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luvknow · 4 years

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in another lifetime | lee minho

genre: ceo/iron man!lee minho x secretary!reader | ceo au ; superhero au ; alcohol mention ; blood mention summary: you and your boss were inseparable. no one could understand how you could work ungodly hours for such an inexperienced ceo. but your job was to stick by Mr. Lee for as long as you were getting paid, and that meant being his date to charity balls and helping him turn into the country’s best superhero. wc: 18.9k a/n: rewrite of that one w**jin fic cuz fuck that guy ~! the public has spoken.... lee minho has been chosen as the winner

Secretary was your title, but you liked to think you were more than just that. Perhaps secretary was just an umbrella term for amateur sommelier slash novice multitasker slash the only employee who knew how to drive stick. Whatever your job entailed, you were sure to list all of those tasks in your updated resume when it was time to pass the torch onto some other poor sucker because you would much rather die than be a secretary for life.

It wasn’t like your boss was a total ass, or anything. That was actually the scary part - the fact that your boss was one of the kindest and most attentive people you’ve ever worked for, yet you still hated this job! What made this so horrid was the amount of walking and running your poor feet had to do. And guess what? No sneakers were allowed in the office, so you were left with walking over forty-thousand steps in a day in toe-pinching sole-aching glossy shoes that were half a size too big for your feet because shoes like these always ran out in your size in the store.

“Good morning, Mr. Lee,” you greeted, walking into his private office at 8:00 am on the dot as normal. With tired eyes, he looked up from his stack of blueprints and gave you a warm smile. You don’t know how he does it, but he always managed to welcome your morning visits with a smile that almost made you consider your resignation. “Iced americano, extra shot.”

“You are a blessing,” he praised graciously. One sip of the liquid gold was enough to wake him up right away.

“Long night?”

“Yeah. You know how it took us hours to decide the wall colors for each floor in our building? Imagine doing that all over again, but for a superhero suit prototype.”

“But it’s just a suit this time, not fifty floors.”

“This isn’t just a suit, _____. It’s the suit of a man who’s going to save the world one day! A suit that everyone will lay their eyes on and judge me for my color choices.”

“You sound like a child.”

“An ambitious child, mind you.”

“Did you ultimately decide on a color?”

“Yes, two colors actually. Red and gold.”

“Wow, such a loud and loyal color choice.”

“Is it?” Your handsome boss pouted slightly while scanning his designs. “Seungmin said the same thing. Maybe I should change it -”

“No!” you interrupted for the sake of not wanting to look up Pantone’s thousands of shades of ruby and champagne. “Red and gold are perfect for you.”

Minho’s pouty lips melted into a proud smile. “If you believe so, then I trust you. Come take a look - what do you think of it overall?”

You walked around his ginormous custom-made walnut desk to peer over his shoulder. Minho could smell the familiar gardenia scent you wore for years and it immediately brought comfort to his panicking soul. Somehow your presence always calmed him down, no matter what stressful situation he was in. Maybe that’s why he wanted to have you around 24/7. How selfish of him.

Your couple minutes of silence were so agonizing that his nervous foot-tapping habit he told you about that he thought he got rid of in college broke through, which was your cue to answer.

“I like it. I like it a lot, actually,” you admitted honestly. “I would definitely feel safe if I saw you come to my rescue, although the helmet is a little concerning.”

“Concerning how?”

“Well, it has such a… A, uh… How do I put this politely? A dead expression?”

“‘Dead’ is a polite adjective to you?”

“I mean come on, Mr. Lee, there are two eyes and a flat line for the mouth where the corners curve downwards just slightly and it looks like you gave him little fangs. There’s not much life in the eyes, either.”

“They light up when the suit is on!”

“Maybe I’ll like it more when I see it in person?”

“The helmet is the only thing I’m confident about, so nothing and no one can change my mind,” he said stubbornly.

“I’m sure everyone will love it,” you reassured while smoothing out the stress wrinkles on his indigo shoulder pads. “When do you plan on starting the build?”

“In half an hour.”

“What!?” Minho nearly spit out his espresso at your yelping and the frantic way you sifted through your massive planner and scrolling through your emails on your phone at the same time. Oh, so that’s what he forgot to tell you! He knew something felt off. “B-B-But I didn’t get an email that the shipment arrived!”

“I called the company at five in the morning just as they opened and demanded an expedited shipping of all the materials and they’ll be arriving in half an hour.”

“But did the quality department approve of the materials? Or your design at least?”

“You do know I’m the CEO, right?” Minho smirked teasingly. “That’s business talk for ‘fuck Quality’.”

Minho stood up from his black velvet Chesterfield chair to escape your nagging and briskly walked away towards God-knows-where. Like an obedient, push-over puppy, you trailed closely behind with a light jog and all you could think about was how it was too early for your feet to be aching this badly.

“I don’t like the idea of this,” you said firmly.

“You never do. Loosen up a little, will ya?”

“I will not! I looked the other way when you decided on signing a contract to collaborate with that ugly luxury car brand, I agreed with the proposal of a new smartphone that totally flopped in the end, and I barely allowed the approval for the development of the new branch in Taiwan! All of those ideas are whatever, arbitrary even, but this? This puts you at the front line of danger, Mr. Lee! What if something goes wrong, or the material is compromised? What if these companies take you for a fool for not checking in with the quality department first? What if you’re setting yourself up to be sabotaged, huh?”

Minho pressed the down button on the elevator, ignoring your pleas. Even though all you do is nag and play by the rules, he knew you were only doing so because he didn’t bother to. In the end, you were just looking out for him, and he couldn’t appreciate you more.

His gives you what he thought was a reassuring smile. To you, it looked rather mischievous “Lucky for me that you’ll be there the whole time, right?”’

“What do you mean…?”

“I mean you’ll watch the entire suit being built while you work. Then you’ll see how safe it is. I need someone to double check me, anyways.”

“Mr. Lee, I don’t think I’m qualified for that.”

“Don’t be silly, of course you are!”

Your engineering experience went as far as Physics I and II classes with a teaspoon’s worth in basic circuitry, so if Minho thought that qualified you to double check his work, then you might have to question his PhD degree.

The elevator welcomed you both into its vacant container. The lowest level this elevator could reach with a single button was the basement, but if the right person (or the wrong person) were to dial the buttons in the order of 4-4-1-9, they would be taken nine floors below the basement to the rumored ‘Super Office’ (ten was too much because Minho didn’t like the feel of the heavy pressure and eight was such a silly number).

The steel doors opened right into his Super Office which he designed to be five times larger than his executive office so he had plenty of room for building up new car designs and bringing his super suits to life for both him and his partners. His successful designs that were once worn but are now retired were placed on mannequins and stored inside a tall glass box on display for him to admire.

You walked up to your favorite one, eyes sparkled adoringly at Seungmin’s first Spider-Man suit.

“You always loved the red and blue,” Minho noted behind you. “Still not a fan of the black one?”

“The black one is scary! No one wants a hero dressed in all black, like that color does not exude the feeling of safe.”

“Duly noted for his next suit.”

Beside Seungmin’s old spidey suit was an empty display case you assumed was meant for this final draft of Minho’s Iron Man suit. Surrounding the two glass cases were dozens and dozens of wood and plastic demos that didn’t work out in the end, but Minho didn’t have the heart to take them to the dumpster.

“Looks like the shipment arrived early!” Your mature but easy-going boss jogged up to the piles of wooden crates and packages that were laid out neatly in the center of his work space. Without much patience, he took off his indigo suit jacket, tossed it to the side like it wasn’t worth two thousand dollars (to which you caught before it hit the ground), and took the crowbar on top of the pile to open the cases with ease. Sheets of metals, different tools, and a cool welding and soldering set scattered along the concrete floor. Minho gave you an excited grin that mimicked a child upon opening gifts on Christmas. “Let the building commence!”

There wasn’t room for any argument, so you took a seat at his desk where he normally would sketch the designs and worked off of his desktop with a heavy feeling of defeat. At least watching the process would be cool, right?

Maybe cool wasn’t the right word. Or watching.

For the next three months, from sunrise to sunset, you spent your day nine floors below the surface for almost twelve hours a day being his little helper. From holding pieces of metal in place while he flame torched them together to feeding him take out because his hands were covered in oil, you did it all and God, if Minho didn’t give you a raise or at least some meal tickets to the executive cafeteria, you might just quit on the spot.

“Done.” With a heavy and exhausted sigh, Minho clapped his hands together and marveled at his nearly-finished product. “We’re done!!”

“What about the red and gold paint?”

“I can’t work on this anymore or I’ll implode. I’ll just take this to my car guy and he’ll paint it exactly how I want it.”

“Not really a self-made suit then, is it?” you dared to challenge your boss.

He pointed an accusing finger at you. “Shut your mouth and give me my food.”

You handed a slouching Minho his box of take-out and wooden chopsticks. While you had a perfectly comfortable ottoman he could have sat on right next to you, he remained on the cold concrete, probably too sore and worn out to even stand up, let alone walk to a cushioned seat. Minho was a man with personality and many faces, but his face of satisfactory upon completing projects was when he was the most handsome. For a while, you two just sat in silence, taking in every detail of the flawless iron suit while slurping noodles.

“So,” Minho began nervously. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful, Mr. Lee,” you say immediately.

“You mean it?”

For someone so intelligent and talented, it was a wonder how a man like him could be insecure about any of his creations.

“Absolutely,” you reassured. “Flawless. Is it fully programmed and everything?”

“Yup. I installed the software and artificial intelligence last week.”

“Sounds like the only thing you need to do is take it out for a spin.”

Minho hummed with approval. “... Can you do it for me?”

“What!? No!”

“I really don’t want to do it…”

“With all due respect, suck it up.”

“Isn’t it reasons like this why I hired you?”

“I was hired to be your secretary, not your lab rat.”

“To be fair, the job description was pretty vague.”

“Yeah, I definitely did not expect to be helping you construct a modern Knight in Shining Armor cosplay.” After wiping your mouth clean of all MSG and soy sauce, you tossed your dirty napkin in the trash bin that was a considerable distance away.

Minho followed suit, who was also able to get his napkin in the can. Then you tossed another napkin, and then him, and this went on until you were left to toss your boxes and chopsticks. The real challenge was tossing the plastic wraps of the fortune cookies.

“Whoever loses has to do whatever the other says,” Minho proposed.

Without hesitation, you nodded in agreement. “Fine, but I will not test that thing out if I lose.”

“Deal. Secretaries first.”

You did your best to crumple up and squish out any air that was left in the wrapped before whipping it like you were throwing the first pitch. The wrapper hit the rim of the can and fell to the side. But that’s ok, because there was no way your boss could even come close to -

“WOO!” Minho cheered, getting up from the floor while you were left slumped in the chair filled with defeat. Of course, whatever he wanted, he would get his way. “Man, I am super lucky today.”

“What the hell! Did you wrap it around a stone or something!?”

“Darling, I would never cheat ~”

“There’s no use in arguing. Just lay the consequences on me, boss.”

Minho scooted the ottoman closer - almost a little too close. Then, like a handsome little goldendoodle with his swooshy chocolate hair and sparkling eyes, he gazed up at you pleadingly before offering you your punishment.

Fear and flattery tickled your spine. “Spit it out.”

A grin followed. “You will accompany me to the ball next week.”

“The Children’s Charity Ball? The biggest charity ball of the century? The one where all the white-haired big shots attend with their dates who just barely turned eighteen?”

“The very same.”

“And you want me to be your date.”

“Yes.”

“Seems a bit lazy, doesn’t it?”

“Lazy how!?”

Not wanting him to see you blush, you began cleaning up the mess from the takeout. “Lazy as in why not find a real date? You know, someone you’ll have a good time with.”

“Hey, I always have a good time with you! And I’m doing you a favor if you think about it. If I wanted to bring anyone else, that would mean you’d have to flip through all of my contacts and have you choose the perfect date for me. So unless you want the extra overtime, I’ll expect to see you dressed to the nines?”

“Don’t you want to bring someone more suited for this role? Someone with much more finesse and elegance?” you said as you twirled dirty napkins in the air.

“If I’m being honest, I do not have the time nor do I want to put in the effort into bringing someone so bland.”

“Who says they’re bland? What if I pick out one of your supermodel friends or like a professor, or something?”

“All my supermodel friends like to toke up in bathrooms and what’s a professor going to do? Lecture me to death? _____, please, I am begging you - be my date? You know you and I are going to have a blast, I promise you. We always do when we’re together.”

A moment of silence passed while you shuddered in disgust. You couldn’t believe you were going to say this, but… “So what should I wear?”

“Yes! That’s the spirit! Wear anything besides velvet because that’s my fabric of choice.”

“Can you at least do the picking for me? We should at least match in the slightest.”

Minho let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, fine, I’ll do all the work.”

“You’re a pain in the ass, Mr. Lee.”

“It’s what I do best.”

After cleaning up the mess and a last quick polish on the Iron suit, the two of you took the elevator to the level below the basement where Minho parked his favorite fancy shmancy foreign sports car you couldn’t pronounce. In its shiny and spotless all-white glory sat his coup in his executive parking spot where no other car or person was in sight.

“Quite showy for you, isn’t it?” you accused your normally toned-down boss.

“I had a hunch that today was going to be the day we finished, and low and behold, we did. Soojung the Spyder always brings me good luck,” he patted and praised his prized roadster.

The distance from the office to your apartment was a solid forty-five minutes away by public transportation, right on the edge of being not too far, but not close enough, but by car it was only twenty-five minutes. During your first couple of years with the company, you enjoyed the lonely rides and getting lost with your thoughts, but there were moments you got so lost that you missed your stop a couple too many times and sometimes the winter made waiting outside so unbearable. It wasn’t until you started to clock in tons of overtime that Minho was nice enough to drive you home from then on.

“C’mon, _____, just get in the car,” Minho begged for the twelfth time, holding the passenger door open with one hand and an umbrella with the other. He parked his car illegally right in front of the bus stop that so many other employees used. Why did it matter that you were using it while it was thunderstorming and past 10:00 PM? “The heat is escaping the longer we argue.”

“It’s fine! I don’t live too far away,” you lied. “Please go home, Mr. Lee, your puppy must be worried sick.”

“Hazelnut can wait, but I can’t. As your boss, I order you to get in my car!” Though the statement was serious with his booming voice, his pouty lips made it much less intimidating.

“With all due respect, I have clocked out for the day and I don’t have to listen to you until 7:00 am tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe you’re making me break the law.”

“What do you mean?”

The blinding lights of the bus flashed irregularly, a polite way of telling Minho to get the fuck out of the way. But he didn’t move in the slightest. He patiently waited for you by the passenger door, not moving a muscle and looking like a car model dressed in his long, warm and tan pea coat. The patient and smug look on his face let you know he wasn’t playing around and that he’d dare tell the bus to wait until you got in.

“Mr. Lee, get out of the way!”

“Not until you’re in my car,” he shook his head stubbornly. “The bus is getting closer ~”

Your anxiousness hiked up exponentially when the driver held the horn long and loudly, not looking like they had much patience in them and indicating that they were very, very annoyed. For the sake of not inconveniencing the butt-load of passengers and the driver and securing your job, you hurried into his car, cursing up a storm that rivaled the one outside. A triumphant and smirking Minho followed suit and sped away at a dangerous speed, perhaps breaking a second law that night. For those twenty-five minutes (or maybe it was fifteen with Minho’s driving), the car was silent because your reckless boss focused on cutting every civilian off on the highway and you were too busy covering your eyes in fear.

“You were so dramatic back then,” Minho snickered at the seemingly-harmless memory.

“Me!? You were the one who parked in front of a bus stop and begged me to get in!”

“You were the one who wouldn’t get in the damn car!”

“How does it look to on-lookers that a secretary is getting into her boss’s car!?”

“It’s not like anyone knows our relationship.”

“Oh please, someone like you driving a beautiful shiny car picking up sad ol’ me at the bus stop - of course on-lookers may not know me and my relationship to you, but they definitely know who you are at the very least.”

“I could not give more than zero fucks of what people think.”

“Yes, that much is clear.”

“_____, you can’t always worry about what everyone thinks ~”

You sighed loudly, as if you’d explained this to him a thousand times already. “Worrying is the basis of my entire title, Mr. Lee.”

“And will you drop the ��Mr. Lee’ once and for all? We’re the same age!”

“Same age, but different titles and a massive pay gap. You and I are not equals.”

Minho reached over to mess up your hair. “You’re so formal, it’s so cute!”

“Ah, stop it! You’re swerving!!”

Minho had dropped you off and walked you up to your apartment more times than you can count, but you don’t think you’ll ever get over the embarrassment of your humble abode. Of course you’ve visited his mansion just as many times, since you participated in the designing of it, and him having to see such a sad home in comparison is, well, terrifying each and every time.

“Ok, bye,” you dismissed quickly.

A handsome laugh escaped your handsome boss’s lips. “Still hate having me so close to your home? You know, it’s quite rude you’ve never invited me in and yet you’ve been in mine hundreds of times!”

“My home doesn’t have marble statues or glass refrigerators and I can’t hire you to redesign the interior.”

“You know I don’t care about that stuff.”

“But I do!”

His tongue tisked disappointedly. “What a shame. I thought we were friends.”

“We are, but friends don’t break sensitive boundaries.”

He passively waved you off. “Fine, fine. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Bright and early.”

“Excellent. I have one request.”

It was your turn to pout. What could he possibly want this time? “Already? At least let me sleep peacefully.”

“It’s nothing complicated, I promise! In fact, it’ll save you thirty minutes. Don’t bring me my coffee tomorrow.”

“Don’t? Are you on a caffeine cleanse again? You know how badly that went last time - you barely lasted two days and you fired someone, to which I had to convince you for forty minutes to hire them back.”

“No, not a cleanse. Just come in a bit earlier. Let’s get coffee together.”

“Do you have time for that?” Knowing how packed Minho’s schedule was in the mornings, you wondered his sanity for making time just so the two of you could grab a cup.

“I’ll make time. Actually, you’ll make time. Can you pencil us in for some coffee?”

“U-Uh, yeah!” With nervous and shaky hands, you pulled out your work phone and squeezed in half an hour of coffee time. “Done.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Don’t be reckless driving home.”

“No promises.”

Before going into your apartment complex, you watched Minho wave goodbye before blasting music with a deep bass and speeding off, leaving a smokey trail from burning rubber.

“I hate him,” you smiled to yourself.

“I hate him,” you said to yourself upon walking into Minho’s office.

Like an artificially intelligent robot that didn’t know of its purpose, Minho dressed in his Iron suit walked around his office doing regular office things, like dusting the blinds and tidying up loose papers on his desk. It was a little difficult to do smaller tasks with his stiff and massive iron hands, so you’re not entirely sure what your boss was doing.

“G’morning!” he greeted cheerfully. “Just taking this baby out on a test drive.”

You had just noticed the paint job was completed on the suit which meant that it was good to go. However, you didn’t think this was the ideal way to ‘test drive’ a superhero suit.

“Good morning, Mr. Lee. Is this really the right way to test drive?”

“I got too excited when my car guy told me it was done. He did it so quickly and precisely, too. Look, he even engraved it with my signature! She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

“Yes, very shiny. The gold and red are much prettier than I imagined.”

“Right!? Not too Gryffindor-y, is it?”

“Not at all,” you said sincerely. “Do you want to get coffee now? We should hurry, you have a conference call at 8:00.”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Minho followed you to the door with a trail of heavy iron steps. You turned around quickly and gave him an incredulous look, one he’s seen much too often. “I don’t want coffee anymore.”

“Why not!?”

“I’m not going out in public with you wearing that thing! You look ridiculous!”

“That’s so rude of you to say about my pride and joy! This also took me thirty minutes to put on!”

“Mr. Lee, we’re just getting coffee!”

“You are not fun at all.”

It took only five minutes to get your boss stumbling out of the suit because the button for the release was hidden under a metal panel on his wrist, but at least it was painless.

“I thought you didn’t want to reveal Iron Man until you tested it and got your seal of approval?” you asked the child-like man.

“That’s still the plan, but I’m just so excited! I think we should test it tonight.”

“Tonight? Already?”

“Yup, and I need you here with me in case I die, or something.”

“And to think I was gonna relax and take a bubble bath tonight.”

“It won’t take long, I promise.”

“I’ll believe it when I drop my bath bomb in my tub.”

In your whole time working here, you’ve spent more time together with Minho at both the office and at his home than working alone. The ratio was about seventy-five percent at the office, fifteen percent at his home, and ten percent miscellaneous, like going to business lunches or simple walks to the coffee shop like today. The long work hours were brutal on your feet and your social life, but the money was way too good to pass. You swore you broke the world record for ‘quickest payment of student debt’ with your hard work.

To anyone else, your job sounded so unappealing that no amount of money could ever convince them to do what you’re doing. ‘So brave’, they tell you, but it’s not that you’re brave, it’s that you’re loyal and as much as you hate to say it, you had the best boss. Yes, he’s a little goofy and yes, maybe a bit naive because he’s so young, but he treated you like you’re his equal and not someone so beneath him who takes all of his notes and takes his laundry to be dry cleaned. Plus when he compensated for your time so handsomely, how could you hate your job? Every day was new and exciting when you were with Minho.

The day went along as normal, from conference calls to lunch and finishing the day with an interview with the press. The very second everyone clocked out at 5:00 pm, you followed a speedy boss to wherever he led you.

“Are we going to test it out now?”

“No, silly, it’s still too bright out! We have to test it once the sun sets.”

You knew that sounded too good to be true. You held a light jog in order to keep up with him. “Where are we going then?”

He turned and gave you a suspicious grin. “Shopping!”

“For what!?”

“You and I need matching outfits for the charity ball, remember?”

“You know, I was just kidding when I said that… We don’t have to match…” The last thing you want is for someone to mistake you as your boss’s date instead of his secretary, but to be fair you don’t know many guests going that bring anyone that isn’t a date, so you kind of shot yourself in the foot when you didn’t make that shot into the trash bin.

“We are matching and I am not arguing with you.”

A defeated sigh escaped your lips before entering the backseat of Minho’s car where his driver would take us anywhere he pleased. He told him a cross section that sounded familiar, but not enough for you to guess where you’re going, so from here on out until you were home taking a hot bath, the rest of today would be a surprise.

The car stopped in front of a glossy black DIOR building. You expected nothing less from Minho.

“You would pick Dior,” you scoffed, completely amazed at how someone so rich could have so much brand loyalty to one company.

“Hey, they are consistent and beautifully crafted, don’t judge me.”

“Mr. Lee and Lovely _____!” An older, graceful lady came running to greet both of you with a warm smile dressed in a hot red shade of lipstick. You recognized her voice to be the owner from all the times you called to ask about any pieces Minho could reserve before they hit the runway and were snatched up by the ‘I Have Daddy’s Credit Card and Inheritance’ private-school boys. This was your first time seeing her in person and her calming voice matched her mature appearance perfectly. “This piece has been waiting for you ~”

“I can’t wait, Auntie,” he smiled back graciously like an obedient nephew rewarded with cookies.

She led the two of you to the very back where the private dressing and tailoring area was, where the mirrors went from the floor to the ceiling. The store owner walked in with Minho’s fabric of choice, a velvet jacket with crisp black pants and a white button-up that had the slightest sheen of silver from metallic strands woven into the shirt fabric. In the shadows, one would think the velvet was black, but in the light or at certain angles, there was the slightest sheen to it that showed the darkest shades of indigo and green, like an oil slick. You couldn’t believe the amount of detail in the velvet that your eyes looked like they were popping out of your sockets.

