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pin-k-ink · 7 months ago

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rapture // illumi zoldyck

tw ⇢ enemies to lovers, assassin!reader, possessive!illumi, love confessions, sexual tension, teasing, grinding, dry humping, mentions of violence and injuries, overstimulation, making out, public sex, unprotected sex, squirting, begging, dirty talk, pet names, mild breeding kink, biting, manhandling, anal sex, mentions of marriage and pregnancy

wc ⇢ 16.1k

The ritzy hotel loomed ahead, all glass and gleaming opulence. You triple checked the dossier's details as you approached, though you hardly needed to. The shady businessman's daily routines, rotation of private security, all of it was committed to memory. This was meant to be a quick, seamless job - tail the mark to his swanky penthouse suite, neutralize him while he was alone, then disappear like a whisper back into the night.

At least, that was the plan before you noticed the other set of footprints in the bathroom's plush carpeting.

You froze, senses accelerating as your fingertips grazed the slender blade tucked against your forearm. Someone else was here, possibly another hired gun with the same grisly orders. But those prints were too perfect, too controlled to be some amateur's clumsy work.

No...you knew that purposeful, predatory tread all too well.

The bathroom door's lock clicked open and you whirled, weapon drawn, as a tall figure slipped inside. Even in the dimness, those reflective dark eyes and long raven hair were achingly familiar...and dangerous.

"You..." you hissed lowly.

Illumi regarded you coolly, utterly unfazed by having a knife leveled inches from his chest. Of course he wouldn't flinch - you'd never seen this man throw an assassin so much as blink, let alone show fear.

"We seem to have been hired for the same contract," he said flatly, not a hint of inflection.

Your jaw clenched as the two of you stared each other down. Of all the elite assassins spanning the globe, you had to cross paths with Illumi Zoldyck on this job. The one killer whose skills, whose ruthless reputation, could potentially rival your own.

And the one man who, despite yourself, you could feel an electric, unsettling charge sizzling between...

Illumi's obsidian eyes remained carefully impassive as they raked over you. You couldn't tell if he sensed that same crackling tension or if he simply viewed you as another obstacle to circumvent on this assignment. Knowing Illumi's icy detachment, it was likely the latter.

"I don't share contracts," you stated firmly, keeping your blade leveled. "Especially not with you."

"How unfortunate," Illumi murmured in that maddeningly even tone. "Because I've no intention of walking away from this job. Or you."

A tremor ran through you at those last two words, quiet but weighted with Something you couldn't let yourself dwell on. You were the best at what you did, same as Illumi, and neither of you became so lethally elite by allowing distractions.

And yet...you couldn't ignore the way your breath grew shallower, how the air seemed to thicken and churn with that inscrutable energy passing between your bodies. This wasn't going to be as straightforward as you'd planned.

Desperate to regain your composure, you aimed for nonchalance - the only way to get under Illumi's perspicacious stare. Deliberately, you dragged your gaze over his lean frame in an appreciative once-over.

"My, my..." You tsked, allowing a teasing lilt to enter your tone. "No wonder you're so sought after in our line of work. That lithe form seems perfectly suited for stealth...among other intriguing applications."

You watched with no small amount of satisfaction as Illumi's jaw tightened near-imperceptibly at your suggestive words. Score one for actually getting a reaction.

"You're incorrigible," he stated flatly. "And severely lacking in professionalism on the job."

"Oh lighten up, you know how to have a little fun, don't you?" You took a deliberate step closer, watching Illumi tense ever-so-slightly as you invaded his personal space. "Unless cold...unfeeling...killer is simply your natural state?"

Your heated words seemed to spark something deep behind those unfathomable dark eyes. A fleeting glimmer of emotion - irritation, attraction, you couldn't tell. But it was there, buried under icy layers of ruthless control.

"Fun..." Illumi echoed the word like it tasted foreign on his tongue. His piercing stare remained locked on you. "I'm beginning to think your definition of that differs greatly from mine."

"Is that so?" You clicked your tongue in faux disappointment. "Well then, maybe you'll have to show me your version instead. Could be...enlightening."

The heated undercurrent between you was becoming unmistakable now, no matter how steadfastly Illumi tried to remain impassive. He was an impregnable fortress, to be sure. But you were an expert at cracking even the most stubborn defenses.

And you had a feeling once you wormed your way inside Illumi's walls, you'd find something exquisitely, savagely intriguing lying in wait.

Illumi's gaze remained inscrutable as it raked over you appraisingly. "Your attempts at seduction are transparently amateur at best. I expected more from someone of your...reputation."

You barked out a laugh at his cutting remark. "Is that a challenge I detect, Mr. Zoldyck? Because you're playing a very dangerous game, trying to provoke me like that."

"I don't do games," Illumi stated coolly. "I deal in absolutes, in realities. And the reality is that only one of us will be completing this contract tonight."

He closed the distance between you in a few measured strides, his imposing frame now looming mere inches away. From this proximity, you could make out the faintest ethereal scent of sandalwood and steel clinging to him. It was utterly intoxicating.

"So I'll ask you once more," Illumi's words were lethally soft. "Will you walk away willingly? Or am I forced to make you..."

The unspoken threat hung heavy in the charged air. You knew Illumi was utterly capable of neutralizing you here and now if he deemed it necessary. The fact that he seemed to be offering you an out, however slim, was...curious.

Unable to resist pushing further, you tilted your head in a studiously nonchalant manner. "You know...if you wanted me on my back, you could have simply asked nicely."

A heartbeat of loaded silence passed. Then another. Illumi's expression remained that maddening blank slate, not rising to your deliberately crass implication even as the tension thickened palpably.

Just when you were about to goad him again, the faintest of smirks played across those soft lips.

"There's that lack of professionalism again," he murmured. "Though I can't decide if it's merely incessant or...intriguing."

Your breath hitched slightly at the undercurrent beneath those words. Was the infamous Illumi Zoldyck, cold-blooded killer extraordinaire, actually flirting with you?

Recovering quickly, you leaned in until your lips were a hairsbreadth from his. Close enough to feel his exhales ghosting across your skin in tantalizing puffs.

"Why don't you get a little closer and find out?"

Illumi didn't so much as flinch at your brazen advance. His dark, fathomless gaze remained locked with yours as one corner of his mouth curved upwards in a maddening half-smirk. "Tempting...but I'll have to decline. At least for now."

Before you could process his words, he moved with blurring speed. One moment he was mere inches away, the next his muscular frame was pressed flush against yours, backing you up until your spine met the wall with a soft thump.

Illumi braced one hand beside your head, effectively caging you in with his body as he leaned down. Those slightly parted lips brushed a scorching path maddeningly close to your own before veering aside at the last moment. Instead, you felt the barest whisper of breath fanning along the heated skin of your neck.

"I do hope you'll make this interesting for me," he all but purred, voice dipped in something sinfully dark. "I'd hate to be...underwhelmed by your skills so early in our...partnership."

A tremor ran through you at the implication in that last word. Despite his impassive facade, there was no mistaking the molten undercurrent flickering behind Illumi's eyes now. You'd sparked something primal awake in the infamous assassin, something he clearly didn't experience often.

And a reckless part of you couldn't wait to stoke those smoldering embers into an inferno.

Regaining your composure, you arched a challenging brow. "Oh, don't you worry about me keeping things interesting," you practically purred. "In fact, I promise to take your breath away before the night is over."

Illumi regarded you with an inscrutable look for a heavy beat, as if weighing your brazen promise. Then, in one sinuous motion, he stepped back and put a calculated sliver of space between your bodies once more.

"We'll see about that," he stated evenly, though you didn't miss the faint huskiness edging his inflection now. "For the moment, I suggest we return our focus to the task at hand."

You fought not to visibly react as Illumi gestured towards the door leading to the mark's penthouse suite. As if either of you could so easily disengage from the potent tension still crackling between you like a livewire.

Nodding once, you forced yourself to slip back into professional mindset, sheathing your blade with a practiced flick of your wrist. "Lead the way then. I'll be right behind you."

The words carried a deliberate double meaning that wasn't lost on Illumi if his momentary side-eye was any indication. Still, he turned on his heel and started down the hallway without another word.

As you fell into step behind the assassin, you allowed your gaze to linger appreciatively on the powerful shoulders beneath his fitted suit, the lithely coiled muscles in his arms and back that you knew all too well could snap a man's neck with grotesque ease. There was an undeniable, unsettling allure to Illumi's lethal grace.

You couldn't quite put your finger on what had changed between the two of you in these past heated moments. The razor-edged chemistry had been lurking for months, years even, every time your jobs brought you into the other's orbit. but tonight that simmering tension had suddenly been stoked into roaring life, quickly spiraling out of control.

And despite the small, rational voice warning this was a reckless game to play with as elite a killer as Illumi Zoldyck...you couldn't shake the feeling that you were both helplessly, inexorably, caught up in the thrilling inferno.

Reaching the mark's private entrance, Illumi paused and slanted you a weighted look over one shoulder. A silent challenge glimmered in those midnight depths.

Game on then.

Lifting your chin boldly, you brushed past him and took the lead, making sure your body grazed his with deliberate suggestion as you did so. You heard his soft intake of breath behind you and hid a smile.

Let the games begin.

With Illumi trailing slightly behind, you took point and stealthily picked the lock to the penthouse entrance. Normally a task like this would require your full, focused concentration. But with your senses tantalizingly attuned to the silent predator shadowing your every move, you found your mind wandering.

What game was Illumi playing at? This wasn't his usual cold, detached modus operandi when handling contracted hits. No, there was an undeniable spark flickering behind that unreadable facade now. A banked sort of heat smoldering in those obsidian eyes whenever they raked over you with pointed intent.

You risked a glance over your shoulder. Sure enough, Illumi's piercing gaze was trained squarely on the curve of your backside as you bent over the lock mechanism. Not even attempting subtlety anymore, was he?

Unable to resist prodding that newfound fire, you made a show of slowly rising back to your full height and stretching your arms overhead with an exaggerated breath. Your shirt riding up just enough to expose a taunting strip of toned midriff.

The loaded moment stretched between you before Illumi finally spoke, voice raspier than usual. "If you're quite finished delaying..."

You turned with an innocent look. "Why, whatever do you mean? I'm simply preparing myself for the challenge ahead."

Holding his stare, you traced a deliberate fingertip down the valley between your breasts, letting it trail down your abdomen slowly before dropping your hand. "Gotta stay...limber."

Illumi's jaw tensed infinitesimally but he remained otherwise impassive as always. "Your attempts at distraction are obvious. And fruitless. I don't lose focus so easily."

"Is that so?" You arched one brow teasingly before spinning back towards the door and finall finishing your work on the lock tumblers. "We'll see about that."

The pneumatic hiss of the door unsealing echoed like a sly promise. Slipping inside the darkened penthouse, you felt the frisson of Illumi's tall frame entering behind you with predatory grace.

The game was most definitely afoot now. You couldn't wait to see who would be declared the winner once all the players' simmering desires were finally, deliciously sated.

The penthouse suite was cloaked in inky shadows, though both you and Illumi could navigate the darkness with preternatural ease. Silently, you swept through the grandiose living area, senses attuned to any potential security triggers or signs of the mark's whereabouts.

A slight shift of air current against your back alerted you to Illumi's stealthy approach from behind. You tensed instinctively as his presence materialized at your side, so close you could feel the subtle body heat rolling off him in waves.

"He's not here," Illumi murmured, low enough that his warm breath fanned along the sensitive skin of your neck. "The bedroom."

You refused to allow his intentional proximity to rattle you, squaring your shoulders. "After you then."

Illumi's lips quirked in a near-imperceptible smirk before he brushed past you purposefully. You had to resist the urge to shiver as the movement brought your bodies into fleeting alignment, front to back. Just for a moment, you could have sworn you felt the barest graze of his fingertips trailing along your hip.

Get a grip, you chided yourself. He's just trying to throw you off your game again.

Although...if that was indeed Illumi's aim, you had to grudgingly admit it was working. Being this close to the enigmatic assassin's raw, coiled power set your nerves pleasantly buzzing with a strange sort of static charge. Like you were a live wire just waiting to surge into blinding arc of current given the right spark.

Shaking off the tingling distraction, you followed Illumi down the hall towards the bedroom. You both moved with the same unhurried yet purposeful hunter's stride, bodies gliding in a strange tandem sync. Like two cosmic bodies pulled into an ever-tightening orbit, unable to resist the other's inescapable pull.

The smoldering tension thrummed steadily between you with each measured footfall. More heated and palpable by the second as your blood sang in rising anticipation.

Whatever happened once you reached your destination tonight, one thing was becoming undeniably clear - neither of your lives would be the same after.

To your surprise, the bedroom door was left slightly ajar and a thin slice of amber lamplight spilled out from within. Illumi slowed imperceptibly before easing up beside it, flattening himself to the wall as he angled his body to peer cautiously through the opening.

When his gaze cut sharply back in your direction a beat later, the fire glimmering there caused a shiver of awareness to lick straight down your spine.

Beckoning you over with one subtle hand gesture, Illumi then tilted his chin towards the bedroom in a silent directive for you to take a look as well.

You swallowed hard before moving to slip in behind his formidable frame. Despite yourself, your pulse kicked up several notches as you leaned past Illumi, basking in his masculine scent - a dizzying combination of adrenaline and some smoky spice that ignited liquid heat low in your belly...

Forcing your mind to focus, you peered through the gap and felt your breath catch in your throat at the scene within.

The mark was indeed present. And he most definitely was not alone.

The bedroom was awash in flickering amber light from the fireplace, casting the two figures tangled amidst the rumpled sheets in a sultry warm glow. The businessman you'd both been hired to eliminate was very much alive and obliviously preoccupied...thoroughly engaged in intimate activities with a scantily clad woman.

You felt Illumi shift minutely behind you as he too registered the unexpectedly compromising scene. The heat of his firm chest pressed fractionally closer along the line of your back until you could almost feel the measured cadence of his breaths ghosting the nape of your neck. The intimate proximity made your pulse spike deliciously.

"Well..." you murmured, keeping your voice a hushed whisper meant only for Illumi's ears. "This certainly complicates matters."

"Does it?" came his silken response, his mouth now so tantalizingly close that his lips very nearly grazed the sensitive shell of your ear with each syllable. "I was under the impression you...preferred things deliciously complicated, my dear."

A shiver traced your spine at the velvety endearment, at the way his inflection caressed those last two words. You risked a glance over your shoulder to find Illumi's gaze locked on you with banked intensity, those dark obsidian depths flickering like the flames in the other room.

Unable to resist a little prodding, you arched one brow at him teasingly. "Why Illumi...are you suggesting we take notes on their...technique?"

A loaded pause. Then finally, the barest ghost of a smirk curved those soft lips as Illumi leaned in fractionally closer until the two of you were sharing the same heated breath between parted mouths.

"Only if you think you can keep up," he murmured, rich voice dipping into a low, gravelly register that flooded your veins with liquid fire. "After all, I'd hate to...overwhelm you before we've even really gotten started."

Despite the bravado, his dark gaze remained trained intently on your face, watching, searching for any flicker of reaction to his boldly suggestive words. Seeking out that first fissure where he could apply calculated pressure and finally shatter your meticulously maintained control.

Well...two could most definitely play at that game.

With slow, exaggerated intent, you brushed back the silken lock of hair that had slipped over Illumi's forehead until your fingertips were cradling the strong angle of his jaw. Feeling his muscles twitch ever so slightly beneath your touch as his gaze morphed into smoky embers.

"I thought you'd never ask," you practically purred, allowing your lips to graze the barest whisper along the stubbled hinge of that chiseled jaw as you spoke. Close enough to taste the heated tang of his skin on your tongue. "Lead the way then, Mr. Zoldyck. And do try to keep up with me."

For one electric moment caught in crystal suspension, Illumi looked very much like he was considering simply slamming you back against the nearest surface and finally slaking the ravenous want blazing between you.

Then, like the steady click of a reloaded round sliding into chamber, his impenetrable mask of control descended once more. Not quite banked...but stoked into a raging, unholy inferno blazing behind those unfathomable dark eyes.

"Perhaps another time," he rasped in a tone that could have scored steel. "We have a job to complete."

With immense force of will, you managed to tear your eyes away from the molten promise simmering in Illumi's gaze. Turning your attention back towards the bedroom, you attempted to refocus on the mission at hand despite the thundering of your pulse.

The mark was still entangled with his female companion, utterly oblivious to the two elite assassins lurking just outside. Their breathless cries and the rhythmic creaking of the bedframe provided a perversely intimate soundtrack that only stoked the banked embers flickering between you and Illumi.

You were vividly aware of the assassin's powerful frame pressed along the line of your backside as you both watched the couple's wanton movements through the cracked doorway. So close, in fact, that you could feel the scorching path of his eyes boring into your body as he drank in every minute reaction.

Despite the fire simmering low in your belly, you couldn't resist one last heated provocation.

Keeping your voice a hushed whisper, you murmured just loudly enough for Illumi's ears alone, "You know...they don't seem to be lacking inspiration at the moment."

You felt the subtle hitch of his breath against your nape at the words, savoring your small victory with no small amount of satisfaction. The upper hand was yours again...for now at least.

"However," you continued, deliberately allowing your hips to cant back fractionally until they brushed against Illumi in suggestion. "If you feel you need more...hands-on education before we proceed, I'm certainly amenable to providing it."

This time there was no mistaking the rasping exhale that spilled from between Illumi's lips, hot and harsh against your sensitized skin. You fought not to shiver at the banked lust given voice in those airless syllables.

"Keep pushing me," he all but growled, the low timbre seeming to vibrate straight through your bones. "And you may get more of an...education than you bargained for, little assassin."

The heated endearment twisted like a brand straight to your core. Your back arched instinctively, pressing your body flush against Illumi's powerful frame before you regained control. But it was too late - the damage had already been wrought.

Illumi dipped his head until his mouth hovered a hairsbreadth from the juncture of your neck and shoulder, his warm breaths fanning torrid patterns of promise along your heated skin. When he spoke again, the words seemed to sear you to your very marrow.

"The real question is...are you finally ready to stop playing games and give in to this?" One calloused finger traced a scorching path down your bodice until it reached the lush swell of your breasts. " Because I promise you, once that line is crossed, there'll be no going back."

In that breathless moment of shared hunger, the rest of the world seemed to fall away until there was nothing else but the two of you. Adversaries, allies, would-be lovers hovering on the exquisite precipice of the inevitable. A yawning chasm of uncharted rapture beckoned just beyond that razor's thin line.

All it would take was one of you finally gathering the courage to let go and leap into the howling abyss. To see where these shuddering tremors of desire ultimately led when allowed to detonate their full, cataclysmic force.

Who would be the one to finally summon the will to take that first step over the edge?

The heated tension thrummed like a livewire between your bodies as you stared one another down through the cracked bedroom door. Illumi's piercing gaze seemed to burn straight through you, sparking liquid fire in your veins and stoking the deepening ache low in your belly.

This had gone far enough. If you didn't act soon, there was no telling how much further this delirious game of provocations could escalate before one of you inevitably combusted.

Squaring your shoulders, you forced your expression into one of taunting nonchalance despite your rabbiting pulse. "Well? Are we going to keep wasting time out here gawking? Or are you finally ready to make your move, assassin?"

A muscle ticked in Illumi's taut jaw as his stare remained unwaveringly intense. You could have sworn his pupils blew wider at your heated challenge. Then, so fast you barely registered the movement, he was on you.

One moment he was a hairsbreadth away, the next your back collided with the wall in a harsh thump. Illumi's powerful frame caged you in as he braced one forearm beside your head, effectively pinning you in place with the hard lines of his body.

"My move?" His voice was little more than a low, gravel-laced rasp against the heated hollow below your ear. "I'm waiting for you to stop playing coy and take what you really want..."

The taunt hung heavy between you, igniting sparks of liquid fire wherever Illumi's body brushed against yours with his slowly decreasing restraint. You could feel the restrained power thrumming through those coiled muscles, the barely leashed predator straining against the final tatters of its restraint.

This was it then. The tipping point where one of you would finally have to take that first, irrevocable plunge and allow the tenuous threads binding you to unravel.

Part of you thrilled at the inevitability of it, at the forbidden knowledge of how utterly incandescent that long-banked inferno would blaze once stoked into full, blinding life. While another part still whispered urgent warnings about the reckless road you were careening towards.

With Illumi pinning you in place and those dark eyes burning molten promise, it would be all too easy to let your resistance finally shatter. To reach out with both hands and pull that lithe, powerful frame against yours while giving in to the howling demands of your body.

To simply let go and allowed yourself to be consumed by the all-encompassing maelstrom.

But you were no helpless victim to your urges - you were a master of discipline, just like Illumi. Which meant you still had one final game to play.

Summoning every last vestrige of your rapidly deteriorating control, you slid your palms up the lacquered plane of Illumi's chest until they came to rest at the juncture of his throat. Letting your fingers brush torrid patterns along the thundering pulse you found there as you tilted your chin up in blatant defiance.

"What I want..." you breathed, allowing your lips to graze Illumi's with slow, searing intent. "Is for you to move out of my way so I can finish this job and collect my payment. All this delicious tension between us is doing nothing except distracting us both."

The barest fractional widening of Illumi's eyes indicated you'd scored a direct hit. Sensing your window of opportunity, you dropped one hand and allowed your fingertips to trace a scorching path down the taut ridges of his abdomen.

"Unless..." You punctuated the hushed whisper by pressing your palm firmly against the rapidly hardening bulge straining against Illumi's tailored slacks. "You'd like me to take care of this distraction for you first?"

For an electric seconds-lasted-eternity heartbeat, Illumi seemed to simply stop breathing altogether. His entire frame went terribly, utterly still apart from the subtle tic working his clenched jaw.

Then finally, after what felt like a small eternity had elapsed between you, he exhaled a single rough syllable. "...Vixen."

The word seemed to reverberate through you both with the distant promise of repercussions.

Your palm pressed firmly against the bulge in Illumi's slacks, allowing your fingers to brush tantalizingly as you murmured your heated challenge. For a suspended heartbeat, muscle ticked in the assassin's chiseled jaw as his obsidian gaze burned into you with molten intensity.

Then, so fast your lashes barely had time to part, Illumi's head dipped and his mouth crashed against yours in a searing, possessive kiss.

You gasped at the white-hot contact, allowing Illumi to deepen the liplock as one calloused hand fisted in your hair to angle your head. His other palm splayed scorchingly against the small of your back, pulling your bodies into rapturous alignment from chest to hip.

The world seemed to burn away until there was nothing but the exquisite friction of his firm planes melding with your softer curves. The dual infernos of your desire stoked higher and hotter with each harsh pants of shared breath and duel of roving tongues.

This was the precipice you'd been hovering over since first laying eyes on the enigmatic Illumi Zoldyck. The point of no return where control finally shredded and allowed your most vibrant urges to detonate into blinding supernova.

Except...you weren't quite ready to plunge over that edge into the abyss. Not yet.

Reaching deep for your last tattered remnants of focus, you allowed one hand to slink down Illumi's powerful backside. Your fingers brushed over the unmistakable shape of his concealed blade, causing the muscles there to twitch in anticipation.

Then, before he could process your gambit, you seized the hilt and wrenched the curved karambit free in one deft motion. Reversing your grip, you shoved hard against Illumi's chest and broke the heated clash of your bodies before whipping the blade up in alusty arc towards the bedroom.

His dark eyes blown wide in a mixture of disbelief and fiery approval as the weapon left a blurring contrail...straight towards the obliviously intertwined figures within.

There was a meaty thunk of impact followed by a truncated scream. But your focus had already shifted to the wide-eyed gape frozen on Illumi's patrician features, savoring every last micro-expression of his disarmed shock.

"Looks like I'll be the one collecting payment tonight after all," you murmured softly before turning on your heel and disappearing into the night.

After all, a girl had to keep her skills...polished for whatever came next.

In the weeks and months following your boldly audacious move against Illumi that night, your paths continued criss-crossing at an uncanny rate. Whether by design or some cruel twist of fate, it seemed the two of you were forever being hired to eliminate the same high-profile targets across the shadowy criminal underworld.

At first, your motivations for one-upping the other revolved solely around claiming the biggest payouts and cinching another notch on your respective body counts. The lucrative assassination contracts became an intense competition - a lethal game of one-upmanship between two masters vying for the same coveted prizes.

Your encounters started taking on an increasingly heated edge as the rivalry escalated. Cat-and-mouse games of sabotage, calculated attempts to undermine each other's efforts or eliminate the other from the playing field entirely. All bets were off when it came to claiming victory over your newfound nemesis.

And yet...you couldn't ignore the persistent, erotic tension that continued simmering like a banked fire no matter how viciously you clashed. The memory of Illumi's powerful frame pinning yours, the lingering phantom burn of his mouth branding your skin indelibly, remained burned into your psyche. Stoking the very embers that should have cooled after that first encounter.

Because despite the underhanded tactics, despite the barbed taunts and bristling antagonism, there was no mistaking the fire that flickered to lurid life in Illumi's lethal gaze whenever you were in proximity. You recognized the look, the molten promise that stormed behind those darkly impenetrable eyes.

This was more than just an intense competition between two elite assassins constantly trying to outmaneuver the other. No, this was a gauntlet thrown - a searing challenge issued between two all-too-willing players itching to dive back into the deliciously torrid inferno ignited that first explosive night.

