the thousand Gatherings since those First Men came, you have learned much.

The First Men tried to make a sort of Dry Land to stand upon.  It was both magnificent and a folly.  They made huge piers of cement like you still use to make anchorages today.  These were set into the coral of a shallow reef and bridged over with enormous platforms like building rafts but far bigger.

Everything was raised up above the water.  On this strange device many of them lived and stayed on decks that never moved at all.

One of our Coriolis storms swept over the place and the platforms were damaged badly.  We would not have let the storm hit their platforms if we had known that it would do so much harm.  Unfortunately, we had not yet seen Humans and their works were unknown to us.

The Orcas had told us of a new thing on the water of Sea but we had not seen it yet.  After that storm the First Men had already realized that the platforms were not safe places.  They had abandoned the platforms for the safety of the First Ships by the time that we found them.

The biggest problem that they faced was how to survive.  They were going to slowly die for the lack of certain things in their food.  That was in the time of Jenn, the Whales’ Friend.  The whole trouble with First Men and the Orcas surfaced and that brought you all under our care where you have remained to this day.

The First Men had another difficulty.  Everything that they needed for making the sand cloth and the glue that they used to use was damaged or destroyed with the loss of their platforms.

Everyone knows how we helped the First Men to make the First True Ships.  Now, men all over Sea build ships and never wonder what to make them out of or how to make a sail or rope.  There was a time when the First Men had to learn all of that.

We were there to help.

One fact from that time remains true to this day.  We like your kind, Little Fish.  When the Orcas showed us the new things on the surface of Sea, those First Men, we set to work at once to find what your kind needed.  The small, fast breeding skelt we changed just a little.  They provided your ancestors with part of the food that they lacked.

Dari pointed out that the paddle duck’s eggs could be made to give you the some of the other things that you needed.  She saw to the change in such a way that the paddle duck benefited as well.

The last thing that your kind, the First Men, needed came from a common floating weed.  Red weed already had the kind of nutrient that you needed but only a tiny bit.  We made it have more.

That is the story of how the First Men came to Sea, and how they managed to live.  They had a welcome and help that they did know of and some help that they did not know of.  Since then, the Orca whales have helped us to watch all that your kin have done and we are glad that we helped.

“So, t’e people o’ Sea owe t’eir very lives t’ ye an’ t’e ot’er Groit Dragons?” Tanlin asked from her perch on the rail.

“Yes, and now you know why everybody likes to eat red weed, paddle duck eggs, and skelt.  

“Could you please take this Little Fish of mine?  She seems like she’s about to go to sleep.”

“A pleasure,” Tanlin replied, reaching out and gently extricating Kurin from Mecat’s tentacles.

Nestling into Tanlin’s arms Kurin protested, “I’m not sleepy, really I’m not.  It just feels so good to be held again.  I really missed you, Cat.”

“And I missed you too, Little Fish.  We will talk again soon.  I promise.” With that the huge head of Blind Mecat slid beneath the waves, leaving Kurin safe in the warm human arms of Tanlin.

TO BE CONTINUED

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