Your boss was so eager to try it on that he was taking off his pants before you were warned. Quickly you turned around and shut your eyes, pretending that you didn’t see his KakaoTalk-patterned boxer briefs.

“M-M-Mr. Lee! At least warn me if you’re going to strip!!”

“Sorry ~” he apologized unapologetically.

A couple of zips and rustling of fabrics later, Minho tapped your shoulder to turn around. Your eyes bulged out of their sockets again while looking at your boss dressed in a suit that was clearly made for him and him only. It didn’t look like any tailoring was needed at all! He looked like he walked right off the runway. There had to be some enchantment spell in the fabric because you swear you’ve never seen any man more handsome before this moment.

“I take it you like it?” Minho teased.

Your cheeks tickled with red when he caught you staring. “You look amazing as usual, Mr. Lee.”

“You think so?” You knew so. “It’s not too flashy, is it?”

“Not at all. I think you have the perfect amount of flash. How does it feel?”

“Like a glove. It’s already perfectly tailored!”

“I know your measurements by heart, my dear,” Auntie bragged. “Of course I had it ready to go already.”

“You’re the best.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug. “What would I be without you?”

“Not GQ’s best dressed man under thirty, that’s for sure.”

“Could you do me another favor? Do you perhaps have something for _____ to match? We have a charity ball next weekend.”

“Mr. Lee, this is really unnecessary -”

“I know exactly what to pull.”

Before you could object, Auntie ran to the back of the store where all the hidden inventory was held. You glared at your cheeky boss, still dressed in his sexy outfit and it was hard to keep your glare when he looked so damn good, that handsome bastard.

“I’m not wearing whatever she brings out.”

“You will and you’ll look great and we will buy it, so don’t embarrass me.”

“Embarrass you!? I am not your doll!”

“I’ve got it!”

Both you and Minho whipped your heads to see Auntie running in with a blacker than black satin and silky outfit that was simple but elegant. Nervous goosebumps spread through your arms and straight to your wallet. You already knew this was going to be the most expensive outfit you’ve ever worn.

“It’s beautiful,” you gasped so slightly.

“Try it on!”

Minho followed Auntie out of the dressing room but not before shooting you a triumphant wink. I mean, who were you to deny your boss and the store owner, right? So with ease, you put on the cooling fabric that clung to your body in all the right spots. The mirror did all justice and perhaps it was a magical mirror that Dior spent millions on to convince their customers to buy everything because damn, you look hot! With your face as red as Minho’s Corvette, you presented the outfit to the two judges.

“Oh, it fits perfectly!” Auntie gushed with wide eyes.

Minho stayed silent with his mouth ajar and eyes scanning you up and down like you were a precious gem discovered in a deep cave beyond a waterfall. It was hard to differentiate between feeling flattered and feeling like object, but at least you were a desired object, right?

“You look amazing,” Minho admitted sincerely, no longer looking at you with awe and rather content.

“Really? I look ok?”

His handsome smile shined brightly at you. Whether you were dressed in your formal work clothes that screamed ‘absolute virgin’ or you were head-to-toe in Dior, you were never just ‘ok’. You always had the attention of everyone in the room once you walked in, especially his. You were always stunning, no matter what. Validation from your boss always came easy and calmed you quickly because he only had eyes for you.

“You look just fine,” he lied, because ‘fine’ didn’t come close to how you looked to him.

“We’ll be the best dressed at the ball, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

The car ride home was quiet other than the trot music playing on the radio from the driver’s playlist. Minho seemed as cool as a cucumber, but you were at the edge of your seat feeling a bit awkward and ugh, unintentionally sweaty. Compliments from any man was one thing, but coming from your boss? A whole different level of weird, especially if they weren’t work related! What did ‘you look just fine’ even mean!? Was that a good thing? Were you too average-looking? Whatever it was, from now until you fall asleep at ungodly hours, those words were going to circulate your thoughts, perhaps haunt you for days.

At exactly 7:03 pm, just as the sun set below the horizon revealing the indigo night sky, the driver pulled up to the back entrance of the building that led to a secret elevator that would take you straight to the underground office after punching in the code. A giggling and grinning Minho was the first to hop out of the car and ran towards the door.

“Mr. Lee, hold on!” you whined as you struggled to get out of the tall car.

“Hurry up, _____! Now’s the perfect time to earn that OT!”

“This time-and-a-half pay better be worth it…”

Upon entering the elevator, you were ready to punch in the 4419 code, but Minho had already pressed the button to the top level, which led to the roof slash helipad.

“Why are we going up?”

“We can’t test the suit inside, silly. Seungmin came by earlier to pick up his suit after I recalibrated it last night and I asked him to take the suit to the roof.”

“How, that thing weighs like a ton!”

“Not when you’re wearing it.”

“You let him wear it before you test drove it!? Mr. Lee, that’s extremely reckless!”

“Relax, I trusted he wouldn’t mess anything up, and look! It’s right there!”

The glass elevator made a slow stop to reveal the red and gold suit standing proudly in the center of the helipad. As soon as the doors panned open, Minho handed you his suitcase before running out and tossing his blazer onto the floor before hastily stepping into the suit.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, running back to your frazzled state. He took the leather suitcase from your hands and popped it open so he could give you a glass tablet. “This is for you.”

You looked at the shiny slab of glass with wonder. “What is it?”

“It’s like a control center. You’ll see what I see in terms of my stats and where I am in the city. If anything goes wrong, like say the jets give out, I need you to send a command to manually turn on the back-ups.”

“And what code is that?”

“Not important, we’ll study those later.”

“Later!? What if something happens tonight!?”

“Nothing will happen I promise, I’ll see you in a bit ~!” his cheering faded away the further he ran from you and to his beloved suit.

There was no use in fighting your boss, so you did as you were told and touched the tablet to reveal the control panel. It was black for a few moments before the screen showed your tiny self off in the distance looking down at the tablet which meant that Minho was able to put on and turn on the suit super quickly without any problems.

“What do you see?” he asked you through the speakers of the tablet from his built-in microphone in the helmet.

“I see me in the distance, the battery level of the suit, and all other weird liquids and commodities at one hundred percent.”

“Perfect!”

You turned to look at your boss who was stretching and feeling out the suit as if this wasn’t his 50th time wearing it. Still, he looked so excited and proud of his hard work, it was hard to tease him about how childish he was, even if he was trying out his yoga poses he just learned.

“How does it feel?”

“It feels incredible! Totally indescribable now that I’m out in the open. And it’s surprisingly lightweight.”

“How were you able to make it feel light with all that metal?”

“I don’t know, if I’m being honest…”

You rolled your eyes. “The work of a genius, huh?”

“You’ve got that right. Are we ready to take off?”

“I believe so. Are you ready to take off?”

“More than I’ll ever be, baby!!”

Before you knew it, you saw the camera’s view on the screen wobble and turn towards the edge of the building. Terrified, you saw your child-like boss get a running start before he dove off the edge and into the sea of the city.

In a panic, you ran and took a peak over the edge, hoping the jets or whatever kept the suit flying would operate properly and leave you without any worries. At first, Minho was but a dark red speck falling beneath the shadows, but a second later, he came flying up at lighting speed doing tricks and flips with ease and whooping loudly, as any normal CEO of a software company slash wannabe superhero would do. You could hear him giggling through your tablet, and like a spectator watching the most spectacular aerial performance, you watched him with a smile on your lips.

After his solo, he glided back down to you and hovered beyond the edge just at your eye level. You couldn’t see any features behind the glass of his eyes so you were left awkwardly staring at his expressionless helmet with those signature weird fangs. After all you and Minho have been through together, even with an idea like this being so ridiculously obscure, he could always rely on you to support him no matter what. He saw how your eyes sparkled with wonderment and how your cheeks dusted a soft pink and it was then that he knew you would stay by his side for even more ridiculous shenanigans to come.

He would never let you leave, anyways. Even in another lifetime, he’d have you by his side forever.

“How cool do I look right now?” he asked. His voice sounded deeper and electronic through the helmet, like he was a robot or had his voice programmed through a phone like Siri. You imagined an idea like that was how Minho planned on becoming immortal one day.

You raised a brow. “You look kind of… scary?”

“Scary!? Why?”

“I don’t know, if I saw a flying robot come at me at rocket speed, I think I’d be terrified!”

“Well, if I come to your rescue, at least you’ll know it’s me.”

“I suppose. So what are you going to do now? Throw a reveal event? Press conference, perhaps?”

“That, or wait for a Demon-Level threat to pass through our city. I don’t know, whichever comes first.” Minho shrugged nonchalantly. “Wanna see something cool?”

Before you could agree, Minho held his palm to the sky before a neon blue blast shot out of it, disappearing into God-knows-where. You could feel the heat from the beam of light radiated around you and fear sparked inside your chest.

“What the hell was that!?” you exclaimed.

“Isn’t that so cool!? Gonna hit some suckers and fry them up like bacon!” Your boss blindly shot another beam of light into the sky and you prayed to someone out there that no planes would disintegrate in the process.

“Hey, careful! What if you hit a satellite or something!” In the process of grabbing Minho’s iron hand so he’d stop being so reckless, you burned yourself upon touching the hot metal opening like a total dumb ass and yanked your hand back. “Ah!!”

“Oh, shit.”

Quickly and haphazardly, Minho landed back on the helipad and climbed out of the iron suit. In the process of running back to your aid, he untied his black silk necktie to use as a temporary band aid on your scalding palm. Gingerly, his cold hands took yours and ran a thumb over the scarring semicircle.

“Ah ah ah stop!!” you cried with tears of pain and embarrassment streaming down your cheeks.

“Sorry! Here,” Minho wrapped his tie around your palm and tied it tightly. The pure silk felt cooling against the burn and soon your tears stopped and you couldn’t do anything else besides sniffle. “Let’s go back inside. My office has a first aid kit.”

Your mumbling and cursing boss led you back to his office with urgency, blaming himself for being so stupid and recklessly playing with what could be considered a weapon of mass destruction. And now his favorite person, the one person who believed in his iron suit, was hurt in the process, pouting cutely and holding your burned hand like you were an injured puppy. This was one of his greatest fears upon completing this project.

You sat on his sapphire blue velvet couch with the bronze-gilded frame that looked like it belonged in the Ravenclaw common room trying to alleviate the pain of the burn in Minho’s ice bucket (for his white wine, of course) while he shifted through his drawers to find the first aid kit you gave him a couple years ago.

“Do you remember when you got this for me?” he asked as soon as he pulled it out from the bottom drawer. You shook your head, too lightheaded and in too much pain to remember. He sat next to you and began to tell the old story while patching you up. “It was your third year working here, but my first day as CEO when I took over for my Dad. I got so many paper cuts from all the paperwork I had to read and sign and I got a massive headache afterwards and I just wanted to eat something because all I had that day was an iced americano. It was so late and by the time I was finished, it was maybe 7:00pm -”

“8:00 pm,” you corrected in between sniffles.

“Ah, so you do remember! At 8:00pm, you waltzed into my office wearing your comfiest clothes with a bag of take-out in one hand and the first aid kit with a million bandaids and Tylenol in the other. That night, you sat in my office and helped patch up my fingers, fed me lo mein, and helped me with the rest of the paperwork for two hours. I thought of you as my guardian angel since that day and vowed to myself that no matter what, you and I would stick by each other’s side and be the dynamic duo that we are forever. Oh, how the tables have turned tonight. Now I’m the one patching you up.”

Minho had finished wrapping your palm at the end of his story. Something about his proclamation didn’t sit right with you. Something about staying here forever, clocking in massive amounts of overtime and being subservient to the same men sounded like your own personal hell.

“I can’t be your secretary forever, Mr. Lee.”

“I know,” he admitted. “But I don’t have to think about that for quite some time, right?”

“Maybe.”

“I hate change, you know.”

“I, more than anyone else, know that.”

Your handsome boss chuckled lightly at the heavy subject. His curly coffe hair covered his eyes as he looked down at your hand and traced small shapes on the bandaid. You knew that he knew you didn’t want to stay here forever, and he couldn’t blame you, but it didn’t make the thought of you leaving any less heartbreaking.

“Does it feel any better?”

“Much better,” you said truthfully as the cooling gel felt like a magical potion.

“This first aid kit is the only practical gift I’ve ever received. All others are for the aesthetic.”

“Do you prefer practical gifts, Mr. Lee?”

“Of course! The fuck am I going to do with a VVS diamond-encrusted chain?”

“Flex on all the other young CEOs?”

“And partake in their pissing contest? No, thank you.”

“You’re telling me you won’t be doing that this weekend at the Charity Ball?”

“When I have you next to me, I don’t need VVS diamonds,” Minho grinned flirtatiously.

You hit his arm with your good hand and he flinched upon his correct prediction. “I am not an accessory!”

“Of course not! You are my beloved intelligent sidekick that all other big wigs tell me they wished they had! But when you look like that, it’s bonus points ~”

“Ugh, your kind are all the same!” you scoffed, trying to collect your things and storm out the door.

“It’s a compliment!” he teased. Minho managed to chase after you and grab your things to carry to his car so he could drive you home for the 1106th time.

After a long and tiring rest of the week helping your boss do target practicing with the iron suit on, Saturday had arrived and now you had the honor of accompanying said-boss to a Big Dick contest disguised as a Charity Ball. The main event was for the sake of the children of course, but the real show was to see who was wearing what designer with what accessories and who pulled up in the fanciest sports car with the youngest and sexiest date in their arms. You were so, so lucky to be working for someone who liked to stay low key, despite always being the center of attention.

“Why are you so nervous?” Minho teased, nudging your arm as you both walked up to the front doors of the venue. “This isn’t the first time you’ve played as my date.”

“I know, but it doesn’t get any easier,” you admitted, shyly covering yourself from the much-more revealing outfit now that it was tailored to fit.

“You and I look fine! Muted colors, minimal diamonds, low key attitudes - we’re perfect! No one will even notice we’re here.”

That was a complete lie, because the second you walked in, a swarm of gossip columnists and magazine writers circled around the two of you, bombarding you both with the same questions you were so used to.

“Mr. Lee, who are you wearing?”

“Mr. Lee, who’s your lovely date?”

“Mr. Lee, what’s the best way to lock in that your date will go home with you?”

Minho raised his hand slightly and all that could be heard were the cameras clicking. God, the power he has…

“Dior, a close friend, and be so irresistible that they can’t say no.”

Without another word, he gently took your bandaged hand and led you out of the circle of gossipers who were silent in awe. With your free hand, you covered up your ugly laughing.

“You’re such a cornball!” you said in between a fit of giggles.

“An irresistible cornball, at least. Now, walk me through all these people again?”

Minho was young and when it came to networking, he still had the mentality of being the CEO’s son rather than the CEO. That meant that Minho didn’t care much in remembering other CEO’s names and relied on you to remind him of all the people he should have remembered three years ago. It was a consistent hour of introductions and small talk about future goals, collaborations, and golfing, all of which you were able to expertly tune out while sipping prosecco and snacking on caviar tarts. Years of experience thankfully made these events easier.

“Did you practice your speech for your donation?” you reminded Minho after taking a seat at the prestigious Table 2. Since the company was one of the Charity Ball’s biggest sponsors, the CEOs were always invited to say some manufactured speech.

“Yeah. I even practiced it in the shower. Hopefully I get the charity organization correct this time.”

“It’s amazing how you even got this far.”

The Charity Ball should have been named See Who Can Donate the Most Money Ball because every speech given by a CEO of some company tried to out-do each other. Luckily, your company’s speeches were always last and your touch of humanity written on paper always had the audience in awe with the Minho’s compassion. To pass the time, you and Minho played rock-paper-scissors and whomever lost had to drink champagne. Let’s just say Minho ended up having the infamous Asian Glow.

His face was still blushy by the time it was his turn and you almost felt bad because the pictures with the flash turned on probably wouldn’t be so flattering in the magazines, but that wouldn’t matter because he still looks like the most stunning man in the room. All eyes were on him as he made his speech, but he had his eyes on you. Probably because he would piss his pants if he saw how many people were looking at him. You gave him two thumbs up for encouragement.

“It is the greatest honor to be here and giving a speech for the third year in a row. Children are the source and future for a better world, and it is our duty to -”

You blanked out for most of it since you wrote it. It was hard to focus anyways when his eyes were so piercing, so you averted his gaze and counted the number of peppercorns on his unfinished steak. At an alarming fifty-three, you glanced around the gallery to see if anyone was actually paying attention. Many, if not all, of the guests around your age were paying attention with dreamy eyes and pouty lips, all wishing they were in your position tonight. Some even dared to make eye contact with you as if to say, ‘how DARE you NOT pay attention to the sexiest man alive!?’ The older, more powerful guests seemed genuinely interested in the amount Minho was donating and the older dates seemed to care more about their reflection on the back of a spoon.

The fattest check with a bunch of zeros was walked onto the stage. A standing ovation was in order of course, and you conformed with the crowd, even though applause always made Minho visibly uncomfortable.

“He throws a big, fat check to charity and yet he still doesn’t like the attention, huh?”

As the clapping died down and the noise faded into the smooth hum of the live piano and jazz music, you turned to face the owner of a familiar sly voice. The man that stood before you was the famous doctor slash art collector slash playboy who you’ve come to know after attending all of these flashy events.

You smiled slyly at the man. “If it isn’t GQ’s Bachelor of the Month, Dr. Park Seonghwa.”

The raven-haired man gave you his signature smirk. Then he took your hand and kissed it tenderly like the prince he is. “Lovely _____, pleasure to see you as always.”

“Have you been doing that to all the other guests you frequent at these events?”

“Of course not! Just the beautiful ones.”

You let out a loud scoff. “You and your way with words.”

“Are they enough to convince you to finally go out to dinner with me?”

“Not quite.”

Seonghwa sighed tiredly and dropped his head as if this was the first time you’ve rejected him. Guess every time felt like the first time. The handsome raven held his hand out to you. “If not dinner, how about a dance?”

Hesitantly, you searched for your boss like you were trying to sneak away from a parent. He was busy shaking hands and catching up with The Important People’s Club, so you didn’t think one dance would hurt, though once you feed a dog a treat, he’ll be begging for more forever.

You took his hand. “One dance.”

“Five.”

“One.”

“Three?”

“Dr. Park!”

“What!? Ok, fine, one dance, unless you’re really feeling it and then we’ll dance some more.”

“Maybe in another lifetime, Dr. Park.”

The young doctor led you to the dance floor before you could object further. For someone not-so-smooth with pick-up lines, he was definitely smooth with his moves. With one gentle hand on your waist and the other holding your hand, you two glide around the white tiles like the Royalty of the ball, and truly, for a few moments, it really felt like you were the star of this fairy tale.

Seonghwa let out a tired sigh. “Intelligent, beautiful, loyal, and good at dancing? How are you so good at everything?”

“Stop that.”

“I mean it! Yet no man swept you off your feet.”

“Just because I won’t say yes to you, doesn’t mean I’m not waiting for that special someone.”

Seonghwa held your hand up high and made you do a little twirl. “You might be waiting for a while, beautiful.”

“Why do you say that?”

“With Mr. Minho by your side twenty-five hours eight days a week, there is no man that has the courage to come in between such a strong relationship.”

“Even you?” you challenged.

“Even I. Unless you want me to -”

“Nope.”

“Ice cold heart as always…”

Song number one melted into song number two and it passed you both as you continued to discuss the hot topic of why you’re still single. It’s a conversation topic that you thought was reserved for nosy family members for you to brush off, but coming from another man who has begged for your number since you both met really put your love life into perspective. Perhaps you were too loyal to your boss…

While engulfed in the heated debate, Minho was desperately searching for his right hand where he thought you’d be - either at your seat or by the bar, but you were at neither. After receiving his order from the bar, he let the expensive gold liquid over ice flooded through his bloodstream, which led him to a group of gawking gossipers whining and gazing at the dance floor. What was all the hype about?

The sight of you in the arms of the world’s most arrogant doctor didn’t sit too well with him. The scene made him see green.

“You’re such a liar!” Minho heard you laugh aloud. “I did NOT give you so-called bedroom eyes at Yuta’s house warming!”

“You’re telling me you weren’t eyeing me up and down like a barbecued piece of pork belly dipped in sesame oil?”

“That’s because you had sesame oil on your white shirt!”

“Excuses, excuses.”

Minho took another sip of his golden drink before putting it down haphazardly and waltzing towards the dancing couple. To onlookers, this scene looked like it was straight out of those cheesy love triangle dramas. The gossipy gals wondered - would Minho punch Seonghwa? Would he grab your hand harshly and drag you away to scold you and tell you how much he cared about you? Would he kiss you!?

You saw your uncharacteristically stern-looking boss approaching, and even though you’re unsure of his intentions, you still smiled brightly, as you always did whenever you saw him. Minho lightened his heavy, angry steps. Even with another man by your side, you still looked at him. How could he be mad at you?

“Hello, Mr. Minho,” Seonghwa greeted, holding out a hand for him to shake. You knew your boss wasn’t the biggest fan of Seonghwa, but he politely returned the gesture anyways. Somehow you felt your heart beating in your throat - the tension on the dance floor was too high, too powerful, and you were but an awkward and nervous secretary standing on the side while two powerful men duked it out.

“Dr. Seonghwa, nice to see you again.” Minho was good at lying, but his lies never passed you. The amount of discomfort knitted in his eyebrows almost made you snicker. “Long nights at the hospital still?”

“As always, but at least it’s rewarding and enjoyable. How are your long nights at the office?”

“Can’t get enough of them, right, _____?”

“What? You’re still doing that much overtime?” Seonghwa asked worriedly. Now, was he worried because you were overworking yourself or was he worried because you were spending so much time with a man that wasn’t him?

You shrugged unapologetically. “I love that overtime pay.”

“_____, that’s not good for your health -”

“I tell them that all the time,” Minho interrupted defensively. He was always like this whenever anyone questioned the amount of work you had. To you, it was not much of a burden at all, but to anyone else, they couldn’t fathom your work hours but if they saw your paycheck, maybe they’d understand. Even your boss felt bad whenever your friends blamed him, but no matter how much he tried to convince you of a normal 40-hour work week, the duties of being his secretary never added up to just that. Therefore, your boss always felt the need to defend you and him for the sake of making sure you weren’t portrayed as his slave. “But you’re just so stubborn, aren’t you?”

“Only because it’s you, Mr. Lee,” you said like you’re reading a script. Somehow that doesn’t translate through the ears of the two powerful men in front of you, as your boss smiled triumphantly and Seonghwa couldn’t help but shake his head.

“If you ever want to take me up on that date, Lovely _____, you know who to call.” The most handsome man who’s ever flirted with you took your hand gently and planted a sweet, soft kiss that sent little tingles all up your arm. You don’t think you’ll ever reciprocate his feelings, but the feeling of being desired and wanted by a man really kicked up your ego and really made you think - when was the last time you ever liked someone, or someone ever liked you?

Park Seonghwa disappeared into the crowd and perhaps left the Charity Ball all together. Until next time.

Your boss turned to face you, whose stern face quickly melted into innocence as he knew what was coming by the look on your annoyed expression. “What?”

“What was that all about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You shook your head and mumbled under your breath, “Ugh, you are unbelievable, Mr. Lee.”