A breathtaking game of carnal provocation and simmering want layered atop the dangerous, high-stakes duels to see who could claim the biggest prize. Who would ultimately emerge the victor didn't matter nearly as much as getting to sate the scorching need both of you were becoming hopelessly addicted to.

So the chase continued with escalating fervor, leading to increasingly bold displays of sabotage. Like the gala you infiltrated to take out a marks, only to have Illumi materialize like a specter in your periphery. One minute you were setting the kill stage, the next he was looming over you from behind, long fingers snaring your wrist to stay the killing blow as his lips brushed the brimming pulse at your throat.

"Going somewhere...little assassin?" came the dark purr laced with equal parts promise and provocation.

And just like that, the game was afoot once more. The renewed sparks of your heated rivalry fanned into a roaring blaze as you twisted in his steely grasp and lashed out in a vicious return strike. Driving Illumi back in a flurry of grappling limbs and hastily drawn blades as the sounds of the opulent party raged on in mocking ignorance just beyond the curtained alcove.

"I could ask you the same thing," you managed to grit out as the two of you traded blows. Each parry and riposte igniting fresh embers until it was impossible to tell whether your rapidly spiking pulses stemmed from the violence of battle...or something infinitely more primal drawing you both in like cosmic bodies caught in the other's irresistible orbit.

It was only a matter of time before one of your cataclysmic collisions saw that banked fire finally detonating into a conflagration that would consume you both utterly.

The real question was - would either of you have the strength of will to walk away from those searing ashes once the smoke finally cleared?

The intense game of one-upmanship and provocation continued escalating between you and Illumi over the next string of overlapping contracts. Cat-and-mouse games of sabotage and thwarting each other's efforts descended into something far more perilous - a high-stakes, high-adrenaline gauntlet fueled by simmering desire.

You couldn't deny the molten promise that flared white-hot in Illumi's obsidian stare every time your bodies moved through that dangerous danse macabre. The controlled violence of your clashing forms seeming to exist on some higher, erotically-charged plane with rules all its own.

One job saw the two of you grappling viciously in the shadows of an opulent wine cellar, blades whirring in feinting arcs. Heated breaths mingled as you strained against Illumi's powerful frame for dominance, chests heaving in exquisite exertion.

"Getting sloppy, little assassin?" he rasped against the sweat-slicked curve of your neck as one calloused palm pinned your wrist with bruising force. "How terribly...undisciplined."

You snarled wordlessly and managed to wrench partially free, whipping your knee up towards his abdomen. Illumi twisted fluidly at the last second, avoiding the blow but leaving himself fractionally overextended in your personal space.

Seizing your fleeting window, you hooked one leg around his thigh and heaved with all your strength. The world spun in a blur as you reversed positions, slamming Illumi's shoulder blades against the cellar's stone floor with enough force to stun even his preternatural reflexes momentarily.

"You were saying?" you couldn't resist taunting as you used your weight to pin his hips immobile beneath yours. Your palms bracketing Illumi's chiseled features and your faces now only scant inches apart.

His gaze flickered with something utterly incendiary at your bold move. One corner of those soft lips quirked in the barest ghost of a smirk before he arched his lower body with dizzying strength.

The powerful undulation sent shockwaves of forbidden friction lancing through you both. Your breath left in a harsh gasp at the illicit heat now searing your limbs and core from such fleeting contact. Illumi's eyes glittered twin points of unholy promise at breaking through your control.

"My, my...such forthrightness," he practically purred, somehow managing to infuse those innocuous words with carnal sin. "Although if my memory serves, weren't you the one always pressing me to stop toying around and give in fully to our...indulgences?"

Your entire body went taut as tressed steel cords at the blatant callback to that first explosive encounter. The memory of Illumi's searing lips and merciless hands branding your pliant flesh with rapturous possession seared through your mind like a lightning strike. Igniting phantom brushfires in all the secret places his touch had roamed so devastatingly.

You opened your mouth, desperate to hurl back a cutting retort and snuff those banked embers before they could conflagrate completely out of control. But then Illumi shifted minutely, rolling his hips in one subtle, sinuous motion that dragged the jacquard ridge of his slacks against your molten core in the most obscene caress.

The throaty whimper that spilled from your lips would have embarrassed you if not for the exultant gleam that lit Illumi's gaze at the sound. You'd pressed too far and now, finally, the beast was roused to wakefulness. Ready to pursue its ravenous hunger to the only conclusion possible when denied for too ling.

"Well?" His voice had roughened to gravel, dark and dangerous with Alpha promise. "What's it to be, little assassin? Fight..." He punctuated the heated murmur by undulating his hips again in devastatingly perfect alignment. "Or flight?"

Despite the heated altercation in the wine cellar, where you and Illumi had teetered on the very precipice of allowing your combative passions to detonate into something cataclysmic, neither of you actually crossed that line. Not yet.

There were still too many unspoken boundaries, too much history and distrust bred into your very bones as elite assassins to simply let go so recklessly. You were both masters of restraint and discipline, after all. No matter how scorching the embers flickered between you, some part of your formidable natures wouldn't allow that inferno to fully immolate.

Not without a fight, at least.

So the game continued with renewed, blistering fervor. A gauntlet of sabotage, undermining, and all-out attempts to eliminate one another from the face of the earth whenever your latest target's trails intertwined. And yet, underneath the professional violence and searing glares...the undercurrent of bone-deep, electrifying want only intensified.

You became hyper-attuned to even Illumi's slightest movements, the way his lithe form uncoiled with leonine grace whenever you crossed paths. The anticipation built with every measured look exchanged, every blistering brush of heated bodies through the chaos of battle.

It was as if you were both engaging in some intricate occult ritual - dancing ever closer to the brink of total immolation through escalating circles of seduction and provocation. Stoking those banked embers hotter and brighter until they threatened to detonate into a conflagration that would raze your very souls.

The next job saw the two of you prowling the dimly-lit lesser echelons of Yorknew's underground aurodium exchange. Bitter professional rivals once more in pursuit of taking out a wealthy nerodist and claiming their bounty. And yet, the moment you registered Illumi's presence slinking through the rafters high above, a delicious frisson lanced straight to your very core.

With the ease of long practice, you slipped into the calculated motions of your craft. Felling guards with surgical efficiency while angling your assault towards the prime vantage that would allow you to spotting and eliminating the mark.

Only this time, as you moved into final position with your weapon prepped and sights aligned...you tracked the steady grip of Illumi's drawn blade from your periphery. Following the clean lines of those flexing forearms and upwards to find the other assassin's flinty gaze locked on you from across the cavernous space.

A lightning-struck heartbeat of bristling eye contact passed between you and you knew, with absolute certainty, that he'd marked you as his real target for the evening. Not your intended victim, but something far more primal and insatiable.

The tiniest fractional tilt of those sculpted lips curved into the ghost of his maddening half-smirk. An unspoken challenge blazed in the turbulent depths watching you with utterly unbroken intensity. A molten invitation to tear the world asunder and finally give in to the searing waltz you'd been breathlessly pursuing for months...years...

With him, there would be no holding back this time. No final shreds of control leashing the wildfire about to detonate if you surrendered to the ultimate provocation. This was the gauntlet centuries in the making - the ultimate collision between two unstoppable forces of nature who refused to be denied their cataclysmic release.

All it would take was a single shot, a hairsbreadth turn of your wrist adjusting your aim towards...

The weighted look you shared with Illumi across the cavernous underground exchange stretched into an infinitely charged moment. For a suspended heartbeat, the world seemed to go utterly still apart from the twin points of banked fire flickering in the other assassin's gaze.

A unspoken ultimatum simmered between you, laced with the dark promise that whatever this delirious game between you had been escalating towards all along...the tipping point was finally, inexorably here.

One subtle twitch of your gun's muzzle was all it would take to reject the insistent pull towards complete ruination. To turn your sights back towards the original mark, reignite the familiar dance of brinksmanship between professional adversaries, and walk away from the inferno altogether.

Or...

You could finally indulge the scorching, increasingly inescapable urge that seemed to howl through your every atom whenever Illumi's electrifying presence manifested nearby. Embrace the irresistible gravity drawing your bodies into nearer and nearer orbits with each smoldering exchange until the inevitable cosmic collision.

There would be no returning from that eternal plunge into rapturous oblivion should you choose to allow these tensions to finally detonate. No scrap of restraint or control remaining once you surrendered utterly to this deliciously untenable heat steadily reducing you both to cinders.

Illumi seemed to read the warring impulses battering you in that loaded moment. His chin dipped near-infinitesimally in a minute nod of understanding...and challenge. The next calculated inhalation saw his broad chest expanding subtly, rolling those taut pectoral ridges forward in a deliberate display of the coiled power thrumming beneath his tailored clothing.

It was a patently blatant gesture of provocation, one final taunt issued by a supremely Alpha predator impatient to rouse their prey into taking flight or standing their heated ground.

Your fingers tightened fractionally on your weapon's grip as that undeniable spark of adrenaline - of primal, churning want - ignited low in your abdomen. With each subsequent measured breath you were acutely aware of Illumi's piercing stare watching your every microreaction, hungrily searching for the instant your carefully cultivated control finally reached its terminal breaking point.

When the simmering lava flow of need you had both been so desperately attempting to dam finally found its inevitable lahar vent.

The molten promise flickered in your blood like a wildfire about to conflagrate into raging inferno. But you refused to be goaded quite so easily this time. Not when so much...so much uncharted potential for absolute rapture hung trembling in the balance.

No, if Illumi was finally ready to truly start this ancient dance anew, you were going to make the insufferable bastard work for his catharsis. Every... torturously...delicious...inch of the way.

Drawing your lips into a small, taunting smirk of your own, you allowed your gun's aim to drift lazily away from the foolish target cowering across the hall. Let the momentary confusion play out in Illumi's eyes even as the twin flames of anticipation and heated approval kindled brighter in those endlessly deep pools.

Then, with exaggerated indolence, you blew out a soft breath and adjusted your stance into an exquisite stretch that saw every lush curve of your body pulling taut against your form-fitting garments. Your tongue peeked out to lave a slow, deliberate pass across your lower lip as you drank in the thunderstruck look now suffusing Illumi's chiseled features.

If this was to be the opening overture to your ultimate freefall from the heavens...you were going to make certain every soul-searing note rang clearly.

The air itself seemed to thicken and churn with a palpable static charge as you boldly held Illumi's molten stare from across the sprawling exchange floor. This was it - the pivotal moment when one of you would finally have to be the first to recklessly leap over the yawning abyss separating professionalism from total rapturous ruination.

You could practically taste the scorching inevitability gathering like stormheads as Illumi's eyes raked over every subtle undulation of your provocative stretch. Hungrily drinking in the blatant offering presented by your arched spine and the tantalizing swell of your figure pulled taut against restrictive fabrics.

Deciding to further stoke those banked embers into an inferno, you allowed your free hand to slowly, exaggeratedly trail up the contours of your body. Fingertips tracing patterns of liquid fire from the dip of your navel, over the generous curves of your breasts, until finally coming to rest with pointed emphasis at the hollow of your throat.

You heard - or perhaps imagined, given the heated maelstrom battering your senses - Illumi's sharp inhalation from across the space separating your bodies. Like a wolf sent into hyperfocus by the first tantalizing notes of a howl carried through the underbrush.

Throwing your head back with deliberate indolence, you exposed the long pale column of your neck in unspoken invitation. A primal offering encoded into the most ancient submissive posturing...and a blatant challenge to the virile apex predator watching your every move with undisguised, ravenous intent.

Illumi's blade still hung at his side, utterly disregarded and forgotten in the wake of your escalating provocations. His stare had turned utterly unblinking, shoulders rising and falling in an irregular cadence as he seemed to commit every detail of your taunting display to smoldering memory.

This was quickly becoming untenable for you both. You could feel that final fraying thread of restraint thinning to a mere filament despite all your training, all your carefully cultivated icy control. Soon...so very soon one of you was bound to be the first to snap and finally give in to the howling needs baying for release.

A part of you thrilled with dark, lurid delight at the thought of utter surrender. To give in fully to this feverish, churning rapture and be unmade then remade anew in the searing, primal crucible promised by becoming intimately entwined with Illumi Zoldyck at long last.

But another part, that iron kernel of stubbornness and pride hardwired into your every atom, refused to simply give quarter so easily after coming this far. Let the pretentious assassin be the first to lose his way...to expose the chinks in his oh-so-indomitable armor of control.

A game of chicken, then. Pushing your taunts and provocations until that final spool of resistance began to splinter and fray completely. Daring the other to finally reach out and wrench apart the remaining tatters keeping your mutual inferno tightly banked.

You quirked one shapely brow in heated challenge as your palm continued its torturously languid trail up your sternum. Rolling your shoulders back to accentuate the profound swell of your breasts rising and falling with each increasingly ragged breath. Taking your time to adjust your stance and position just enough to ensure Illumi's darkly turbulent gaze drifted helplessly to the riot of movement.

Then, punctuating the silence that had gone utterly static in the air between you, your fingertips grazed maddeningly light patterns over the achingly sensitized skin above the neckline of your top.

"So, handsome...." you all but purred, giving voice to the sinful endearment that seemed to resonate like a thunderclap in the tiny cosmos contained within this electrified moment. "Ready to ante up? Or should I stop...wasting your time?"

The loaded silence that fell between you and Illumi seemed to stretch into a small eternity as the unspoken challenge hung white-hot in the thickened air. You could practically see the twin firestorms raging behind those depthless obsidian pools as he drank in your taunting words and provocative display.

For one faltering heartbeat, his harsh features appeared to fracture ever-so-slightly - that impenetrable façade of control cracking under the impossible strain you were ruthlessly exerting. Calloused fingers visibly flexed against the hilt of his forgotten blade as if contemplating simply hurling the weapon aside entirely.

Then, just as you began to savor the first fissures in his meticulously cultivated restraint...Illumi inhaled one measured breath through flared nostrils. Committing what seemed like every atom of his formidable willpower into steadying that hairline fracture from shattering wide open.

When his gaze finally returned to yours, it burned with searing intensity - but also something altogether more potent and inexorable. A primordial acknowledgment of the seismic shift that had just occurred in this delirious match of provocation between you.

Lines had been indelibly drawn, boundaries obliterated in the wake of your combined rising tide of lust and dogged oneupmanship. There could be no more feints or strategic maneuvers, no further illusion of maintaining a last veneered pretense of professionalism.

This had irrevocably, irretrievably become the main Event - capital E - you had both been hurtling towards across uncounted nights of fleeting, charged intersections. A terminal collision rapidly approaching that would see one of your formidable natures bent past its tensile limit and finally shattered by the sheer cataclysmic force involved.

The only remaining variables were who would provide that final devastating overture...and what unholy havoc would be wrought in its smoldering, cinder-strewn aftermath.

Illumi shifted almost imperceptibly, squaring his shoulders as if bracing himself to withstand the oncoming onslaught. You watched the subtle flexing of his throat as he swallowed once, seeming to steel his resolve before replying in that maddeningly mild timbre that somehow made every syllable resonate like stroking hands over bared nerves.

"Why don't you come over here..." he murmured with quiet, lethally-coiled intensity, "...And find out for yourself whether either of us will be wasting each other's time tonight?"

The blatant heat laden into those softly issued words triggered an involuntary shiver from the base of your spine to the nape of your neck. For a single suspended breath, the very world itself seemed to teeter upon the precipice, awaiting your ultimate response.

Would you finally gather every last scrap of your mettle and call Illumi's brazenly provocative dare? Yielding fully to the siren call awaiting in that precipitous, looming abyss that had steadily been unraveling your tightly-bound controls for months now?

Or would some fragment of your rationale, of your assassin's creed to never allow distractions or entanglements, manage to sheath itself in composure one final time? Withdrawing from this rapidly deteriorating conflict before you both rent the very fabric of existence to burning threads?

The heady choice was suddenly, perilously, yours alone to make...

A dozen different impulses battled for control as you weighed Illumi's bold, heated challenge. Part of you thrilled at the dark, smoldering promise carried in those murmured words - an unspoken vow that should you dare meet his provocation, he would finally unleash the full, merciless force of his long-restrained desire upon you.

The thought sparked molten tendrils of liquid fire lancing straight to your core. You couldn't deny the feverish allure of being one of the rare few to pierce the Zoldyck assassin's impenetrable walls and expose the primal, savagely rapacious need lying in wake beneath.

To clasp the tiger's jaws and feel its searing exhalations scorch your very essence...it was undeniably, perversely intriguing in a way that stoked your own deepest, most untoward cravings.

And yet, another part of you - that kernel of flint-stubborn pride and discipline bred into your elite bone and marrow - balked at the thought of simply surrendering so easily. Of allowing Illumi the satisfaction of rattling you into compliance first, no matter how deliriously tempting the rewards promised on the other side.

No...if this scorching waltz was to reach its exquisite, world-rendering crescendo, you refused to acquiesce to being the first player to blink.

Dragging your heavy-lidded gaze up to meet Illumi's in a blatant display of haughty dismissal, you carved one side of your mouth into a slashing smirk. The expression didn't come close to reaching your eyes, which had turned to glittering metallic flints of challenge.

"Well well, Mr. Zoldyck..." You traced the very tip of your tongue along your lower lip with exaggerated indolence. "I have to admit, you've piqued my interest with that...spicy little invitation."

You punctuated the husked words by allowing your palms to glide sinuously down the lush terrain of your body. Over the generous flare of your hips, the taut feminine curves accentuated by your form-fitting garments, all the way until your fingertips tucked purposefully into your waistband.

Illumi's own fingertips audibly tightened against the hilt of his discarded blade as his stare raptly tracked your display. The smoldering promise in those endlessly deep pools had shifted into something rawer...more wantonly naked the longer you drew out toying with his composure.

Leaning forward slightly to emphasis the profound swell of your cleavage straining against your top's plunging neckline, you clicked your tongue in exaggerated disappointment.

"Unfortunately...I don't have time to waste entertaining your particular brand of gratuitous urges tonight."

Illumi's features seemed to fracture almost imperceptibly at your dismissive words. That molten veneer of restraint now paper-thin as those hooded, predatory eyes bored into yours with searing intensity. Silently demanding elaboration as to whether you were truly intending to withdraw from the brink after so relentlessly stoking the inferno between you both.

Unable to resist one final goad, you faked a theatrically disingenuous pout before slowly, sinuously hitching your hips in a subtle roll of exquisite provocation. "But don't worry, handsome...I'm sure we'll have the chance to pick this back up another time. When you've had the chance to...cool that notoriously intense ardor of yours."

The twitch that rippled across Illumi's chiseled jawline indicated your taunt scored a direct hit. You could practically see the sheer force of that pent-up ardor battering against the remaining brittle shards of his restraint like a maelstrom hurling itself against a rapidly crumbling dam's gatehouse.

"Until then..." You held his heated stare unflinchingly as you turned on one heel in a swirl of skirts. Already anticipating the seething inferno of denied hunger and frustrated need that would surely be etched across Illumi's expression over your shoulder.

"Try not to burn yourself up from the inside, Zoldyck."

Not giving the danger dance between you both so much as a parting glance, you slipped away into the abyss as silent and ethereal as death's whisper itself.

Leaving the other half of your exquisite struggle to contend with the roiling, savagely thunderous tempest clawing at his admittedly formidable composure in your swirling wake.

The dimly lit lounge pulsed with the sort of charged, illicit energy that draws hunters and their prey alike into its neon-hazed aura. Perfect for your current mission of luring the despicable mark into a strategic seduction before neutralizing him.

You'd coiled yourself sinuously onto one of the banquettes ringing the central bar, making sure to catch the sleazebag's rapt attention from across the room. A few carefully timed hair-tosses and coquettish glances over the rim of your cocktail glass were all it took before he began making his way over.

Straightening your spine, you allowed one sculpted leg to arc provocatively as you prepared to reel your next victim in completely. This was the part you truly excelled at - donning whatever irresistible lure was required to ensnare your targets before coldly reaping them for your employer's highest bid.

Except this time, your eyes barely had a chance to flutter open with feigned demureness before a presence materialized beside your banquette like a wraith coalescing from the lounge's smoky shadows.

"There you are, my dearest wife. You really shouldn't wander off from me like that in places like this."

The flat, eerily toneless baritone sliced through the throbbing bassline and caused you to stiffen in stunned recognition. Because of course the insufferable Illumi Zoldyck would materialize to undermine you again right when you were working.

As if the netherworld's cruelest cosmic joke, the assassin slid into the booth beside you uninvited and shifted until his tailored form was plastered uncaringly against your side. One long arm snaked around your waist to draw you in tighter against his body in a shockingly intimate embrace.

"I-Illumi, what the hell do you think you're—" you tried to spit out through gritted teeth, but he cut you off.

"Darling, is that any way to greet your beloved husband after being separated for so long?" His tone remained that same mild, laconic drawl even as one corner of those soft lips curved slightly in a mockery of a fond smile.

The effect was undeniably unsettling...and also indescribably simmering in the most unfurly way your rational mind refused to dwell on right now.

You opened your mouth to angrily protest his absurd charade further, but Illumi made a clicking tutting sound before leaning in close enough for his fiery exhales to ghost your cheek.

"Play along nicely," he murmured in a tone that somehow made the innocuous endearment sound purgatorially hot against your skin. "Unless you'd like me to blow your cover over there and ruin all your hard work seducing that pathetic mark?"

The subtle tip of his chin indicated where your actual intended target had frozen halfway across the lounge floor. One beefy hand still outstretched from where he'd been rudely interrupted while on his prowl by this insane scene.

Jaw clenched in seething frustration, you nevertheless recognized the fact that Illumi had effortlessly gained the upper hand here as per usual. If you tried to slip away now, he'd no doubt make good on derailing your entire operation out of pure petty vindictiveness.

Which meant you had no choice except to allow the other assassin his little heterosexual homelife play, at least for the moment. Whatever deranged game of wits Illumi thought he was playing at, you'd find a way to subtly regain control sooner than later.

Favoring him with your sweetest, most vapid smile, you leaned in until your cheeks brushed provocatively together under the guise of issuing a fond greeting kiss between "lovers."

"There's my wonderfully overbearing darling," you practically purred with dripping saccharine against Illumi's jaw. "And here I was beginning to worry you'd never show up after keeping me waiting all this time..."

One elegant brow arched a hairsbreadth as Illumi allowed his palm to slip south and settle overtly possessive against your hip. The heat singeing the patterns his merciless fingertips traced there made it impossible to suppress a subtle shiver.

"Now now, pet..." The molten whisper vibrated straight through your sternum and pooled heavy in your abdomen. "We both know I'd never abandon such a deliciously...obedient wife for long."

He punctuated the provocative words by slanting you a weighted look rife with dark, unspoken promise. In that heated moment, it was impossible to tell if you were playing the part of wanton newlyweds or something...else entirely more intimate and primal.

One thing was certain - your night had irrevocably been knocked off its already unsteady axis courtesy of your most infuriatingly persistent rival.

And you had a sinking suspicion this was Illumi's idea of well-earned payback for all the delicious torment you'd put him through as of late.

Illumi's grip tightened infinitesimally against your hip as his gaze remained locked in that same simmering, unblinking stare. The two of you were rapidly spiraling into hazy, uncharted territory where realities seemed to blur and distort like a mirage's shimmering heatwaves.

Was this truly just some absurd, inexplicable attempt at sabotaging your mission objectives? Or had the circuitous game of provocations and heated oneupmanship between you progressed to the point of this being Illumi's next daring gambit to unravel you completely?

You found yourself momentarily adrift, unsure whether you should be playing along with the farce of his imposed "loving spouse" charade...or abandoning the pretense altogether in favor of something far more visceral. After all, didn't a situation like this technically represent yet another incendiary gauntlet offered between two willing combatants spoiling for their next pyric clash?

Just as you were weighing how to finally shatter the tension electrifying the air between your bodies, Illumi took the decision out of your hands. In one lithe, unsettlingly sensuous motion, he turned and swung one leg over your lap until he was straddling you brazenly.

"You have no idea how long I've been dreaming about getting you all to myself like this," he murmured in that same lethally mild cadence that somehow made every syllable drip with sinful intent. "Since our last...indulgence, the thought of tasting that pretty, defiant little mouth of yours again has been an agonizing craving, my dear, wicked wife."

The seemingly innocuous terms of endearment landed like smoldering brands against your already feverish skin. This was beyond even his usual provocations, beyond the taunting flirtations and increasingly blurred lines you'd been toying with together for months now.

No, this felt deeper...more primal. Like Illumi was showing his teeth at last in a truly unrestrained display of the blistering, unholy need both of you had been stoking to roaring life.

Still, you refused to surrender the upper hand - or what shredded composure remained - quite so easily. Arching one challenging brow, you shifted deliberately against his weight settled over your thighs and feigned an indolent stretch.

"Oh my, you certainly have a way with pretty words, don't you handsome?" you lilted with exaggerated nonchalance. "But we both know you'd never have the patience to indulge in all this unnecessary foreplay first."

Punctuating your veiled dare, you allowed one hand to drift upwards and cup the taut swell of Illumi's pectoral beneath the sleek tailoring of his suit. Tracing scorchingly deliberate lines along the defined ridges and valleys there in an utterly unambiguous caress.

"Why don't you get around to showing this supposedly wicked wife of yours just how thorough your...appetites truly are instead of wasting both of our time?"