As you tried to escape, the desperate man caught your hand. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Away from you for just five minutes, can you let me do that?” you snapped in a hushed volume. “Or do you need to watch over me and speak on my behalf, since you’re my Father apparently!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to act like that.”

“You say that every time, especially when I’m talking to another man and even more-so when I’m talking to Dr. Park. When will your sorries mean something?”

“You know I get protective over you.”

“Again, you are not my Father!”

“I know, but -”

All of the attention that was once focused on the handsome CEO and his secretary shifted to the glass ceiling that was now shattered to pieces upon the force of some dozens of masked strangers dressed in all black. Minho instinctively, though harshly, forced you down so he could hover over you so none of the glass hit you. What followed seemed to be too numbing, as all of the stimuli in the banquet hall was too much to handle.

“Get down,” Minho instructed while pushing you under one of the tables. “Don’t move until I come back.”

“Wait, but where are you -”

“I’ll be back in ten minutes!”

“Mr. Lee!”

Of course, he didn’t listen, as Mr. Lee always did what he wanted, right? Which would normally annoy the fuck out of you, but who has the time to panic about what your boss was up to when you’re stranded under the table and shrouded by cheap table cloth linen?

Since those people had invaded and fallen from the sky, you noticed that no gunshots or any sort of violence outside of melee were heard. No purpose of the attack is even known yet, but the signs were promising, until the famous alarm was heard throughout the whole town.

“Threat level: Dragon. Please stay inside until all threats have been cleared. Threat level: Dragon. Please stay inside until -”

“Ah, yes, the richest of the rich gather here today to donate the smallest percentage of their some billions of dollars to charity,” a booming voice tisked through a microphone. “Do you feel good about your good deed of the year? Are you proud of yourselves?”

For some unknown reason, the voice paused, as if waiting for an answer or a reaction from the people. Nothing was heard besides shrill screaming and crying, which was probably what the wannabe-vigilante wanted. For the first time, you peaked through the slits of the table cloth. At the stage where Minho gave his speech was a now-broken stage with the foot of a giant robot through it. It was a very top-heavy robot that looked like it had a large cavity in its belly, whose odd shape probably served some weird purpose unknown to everyone.

“Perhaps you’ll be proud of your donations for once when we capture you all and milk you of your every last penny!” The man laughed evilly at the head of the robot. “Down with the rich!”

“Down with the rich!” his people cheered in unison.

The oddly political turn of events made the scene less jarring - it seemed like an over-exaggeration of townspeople coming together to fight for higher taxing of the rich. Then you were reminded of the Dragon-level threat by how the minions loaded up the richies with a gun pointed to their heads and the complex mechanism that loaded them up to the belly of the robot. Somewhere among the mass of people you saw Seonghwa in between another surgeon and a senior engineer at Tesla before he disappeared behind the walls of metal.

“Hey, I found another one!” someone yelled close by. “Under Table 2!”

Shit. “Fuck.”

Perhaps all those years of advance self defense classes that Minho’s father enrolled you in would come to good use this time.

By your glamorously-strapped heel, one of the masked men dragged you out from under the table. There was no use in struggling, and the man seemed quite satisfied with how you complied.

“Let’s go, darling.”

With your free foot, you dug the pointy end of the studded heel into his groin. Luckily, you can only ever imagine how painful something like that could feel. He was in so much pain that he doubled over and let go of your foot, leaving you to flee to God-knows-where after you stole his police baton.

“Don’t fucking call me darling,” you spat as a farewell.

There were too many men in between you and the emergency exit, so you had to fight your way through like in those cheesy American action movies. A bunch of kicks in the groin here and a couple baton to the knee caps there were enough to get you by half way, but then they started double-teaming on you. Of course, this was much harder, but Senior Mr. Lee didn’t give you the best sensei in the damn nation for no reason. You felt invincible even after defeating multiple double teams, but it was the triple teaming that got you stuck. You can only kick and baton so many groins at one time until two men held each of your arms and the other stole the baton.

While struggling to break free, you managed to knee the one in front of you in the chin, causing him to cut his lip with blood dripping on his cheap leather shoes. After realizing what had happened, he punched you in the cheek as punishment. Was that a bone you heard cracking?

“Try me again, bitch,” he seethed.

Out of nowhere, your knight in Iron armor landed before the one who punched you and returned the favor, sending his body through so many walls of this building that you worried about the foundation and how long you had before it collapsed.

Minho’s red and gold helmet swung sharply and the empty eyes were staring into the souls of your captors while at the same time not.

“Who’s next?” Minho threatened with his super cool and inaccurately deep robotic voice.

Both men fled the scene as quickly as possible, losing their grip and throwing you to the floor. The penny taste finally registered in your brain that yes, you were definitely coughing and spitting out blood.

The cold metal of Iron Man’s hand helped you to your feet while the other cupped your quickly-bruising cheek gently. The underlying tenderness of your boss’s touch somehow healed all pain, or perhaps it was the cooling iron. Gestures like these were so foreign that you almost forgot it was your boss behind the mask and not some handsome stranger who was ready to sweep you off your feet. It was instances like these where you wished the latter was real.

“Are you ok?” he asked gingerly.

“I’m fine,” you promised. “Go save your investors.”

A light chuckle came from Iron Man. “My driver’s already waiting outside. Are you able to run?”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

“C’mon, _____, now’s not the time -”

“Do not argue with me until you save everyone, Mr. Lee.”

Minho shook his head tiredly. He knew there was no use arguing with his headstrong secretary. “You’re so stubborn. Just promise you won’t get into any trouble this time.”

“No.”

“I’m cuttin’ down on your work hours!” he yelled, blasting off to fight the giant robot thing so he wouldn’t have to hear you argue back again.

You were left with a couple of masked minions who still had the balls to attack and capture you as if you were worth more than your surprisingly above-average five-figure salary. Your copper saliva mixed with your boss trusting you enough to not die in the middle of a Dragon-level threat really pumped the adrenaline through your veins, so as one man sprinted to attack, you managed to dodge it and kick him in the throat before he could try something else. The other guy tried to sneak up behind you, but you were quicker, swinging the baton hard enough to the head to knock him out cold. The power you felt coursing through your body left you on a major high. Where were all the other minions? No way was that all…

In the middle of the banquet hall was the face-off of the century, rivaling any and all story lines from DC and Marvel combined. A tiny seven-foot-something intricately crafted and painted sheet of metal was about to fight a giant several-stories tall and several-dozen-tons heavy hunk of junk with dozens of guests they managed to scoop inside. Now how was Mr. Lee going to save the day this time?

“Lee Minho, the man of the night,” the man controlling the ship scoffed. “You will look like my childhood favorite action figure once I stuff you in a glass box in my office! A prized treasure is what you’ll be. How does that sound?”

“Sounds kinky.” You could just sense the smirk behind his mask. “Then what will you do to me?”

“Milk you of all your assets, of course! Liquidation of its truest definition! The redistribution of wealth will come easy to the people, especially with your earnings in the mix!”

“Fine, take my money. But let these people go.”

“Absolutely not! I need all the money I can get! How do you expect me to change the distribution of wealth of the entire world with just one CEO’s salary!? Mr. Lee, I thought you knew that, silly.”

“Ok, fine. You take all of our money and then what?”

“Well, kill you, of course.”

A chorus of gasps and crying were heard from the belly of the machine.

The philosophical man continued. “People like you are the very reason there is a large pay gap. You sit on your ass drinking cocktails and eating caviar and you donate to some profiting charity only a tiny percentage of what you make while all the good hard-working people are the ones bringing the big bucks into your bank account! And what do they get? Small paychecks and four hours of sleep!”

Yeah, this guy was bad, but he had his points, so you’ll cheers to that, am I right?

“Well, then where will you get your money after that? Hm?” The captain stayed silent. “Where will you get more money to sustain this utopia? Certainly not from the hard-working people who have no experience leading or handling such a huge sum of money. And certainly not from you, right? Ha! With your five-figure salary paychecks that barely get the bills paid on time.”

A heavy arm swung to try and snatch up your boss. Though the arm was so large and heavy, Minho barely managed to escape his grasp. By the silence of the once-chatty leader of the pack, you could tell that he was bothered by the words spat by the youngest CEO in the room. How dare Minho mock his hard-earned pay when his earnings were given to him on a VVS diamond-encrusted platter!? There were a couple of times where he landed a couple of hits on your boss and you should feel worried, but you couldn’t help but think he deserved it. You hated to be on the enemy’s side, but you, too, were one of those five-figure salary paycheck owners that are barely scraping by with their bills. And of course you were all for the redistribution of wealth, but this guy definitely went a little too far…

You would think that the sheer size of this oddly-shaped hunk of metal wouldn’t be able to move so fast, but it managed to capture Minho by digging its claw to the wall and sandwiching Minho in between. He couldn’t even wiggle his way out between gaps because the thing was pressing too hard against the wall. Minho could feel the metal bending from inside.

“People like you will never understand the worth of the dollar,” the captain seethed. “Not when stacks come to you in baskets sewn with gold and jewels commissioned by your Daddy. People like you, and everyone captured, need to be humbled a little. Maybe you all can learn a little something from the working class.”

“Then we die, is that right?”

“Of course! But at least you’ll die a hard-working man, Mr. Lee.”

“I will. But I’ll die a hard-working man with billions in my grave before I let you take a penny!”

The blue beam of light that you once cursed for burning a half circle on your palm you were now thankful for, as that beam of light shot your boss up in the air and freed him, taking a few fingers off of the hunk of metal with him. A couple more shots of incinerator beams later, and both arms of the robot had been severed and half disintegrated. Minho kicked the glass where the leader sat and pulled out the defenseless lump of flesh that spoke the harsh truth about the wealthy. The leader was a young man who was not much older than either you or your boss, who didn’t look afraid in the slightest. Perhaps he expected, or even wanted, to go out this way - fighting for what he believed in.

The police, who had been waiting outside for all the ruckus to die down, came in and cuffed the leader and a few of his minions who cowardly hid under the tables. Minho helped all of his investors safely come out and among the crowd you saw Seonghwa, safe and sound.

You thought after a traumatic attack that now was not the time and place to reveal who Iron Man was or even associate yourself with him, so you tried to mix in with the crowd and book it to the driver like he asked you to do before. But of course your flaunty boss wanted to do the exact opposite.

“_____, wait!”

No, no, no, no, no, what the hell! Really!? Right now!? was how Minho read your expression as he walked to you with the suit on. When the seven-foot something Iron Man stopped before you, the face of his helmet slid open to reveal an out-of-breath Minho. The entire banquet hall echoed with gasps.

“Are you ok? You’re not hurt, are you? Your bruise is getting worse!”

You could not feel anything on the left half of your face besides intense pain and somehow numbness at the same time and your limbs felt like jello and over-kneaded dough. But you couldn’t let your boss worry about you - he needs to take care of more important people right now. You’ll be fine come tomorrow once you sleep on a frozen bag of peas.

“I’m fine, I promise,” you said convincingly. “Looks like you have an impromptu press conference to deal with.”

To Minho’s dismay, all of the cameras and press and the phones of his business friends captured his face inside the Iron suit next to his famous secretary that all his business friends wished they had. He knew you hated press conferences because even though you never said anything, you were always by his side and that meant the cameras were pointed at you also.

“I can deal with them. Go to the car and go home.”

“I can stay with you.”

“I won’t allow it. You need to go home and ice your face.”

“I said I -”

“I said go.”

Minho never raised his voice at you ever because he never had a reason to. You were always hard-working and loyal and you always did everything correctly and did it with his best interest in mind. He’ll allow small things that might be detrimental to your health, like all the over time you loved to have and the unhealthy amounts of coffee you drown yourself in. But when the arm that’s supporting your body weight was shaking, your left cheek was the color of aubergine, and you had blood splatters on different parts of your body, that’s when he had to draw the line. Worry was knitted into his brows and his lips were a flat line and you only ever saw his face like this whenever he talked with his father. It was terrifying to see him almost mad at you and it made your heart sink a little that you did something wrong.

He softened his expression upon seeing your glossy eyes. “Take Monday off to rest. I’ll see you on Tuesday, ok?”

“But -”

“I’ll pay you for your time off, so don’t worry about the money. I just want you to rest. Can you do that for me?” You could only nod. “Thank you. Go home - I’ll text you when I’m done cleaning up tonight.”

Minho plastered on his happy television face and returned to the fawning crowd and overly-thankful investors. You were blinded by the flashing camera lights and that was your cue that you didn’t belong there anymore.

The trot music-loving driver hummed the whole way home while driving on auto-pilot, as he had memorized the path to your apartment long ago. Sitting in the back seat covered head-to-toe in the finest satin wasn’t as luxurious when you were alone as opposed to having your equally-luxurious boss next to you. You imagined what it’d be like if a giant robot didn’t crash the party this evening: you’d probably yell at him more about how you needed space and that he was overreacting with the whole Seonghwa deal; then he might try to bribe you with food or dessert so that you’d stop pouting like a child (and you’d totally cave in); and finally, he’d walk you up to your doorstep begging to come inside once more and you’d deny his entry, only for him to leave you with a comment about how you were the most stunning person at the ball tonight.

In short, as much as you hated to admit it, the ride home was lonely. Can you believe that? Your short time alone away from your boss was fucking lonely. Not peaceful, not relaxing, not mind-clearing, but totally and completely lonely. So much so that your heart ached a little, and to put these feelings in the simplest terms, it was because you were so used to being by his side that the emptiness to the seat next to you mimicked an unfamiliar cavity in your heart. It’s a painful feeling, really, because that meant leaving this job would be much harder than you hoped.

As if he planted a tracking device in your phone, Minho texted you upon locking the front door to your place.

The Money Man [01:03 am]: did you make it home ok?

An involuntary smile spread across your lips.

You [01:04 am]: just got home. are you stalking me?

The Money Man [01:04 am]: you didn’t think the phone i gave you was completely harmless and bugless, did you? ;)

You [01:05 am]: i should have known better. how’s the impromptu press conference? are people surprised that it’s you?

The Money Man [01:07am]: they are, but at the same time it’s not. ppl keep asking me questions and won’t let me take the suit off, can you believe that!? it’s hot as balls in this thing!!

The Money Man [01:07am]: shit, gotta go - gotta somehow convince these idiots this is definitely NOT something to invest in.

You [01:08am]: text when you’re home.

The Money Man [01:08am]: yes, darling.

‘Darling’ has a nice ring to it.

Having Sunday all to yourself was normal and you did what you always did every weekend: cleaned your place, took your time making a nice meal, organizing all of your work papers, and ended the night with a hot shower and an ice pack to your cheek. Monday, on the other hand was a disaster. You were so bored! Your fingers were itching to scribble down your boss’s agenda and you were so tempted to log into your work laptop, but you knew Minho would chew your ear off for not listening to him and resting as you should. It wasn’t your fault that you were a work-a-holic!

After looking in the mirror and hating the way your face looked for the fiftieth time, it was time to accept that the bruise wouldn’t disappear for at least a couple more weeks. Sunday was at its ugliest, where the center of your cheek was a deep purple and there was this off-colored halo around the perimeter. Now, the swelling went down and it wasn’t as purple or painful, but still equally ugly no matter how you looked at it or tried to cover it up.

After a lonely and boring Monday afternoon, your doorbell rang around 5:00pm. You weren’t expecting any visitors or deliverymen, so upon peaking through your viewfinder, you were surprised to see your boss on the other side.

“What are you doing here?” you asked surprised.

Minho was glad you didn’t seem disgusted by his presence since he was the one who told you to take the day off and you must be tired of seeing his face by now. He whipped out an oily bag from behind his back with a child-like grin on his face. It was an unusual sight to see a man dressed in a several thousand dollar business suit carrying a twenty dollar bag of dinner.

“You and I have some business to discuss.”

“Hold on, let me get this straight - you tell me to take the day off, rest up, ice my bloodshot cheek only for you to come into my home and say I need to work?”

“Yup,” he claimed unapologetically, squeezing past you to get through.

“Yes, please come in, Your Highness,” you rolled your eyes, though he was already setting up at your dinner table.

“Your home is nice. Why are you always so embarrassed whenever I try to come in?”

“I mean, look at it. It’s nowhere near as nice as your home.”

“It’s as more of a home than my place will ever be, no matter how many velvet cushions and arcade games I ask you to buy for the place.” Minho whipped out two bottles of beer, his favorite chaser to wash down the oiliness of the fried chicken, and poured them into glasses. “How’s your cheek?”

“By the look on your face, I guess not so good?”

He adjusted his twisted expression upon your teasing. Blood and bruises were never his thing, so any variation of the sort just looked bad in general. “It just looks so painful… Have you been icing it like I asked?”

“I have, and it’s not as painful as it looks!”

“Oh, yeah?”

Minho challenged your claim by standing in front of you and lowering his head to see you at eye-level. His face was way too close to be considered appropriate for CEO and Secretary relationship behavior, though you knew he never cared for those formalities. His eyes were always so sparkly per usual and that gave him that dreamy stare all the ladies in the office loved. You never saw the appeal to it until now, with only a few centimetres in between.

He poked your bruised-like-an-apple cheek.

“Ow, what the hell!” you screamed, swatting his hand away.

“Not as painful as it looks, my ass.”

“Well, people don’t go around poking my cheek all day!”

“Do you need pain killers? My doctor can write you a prescription for the best one on and off market.”

“That’s ok, I only trust Dr. Seonghwa.”

Minho gave you the same look he gave a former intern who got his breakfast and coffee order incorrect. Let’s just say the intern started crying on the spot. You, on the other hand, could barely hold in your snicker from his death glare. You were never on the receiving end of the infamous death glare and now that you were, it was hard to take it seriously.

“Ha ha,” Minho fake laughed. “Not funny.”

“What exactly do you have against him, anyways? It’s surprising that you’re threatened by the likes of a doctor and not some other hot shot software company CEO.”

“I don’t have anything against him.”

“You’re such a liar!” you scoffed, taking a swig of the ice-cold beer. “If you didn’t have a problem with him, you wouldn’t have acted so defensive at the charity ball.”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” he said shamelessly. A vigorous bite of a chicken leg came afterwards. “He looks at you like how I look at chicken legs.”

“Well, maybe I like the way he looks at me.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Stop doing that.”

“You deserve it for acting like my Dad that night.”

“I said I was sorry! I even bought you dinner and cold beer to make up for it!”

“Oh, so this is not because you said that me and you have some business to discuss?”

“Well, that, too.” Minho wiped his greasy fingers on his silk handkerchief that he kept on the inside of his breast pocket before whipping out his phone to show you multiple news articles on the night of the charity ball. “Watch these videos.”

Almost all of them were exposing your boss who was behind the genius that is Iron Man, but what preceded the reveals were clips of you kicking major ass. The sources came from both paparazzi and the security tapes at multiple angles and it was hard to hide the fact that it was you as all angles captured your facial features quite clearly. Headlines and whole articles talked about how the mighty CEO and his secretary were the perfect unstoppable duo and they weren’t wrong - you kicking ass in a sexy outfit with a man of iron handling the big guy? Definitely a story worth selling.

Your brows furrowed worriedly because you had no idea how Minho felt. “Are you mad…?

“Mad?” Minho paused the current video and placed his phone face-down on the table so he could focus on his good chicken and better company. “Why would I be mad?”

“I don’t know! What’s the point in showing me these videos?”

“To show you how bad ass you look! Where did you even learn these moves!?”

“For some reason, your father thought being a secretary was dangerous enough that he decided to enroll me in some classes. I actually really liked it a lot, so I kept at it and I guess I got to a pretty advanced level.”

“Pretty advanced is definitely a misnomer, love. Well, it’s good to hear that Father has made one good decision in his reign.”

“Is this the business you wanted to speak about?” you asked shyly, hoping that the beer was a good enough excuse for your blushing cheeks. You’ll never get used to Minho praising you.

“Sort of. I have a proposition for you.”

“What, that you want me to be your sidekick?” you scoffed. When Minho remained silent with only the same sly smirk on his lips, you could see your worst fears coming true. “Oh, God, you’re not serious.”

“I am one hundred percent serious.”

“Are you out of your damn mind!? I am not sidekick material!”

“You totally are! You and I are already the perfect duo! Why not take it up a notch!?”

“No, Mr. Lee, I cannot be your secretary again, but in a different form and outfit!”

“Why not!? It’s not like I’m not going to pay you for it.”

“The pay is not the problem. The pay is never the problem. It’s…”

How do you put that the pressure of keeping the entire country safe and being by his side twenty-four/seven sounded like your own personal purgatory that you could never escape for as long as you lived, or until you died by the hands of some Demon-level threat monster?

“It’s a huge commitment, I know,” Minho admitted. “Too huge to even put a price on it. But can you at least consider it? I can’t imagine anyone else by my side except you.”

Now only if a man who wasn’t your boss said that to you without any underlying superhero context, you might have considered the proposal.

“Mr. Lee, I can’t…”

You hesitated getting the right words out, but Minho knew why. You’ve been bringing up how you couldn’t stay his secretary forever, and although he knew this was true, he couldn’t help but try to keep you anyways. You’ve been loyal to him for so long that he often forgot how to treat you like a friend and not his subordinate. But the thought of you leaving? Soon, at that? It was something he didn’t want to think about just yet. He wanted to keep you by his side for as long as he could.

Minho downed the last of his beer before whipping out his phone again. This time a slow song played over the speakers. He stood up and offered you a hand.

You raised a brow. “What are you…?”

“You and I never got to dance on Saturday. So dance with me.”

“Here? Right now? In my small ass apartment?”

“The next charity ball isn’t for another month and I don’t think I can wait that long.”

His impatience was just shy of flattering - if only you weren’t so afraid of being within close proximity to him. It was one thing when he helped ease the burn on your hand, it was another when he touched your cheek while inside his iron suit, but the two of you alone dancing in the middle of your living room was a whole other level of intimacy that needed to be hidden from human resources,

You took his hand and he led you to the living room. One hand on your waist and another holding the one with the scabbing half-circle. The two of you swayed in silent contentment for several songs. It was a comfortable silence, but there’s some hidden sadness to it that you couldn’t explain - something along the lines of him missing you dearly, despite you being right in front of him, and you missed him dearly, too. So much that your nerves made you squeeze his hand harder, asking him to not let go of you for a long time.

Then your boss pulled you in close enough that it felt like he was hugging you.

“S-Sir?” you stuttered nervously.

“Thank you,” he began. “For always being there.”

“Well, that’s my job,” you snickered.

“Not just as my secretary, but as my friend.”

“You think of me as your friend?”

“I do. Don’t tell Vice President Chan this, but I consider you one of my closest friends.”

“You’re quite soft, aren’t you?” It took a moment to register that he was definitely not joking. The tension in your shoulders diminished and you were able to relax in front of the equally-vulnerable man. “I consider you one of my closest friends, too.”

“Really?”

“By association though. After all these years being by your side, it’s only natural that I came to like you.”

“I like you, too,” he chuckled, tucking some hairs behind your ear. “A little too much, at that.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“In another lifetime, I feel like you and I would be soulmates.”

“You don’t think we would be in this lifetime?”

Were you hoping to be? “Perhaps. By association though, right?”

You didn’t want to press more about any underlying meaning to his statements, so instead you looked down embarrassed. In another lifetime, in this lifetime, in multiple lifetimes, Minho thought you and him would be each other’s soulmate no matter what, because a lifetime with you sounded perfect.

A thumb gently ran over the perimeter of your cheek bruise and it tickled rather than burned, so that was a good sign that it was healing. A loud tisk came from your boss.

“God, do I really put you through this much pain!?” he cried aloud.

“Huh? You didn’t cause this - those dumbass followers did!”

“I guess, but I was the one who brought you to that event! And what about the scar on your hand, huh? I definitely caused that one.”

“Well, yeah, but -”

“That’s it, I can’t be hurting you like this anymore. I can’t be putting you through all of this danger like you’re my bodyguard. I have to let you go.”

You knew he was joking when he couldn’t hold in his cheeky smile. “That is not probable cause to fire me, Mr. Lee.”

“Really? Dammit.”

“No matter how many times I get hurt, you can’t get rid of me that easily, ok? I go out on my own terms!”

“So strong willed… I almost hate it.” Minho sighed exaggeratedly before pulling you in for a real hug this time. His arms squeezed your waist tightly, letting you know that he didn’t want to let you go even if he tried. “Just make sure to give me a two weeks notice, all right?”

“Anything for you, boss.”

“I’m going to miss hearing that from you the most when you leave.”

You hit his chest lightly, but he caught your hand and held it for a few moments before leading you back to your kitchen to finish up dinner. The rest of the night wasn’t you and your boss - it was you and your closest friend enjoying dinner and some ice cream you had in your freezer.

In another lifetime, huh? Too bad you were stuck in this one.

Work has mellowed out in terms of paperwork and actually work and has instead transitioned into more press conferences and meetings with government officials regarding Iron Man. In theory, the meetings sounded cool, but you wouldn’t know for sure, as your boss decided to take one of the newer girls as his assistant for these meetings.

The first time he denied your company, you were only a little confused, but it soon passed when he said there was a lot of paperwork he only trusted you to complete on his behalf. But when he would bring her to every event - whether it was out of habit or on purpose - for an entire month, and her only, it really made your blood boil.

No, you weren’t jealous…! You weren’t jealous he was hanging out with someone younger and prettier and more his type! Definitely not! You were upset that your boss, whom you called one of your closest friends in a time of vulnerability, was already replacing you before you could put your two weeks in! And you knew this to be true when he denied your invitation to get lunch and instead you found him in the cafeteria laughing and flirting with the new girl at the table you and him would always sit at.

For a whole month, without even knowing it, you were slowly getting left behind and replaced for someone better - someone who would actually heed his every word and never argue. Someone who would keep their mouth shut for once. Someone who wouldn’t mind taking order from him forever.

It had been a month since you were living in this limbo, and tonight, the night of the Animal Cruelty Charity Ball to which Iron Man would be making a guest appearance, was when you knew he no longer needed you.

“You’re taking Ryujin…?” you repeated, as you couldn’t believe your ears.

“Yes, so you can go home early if you want,” Minho said as he fixed his bow tie in the giant mirror in his office. He then turned to present to you with an ignorant grin. “How do I look?”

“Why are you taking her?”

“She’s been working hard this past month, so I thought I’d reward her with tonight and have her practice some networking skills.”

“How generous of you,” you mumbled bitterly to yourself.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

“Can you help me put on this chain necklace thing? The clasp is so damn tiny…”

Reluctantly, you helped clasp the silver jewelry. While you thought your boss was heavily admiring himself in the mirror, he instead was focused on you and how your face was uncharacteristically stern.

“Are you ok?” he asked sincerely. He pressed a firm hand to your forehead. “Are you sick?”

You harshly swatted his hand away. “I’m fine.”

He shrugged it off, thinking that you probably had a bad week with all of the boring work he’s been having you deal with. A lot of weird and unsettling energy was pent up inside of you for the past month, so before you exited Minho’s office for the weekend, for some reason you thought this was the appropriate time to speak on it.

“Actually, I’m not fine,” you blurted out. Minho gave you his full attention for the first time that month. “I… I’m putting in my two weeks.”

His eyes went wide. “What?”

“I’m giving you my two weeks notice.”

“Do you have a job lined up?”

“No, but I will figure that out later.”

“You don’t have another job lined up but you want to quit? Where is this coming from?”

He didn’t sound angry. He wasn’t - he was more hurt than anything else that you wanted to leave without a proper explanation. He thought you and him were doing well… What changed so suddenly?

“I can’t do this anymore,” Minho noted how your voice was shaking. “I was fine when you had me staying ungodly hours, I was fine when you had me get you coffee every morning and your dry cleaning every Monday, and I was fine when you involved with the Iron Man project, but now all you’ve given me lately is paperwork and shit that the new hires should be doing and not myself!”

“_____, language -”

“And why is that? Why do I feel like I’m starting to get left behind already, or-or why do I feel like you don’t appreciate anything I do!? It’s clear to me that you’ve already begun to replace me, so what’s the use of me staying here when you don’t want me anymore?”

Minho was silent. You couldn’t tell if he was angry or sad or surprised at your sudden outburst. The tension in the room was suffocating and his silence even more so, like this was his ideal form of psychological torture. Minho didn’t seem to care for your feelings anymore as he turned back to face the mirror.

“Your two weeks has been noted,” was all he said.

You left the room in tears, with your blood still boiling and your heart crushed. But this was a good thing. In the end, this would be a good thing, is what you were trying to tell yourself, because this lifetime wouldn’t let you be with Minho.

Another month passed by and you were left in a worse limbo than you began with a month and a half ago. No one was contacting you about any job offers so you were left to ‘self-reflect’ or some bullshit this self-help book told you to do for the past two weeks. Luckily, all the overtime you put into your savings account had vastly accumulated into an unthinkable sum that would support you far beyond whatever the government noted as a proper unemployment time. Like, you didn’t even know what to do with the money sometimes - thank Minho for time-and-a-half, huh?

On days where you couldn’t help yourself - when you felt like torturing yourself - you would look up Minho on all the tabloid sites. Surprisingly enough, this happened way more than you’d like. Of course, as you speculated, Ryujin had quickly taken your spot as his secretary and God, did you like to shit on how terrible she was! You didn’t have to be at the office to know that Minho must be frustrated with her by the crookedness of his ties and jackets and how she must have forgotten to schedule a salon appointment by the look of his roots and unruly brows.

Ha! That’s what he fucking gets for not being grateful! That dick!

What a shame your relationship with him had come to. To spend what felt like an entire lifetime with him to being complete strangers, it was like you were reborn into this new and fresh carefree person. So carefree that you hummed on the way home with a bag full of fresh produce from the local market.

Perhaps you should have been less carefree, as a stranger snuck up behind you and knocked you out cold.

“Ryujin, where’s my document-signing pen?”

“Um, in your drawer?”

“Which drawer?”

“The one with all the other pens…?”

Minho sighed loudly, running a hand through his curly locks and staring intently at the mess of papers that scattered on his desk. His desk hadn’t been this messy since the first day he started when he had to sign all of those official documents that transitioned him to CEO. The same day when he fell for you.

Ryujin, who was nothing close to a secretary compared to you, was only getting on his nerves these days. Perhaps yes, he’s been a little too harsh on someone who’s still fairly new, but in truth he just didn’t have a way to express his frustration about you leaving all of a sudden. Where had he gone wrong?

“Take the rest of the night off,” he told his subordinate.

The poor girl bowed obediently and scurried out the room.

Another sign left the young man’s lips. This time it was because he was tired. He couldn’t deal with anymore bullshit tonight.

An anonymous FaceTime call rang his phone. Who could be wanting to FaceTime him at such an odd hour of the weeknight?

When he swiped to answer, all he saw was you tied up roughly to a splintered chair with tape covering your mouth. Minho nearly dropped his phone.

“Good evening, Mr. Lee,” a familiar voice sang. From the shadows behind you emerged the fake vigilante that led the invasion of the Charity Ball. “I see that you’re doing well.”

“What do you want?” he demanded quietly.

“I think you know what I want.” A shiny knife drew a line across the other cheek, small drops of blood seeping through and mixing with the dried tears and dirt. Minho’s heart felt like it was collapsing. “A blank check addressed to little ol’ me.”

“If I see another scar on them, I’ll kill you,” he threatened.

The man held his hands up high in defensive mode and took a step away from you. “Fine, I won’t touch them! Just give me what we want near the docks.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Oh, and one more thing - come dressed in Iron Man and I’ll slice their throat. Bye!”

The line cut dead and Minho had no choice but to leave empty-handed with only a blank check in his pocket.

The air inside the enclosed cargo bed was hot and suffocating and your rising panic did not ease your pain or heavy breathing one bit. It didn’t help that the guy and his minions were playing with your hair and playing with their knives, dragging the dull edges on your arms and neck. Normally, you wouldn’t be so weak and crying to the point that the tape around your mouth was loosening up, but life these days was tough and perhaps an event like this, causing Minho major inconvenience once again, was what you deserved.

Scurrying and uneven footsteps were heard from outside and you really, really hoped it was Minho not dressed in Iron Man.

“Here already? He must like you,” the leader teased.

The back of the cargo bed opened up to reveal that the sun had fallen a long time ago and the light of the moon outlined your plain and simple hero. He didn’t give the leader a second passing glance before blindly shoving the blank check to his chest and rushing by your side to untie you. First, he ripped off the tape and you let out loud gasps of air and cries.

Minho’s shaking hands take hold of your face to try to calm you down. “Hey hey, shh, I’m here. Are you ok? Are you hurt?” You shook your head vigorously, whining and trying to break free from the ropes tying you down. “Hold on, I got you.”

Before Minho could untie your hands, one of the minions hit him on the back of his head the same way they knocked you out. But your boss was stronger than that - his head was harder than his iron helmet. At the failed attempt, Minho hurled the guy over his shoulder and out the cargo bed. Your bad ass boss got up like it was nothing, but he was breathing heavily.

Not because he was tired or weak, but because he was furious.

Three more guys tried to kick his ass and it was then you realized that your boss wasn’t just some fake hiding behind an iron suit who could program it to fight. He truly was kicking their ass! Like, raw strength and all! If you weren’t scared to death, you might have thought this was kind of hot. But then Minho punched one of the guys too hard and it sent him flying over to you, to which you fell over and broke the chair. The rope was no longer tied to anything and you were free.

Yet another one of the lame-o sidekicks tried to capture you again, but now you were equally as furious, if not more, than your partner in crime. How dare they sneak up on you and not even give you a chance to fight back!? That was the definition of a weak-ass group of villains! So of course you had to show them a lesson and kick a few balls and some asses. But the number of asses was infinite and you were getting really tired. They had enough people to fight you and Minho until you couldn’t keep up and then they’d kill you easily.

“Mr. Lee, now would be a good time for one of your brilliant plans!” you begged between kicks and breaths.

“Ten seconds tops. But when I say so, I need you to hold my hand, ok?”

“What!? What are you planning!?”

“Just trust me!” You and Minho saw the leader direct the last ten of his minions to finish the job. “Ready? Three… two… one!”

A heavy force on the outside pushed the cargo bed off the edge of the pier and into the ocean with the purpose of drowning everyone in it. The only sensation you felt was ice cold water freezing your blood flow and Minho grasping your hand for dear life while trying to swim up to the surface. Before blacking out from lack of oxygen, you felt the ripples of something entering the ocean and saw a faded red and golden glow of light. Not a second later, a hollowed Iron Man on autopilot rushed you and Minho to the surface and placed you gently on the sand just under the pier. The silent night was filled with a chorus of ugly coughing fits from you and your boss. What a wonderful CEO slash ex-secretary couples activity this turned out to be.

As soon as your breathing returned to a rhythmic beat, a wet, crying, sand-covered Minho held your face in his still-trembling hands. He didn’t say a word - he simply held you and pressed his forehead to yours, making sure that yes, this was real, and not some unconscious dream where he was still in the middle of the ocean drowning. Yes, you were there with him and you were alive.

“Why are you crying? I was the one kidnapped,” you joked, hoping it’d lighten up the mood if but a little bit.

Minho laughed between sniffles and shivers, but couldn’t stop crying. He was smiling, but still crying, and if that didn’t perfectly depict this situation, you’re not sure there’s anything out there that did. Haphazardly, he planted a cold kiss on your forehead before pulling you into a hug.

“I’m so happy you’re ok,” he whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Why? You had nothing to do with this.”

“I’m just sorry in general. I’m sorry I took you for granted. I’m sorry for making you feel like I was replacing you. I’m sorry for not buying you that cappuccino three years ago. I’m sorry for -”

What’s the only way to silence your sexy boss in a heartfelt moment like this that would complete this superhero plot line? Kissing him mid-sentence, of course. You kissed your loving boss fully, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your whole body into it. It took him a while to register that yes, his secretary was definitely kissing him, but once it did, he kissed you even harder, enough to make you fall back onto the grass with him on top of you.

You’re left breathless the moment your lips parted. “I-I, uh, I forgive you…”

“How could you ever think that I could replace you?” he muttered. “I could never. Not in this lifetime.”

“You also said that me and you wouldn’t happen in this lifetime,” you challenged.

“Lifetimes can merge into one, I guess.”

Iron Man returned to Minho’s basement as soon as his job was done, so your favorite driver picked you two up in ten minutes with plush hot towels and dry clothes to change into. The pajamas you wore already had your initials monogrammed over your heart.

“Yeah, uh, about that,” Minho began awkwardly on the car ride home. “I was going to gift them to you a couple Christmases ago, but you said that monogrammed clothing was cheesy and stupid, so I abstained…”

“... They’re not so bad,” you admitted truthfully. “Very soft.”

Coming home to Minho’s felt so wrong, yet so right. You’ve only ever been inside for business reasons, such as redesigning his closets and kitchen pantry, but now that you were here on leisure - well, after almost fucking dying - it was kind of weird. But Minho holding your hand reassured you that you were wanted here - that he needed you here, damp with salt water and all.

“Take a shower upstairs. I’ll go make some tea.”

You gladly obeyed, using your favorite shower that you helped design. The door and the walls of the shower were made of glass and the shower head hung from the ceiling, making your long, hot shower feel like it was raining. Your body was covered in cuts and bruises and it was really ugly, but you’ve never felt more badass and in control in your entire life.

You left the shower smelling like orchids and eucalyptus and entered the kitchen that smelled like ginger and honey. Minho, who had also showered, followed shortly after, stealing a kiss on your cheek that was cut up earlier that evening.

You followed Minho to his giant marble island while he poured tea into white mugs on the other side. This felt so… domestic. This felt so right. This felt like home.

“I have a business proposition for you,” he smirked slyly.

Well, that ruined the moment. “What, no ‘how have you been the past month since I replaced you with some other chick’?”

“I promise I’ll ask that after, but I need to ask you this.” Your hard-headed boss was all giddy just at the idea of it and it was the first time in a whole month since you’ve seen him smile like this. He was so, so cute.

“Fine, what is it?”

“I want to hire you back.”

“Mr. Lee, I already told you, I can’t -”

“As the Head Director of the Iron Man project.”

Your eyes widened at the prestigious title. “Head Director?”

“You stayed by my side through all the criticism and the praise and I can’t imagine a better person for the position.”

“So it’s not just a fancy title for like, super mega ultra secretary, right…?”

Your handsome man chuckled. “No, I promise.”

“Head Director, huh?” your lips slowly spread into a grin. “I like the sound of that.”

“Is that a yes?”

“On a few conditions.”

“Hit me.”

“Higher pay with time-and-a-half.”

“Obviously.”

“I get my own secretary.”

“Only if you don’t fall in love with them like I did.”

You rolled your eyes and continued. “An extra week of vacation.”

“You’re pushing it.”

“Last one. I’m your date to every event from now on.”

Minho raised his eyebrow teasingly. “Oh? And if I say no?”

“Then I say no.”

“Jeez, I’m kidding! So strict. Of course you can, on two conditions.”

“Fine.”

“You call me Minho from now on. Or boyfriend, or soulmate, or sexiest man alive, or whatever suits your fancy.”

“Deal.”

“Second,” Minho leaned in and puckered his pink lips. “Seal this with a kiss.”

You start your new job next week - after Minho cashed in one week of vacation to spend with his soulmate.

#minho #lee minho #lee know #skz #stray kids #lee minho imagines #minho imagines #lee know imagines #lee minho scenarios #minho scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids minho #i still hate the ending idc tho #if i had time i would rewrite it... too sleepy lolol

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showrunnerihardlyknowher · 3 years

Note

You know how we have pet costumes? Give Jacob one, make him a cute space cowboy😈😈😈

WE'RE BACK BABY

Please enjoy this little ficlet (that was actually my 3rd attempt to write a fluffy ficlet for this universe because all the other ones kept becoming future chapters lmao)

“This is humiliating. I look like sheriff Woody or something.”

“Aw, I was thinking more like John Wayne Gacy, you know?”

“The...the clown serial killer…?”

Angie pursed her lips. “Wait, who was the cowboy guy in all the old movies? Like, before Clint Eastwood and whatever.”

“That’s John Wayne. Not John Wayne Gacy,” Jacob tugged at the sleeves of his costume and readjusted his cowhide vest. “And I don’t feel anywhere near as cool as him right now.”

She rolled her eyes and crinkled her nose. “That’s because you’re not cool. You’re a grown man playing dress up with a kindergartener.”

“So are you.”

Angie straightened her Native American headpiece and threw one of her braided pigtails behind her. “Yeah, but I know it’s stupid, so therefore I’m doing it ironically which makes me cool.”

Jacob sighed heavily but didn’t argue further, instead tugging his cowboy hat down further to shield his face that burned with embarrassment. Being forced into having playdates with his captor’s coworker was nothing new. He had spent plenty of time being Mibao’s sole playmate aboard the ship, doing the best he could to keep the six year girl entertained and not too psychologically damaged. Being the youngest in a sibling group of only boys, he was a bit rusty when it came to knowing anything about kids. Thankfully, Mibao was more than happy to take him by the hand and show up all the “fun” things she used to either do back home or what she would now do with her “kitty”.

Today’s game of choice was dress up. Every day felt like dress up when it came to the girl’s ever expanding wardrobe; she was always dressed in an obnoxiously puffy and sparkling princess dress fashioned with ribbons and bows galore and always with a matching crown. Fine, no big deal, he could slap a tiara on his head and call it a day, he’d worn worse at the few fraternity parties he attended during college. Nope, not good enough. Mibao had a very specific game she wanted to play which involved him wearing a cowboy costume of all things. A very realistic and detailed cowboy costume, assless chaps and spurs and all. Again, he could...handle it for the most part. The only thing that really bothered him about it was all the coos and giggles he received from both his and Mibao’s captors when he finally came out in his new outfit.

And he knew for a fact they took many, many pictures of him.

It didn’t end there, Mibao still had more requests. Angie needed to join in as well and she was required to be an “indian princess” to partake. Naturally, she was more than happy to agree if it meant getting a break from the absolute nightmare of a captor she had been saddled with. So, now Jacob had to deal with the fact that she would have to watch him play pretend in this ridiculous getup. He could never catch a break with her, it seemed, she always had to catch him when he was in the middle of doing something cringe worthy. She didn’t even look half as uncomfortable as him and she was literally wearing half as much clothing.

Or maybe that was exactly why she was so comfortable as she sauntered up to him, making a finger pistol to tip his hat away from his face. “Cheer up, partner,” she teased. “I think it makes you look cute.”

“I think it makes me look like Owen Wilson from the museum movie,” Jacob replied, hoping the shadow of the brim hid his reddening cheeks.

“Oh my God, you are a tiny little twink cowboy, huh?”

“I’d rather be the gladiator guy.”

“You wish you could pull off being the gladiator guy.”

A rebuttal was on the tip of his tongue when Mibao made her appearance from behind the monitor where she had been changing. This time instead of her usual princess attire, she was dressed...pretty much the same, only this time she had a tiny pair or iridescent fairy wings attached to the back. What a fairy had to do with cowboys and indians, he hadn’t the faintest idea. She stopped when she saw the two of them and stuck out her tongue in childish disgust.

“Eww, stop kissing!” She scolded. “You can kiss the princess later, Jake, it’s time to play!”

Jacob had never been more grateful in his life that the creatures idly watching them couldn’t understand English because he just might have died if they heard. He could feel the heat radiating from his nape to his cheeks, putting his hands up in defense like it could keep Angie away from him.

“Wh-no! We weren’t, we weren’t kissing, Reagan, w-we-!”

Angie only cackled, her amusement stemming more from Jacob’s panicked response than the actual accusation of giving him a kiss. “Yeah, cowboy, you can kiss me later.” She winked and nudged him with her elbow as she walked past to where Mibao was waiting.

He groaned, tugging the hat down as far as it would go even if that meant obscuring his vision somewhat. That was totally fine, he didn’t want to look at anyone right now and he did not want to be perceived either. The child was leading them back over to her designated play area scattered with art supplies and stuffed toys for where they’ll play their game of make believe. Angie was already sitting on her knees by the time he shuffled over and beckoned him with a sly smile to come take a seat on the ground next to her. Jacob obliged, but refused to give her the satisfaction of seeing his beet red face.

As soon as they were settled, Mibao immediately launched into the exposition of the scene they would be putting on, including their roles and superpowers (that only she had because she was a magical fairy queen). Jacob was only half listening; the kid usually forgot half of her own rules in the middle of playing anyways because she wanted to change the story and it wasn’t that hard to follow her game of make believe. Instead, he kept side-eying Angie, who was side-eying him back, and every time they made eye contact she would smile and bump his shoulder with hers.

This was going to be a long playdate.

The lab door slid open as Talan walked in, peeling off his bloodied gloves to dispose of them in Ylva’s waste bin. “I need my human back.”

“Aw, why? They’re all having a ball together!” Ylva frowned, gesturing to the miniature trio on her desk. Well, the smallest one and Talan’s pet seemed like they were having a good time, namely at the expense of the other human in a hat. They all seemed to stop at the interruption, his human fixing him with a sneer that he was tempted to match.

“What the fuck is it wearing?” He asked, ignoring all the little protests he got when he grabbed it and plucked the stupid looking feather thing of its head. “I thought you said it’s not nice to torment the humans.”

Edix scoffed at him, though his annoyance was more from Talan being in his general vicinity than anything. “It’s not torment. They were having fun.”

Talan did not look convinced in the slightest, his eyes sweeping over the pup who was pouting at him for taking away its playmate and the other who froze any time he breathed in its direction. Like owner, like pet, he assumed as it seemed to unconsciously inch closer to where Edix’s hand was resting for a better sense of security. Pathetic. At least his pet had a bit more self respect and wasn’t afraid to try and stab him in the hand with his own tools. Of course, it got a sharp flick to the stomach to knock it off, but he could appreciate the gumption.

Talan rolled his eyes. “Yeah, looks like a real party. So sad to have missed it.”

“Like you’ve ever been to a party to know what it looks like.”

“Says the one that only hangs out with plants.”

“Okay,” Ylva interjected, rising from her chair and scooping up her adorable little human. “You’re right, we should probably wrap this up, Mibao’s going to need a nap soon and she likes to fight her naps when she’s excited.”

That was all the excuse Talan needed to dip out without a formal goodbye, though it didn’t escape the corner of his eye how Edix’s human took a half step forward when he left, almost like it wanted to say something. Even if it did, he wouldn’t have cared. As quickly as he had intruded, Talan disappeared back down the main hall of the fauna department to return to his lab.