The resounding crash of glass shattering against the far side of the lounge barely even registered over the sudden, leaden weight of tension surging like a riptide between you at your provocative words. Every atom of the known universe seemed to grind to a screeching halt, awaiting Illumi's reaction with bated finality.

Then, like ignition finding an oxyacetylene mix, every last thread of that fabled Zoldyck restraint appeared to unspool in one fell immolation behind those blazing dark eyes. His entire frame stilled to such dead raptorial focus that you nearly missed the hairline fractures of composed control now webbing across his chiseled features.

When he spoke at last, the words emerged in a rough, gravel-laced rasp so devastatingly virile your core clenched in reflexive response.

"Game...bloody...on, then."

And with that softly intoned vow laced with portent, Illumi's hips rolled forward in one lethally precise undulation tailored to grind his hardening cock against your molten center. Stoking the smoldering embers now blazing between you anew as you surrendered to this latest, most brutal round of chicken.

A harsh gasp punched from your lungs before you could strangle it at the shockwaves of searing friction radiating from Illumi's calculated grind against your sensitized flesh. He felt it too - the infinitesimal tremor racing through your joined bodies - if the way his piercing stare sharpened into dark, unholy approval was any indication.

"I-Illumi..." you managed to rasp out in what was meant as an admonition. But the breathy quaver twisting your tone transformed the utterance into something far more akin to pleading persuasion.

Damn him for always managing to unravel you so utterly with even the subtlest of calculated provocations. This entire scenario was quickly spiraling beyond the boundaries of playful oneupmanship and into territories unexplored...and highly dangerous for ones of your ilk to tread.

Summoning the tattered remnants of your restraint, you settled both palms firmly against the assassin's powerful chest with the intent of forcibly creating space. Of regaining whatever tenuous grasp on rational control one of you still possessed before--

The scorching words that spilled like sin from Illumi's lips shattered that feeble line of defense before you could even draw your next strained inhalation.

"Yes..." he husked, each consonant seeming to etch itself into your very marrow. "Say my name like that again, wife. Let me hear that honeyed desperation dripping from your lips just once more."

Punctuating the dark command, he shifted subtly, rearranging his weight so that those merciless hips ground down in another searing, lushly undulating roll that dragged deliciously against your scorched center.

A strangled, mewling sound you didn't recognize as your own punched from your core at the rapturous assault. Every atom of your existence suddenly seemed to white out into pure electrified nerves pulsing in exquisite, delirious rapture at Illumi's continued calculated onslaught.

Some distant, fraying part of your consciousness registered that you were rapidly losing whatever strategic foothold remained in regaining control of this rapidly devolving situation. Illumi was a grand master at subjugation through the sheer merciless application of exquisitely unleashed desire.

And with your restraints being whittled to shreds beneath that implacable storm of his relentlessly stoked passions, it was only a matter of agonizing moments before you succumbed to the lancing siren call and surrendered everything to its searing raptures...

Clawing for one final, flimsy lifeline of composure, you rasped out a desperate deflection laced with as much hauteur as you could desperately muster through the fractures in your mask.

"Y-You arrogant...ingrate," you managed to grit out with a defiant curl of your lips. "Did you really think this pathetic attempt at mind games would be enough to make me buckle to your vile appetites?"

As if dealing the deathblow to any delusion you wielded the upper hand, Illumi arched one eloquent brow and delivered a punishingly precise hip roll that sent galaxies of white-hot exquisite rapture blazing through your shuddering form.

"We'll just have to see about that now, won't we...pet?"

And with one last salacious grind of his weight settled fully over your now trembling thighs, Illumi suddenly disengaged. His formidable frame rising from your tangled forms in one effortlessly sinuous motion, leaving you utterly disoriented and bereft in the smoldering wake of his denial.

"Wait--" The pleading syllable wrenched itself free before you could mercifully strangle it. But by then Illumi was already turning on his heel to melt back into the dizzying lounge's shadows with that same inscrutable half-smile ghosting the firm line of his mouth.

When your lust-addled brain finally reconnected with reality, the jacquard evidence of your unwound state remained prominently displayed in your lap as a dark, taunting promise. One Illumi clearly had no compunctions leaving you to wrestle with as the ultimate testament to your loss of control in this latest round.

The silken flogger's tails slipped through your uncoordinated fingers as you attempted to rise unsteadily to your feet, every fiber of your being strung taut and vibrating like a live wire brought to the searing edge of rapturous obliteration without release.

When next you and your incessantly provoking rival crossed paths, this latest slight would not go unanswered.

One way...or literally another.

The dingy back-alley reeked of stale city grit and burnt adrenaline as you slipped through the shadows towards your target's ramshackle hideout. This was meant to be a clean, straightforward operation - tail the mark, neutralize him while he was unaware, collect payment, ghost away into the night once more.

At least, that's what should have transpired if the universe hadn't seen fit to thoroughly upend your best-laid calculations yet again.

You sensed his disquieting presence a split-second before the shadows themselves seemed to coalesce that lithe, unsettlingly familiar form beside you. Of course the insufferable Illumi Zoldyck would materialize to undermine your objective, just like every other infuriating time your paths intersected.

"You again..." you hissed lowly, muscles instinctively coiling as your free hand strayed towards the concealed blade at your hip. "What are you doing here, Zoldyck?"

One dark brow arched fractionally as Illumi regarded you with that same unshakable, vaguely reptilian calm he always exuded on the job. As if you weren't even worth the trouble of being rattled, let alone engaged with directly.

"Isn't it obvious?" came his flat response after a loaded pause. "We've been hired for the same mark again. Although at this rate, I have to start questioning whether you're simply stalking me on purpose."

You scoffed harshly at the barb, fighting to ignore the familiar flutter of that delicious, precarious tension now crackling between your bodies with the ease of long practice. As if the sight of this particular rival alone wasn't enough to set your pulse thundering precipitously these days.

"You're delusional as always if you think I have any interest in your company beyond putting a dagger in your back," you growled, squaring off into an unmistakably confrontational stance. "Either get out of my way, or--"

"Or what?" Illumi cut you off smoothly, somehow managing to loom over you despite the scant inches separating your heights. "You'll attempt to make a show of seducing me as usual? We've been down this fruitless road before, pet. Many times now."

His piercing stare somehow seemed to undress you down to your thrumming marrow despite every stitch of clothing firmly in place. Daring you with those banked embers searing behind hooded lids to finally be the first to ignite the maelstrom openly raging between you beyond the point of control.

You opened your mouth to hurl back a cutting retort...and in that infinitesimal window of distraction, a harsh clatter sounded from the abandoned building.

Both your heads whipped around in unison as the mark burst through the rear egress with a startled cry, clearly spooked by your presences lurking nearby. He didn't so much as register your outstretched forms before wheeling and bolting towards the narrow alley's mouth with startling swiftness.

"You imbecile!" Illumi snarled in a rare show of true anger as he exploded into pursuit. "Don't let him—"

But you were already moving, fury propelling your strides into a flat sprint as you flung yourself into the chase with wild abandon. This contract was yours, damn his interference, and you'd carved out your grisly reputation bathed in the sorts of stunts that would see lesser assassins martyred without quarter.

The world compressed into a howling vortex of thundering adrenaline as you rapidly closed the scant distance separating you and the panicking mark. Some distant, rational part of you registered Illumi's pounding strides tight on your heels like a mercilessly inexorable shadow about to swallow the both of you whole.

You were almost close enough to reach out and seize your quarry's flailing coattails...when he veered sharply towards a narrow side street and hurled a discarded plank of scrap lumber directly into your hurtling path.

The unexpected projectile caught you squarely in the midsection with crushing force, punching the air from your lungs in a devastated rush.

You doubled over, gasping for escaped breath as Illumi predictably shouldered past you without a shred of hesitation or concern for your well-being. Even as you flailed, temporarily winded on the verge of blacking out, his tenacious footfalls rapidly faded up the side alley as he relentlessly pursued the mark alone.

That insufferable, ruthless, single-minded--

The blistering haze of fury galvanized your senses back into razor-sharp clarity just in time to steady your strides. Honing every atom of your being into a fine, piercing point of lethal focus as you rounded the corner after them with scarcely a moment's delay.

The sight that awaited you, however, was one you could never have anticipated in a thousand lifetimes of assassination.

The narrow side street was utterly deserted apart from Illumi standing frozen in the center, body taut as a bowstring yet somehow radiating palpable waves of disbelief and restrained fury.

You felt your own volcanic anger briefly stunted as you took in the bizarre scene, gaze hastily tracking for any sign of the mark. There was nothing - no cowering form stuffed in a nook, no telltale scuffs indicating his path of escape. It was as if the wretched target had simply...vanished into thin air.

"What the hell happened?" you bit out once close enough for Illumi to inevitably sense your presence beside him. "Don't tell me that after all your bravado, the sniveling coward actually managed to evade the great Illumi Zoldyck too."

His jaw tightened infinitesimally at your barbed taunt, shoulders squaring like a panther preparing to leap as he finally pivoted to face you head-on. Up close, you could make out the scorching embers flickering to lurid life behind those onyx depths.

"On the contrary," he gritted out in that terribly mild tone that somehow laced every syllable with simmering menace. "Your blundering ineptitude is what allowed this failure to transpire."

You scoffed harshly at the accusation, rigor returning to your muscles as you matched Illumi's defensive stance in an instinctive mirror. "That's rich coming from a self-aggrandizing fool who couldn't neutralize a sedated invalid without making an operatic spectacle of it!"

"I had the situation well in hand," he fired back without missing a beat, somehow managing to loom inches from your face despite the negligible difference separating your statures. So close, in fact, that you were forced to tip your chin upwards as his heated breaths fanned scorching patterns across your cheekbones. "It was your delayed involvement that provided our mark with the opening to flee in the first place."

Some distant part of your consciousness recognized the perilous territory you were both veering towards - the razor-thin tightrope separating this heated confrontation and the sort of unfettered conflagration destined to consume you if either slipped. Every muscle quivered with rigorous discipline as you fought against the molten urge to simply surge forward and unleash the full tempest howling between your strained bodies.

But Illumi's uncanny gaze glittered with something darker, more primal than usual professional antagonism. Like he recognized the churning cusp you stood balanced upon just as acutely...and was silently daring you to make the first calamitous leap over the edge into oblivion.

"Just admit you're in over your inferior skull and stand down before you truly become a liability," he murmured in a soft, smoke-laced rasp that somehow brooked no compromise. "This assignment requires a defter hand than your usual heavy-handed antics can provide."

The patronizing undercurrent sliced straight through whatever tattered self-restraint you'd been clinging to like a man overboard clutching driftwood. Something inside you finally snapped with an almost audible reverberation as every ounce of pent-up tension detonated in searing release.

The next thing you registered was your fist impacting Illumi's chiseled jaw with a resounding thunk of impact, snapping his head aside with enough force to splinter bone on a lesser assassin. A bloom of crimson erupted from his nostril, trailing garnet rivulets down towards those merciless lips.

You staggered backwards, chest heaving rapid breaths that didn't come close to slaking the bonfire ignited in your veins. Illumi simply remained rooted where he stood, expression inscrutable as he slowly turned that penetrating obsidian stare back towards you.

Measuring every scintilla of your disheveled, furiously wound state with those hooded lids brimming embers of primal promise...and incendiary approval at what he found blazing there.

In that infinite breath, the entire universe ground to a standstill around you - awaiting one minuscule push to send it all spiraling gloriously, unstoppably, into rapturous cataclysm.

"Well then..." Illumi husked at last as his lips curved into an unholy grin of salacious satisfaction. "I suppose we're finally going to see which of us breaks first after all these heated dalliances, little assassin..."

A heartbeat of leaden suspension stretched between you, trembling on that ultimate precipice as the decision hovered suspended on a wisp of fate.

Then, as if tasting release on the arid desert wind for the first time, the flood walls fractured and the deluge came raging through.

Your second haymaker slammed into Illumi's jaw with enough brutal force to make even his preternatural reflexes falter. He absorbed the bone-rattling impact with an animalistic grunt, dark eyes blazing like newly stoked coals in the instant before he retaliated.

One calloused palm whipped up to snare your wrist mid-swing before you could unleash a third wild strike. With almost negligent ease, he wrenched your arm back across your body until your back collided with the alley's grungy brickwork. The breath punched from your lungs in a harsh wheeze as Illumi pinned you there, bodies aligned in searing alignment from crown to toe.

For one suspended eternity, you remained frozen in that tableau - potential combatants sizing each other up before mutually deciding to discard the final tottering remnants of restraint instead. The maelstrom neither of you had possessed the discipline to resist any longer.

Then, as if some cosmic switch had been thrown, you simultaneously surged forward to crash together like superheated bodies in an unstoppable fusion reaction.

Illumi's hands were everywhere, mercilessly possessive as they clamped around your waist and hips to haul your weight flush against his powerful frame. Your own fingers fisted into the starched lapels of his jacket with bruising intensity, relishing the harsh judder of muscle and bone you felt beneath fine linen.

His lips slanted over yours in a calculated brand of pure possession, tongue spearing past your parted defenses to stake its dominance with each scorching duel. You gasped shudderingly into the onslaught, giving as ravenously as you received while surrendering to the searing tidal wave of need crashing through your veins.

Somewhere distantly, the night sky above shuddered with the banshee wail of sirens and the cacophonous thunder of the city's lifeblood roiling all around you. But the rest of the world may as well have ceased revolving entirely for how little you registered outside this infinitesimal maelstrom of sensation and primal, unholy rapture.

You were the sole wellspring and terminus, the stratonic forces converging in an explosive lambda implosion that would render everything beyond to smoldering ash within its transfigurative wake.

Illumi broke the liplock only to trail his merciless ministrations along the vulnerable curve of your neck, teeth and tongue staking out lush patterns of possession as he went. Each harsh scrape and searing exhalation sent fresh shockwaves of electrified need straight to your thrumming core. You arched shamelessly into his frame, silently pleading for more of his exquisite ruination through the spiral of rapidly deteriorating control.

Any last vestige of proprietary fled as your wandering hands sought out the hard, flexing ridges of Illumi's body sheathed beneath perfectly tailored fabric. Stroking, teasing, peeling layers back to uncover more and more of his predatory brutality clawing vindictively to the surface now. You were utterly intoxicated on it - the raw, uninhibited power radiating from Illumi's very essence as all the tangled threads of restraint frayed into oblivion between your devouring bodies.

This was the long-overdue precipice you'd been balancing upon since that very first, fateful clash between professional talents. An inevitability distilled and condensed down to its purest molecular essence until only one irrefutable terminus remained - searing raptures and utter, irrevocable ruination for whatever dared linger on after.

The sharp snap of fabric being rent from its seam jolted your senses back to the moment just as Illumi's hands slipped beneath the hem of your top. He tore his mouth from the bruised hollow of your throat with a harsh gasp, chest heaving with the same ragged respirations racking your own form.

His pupils were blown wide, black as the void behind the glittering, unfettered flames licking across their surface. As if the sight of you, already thoroughly undone beneath his hands, was the most beautiful, rapturous vision he'd ever witnessed in his lifetime.

You barely had a chance to catch your breath before his hands were at your waist, lifting you with preternatural ease until your thighs locked instinctively around his hips and your back hit the unforgiving brickwork. His palms slid up to settle beneath the supple curves of your ass, gripping so fiercely you suspected the prints would be tattooed there for weeks to come.

Illumi rolled his pelvis in a slow, languorous undulation that made your head drop back with a desperate mewl. The rigid heat straining against his slacks dragged tortuously across the soaked front of your leggings, the friction sending molten shivers ricocheting through every atom of your body.

He repeated the motion with that same agonizing rhythm, savoring every strangled cry and breathless plea that spilled from your lips at his leisurely torment. Until the only words remaining in your vocabulary were a garbled litany of his name and a fevered begging for more.

You'd never felt such unbridled, visceral need before, a tempestuous vortex of pure fire and electricity threatening to devour you from the inside out if he didn't satiate it right here and now.

Illumi's teeth were suddenly at your neck again, dragging along the delicate pulse fluttering beneath your jaw with a growl that seemed to originate from the very pits of hell. "So impatient," he chastised against the delicate shell of your ear, the gravel-laced baritone dripping with pure sin. "My impatient, wanton little wife."

Before you could protest, his hips snapped forward with a force that stole the air from your lungs and rattled your very bones. Every nerve ignited, the white-hot pleasure-pain so exquisite it nearly sent you spiraling over the edge right then and there.

You clung to his broad shoulders for dear life, the seams of your leggings stretching thin as Illumi's relentless pistoning threatened to shred the fabric altogether. Each ruthless thrust of his hips drove his cock against the molten seam of your center, grinding his thick, straining ridge over your clit with unerring precision.

Your climax was rapidly coiling to the bursting point, every atom of your being strung to fever pitch as you careened towards the inevitable, obliterating oblivion. Illumi's mouth had resumed its merciless assault on the sensitive hollow of your neck, sucking and biting with punishing intent until you were certain there'd be no mistaking the marks left behind.

As if every inch of your body wasn't already branded indelibly by his touch, the thought of being left with tangible, lingering proof of his claiming stoked the inferno inside you to a roaring frenzy.

The seams of your leggings finally gave way just as Illumi tugged his own pants down, the fabric tearing beneath the relentless friction of Illumi's assault. You felt the unmistakable drag of bare flesh against slick flesh and moaned shamelessly. The thought of him rutting you bare and open, fully exposed and vulnerable to his whims, should have been a blistering red flag. Instead, it was all that was needed to catapult you over the edge into the abyss.

Illumi's fingers tightened punishingly on your ass as your body shattered around him, the ecstasy so intense it sent every atom of your consciousness whiting out. His own ragged groan against your throat was the only warning before the scalding heat of his release pulsed across your skin, the liquid heat seeping down the back of your thighs in searing rivulets.

Without warning, your entire reality tilted and shifted. In the next instant, you registered the rough stone of a different wall digging into your spine as Illumi slammed you bodily into the adjacent building. His weight pressed you there, pinning your writhing form into place while he continued rutting against your slick, aching folds with a newfound frenzy.

The overstimulation was so overwhelming, the sensation verging on the edge of pain, yet you couldn't summon the willpower to make him stop. Instead, you clung to his powerful shoulders and rode out the delirious storm as another, even more brutal climax crested like a tsunami over the horizon.

The next thing you registered was Illumi's scorching mouth sealed over yours, devouring your strangled cry as a second wave of mind-numbing rapture detonated through your form. Some distant corner of your consciousness registered him pulsing another hot, scalding flood of cum against the small of your back before his weight slumped bonelessly into your heaving body.

Illumi didn’t bother breaking the kiss, the languid slide of his tongue and lips against yours so unhurried and thorough it seemed like he was attempting to brand himself onto every last molecule of your being. You responded in kind, relishing the salty musk and iron tang still clinging to his lips and the rough scrape of stubble along his jawline.

Your fingers had drifted into his silken locks, combing through the soft tresses that spilled freely down his shoulders and tickled your collarbone. Illumi hummed approvingly against your mouth, his own hands sliding up the planes of your sides until they cupped the weight of your breasts.

The dexterous pads of his fingers traced teasing, spiraling patterns around the peaks of your nipples until they tightened and throbbed beneath the attention. Then he pinched them between his thumb and forefingers, rolling and tugging the engorged tips in time with his plundering tongue until you were writhing anew beneath him.

Illumi had somehow managed to hitch your thighs higher, hooking your knees over his elbows and spreading you wider, allowing the new position to press his half-hardened length even more deeply against your molten core.

The sudden friction had your head falling back against the stone with a thunk and a moan, the overstimulation too much yet somehow not nearly enough all at once.

He didn’t seem to be in any hurry, taking his time to trace the delicate line of your collarbones with his lips before sinking his teeth into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. A guttural sound wrenched itself free from the depths of your chest, your fingernails raking punishing lines down his shoulder blades as his mouth sucked a livid bruise into your skin.

You couldn’t take it anymore, the unrelenting onslaught of his sensual attack too much for your overwrought nerves to endure. Twining your fingers into his hair, you dragged Illumi up until your lips were hovering scant inches apart.

Your voice emerged a rough, rasping wreck when you finally managed to force the words out. "Illumi...fuck, please, I need--"

His fingers tightened fractionally around your throat, the pressure just light enough to stifle the flow of air without restricting it entirely. "You will learn to beg properly for my affections, wife," he husked in that devastatingly lethal tenor that sent another wave of molten heat spiraling through your core.

"Please," you breathed, no longer caring about the shameful, desperate edge threading your voice. "Illumi, I need you. Need you inside me. Now."

Something in his impossibly dark eyes seemed to shift at that, the banked embers smoldering behind his hooded gaze suddenly flickering to raging conflagrations. With a low snarl, he claimed your mouth in a bruising, devouring kiss as he finally, mercifully lined his now-aching cock up with your weeping entrance.

The first searing, aching stretch was almost enough to make you come apart again right then and there. The delicious burn of his girth and the delicious friction as he slowly bottomed out had you reeling, nails digging furrows into the flesh of his shoulders as you arched up against him.

Illumi's pace was relentless, hips snapping with brutal, punishing thrusts that rocked you deeper into the brickwork with each punishing stroke. Your world narrowed to nothing but the overwhelming heat and fullness, the unhinged pleasure-pain that threatened to consume you whole.

Your third release slammed into you with all the force of a tidal wave, the sheer intensity so overwhelming that you couldn't even muster a cry as the rapture consumed your senses. Illumi followed shortly after, burying his face into the crook of your neck and groaning a curse that would have made a sailor blush as his cock pulsed a scorching flood into your spasming core.

He didn't move to disengage right away, continuing to pin you against the wall with his weight and nuzzling soft kisses along your collarbone while you both caught your breaths. The tender ministrations were at such odds with the wild, uninhibited fucking you'd just been subjected to that you found yourself wondering if this was the real Illumi Zoldyck. The assassin stripped down to the most human, vulnerable part of his psyche...the part that had been hidden from the rest of the world for so long.

The thought made your heart do something dangerous and complicated that you chose to ignore for the moment. Instead, you let him continue lavishing affection on your skin, the featherlight kisses gradually growing less languid and more insistent.

When his hips rolled forward with a newfound urgency, you let him guide one leg to curl around his waist and moaned as his cock sank even more deeply into you. He was already fully hard again, his thrusts gradually gaining momentum as the familiar, electric tension coiled and built between your joined bodies once more.

Just as you felt yourself careening towards the edge of oblivion, Illumi suddenly pulled out. The loss was so shocking and abrupt that a ragged gasp punched from your throat as you reflexively reached out for his broad shoulders. But Illumi was already moving, turning you so that your palms hit the cool stone and your hips jutted back at a sharp angle.

He guided your legs further apart and nudged his cock against the puffy, dripping seam of your center once more. When you bucked backwards and keened with desperation, he finally granted mercy and buried himself to the hilt with a single, powerful thrust.

Illumi's palm settled at the base of your neck, pressing just enough to tilt your head backwards as he leaned down to rasp hotly against the shell of your ear. "You'll come undone with me this time, little wife. So be a good girl and take it."

And then, without warning, his other hand snaked down to circle the aching, throbbing bundle of nerves above where you were stretched impossibly wide around him. Illumi's thrusts grew more punishing, fingers dancing an infuriating, featherlight pattern over your clit in counterpoint.

Within moments, the dual assault had you shuddering and moaning his name shamelessly, pleading for the sweet release that was just out of reach. You were so close - almost, almost, almost--

Then Illumi pinched your clit between his forefinger and thumb and you fell apart with a ragged scream, vision whiting out into pure, unending oblivion as he continued fucking you through the climax. He only allowed you a few precious moments to recover before he was pulling out once more, turning you roughly in his arms until he could hoist you up and pin your back against the wall.

Illumi didn't even bother waiting for your legs to hook around his hips, simply hitching you up by the thighs until your dripping slit was level with his cock and slid back inside with one smooth motion. The new angle had him hitting even deeper than before, every thrust of his hips slamming home until the breath was driven from your lungs and you could do nothing but cling to his powerful shoulders and surrender to his unrelenting domination.

Your fifth release left you a limp, shaking mess in his arms, the only thing holding you aloft being the strength of his powerful arms and the unyielding hardness buried to the hilt inside you. As if sensing the limits of your endurance, Illumi's pace quickened, his thrusts growing more frantic and erratic.

The moment his lips crashed into yours and he began to pulse hot, wet streaks against your fluttering walls, a sixth climax exploded through you out of nowhere. You were well aware of the embarrassingly intense gush of juices spraying between your bodies, the lewd sound so wet and obscene you felt yourself blush furiously.

But Illumi simply growled his approval into your mouth, the sound rumbling all the way through your joined bodies as he kept fucking you through the climax. He was still rock-hard, the friction so delicious and the sensation of his cock stroking along every swollen, hypersensitive inch of you so overwhelming that it was almost enough to bring tears to your eyes.

Then his fingers were on your clit again, circling with a newfound precision that had the breath punched from your lungs and a sob ripped from your lips. Illumi didn't relent, continuing his ministrations while simultaneously slamming his cock against your abused, tender cervix until the overstimulation had you reeling and writhing desperately.

"One more, little wife," he commanded, voice hoarse and raw. "I know you have one more in you. Give it to me."

The sheer authority in his tone sent you crashing over the edge for the seventh time, the force of your orgasm so intense that you blacked out for a split-second. The only thing keeping you tethered to reality was Illumi's bruising grip and the relentless pounding of his cock into your spasming channel.

When his hips stuttered and his breath hissed out through his teeth, you braced yourself for the scalding flood that would follow. But he pulled out at the last instant, his thick release spraying across your bare breasts and stomach instead.

He pumped his cock vigorously, milking every last drop of the hot, pearly liquid until you were streaked with it from collarbone to navel. Then Illumi leaned forward and sealed his mouth over yours, his tongue sliding languidly through your parted lips as he pressed his still-rigid length against the slick, puffy seam of your center.

"One more, love," he murmured into your mouth, the tenderness in his tone so unexpected it sent a sharp pang echoing through your chest. "Don’t worry. I’ll give your pussy a break. I promise."

The sudden emptiness as Illumi's cock slipped from between your folds was almost unbearable. You whimpered softly, hips rocking instinctively as he shifted his grip on your thighs. Then the broad head of his shaft was nudging against a different opening, the blunt pressure so sudden and overwhelming that your breath locked in your lungs.

"Relax," Illumi coached gently, hands sliding soothingly up and down the backs of your thighs as he slowly, steadily inched his way inside. "Have you done this before?"

"No," you admitted in a shaky whisper, fingers flexing where they were still latched around his neck.

He paused in his gentle exploration, his obsidian gaze boring into yours with such intensity it seemed to strip every last ounce of restraint away. "Good," he rasped, his voice so gravelly and low you could practically feel the vibration of it against your very bones. "That's exactly how I want you, little wife. Just for me. My little, innocent, perfect little wife..."

Illumi's words were an erotic litany, a brand against your skin with every syllable and thrust. He was so deep inside you, deeper than he'd ever been, filling every inch and crevice so perfectly.

The ache was almost too much, the stretch bordering on painful yet so exquisite you could scarcely stand it. You couldn't think, couldn't speak, couldn't even form a coherent thought beyond the single, primal urge to hold onto him and never let go.

So that's exactly what you did.

"I love you."

The confession came from so far out of left field, it took you a moment to realize that you were the one who'd spoken the words. They were true, though - so true it was like the entire universe had suddenly crystallized around the simple, undeniable truth.

It was terrifying and liberating all at once, the sort of revelation that would change everything.

"Illumi, I--"

But he silenced you with a kiss that was almost chaste, a sweet, gentle brush of his lips that somehow carried more emotion than a thousand filthy promises could convey.

"I love you, too."

And when he began moving inside you again, the achingly tender strokes were so at odds with his earlier carnal savagery that the sensation was almost enough to shatter you into a million pieces all over again.

He held you throughout, whispering the softest, most tender confessions into your skin as the pleasure slowly built and crested. You came with a sob, a fresh rush of wetness soaking the place where you were joined as his name spilled from your lips over and over.

Illumi followed shortly after, his cock twitching and pulsing in time with each searing flood until you were completely, utterly spent. His seed leaked out in sticky rivulets as he pulled out at last, a combination of both your juices now trickling down the insides of your thighs.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Illumi simply continued to hold you, his forehead pressed against yours as his warm breath fanned across your cheekbones. You basked in the closeness, letting the silence cocoon around the both of you as the rest of the world ceased to exist beyond the circle of his arms.

At last, he spoke, his words so soft and low they nearly got lost in the night air. "My family is very traditional. There are...certain expectations they have for a first-born son."

A leaden weight settled in the pit of your stomach, dread coalescing into a cold, hard knot that threatened to steal the breath from your lungs. You already had a sneaking suspicion you knew where this was going, but you couldn't bring yourself to voice the question.

Illumi, however, seemed to understand your silent plea regardless. "You would make a lovely wife for me, little assassin," he whispered, his voice somehow managing to carry every ounce of warmth and reassurance you needed to hear. His hand drifted downward to stroke your belly, the lightest of pressures yet enough to convey the unspoken implication behind his words.

"And I’m pretty sure I just fucked a baby into you, so-"

#hxh smut #hxh x reader #hxh x reader smut #hunter x hunter smut #hunter x hunter x reader smut #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter #illumi x reader smut #illumi smut #illumi x reader #hxh illumi #illumi zoldyck #illumi zoldyck smut #illumi zoldyck x reader #illumi zoldyck x reader smut

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yandere-daydreams · 10 months ago

Text

Title: Dragon On The Tower Roof.

Pairing: Yandere!Malleus x Reader (TWST).

Word Count: 4.2k.

TW: Fantasy AU, Mentions of Blood/Bruising, Mentions of Injury to Reader, Implied (Consensual) Sex, Possessive Behavior, and Manipulation.

Malleus met you at the base of his tower.

With a single movement of his wings, he descended from his perch and landed in front of you – placing himself between you and the stone behemoth. Had you been a more imposing figure, a knight or a prince or the general of some distant army, he would’ve cut you down the moment you entered his valley, but your only armor was a thin rucksack tunic and your only weapon was a rusted sword – the tip of its chipped blade currently planted in the ground as you struggled to keep yourself on your feet. He could smell blood on you, although he couldn’t be sure if its source was the jagged, poorly bandaged wound on your calf or the dark stains painting your humble clothes. You were clearly not a knight, much less a prince, and if you were a general, your army had abandoned you long ago. Altogether, you were not the most intimidating nuisance he had ever had to dismiss. He might’ve been grateful, had you not been a nuisance at all.

In the past, his visage alone had been enough to make even the bravest adventure abandon their quest, but your weary eyes only glazed over his black-scaled wings, his spiraling horns, the slit pupils of his unnaturally green eyes. You acknowledged him with a slight nod, putting more of your weight on your makeshift aid. “I believe I’m here to slay you, dragon.”

His greeting, likewise, came in the form of a bowed head, a narrowed gaze. “And to rescue the prince, I assume.”

You shrugged, the gesture alone threatening to cost you your balance. “I’m sure they’d prefer if I didn’t. I think they’ve got someone else for that – a lord, or maybe a king. Someone more befitting than a filthy criminal, surely.”

At that, Malleus felt the ghost of a smile tug at the corner of his lips. Novelty was rare, this far into his everlasting life, and he could not say he’d ever had a prisoner sent after his head. “What sort of crime gets you sent to the lair of a monster?”

You brightened at the question. “Thievery,” you answered, pride overshadowing your exhaustion. “I could either face you or let them cut off my hands and, well, I find those to be quite essential to my burgeoning career.”

This time, you earned an airy laugh, a reflexive flick of his tail. He took another moment to evaluate you before speaking. “You are tired, thief.”

It wasn’t a question, but you answered regardless. “It was a long journey. You aren’t an easy monster to reach.”

“And injured, presumably by the fangs of some great beast of legend.”

“Right again.” You paused, then added, “If there are any legends about wolves, I mean.”

“And hungry.” Your smile fell. When you failed to respond, he went on. “May I invite you to share a meal with me before our battle?”

He watched as you swallowed, as you straightened. Your sword was pulled from the ground and allowed to hang limply at your side as you stared up at him with such a hopeful expression – his heart, had it not been so terribly calloused, might’ve broken at the sight alone. “Well,” you started, your humor gone in exchange for pure, unabashed desperation. “I suppose I can’t refuse such a kindly offered invitation.”

With no further conversation, he stepped to the side, raising his staff to the tower. After only a moment, the endless cobblestone pulled away to reveal a simple, wooded door – already open and awaiting his entry. Smiling, he motioned for you to follow him, and without protest, you obeyed.

You ate, to put it politely, like a starving animal.

There’d been an attempt at decency when you first sat down at the opposing head of his banquet table, a gallant effort to make use of the flatware arranged into neat, never-ending lines on either side of your plate, but what little energy you had for such pleasantries was depleted quickly as your attention was dedicated entirely to the whims of your empty stomach. Countless other dishes decorated the table – ranging from fine delicacies fit for the pallets of kings to common staples even the lowest of peasantry would’ve been familiar with, but Malleus was content to nurse a goblet of dark, herbed wine as he watched you bask in the feast.

Only after you’d gotten your fill did you seem to remember that you had company, your expression taking on a sheepish note. “This is what they brought me to trial for. Trespassing, I mean,” you began, and Malleus hummed in acknowledgement. “It was a baron’s manor – not quite a castle, but close to it. I heard he had the most beautiful gardens on this continent, and at the time, it seemed unreasonable to have to wait for an invitation just to take a look.”

“I thought you were a thief?”

“You must have the wrong person. I’ve been many things, but never a thief.” You leaned back in your chair. “I’m afraid I’ve always been too tender-hearted for that kind of thing. I could never stand to insult my hosts.”

“Such a considerate guest I have,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “I suppose I won’t have to worry about being robbed blind if I let you stay the night, then.”

You shook your head, feigning ego. “I would never, dear dragon. Your reclusive prince, on the other hand—”

Whatever you might’ve gone on to say was swiftly replaced with a sudden gasp as every torch within sight burst into a pillar of vicious emerald flame, casting the dining room in a blinding, sickly green before dying out just as abruptly as it’d erupted. Malleus let out an exasperated breath, bringing a hand to his temples. “My apologies. My patience has grown—” He cast a wayward glance toward the ash now seared into the stone walls, the ceiling. “—thin, over my time here.”

You allowed a beat to pass by in silence, then another. “Your prince,” you said, finally. “Is he important to you?”

“I can think of nothing I value more.” The answer came easily, even if the intensity of his sentiment surprised him. “An old friend asked me to ensure his safety. I’ve performed my role dutifully ever since.” The taste of blood rose into the back of his throat, but he drowned it out with another long sip from his goblet. “They used to send entire armies to reclaim him, then lone knights, then the occasional adventurer. You might be the first human to come seeking my head in two or three decades.”

Your smile took on a shy lilt, your eyes drifting to the table. “I wasn’t really supposed to come after you, either. Most people just take it as an exile, but they gave me a sword, and…” It was your turn to laugh, now, to be surprised with yourself. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I thought, even if I don’t get to rescue any princes, it could be nice to see how much of the fairy tale is true.”

“And you’re satisfied with what you’ve found?”

“Not entirely,” you admitted. “But I’m glad I met you, dear dragon.”

After some hesitation, he pushed himself to his feet and closed the distance between you. You stiffened, your gaze flitting blatantly toward the sole exit, but you didn’t attempt to flee as he pulled the closest seat in front of you and fell into it. “May I see your leg?”

You were far more than reluctant, but complied. The material of your travel weary trousers was pulled above your knee, the strips of fabric you’d attempted to fashion into bandages cut away with his own pitch-black talons. The wound was worse than he’d assumed, more severe than he assumed. Ragged skin stretched from your knee to your ankle, harsh puncture marks littering what little flesh was still in-tact. The stress of your journey had prevented the brunt of the damage from healing, and even without the use of his advanced senses, he would’ve been able to feel the heat radiating off of your skin, the first signs of infection beginning to set in. You were lucky you’d made it to his tower before the fever spread. His territory was cruel to the most resilient of creatures, and you seemed far from resilient.

“I have a salve in my collection that should aid in your recovery. That, paired with a few days of bed rest, should have you on your feet again in a week’s time.” Not a lie, but not far from one, either. He’d mended worse with a snap of his fingers, but there was no reason you should have to be burdened with such knowledge. “If you can find it within yourself to share a roof with a monster and delay our duel yet again, I can provide room and board while you recover.”

Your laugh was bright and strained. “You’re terribly kind to someone who came here to take your life.”

“And you’re very trusting of a creature who could easily end yours.” He let his pointed claws scrape over your bare skin, prolonging his evaluation. “Think of it as a show of my gratitude. My time here is well-spent, but tends to pass slowly. Visitors, whether benevolent or malicious, help to color my days.”

“Then I will have to be the most colorful visitor you’ve ever had,” you chimed, your grin renewed with fresh vigor. Clearly, you were not the type of mortal who could go long without a task. “I’ll make you wait on me hand and foot and bend to my every whim, until the thought of encountering another human being makes you sick. When I’m done, there might even be a dragon in this tower worth slaying.”

His only response was a steady nod, a low hum. He stood and, in the same motion, hooked one arm under the bend of your knees and another around your waist, lifting you into the air before you had the chance to so much as think to pull away. Instinctually, you attempted to re-balance yourself against him, and Malleus couldn’t help himself – laughing as he pulled you to his chest. “If I am to dote on you to the point of sickness, then let me start now. You’re in no state to walk on your own.”

You opened your mouth as if to complain, but anything you might’ve said was deemed too unimportant to warrant the effort. Your smile softened, your eyes falling shut as you rested your head against his shoulder. You lingered there, quiet and content, as he carried you through the halls of what would come to be your home.

Your prescribed period of bed rest came and went. Your bruises healed, then your leg (although you still tended to limp during particularly heavy rainstorms), and your exhaustion was replaced by a buzzing sort of restlessness. He never asked you to leave, and after some time, you seemed to stop expecting him to. You spoke rarely of your past (aside from the ever-changing series of events that led you to his tower, of course) and never of your future. When Malleus was in one of his more indulgent moods, he allowed himself to believe that, when he did catch you looking in his direction with such a glimmering worry in your eyes, you weren’t afraid of him, but of the possibility that he might send you away.

Despite your claims of spoiled houseguests and encumbered hosts, he was only driven to near-madness once while sharing your company. It’d been shortly after you instated yourself as a resident of his tower, rather than a fleeting visitor, and took to exploring your new dwelling without reservation. It’d been his own fault, really. He’d forgotten to warn you away from the upper wing, to resketch the protective runes he’d long-since allowed to fade, but such rationality had escaped him as he stood in the doorway, his mind empty and his eyes trained on your kneeling figure. He watched, paralyzed, as you raised a hand, reaching towards the marble slab, and then he was behind you – the points of his talons grazing the skin of your throat before he managed to restrain himself, curling his fist around the collar of your shirt, instead. Without warning, he hauled you off your feet, ignoring the half-choked shriek you let out in response.

His eyes fell to Silver, searching for any signs of harm, of disruption. Of course, Silver was unchanged. His colorless hair remained fanned over his velvet-cushioned pillow, the silk sheets and hand-stitched quilts still folded neatly at the foot of his bed – waiting to be put to use when the weather turned in autumn. Malleus took a moment to observe the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, the gentle movement behind his closed eyes, before letting out a breath of relief and turning to you. “I don’t recall giving you permission to enter this chamber.”

“Sorry, I— I was just looking around, and I saw the flowers on the door—” Silver’s own craftsmanship, preserved from the ravages of time by Malleus’ spell work. He’d painted them as soon as he was old enough to hold a brush, along with matching murals on his bedroom walls that hadn’t survived the passing ages. “—I got curious, that’s all. Is this the prince I was sent after?”

Malleus set his jaw, straightening his hunched posture. “…it is,” he answered, eventually. He let go of your collar and let you stumble onto your feet. “His name is Silver. I never knew him by any titles.”

Malleus’ gaze shifted to you, but your eyes remained fixed on Silver. “He’s beautiful.”

Despite himself, he felt the edge of his lips turn downward. He rested a hand on your shoulder, and you seemed to recover from your daze, turning to face him with a hopeful smile. “Do you know when he’s going to wake up?”

Malleus felt a coil of heat form in the back of the throat. The taste of ash laid heavy over his tongue, but he swallowed back his guilt and forced himself to respond. “In another hundred years, perhaps,” he mused, his tone melodic and detached. “There’s no known cure for a curse like his.”

A phantom of disappointment flickered across your expression, but it was suppressed quickly. Rather, you turned your attention outward – to the heavy, woven curtains draped over each crystalline window. “Will you help me let in some light? I hate to insult your taste, but it’s terribly depressing in here, and—” You brightened, taking him by the sleeve and tugging gingerly. “We don’t want his highness to have any nightmares, do we?”

With some reluctance, Malleus nodded. “Light, but nothing else.” When you failed to acknowledge him, he caught you by the wrist, squeezing with just enough pressure for your smile to falter. “Light, but nothing else. Do you understand?”

Your eyes darted back to Silver, but only for a moment. He was thankful for that – for your restraint. A second longer, and his true nature might’ve overshadowed his better judgement. “Of course, dear dragon. Nothing else.”

He inhaled sharply, then let go of you altogether.

It was a choice that, in the approaching months, he would only come to regret.

“This is what they banished me for, you know.”

“This?”

“Yes, this exactly.” You propped your chin on his chest, positioning yourself to more easily card your fingers through his hair. He let his eyes fall shut, basking in the warmth of your affection, of your bare skin pressed into his. Your clothes laid discarded on the grass around you, one of his wings bent and raised to shield you from the harsh light of the setting sun. He would have to get you back to the tower, soon. He’d always been indifferent to the deadly chill of night, but you – in your precious, delicate mortality – were not so durable. “Actually, not quite – I don’t think I ever made it to this part. It was the first time I’d ever attended a royal ball, and I happened to dance with a young lady so breath-taking, I couldn’t help but drop to one knee and dedicate my heart to her the moment our hands touched.” You sighed, feigning remorse. “Little did I know that she was the princess that ball was being thrown for, and so moved by my passion, she refused to let me out of her embrace until I agreed to marry her. Of course, her father – the king, as the fathers of princesses tend to be – couldn’t have that. It’s a shame, really. We would’ve made a gorgeous couple.”

Malleus pursed his lips, fighting back a smile. “And what does that make me? The next scorned lover of a silver-tongued rouge?”

“Oh, no. If you asked me to marry you,” You propped yourself up, pressing a kiss into the curve of his jaw. “There’d be nothing in the world that could stop me, dear dragon.”

Your hand fell to his cheek, and wistfully, you lulled him into a kiss – shallow but lingering, punctuated with a playful nip at his bottom lip. You pulled back with a smile, another quick peck to his cheek. You moved to say something, but he interrupted you, as mournful as he was to cut off such a precious moment so callously. “I found your wildflowers.”

Immediately, your expression fell. “I made sure not to—”

“I know, beloved, I know.” You knew better than to lay a hand on Silver. Your small bouquet had been left on the corner of his bed, another additional chain of asters and lavender braided into one of the longer strands of his waist-length hair. As much as he wished he could say he was only concerned for Silver’s well-being, it wouldn’t have been the truth. Something else, something darker, had accompanied the discovery – something it would be better for you to stay ignorant of. “We’ve talked about this. Silver is vulnerable, in his current condition. Even the simplest luxury is an unspeakable risk.”

Your shoulders dropped, your body going slack against his. You bowed your head, burying your face in the dip of his shoulder, and despite his frustration with you, he didn’t push you away. “I’m sorry. It just feels so cruel to let him suffer alone.”

“He’s never been alone.” His tone was more curt than he’d meant it to be. “He’s always had me.”

“I know, but—” He expected you to raise your hair, to flash him that brilliant grin. Instead, you only settled against him, speaking softly into the crook of his neck. “He just seems so sad.”

Malleus took a deep breath, clenching his eyes shut.

Then, before he could let himself think better of it, he wrapped an arm around your waist. In one fluid motion, he turned you over – leaving you on your back, one of his knees planted on either side of your waist, your form tucked safely underneath his. His kiss was less gentle than your own – that deep, aching sort of hunger overwhelming his cautiousness as his tongue raked over yours, as he groaned unabashedly into your mouth. You returned his affection emphatically; your fingers soon knotted in his hair, your eager touch preventing so much as the thought of distance between your body and his. Because there never would be distance between you and him. Because there was no reason you should ever have to be taken away from him.

Hours later, when the last traces of light had faded and the stars were painted in swirling patterns across the sky, he would carry you back to his tower – unconscious and pliable in his arms. That would be the first night you spent in his bed, and as he laid there with you, he couldn’t help but imagine how wonderful it would be if you never left.

The runes carved into Silver’s door were redrawn, Malleus’ enchantments refreshed, and your bittersweet sympathy slowly rotted into a distinctly bland melancholy. You didn’t speak of him (Malleus could only wonder how you ever managed to speak of anyone when so many of his marks so often decorated your skin), but he noticed new scratches around the well-rusted lock on Silver’s door, caught you braiding chains of daisies and crowns of marigolds with no intended recipient in mind, and at night, you tended to slip out of his hold and wander. Sometimes, he waited for you, lying awake as you hunted for whatever solace there was to find in the empty halls of an ancient tower. Most nights, tonight, he chased after you.

He found you in a window near the tower’s highest room, laid across the wooden sill, your back propped against the empty frame. He didn’t ask to join you – wordlessly lowering himself to the floor at your feet. As if by reflex, your hand fell to his horns, your thumb tracing over a particular ridge near the base as you broke the quiet. “Have ever told you why I’m here, dear dragon?”

Countless times, but he still played along. “Who has my heart been stolen by today, beloved?”

“A murderer,” you said, hollowly. “And not a particularly clever one, at that.”

He waited for you to go on, to spin some elaborate tale of love and loss and betrayal and poor humor, but you only lapsed back into silence, your gaze turning back to the pitch-black valley. He watched your vacant expression for a moment, then another before letting his eyes fall shut and resting his cheek against your thigh.

Malleus had expected there to be more anger than this.

You were in a similar position to one you’d taken the first time you stumbled into Silver’s chambers – kneeling beside his marble bed, your ever-weary eyes fixed on the unknowing object of your adoration. The only difference was that, today, Silver’s hand was raised to your lips, now slightly parted in shock. He didn’t have to guess at the source of your astonishment. In front of you, Silver was sitting up. His posture was unsteady, his eyes barely open, but the obvious was undeniable.

He was awake.

To think, there was something of merit to Lilia’s stories of true love after all.

Rather than anger, rage, pure and undiluted fury, an odd sort of calm settled over his blank mind as you snapped in his direction. Your astonishment turned to horror in an instant. “Malleus, I didn’t— I was only trying to—”

He put you out of your mercy quickly. He raised his staff and, propelled by some unseen force, you were torn away from Silver’s bedside and thrown against the nearest walls – the force of the collision far from fatal, but enough to leave you limp and unconscious. With your safety ensured, he stepped forward, approaching Silver. He was awake, but only just. So many decades of uninterrupted sleep would not be so willing to release him from their taloned clutches without a struggle, and there was a certain dream-like lull to the way his eyes skirted over the limited scenery before settling on Malleus, his features immediately softening in relief. “Malleus?”

“I’m here.” Malleus allowed himself a small smile before bringing the end of his staff to Silver’s forehead. “You can rest, brother.”

There was just enough time for the edges of Silver’s lips to turn downward before he collapsed back onto the marble slab. Malleus would arrange him later on. For now, his attention turned to you.

He gathered your crumpled form in his arms and carried you through the halls of his lonely tower, before stepping into the clear air and fresh heat of the valley. He laid you in the tall grass and, after taking a moment to appreciate your peaceful expression, brought a hand to your face, cupping your cheek tenderly. The spell came to him instinctually, but he took his time, mourning the loss of your time together with each mumbled word. That was a silver-lining of immortality, though. Infinite time allowed for infinite repetition, and he couldn’t imagine giving up the opportunity to fall in love with you again.

When he was done, your eyes fluttered open, a smile quickly finding its way to your lips. “Hello, dragon.” You gazed darted to either side nervously, your mind struggling to catch up with your clever tongue. “I would love to introduce myself, but it’s the funniest thing – I can’t seem to remember what I’m doing here.”

He bit back a smile. You tried to force yourself into a more dignified position, but barely managed to get an arm underneath you before pausing, wincing, reaching for the back of your head and coming away with blood smeared across your fingertips. Malleus did what he could to hide his delight.

“You’re a thief. You injured yourself attempting to scale my tower. It was an impressive effort, but tragically unnecessary.”

This time, he couldn’t hide the wide, simpering grin that came to rest across his lips.

“I was always going to invite you inside.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #yandere twisted wonderland #twst x reader #yandere twst #twst imagines #malleus x reader #yandere malleus #yanderecore #yancore

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horizontwinflames · 1 year ago

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Horizon AU: Twin Flames - Isaac's final armor and weapons variations (Zero Dawn Act). Text transcription under the cut after the images!

REPOST, EDIT/USE OR FEED MY ART TO AI ISN'T ALLOWED

Edit: Updated some text on the Oseram and Banuk arts.

You can read Isaac's lore here: [LINK]

Will he use those variations in the story? Yes! :D hehe. Also, in this AU only Aloy wears Oseran armor while only Beta wears Carja armor, because Oseran's armor is too heavy and noisy for Beta's stealth strategies, while Carja's armor is too weak for Aloy's melee fighting style.

This AU has an ongoing fanfic! You can read on Ao3: [LINK]

Text transcription:

Ravager's cannon: It gives Isaac the ability to fire rapidly like a Ravager can, but with much more precision. It can also do charged-up shots for more heavy damage. This is the most noiseless ranged weapon from Isaac, allowing the charged shot to be used for sniping. Up to two coils can be equipped.

Stalker Blade Tail: The swiftest and lightest melee weapon from Isaac's arsenal. It's the best pick to fight against lightweight machines and stealth attacks. Its thin shape and ability to spin and move up and down (at an angle of about 120 degrees) can also be used for precision attacks (e.g., to take off machine components or stealth-stabbing humans).

Nora's stealth armor: The natural materials of this armor allow Isaac to camouflage better within the natural landscape. The lack of metal pieces also helps reduce noise while moving. This armor is resistant to shock and ice damage but weak against fire and corrosion damage. Up to three weaves can be equipped.