Edix stood up as well and tucked the data pad he had been keeping busy with under his arm to keep his hands free. He couldn’t help but smile at seeing how much closer his little pet was standing to him, even if it wasn’t by much, even though it was caused by Talan of all bastards. A win was a win in his book. The hand the human had been partly hiding behind curled easily around it to lift it up, immediately cradling it to his chest as usual. It squirmed for a moment but settled quick enough, a clear sign it was also ready to go back to the lab it was accustomed to. For a social species, the little one always seemed so drained after any playdate Ylva arranged for their pets. Fine by him, it usually meant his human was much more quiet and well behaved once it was back in the solitude of Edix’s company, making for an easier work day.

He used his finger to tilt back the wide brimmed hat it had been using to hide its sweet little face a majority of the playdate, earning him a surprised squeak. With the way its baby cheeks were turning an adorable shade of pink, Edix had a fairly good guess as to why it was trying to avoid everyone’s line of sight. Damn, he should have had Ylva take more pictures, this was way too cute for him. It reached up to quickly pull its shield back down and Edix let it with a laugh, cooing as he tugged at its little vest instead which only made it wriggle in distress. Overdramatic little thing.

“Can I keep this costume?” He asked as he followed behind Ylva who was preparing to put her own pup down for a nap. In reality, it meant she was going to have to play with it for at least another half an hour because, much like him, she was a sucker when it came to her human wanting to play. The difference being that Mibao wanted to do anything from coloring to singing to continuing its game of make believe while Edix’s pet always wanted to play chase.

Ylva smiled and shrugged. “Sure, I mean, it’s not like it’s going to fit the baby. It was printed for its measurements specifically, anyways.” Mibao was proving to be difficult in its refusal to relinquish the shiny wings Ylva had designed at its request, something that Ylva quickly made a game out of by setting her pup on the desk and letting it squeal and run while her hands chased after it. That would tire the kid out in no time. She looked back at his human and giggled. “I don’t think it likes it very much, though.”

Oh yeah, that was obvious from the get go, but it didn’t change the fact that it was way too precious for its own good in this type of outfit. Edix actually quite liked the contrast of the dark brown against its pale skin, even more given the fact that it matched the color of its doe eyes perfectly. It was much more appealing than that splotchy green jacket it was inexplicably attached to. He had a feeling it was going to try and strip out of this outfit as soon as it was back in Edix’s lab, provided he gave it its normal suit and jacket to change into. But...maybe he didn’t have to offer it its spare set of clothes right away. Maybe it would just have to hang around in its little boots and hat for a couple hours longer while he finished up his latest report that was just so important to get done. And maybe he would get constantly distracted by how cute it looked while it was definitely pouting at him for not taking off its costume that it took a little longer than usual to finish his work, which meant it spent even longer pouting under its hat.

Decisions, decisions.

Edix waved his hand dismissively. “It’ll learn to love it.”

“Oh, Eddie, don’t be mean to it,” Ylva laughed, not that seemed bothered by the idea of his pet keeping the outfit on for an extended period of time beyond the playdate. “But send pictures if you do.”

#ask #anon #my writing #g/t writing #g/t fluff #g/t ocs #g/t #giant/tiny #gianttiny #macro/micro #gt #please enjoy ficlet mommy buy for u #ive missed them so much #now we just gotta finish chapter 3 and we're really rockin n rollin #also yes angie likes teasing jacob for obviously having a crush on her #and ALSO YES i forgot angie has short hair so we're gonna pretend its because shes been in captivity for so long that it just grew out #and thats how she could braid it #talan simps rejoice for he is here #unfortunately

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temilyrights · 3 years

Text

a christmas to remember

Summary: Jack Sloane x Reader. Jack invites you to join her for Christmas after you miss your flight home.

A/N: It’s done. It’s finally done. I don’t think I’ve ever been so stressed out trying to get a fic done. I’ve been feeling pretty rough mentally the last month so writing pure fluff was difficult ahaha. You can all thank @strongsassysexysloane for the idea! She’s the one that sent it to me. Sorry it’s a little late but I did manage to get it out before new years so I guess that’s something.

Read on AO3

It’s nearing seven o’clock when Jack finishes packing up for the day. Usually, she’d consider that early, but it was Christmas Eve and she’d spent the whole day drowning in paperwork. Last-minute evals for cases and finishing up the yearly NCIS staff review meant she was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go home and soak in the tub with a glass of wine. She knew Gibbs’ team had closed their case around midday so when she descends the stairs to leave, she’s surprised to see you still at your desk.

She almost misses you. You’re slumped over, head resting on your desk and from the looks of it, you had been asleep for a while. The desk lamp was still on, and a YouTube video was playing from the computer. The case the last few days had been exhausting so she’s not surprised you’re knackered, but she was sure you were meant to be on your way home to see your family.

She stands there for a period of time that should probably be considered creepy, watching your soft mumbles and enjoying the rare sight of you looking so peaceful. She smiles to herself, and then quietly speaks your name, “Y/N.” No response. She gently shakes your arm, “Y/N. It’s time to wake up.”

“Go away,” You mumble, barely conscious.

Jack laughs, and softly strokes your hair, “Come on sleepy head.”

“Breakfast later. I promise.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.” She smirks and steps back. There was an easy way to get you up. “You’re going to be late for work.”

It does the trick. You practically shoot up in your chair. Jack grasps your elbow to steady you as you manically look around the room and catch your bearings. “Huh? What?” Understanding settles in a moment later and a light blush coats your cheeks. “Oh.”

Jack drops your elbow and steps back, chuckling, “I thought I probably shouldn’t leave you to sleep here the entire night.”

“Thanks.” You mumble, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“It was a long case.” She nods in understanding. Jack hadn’t been involved much apart from a couple of evals, but she’d seen how worn down it had left the whole team. She’d been so swamped with her own work she hadn’t had time to check in on anyone. “I thought the team left around lunchtime?”

“They did. I had paperwork to finish.” You shrug and begin packing away your things.

Jack pointedly looks to the paused YouTube video on your computer that definitely wasn’t related to work. “Aren’t you meant to be going to see your family?”

Your face drops, “I missed the flight. Next one out isn’t until the 26th.”

Jack’s sighs, and squeezes your hand, “Oh, Y/N, I’m sorry.” You had been talking about going home all month. You’d told her in detail about the L/N’s family Christmas traditions. She hated the idea you were going to miss out on so much.

“It’s why I’m still here. Didn’t really feel like going home.”

“You could have come and visited me. You know my doors always open to you.” She shakes your hand slightly before letting go.

“I thought you’d already left to be honest.”

“I wish.” She rolls her eyes, “I wanted to get the staff review done.”

You quirk a brow, smirking, “Did I pass?”

She huffs, eyes light with humour, “With flying colours. Apparently, it’s not appropriate to fail someone on account of them being an absolute pain in the ass.”

“Hmm, good thing really, otherwise Gibbs would have been fired years ago.”

You jump out the way before Jack can swat you on the arm. Both of you dissolve into laughter.

“So, what are your plans for tomorrow then?” Jack asks after you’ve calmed down and are making your way to the elevator.

You shrug, “Don’t have any. I’ll just celebrate on the 26th.”

She comes to a halt in disbelief, “You’re not going to go anything?”

“Watch a Christmas film and catch up on all the chores I’ve been neglecting I guess.”

“Nuh-uh. There’s no way you’re spending Christmas day doing chores! Come spend the day with me instead.”

Your mouth drops open, “W-what? I couldn’t-”

“Apart from baking cookies, I don’t have any plans for the daytime. I’m going to Faith’s for dinner, but we can still spend the morning together.”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not intruding. In fact, I'm actually insisting.”

“Jack��”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Unless you’d rather spend the day being miserable?”

A small smile spreads across your face, and you nod. “Okay.”

“Okay!” Jack grins, jumping on the balls of her feet. “Be at mine at 0800 hours with the breakfast you promised me.” She winks, and steps forward, hitting the button for the elevator.

“Breakfast?” You frown, “When did I promise you breakfast?”

----

“Merry Christmas, Jack!” You grin as she opens her front door.

“Cute hat.” She laughs, stepping back to allow you to enter. She makes sure to flick the white pom-pom on the end of the Santa hat as you pass.

“Thanks.” Jack accepts the bag of diner food, while you take your coat and shoes off. “Sorry, I’m a little late. The diner was busier than I expected. Elaine told me to tell you ‘Merry Christmas’ by the way. I can’t believe you’ve been here the shortest time out of everyone, bar Kasie, and yet somehow you’re her favourite.”

Jack laughs as she makes her way to the kitchen where she already has plates laid out. She begins to dish up the food as you take a seat. “Not my fault I’m a people person, and anyway Gibbs is her favourite.”

You roll your eyes, “True but second place is bloody impressive considering he’s been around over twenty years and you’ve only been here three.”

Jack hums and takes the seat next to you. “You can just admit you’re jealous.”

“I’m not hiding that fact. I’ve been here for seven years and you don’t see me getting free food.”

“Free?”

“‘Christmas with Jacqueline? How sweet. Coffee's on the house.’” You mimic, taking a sip of said drink.

“So, you got free coffee too?”

You huff, “That’s not the point I’m making.”

Jack laughs, “But it’s the point you made. And anyway, she likes you. She always makes a point to ask me how you’re doing whenever I go in there.”

“And she always asks me about you.” You smile softly and Jack’s heart thumps in her chest.

She clears her throat, dropping her eyes to her food. “Let’s eat. We can spend the rest of the day squabbling over who Elaine likes best if you want but for now, I really want this bacon in my belly before it gets cold.”

You laugh and begin to dig into your own food.

After breakfast is finished and cleared away, you goad Jack into a game of cards. You’re always so cocky and competitive when it comes to games, so she spends the whole time teasing you and trying not to laugh at your serious concentration.

What makes it worse is that she always wins, but it’s not her fault you were ridiculously easy to read. Honestly, for an agent your poker face was terrible.

“Now I've whipped your ass, can we go make cookies?”

“Are you gonna cheat at that too?” You snark as you clean up the cards.

Jack arches a brow as humour dances in her eyes, “Someone’s a sore loser.”

“I’m not a-”

“Uh-huh. Sure.” She leaves you cleaning up and makes her way to the kitchen, ignoring the daggers you were glaring into her back.

----

“Jack?” You call. She hums but doesn’t turn around, too focused on measuring out the ingredients in front of her. She feels you come up behind her, face poking over her shoulder.

“Can I help you?” She chuckles and places the bag of sugar back down. Her breath catches when she turns to look at you. You’re so close, and Jack watches as your eyelashes flutter and can’t help the way her eyes momentarily fall to your lips. She jumps when suddenly you flick flour in her face. She coughs, “What the hell, Y/N!”

You dissolve into laughter, stumbling backwards, and Jack rolls her eyes and wipes the flour from her face. She grabs the bag of flour from the counter before turning to face you with a raised brow, “Oh, you wanna play huh?”

Your face drops, as she saunters over with a devilish smirk. “You wouldn’t dare.” You shake your head, leaning against the wall.

“Try me.” She grabs a pinch of flour and before you can move, flicks it at you.

“Satisfied?” You laugh, wiping it from your cheeks.

“Not even close.” She lifts the flour bag higher and you quickly run out of the way screaming.

“Don’t you dare! You’ll ruin my jumper.”

She wouldn’t but it was fun to make you think so solely to see the panic crossing your face. Although, it would also be a good way of getting you out of your clothes. Jacqueline. She curses herself.

“Fine, but just know this isn’t the end.” She says with a playful glare. You sigh in relief, shoulders slumping slightly as Jack returns the flour to the counter. “Now do you fancy helping me with these cookies?”

You murmur something Jack doesn’t quite catch, and she looks to you with a frown, “What was that?”

“Nothing!” You grin innocently, quickly making your way to the counter, “What can I do to help?”

She stares at you for a moment but decides not to push further. “How about you start mixing everything together while I measure out the remaining ingredients.”

“Yes, boss.” You nod, mock saluting.

Jack flicks flour at you again.

----

“Sorry about that,” Jack says as she enters the living room, returning to her seat next to you on the couch.

You quickly swallow down a mouthful of cookie. Jack refrains from commenting on the fact you’d managed to eat half the plate in the space of a ten-minute phone call. “Is Faith okay?”

The soft smile that always lights up Jack’s face whenever Faith is mentioned appears, “Yes, she was just asking if I could pick some carrots up for this evening. She forgot to get some, and between the hospital and the pregnancy everything has been a little manic.”

“I can only imagine.” You hum.

“She’s also invited you to join us tonight.”

Your face drops in surprise, “What? Really? Why?”

“She said no one should be alone on Christmas, and I agree so please come.”

You chuckle, “I’ve spent the whole day with you. I’m not alone. Anyway, I don’t want to intrude on your time with Faith.”

Jack reaches out and squeezes your hand. “Her fiancé, Andrew, will be there too. It’ll be fun, and you’ll finally get the chance to meet her.” It makes her nervous as hell, but god did she want the two of you to meet each other. You still look uncertain, so her face softens, and she squeezes your hand again, “Please? It would mean a lot to me if you came.”

“You’re sure?”

She nods.

“Okay then.” You agree as your face breaks out into a grin.

Jack grins back and squeezes your hand one last time before letting go. “Yay!”

You chuckle, nodding your head towards the television, “Can we get back to the movie now?”

“Yes.” She sinks back into the couch and grabs the blanket you were currently using, to cover her legs.

“Hey, don’t steal it all.” You protest, already moving closer so the blanket was covering you too.

And, well, if she ends up drifting off at some point, snuggling into your shoulder...neither one of you comment on it.

----

She wasn’t really sure what she’d expected when Faith had invited you to join tonight, but she knows it wasn’t this. She hadn’t dared let herself hope for this…

Because you fit in perfectly. Jack watched as you told Andrew about a case from the other month, he was hanging off every word while Faith tried not to laugh at her fiancé’s expression, instead shooting Jack an affectionate eye-roll from where she sits opposite her.

“So, then Nick comes storming in ready to kick some ass and I’ve already got the three guys on the floor and handcuffed.”

“On your own?” Andrew asks in wonder.

“Well, I mean Gibbs was there too but that’s beside the point.” You huff. Everyone starts laughing. You laugh along too and pick up your wine glass to take a sip.

“This is delicious by the way.” Jack hums, taking another bite of food. Faith and Andrew had made enough food to supply a small army. She had no idea how they’d managed it, especially considering their small kitchen.

“Best Christmas dinner I've had in a long time.” You nod along, as Faith’s cheeks tinge pink from the praise and Andrew smiles brightly.

She chuckles bashfully, “Thank you. It was nothing, really.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, babe. You put in a lot of work for today.” Andrew says, squeezing Faith’s hand from where he sat beside her.

Jack turns to you and is surprised to find you already watching her with a soft smile. Jack frowns slightly, “You okay?” She asks quietly as Faith and Andrew continue talking to each other.

You nod, “I’m good. Great actually. Thank you for letting me join today.”

Her face softens, and she reaches over and gently squeezes your knee, “Thank you for coming. I couldn’t choose a better group of people to share the day with.”

A light blush covers your cheeks and you quickly duck your head in an attempt to hide it, but Jack catches it. The sight makes her smile more, and she squeezes your knee one more time before letting go and returning to her meal.

After dinner, there’s more wine and a game of charades. Turns out Andrew is amazing, even with alcohol in his system. He and Faith guess the majority of each other’s charades within a minute. Meaning it’s mainly the two of them going back and forth while Jack and you sit on the couch and try to keep up.

“I feel we are at a disadvantage here.” You huff.

“Definitely.” Jack laughs.

“Are you guys ready?” Faith asks as she grabs a piece of paper out of the bowl. She reads the paper, a small smile spreading across her face as she shoves it into her cardigan pocket. “Okay.”

She holds up seven fingers and you and Andrew both instantly shoot up from the couch, shouting in unison, “The lion, the witch, and the wardrobe!”

Faith’s mouth drops open in disbelief, “Yes, but how?”

The competitive glint is back in your eye and Andrew instantly backs away, hands up in surrender, “You can have the go. I’m not arguing with a woman who has a gun.”

“Don’t worry Andrew, she’s all bark and no bite,” Jack smirks. Faith starts laughing as she returns to the lounge chair.

You arch a brow, turning back to face her. “I can bite if you want me to.”

Jack rolls her eyes and takes another sip of wine in hopes that no one will notice the slight pink tinge to her cheeks.

Andrew laughs. “I’m currently in a room with three women that could kill me if they were so inclined, I think I’m going to let you take this one.” He hands you the bowl of paper and moves to take the seat next to Jack.

“Suddenly rethinking your career choice, dear?” Faith laughs.

“Oh no.” He shakes his head, “I’m very happy spending my days counting numbers, thank you very much.”

Jack smothers a laugh when she sees your face scrunch up like it always did when someone mentioned maths. “Andrew, I think you should give Y/N a maths lesson.” She teases. Your head instantly snaps to her, and you send a glare so icy she’s surprised she isn’t frozen in place.

“Oh, I’d happily do that if-”

“No, no, no. Thank you, Andy, but that’s definitely not necessary.” You quickly cut him off.

Andrew chuckles, and nods. “Fair enough. And Jack?”

She hums.

“How many more times do I have to tell you to please call me Andy? Or should I start calling you Jacqueline?”

She laughs and dips her head. “Right, sorry. Andy.” When she looks back up, you’re watching her with twinkling eyes. Jack clears her throat, “Back to charades?”

----

“Again, thank you so much for inviting us tonight. It’s been amazing.” Jack says as she slips her coat back on.

Faith smiles warmly, “I’m really glad you came, and it was nice to finally meet Y/N.” They both turn to look at you, still excitedly talking to Andrew. “You should bring her with you the next time we do something.”

Jack’s brows raise in shock as she turns back to look at Faith, who’s smirking knowingly. “Really?”

“Yeah. I feel Andy’s probably got another fifty questions he wants to ask about what it’s like being an agent.”

Jack cackles at that, earning her the attention of you.

“What’s so funny?” You ask, coming up to stand beside her, lightly bumping into her side.

“Oh, nothing.” Jack hums innocently. Your eyes narrow and a playful smirk tugs at your lips. Instead of pushing further, you turn to Faith.

“Thank you for including me in your Christmas.”

“It was great to finally meet you.”

“And you. And Andy.” You say, smiling at him as he wraps an arm around Faith’s waist.

“Are you sure we can’t order you a cab?”

You shake your head, grinning, “Nope, It’s all good.”

Jack still doesn’t know why you aren’t. She lived at least a twenty-minute drive away, which meant probably over an hour's walk and there was no way the two of you were doing that this late at night, with alcohol in your system, and when there was a fresh layer of snow outside.

She follows your lead though and links your arms together as you wave goodbye to Faith and Andrew and make your way down their driveway.

“Care to inform me where we are going yet?”

“Where’s the fun in that?�� You tease.

Jack shakes her head with a small chuckle and leans in closer to you to protect herself from the frosty air. She’s incredibly grateful she’d been smart enough to remember her gloves, hat, and scarf.

The two of you walk in comfortable silence for a while, enjoying the crunch of the snow beneath your feet, and taking in the stars in the sky. You grow tenser as you walk, Jack’s concerned something is wrong until she turns to look at you and finds you grinning.

She’s curious, but ten minutes later her curiosity is answered when you turn onto a street that instantly causes Jack to come to a halt. “Oh wow.” She sighs in wonder. Every house on the street is decorated in bright Christmas lights. It’s breathtaking.

You turn to her with a bright smile, shrugging lightly, “I know you love Christmas lights, and I just wanted to say thank you for today. It has meant everything to me.”

Her eyes flick from the lights to you. She squeezes your hand tightly and resists the overwhelming urge to pull you in for a kiss. “You, Y/N L/N, are an astonishing human being. I…” She trails off, eyes flicking between the lights and you as emotions swirl in her throat.

“Come on.” You smile, tugging her forward. Jack sighs and follows along. Eyes bright as she takes in the beautiful displays. Your eyes track her the whole time.

----

“That was beautiful.” Jack sighs once you reach the end of the street. You both continue walking, arms still linked together. “I’ve been wanting to go on a Christmas light drive this whole month but didn’t have the time, and this completely made up for it.”

It was one of the only Christmas traditions she had kept from her childhood. Doing it always brought back happy memories and helped to get her into the Christmas spirit.

“Oh wow, I haven’t gone on a Christmas light drive since I was a kid.” You smile, remembering your own childhood.

“Maybe next year we can do one together? It’s nicer with company.”

“I’d like that.” Your cheeks turn a light pink and Jack can’t tell if it’s from her offer or the frosty air.

“It would be a lot warmer too. I wouldn’t have to freeze my tits off.” She chuckles. Your eyes fall to her chest which is hidden by a number of layers of clothes and linger for long enough that Jack catches you. She smirks to herself, already knowing your thoughts weren’t PG. “Eyes are up here Y/N.”

Your head snaps up, your cheeks turning a vibrant red. “Hm? I was just admiring your scarf. It’s nice.”

Her lips twitch, almost proud of your quick excuse. “It was my present from Kasie on her random gift day this year.”

You nod, “Good choice.”

It really was. She’d been sceptical about the rainbow patchwork when Kasie had first given it to her as it was something she’d have never picked out for herself, but now it was easily her favourite. The bright colours always cheered her up every time she wrapped it around her neck.

“Kasie’s great at picking out presents.” She could tease you more, she liked seeing you blush, but it was just too easy. “So, where are we off to next?”

“Oh, well, I don’t live too far away. I thought maybe we could go back to mine and warm up with some hot chocolate?” You bite your lip, not quite meeting Jack’s eyes.

She’s surprised at your hesitancy, and bumps her shoulder against yours, “Hot chocolate? You know I’m in.”

Fifteen minutes later she’s making her way up the pavement to your apartment. The cold had officially reached her bones and her teeth were chattering as she entered the lobby.

“As nice as that was, I vote against walking half an hour in the peak of winter again. Next time, we uber.”

You laugh as you take off your hat, shaking the snow from it. “It wasn’t too bad.”

She rolls her eyes, and reaches for one of your hands, tugging the glove off, “Take your glove off, touch my cheek and tell me that again.”

You touch her cheek but quickly pull your hand away again, “You’re freezing! Come on, let’s get you warmed up.” You grab her hand, and tug her along behind you, walking at a much faster pace than beforehand.

“I’m not going to freeze to death, we don’t need to rush.” Jack laughs, pulling you back to slow you down. She pulls harder than she intended though because you practically snap back into her arms. Her eyes fall to your lips, lingering for a moment too long. You clear your throat and Jack expects you to step away, but you don’t.

“I’ve really enjoyed today.” You say quietly.

“I hope it has made up for missing Christmas with your family.”

You chuckle, looking at Jack with a guilty smile “Is it bad to say I’m actually glad I missed my flight?”

“Only if it’s bad for me to say I’m grateful you missed your flight too.” She tilts on her feet, and carefully reaches for your hand. This time your eyes fall to her lips before you quickly look away. Jack smiles softly, “I couldn’t have asked for a better Christmas. It’s been almost perfect.”

“Almost?”

Jack’s eyes flick up, and it’s then she notices the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling above you. “Yeah, almost.” She breathes.

You follow her eye line, “Oh.”

She looks back to you, and hesitantly the hand-linked in yours moves to run up your arm before softly cupping your cheek. “Yes, oh.”

Your eyes flick between hers and her lips, and your tongue swipes out to moisten your own lips, “Let's make it perfect then.”

She smiles softly and gently guides your face closer. Her eyes track your glistening lips, before flicking to your eyes. “You’re sure?”

“Never been so sure of anything.”

That’s all she needs. And Jack finally does what she’s been fantasizing about doing for months - she kisses you. It starts off slowly, a gentle exploration, but it isn’t long before the kisses begin to heat up. Your hands grip at her waist, and she pushes herself in closer to you, removing the final bit of space.

She only pulls back when breathing becomes difficult. Your foreheads rest together as you both catch your breath. “This is definitely a Christmas to remember.”

You hum, “I think it might be my favourite.”

She kisses you again. It’s meant to be a short peck, but she quickly loses herself in it and it’s not until she hears a door open from behind her that she slowly pulls away.

You stare at her for a moment, a happy smile on your face before you look over her shoulder at the intruder. Your cheeks turn a slight pink as you nod and mutter “Merry Christmas.”

Jack looks at the older woman who she recognises as being one of your neighbours, and smiles brightly, “Merry Christmas.”

The woman shakes her head with a soft laugh, “Merry Christmas, dears. Have a good evening.”

“And you.” Jack nods. Only once the woman has walked off down a corridor does she turn back to you.

You immediately groan and drop your head to her shoulder, “I did not just get caught making out like a teenager by my neighbour!”

“Could be worse. We could have been half undressed.”

Jack actually sees your brain short circuit.

“Uh, yeah, yeah, true. We could’ve been.” You clear your throat, “Uh, so, hot chocolate?”

“Are you sure we need it?” She definitely wasn’t feeling cold anymore.

You roll your eyes, smirking. “Okay, no hot chocolate, but are you still coming in?” You lean in and whisper into her ear, “I’m sure there’s something else we could do.”

Her eyes fall shut. She wants nothing more but… “If I come in, I won’t be leaving tonight, and don’t you have an early flight tomorrow?”

You pull back to meet her eyes, “Not until 11 and it’s a short drive there which means there will even be time for breakfast. I'll make you pancakes.”

Jack hums, “Your pancakes are very good…”

“Please.” You whine before pecking her lips. You begin to leave a trail of kisses along her jawline muttering please after each one. If it weren’t for the scarf, you’d be attacking her neck.

Jack teeters as her breath becomes shallow. Her whole body was drawn to you. It always had been, and she could finally live out the dreams she’d been having for months. “Yes.”

You place a final kiss against her lips before pulling back with a proud smirk. Jack rolls her eyes, “Shut it.”

“Didn’t say anything.”

“Smugness isn’t a good look on you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about because every look is a good look for me.”

Jack laughs and shakes her head with mock disapproval. “Are you going to take me to yours or just make comments the whole night instead?”

You hum, pretending to think it over.

“I mean if you want I can just go home and take care of myself.” She arches a brow with her own cocky smirk as your eyes flash with desire. You capture her lips in a searing kiss, which quickly has her smirk fading away and her moaning into your mouth. “Okay. No more games. Bed now.” She mutters between a kiss.

You nod, dragging her towards the direction of your apartment, the two of you never separating for more than a couple of seconds. You bash into the wall and if Jack’s sole intention wasn’t getting you into a bed, she might have felt bad for your neighbours.

Jack loosens the scarf around your neck to gain access and begins to leave a trail of kisses while you struggle to open your apartment door. “Jack, you’re making this difficult.” You whine, but it quickly changes to a sigh when she hits a particular spot. “Jack, please.”

“Please what?” She breathes.

“Stop for two seconds so I can get us inside and then you can do whatever you want.”

She pulls back, eyes black with desire. You unlock the door and before you can push it open, Jack’s pushing you backwards into the room, carelessly kicking the door shut behind her and capturing your lips in a kiss that has you weak in the knees.

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” She breathes against your lips.

“Merry Christmas, Jack.”

“Now, I think there’s a bedroom you need to show me.”

Giggling you drag her in the direction of your room.

It was definitely a Christmas to remember.

#jack sloane x reader #jack sloane #jacqueline sloane #ncis #a christmas to remember #fic #fanfiction #writing #regal-roni #reader-insert #fluff

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cake-writes · 5 years

Note

Can we get a stucky/reader on her period and them comforting her and finally convincing her that an orgasm can help alleviate cramps but she’s so embarrassed and they are so sweet about it

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: smut (oral, fingering), blood mention, 18+

Despite the large heating pad covering your stomach and upper thighs, your cramps were still uncomfortable as all hell. Your period had come overnight, and you were not a happy camper. Not only was the heat not doing anything to alleviate the ache in your abdomen, but the painkillers weren’t working, either. Fantastic.

You wanted nothing more than to stay curled up in bed with your boys, buried in your sheets, all soft and warm and snuggly. Luckily, all of your meetings were in the afternoon today, so you had plenty of time to sleep in and relax – if you could manage to.

Unfortunately, that was proving to be pretty damn difficult.

“Let us help you,” Steve breathed into your ear, sending pleasant chills down your spine. “It hurts, doesn’t it?”

It was a statement, not a question.

You half-frowned, half-pouted at him for a moment or two until Bucky’s hands slowly encircled one of your feet. When you shot him a warning look, he just offered a too-innocent shrug before his thumbs gently pressed into the arch of your foot, to which you let out an audible groan.

“That’s not fair,” you whined, wanting to resist, but your body betrayed you regardless. Your head lulled back against Steve’s arm around your shoulders, eyelids fluttering shut as Bucky massaged you into submission.

“All’s fair in love and war, sweetheart,” Bucky teased, slowly sliding his hands up to your calf. The sharp contrast between the cold metal and warm flesh kept you well-aware of every single one of his movements.

Relaxation was the end goal, of course, but your boys had a very different idea of how to get you there. Both plans involved a bed, but where yours was to go back to sleep, theirs was to thoroughly tire you out first. The problem was that you felt incredibly unattractive in a worn t-shirt and pajama shorts – not to mention the ugly underwear underneath, the ones you reserved for this time of the month. It was embarrassing.

You huffed a little in response, but you spread your legs anyway, just enough for Bucky to have the access he needed to massage higher if he so chose. Right now, though, he was happy to tease. Of course he was.

Steve pulled the heating pad away, and when you went to object he lay his hand in the same spot, on your abdomen. His palm radiated heat, just like the rest of him and you squirmed a little at the feeling. His touch was much nicer than a heating pad.

“It’s messy,” you mumbled, but when Bucky switched legs, you let out a soft, contented sigh.

“We’ll lay a towel down,” Steve murmured into your hair, his fingertips slipping just slightly under the waistband of your shorts – hinting at what he wanted to do to you. “It might help your cramps.”

That was when you felt Bucky’s lips start to follow his hands up your leg. It was definitely becoming harder and harder to resist by the second.

“It’s embarrassing,” was your next excuse, more for show than an actual objection. You didn’t need much more convincing, not with them both pampering you like this.

“You’re beautiful,” Steve responded honestly, palming the soft skin of your abdomen before he moved his hand upwards, under your t-shirt. He skimmed your side on his way up, and then his fingers brushed against your nipple, already pebbled from excitement. “Let us take care of you.”

When you chewed your lip, still hesitant, Bucky pressed a kiss to the soft skin of your inner thigh. “Wanna make you feel good, baby.”

“Fine,” you grumbled, but inwardly you were flattered that they were paying so much attention to you – especially now, when you were feeling so bloated and unappealing.

With a cheeky grin, Bucky left another quick kiss on your thigh before his fingers hooked in the waistband of your shorts. He tugged them off, along with your underwear and you thanked fuck you’d just taken a shower.

Even so, you could still immediately smell the slight tang of blood in the air. With their enhanced senses, there was no way that they couldn’t, too. Your face heated up in an instant. How on earth could they want to do this with you right now?

“Hey,” Steve said gently, pulling you out of your nervous thoughts. “Stop worrying. It’s okay.”

There was a slight hint of command in his voice, however, and you glanced up at him in surprise to find that his tone didn’t match the expression on his face at all. No, he was looking at you so tenderly, his free hand coming up to smooth a stray lock of hair away from your flushed cheeks.

Then he finally brought his lips to yours, sweet and gentle. You lost yourself in him, and for a moment, you forgot why you were embarrassed to begin with. The only thing you could focus on was Steve, his lips, his tongue as he kissed the breath out of you, like nothing else mattered but your pleasure.

You quickly found that it was just a distraction, because you felt Bucky spread you open with his thumbs just before he ran the flat of his tongue against your clit. Your whimper was quickly muffled by Steve’s kiss, but as mortified as you should have been by the entire ordeal, you weren’t. You’d just taken a shower, after all, and Bucky made a point to focus solely on your bundle of nerves, nose buried in your soft curls.

One of Bucky’s metal fingers slid inside of you, then, and your hand flew down to grip his hair almost on instinct. One good thing about this was that you didn’t need any extra lubrication; you already had plenty. One finger was quickly replaced by two, and then he crooked them against your g-spot, ripping an ungraceful moan from your throat.

“Good girl,” he praised, breath hot against your slick folds.

You broke away from Steve’s kiss to whine, “Stop teasing me.”

Steve’s soft laughter reverberated in your ears as Bucky’s brows rose at your sassing.

“I thought you didn’t want this,” Bucky teased, gently bringing his thumb to your clit, to which your hips jerked just a little from the sudden cold contact.

“Well, I do now,” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. “You’re the ones who—”

Your sentence was promptly cut off with a gasp when Bucky delved right back in a bit more roughly this time, causing your head to fall back against Steve’s shoulder – sweet, gentle Steve who started to whisper the dirtiest things imaginable into your ear, how much he wanted to fuck you like this, make you come for him while you repaid the favour with Bucky’s cock down your throat.

You didn’t care that it was messy anymore, so focused on your impending orgasm. Your mind was blank aside from the wonderful fantasies that Steve’s dirty talk provided, fantasies that you suddenly had every intention of fulfilling once Bucky had his fill.

“God, I’m gonna—” you stammered, back arching, fingers tightening in Bucky’s hair as he fucked you with his own, hard and rough on your g-spot in just the way you liked. His tongue swirled around your clit, over and over in an attempt to finally push you over the edge. “I’m— fuck—”

“Come for us,” Steve encouraged you, pressing kisses to your jawline. The coil in your abdomen wound tighter and tighter until you finally shattered with a sharp, strangled cry, waves of pleasure cascading over you. “That’s it. There you go.”

Chest heaving, you cracked your eyes open to see Bucky grinning up at you in between your legs, looking every bit like the cat who got the cream. “How’d that feel, gorgeous?”

You pouted a little, playing hard-to-get. “It was fine. I guess.”

Your breathy tone made it pretty obvious that it was more than just fine.

“You guess? Looks like I’m gonna have to try harder, then.”

Bucky’s eyes shone with amusement as he came up to kiss you full on the mouth. It was messy, his tongue parting your lips to dominate every inch of you and although you could taste yourself, just as you usually could, there wasn’t a coppery tang like you expected there to be. Then, when he finally pulled away, he kissed your cheek and got to his feet.

“Definitely gonna need that towel, though.”

That was what drew your attention to his hand and – yeah, he wasn’t kidding. Your eyes followed him as he left the room, anxiety cropping up once again until Steve hooked his fingers under your chin and turned your face toward him.

“You have nothing to worry about,” he said softly, thumb tracing your cheekbone. “It’s just blood, baby. We’ve seen a hell of a lot worse.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong, there. You also knew that Steve would never lie to you.

“Okay,” you told him, smiling just a little, just before a fluffy towel hit the two of you right in the face. You groaned. “Buck, I swear to god.”

“You already did that, sweetheart,” Bucky replied cheekily, kissing the top of your head. “Go on, lay it out. Meeting’s not for another three hours.”

The wary look you gave both of your boys at that made them stifle a laugh.

If you were going to have another three hours of this, you sure as hell weren’t going to make it your meeting. You’d be too wiped out.

Maybe that was their plan all along.

#stucky x reader #stucky x you #stucky saturdays #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x you x bucky barnes #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #captain america #avengers #mcu

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imjustalonesomewriteblr · 3 years

Text

Prologue

Word Count: 2,071

Warnings: Mild cursing, I forgot to take people’s advice so this chapter is sort of wordy and rambles on.

Half a week behind schedule, Chapter One is finally here and it has not been proofread! It’s basically just the volunteers having conversation by the lake, but there is some information and foreshadowing/symbolism (maybe? I’m bad at foreshadowing/symbolism) that’s worth knowing!

If a stranger had looked at the former guesthouse’s back porch that Tuesday evening, they would have thought they were looking at a 1900s costume party.

Léonie was in her usual spot atop the tree branch that hung over the porch. She had the best view of the lake from the tree and her sketchpad laid perfectly against the main trunk. Her yellow dress was worn down from the hours she spent perched in the tree and the white dots were barely distinguishable from the yellow fabric.

“I don’t see why you don’t just wear pants,” Florette mumbled, taking a sip of the weak beer Mr. Steinberg had bought her. Florette was the only one that was not dressed as if she was back home. Instead of the dainty dresses of the 1940s, she wore black leggings, a flannel shirt, and tennis shoes with worn-out soles. Sunglasses failed to cover the scar on her left eye. She had had it for a while now, but she never failed to be self-conscious of it. Florette was situated on an old foldout chair under Léonie’s tree. Danilo had found the chair in the lake one day and they had cleaned it as best they could. They weren’t very good upholsterers, though, so the chair could not support anyone but Florette.

“I like dresses,” Léonie said, “They are more comfortable.”

“You look like a sissy, Leo,” Florette chuckled to herself.

“Thank you, Florette,” Léonie said, “You look nice, too.”

“I never said you don’t look nice. I said you look like a sissy.”

“This is why no boys liked you,” Léonie returned to her drawing.

“The boys didn’t like me cause I didn’t like them,” Florette took a swig of her beer and leaned back in her chair. She looked over to Danilo and Reese, who were sitting on the edge of the patio talking, “What are they speaking this time?”

Léonie listened for a moment before responding, “Chinese.”

“Huh,” Florette said.

Danilo and Reese were the youngest out of the group at 54 and 57, respectively. This created a unique bond between them, one Léonie and Florette didn’t have, so they spent most of their time together. The only problem with their friendship was that Danilo hardly spoke English and Reese didn’t speak Italian. In the end, Danilo resorted to learning Chinese, but Reese eventually picked up Italian.

“Why can’t they just speak English and let us into their conversations?” Florette watched them talk, jealous of their uncanny ability to get along. Léonie never agreed with her unless they were talking about how terrible their lives were. All four of them agreed on that.

“Well, do they want us hearing their conversations?”

“I don’t know, I can’t understand them, Leo!” Florette exclaimed, “If I can learn English, and you can learn English, then they can, too.”

“Reese already spoke English.”

“Danilo, then! He’s smart, I guess, smarter than me.”

“That’s not a very high bar to reach,” Léonie chuckled to herself.

“Not a very high bar to r- Hey!” Florette tossed her now empty bottle to the side.

There was a moment of silence, besides for Danilo and Reese’s chatter. Léonie liked the silence, especially when she was on the patio. It reminded her of her home with Marcel, where they would sit in their own garden, watching the sun go down as their dogs ran around in the grass. Léonie had forgotten the sound of Marcel’s voice and the feeling of his hand in hers over the years, but she had never forgotten the memories that they shared.

Florette, on the other hand, hated silence. Every time it was quiet, it consumed her, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Recently, her thoughts weren’t very friendly to her. When she was sleeping, her thoughts showered her with nightmares about William and the other volunteers who had met their demise. During the day, they were hardly any better. It seemed like everything reminded her of her friends.

“Stupid Danilo and his coats,” Florette crossed her arms, “Why does he always have to wear those dumb long coats?”

“Why do you judge him?” Léonie didn’t take her focus off her drawing. It was coming together now and she thought she might be able to color it tomorrow. If only she had something to color it in with.

“It’s at least twenty degrees out, he doesn’t need it.”

“Celcius?”

“No, Kelvin,” Florette rolled her eyes, “Of course Celsius!”

“I was simply asking.”

They stopped talking for a moment before Florette called out, “Danilo!”

The man turned his head to look at Florette. When Danilo had first come to the Assembly, Florette had had a hard time believing he was 54. Unlike Léonie, William, and Joona, who Florette was able to guess how old they were pretty well, Danilo’s face was almost timeless. His face was free of blemishes, which Florette envied more than anything else, and his eyes sparkled like cassiterite. The long, brown coat complimented

“Sì?”

“Why do you always wear that coat?”

Danilo looked back at Reese, who provided a translation, “Hanno chiesto perché indossi sempre quel cappotto.”

“Oh,” Danilo said, “It’s.. nice? Sì, nice.”

Florette scoffed, “It’s, like, twenty degrees. You don’t need such a long coat.”

“Florette, stop,” Léonie whispered, but Florette ignored her.

“Florette ha detto che ci sono circa venti gradi. Non ne hai bisogno. Che stronza,” Reese glared at Florette as she repeated it.

“It looks nice,” Danilo stated, “and.. confortevole.”

“-and comfortable.” Reese nodded.

“Yeah, I got that.”

“Rude.” Reese said and then she turned around and continued their conversation.

“She says I’m rude when all I did was ask him, not even her, a question.”

“Uh-huh.” Léonie started to draw the last branch on the tree in her drawing. Léonie had learned that, sometimes, it was better to let Florette talk then try to reason with her. She continued drawing as Florette ranted about little, unimportant things. Léonie tuned her out as best she could and returned to her own thoughts.

This would be her one hundred and eighty-second drawing since she had “volunteered” for the Assembly. She would hardly call it volunteering: she was lied to, taken without warning, and brought into a new and unusual world, but despite this, she tried not to dwell on it. Léonie had seen more people, more friends, die than Florette, but she handled it much better.

Today she was trying to draw her old yard from memory. It was hard. The trees tended to blend together into green mush and she had forgotten the color of her dogs. Léonie had tried to sketch Marcel and her in the foreground, but failed and drew poppies in their place. She had Danilo to thank for that, who had taught her all about the colors and shapes of flowers. One thing Léonie did remember was that they had the ugliest Edelweiss in their garden, so she usually replaced them with other flowers.

“Hey, Léonie,” Florette said suddenly.

“Yes?”

“You do the talking.”

“What are you t-” Léonie understood why Florette didn’t want to talk when she looked in the same direction as her. Walking towards them, manilla folders in hand, was Mr. Johnson himself. Mr. Johnson rarely made an appearance at their little home anymore (if you could even call it that), so Léonie understood why Reese looked so shocked.

“Good evening, Ms. Thälmann!” Mr. Johnson smiled, nodding politely at Léonie and readjusting his blonde hair, “Hello Reese, Danilo, Florette.”

The former three smiled back at him. Florette merely grunted in response.

“How can we help you, Mr. Johnson?” Léonie put her pencil down and positioned herself so that she faced him.

“I’ve come to tell you that the meeting tomorrow has been rescheduled so that it’s an hour earlier. I was able to grab your notes so you could prepare.”

Florette scoffed as Mr. Johnson handed her her manilla folder, “So you guys have finally decided to take away our one day to sleep in an hour.”

“We sleep in on weekends,” Reese replied, then mumbled a small “thank you” as Mr. Johnson handed her a folder.

“Besides those!” Florette exclaimed, “What is so important that you need to take away our hour of sleep anyways?!”

“That’s for the Assembly to know. You don’t need to, Miss. Travere,” Mr. Johnson responded calmly.

“Oh, so we’re not part of the Assembly now?”

“Florette, be quiet,” Reese flipped through her own folder. There were at least twelve pages explaining her assignment, which she moved over to view the other things. Instead, she examined the photos and fake identification in the folder. One was a family photo of an older couple, their daughter, and younger son, who was exactly Reese’s age. There was little note on the mother, but a whole page was dedicated to the father, whom she assumed was her target.

“Shut up, Reese,” Florette said, “Lemme guess, Xavier-”

“Mr. Johnson,” Léonie corrected her, “Be polite.”

“Who cares, Leo. Anyways, Xavier, what is it this time? World War III? Cause I don’t care if it is. I really don’t.”

Mr. Johnson sighed, “You’ll be informed sometime within the next couple days. Mr. Steinberg expects you all to be on your best behaviour tomorrow so the Assembly is not embarrassed.”

“You know us, Mr. Johnson, we’d never want to embarrass the Assembly,” Florette said, “That’d be horrible.”

“I don’t appreciate your sarcasm, Miss. Travere.”

“And I don’t appreciate you,” Florette stuck out her tongue at Mr. Johnson.

“Miss. Travere, do you realize that for the past five years the Assembly has fed, clothed, and housed you from our own pockets? Mr. Steinberg has graciously given you his former poolhouse, which he renovated to the highest standards,” Florette opened her mouth to speak, but Mr. Johnson continued, “Don’t pull that ‘we were lied to and taken from our homes’ bullcrap with me, Miss. Travere. You volunteered to work for the Assembly. You signed a contract that stated that you will be working with government and military officials, traveling-”

“Not time traveling!” Reese interrupted. Mr. Johnson shot her a dirty glare.

“It said traveling as in general traveling. Anything could be included under that. Now, Miss. Travere, I suggest you be thankful for what we have given you in the past years. You’d be dead without us,” Mr. Johnson paused for a moment as if contemplating his next words, “just like your dear friend, William.”

Florette stayed situated in her chair, arms crossed, eyes beginning to water.

“Why did you say that, Mr. Johnson?” Léonie whispered. Reese stared daggers at him. Danilo, oblivious to most of the conversation, copied Reese’s glare.

“Because it’s true,” he responded quickly, “Good evening, everyone.”

Mr. Johnson turned around and left, leaving the group of volunteers in silence. No one moved except Danilo, who mindlessly flipped through his papers.

“I’m going to bed,” Florette mumbled, standing from her chair.

“Do not let Mr. Johnson get you down,” Léonie dropped from her spot in the tree.

“It’s Xavier.”

“Hm?”

“He’s younger than all of us, so we don’t have to call him ‘Mr. Johnson.’” Florette walked to the back door, empty bottle in hand.

“I understand that, Florette, but you need t-”

“I don’t need to do anything!” Florette’s voice cracked in the middle. Several tears were freely rolling down her face, reflecting the pale moonlight that was streaming through the trees, “He has no authority over me! I survived World War II, we both survived the Great Depression, you survived World War I! That absolute, ugly-ass loser barely survived the Coast Guard!”

A small chuckle came out of Reese. Léonie sighed for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Go to bed and sleep,” Léonie collected her supplies from the tree, “It will help.”

“I hope so,” Florette mumbled before disappearing behind the double doors.

“Mi sento male per lei,” Danilo stood from his place on the porch and brushed the stray leaves off of his lap.

“Siamo tutti nella stessa situazione. Non dispiacerti solo per lei .”

“What are you saying?” Léonie asked.

“Danilo said that he felt sorry for her,” Reese shrugged, “I just said that we’re all in the same, so it’s stupid to feel sorry only for her.”

Léonie shook her head. She couldn’t handle this anymore. She would kill for some food that wasn’t cheap or for a better bed, but now, all she wanted was silence.

2 notes · View notes

cinanamon · 5 years

Text

we’re just friends ― ml

pairing | mark x reader

genre | angst, suggestive, bad boy!au, band!au, high school!au

word count | 11.5K

synopsis | He must not have noticed the damage he caused when he dismissed your relationship for little more than friends; it wasn’t reversible, and he was left clutching at strings. But you were no better, for you decided it wouldn’t be so bad to drag his friend into a rebound with you, that only caused further destruction and ruin on all parts. Inspired by song Friends by Chase Atlantic.

warning | drinking, smoking, fighting, suggestive, injury, cheating, cursing

The car slowly pulled into the designated parking lot and settled into a spot close to the sidewalk. Mark almost reluctantly slipped his hand from your thigh, but he nonchalantly turned off the car and stepped out. You followed in turn in the ease of quiet, and Mark spared you a quick smile before locking the car again.