Thunderjaw’s Disk Launcher: Isaac can use the disks like a Thunderjaw can or launch them at a high speed. It’s not an easy weapon to use, as its recoil can destabilize Isaac if he’s in movement, and it has a very slow recharge, but it’s the heaviest damage dealer from the arsenal. Its firepower can make big explosions and great area damage. Up to two coils can be equipped.

Thunderjaw’s Tail: It is the second heaviest and slowest melee weapon Isaac has, but when used correctly, it can cause great damage to his targets, destroy some types of human constructions, stun machines, and even kill humans on the spot. Its shovel-like shape also allows Isaac to throw objects away (with very poor precision) or even yeet Aloy and Beta to help them reach places or to aid in some fight strategy.

Oseram's tank armor: Made of the best Oseram hard leather and steel, this armor greatly protects Isaac, making him much more resistant to various damage kinds. However, the materials weigh him and consequently slow him down, thus making him sink underwater, and he needs to use more energy for his leaps and high jumps. This armor is highly resistant to corrosion and fire damage but has some weak spots for ice and shock damage. Up to three weaves can be equipped.

Bellowback’ Snout: This weapon is an adapted version of the Bellowback’s ranged elemental weapon for Isaac. It gives him the ability to shoot fire or acid projectiles. It can also be used as a close-range defense weapon; hence, it can be used as a flamethrower or acid jet-like gun as well. Up to two coils can be equipped.

Stormbird’s Tail: Isaac can use this weapon like a Stormbird: an electric whip-like melee weapon, still keeping the shocking damage but in a much smaller range and potency. However, if not used cautiously, the whip can get stuck in places or be grabbed by bigger machines. This tail is also useful for Isaac to balance himself while climbing or walking in places such as metal columns in ruins. Isaac must have this tail equipped to be able to swim underwater correctly.

Carja’s speed armor: The sisters arranged the traditional Carja clothing adornments in a way that makes Isaac more aerodynamic, and the lightness of the materials also helps Isaac run faster, leap further, and jump higher than he normally could. Although pretty, the materials of this armor aren’t made for battle, leaving Isaac vulnerable to all kinds of damage - especially physical damage. Up to three weaves can be equipped.

Scorcher’s Mine Launcher: Aside from the normal mines a scorcher can use, this version of its weapon also has the option to use stick mines. Either version of ammos can be used on battle strategies of timed controlled explosions, as the mines won’t explode until they get hit. These mines have two versions: fire and electric explosions. Up to two coils can be equipped.

Frostclaw’s Front Paw: The closest Isaac will get to “grabby hands” so far. It’s the biggest physical damage dealer but the slowest melee weapon due to its heavy weight. Isaac can not just inflict heavy damage but also use the big hand to grab huge objects and machines way bigger than him. This weapon is so heavy that it may destabilize him during curves at high speed, compromise his balance while climbing, and increase the needed energy to sprint, jump, and leap.

Banuk Power Armor: The Sobecks learned with the Banuk crafting how to improve the energy flow and distribution on a machine. This armor increases Isaac's total stamina energy and reduces the needed charge to sprint, jump, or leap. The improved energy flow also helps increase the damage from Isaac’s melee and ranged weapons. However, the increase in the energy flow makes Isaac heat up way faster if not used correctly. Up to three weaves can be equipped.

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shotmrmiller · 1 month ago

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kinktober: gunplay (ghoap x reader) cw: the tiniest of dub-con if you squint 1.8k of this foolishness and im pretty sure i lost the plot somewhere but in my defense, guns don't interest me

When you wake, you notice that Ghost isn’t in the tent. His bedroll neatly rolled up and put away in its usual spot and by the looks of things, he's been gone for quite some time. You sit up, the morning light filtering through the tent's fabric— the soft, diffused glow creating gentle shadows on the ground.

Outside, the air is crisp and sweet, dew still fresh on the grass, damp beneath your bare feet. Soap's lone mare is tied to the hitching post, tail flicking lazily as she eats off the hay net.

The campsite is quiet except for the chirping of birds and Soap's deep, growling snores coming from behind you. Ghost isn't here. Ghost isn't here. The thought bounces around in your skull, heart loud in your ears as the realization begins to sink in.

You could get away, slip away unnoticed from these two who've kept you as their reluctant companion since they wrangled you up in a rowdy saloon a couple of towns back with your hand deep in someone else's pocket. "Behave and we won't give ya up for the meager bounty yer worth." Or worse. The three of you knew no one would miss you, no family or friends to claim the body if you ended up face down on a riverbank.

It’s now or never. Freedom stands in front of you in a glossy, white coat and a braided mane, but being Soap’s horse, even approaching her will be a gamble. You'll just have to risk getting bucked off and trampled on.

When you go back inside to gather the few belongings you've got, you spot Soap's gun belt in all its worn leather glory lying in a tangled heap in the corner, revolvers still snug in their holsters. He must've gotten in late from town, the reward for the bounty he turned in last night traded in for hooch.

A mistake. His costly mistake. And a chance to ride his mare relatively unharmed. Your fingers tremble as they wrap around the handle, the ingrained symbol digging into your palm as you tighten your grip. You may not be a gunslinger with the fastest draw in the West, but you do know what end to point at someone.

But Soap's a bounty hunter and a damn good one. His reflexes are fast— faster than they should be with his dense, muscular build. You've seen him close gaps with an unnatural speed that’s left even the toughest men reeling. He's a relentless force of pursuit when he wants to be and keeping him at a distance is a losing game, especially when you've no prior experience using a gun. Your only option is to corner him, limit his options. Every man bends the knee to power, and right now, you've got it in your clammy hand.

You straddle him, knees planted firmly on either side of his lower ribs, and press the barrel onto the left side of his jaw. Incredible, not even a hitch in his breathing, as if you're not sitting on him with your full weight. Fisting the front of his union shirt, you tug, the sharp, sudden sting of his chest hair being pulled taut waking him out of his deep sleep.

His bleary eyes snap open, blinking away any traces of sleep within moments, the new day's light catching the edges of his irises, making them gleam with an almost otherworldly brightness as they sweep the tent for any real danger.

Your breathing turns ragged once they land on you, satisfied, a wolfish grin tugging at the corner of his lips, revealing a hint of teeth. Dread claws at your gut, your nerves rattled, but you meet his gaze head-on. There is no room for hesitation, for doubt, not when the man you've got pinned with his own weapon is more touched in the head than Ghost is.

"I ken I'm handsome but all ye ‘ad t'do was ask, hen. I'm achin' fer the hair o' the hound if ye got any, though." His tone gives away nothing, his body completely lax. Even the rise and fall of his chest is steady, slow. You know better than to believe he isn't waiting on you to make the next move to retaliate, so you don't move. Neither of you do.

"You'll take me to town and you'll leave me there. Compared to the other folk you rope up and dump at the Sheriff's feet, I'm worth nothing." You'll make yourself scarce, move to a different state, maybe. A new life, a decent one. Honest work.

His smile widens, the puckered scar on his chin stretching. "Didnae think to take my girl? She's righ' there, saddle 'n all." Soap must think you daft.

"I want to disappear without drawing a target on my head large enough for you to see from across state lines." He would've hunted you down for sport, at that point. Soap blinks once, thrice, and then you have a solid weight pushing on your back, sudden and unexpected, forcing your upper body forward, your shoulders hunching in reflex.

The very familiar scent of earth and mildly ripe sweat sends a shiver licking up your spine, locking every notch firmly into place. Why you hadn't heard him arrive at camp or open the flaps to the tent is now irrelevant. Ghost is here now and you've nowhere to run, definitely not with Soap grabbing onto the soft of your waist, tethers made of human flesh and bone.

The weathered leather of his glove feels unexpectedly soft as his fingers curl around your trembling hand. "If you're gonna threaten ‘im, ya gotta do it proper," he mutters, breath warm against the shell of your ear. His voice is a low, rolling rumble, the kind he takes when calming his panicked horse.

"Easy now, settle down, loosen your arm a little." It does nothing to soothe you, Ghost looming larger than the gun in your grip, making it feel almost insignificant— a mere prop in the face of his overwhelming presence and the voice in your head screams at you to bare your neck, submit, and hope he goes for your jugular quickly, death seemingly a better choice than whatever game he’s making you play. "Open up, Johnny."

He does so readily, a transparent string of saliva stretching between his top and bottom teeth. Ghost's denim-clad thighs bracket yours as he settles comfortably behind you, his barrel chest engulfing the entirety of your back with space to spare.

Soap lies there with his tongue out like a dog on a hot, summer's day, mouth open wide enough for you to see the ridges and grooves of his molars. Ghost forcibly moves your hand, metal scraping against Soap's stubble with a coarse, gritty sound.

“Lie still Johnny, ya hear?” his pointer finger hovering over the trigger. The lump that’s risen to your throat makes breathing hard, each swallow a struggle. You never intended to fire a shot, just hoped the threat of life and death would be enough to make things go your way.

“W-wait,” you gurgle out but Ghost’s hand only tightens around yours.

“Can’t get cold feet now, sweet’eart, not when Soap’s southern blood is pumpin’ ‘cause a you.” His-? You take notice of it then, the rigid swelling between your legs, pushing up into your center. As if to drive the point home, Soap bucks his hips while pulling you down, making the inseam of your pants brush against your pearl.

“Oh-,” he does it again, and again, the leaden lump of dread that had once anchored itself in your belly begins to melt away, becoming an insistent ache that quickens your heartbeat and warms your veins, a mellow heat radiating from your core outward.

And then two things happen at once.

Soap takes the pistol’s barrel into his mouth, slightly pursing his lips as he creates a seal around it, and his cheeks gently hollow as he bobs his head forward and back, and Ghost slowly weaves his unoccupied hand south, under your jeans and underwear, the roughened tips of his fingers quickly finding what you’ve been forced to neglect for months.

Soap grunts, a gravelly resonant sound— rich and full— when you dig your nails into the meat of his chest as Ghost jerks erratic little circles on your puffy clit, sending shockwaves through your stomach, each wave headier than the last.

“Can’t let ‘im ‘ave all the fun, eh?” The pressure on your waist is enough to ache, your flesh already throbbing beneath Soap’s hands, and the closer you get to the precipice, the harder they squeeze.

Metal clacks against tooth every time your body tenses, muscles constrict, unable to keep your arm steady even with Ghost’s iron grip over your own. Soap’s a slobbering mess, spit dribbling down his chin, pistol glossy with it as he sucks on it as if it were a man’s cock instead.

(Maybe he wants it to be.)

A couple of hiccups claw up your throat as the sticky, wet sounds of Soap’s mouth get drowned out by the shrill ringing in your ears as you teeter on the sharpened edge, Ghost’s pace on you turning frantic, almost violent, and—

“Keep those pretty eyes on Johnny, he’s been dreamin’ of lookin’ at ya in the face while you come.”

Ghost tossing the gun aside, metal skidding across the floor, and you’re coming apart with Soap’s tongue in your mouth, swallowing your every gasp and moan.

It tastes like the lubricant he uses to clean his gun. Metallic. Tangy. Slightly acrid.

You’re barely able to draw in a breath when Ghost is already tugging your pants off, waistband coming to settle snugly right below your arse, exposing only what he needs, a couple of fingers gliding along your folds, curling right at your entrance.

But he doesn’t do what you expect; for him to sink into cunt, fill it to the brim, distended until you’ve got tears clumping your eyelashes and blood on your tongue.

(It’s been a very long time since you’ve last laid with a man, and not one has ever been as big as he in stature.)

Instead, he takes Soap’s bare length in one giant paw, using your creamy slick for better friction, and ruts his own heavy cock against it until they’re both spurting the warm spend Ghost crams into your needy hole with two fingers.

“‘M not fuckin’ you, not after your stupid little stunt,” he says as if he’s talking about the weather, and you’re not sure if laughing will stop the hysterical sob about to slither past your trembling lips.

Soap stares up at you with a heavy-lidded gaze, content, satiated unlike you, and pinches your cheek with his fingers. “Next time ye want tae threaten a person—,” his voice peters off, and you can feel Ghost wiping his hand on the back of your shirt before reaching for Soap’s pistol and pressing a button, the cylinder dropping open.

Empty. Every single chamber is hollow, like the empty sockets of a honeycomb. “Make sure it’s loaded, sweet’eart.”

Un. fucking. Believable.

#i tried so i get a golden star for my weak efforts #twas supposed to be but a drabble #simon ghost riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #ghoap x reader #ghoap x you #cod smut #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #cod mw2 #call of duty #simon ghost riley x you #john soap mactavish x reader

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theresascove · 1 month ago

Text

🕷️ Her Secret Life

spiderverse!ellie williams x f!reader

your girlfriend has a secondary life living as the spider-person in your city—and for years you’ve been unaware until you come face to face with the truth

tw: not proofread (shitty writing), spiderverse!au, fluff, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, loser!ellie, established relationship, angst w happy ending, protective/protector!ellie, weapon (gun, knife), injury (e and r sustaining), kidnapping (r), blood tw, argument, love confessions, intimate non-sexual nudity, fluff, fingering (r receiving), r had hair people can grip

wc ✎ 4.3k

“Shit,” you hiss, peeling your hand back from the burner. A bit of boiling water had flung over, landing itself onto your hand. Ellie, nearby, moves near when she heard the sound coming from your clenched teeth. She smiles softly, bringing your hand up to her face and kissing where it burns.

You shrug her off with a matching smile growing on your face, “flirt.”

“You say that like you don’t love it,” she sighs, wrapping her arms around your stomach. You spin around, attention shifting to her entirely—expression serious and gentle.

“I do love it,” you peck her cheek.

Her eyes—at their best shade of green when the sun hit her in such a way—glance down at your lips. She pulls you close just as she’s done for the past three years to pour her emotions grown for you over the time she’s known you.

The broadcast on the tv slips between the moment the two of you share—taking ahold of her focus all the while her lips keep coming back to yours. Physically she was still on you, but emotionally she was a whirlwind.

A burglary’s happening, a gun’s involved. How she wished to stay here wrapped in your arms and enjoy the food once it’s warm—she can’t. There’re people she’s required to save, she can’t leave them there.

The guilt eats her alive, motivating her to pull out of your embrace—leaving you sitting on the kitchen counter, lips swollen as she runs out. She stands by the front door, sliding her hair up into a small pony tail and grabbing her keys.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just some stuff to handle,” she replied, her eyes bright but evasive.

As she walked out, a nagging feeling settled in your stomach. You shook it off, returning to finishing cooking the food you had set out earlier. Hearing the news on the tv, the bit of worrisome information had you shutting it off.

This wasn’t the first she’s ran out. It’s often that you feel that pit your stomach. It’s often that you see the far away look in her eyes as she runs out. She’s said it’s her job, but you’re worried for her. Your girlfriend left around 5:23pm, and finally arrived back home around midnight.

Her leaving is normal, only happening here and there—until the time came where she was gone for a concerning amount of time. Really made you question if she worked with a team with how many hours she would work. Her hours got worse, causing her to cut off time with you.

Dates and even the small moments were torn, ripped away from you. Instead of nights laughing in bed laughing until two AM, you’d gotten accustomed to a quieter room. The only sound you hear as you shut your eyes is the sound of the AC turning on and off. Ellie always came home, but you never noticed her until the morning after.

Instead of dates, you settled to spend more days to yourself. It was fine, you had no reason to be upset. Ellie had even tried to mend it with you. She brought up the idea of you two making a set moment so she can’t just run out.

Friday, 5:30pm. You both were getting dinner. The plans were set in the phone books, written on the calendar stuck to your fridge by a small magnet. It was written everywhere, a reminder of the excitement coming. You looked forward to it, you both did.

Once the day had arrived, you were left alone at that dining table—left outside to freeze once the sun had set. Just like how your skin was cold to the touch, so had become your temperament towards Ellie.

She shows to your shared apartment with pleas falling off her before the front door closed. It sounds desperate, and so it tugs at your heartstrings—but your last bit of patience had been burnt out tonight. You’ve given her many chances and she’s done nothing to revive them.

“Please,” she whispers, voice hoarse, “say something.”

“Like what? I’m pissed that you can’t seem to fucking show up to one thing between us but you can find a time in your schedule for strangers?”

She sputters, “they’re in danger, what do you expect me to do? It’s my job.”

“You’re right. So right. I’m selfish for wanting a minute with my girlfriend. I’m sorry.”

“That’s not what I’m saying, you know this.”

You spin, “do I? Because lately all I know about you is how good you are at disappearing everytime I need you.”

Oh, Ellie felt sharp pain in her chest—sharper than any knife that’s she’s had dug into her before. Your words combined with the tears in your eyes turned out to be a deadly combo. She should’ve stayed and talked more, you both should’ve communicated. But nonetheless, with heavy hearts, you both walked away from each other.

It wasn’t anything new—the empty space beside you, Ellie’s decor gathering dust on her bed stand. not new, but the chilling feeling continued into the morning. There was no dent put into the space beside you, there was no signs of her last night. You having staying in your apartment, tears falling harder when you watch her leave silently. For the first time in a while, you both stayed at your own apartments.

Turning the shower on was a temporary solution to the goosebumps that lined your body. Ellie liked to slide behind you while you took a shower, enjoying the intimate moment with you. The mornings usually were when she was most free—not much happening that required her to leave. So you cherished it. The shower was warm, warmer than usual so you could make up for the loss of the heat her body hugging you provided.

The water flowing down your body became a bit salty when your tears mixed. Regret filled you now and all you wanted to do was have her back. Living a moment you usually shared with her alone was breaking you. You missed her, you needed her to come back home. With whatever was in the air, you feared she might not come back—your conversation last night kind of sounding like it was leading towards discussing a breakup.

With the knowledge of knowing you are without her, it sure did come as a surprise when the door knob to your bathroom opened. Ellie always announced her presence when she comes in, and right now? it was eerily silent. You froze as you come to realize your situation, heart becoming so loud it rings in your ears. You’re cornered, and without your phone to dial someone for help.

“Make any sort of movement that I don’t like and I’ll shoot you immediately.”

After wrapping a towel around you, you come face to face with your intruder. Who knows why they’re here, but one good guess is money or they’re robbing your house. They take a good look at your tear stained face and your stone-cold expression before they grin.

“Oh how I wish she knew I was here.“

—————————

Ellie had been making her way towards your apartment, finger nails picked to the buds from her stress habits. She’s been a mess since last night, distraught just as much as you were—if not more. She’s always wanted to reveal her identity to you, but now she does more than ever. Knowing she could loose you was enough motivation for her to risk it all—to tell you the truth. So that’s why she’s at your door, knocking in hopes you’ll open it for her.

Nothing. Even after she’s knocked a tenth time, nothing. She calls your phone. Nothing. She texts you. Nothing. Either you’re really upset, or something wrong. She takes the worse case scenario and makes her way through your door, using the spare key you’ve made for her a while back. She calls your name as the door swings open, but it gets caught in her throat when she notices the state of your living room.

It’s been flipped. Decor strewn about, couch cushions placed in other areas of the room, broken glass. What sent her over the edge was a note, one of your known bright colored sticky notes stuck in the center of the room.

On the note it read, “come find us.”

She’s never felt such intense anger and pain in her life.

—————————

It was some hardware store, abandoned long ago no doubt. Your intruder and now kidnapper had you sitting knees first on the concrete floor. Bruises have lined your knees from where they shoved you to the ground once you first arrived. They’ve no real regard to your saftey, pushing and pulling you along without a care in the world. Your hands have since been bounded together by something you’ve never seen before, some different kind of plastic. It’s a material that’s much more difficult to break through than say rope.

Some time has gone by, silence permitting the room as you sit quietly on the floor just a few feet away. You’re still in shock, trying to accept that something like this could ever happen to you. It doesn’t feel real. It’s happened in shows, movies, news, but you in real life? It’s like a fever dream. Your kidnapper sits on a chair nearby, wasting the time by sharpening their knife—looking to you every now and then.

“That girl Ellie, she your girlfriend?”

You weren’t going to answer until you notice they’ve pointed their knife your way.

“Yes.”

They hum, looking back down to the project they’ve started, “I’m only looking after you when I say this. You should break up with her.”

“Why?”

“She doesn’t trust you.”

“What?”

“She doesn’t trust you.”

You nod without any regard to show your emotions, moving on so they’ll stop talking.

“Has she told you her little secret yet? Because it would be really embarrassing if I knew, but not you. Especially since I’m like her nemesis.”

There’s really no reason why that statement got under your nerves so quickly. They push their chair out from under them, stalking towards you and your heart beats louder with each step.

“That expression on your face makes me think she hasn’t.“

Their expression is a mix between playful and sinister, looking to find a crack in you and wedge inside of it.

“I know all about you actually,” they start, voice nothing but a whisper, “I mean it, all about you. About the two of you, your fight last night, what you know and don’t know about her.”

They crouch down to lean into your space, breathing heavily. Being so close it allows you to notice the mechanics in their left eye.

“When I say your girlfriend is someone I hate very much, one could say my enemy or rival, do you know why that is?”

“No.”

They sigh, “do I really have to be this blunt with you? Ellie’s this city’s spiderman and she’s been keeping it a secret because she doesn’t trust you.”

You furrow your eyebrows at what they’re saying, not believing it. They’ve no proof.

Just then a flash of a second later a flash of light comes crashing down from an overhead window, glass breaking onto the floor. There’s no time to even grasp what’s happening when you’re being tugged by your hair. You hiss, sitting up as high as you can in your knees to ease some of the pain. Across from the two of you stood Ellie, laced in her red and black suit. She’s been looking for hours, swinging around the entire city to look for you. It wasn’t until she made eye contact with this warehouse that she felt that tremble of her spider senses going off. Here she was now, staring at you for the first time while dressed in her other identity.

“Let her go.”

Your kidnapper laughs at their serious tone, cooing almost, “did I hit a nerve? Doing your research really does pay off sometimes. Anywho, no. Not until I get what I want.”

The two enter a conversation, one that sounds like they’ve had it many times before—but this time around it seems like your kidnapper may be the successful one.

“Well, I was just having a chat with your lovely girlfriend,” they gesture to you before you’re tossed onto the concrete carelessly, “told her about your little secret but I fear she doesn’t believe me. Could you help me out a bit?”

You gasp from the sting that came with hitting the ground, shoulder burning after receiving a brunt of the pain having colliding with the wall. With blurry eyes, you watch as the mask is removed—even with your pained vision you can tell it’s her. Short auburn hair, attention locked on you. You’re overall fine, just a few cuts and bruises—but each minor injury throws Ellie into a deep state of discomfort.

“It’s sweet the way you care for her. I wonder just how much you care,” they start, reaching to grab the knife they’ve been sharpening. They twirl it around in their hand with ease, eyes locked with your girlfriends as they move to crouch beside you.

“What would you do for her?”

You feel the knife graze the side of your neck, the cold and sharp feeling making you tense. Your eyes shut close, tightly—and you wish everything was just a nightmare.

“Everything.”

“Ah, good question. I can tell it’s honest because it’s cute how stressed you look,” they turn to you, “isn’t it cute? Open your eyes and look.”

You do as told.

“This is the behavior of someone that’s coming face to face with their terrible actions. Your girlfriend here realizes now that you know who she is, you know now about her constant lies. All about her “medical job,” all of those stories of how she’s come back with bleeding cuts.”

“I mean, do you even really know her? I bet you thought you did. Knew her like the back of your hand, your soulmate, the one you love. But this whole time she’s been keeping a secret from you. Wonder how much she actually really loves you if she can’t trust you with such an identity. She’s had enough time to have told you, and it doesn’t look like she was ever going to. After your fight last night it really is looking like she was going to sacrifice your relationship over it.”

Lies. You don’t know why but it feels like they’re making it all up. Maybe you’re stupid, or maybe the look in Ellie’s eyes was telling you what was really going on. They held a warmth there for you, the one you’ve been on the receiving end since the start of your relationship. This is the same look she’s given you before kissing you goodnight, the same look when you’re having a hard day, the same look when you first confessed that I love you phrase.

You might’ve been frustrated with her last night, and you might have some remaining once you’ve figured out she’s spiderman—but none of that was how you felt in this moment. Head resting against the wall with a knife positioned by your neck, you trust her. Your love for her hasn’t changed, and right now you want her to save you.

Ellie’s mask is held tightly in her fist, arm hanging tensely by her side, “what’s your motive for doing all of this?”

“Showing you what it’s like to be in my shoes. You killed my friend, and I’ll never forgive you for that. This is the only way I’ll forgive you. I have two solutions. One, I kill her. Two, I make you both agree to never see each other again. If either of you ever make a move to see one another, I’ll kill you right on the spot.”

“Are you a dumbass, what kind of “solutions” are these? Why would you offer solution one like I’d pick it?”

“You’re not picking them, I am. I’m deciding my mood.”

The buildings swallowed by silence after, save for your occasional sniffle. You’ve been doing good about keeping yourself disassociated with everything going on, but there’s only so much. Silent tears fall down as your chest stutters, lips wobbling from time to time.

Ellie licks her lips, “please just keep her alive, you can do what you want to me.”

“That’s unfair,” they snap, “I never was given a chance with my friend, they’re gone. You’re lucky I even offered another solution.”

You gasp when they press the knife a little harder, the blade close enough now it could cut.

“Thing is. If I kill her now, you’ll deal with this for the rest of your life. If I send you both to ignore each other, especially if I use my memory machine to take you out of the picture—it’s like she died, and it’ll torture you forever.”

At this point it’s like they’re mumbling to themself, discussing how each action sounds. Their grip on the knife loosens just a tad and in that small second Ellie shoots a web to knock the knife from their hold—shooting another to pull it towards her.

“Now I’m going to make a decision.”

She knocks them out cold, throwing a hit that sends them tumbling to the ground unconscious. Webs cover the area around them, trapping them in a cocoon almost. You’re still very much shaken even with such familiar hands touching you again, removing what bounded your wrists together.

Neither of you say anything. Ellie’s hands are running you over, checking for any signs of major injuries. Her hands are shaking, moving at a rushed state. Once she deems you’re alright, she’s calling the police—reporting what happened. All the while you’re needing her, you need her to hold you.

You’re still lying in the same position while she’s pacing and calling the town’s services, getting frustrated and confused from time to time. She’s frantic, blinking quick and voice shaky. You understand it, you do—neither of you have accepted fully what just transpired.

“Els,” you breathe, voice shaking.

She didn’t hear you, too focused on the call, so you reach for her with whatever energy you had left—desperate. Ellie breaks, crying despite being on the call.

“Yeah, thank you. I’ll be here until they show,” is the last thing she says before hanging up.

She gathers you into her, holding you ever so gently. She surrounds you, and you’ve never felt safer. You turn her suit dark from your deep, full-body sobs.

“I love you,” she whispers, sounding like she too had been crying just as hard as you, “I love you so much, you’re safe. I’ll always find you.”

You’re still trembling in her hold when the cops arrive, grasping tightly onto her and her you. After the medics offically check you over and treat your minor wounds—you’re dismissed from the scene.

Ellie takes you with her into the air, arm wrapped around you as she swings you back to her apartment. Your apartment would be an issue for a later time, but for now—there’s no energy to deal with that. She lands you two on the fire exit before opening the window and stepping down first to guide you in behind her.

Her mask and suit have been tossed off, instead replaced by other clothes. Shes moved slow, keeping you close as she takes it off. Once in normal clothes, she’s reaching for your hand and you take it eagerly—guiding you to her bed. Her rooms dark, only light coming from the moonlight casting from the windows behind her bed.

She guides you to lay beside her, blanket thrown on top of the both of you. It’s warm. It’s the first warmth you’ve felt since the other night. Oh that started you on a spiral. Ellie noticed, taking in how your expression falters.

“I’m so sorry.”

You cry so hard after that you have to press the back of your hands into your eyes, chest heaving. Ellie pulls you even closer if possible, melting the two of you into one. She’s so concerned, worried, scared, hurt, angry.

“Stop, please. Stop tearing yourself up, you’ve no reason to. You should be mad at me.”

“I can’t,” you hiccup, gripping onto her hands, “I can’t even be mad at you. I love you so much.”

Ellie crumbles, leaning in to leave a kiss on your cheek. She was testing the waters then, gaging how much you could take at the moment—and that little kiss sparked a passion. You leaned in, this time to connect your lips fully. Ellie met you where you were, warm fingers rubbing your hands.

“I love you,” you mumble, words muffled from your inability to keep your lips off her. She brushed a hand on your cheek, angling your face to kiss you deeper. You take it with need, you take everything she gives you like you’re starving.

She places a few kisses along your jaw, “I love you more.”

She ends up straddling you, legs on either side of your body. Her hair tickles your face from where she’s hovered on top. Each time she pulls back a little, you feel your heart skip a beat snd you’re pulling her closer. She minds none of it, needing it just as much as you.

Your breathing quickens when she kisses down your body, attention laser focused on your every little reaction. After a nod, she’s removing the shorts on your body. They fall somewhere in the room along with the rest of your guy’s clothes. Her naked body plus the blanket over the two of you was akin to a barrier against the world.

She works you open, fingers circling inside you and pressing against the spot that turns your mind into nothing. With everything heightened, you’re sensitive. You’re moaning into the void, and it’s a raw sound. She’s here, on top of you, touching you. Her naked body slides on yours, chests colliding and touching. She brings you to the edge fast, having only touching your sensitive clit a few times and pumping her fingers against that spot.

You gasp, lips parting from your kiss with her. She pants, eyes locked deep into yours.

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she says, wrapping her body around you, “never will any of this happen again.”

You keep her where she lays, tears forming yet again. This time you keep it silent, trying not to disturb her again but she knows you too well. She stays awake for a long time, laying beside but also on top of you. She can’t bring herself to sleep that night, she’s too anxious. Your breathing eventually evens out, body having a drop after being on adrenaline for too long. The entire night Ellie lays with you, rubbing your hip and holding onto you tightly.

Once you offically begin to stir around late morning the next day, you wake up in a panicked state.

“I’m right here,” she says with such gentleness, grip on you a tight reminder of her presence.

You shift closer, “shower with me?”

It’s like all the times before. Her body sliding behind you and under the warm water. She hugs you, kissing your neck and shoulder.

“Why’ve you never told me about being spiderman?”

“I was told not to, that I couldn’t tell anyone because nobody could be trusted.”

“So they were right about you not trusting me.”

You didn’t mean to have that tone with her, it just came spewing out. She doesn’t take it personally whatsoever, just leaning to press her lips to your shoulder again.

“I absolutely trust you. I just didn’t wish to go against my boss essentially. I was at a loss, I’ve been wanting to tell you since day one.”

She turns you until you face her. Just seeing her, having her like this again—fuck, just seeing her was enough to make you bawl all over again.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Please stop apologizing, you’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You saved my life and I’m—“

You couldn’t finish it due to crying again. Your legs had grown weak after, buckling from the weight. The two of you ended up together on the bathtub floor, Ellie holding and guiding the two of you towards the floor. She was behind you, her legs opened so you could lay between them. Her arms were around your midsection, holding onto your hands.

“What can you do as a spiderman?”

“Shoot webs, climb buildings, get senses for things going on around me, save you.”

You hum, savoring the feeling of her soft repetitive kisses on your neck.

“I also tell funny jokes.”

“You don’t need your other identity to do that.”

You twist uncomfortably for a moment to kiss her. Even in this situation you’re the most beautiful person she’s ever seen. Teary eyes, cuts along your body, bruises on your cheek. You were beautiful.

“I love you,” she says for the hundredth time since coming back home. One usually assumes the more something is said, the less value it holds—but with her confessions, you crave for the next time she says it each time. It holds the same response from you.

You kiss her again for longer, everything fading away as you’re here in her arms—“I love you more.”

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bvidzsoo · 2 months ago

Text

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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yandere-kokeshi · 10 months ago

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Warnings: yandere behavior, slight NSFW

Yandere! Dragon-Price does things to me, like, oh my god

He hates smelling people on you. It's in his nature to be possessive, keeping his valuables safe — which includes you. He curls his tail around your body, huffing out gray smoke when he notices people are looking at you. He fucking hates it. He wants to kill anyone who stares at you. But who is he to judge? You're perfect. It's an absolute ruby he's collected and said it's mine. It's only a matter of seconds before a few hickeys are stuck on your neck and his chucking at your flustered face.

He's so gentle around you that it is so funny. His claws barely put pressure, scared of hurting you or even scarring your pretty skin. But when he's ramming into you, he marks your skin accidentally; bruises or cuts, which he ends up patching later as an apology.

He loves putting his face between the area around your neck and shoulder — smelling your scent and inhaling it. Most of the time, he's doing it from behind.

Or how he purrs when he's happy like a cat. It's low, an almost hum that comes from his stomach. But it's enjoyable, especially if it's at night and it's the first time sleeping with him after he kidnapped you.

Like the post above, it's in his nature to keep things or so say collects things. Pretty things, just like you. And that, he loves to collect items he thinks you'll love. Jewelry, pillows, blankets, and even rocks he found on his missions.

If you thank him with a huge smile, you can see his pointed ears turn light pink as his tail swings left-to-right in a happy mood.

His wing and horns are extremely sensitive. And it doesn't mean to be — when touching the bone of his wing, especially where it comes out of his back, he hisses as if he's in pain; but the obvious boner and panting is what gives it away.

Same with his horns, they're great on holding — either when you're on his shoulders as he shuffles around, or when you're on top and need something to hold your life onto.

Lastly, his teeth. His damn, sharp teeth. He gets annoyed with them, sometimes growls when he accidentally bites his lip, yet again, when eating. But they're territorial– using them as a weapon when he feels threatened.

He hisses when he smells you in fear, hissing out whilst his eyes turn into predatory slits. He just protects what's rightful his, even if he needs to be covered in blood.

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bamfkeeper · 4 months ago

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Kurt going absolutely feral if he sees you hurt, you never expected him to be so vicious.

I think sometimes people get caught up in his playfulness and kind hearted nature but can be absolutely vicious when he wants to be. If you got hurt in battle or if someone hurt you in any way, he'd lose his mind.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, descriptions of injuries and blood/cleaning wounds, gender neutral reader, unedited ignore mistakes.

WC: 1.4k

Kurt loves you so much, and he shows it every single chance he gets. He's thoughtful, patient, and he listens to you whenever you need him to. Sometimes his friends forget what he's capable of under all that sweetness he displays. You do too.

You never saw him go all out in the Danger Room. Most of the time, training by his side consisted of Kurt sticking to you like glue and protecting you. You eventually had to ask him to stop, you needed to try to fight on your own. How else would you learn?

He still watched like a hawk, observing from a distance, since he could absolutely teleport to you if he needed. While the Danger Room presented threats in a fake projection and had hard obstacles, there was no real threat. Sure, you could get hurt, nothing would actively attempt to cause severe harm.

But real battles were different.

In real life, your opponent will try to kill you.

In real life, there are consequences if you aren't careful.

When your first mission came, Kurt insisted on coming with the chosen members for the team, he wouldn't let you go off on your own. You could handle yourself, he knew that. But he still couldn't shake the feeling of not knowing what would happen if he wasn't there.

"Kurt, I'll be fine. You know I've been working hard and I've passed all the tests," you said calmly, while he shifted beside you and gave you a small pout. You knew he was just trying to keep you safe, he cared so much and all he wanted to do was protect you. His tail wrapped around your leg and he sighed back.

"I know, liebling..." he whispered softly, "But I cannot help it. I know you are strong, and fully able to care for yourself." he held your cheeks and smiled at you. "I just want to make sure you'll be okay."

"I can't get any better if you're always there to be my safety net, Kurt." you cooed, but with a small frown. "Sometimes, I need to get hurt so I can get tougher. Or so I can improve my skills. Besides, Scott said I've been doing really good and that I'm ready, otherwise he wouldn't have chosen me for this mission." you added. "You know he can be a stickler."

Kurt chuckled in return, "Ja, he can be rather strict...but I want to make sure you're safe. I won't interfere, not unless I have to." Kurt promised softly.

During the big fight, you were facing three larger enemies. The men held weapons and began to swing them at you, but you were trained enough to dodge and avoid their hits. You were doing well, swinging back and avoiding their weapons, but three against one was hard. You weren't used to such relentless attacks, at least not from opponents hellbent on actually killing you.

In the heat of the moment, you mistook your step, not able to move out of the way quick enough. You feel a fist connect to your jaw, then your cheek, then the center of your nose. You stumble back and feel something flow down your nose, a metallic taste on your tongue.

You get a little roughed up, a few more good punches to the face and being tossed around from the sudden barrage of attacks. You had been caught off guard, as you were used to Kurt showing up within the second to defend you. You were grateful, but mentally cursed yourself for relying on him mid-battle.

Kurt fights off a few opponents and looks just in time to see you thrown onto your back and roll a little from the force of impact. He sees blood on your face and your body shake as you try to stand and recover. At that moment, he looses all composure.

He rushes at the opponent, "Stay away from them!" he snarled angrily, teleporting on top of them and knocking them away from you. He swings his swords and begins an intense duel with them. Hitting over and over, weaseling away from their reactive attacks while landing fierce strikes. You watch from the ground, your pain momentarily subsided as you witness his attack.

You have never seen Kurt so fast. He swings and jumps, his agile body moving almost like water, avoiding any counter the opponent had. If he wasn't battling, you would've been fooled that he was performing for the circus again. He was so elegant to watch, how he moved was hypnotizing. His tail wrapped around the opponent's arm and jerked so their fist collided with their face. Kurt jumped off and let the enemy fall onto their back.

He showed his swords, giving a growl, "Is that all you got, wretched bastards." Kurt spoke with malice in his voice, teleporting between them and knocking the two opponents down with a single twist and kick. When he landed he pointed his sword at them, silent victory.

Kurt glared down at the enemies while the rest of the team with you secured them. He didn't take his eyes off the men who attacked you, glaring and baring his teeth like an animal. He growled and watched as they were all gathered so the team could clear the area. Only after the men were secured did he turn back and rush to you.

"Liebling!" A sudden puff of smoke appeared beside you, and so did he. "Are you okay??" he asked, kneeling down as his hands gently took your cheeks, his eyes taking in your bloodied face. "You're hurt....it's okay. I'm here, I'll get you to the jet..." he carefully cradled you, your surroundings flashed with brilliant purple and black shades, like you were rushing through clouds with bright light peeking through before your surroundings suddenly appeared as the interior of the jet.

"Just relax. I will take care of you, where do you hurt?" he asked, quickly grabbing one of the first aid kits. Your ribs hurt badly, and if they weren't broken you'd be shocked. You had taken a few good hits to the face, and hitting the ground just made your hip sore. But luckily nothing too serious.

"Kurt...m'fine, really." you rasped out, slowly wiping your nose, looking down at the blood that had collected. "Just a little sore...I'm alright." you reasoned with your blue lover, but he shook his head.

"Nein, schatz...you are beaten black and blue..." he knelt back down and gently wiped your face with a rag to clean the blood. He positioned your head up slightly, dabbing a cotton ball soaked with rubbing alcohol. The smell made you cringe, and you leaned back as your cheek stung.

"Ow..." you mumbled, "Kurt, please. I can handle myself," you looked up to continue to talk but the look on his face made you pause. He was worried, he didn't like seeing you hurt. He wanted to take care of you, that was all. He looked back at you, his yellow eyes full of concern and sadness. So you held your tongue and allowed him to continue, even though you were fully capable of doing this, there was no harm letting him.

He dabbed your cuts clean, then applied some ointment to them. The entire time he tended to you, he made sure that he was very gentle. "Easy, liebe...just a little bit more." He applied the last butterfly bandage to your cheekbone and pulled back, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. "Done."

You sighed with relief, sitting up with some trouble since your ribs were definitely damaged. "Thank you, Kurt...you're always so sweet to me." you smiled and kissed his cheek. He eagerly responded and he kissed you back after you pulled away. His tail wrapped around your waist gently and he positioned to hold you.

"We will leave soon. For now just rest...I promise to tend to you if I need to." he whispered, holding your head to rest on his chest. You couldn't fight him anymore, and you relaxed against him. His tail slowly rubbed up and down your back just as you liked, lulling you to sleep.

"Schlaf gut." he whispered, nuzzling his nose into your hair and feeling satisfied with you pulled against him. It scared him, seeing you on the ground like that. You didn't have any serious wounds, but he couldn't imagine if you did. He knew it was bound to happen one day, being part of the team meant every once in a while, injury will occur. He shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts.

Instead he just held you a little tighter, happy you were safe and okay.

Thanks for reading.

*BAMF*

dividers by @/adornedwithlight

Cover Images: Way of X #5 (2021); X-Men the Onslaught Revelation #1 (2021); Way of X #5 (2021)

#kurt wagner #nightcrawler #kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #x men #xmen #x men 97 #🎠my works

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dilatorywriting · 6 months ago

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Monster Mayhem: Siren's Song [Part 1.5]

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: There is a little, annoying human trapped in this bay with him. And he's going to eat them. (Vil's POV)

[PART 1] [PART 1.5] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [PART 5]

There was a little, raggedy human staring up at him from the sand, and Vil had never felt so miserably persecuted in all his years.

The thing had been bound to him in a mess of ropes and frantic, bipedal flailing, and he’d honestly thought that it had drowned. Hoped that it had drowned. But no, apparently he couldn’t be quite so lucky. None of his pod’s raids had ever gone so terribly, and normally he was better able to keep his head about him. But it had been Epel’s first attempt at sneaking on board one of the grand, creaking, human vessels, and maybe he’d been a touch concerned about it. Like a fretting parent sending their guppy off to the deep for their first solo-swim. And perhaps he’d struck a bit too quick and sharp when he saw things headed South. Not taking the normal care he would to assess for traps, or weapons, or stupid humans and their equally stupid, fraying ropes.

But none of that mattered. It was hardly a crime to want to protect your family. It had happened, that was the end of it. There was no changing things. And now he was here. In this cove. With that thing.

You pedaled backward in the sand like those two legs of yours hardly worked at all, and even though it looked like you were retreating (rightfully so, at least you were smart enough to realize this was a lost battle), Vil still bared his teeth in a challenge. Because he was angry, and sore, and at the moment you were the cause of every, single one of his problems in the world. He tossed his tail in the surf, splattering stinging bits of ice water into your face.

“Stop! Stop!” you squawked, wheeling away like he was dousing you in acid rain rather than a bit of pissy water warfare. “I get it! I won’t come near you, jeesh! I wasn’t planning on it to begin with!”

“Of course you weren’t,” he spat. “From the looks of you, you don’t plan much of anything at all.”

You didn’t respond to his scathing insult, only kept scooting yourself back against the sand on legs that still apparently refused to work. Or maybe you’d simply forgotten about them. You seemed like you could be the type.

He ground his talons into the damp sand at his hips and felt the ridges of the fins along his spine prickling tight and painful, trying to puff out in a predatory display that they simply couldn’t because he was still bound in the godforsaken rope.

“I don’t know what your little plan was,” he hissed, “but you’ve done both of us a disservice. And while I’m sure you’re used to disappointment, I am not going to tolerate this.”

More silence. You looked—not confused, per se. But definitely not particularly keen on following his very justified rant against your person. Your gaze kept darting from his vicious glare, to his claws digging up the shoreline, and then to his lips. He could see your own mouth moving a bit alongside his, like you were trying to echo the shape of the insults flying off his tongue.

“Listen here, you fleshy rat,” he snapped, jabbing a black talon in your direction. “You’re going to tell me the course that your ridiculous ship had set so that I can return to my pod at once. Do you understand? And if you’re lucky, I won’t crawl my way up there to bite off your fingers one by one. How’s that sound?”

You blinked back at him with no comprehension, like his marvelous depiction of having your bones gnawed on for snacks just wasn’t a vivid enough picture.

The rage in his chest bubbled bright and hot, and the age-old magics in his veins zipped through his blood like a stroke of lightening.

Insolent brat.

Fine. He’d make you listen then.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” you said, and oh, you were a nuisance. He was going to rip your nerves out from the depths of your useless, human limbs. Feast on your bones until the marrow had been picked clean and leave the scraps for the gulls—

He parted his lips and sang loud and sharp—letting that familiar lull roll off his tongue like the sweetest poison. His Call had always been the strongest in his pod, after all. That’s why it was his job to keep them safe, to ensure that no one was lost in a hunt that was meant to be so simple just because they couldn’t keep their purple-headed curiosity under wraps long enough to not to be caught—

Vil turned his sneer back your way, fully prepared to see you kowtowed before him with your nose buried in the sand. And—

You were just sitting there. Butt in the muck and just as wide-eyed and brainless as before. Staring back at him with a startled sort of expression on your face and nothing else. Normally there was a sort of tether between him and his victims. A call, an answer. Simple principles. And while he could never see the tangible net of his influence tightening around their brains, he could always sense it. Or at least something like it. But this time, there was just… nothing.

Vil snarled, swallowing around the spiky pinch of something in his gut that he refused to call panic, and canted his head back to sing louder.

The shallow dregs of the cove rippled at his hips with the force of it, and he could feel the swell of his influence curling out further and further. Digging its claws into anything and everything it could reach. He could feel one tether spooling out and grabbing after the other, feel the familiar pull of subservience from the very sea itself. And—

“I can’t hear you!”

Oh, you mocking piece of—

He widened his mouth until his jaw was creaking and his tongue was going numb from the sharp bursts of arcana snapping from throat.

“It’s not a challenge!” you wailed, hands cupped over your mouth to try and shout over his howling song. “My ears literally, actually, do not work, you fucking overgrown anchovy!”

His mouth fell closed all at once, the Call cutting off so abruptly that the returning wave of snapping magics almost made his head spin. The power of it hung along his nerves like the zipping prickle of electric eels, and the water at his hips churned and bubbled.

“There,” you huffed, like someone who’d just been horribly inconvenienced by a gust of wind ruining their hair, rather than a human bearing the full weight of a siren’s fury. Brushing off some of the most powerful magics in the ocean like it was nothing worse than a bit of sand in your trousers. It was… unnerving. And it had something uneasy curdling in Vil’s stomach.

He dug his claws into the sand, fins flaring along his sides in a defensive display before he could help himself. Your eyes tracked the way the muck gave way beneath his talons and he watched your throat bob. Good. You should be afraid of him. Because he refused to be afraid of a human like you. No matter how the hair at his nape prickled or the fins at his ears pinned against the sides of his head.

“Well…” you said after a long moment, awkward and stiff. “I should get going, I suppose.”

And then you were stumbling your way to your feet to venture deeper into the crags of the small island. Vil smacked his tail against the surf, loud and sharp. A plaintive ‘good, begone,’ if ever there was one. But you didn’t even flinch, let alone turn around to witness his grand ‘fuck you.’ He wasn’t sure why he was expecting you to.

He watched you crawl your way up a mess of boulders and old shells, eyes narrowed and that same, unpleasant prickle running through his nerves. Once you were well and truly out of sight, he returned to his fins and started doing all he could to assess the damage. The sooner he could deal with this setback and set out into the depths of the ocean, the sooner he could return to his pod. And the sooner he’d be away from you, and all your strange, human ways.

You returned maybe an hour later, only a few minutes after he’d given up on trying to pick the horrid mess of twine from the wounds along his tail. His claws weren’t made for such delicate work, and the poisoned tips of them weren’t doing his shredded fins any favors.

He turned on you with a snarl that would have sent any other sentient creature scurrying for cover, fins pinned and canines on full display. But apparently you had less self-preservation than even the brainless, teeny, rock crabs burrowing hurriedly into the sand.

“Hello,” you said. Like that was any way appropriate.

“Get lost,” he snarled.

You nodded back, simple and sage, and then pointed to the mess of your ropes twined along his fins.

“I can get that off if you promise not to eat me.”

Vil sneered and surged forward to scrape his claws through the muck again, hoping his demonstration of what he would do to your face if you stepped near him was clear enough to get through your head.

“Touch me and you’ll be lucky if all I do is eat you.”

You blinked back, and he watched the way your eyes jumped across his expression. Trailed to his mouth, his brow, his teeth. Reading whatever you could see there. And then you shrugged again, unbothered by his spitting threats as before.

“Alright. Your loss, I suppose.”

There was a keenness to your gaze though, a sharp, pointed consideration that had his hackles rising all over again.

“If you think that you can be rid of me that easily, you’re solely mistaken,” he spat, smacking his fins into the shallows until the water was churning wild and angry. “This is all your fault, and whatever ridiculous plot you’re considering, I’ll gladly return it tenfold.”

Your face pinched like you had any right to be annoyed by this at all, and then promptly turned away from him like you’d lost all interest in his theatrics. You meandered around the shore, scooping up the battered remains of some of the fish that had stranded themselves during his failed Call. Then you sat yourself well away from the water’s edge and pulled a knife from your boot, running it along the fish’s scales and clearing out the muck.

“Thanks for the food!” you chirped petulantly, making long, pointed, eye contact as you did so. Like that little blade of yours was supposed to be any sort of a threat. Perhaps he could use it to pick the leftover bits of you out of his teeth.

Vil turned up his nose and returned to carefully grooming the shredded ends of his fins.

“You’re an obnoxious brat,” he growled, wincing as his claws caught over a frayed patch of scales and began to bleed all over again. “And I’m going to drown you.”

Naturally, you did not respond.

The rope burned, and he knew he wasn’t helping himself. The twine of it was frayed, poor quality. And combined with the tacky, salt-sticky damp of the waves, it made the worst sort of web. Vil threw himself around in the shallows like a pup stuck in their first net. And he knew—knew—this wasn’t going to make things better. But the more he worked to free himself and the less progress he made, the angrier he got (Not afraid, angry. He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t).

A tight bit of fibers snagged along the delicate mesh of the fins at his hips and gave a shrieking riiip that had him collapsing into the sand bed with a bitten off noise that he refused to call a gasp. But Sevens, it did hurt. He pressed his face into the shallow pool of warm water beneath his chin and forced his breath to calm, to dig his claws into the grit beneath him rather than his own scales. Because this wasn’t working. And he—he needed to fix it. On his own. Because he was on his own. And he was going to manage, just like he always had.

There was a noise off on the shore—the tumbling of pebbles against stone as you shifted around in your little, makeshift hideaway. And he refused to look up to meet your gaze. Because surely you were staring. Humans were always so happy to watch his kind suffer, flailing about in their traps and bound in nets like a garish display. And he wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of knowing he’d been seen like… like this.

So he forced himself to go still and silent, ignoring the pain biting into his sides like the teeth of a shark and the panicked, clawing thing in his gut that kept screaming that he was going to die here.