“You have everything?” He questioned, waiting for you to fall into step beside him before draping his arm over your shoulder.

You nodded, “Yeah, it’s just my bag so I can do some work before your show.” His smile became more fond and he looked like he was going to say something before his phone rang. He sighed quietly but with one look at the caller, he rolled his eyes and stepped away for a moment.

“Sorry, it’s Hyuck,” you nodded in understanding as he took the call. You took the time to admire the venue his band booked.

It was just a simple off the wall restaurant that would host local artists sometimes. It wasn’t the most popular, but enough people flocked in on weekends looking for somewhere to go. You had been there a few times yourself; your friends and you would come in for bar food and to flirt with the other boys that frequented the eatery.

“Yeah, take a left and you’re right here,” You tore your eyes away from the brick building to admire Mark’s relaxed side profile. He nodded again and turned to look up the downtown street, like he was expecting someone to turn the corner at any second.

You watched as well, curious, and absently took note that Mark ended the call with a quick farewell. Almost on cue, the boy in question appeared in your line of sight, ruffled honey hair paired with an expression that morphed into one of recognition.

“Donghyuck!” Mark called, a lazy smile—almost tense, but he brushed it off quickly—presenting itself on his face as he went to meet him halfway with a confident stride.

“Mark!” The boy answered almost mockingly, but he laughed a little forcefully as he met Mark and they proceeded to perform a handshake. Mark patted Donghyuck on the back when they finished, and he guided them back towards you.

Donghyuck’s confidence seemed to dwindle the closer they neared you and his gaze grew slightly guarded. “Hi, Donghyuck. It’s nice to see you again.”

He cleared his throat, but he spared a glance at mark before fixing you with a bright smile. “Likewise, yeah.”

If there was anything questionable in the exchange, Mark didn’t seem to notice or care as he turned his attention to the venue. He took the steps two at a time and waited briefly at the door to look at his two guests. “So we still have like, thirty minutes before people start coming in, so just get comfortable.” He slipped his gaze to you solely and he smiled, “Get good seats; you have first pick.”

Mark opened the door and you two followed into the whirlwind of setting up. His bandmates and workers were hard at work moving around seating and connecting the speakers. You had barely gotten two feet before a tall man with a black undercut on the stage saw Mark and stopped adjusting his guitar in favor of jumping down and coming towards you.

“Yo, Mark.” the man called, his voice relaxed and low.

Mark snapped his gaze to the speaker and he instantly broke into a smile. “Johnny! Man, what’s up?”

The man—Johnny—glanced over Mark’s shoulder at us before focusing again. “You’re a little late; we’re just getting the amplifiers hooked up. Oh, and your guitar is in the back.”

Mark thanked him and Johnny nodded before moving back to the stage where two other bandmates were practicing. Mark took another sweepover of the area before looking to you and Hyuck again. “So I’m going to head back and help finish up. Do whatever you want for now, I guess.”

You nodded and smiled, placing a hand on Mark’s arm, “I’m excited; we’ll go snag a table up by the stage.” Mark always smiled so wide towards you, but he kissed your cheek swiftly before leaving. You watched him go before looking to Hyuck with a friendly smile. “Let’s go sit down.”

Donghyuck agreed oddly quiet and trailed behind you until you reached the worn green leather stools. You sat across from each other and before you could pull up your papers, you took a sneaky glance at how awkward Donghyuck looked and decided against it.

“So,” Donghyuck’s eyes snapped up from his phone towards you, “have you never seen Mark perform?”

“Ah, no,” He shut off his phone and tried for a little laugh as he continued, “He always said he never wanted to invite us, but I annoyed him so much about it last time he gave in.”

You snorted and glanced at the stage, “That sounds like him. He’s taken me to every one.”

Donghyuck nodded, but his bottom lip jutted a bit like a pout. “Not surprised.”

Again, you felt a smirk trying to crawl across your face so you opted to glance at your phone for a second. His weird attitudes didn’t shock you because you knew that the boy before you had had a crush on you since you met Mark. You were on friendly enough terms with him to have conversations, but his nerves and barely contained excitement always gave him away.

“Does it never bother you?” you looked up quizzically at Hyuck, who pursed his lips and snuck a glance at the stage. “Your relationship with Mark?”

The smile on your face never left, but your eyebrows furrowed in a hurt kind of confusion. “What do you mean?”

He opened your mouth to say something else, but the door opened to the first customers of the night. The mixed group of boys and girls came in boisterously before moving towards a booth near the other side of the stage. Your conversation with Donghyuck was momentarily forgotten as you took note of the missing band as that they were probably in the back until their showtime. Donghyuck seemed more relaxed with you now, if not a little put off, and so you two kept light conversation until the room filled with too many bodies and the lights dimmed.

You and Donghyuck eagerly faced the stage as Mark and his bandmates came on, all in eyeliner and ripped jeans. Mark smiled charmingly and took the front mic, thanking people for coming out and promising a good show. He strummed his guitar for effect before the drummer counted down and the night of music began.

———

Each song played was better than the last, and the energy in the restaurant was thrumming. Even when the show ended and the room erupted in cheer, majority of the original crowd was still crammed in the small bar. But at the end, people slowly started to mingle and file out, heading home at the prime time of midnight.

You stretched in your seat as you waited for Mark to come back out, and Donghyuck stifled a yawn from across you; you subtly quirked a brow because you humorously thought he did so to pretend like he could last longer than he could.

When Mark came out and helped packup the instruments, you stood to go greet him. “Hey, if you need to drop anything off, we can do that before you take me home.” Mark looked up at you like he didn’t expect to see you before he snuck a glance at Johnny across from him.

“There’s an afterparty at Jaehyun’s house if you don’t mind; I know it’s last minute.” Mark frowned at you apologetically.

“No I don’t mind, I guess; does Hyuck know?”

He blinked like he forgot that his friend was there too; he bit his lip. “I guess he has to; he doesn’t have a ride.” Mark groaned lowly and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Mark, he came out here to see you, come on.”

He sighed and ruffled his hair. “The only reason I invited him here was because he kept begging; I’m sure his mom would want him home anyways.” “But he wants to hang out with you. He should come.”

Johnny finally looked up from the case and shrugged, “He can come, we don’t mind.”

Mark frowned at his hands, and it took another second without a response before your earlier conversation with Donghyuck came to mind. You narrowed your gaze in concern. “Are you not telling me something?”

Mark’s eyes snapped up to you, and he shot you a smile you knew wasn’t genuine. “No, of course not. Tell him he can come; it’s okay.”

You weren’t convinced, but you left him to finish his work until he was ready to get in the car.

You had extended the invite to Donghyuck who agreed in a state of shock, but now as you were about to pile in the car, you noticed his apprehension and tense shoulders when Mark arrived. As Mark went around to unlock it, you placed a reassuring yet inquisitive hand on his shoulder before you sat in the passenger seat. After a moment, Donghyuck and Mark climbed in as well.

You took a glance at Mark beside you and cleared your throat, pointedly ignoring the off vibes between the two boys. “So was Jaehyun planning this, or was this spontaneous?”

Mark flicked on the car radio before meeting your gaze out of the corner of his eye. “Uh, he had talked about it, but he only finalized it when some people asked after the show.” You nodded and looked out the window as Mark started the short ride over. Hyuck didn’t speak much from the back seat during the drive, almost hesitant on asking Mark anything or unsure of what to expect.

Mark parked and stepped out to greet Jaehyun on the porch, but you lingered back with Hyuck, bumping him in the shoulder. “What’s up? Aren’t you the life of the party?” You joked lightly.

Donghyuck wearily looked between you and the house with loud music and voices. “Yeah but—never at one with alcohol or whatever,” he looked down like it sounded dumb.

You nodded in understanding, “Well, you can stick with us—”

“(Y/n)! Donghyuck! Come up here.” You tried to shoot the younger boy another bright smile as you led the way up the stairs.

On the porch, it looked like the rest of Mark’s bandmates had come out, a bit refreshed from their long show. You had met them all before, but Donghyuck’s nerves seemed to return when he reached the top of the steps.

“This is Taeyong, Doyoung, and Jaehyun. You met Johnny earlier.” Mark nodded at his bandmates in turn, with looks to kill in handsomeness and intimidation, even if they had all greeted you as well.

Jaehyun nodded towards you and Hyuck with a quick grin, “Your girlfriend and friend, right?”

“Ah, no, no, bro; we’re just friends.” Mark laughed lightly and shot a quick smile.

Jaehyun raised a brow and looked back at you for clarification but you just shrugged like it was nothing, even if his wording always kind of bothered you. You felt Hyuck’s eyes burning into the side of your skull.

Mark motioned you over before Jaehyun could say anything. “Come on, (Y/n); let’s go check out the party.” With that comment, you really didn’t want to, but it felt like you had no other option as you forced your legs to move towards him and under his arm, much like a couple would.

You were moved forward by his arm around your shoulders, but you heard a voice behind you and looked to see Donghyuck trying to follow you two through the crowd of sweaty bodies. His eyes were alarmed as he called for Mark to wait. You placed a hand on Mark’s chest to stop him. Mark blinked when he saw Hyuck, like he registered that his younger friend was at the party with him.

“Uh, hey just don’t touch any alcohol, don’t talk to anyone you don’t know—”

“Mark!” Another of his friend’s appeared with a wide grin—Yuta, if you remembered correctly—and he wrapped his arms around you and Mark, separating you two and effectively cutting off Donghyuck. “You won’t believe the drinks we have tonight.”

“Yuta, wait,” you and Mark tried to stop him and look back but the crowd had closed in and swept Hyuck away. You searched for him in dismay before Yuta had both of you in the kitchen and was pressing glasses of unknown alcohol into your hands.

Mark looked at you helplessly before forcing a grin towards Yuta and downing whatever he had chosen for you for the night. Before you could question him or yourself, you followed suit and quickly gagged. “God, that’s strong; what was that?”

Yuta smiled at you like a shark. “Vodka.”

“Straight vodka?” Mark heaved and pressed a hand to his throat. “Is that even safe?”

Yuta shrugged and grabbed another glass, heading out into the living room, “It gets you drunk faster.”

And you could see what he meant because you were already starting to feel its effects, your thoughts already a little scattered. You tried to shake your head as Mark found two bottles of beer to sip on. You nodded towards him and slipped your arm in his as you searched for seating. You found space beside a couple making out, but at that point, you really couldn’t care; you just wanted to sit down.

Mark closed his eyes for a moment before taking a swig of his beverage. By now your feelings and thoughts were getting fuzzy, and the only thing your mind seemed to care about was Mark beside you as you curled into his side, placing your head on his shoulder and pressing a chaste kiss to his collarbone.

Mark glanced down at you and cleared his throat, a little embarrassed. “You’re too close.”

You scoffed and laid another kiss in the hollow of his neck before reluctantly pulling away to speak, “When have you ever cared that I’m too close?”

“We’re in public.”

“Everyone’s drunk.” Mark blushed but didn’t say anything, just took another slow sip of his drink. You pouted at him in his silence before absentmindedly wrapping your arms around his shoulders to play with the brunette hair at the nape of his neck. “We aren’t just friends, are we?”

Mark sputtered and toyed with his bottle cap, attempting to look you in the eyes but unable to hold your gaze. “Why are you asking?”

You shrugged like you had no real reason, but then you gently placed a hand on his farthest cheek, coaxing him to face you before taking in his strong gaze and then his parted lips. “Because friends don’t do this.” And you moved forward to press your lips to his.

It escalated quickly; maybe because of the alcohol, maybe not. It was just your lips attached, held by your words prior until you cupped his face, and it was like wood added to a fire. You mirrored the couple beside you unconsciously; him pulling you into his lap and holding your hips firmly, him biting your bottom lip in his attempt to tempt you into deepening the kiss. It worked, seeing as you giggled into the kiss and tilted your head, pulling his hair back to tease him backwards. His eyes fluttered open as he stifled a groan and his eyes narrowed; in retaliation, he began to kiss at your neck and nudge your collar down. In that moment, you both knew things were getting too hot. You yanked Mark’s hair again lightly as he left your neck long enough for you to stand and pull him back up towards your frame. Reluctantly, you both separated to find somewhere private in your haze.

Mark tugged you down a secluded hall; a bathroom to the left and, through the crack in the door, a bedroom. Mark drew you towards him again so you’re chest to chest before he spun you around, the wall harshly flat against your back. Mark zoned in on your lips again; your lip-locking became more and more feverish, more and more desperate. He pressed his body to yours and when he disconnected for air, his arms circled your waist securely and his lips tickled your jaw.

Pants escaped from between your puffy lips as your eyes traced the ceiling; Mark switched places with you so you were leaning into him. You dropped your head to kiss him again, and Mark couldn’t find good footing as he kept stumbling back along the wall until he suddenly froze. He prodded you away from him, detaching your lips with an embarrassingly wet sound until you were at arms length. You furrowed your brows, trying to focus long enough to ask him why he ended it, but he was just shaking his head, panting.

“We’re just friends,” he managed after a moment, unable to look at you or catch his breath.

You stood there gaping at him, the words sinking in but not making sense. “I’m sorry?”

“You—you asked and—I’m saying that—” he kept shaking his head, wringing his hands and eyes darting between the ceiling and floor; obviously overcome by anxiety and panicked confusion. “We’ve never been a thing: we've always been friends. Haven’t we?”

You felt anger spike in your being, hot and overwhelming. “We’ve always been a thing without the title, Mark. We kiss! We got out! We fucking act like we’re a thing and now you really want to say none of that matters to you?”

Mark ran his hands through his hair, something akin to a groan leaving his mouth. “I never thought about it, okay, I’m sorry—I thought we were on the same page, wanted the same thing—“

“Then what the hell did you want? What the hell did you expect?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know; I’m sorry!” Mark’s voice raised in volume as he abruptly turned back to you, helplessness in his eyes and distraught clear in his expression. He squeezed his eyes shut as he forced out his next words, “I thought we were just friends who acted romantically when we needed it.”

You felt so dumb. So completely and utterly dumb. You were embarrassed, hurt and angry, and you’re sure it showed because Mark winced hard and dropped his gaze. “Look I’m—I’m sorry—“

“Stop apologizing. Just go.” Leave me alone. The resentment rung in your hoarse voice and Mark paused, biting his lip, before giving you your space and turning on his heel, disappearing into the crowd.

It took a few seconds before you hiccuped an angry sob and you glared at the wall as you furiously wiped at the oncoming tears, a headache already forming. You were so upset with yourself, with Mark, with what you thought was a relationship for the past year. You could still taste him on your lips and you were starting to feel sick. You sniffled and swallowed back any more crying before heading back into the throng on people.

You didn’t know your plan. You didn’t have a fucking plan. You didn’t understand how all of that had just transpired, it replaying in your head to help you figure out the trigger, figure out what you did wrong and whether you’d even really want to change it. Were you looking for Mark? Were you looking for an escape?

“(Y/n)! Where’d you go—oh my God, what happened?” You felt two hands grip your shoulders and you followed them up to the face of Donghyuck. You hated yourself for forgetting he was here; you hated yourself for bringing him here; you hated yourself for coming here.

You shook your head and wiped at your eyes again; you didn’t want the younger boy to see how weak you were to be crying for God’s sake. He called your name again, concern evident in his voice as he tried to comfortingly rub your arms. But it was white noise as you looked up and met Mark’s gaze by the door.

His jacket was in his arms, like he was preparing to put it on and head out. His eyes were locked on your form and swarming with different emotions; you didn’t know if he was regretful or as much of an oblivious, reckless mess as he was when he left you. It didn’t matter. You were hurt and anger bubbled up in you again.

Before anything could be done, Mark hastily looked away—ashamed, either my himself or you—and he was out the door, possibly out of your life for a long while.

You felt another hiccup lodge itself in your throat and you know you needed something to overcome the thought of Mark.

And that’s why you ignored Hyuck’s question in favor of cupping his face and kissing him. He let out a muffled gasp of shock and you knew his eyes had to be open, so you shut yours more tightly until he finally relaxed a little for his lips to move against yours. You felt more tears wallow in your eyes and when you pulled away, Donghyuck didn’t ask any questions—whether because he was too shocked, knew about Mark, or just thought it was the alcohol, you didn’t know nor cared to ask—he just embraced you in a hug until you calmed down. By then the party wasn’t fun for either of you, so Donghyuck walked you home in your drunken stupor.

Before he left he might have confessed to you but you weren’t sure, nor did you truly care about his feelings in the aftermath; maybe you just wanted to be as selfish as Mark.

———

You knew getting drunk on a school night was a bad idea, but recently you’ve made a lot of bad ideas. You dragged your hands down your face after your first class (that you quite honestly didn’t understand one word of) and made your way to your next class. Usually you’d walk with Mark; god, how you missed his jokes right now—your eyes snapped up when you caught a glimpse of tousled honey hair and a black graphic tee: Donghyuck.

You instinctively called out his name and his head turned your way in the busy hallway. He didn’t move, seeing as he was by his locker, but he awkwardly waited for you to make your way over.

“Hey, um, about last night—“ you scratched at your temple and the mere thought of telling Hyuck that the miss meant nothing made you feel as shitty as Mark left you. “The kiss, I uh,”

Donghyuck had still not moved, waiting with a sudden baited breath for your words, tense and hoping yet waiting for disappointment. It made your skin itch.

You scrunched your eyes shut. “I’m sure you know about Mark; so I got really caught up in the moment and I kissed you as a rebound, and I’m—I’m sorry, I guess I’m trying to say.”

You didn’t dare to open your eyes as the silence stretched on, and you were prepared to turn away, sure Donghyuck would hate you for playing with his feelings— “I still can be.”

Your eyes snapped open and locked with his. Before you could question him, he rushed to continue, his hand slipping from his lock. “Like—I mean, I never liked how Mark treated you—your relationship—so if you need a rebound, I don’t mind being…” he huffed and collected his thoughts, his gaze almost shy, “If you need a rebound for yourself or show, I can be it.”

You stared at him in disbelief. Here you were, looking like a hungover mess with an old hoodie, and him looking like a punk angel; you felt like this wasn’t how things were supposed to go. You were supposed to apologize after falsely raising his hopes and he’d never talk to you again, and yet he was offering himself selflessly for your own selfish gain. Something in the back of your head screamed to decline, to let him go and get over you and not get caught up in your mess, but, god, his offer was too good to pass up, not when you were this broken by Mark; he was giving you a green light to be selfish and wring him dry.

You looked into his eyes for another second. “You’re sure about this?”

“Positively,” And he breathed the words like he didn’t think you’d accept. You gave a curt nod to yourself but after a second's hesitation, you went up on your toes and brushed your lips against his cheek.

“Alright,” you practically whispered as you walked past him, down the hallway and ignoring his wide eyes following your steps. “Boyfriend.”

———

From then on, your relationship seemed a whirlwind of over the top displays. You couldn’t let him go, really; your friendship morphed into one almost fully consumed by a need for physical contact. Sometimes you’d feel guilty, thinking that he was only okay with this because he actually liked you. But those thoughts would soon be washed away when Donghyuck would laugh and meld his lips to yours, and you’d let your desires to be wanted take over.

It was a month later that Donghyuck invited you out with his friends. You had froze; won’t Mark be there? You had asked. Donghyuck tried to feign nonchalance, we can just show him what he’s missing. And you secretly enjoyed the tingle that shot down your spine at making Mark jealous as you leaned forward to reward him with a kiss.

“So they know I’m coming, right?” You questioned again once Donghyuck pulled in in front of the restaurant.

He nodded as he unbuckled. “Yeah; I told Renjun and he planned it so that’s all who needs to know. No one will mind, I promise.” Except maybe Mark.

You sighed again and stepped out, tugging down your skirt for good measure before closing the door behind you and walking onto the sidewalk. Donghyuck hooked an arm around your waist, but it was sharply reminiscent of Mark so you tensed and sped up your pace to open the door and walk in before your new boyfriend could hold it open for you.

Donghyuck cleared his throat from behind you, so you let him pass you to lead you to the table the boys were at; a table for eight nestled near a window and bordered by chairs and booths alike.

You’re prepared to head to the chair at the far end before you see the person seated across from it. Mark was sitting in the booth and fiddling with his phone but you took note how he still looked as good as ever; it made your heart constrict. Had your ‘break up’ not affected him as it affected you? Did he not miss you? You tried to push down your longing in hopes of feeling confident and making him miss you.

Donghyuck passed you and moved to the seat beside the one you were eyeing earlier; you steadied your breath and made sure the rest of the table was preoccupied before you strode over to slip into the sea beside him. The sudden motion must have caught Mark off guard, for his eyes lifted and they widened when they saw you. You ignored his surprise in favor of turning Hyuck’s face toward you and planting a kiss smack on his lips. He wasn’t expecting it but he took it smoother than he had the first time; his eyes took his Mark’s reaction with a silent confidence before sliding closed as he kissed back with the same vigor.

You bit at his lip lightly before pulling away, tilting your head in Mark’s direction so your bruising lips were on full view, even as Donghyuck continued to mouth at your jaw. “Sorry, I didn’t realize we were being obvious.”

Mark didn’t visibly react except for a slight twitch in his jaw; his countenance was stone cold as his gaze flickered between you and Donghyuck. You hoped it was jealousy and not anger; doubt trickled into the pit of your stomach before you felt a hand land on your thigh. You stiffened before glancing to see that it was Donghyuck; he massaged your leg for a moment before entwining your fingers and turning to talk to the other boys at the table, gaining their attention at your end. You kept your eyes and smile on their conversations to avoid Mark’s searing, all-knowing gaze because anything would be better than breaking in front of him. Even if the only hand you wanted to be holding was Mark’s, you squeezed Hyuck’s hand until your knuckles turned white.

Sometime during the dinner, your hands had made their way onto the table as you ate and laughter rung, yet the person in front of you had yet to crack a smile once, a tense gloom shrouding them and making it hard for you to enjoy your night too. To ignore your ‘ex’ and unconsciously feed your need to make him even more jealous, you laid your head on Donghyuck’s shoulder and overall enjoyed his warmth. Wherever you and Hyuck touched, Mark’s eyes followed.

Mark finally tore his attention away long enough to cross his arms and lean towards Jaemin beside him, “Why is she here?”

Jaemin had obviously sensed Mark’s unhappiness and glanced between you and Hyuck with an unsure shrug. “They’re dating; he asked if he could bring her.”

If possible, the aura around Mark grew even darker and his eyes narrowed and voice grew lower. “Even with my past with her?”

Jaemin shrugged again helplessly. “I guess so, I don’t know—“ Mark pulled out his wallet abruptly and pulled out a twenty before throwing it on the table.

“I’m heading out; there’s my money for my meal. Knock yourselves out with what’s left.”

“You’re leaving already?” Renjun questioned at the front of the table, genuinely concerned.

You could tell Mark was trying to hold back a scoff and keep an even tone. “Yeah, I have places to be.”

He stepped out from behind the booth and before he passed you, he leaned down subtly and his breath brushed past the shell of your ear. “Don’t play this game.” A shiver ran down your spine as he straightened and continued on.