The next morning, you were wandering the shoreline, scrounging after the remains of various crabs from the day prior. Vil refused to look at you, and spent the time pointedly running his claws through the tangles in his hair and primping himself like he didn’t have a care in the world. Because if a stupid, lowly human fit for nothing but an after-dinner-snack could thrive in these circumstances, than surely he could do even better.

There was the soft, wet sounds of your footsteps behind him, and Vil turned on you with a roaring snarl—fins pinned and spines perked, defensive.

“What?” he snapped, beating his tail.

You awkwardly held up one your pickings—a round, red crab with fat claws.

“I don’t know if you all eat fish or whatever, but…”

Vil fought the urge to gawk. Were you offering him one of—but why would you—

He bit through his surprise with another sneer. “Firstly, crabs are crustaceans, not fish. You’d think any self-respecting creature that spent their days on the ocean would know something as obvious as that. Secondly, why would you even think that I would share a meal with you? Even I didn’t think humans could be that stupid, but you’re certainly setting a new bar.”

Your mouth twitched at his very sharply enunciated ‘stupid’ and he fought a smirk.

“Oh. Know that one, do you?” he cooed, all mocking.

“Look, do you want it or not?” you snapped, irritated, and his fins flared up again—wide and defensive.

Vil crossed his arms on an exaggerated, pointed huff and turned in the other direction. A clear dismissal. “I’d rather starve.”

“Whatever,” you griped, voice canted sharp with your foul temper, and then there was a crack and a yelp.

Vil turned back to see you reeling away, hand over your mouth to catch a mix of blubbering, wincing curses and a shattered crab shell clenched between your fingers in the most obvious show of stupidity he’d perhaps ever seen. He burst out into laughter before he could help himself, and you stormed away with warm cheeks and pieces of jagged, red shell still clinging to the corners of your lips.

That night he fought the ropes even harder, ignoring the way they pulled, and tore, and dug into places that he knew they should not. And maybe it was self-destructive, stupid, but if he didn’t get himself free of this horrible mess his fins would never heal. He’d never be able to swim properly again. And he’d never be able to leave this cove, never return to his pod, his family. Never—

A shell walloped him in the back of the head and Vil turned with a shriek so vicious it nearly startled even him. Because there you were—the bane of his existence. Standing at the edge of the water with that ridiculous, deadpan look on your ridiculous face and already scrounging about in the sands like you were looking for something else to throw at him. He didn’t even know what he was screaming at that point, absolutely brought over the edge in rage, and pain, and fear, and it was all. your. faul—

Then something in your expression snapped and you were storming forward towards the surf—absolutely incensed.

“Look, fish face! You were the one who attacked me! You!” you shrieked, stomping in the sand and nearly pinning the longer, trailing ends of his fins beneath your heels. “So stop acting like I’m some scheming shithead who was planning to trap you like this from the start!”

“You trapped me!” he howled, outraged. “You were going to kill a member of my pod! Who’s barely out of his pup days! And he was my responsibility, and you were going to attack him!”

Magic zipped along his tongue, demanding that you kneel. Show your throat and be done with it. But when you just kept glaring back—absolutely stone-faced and seething with indignation—Vil forced himself to take a breath, and then another.

“Epel,” he spat, low and exaggerated. He saw your eyes flicker to his lips, trace the outline of the word. “Epel,” he said again, sharp and angry. And when your own mouth began to subconsciously follow the shape of it, he was off and running again. “He’s my responsibility. Epel. He—” Vil pointed at the pale, lavender creases at the base of his fins. “His hair is like this. You saw him. You spoke to him. And you were going to tie him up just like you did to me.”

Your eyes narrowed, sharp.

“That kid,” you said after a moment, lips twisting in a frown. “You attacked me because of Purple Head?!”

“Epel,” Vil spat again, smacking his fins into the surf to douse you in a mess of seawater. “Not some kid. A pup. Barely of age. And you were going to—”

“You—” you hissed, scrubbing the salt from your eyes with the back of your hand. “He was still attacking us first! He was going after my friend!” you snapped, kicking your own wave back. It splattered along Vil’s hips, barely a sprinkling in comparison to his own tidal waves. “You don’t get to act all noble and protective, and like any of that makes any difference when you all were going to eat us!”

Vil snarled, and the twist of it left a bitter, rotten taste on his tongue. It wasn’t the same. It didn’t matter what you wanted, because you were just some human. Humans were vile, and cruel, and good for nothing but filling their bellies. And this was his family. So what if you claimed you were just standing up for your own brood? It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t.

So he turned back to dive into the shallows with as much force as his aching, crippled fins could manage. Sinking to the bottom of the cove in a huff of bubbles and clawing his way through the muck until he was well and truly hidden in the murky, sandy depths. He smacked his tail against the mess of pebbles and rocks until every creature beneath was scurrying for safety—fleeing outwith the flailing, destructive force of a Siren’s tantrum.

Was that why he was here, then? Bound and gagged on some hellhole of an island because of his own mistakes? Because you’d just been aligning yourself with the moral high ground he’d been riding this whole time? Saving your kin at the cost of your own, fragile skin. Dragged overboard to fight the monsters trying to devour your family whole. Ridiculous. He wasn’t going to let himself feel bad for the slighted prey in a hunt gone wrong. Sharks certainly didn’t regret the fish they chased, nor did the great black-and-white whales that pursued those sharks in turn. This was just the way of things, the circle of life. And he wasn’t going to feel guilty about the tight, protectivelook on your face as you shouted him down about defending your own pod at all.

You were curled up by the same rock the next morning, sleeping soundly against the rough hewn edge. It looked hideously uncomfortable, with your chin tucked up against your chest and your head pressed against half-a-dozen layered, jagged ridges. Vil had always heard that humans were used to luxury—soft, plush blankets made of foreign fabrics and great, stuffed squares of bedding that could put even the finest woven siren nests to shame. And there you were. Scrunched up with a shell clearly embedded in your cheek.

He frowned, fins rippling awkwardly at his sides where the majority were still knotted up in twine.

He needed to leave this cove. As soon as possible. And get away from… all of this.

It generally wasn’t considered the best of ideas to Call openly across the sea. Lone sirens were prime targets for all sorts of nasty scavengers. Human hunters, rival pods, even other rogues looking for a fight. It was dangerous to mark one’s position so openly, let alone in a manner that made it obvious of the less than stellar situation they had no doubt found themselves in. It was also a nasty toll to try and Call so far for so long, on himself and the environment around him. A screeching, horrible thing that he’d only heard a few times in all his years. It was a terrible idea for everyone involved, himself and his fellow castaway most of all. But, well, desperate times, and all that.

Besides, it wasn’t like you’d be able to hear it anyways.

So began his endless song.

He’d sing, and sing, and sing—feeling the ripples of it carrying across the surface of the water and shivering through the air. And then, after he’d worn his throat ragged, he’d pause. Just long enough to swallow around the sting and tilt his head to listen. His fins would flare out against the side of his head, and he’d wait. And then, when there was no answer to his Calling, he’d circle back and do it again. A part of him hoped there would be none. He’d taught his pod better than to do something so foolish—to put themselves at the mercy of all the monsters of the sea. And… if they didn’t answer, perhaps that just meant they were searching for him. Using his own, ridiculous harping to trace him down. And if not that, then at least that they were off somewhere safe. Somewhere far, and hidden.

He swam and sang until he was too exhausted for either. Bound fins a heavy, leaden weight at his hips and head barely cresting above the water.

When the sun set over the horizon, Vil let himself roll in alongside the surf to rest in the sand, boneless and sore. His eyes slipped shut with the encroaching darkness, too heavy to hold open at all. He hadn’t seen much of you today. Occasionally you’d wander down to the shoreline, head popping up over a cluster of rocks to shoot him a look that he couldn’t quite decipher, but for the most part you’d stayed hidden away. Out of his hair, at least. Perhaps you’d finally learned what was good for you, and that keeping as far away from the beast lurking in the shallows was the only way you’d be getting out of this alive.

And then his eyes were snapping open to a field of stars overhead and the moon hanging fat and low in the sky like a fruit ripe for the plucking.

And there you were, hovering over him with that laughably small knife of yours.

Carefully and gently working the rope away from his tattered fins.

Your fingers were delicate, precise. Every time those woven fibers tugged in a way that could even begin to hurt, you were softening your touch and muttering reassurances under your breath. He wondered if you realized you were doing that at all—chattering quiet, rambling nonsense like a nervous tick. ‘Ack, don’t twitch so much, it’s just going to cut deeper,’ and ‘sorry! Sorry! I didn’t think that would move like that! Just—just stay still and it will all be done way faster and then you can swim off, and—’ You were exceptionally careful over the areas of rough, beaten scales along the dip of his tail, wincing in sympathy at the raw, raw skin there. The blade never strayed anywhere it wasn’t needed, and you never touched any part of him that wasn’t in an effort to work another tangle of knots free.

Vil kept himself perfectly still and his breaths even and deep. He watched you through the low, golden dip of his lashes, eyes tracking your fluttering hands and quiet mumblings.

The last of the rope fell away with a wet, heavy plap in the sand and when you sighed there was a smile in your voice.

“There,” you muttered, soft. “Now he can swim home again.”

He froze, startled, and something dropped low and tight in his gut.

Because humans were cruel. Humans were food. Humans were nothing more than vermin crawling over the surface of his ocean in their hunkering, wooden vessels and finless feet. They didn’t deserve sympathy, or anything of that ilk. And—

Your gaze met his and the spark of horrified realization didn’t even manage to settle properly in your wide, wide eyes before he had you pinned in the sand.

It was easy—far too easy. Compared to him you were so small, so fragile. No heavy, bulk of muscle and scales to help keep you alive and fighting. Just fragile limbs and lungs that were good for nothing. He dug his claws into your shoulders and felt the warm prick of blood curl up beneath his talons—could see you wince with the first pinch of acrid poison sharpening the wound. He was going to rip you apart, just like he’d said he would. Even if you hadn’t been able to hear him, he’d show you. Because humans were vile, and no matter what you’d claimed, you didn’t deserve anything better than an end beneath the points of his fangs. Fuel for the journey back to his pod and nothing more.

‘There. Now he can swim home again.’

He reeled back, nose scrunching and teeth grinding in his jaw.

You were still beneath him, blinking up in shock but not fighting. Like being flipped onto your back had been startling out of principle, but not unexpected. Like the idea of dying at his claws was just something you’d been expecting from the get-go.

And yet—

‘Sorry! Sorry!’ you’d been rattling. ‘Ah, if you squirm it’s just going to hurt, you stupid, overgrown fish—'

Vil reared back with a snarl that had goosebumps racing all along your arms, and then he was diving back into the shallows—swiping the tip of his fins against your nose as he went in a sharp crack that he hoped would have you yelping and stumbling away from the ocean’s edge.

He paced along the edges of the bay, newly freed fins slowly uncurling in the lull of the tide. And he felt free. Sore, certainly, and aching in ways he never had before, but free.

When he popped his head back out of the water, you were sprawled out in the sand like a dying starfish, absolutely out of your mind and babbling nonsense about ‘captains’ and ‘collars’ under your breath.

‘Good,’ he harumphed, diving back into the shallows to twirl along his unbound tail. ‘Maybe that would teach you to stay out of the water.’

[TAG LIST - CLOSED]

@marvelous-maxi, @ilikefanfics4, @jackalope08, @crocwork-clockodile, @cosmicobubisi, @buttplugs-stuff, @pomefleur, @decemebercircus, @ailynyan, @genzombie, @meliade-ot, @sunlightocean, @theofficialantitherapist, @hermiona18, @sailorenthusiast, @fantasy-dating-sim-trash, @thefiasco-onyourblock, @insideous-beez, @its-clockwork-princess

@novaloptr, @imlost-sendhelp, @matcha-berry @preciosayorgullosa @whoretaglia, @kookygirlwholikescookiesandcoke, @nanauedorian, @trixeraptops, @voxnipop, @starkling25, @thedum1, @horcrux-alchemist, @sleepykitty21, @apathicace, @instantregret101, @nekanecorvus, @looney-mori, @re-ducing, @my2phetaliaheadcanons, @naughtybodypillow, @rendy-a, @carmen-404, @candy284, @thealiennamedterry, @their-name-is-fake, @huetolog, @glacticrose, @seraphinariddle, @rabioa, @sn00zl4x, @dreasimping, @jeidoreech, @ai-dev, @galaxyshine24-7, @fatally-incorrect, @juulranch, @camrastuff, @nocteetdie, @stargaryengirl, @warmsmilesandhugs, @01paige01

#twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #Vil Schoenheit x Reader #Vil x Reader #vil schoenheit #Mermay #Monster Mayhem #My Writing #vil shoenheit #Siren!Vil #Mermaid!Vil #Fantasy AU #Monster Mayhem Vil Part 1.5 #Vil's POV

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bogleech · 6 days ago

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I am thinking once again about plausible speculative mammals that would weaponize their parasites, and in my mind, one of them would live in North America alongside skunks and porcupines, completing a long overdue trifecta of funny woodland critter with a deeply unpleasant defensive strategy. CLOCKWISE: 1) A very large rodent that has its own alarmingly large fleas, like the real life fleas of mountain beavers. Most of its body is hairless with thick, wrinkled skin that discourages flea activity, so they're left with no choice but to concentrate in its big, bushy tail. A high concentration of blood vessels in the tail keep the fleas fed, and a low concentration of nerves keep them from being too irritating. When this animal gets upset it curls the tail over itself, spreading its fur so wide that the fleas feel exposed. Parting the fur of a wild animal is incidentally a surefire way to get a bunch of fleas jumping ship to you and immediately biting you. Now look at this mountain beaver flea next to a more normal size flea and imagine the pain:

2) A big ground-dwelling cousin of the silky anteater. A combination of long, course, tightly interwoven hairs and a thick underlying layer of fluff are impenetrable to most pests, but a bald patch of thick leathery skin on its back is an ideal attachment point for its specialized ticks, kind of like right whale callosities and whale lice. The anteater can sweat a thick, suffocating grease from this area that forces ticks to let go and scatter in search of another attachment point (LIKE YOU!!!! Leave wildlife alone!!!). Maybe It has pouchlike hairless underarms to serve as refuges for even more ticks, or ticks in their juvenile stage? If they co-evolved closely enough, the ticks could have developed an instinct to migrate up to the back only with their final molt. Maybe they're even as neurotoxic (to other animals) as Australia's paralysis tick? Maybe the ticks are also brightly colored, so predators can tell at a glance to stay away. 3) A desman-like animal, but maybe it's a marsupial or even a monotreme? I feel this one would have an unconventional symbiote; like how beavers have the only fur-dwelling beetles, sloths have their own moths and hairless bats have their own skin-dwelling earwigs. None of those examples, however, are parasites! As far as we know, all three of those insects just chill on those animals and possibly clean them. So what if this one had fur dwelling blister beetles? Blister beetles are a huge diverse group of beetles whose defensive secretions can severely burn skin, and accidentally ingesting a blister beetle can be deadly to even large mammals like horses. This guy's matted wool would be thick enough near the skin to shield it from its own insects, keeping them in the matted outer fluff, where they would maybe feed on whatever sustains beaver beetles (we actually aren't 100% sure! We just know it isn't blood!). If you make this thingy angry, it curls up like a pangolin, and anything that keeps messing around with the big hairball is probably going to keep pissing off, damaging or accidentally eating the worst beetles to ever do anything of those things to.

I also want to say I didn't think of names, but if one or all of these existed I wouldn't want them to get names like "tickbacked antsloth" or anything like that. They'd deserve their own original words like squirrel or fox or bear. But I think it should sound as nasty as they are to mess with. Like a vlykus or a thobb or a snentch. Probably any of these could be a snentch maybe. Nobody tell me if that's already an urbandictionary word for something worse, let me have snentch.

#animals #biology #art #nature #specevo #speculative evolution #sketches

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toxycodone · 5 months ago

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The way i need kabru to teach me the anatomy of the human body by using himself as a model and he’s explaining how all the vital points are laid out but he’s struggling because my hands are dipping a little too low below his belt and squeezing his neck a bit too firmly

vital points (kabru of utaya x reader)

wc. 1.5k

cw. romantic/sexual tension, nothing explicit

No one in Kabru's party is a particularly skilled dungeon crawler. Despite all efforts it seems his party is always taken out before they can do any true exploring of the dungeon's secrets.

Therefore, being the excellent leader that he is, Kabru has decided to take it upon himself to give out combat lessons. And it's only logical he starts with you first. Mickbell has his own specialties--poison darts and all. Kabru's not sure if he'd even be interested in lessons. And even if he was, would he even pay attention? It's probably not worth the trouble. Kuro is well, Kuro. What part of that demihuman's body isn't a weapon? His sharp senses make him one of, if not the most well-equipped members of his team. It's the main reason Kabru keeps a demi-human, one partly monster, like him around. Aside from the fact he's a package deal with the half-foot. Kabru's sure Kuro could make it throigh the dungeon on his own.

Daya is the second best. Strong. Capable. A weapons expert. She can take a hit and throw it back with ease. Rin and Holm are the magic users. Combat would likely be wasted on them. Rin's frail, but she already has similar knowledge to Kabru as she grew up with the same foster mom. And Holm...likely wouldn't agree to lessons. He's maintained a commitment to do no harm to others unless absolutely necessary. Kabru's not going to try to convince him to learn his way around a weapon and how to maim unless it's completely critical.

However. That leaves you.

You're different. Not entirely useless, but not entirely skilled on the other hand. Kabru's still trying to figure you out. Quite the enigma you are to him. He's come to the conclusion you're a jack-of-all-trades type of figure. For now, at least. You don't exactly take away from the party. But you're not hindering their descent, either. It's intriguing from an anthropological standpoint, yet infuriating from his stance as leader of his party.

But again, he wonders what skills you do possess, exactly. Everyone has their specialties, be it what it may. He wonders if combat might be something he can help you succeed--no, excel--in. He'll bring out the best in you via this method, and come to learn more about you in the process. Two birds with one stone. In the back of Kabru's mind, his own desire rears its head. The desire to be close to you. He's not exactly sure why or where this desire stems from. However...it can be satiated via a combat lesson. Three birds, he muses. You pique his interest in a variety of ways.

When it first comes to combat, jumping right in is never ideal. The first means of success comes from mapping out vital points. The human anatomy is a good start. Dungeons are full of demi-human and human adversaries alike. It's important to know them for one to defend themselves, unarmed or not. And these vitals seem to remain uniform among all creatures.

Head. Neck. Abdomen. Groin.

The four major sensitive groups one should know. He's starting small for now. Too much information could be overwhelming. It wouldn't be worth to teach you so much at once that

You're in front of him now, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Not in a literal sense. A metaphorical one. Well, your eyes are bright. He's always liked them. Not that it matters. Why is he thinking of this?

Kabru shakes his head a little, trying to steady his thoughts. Back to business.

"The first lesson in defense is understanding anatomy." Kabru muses, looking through his notes. There's no real time to fetch a book at this point. Or a model. Kabru's not necessarily gifted at art either. Not that a simple drawing would do.

He can serve in its place, as an example. A physical specimen would be the most insightful. You're probably a hands on learner, he decides. It's definitely not as an excuse to have you close to him. Definitely not. Not that he's entirely against that, though.

"Starting with the head. There's plenty of areas you can exploit there," Kabru points to his eyes. You follow suit. They're such a striking blue. Hypnotic. Mesmerizing.

"Eyes are the easiest to access. They're the first thing humans notice. You can predict someone's movements by figuring out where they're looking towards. It'll likely show you where they intend to attack." Kabru leans forward absentmindedly. "They're also sensitive. Even a simple move can distract or blind an opponent. Don't be afraid to strike there. Even though Mickbell might tease you for fighting dirty. All's fair in dungeon combat."

You chuckle and agree. Kabru's pleased his attempt at humor landed. It seems to lighten the air around you two.

"Next, the neck. There's two main points here you want to recognize." Kabru takes your hand, offering a reassuring smile as he does so, then presses it to the underside of his neck. They're a little cold, you note. And almost dainty. His hands aren't particularly calloused. He must take good care of them.

He guides your index finger to the skin on the outside of his neck. His skin carries a hint of heat to it.

"This is where the external jugular is located. It's one of the most important veins in the body. It carries blood to the head and neck area. Just a simple cut can slice through it. A simple turn of the head is enough to expose it."

He moves your hand more inward, now pressing slightly into the divot close to his trachea. His chest rises slowly, then falls. There's a faint beating under the skin now. Kabru's pulse.

"The internal jugular is here. If you can land a hit here, do it. You'll have to go deep and make sure you slice clean through the skin. It can disable a foe in seconds."

You try to keep your mind on the lesson. But his skin is remarkably soft. And smooth. You're close enough now to count his stubble. Well, you would if there was any to count. How does Kabru manage to keep himself so well groomed on dungeon excursions. Maybe you could count those thick, lovely eyelashes inste--

A simple call of your name breaks your thoughts. Not only were you not paying attention, but your fingerpads dig slightly into his skin. You struggle to find an explanation for your absentmindedness, then decide to pin it on you being hyperfocused.

Kabru, ever so forgiving, decides to move on without further question. Internally, you thank him for preserving your dignity. What's left of it. You're almost certain he's caught onto the fact your no longer solely doing this for the sake of combat knowledge.

"The abdomen hosts a majority of the body's necessary organs. The lung's can be pierced easily through the ribcage." Deft fingers lead you across the expanse of his chest. You're a bit shocked. Without his armor, Kabru's a lot smaller. Being revived time and time again has left its mark on his body. There's still power to him though. His muscle isn't all gone. You can surmise your leader has quite the lithe build.

Kabru continues to go on, despite you not listening. He likes to talk about anatomy, for one. But he's also trying to hide his own amusement at your reaction to touching him. You're admiring him in your own way. Which means you may harbor similar feelings towards him that he has towards you. Interesting. He takes note of this as your hands are guided lower.

Stomach. Liver. Kidneys.

And last is the groin.

Kabru's puzzled. He didn't really consider how this would play out in his hands-on anatomy lesson. Desire clouded his mind earlier, but now that he can peek through it...the realization of the situation sets in. How should he proceed? He can tell by your reactions you're fascinated by the lesson at the least. Kabru's sure you need this lesson. The groin is probably the most effective place to punch, kick, or slice in a pinch. As inappropriate as it is, in general and a workplace sense, he still wants you to keep touching him.

His hands leave yours. He's leaving it up to you, now. Whether you choose to continue or not will tell him what he wants to know--if he's been going too far or not.

"The groin is the last area you should become familiar with. I'm sure you're aware, but it's particularly sensitive." Kabru's not sure whether to look at you or your hands. He goes for the latter when your fingers trail over his belt, threatening to move towards the linen of his pants below.

"The genital area, more specifically. No matter the sex. A swift punch, kick. Even just grasping it. You can get an advantage in combat. Either as a distraction, or...."

Your fingers keep going lower. He's sure you aren't paying attention, now far too invested in your personal lesson on anatomy. There's a slight bulge in his pants. It's stiffens when you ghost over it.

Kabru's breath stifles. He swallows his spit like it's cement.

"A-and that's the gist of it."

Kabru stutters for the first time ever, you think. Your curious hands flee his body as a result, now returning to your sides. That was...exhilirating. So simple, yet...you can tell the two of you are craving more.

"Uh," You're first to break the awkward tension. "Thank you, Kabru. For the lesson. It was very informative." A certain tone lingers on the last word. Kabru can practically see the air quotations around it. His dark skin deepens with color. For once in your span of knowing him, Kabru's eyes don't tear into you.

"Right. It's my duty as your leader, after all. Thank you for listening. We can go back to the others now."

Kabru is known for his penchant for understanding others. Almost being able to predict their next moves with ease. However, your next move is wildly unpredictable, tossing out everything he once assumed about your attitude and demeanor.

You ask when the next lesson is. You'd like to study anatomy-perhaps his anatomy, more thoroughly.

And what he also doesn't expect is his eagerness to respond. The next lesson can't come soon enough.

#kabru of utaya #kabru x reader #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi x reader #delicious in dungeon

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crystallinestars · 6 months ago

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How They React to Your Death Part 2

I am back with more Genshin angst. Somehow, I feel like this part isn't as sad as the previous one, but it might just be author's bias.

Part 1 can be found here.

Characters: Gorou, Baizhu, Zhongli, Diluc, and Tighnari

WARNING:

Reader has death descriptions. Some are more graphic than others, but I don't get into the nitty gritty details

🐕 Gorou

Gorou had always harbored reservations about your participation on the battlefield. He had taught you how to fight upon your request and having fought many battles side-by-side, Gorou knew you were a capable fighter. But despite this, a part of him always worried about your safety. He couldn’t help it; he loved you too much to risk losing you.

He tried to keep you safe by suggesting you stay behind in Watatsumi and help Kokomi with strategizing, but this resulted in arguments between you. His ears flattened and his tail sagged like a scolded dog’s when you said you wanted to protect Watatsumi and its people since they were your home. Plus, you didn’t want to stay behind and anxiously wait for news from him just to know if he was still alive. Gorou had no comebacks to your points and could only sigh in resignation and apologize.

When the Watatsumi troops joined another battle against the Shogunate’s forces, Gorou trusted you to handle yourself. He had to believe you could because he couldn’t always protect you amid the chaotic battlefield. However, he forgot that there was more than just your life he needed to worry about. His own was at equal risk.

While fending off several opponents, Gorou didn’t notice an enemy sneaking up behind him until it was too late. Turning around, Gorou found himself with no time to react as the Shogunate soldier thrust his spear forward, prepared to impale the Watatsumi General through the chest. Gorou heard you shout his name, and then suddenly you appeared in front of him, intercepting the lethal blow. The strained little gasp of pain you let out as the weapon tore into your flesh ingrained itself into Gorou’s memory. He remained frozen in place, eyes wide with horror and disbelief as he watched you collapse to the ground.

Unfortunately, the enemy soldier gave him no time to come to your aid. Having retracted his spear, he aimed it once more at Gorou. Seized by panic, Gorou made quick work of the Shogunate scum before falling to his knees beside your figure.

The wound in your chest looked deep, as evident by the copious amounts of blood that seeped out from under your armor. He knew the situation was bad and that you might not even make it, but he tried to reassure you that he’d get you to a medic and you’d be fine. Despite his attempt to stay calm, internally he was panicking. Your eyes already looked unfocused, as if you couldn’t perceive the world around you. Gorou tore off the fabric of his pants and tried to bandage your wound to stave off the bleeding, but paused when you reached a hand up to touch his cheek. Your fingers were icy cold.

“Go…rou,” you croaked, your voice almost inaudible over the sounds of screaming and clashing metal of the ongoing war. Then, your hand fell away from his face, and you went still, your gaze hollow. Gorou called your name in a wavering voice. He repeated it several times and grasped onto your shoulders, begging you to respond to him, to please give him a sign that you were still with him.

You remained unresponsive.

Despair squeezed his heart like a suffocating vice, but he could not spare time to grieve for your passing. The battle was not over, and the Shogunate soldiers closed in on him once more. Reluctantly, he left your body where it was, and buried his anguish beneath a layer of anger and a desire for revenge.

That day, Gorou felled more enemies than he’d ever defeated in previous battles. He was ferocious, almost beastly in the way he slayed his opponents with a bow, teeth, and claws. It was a rookie mistake to let his anger blind him in his quest for vengeance, but Gorou couldn’t control the urge. He could either be a slave to his anger or let his sadness consume him to the point where he had no fight left in him. So, he fought.

Despite the losses Watatsumi suffered during the fight, Gorou’s army managed to win and push back the Shogunate forces. Once the fighting was over and the injured were rushed back to camp, Gorou made his way back to where your body lay in the blood-soaked ground amid the victorious cheers of his remaining men.

He knelt beside you and hugged your cold and stiff corpse in his arms tightly. He didn’t say a word, only closed his eyes and gritted his teeth as his shoulders shook in an attempt not to cry. There was a familiar stinging in his nose, and his vision blurred, but he refrained from crying. He couldn’t return to his men while looking like a weeping mess, because seeing their ever-confident and reliable General crying would shatter the soaring morale of their victory. But if anyone happened to look in Gorou’s direction, they’d see his hunched-over figure cradling you to his chest, while his ears drooped and his shoulders shook.

The days that followed were a blur. Gorou’s army returned to Watatsumi to recuperate and brief Kokomi on the results of the battle. Gorou was heralded as a hero for the fierce way he fought and brought victory for their cause, but the Watatsumi General couldn’t bring himself to feel happy. He tried to put on a smile and congratulate his men for helping to win the battle, made speeches to keep morale up, and oversaw the training of future soldiers. Life kept him busy, but there was a distinct hollowness to it now that you were gone. Before, he would take breaks from training to eat lunch or dinner with you, take walks by the beautiful beaches of Watatsumi, or hide away in your shared home and let you brush his tail much to his delight. Now… there was only an empty void.

When night fell and Gorou found himself lying alone in bed, he would surround himself with articles of your clothing that still carried your scent, and cry. When there was no one to see him fall apart, he would break down and cry hard while whimpering your name until sleep claimed him.

These crying fits only stopped when Kokomi approached him one day. She still looked composed and refined as always, but Gorou could see the sadness in her eyes that had become more prominent ever since she learned about your death. You were her dear friend, after all, and it pained her to lose you. She handed him a letter and explained that it was something you wanted her to give to Gorou in the event you perished in battle.

When Gorou fished out the letter and read the first few sentences, tears welled up in his eyes. The way you wrote to him was as if you were right there, speaking directly to him. He could almost hear your voice as you apologized for leaving him so early, but you were always prepared to give your life to him, Kokomi, and all of Watatsumi because you loved them so much. You told him to not let his grief consume him because you wanted him to enjoy the life you fought so hard to protect. Above all, you would be happiest if Watatsumi remained safe under his and Kokomi’s guidance.

It took Gorou several tries to read the letter since the tears blurred his vision, but once he calmed down, he found that the anguish in his heart lessened, if only a little. It would be a long road to come to terms with your death and not being able to enjoy life with you anymore, but for your sake, he will try. And maybe one day, once his own time comes, Gorou will tell you all about how Watatsumi overcame the war with the Shogunate and flourished in the following years, just as you hoped.

🐍 Baizhu

Baizhu is Liyue’s best doctor. He boasted a hefty record of healing patients with even the most obscure and difficult-to-treat illnesses, giving hope to the sick that they still had a chance to lead normal and healthy lives. But for all his amazing healing abilities, there were illnesses that even Baizhu could not cure. The day you died served as a stark reminder of his limitations.

You’ve been ill with a rare and mysterious illness ever since you were little. You had difficulties breathing, often coming down with severe coughs, and your body was weaker than normal, so you couldn’t participate in physical activities with other children. When the illness got particularly bad, you were left bedridden due to how weakened it made you. Worst of all, no cure for it existed. No matter how many doctors looked at you, nobody could figure out what caused your illness.

When you grew up, your condition worsened, but you had a shred of hope. Your parents heard about the amazing healing abilities of a doctor in Liyue, and your family traveled all the way to the Harbor in the hopes that Baizhu could cure you. To his chagrin and your disappointment, he could not. Even Changsheng’s powers couldn’t transfer your illness to him. Whatever disease you possessed was a result of your genetic composition, which made it all the more difficult to treat. The best he could do was concoct a medicine that staved off your symptoms, but it was by no means a cure.

Since then, you frequently came to Bubu Pharmacy to get medicine. Against all odds, you had become close to the doctor during your many visits and eventually became his lover.

Baizhu did all he could to search for a cure, not only because you were his patient, but also because he genuinely loved you and didn’t want to watch you suffer. However, despite the many late nights he spent researching and mixing various medicines, nothing helped you long-term. The best he could do was curb your symptoms for a time before you became resistant to the medicine and felt worse again.

The more time passed, the worse your body deteriorated. At first, you struggled to do any strenuous activities, so you resigned yourself to walking and not lifting anything heavy. Then walking became difficult, so Baizhu took the time to come visit you at home and give you new medicines to try in the hopes of getting you back on your feet. You would always smile and thank him, saying that he was better off focusing on his other patients, but Baizhu hated it when you said that. It sounded like you had given up on getting better. Even if you doubted you would live for very long, he promised he would find a way to cure you.

The doctor genuinely believed he could help you. It is a doctor’s job to heal the sick and save lives. No matter how impossible the task seemed, he believed there was a cure for your illness somewhere out there, it just needed to be discovered. But before he knew it, your condition got worse to the point that you coughed up blood and became bedridden, barely able to lift a spoon to feed yourself.

Baizhu experienced a rare panic, and spent all of his free time at your bedside, tending to you and giving you various medicines in the hopes of finding something that stuck. As the days passed and you continued to worsen, Baizhu still refused to give up. You had to get better eventually. You had to. Even as your breathing became weak and you could barely hold your eyes open or speak due to your feeble state, Baizhu refused to face the reality of your impending death.

Utilizing all the medicinal supplies and his knowledge, Baizhu continued to try and treat you. When that didn’t work, he tried to split the burden of your suffering by transferring some of the illness to himself using Changsheng. He would not—could not—give up. Even when your hand went limp in his, even when your breathing stilled and your pulse flatlined, even when Changsheng pleaded with him to stop, Baizhu didn’t pause in his desperate attempts to get you to open your eyes and smile at him again. Not until all his medical supplies were depleted and your body had grown cold.

He still refused to accept your death and his failure. If traditional medicine and Changsheng can’t help, what if a higher power intervened? What if you became a living corpse like Qiqi? Perhaps with the blessing of an adeptus, you could be brought back to life and continue to live together with him like before.

Hearing his deluded mumbling, Changsheng had to snap Baizhu out of his spiraling thoughts by reminding him that Qiqi’s case was special because she was still alive when she was granted an adeptus’s blessing. Her words cut him like a knife, for as much as Baizhu didn’t want to lose even this little shred of hope, he knew Changsheng was right. There truly is nothing that could bring you back.

At that point, Baizhu had to face reality. You were gone. Your illness ended up claiming your life despite his efforts.

That night was a rare time when Changsheng saw Baizhu weep. The doctor silently cried as he cradled your lifeless body in his arms, and apologized over and over for being unable to save you. He failed you both as a doctor and as your beloved, and the guilt ate him up inside.

Despite how firmly Baizhu believed that he could save everyone in need of his aid, deep down he knew it was improbable. Some injuries and illnesses were beyond saving. But out of all the people he couldn’t save, why did one of them have to be you?

Ever since the night of your passing, Baizhu slept poorly, plagued by guilt and self-loathing for not being the perfect doctor. The one person he wanted to save most, to spend the rest of his life with, was gone all because he wasn’t skilled enough.

Back when you were alive, he promised to create the elixir of immortality and get you to be the first to try it. He dreamed about a happy future where you, Changsheng, himself, and everyone else could all lead happy, healthy lives. But he was too late, and that promise was left broken, just like his promise to marry you one day.

Despite the tragedy, Baizhu tried to move on. His patients needed him. There were still so many lives he needed to save, so he couldn’t give up now. He tried to smile through the pain and work as usual, but even Qiqi could see how sad his smiles were. He is filled with longing whenever he thinks of you, as well as the ever-present guilt that never faded no matter how many years passed. Despite how painful it was for Baizhu to remember you, he held those memories dear to his heart. As short as your relationship had been, it was a truly special connection he knew he would never have with anyone else.

In the distant future, Baizhu will dedicate years of his life to researching your illness and developing a cure. Though the medicine won’t bring you back to him, he finds a bit of solace in knowing that no one else will have to lose their loved one to the disease the way he did.

🔶 Zhongli

Zhongli always knew you would die before him. You were a human, after all. Your lifespan was but a blink of an eye for his 6000-year-old existence.

When you expressed a desire to be in a long-term romantic relationship with him, Zhongli made it very clear that he was an ancient supernatural being who had lived thousands of years, and would live thousands more even after you die because his lifespan was unlike yours. He wondered if this would discourage you from pursuing him, but it did not. After carefully weighing the facts, you remained steadfast in your resolve to build a future with him, and he couldn’t help but admire your determination.

The decades you spent together were some of the happiest Zhongli ever had. You gifted him new memories and experiences of the simple, relaxed life he always wanted ever since he stepped down from his position as Liyue’s Archon. Drinking tea at the teahouse while chatting about his extensive knowledge on various topics, participating in festivals, hosting small gatherings to meet his adepti friends, and getting married were just some of the things you did together. Life was peaceful yet eventful, and Zhongli felt a sense of fulfillment from it. Being able to enjoy the fruits of his thousands of years’ worth of labor felt rewarding, and doubly so since he got to enjoy it with someone he loved.

As the years passed by, Zhongli noticed how your skin gradually developed wrinkles, and your hair gained new white strands. He knew you were getting older, while he still retained that ever-youthful appearance of a handsome young man. To avoid suspicion from the public, but most of all, to appease any insecurity you might have about growing old, Zhongli manipulated his appearance to age together with you. Each year, he added more wrinkles to his skin and grayness to his hair to match the speed of your own aging.

You were surprised when you first noticed these changes, but Zhongli could tell you appreciated his efforts. You had appeared downtrodden about growing older, while he still looked the same as the day you first met him. Now, you seemed more at ease, though he could still catch glimpses of sadness in your eyes. After all, the fact he had to manually age his appearance was a constant reminder that he was not human and that you would have to leave him one day.

As you grew older still and your body developed aches and pains that usually came with old age, Zhongli helped you through the difficulties. He did the more strenuous work around the house, supported you during walks, helped you read text you could no longer see clearly, and fetched your medicine from Bubu Pharmacy to keep your ailments at bay.

Despite the differences that came with you growing old, Zhongli never loved you any less. Everything about him was as constant as the bedrock of Liyue itself, and his love for you never wavered. Even when your beautiful, youthful looks faded, and he had to take care of your frail body, he still loved you just as much as when you first became a couple, if not more. He loved the person you were on the inside more than what you looked like on the outside, and in his eyes, your beauty never faded.

However, it still pained Zhongli to see your lovely hair grow white, and your body weak. It meant that death would come for you soon, and you would have to part ways. He knew it was inevitable, but a part of him silently pleaded ‘Not yet. Don’t go just yet, please stay a little longer.’

As you reached your late 80s, your health grew worse to the point you spent most of your time at home. Both you and Zhongli could tell that your time would come any day now, but you said that you were prepared. You got to live a long, happy life and had no major regrets, so death didn’t scare you. Rather, you have grown to accept it.

Zhongli would stay up late at night in bed with you to watch your sleeping face, trying to ingrain the memory of your features and of being together into his mind, because he knew each night might be the last.

One night, Zhongli woke up to the sensation of your life force growing faint, until it completely disappeared. He didn’t need to check your pulse to know you had passed away since he felt it. Your spirit was gone. His heart sank at the realization that this was it. He would no longer get to hear your voice, see your reactions to his stories and affections, or make new memories with you.

Zhongli had lost countless friends and companions throughout the Archon War. He was used to death and saying goodbye, but each time was no easier than the last. The weight of loss settled heavily on him because, despite the years he spent mentally and emotionally preparing for your death, it was still difficult to sit there beside your lifeless body and accept the fact you were gone. There were still so many things he wanted to experience with you. It was truly unfortunate that your human lifespan was so painfully short.

Zhongli took your limp hand in his and held it for a while as his mind went through your shared memories together. In his memories, you were vibrant and lively, the opposite of how lifeless you appeared now. With the part of you he loved most gone, all that remained was a body of flesh that appeared almost like a stranger. It made him miss you, but also helped in coming to terms with your passing.

He mourned for you throughout the night, up until the sun rose above the horizon.

Zhongli took part in arranging your funeral. He carefully supervised every step of the process to ensure your funeral was perfect, and that you were given the proper respect in your journey to the afterlife. Once you were laid to rest, he found himself wandering around aimlessly most days. He walked along the same paths the two of you used to take strolls on, visited your favorite locations in Liyue Harbor, and frequently brought your favorite food as an offering to your grave.

At the teahouse, Zhongli sat at the same table where you always had your dates and stared at the empty seat where you used to sit. He could picture with perfect clarity how you used to sit in that same chair and give him your undivided attention when he recounted tales of times past, and he always loved it when you did. Now, he could only stare off into the distance while reminiscing about the good times he shared with you. Though Zhongli was saddened he couldn’t make more memories with you, the ones he did have made him grateful that you had been a part of his life.

🦉 Diluc

Diluc met you shortly after you arrived in Mondstadt with nothing but a satchel of mora and the clothes on your back. You said you came to the nation of freedom in the hopes of starting a new life but never disclosed any details about your past. Though he was curious about the life you led prior, Diluc learned to let it go. After all, Mondstadt was home to many people with mysterious backgrounds and origins, so what’s one more?

During the months you spent together, you had both fallen in love with each other and began a courtship. Diluc knew with certainty that he wanted to marry you, so one fateful night, he got down on one knee before you and presented a golden ring topped with a piece of garnet. You said yes, and Diluc felt the happiest that night than he had in a long time, not since his father’s passing several years ago. Now, he was looking forward to having a family again.

After Diluc lost his father, Adelinde and Elzer were saddened by the drastic change in their Young Master. Diluc used to be so optimistic and passionate, brimming with the desire to become a knight and help people. After Crepus’s death, he had become closed off and aloof, becoming bitter at the corruption running rampant within the Knights of Favonius. However, with your arrival at the estate, Diluc seemed to slowly warm up and smile more, and the senior servants couldn’t be happier by the positive change. They hoped that your union would heal their Master’s wounded heart.

Initially, Diluc didn’t plan to host an engagement party, but his butler Elzer convinced him to go through with the Ragnvindr family tradition. With your agreement, Diluc hosted a ball and invited prominent figures in the business world to attend, most of whom he worked with. During the party, he introduced you to his business partners, making idle chatter and receiving congratulations on your engagement. Everything seemed to be going well, albeit a tad boring, until the two of you were approached by an unfamiliar man in a lavish suit.

The man said he was an acquaintance of yours, and sure enough, you seemed to recognize him. However, the way your posture stiffened, and the color drained from your face set Diluc on edge. He wanted to reject the man’s request to speak with you in private, but you interjected and agreed. Diluc didn’t want to leave you alone with someone who made you uncomfortable, but the pointed look you gave him made Diluc hold back his protests. With great reluctance, he let you go.

He was anxious the entire time you were gone, unable to fully focus on the business conversations and propositions he was discussing with some of the guests. To his great relief, you returned safe and sound, albeit with a troubled expression on your face. Diluc made a mental note to ask you about what happened once the ball ended.

The man you spoke with didn’t reappear that night, and the party came to a successful close after plenty of eating, drinking, and dancing.

Later that night, you fell sick. You were vomiting and sweating quite a bit, and at first, Diluc thought you had food poisoning. However, when he noticed you were vomiting blood, panic surged through him. You were poisoned.

He called his servants and asked them to fetch a medic, but your condition continued to deteriorate quickly. In mere minutes, you were unable to stay standing and were gasping for breath, so Diluc laid you down on the bed. Tears streamed down your cheeks while you apologized to him, as if you knew you were going to die and why. As if someone intentionally poisoned you.

Diluc tried asking for more information, but by that point, you could barely breathe, much less get a word out. All you did was futilely gasp for air while gazing at him with eyes full of remorse and fear.

Diluc didn’t want to think about the possibility of you dying because the mere thought opened old wounds that never fully healed. But as he watched you slowly suffocate; it triggered a surge of fear in him. This scenario felt so familiar. It reminded him of how Crepus died. Due to the Fatui’s schemes, his father had disintegrated into nothing in his arms, leaving him and Kaeya alone to pick up the pieces. He couldn’t do anything to save his father then, and it frustrated him that he couldn’t do anything for you now, except sit there in fear and despair. Diluc gently took your hand in his, both for your comfort and his, and you clung to his hands like a vice. Despite Diluc’s empty reassurances that you’ll be alright, that the medic is on his way, you had passed away in front of his eyes with a pained expression on your face. The sight of your last moments made his stomach churn.

As he sat beside your body in the dark room shrouded by night, his thoughts shifted to the reason behind your death. You were poisoned, but why? Did someone do it to try and get to him? He did have many enemies, after all. Then, he remembered the suspicious man that had terrified you so much and couldn’t help but think the secret lay with him. Whatever the case, Diluc swore to get down to the truth of the matter.

He gently removed the engagement ring from your finger and hung it on a chain around his neck to always keep with him as a memento. A reminder of the future he was robbed of with you, and of your life which was taken far too early and cruelly.

News of your poisoning spread to the Knights of Favonius. Jean organized an investigation team to catch the culprit and bring them to justice, but Diluc knew it would take them too long. Even after the Knights had improved their ethics with Varka, Jean, and Kaeya at the helm, Diluc was still reluctant to leave everything to them. He insisted on investigating the matter himself. After many weeks of searching for clues, and even partnering up with Kaeya, Diluc managed to find the truth behind your murder. It infuriated him. You were once a Fatuus but had defected from the organization and ran away to Mondstadt to start a new life. You wanted a life where you were free to live the way you wanted, instead of being forced to commit atrocities in the name of the Tsaritsa. But nobody leaves the Fatui alive. Your superiors had found you and sent a Fatuus to infiltrate the ball. After you resisted their attempts to coerce you to return, sometime during the party they spiked your drinking glass with poison, which was how you perished. You were killed for wanting to live your life for yourself.

The injustice behind your death pushed Diluc on a quest for revenge. He swore upon the ring hanging from his neck that your murderers would atone for what they did. After delegating the running of the Winery to Elzer, Diluc packed necessities and embarked on a Fatui hunt. Over the next few months, he diligently searched and hunted down every member of the Fatui squad that killed you. He refused to take breaks, searching day and night for the exact location of the perpetrators and planning his revenge. He had tunnel vision that wouldn’t go away until his mission was completed. Diluc successfully slayed every Fatuus involved in your death. None were spared. Once his mission ended, Diluc returned to Mondstadt, but he became colder than before, much to Adelinde and Elzer’s dismay. He was more stoic and aloof than before, rarely smiling or expressing any emotion. He completely closed himself off, not allowing anyone to get close. Diluc had lost too many people he loved and didn’t want to grow attached and experience another potential loss. Sometimes, Adelinde would catch him sitting idly by a window and staring outside with a pensive, almost sad expression while twirling the ring around his neck. Elzer would spot Diluc standing by your and Crepus’s graves in the light of dawn, presumably after returning from another patrol around the city. Diluc would stand there for a while with his head lowered, looking so lonely and defeated, before heading inside the manor.

Diluc would never find someone new to love, of that he was certain. He will continue to wear the engagement ring around his neck up until the day he dies, and when he does, he hopes he will be buried alongside you and his father. If he cannot be with those he loves in life, then maybe he can be with them in death. Until then, he will push on and continue to live, blazing a path of justice to protect the citizens of Mondstadt so that no more victims end up like you and his father.

🍄 Tighnari

When a mother reported her child had gone missing within a withering zone in the Avidya Forest, Tighnari immediately dispatched a search and rescue team.

As a fellow forest ranger, you wanted to come along to help look for the child. Tighnari knew you were fairly capable of handling yourself despite not having a vision, but just to be safe, he paired you up with Collei. After all, it was already dark, and who knew what dangers lurked within the afflicted forest.

Right before you and Collei set out to search your assigned part of the forest, Tighnari told you both to stay safe and vigilant. Never did he think the reassuring smile you gave would be the last time he would see you alive.

He managed to find the missing boy before the withering got to him, and escorted the child back to camp for a checkup. As time passed, the other rangers returned, but you and Collei were nowhere in sight. Just as Tighnari was starting to get worried, Collei rushed over to him, out of breath.

In a panic, she explained that your pair had run into a hilichurl camp within the withering zone, and were chased by hilichurls through the forest. She got separated from you in the dark, and wasn’t able to find you again despite searching for a while.

Tighnari fought to stay calm as he rushed towards the location of the withering zone, and stopped when he saw your figure collapsed on the ground just outside the boundary. His heart dropped at the sight, and he quickly knelt beside you to check your vitals.

You had no pulse.

Tighnari felt like he was dreaming, as if he was watching someone else kneeling beside your body. That this wasn’t real. But as he looked at your glazed eyes which stared off into the distance, never once looking at him, reality set in.

You were dead.

Once he accepted that fact, Tighnari’s heart felt heavy, as if weighed down by an anchor.

You had tried to find your way back to camp, but having spent too much time in the withering zone, and not being a vision holder, you had inevitably succumbed to its effects just as you had gotten out of the zone. A pang of guilt welled within his chest. If he had paired up with you instead, or assigned you a different area to search through, would you have made it out alive? These thoughts looped in his mind and wouldn’t leave Tighnari alone.

When he returned to camp a while later, the rest of the Forest Rangers saw him carrying your body with a grim expression on his face. The fact Tighnari wasn’t asking for immediate medical assistance, and the way his ears drooped low, were all the rest of the Rangers needed to know you had died.

The guilt persisted like a phantom all throughout your funeral, and the days that followed after as he tried to keep it together. Breaking the news to your parents was difficult, but Tighnari forced himself to be the one to tell them. He was prepared for their devastation, and subsequent angry accusations for not protecting you like he promised. For once, he didn’t sass back, but rather quietly accepted their hatred. He believed that they had every right to blame him. After all, Tighnari was the one who was supposed to keep you safe, both as the leader of the Forest Rangers, and as your lover.

Tighnari never thought he would miss you as strongly as he currently did now that you were gone. It was nothing new for you to go days without seeing each other because he sometimes had to go to Sumeru City to give lectures or conduct botany experiments in Pardis Dhyai.

But this time was different. This time, he knew he would never see you again.

Never again will he come home to be greeted with your smile, and he missed the warm feeling that filled his heart back then. He missed your voice, the way you pet his ears and tail, the meals you brought him when he was busy with work, the letters you wrote to him when he was out on a trip… he missed you.

Some nights, he would wake up with tears in his eyes, filled with longing for the happy dreams he had about you. But they will forever remain only dreams, taunting him with a life he can no longer have because you’re not here anymore.

You will never return, and Tighnari was left with a heavy feeling in his chest that refused to completely go away no matter how many years passed. He will always regret sending you out with Collei that day.

He threw himself into his work to distract from the ache in his heart. The thought of someone else dying to the withering like you did scared him, so Tighnari made it his mission to eliminate all the withering zones in the forest. He never wanted something similar to happen to anyone else, and it was the only way he thought he could atone.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #gorou x reader #baizhu x reader #zhongli x reader #diluc x reader #tighnari x reader

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