“What did he say to you?” Donghyuck questioned you with furrowed brows; somehow his arm had found its way behind your chair.

“I-I didn’t quite catch it.” You lied, turning your head to catch a glimpse of Mark steeling you with a strong gaze before he was out the door, and the painful deja vu of the party hit you hard as you roughly faced forward again. “We should probably go too,” you mumbled, letting go of his hand. Hyuck noticed and presses his tongue into the inside of his mouth before going for a bright smile as he said farewell as well.

The cold air greeted you and you were almost happy for a change from the stuffiness of the restaurant, or maybe just the stuffiness of being caught between Mark and Donghyuck.

“It’s...nice,” you glanced at Hyuck for elaboration. He swallowed and swung your hands. “Taking you out. Having conversations.” Your throat went dry. You were dating, right. You couldn’t just use him for kisses and as a pawn for your past lover.

You tried for a smile. “Me too; it’s always fun going out with you.”

Hyuck read your eyes before he hesitated and went for a smirk, “Mark seemed really pissed off too.”

You laughed lightly and grinned, but it didn’t reach your eyes, “That’s always a plus.”

You could tell Hyuck was searching for something to say even as you climbed into the car. You felt a sudden wave of pity and shame and maybe it wasn’t a good combination, but you knew you had to at least attempt to treat him better. You leaned forward and kissed his cheek, but you let your lips linger.

“You’re too good for me.”

Donghyuck froze beside you and looked at you with an unreadable gaze. He bit his tongue as he searched your eyes, seemingly conflicted before he went in to give you a chaste, lasting kiss back. “You only deserve the best.”

And you smiled, but you couldn’t disagree more.

———

A sweet laugh escaped from between your lips at a joke of Renjun’s about his latest piercing. You and Hyuck were on your way to your last class before you had run into the boy, and you managed to spare a few minutes to converse.

After your exchange with Donghyuck the night before, you told yourself you’d at least attempt to maintain the relationship and treat it as you should; he knew he was a rebound, but you couldn’t just dismiss his feelings, right? He was doing this for you, after all.

You leaned farther into his side and held his hand that laid on your opposing shoulder. You hummed at their conversation, but let your eyes wander. You took in how many teens were still out; you maybe had another minute or two before the bell rung, and your classroom was only down the hall.

Except as your eyes glided over the lockers lining the wall, they connected with a pair of sharp, brown ones: Mark’s. He was poised by the next door over, a textbook open in hand like he’d been reviewing material before going in; funny, seeing as you couldn’t remember the last time he cared about his grades since freshman year.

He was glaring at you, or, rather, Hyuck’s arm around you. You remembered his words to you in the restaurant and a surge of confidence ran through you. You quirked a brow at him and smirked, tightening your grip on Hyuck’s hand and leaning your head farther onto his shoulder.

As expected, Mark barely reacted; his unamused countenance not shifting as he slammed his book shut and ducked under his classroom door.

You felt a nostalgic tug on your heart to think that he used to be so expressive; you couldn’t so much as touch his hand without him blushing and stuttering. You tore your gaze away from where he disappeared to face your boyfriend and his friend again. You studied his face; did he care that he was betraying his best friend like this?

You absently traced his knuckles with the tip of you finger and he glanced at you, sending you a warm smile. Before you could say something you could potentially regret, the bell rung. Your eyes widened and you swore, pulling away from the two boys as you tried to hurry to your classroom door before the teacher could scold you. Donghyuck laughed a little behind you, and you managed to send him a playful glare before he was out of view.

As you stepped into the room and found your seat without getting in trouble, you couldn’t help the fondness you felt for Hyuck. He was a good guy; a good friend, a good boyfriend. And yet, you were not either. And you were afraid you were changing him for the worse.

—

After your class, you had to go to your club. It would go on for another hour after school ended, but you still needed to finish your part. All of your club members dwindled until the last said goodbye and had to leave. By the time you were heading out, it was getting dark out. You sighed and shouldered your bag, preparing for the walk home.

You had barely left the front doors and went down the steps until a silhouette appeared by the lower column. You took an alarmed step back, but they began to take shape until you rolled your eyes at who it was.

“You know it’s pretty weird to wait outside a school after hours.” You drawled, your voice loud in the otherwise quiet dusk. Mark perked up and turned his head to see you descend the staircase.

“We have to talk.”

You scoffed, “You need to get a life.”

Mark’s brows furrowed, and for a split second you were afraid you hurt him, but his face smoothed out soon after.

He sighed and pushed up from the column so he could stand upright and meet you by the railing. “Look, I know I hurt you at the party—“

“You’re bringing this up now?” You tried to feign annoyance but you’re sure your voice shook slightly.

Mark sighed a little haughtily but nodded. “Yes, I am because this was our issue but now you’re dragging Donghyuck into this.”

You narrowed your gaze to ignore the unease in your bones. “He was willing, thank you very much.”

“You’re trying to make me jealous! I’m not blind.” Emotion flashed across his face and he groaned lightly, balling his fists and smooshing then into his coat pockets as he looked away from you. It went quiet and you hesitated.

“Are you?”

Mark looked back at you and you saw him wet his lips. “Yeah, I am.”

You weren’t sure if that made you feel better or worse. You both just stared at each other, vulnerable yet apprehensive, watching the other only a few steps away as if it were a mile.

“You—“ Mark pulled a hand out of his pocket to place it over his mouth as he tried to gather his thoughts. “I miss you.”

He watched you for a response, a grimace already forming like he was prepared to be shot down. When you didn’t and continued to gaze at him with unreadable eyes and a hand poised precariously on the handrail, he continued.

“I messed up; I admit it. I wasn’t clear or sympathetic, and I take responsibility,” for once. He licked his lips again, a nervous tick, and he ran a hand through his hair. “And if you’re willing, I’d like to try again; the right way this time.”

Your mouth parted. He couldn’t be serious. Your feelings jumbled together and you weren’t sure if you wanted to run up and kiss him or slap him.

Your silence made him shift uncomfortably, his eyebrows drawing in and he cleared his throat. “Isn’t that what you wanted too? I mean, all you have to do is tell Hyuck to drop the act, I’m sure he’d be fine with it—“ he cut himself off and stared at you, and that’s when you realized you were crying.

You slowly brought a hand up to wipe at the shed tears. “I—“ your gentle hand on your cheek turned rough, and you swiped so the skin was left red in its wake. “I can’t. I’m—Hyuck—it’s not an act.”

Mark didn’t answer you, just gazed at your dark figure perched on the stairs. “You’re—you’re telling me you're dating my best friend?”

You shut your eyes in shame. “We had the agreement that it was to make you jealous, but it’s still—we’re still dating.” You wanted to fight him, call him out on him and Hyuck not being on the best of footing anyways, but you couldn’t find the will or words.

Mark held a hand over his mouth again and another on his hip as he turned away from you for a moment. When he finally faced you again, all endearment for you had left his eyes. “You really just let him do this?” Before you could respond in your defense, he rattled on. “You knew he liked you, and now you used that to hurt me? To hurt him?”

“I don’t want to hurt him!” You raised your voice, “I never wanted to hurt him, but whatever happened—it’s become more than I expected.”

“More than you want too, right?” Mark narrowed his gaze and you winced.

“At least he’s there for me,” You weakly threw back, “don’t act like you’re any better.”

“I never said I was,” Mark frowned, his hands falling back to his side as he began to walk away from the school. “but at least I know better than to purposefully use someone.”

Damn him for hurting you yet always being moral. You watched him walk away from you and you bit your lip. “I know you still like me!”

He paused and looked over his shoulder at you, his eyes steely calm in the storm. “And I know you still like me, but look where that’s gotten us.” He trained his gaze on you for a second longer, to drive his point home, before he turned on his heel and his form grew smaller and smaller.

You finally found the strength to take the last step from the staircase once he was out of sight. You took a deep breath to try and calm your frazzled nerves and beating heart, yet you were sure it would take hours before you could calm from the incident. You gripped the railing for some kind of hold before mustering the will to finally walk home.

Because after that, you needed something to cling to more than you ever did.

———

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” You weakly called to Donghyuck as you eyed Jeno’s house.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?” He answered, sending you a glance. He squeezed your hand. “It’s just a house party. And Mark will be there.”

You shut your eyes and groaned inwardly. “That’s just what I was afraid of,” you mumbled, smiling at your boyfriend when he looked back in question for what you said.

It had been a few weeks since your encounter with the brunette, and truly, you weren’t sure if you wanted to see him. It would only stir up the feelings you had been trying to repress. And it’s not like Hyuck was really trying to push him towards you anymore; he had settled into the supposed relationship with you and you felt too terrible to attempt and leave him, afraid it would hurt him like Mark said.

You bit the inside of your cheek as Donghyuck knocked on the door and it swung open to reveal Jeno’s smile. His eyes scanned you both before greeting you and letting you in. With a polite smile in thanks, you moved past him and checked out the room.

It was just in his living room for their group of friends; Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun, Donghyuck, and, tragically, Mark. Jeno had decided against inviting his girlfriend, and apparently Jisung was supposed to come and bring along a new friend of his, but they had to cancel at the last minute. Good thing, probably, seeing how majority of the boys weren’t good influences to begin with.

Jaemin with his drinking and smoking problems, Renjun with his little tattoo and piercing parlor, Jeno with his old fighting bets, and Mark with his band and, well, relationship with you. Jisung really shouldn’t have even gotten involved with them; the worst he’s done is steal a candy bar from the grocery store, if you had to guess. Donghyuck was rather normal, if you thought about it; he would play pranks but was a rather average kid. Maybe that’s why you didn’t want to ruin him yourself.

All of the mentioned boys were sat on the large sofa against the wall, or majority, since you heard some clanking in the kitchen. Before Donghyuck and Jeno could take you to the loveseat, you heard the voices in the kitchen grow louder and you turned your head to see Jaemin and Mark with a few beer bottles in hand. You straightened subconsciously and detangled your fingers from between Donghyuck’s as your eyes met Mark’s.

You hadn’t talked since your interaction outside of the school building, and the mere sight of him had your breath hitching in your throat. He had paused in his conversation and his eyes bore into yours, taking in your appearance. His eyes traveled between you and Hyuck before he started up his words again, brushing past you intentionally as they made their way to sit with their friends.

You had to shake your head to manage some sense of normalcy and react to Donghyuck’s raised brow.

You tried to smile brightly at him, “Would you like to go sit down?”

His eyes subtly looked towards Mark before settling back on you. His expression was blank and you felt an incoming dread at the thought of him finding out that you’re not over Mark, but then he grinned back. “Sure.”

You wearily took his arm and moved to the loveseat; you instantly made eye contact with Mark again, almost challenging in the way of him showing he’s not over you either. He frowned and faced away, his arm coming up to bring the bottle to his lips.

Once Jeno was sat down as well, conversations began to flow. There was no rhyme or reason and multiple voices spoke over each other at the same time. It was almost a nice white noise to get you out of your thoughts and away from the obligation to Hyuck or the feelings for Mark. Everyone grew progressively louder and more boisterous as the amount of alcohol consumed increased, and it reached its peak as Jaemin raised a hand.

“Okay, okay, what about we play a game?” Jaemin smiled a lopsided, mischievous grin.

“What game?” Jeno hiccuped, his brows furrowing.

Jaemin took a minute to respond, almost like he was thinking as he fiddled with an empty beer bottle. He then placed it on the ground and spun it, watching it make its rounds. Then he smiled, that devious look in his eyes. “Spin the bottle.”

Donghyuck shook his head, slowly but promptly. “(Y/n)’s the only girl; I’m not going to make her kiss all of you.”

Jaemin shook his head, “it’s not just her; we could all kiss or if we want, it could be like a truth or dare type of thing. Like kiss, or do something else—hopefully even more undesirable, but you get the point. Are we game?”

No one really responded until Renjun sighed and rubbed at his eye. “I’m gonna regret this, but let’s do it; why not.” But then he pointed at Jaemin with a scowl. “If you dare me to lick a toilet seat or something, I swear—“

“No promises, but I’ll start.” Jaemin laughed a little drunkenly as he took a strong go at the bottle. It spun widely and slowed till it settled on Renjun. His jaw dropped and he glared at Jaemin, who was smiling a little too wide.

“Don’t you dare—“

“I dare you to go lick the toilet seat.”

“I will end you.”

“Would you rather kiss me?”

“God, no.”

“Then get a move on.”

Renjun’s gaze could have burned Jaemin alive where he sat before he disappeared down the hall. Jeno winced and followed him to make sure he completed the dare before coming back to take a long swig of his beer.

“You’re terrible,” he directed his grimace towards Jaemin who only shrugged.

“He agreed to play.”

Renjun came back around the corner and he was vigorously wiping at his tongue. “I hope you know I will get you back for that.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” Renjun hit Jaemin on the back of the head before sitting back down. Jaemin rubbed at the afflicted area nonchalantly. “Who’s next?”

And so it went down the line; it went between a few of the boys like a battle and then the bottle would land on another every once in a while. You only had to do one dare of sending a pickup line to a random number and you were pretty content. You had then dared Jeno to drink a weird combination of beers, and he challenged Mark to balance a bottle on his finger for ten seconds. After he completed his dare, he spun the bottle leisurely, obviously not too enthused. At least, he wasn’t until the beer bottle slowed on you.

You sucked in a deep breath as Mark froze and met your gaze. “So, kiss or dare?” Jaemin teased. Jeno elbowed the boy in warning, bu Jaemin was too far gone to care. They all knew your history.

Mark hesitated but didn’t look away from you. “Kiss.” He was tense, but his voice had a firmness to it.

Donghyuck stiffened beside you. You nervously looked at him to see his narrowed gaze and deep frown. “Do you really think you should?”

Mark met his gaze, uncertainty but a want swirling in his own. Before he could open his mouth to defend himself or withdraw his choice, Jaemin shook his head.

Chill, dude; it’s just a kiss.” Donghyuck met Jaemin’s gaze with a frown, but he looked around the room at everyone’s reactions before he unhappily silenced himself.

With no other complaints, Mark apprehensively crawled over so there was only a little bit of space between you, where your air mingled. “Are you okay with this?” His voice was hushed; intimate, yet nervous.

“Yes,” you noticed how sharply Hyuck’s eyes turned to you. You tried to only focus on the boy in front of you. “It’s only a kiss.”

Mark’s and Hyuck’s eyes burned into you until yours and the formers closed, his hands caressing your jaw as your lips grazed each other.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Your eyes fluttered open to witness Donghyuck pulling on Mark’s collar. Mark’s eyes widened but he gulped, shaking his head.

“Our lips barely touched, Hyuck.” Hyuck’s brows drew in as he looked to you for support, but you couldn’t even find it in yourself to try and see him side.

“That wasn’t a kiss,” You agreed, and you favored Mark’s skittish smile instead of Donghyuck’s glare; this was the only way you two could kiss without it being wrong.

Your boyfriend let your ex go reluctantly, a diffident grimace crossing his face as he did so. Mark awkwardly settled back down in front of you, ghosting his hands over the back of your head before he gained the nerve to kiss you again. He held it; chaste, yet romantic—as best it could be, with all his friends staring, anyways. He parted from your lips but only by a hair; you both kept your eyes closed as you savored the moment, and his lips absently conjoined with yours again.

The second kiss lasted less than a moment before he was ripped apart from you by Donghyuck. You shot open your eyes with a gasp as you watched in shock as your kind, funny boyfriend pulled Mark away and to the ground, his eyes hard and frown firm.

All earlier signs of the fun party were gone as Jeno, Renjun, and Jaemin started to shout and try to separate the two boys. Hyuck was on top of Mark, threatening things that you couldn’t quite catch over the other boys. He threw punches that the latter wasn’t expecting and managed to block. Mark’s lip was busted, but then his gaze hardened and he got a grip on Hyuck’s shirt. They rolled, and everyone scrambled to get out of the way, realizing their pulling on the boy’s’ clothes to be futile.

They tumbled along the ground and Mark came out on top. Mark’s hold tightened as he stopped the rolling abruptly; he lifted the younger boy slightly to throw him back down, to knock the wind out of him, maybe to get him to calm down—

The sound of glass shattering ripped through like violent moment like lightning. Mark’s face morphed into one of shock and he stared in horror at Hyuck’s expression of pain, his eyes shut tight and breath coming out in shallow pants. It was like time had stopped as everyone stared in horror at the terrible scene.

But then time was thrown into fast forward as everyone tried to speak over each other, clambering to get closer to the injured boy. You weren’t able to move; everything happened so quickly and then here you were, watching the world tumble down. Mark was pushed off of Hyuck roughly by Jaemin, who had sobered up rather quickly to care for his friend. He glared at Mark before aiding Renjun in trying to help Hyuck sit up, so he was off of the glass pressing into and impaling his back; Jeno was across the room, talking hurriedly into the phone that you presumed to be 911.

Mark was like you; unable to comprehend the situation nor recognize that he was the reason one of his closest friends was hurt. He opened and closed his mouth before his eyes found yours and he looked to you pleadingly, to understand that he didn’t mean for anything bad to happen; Hyuck’s howl of pain tore through you both and you dropped your gaze as your eyes watered.

It was deja vu; Mark scrambles in a daze to pick up his jacket and move to the door, gazing upon you and the scene before him in shame because he had once again pained someone dear to him. He must have assumed his presence would not be appreciated there any longer so with one final look, he slammed the door like he had months before.

———

You gently placed a hand on Hyuck’s shoulder as he started up the steps to the school building.

“Are you okay?” You hesitantly asked, peering over your hand at his face.

He craned his neck towards you and tried for a smile, but it was more similar to a grimace. “I’m fine; just a couple cuts, right?”

You sighed and came around to walk beside him, a steadying hand on his forearm. “Yeah, from glass that cut into your back,” you rolled your eyes, but squeezed his arm out of anxiousness. He paused briefly and glanced at your own side profile before squeezing your hand back.

You and Hyuck hadn’t dared whisper Mark’s name or talk of your kiss of the party two nights prior. You and his friends had taken him to the hospital (since the ambulance was too much money), and had him in the emergency room at three in the morning. Thankfully, the glass hadn’t injured him too severely like any organs, but it did hurt. Though his friends might have argued that the bill hurt their wallets more.

And yet, you still felt like you and Donghyuck were walking a very thin wire; like you were tiptoeing over the glass that cut him when you were around each other. You knew he wasn’t blind; he had to have seen how you and Mark acted and yet he still hadn’t said anything about breaking up—you almost tripped when you thought of being accused of cheating. Because no, you were never supposed to be in a real relationship to begin with. And yet, how were you supposed to end things now? How did it get so muddled to begin with?

You began to wonder why Donghyuck would ever want to be with you in the first place.

“Yo, how’s your back? Actually, are you both okay? You look kinda pale.” You were snapped out of your thoughts at Jeno’s appearance, his eyes furrowed in concern and hands on his backpack straps.

“Uh,” you snuck a glance at Donghyuck and his distant expression before opting for a smile, “I’m okay. Just worried!” You forced out a laugh and winced at Donghyuck’s minuscule wince. You hurried to speak again, “his back’s doing okay; we changed the bandages this morning and it looks like whatever meds they used are working.”

Jeno nodded but his gaze was fixed on Donghyuck’s. He managed to tear his gaze away in time to meet yours, but he had that same confounded helplessness in his eyes. He tried for a comforting grin, “Well that’s good. I hope it heals soon, man.” He fistbumped Donghyuck lazily before moving past you.

You sighed quietly and coaxed your boyfriend to move forward with you; you had taken it upon yourself to make sure he got to his classes and take care of his wounds, since you felt like you were responsible for it. You were sure Donghyuck thought that too.

Not many people knew of Donghyuck’s injury, but apparently news was spreading seeing as how some teens were beginning to stare. You scowled to yourself and instantly guessed the blame was to be put on Jaemin and his need for the top gossip.

Yet it wasn’t only random people staring; as you wearily looked about the hall, you made eye contact with the one person you really didn’t want to see.

Mark’s gaze was trained on you and Hyuck like a hawk, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth and looking like he was about to head your way. You had only a second to take in his appearance before a random girl came up to you and the honey-haired boy beside you.

“Hey! So I heard you fell on glass? How’d that happen?” Mark froze in his steps towards you. She was obviously excited to hear the details and it almost made you want to push her to the side and pull Donghyuck along. You would’ve too, if Hyuck didn’t perk up a little.

“Oh,” you felt yourself starting to feel sick. Was the truth really about to come out? “I just fell; nothing special.” And Hyuck laughed.

“Oh,” the girl deflated and you looked at him in shock. You almost felt worse that Donghyuck chose to defend Mark instead of ratting him out; you wanted him to be mad at Mark, to be mad at you. It’d make it easier.

Mark must have felt the same way as you glanced back at him; his bottom lip had escaped to fit into a slack jaw, his eyes wide. His eyes met yours and his gaze grew into something darker, pained and stifled as he turned away down the other corridor, whatever he had planned to say to you out the window.

It wasn’t until after school when you were leaving with Donghyuck that Mark made his reappearance. His expression was more determined, though a little unsure, as he stopped before you in the courtyard.

“Donghyuck—“ he started, his feet moving in time to cut off the boy in question. Donghyuck didn’t seem enthused; his usual friendly disposition switched for something cold. “Hey, please give me a moment.”

You warily watched the scene unfold; Hyuck finally stood still and his hand in yours went slack as his brows furrowed in dislike. “What.”

Mark flinched but quickly recovered, “I hope you know I didn’t mean to hurt you—is your back okay?”

He pursed his lips before replying, “yes, it’s okay.”

“And about what happened at the party—the kiss, the fight—“

“I’m not talking about this with you.”

Donghyuck ducked around Mark and pulled you in tow. Mark followed him in disbelief. “Hyuck, we need to. That’s where the problem is—“

“What did I tell you about calling me Hyuck?” He turned abruptly with a dull fire in his eyes, and you bumped into his back in surprise. Mark gazed upon him in a vulnerable kind of puzzlement and exasperation. Hyuck gestured at him crossly, “and no, I’m not talking about this with her here. I’m not talking to you about it. The problem is not with the party, it’s with you.” Hyuck glared at him fiercely before drawing you along again.

You felt like you could’ve done something in that moment, as you looked between the two in disbelief. Hyuck, angry, and Mark, hurt, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stand up for either. Surely you could’ve broken away and said something for yourself, but what would you have done? So instead you chose to walk with your boyfriend, but unable to break through his stony exterior; you couldn’t place where everything went wrong.

———

Days passed. Hyuck smiled at you less and less, at least, less genuinely. And maybe you should’ve been happy; maybe he was finally getting over you and realizing how terrible of a person you were. And yet it only made you feel worse to know that even he could think so. You had all withdrawn into yourselves, choosing to be with your thoughts than with each other, yet neither were the most inviting places.

And so you decided to walk to school early on your own that morning instead of with Donghyuck; you bitterly thought that maybe he’d enjoy the time away from you—it’s not like he needed you much more seeing that his back was almost fully healed. You had sent him a quick text of your whereabouts though, in case he so happened to want to come early to be with you, but you highly doubted it. You almost hoped he’d break up with you soon just to ease your nerves.

The colder air of the incoming winter nipped at your skin but was a welcome distraction from the turmoil in your heart and head. You dug your hands deeper into your hoodie pockets as you ascended the school steps; the lights were on, but no students mingled in the halls.

You lifted a hand to pull open the door before you caught a glimpse of a person by the column at the top of the stairs. You kept your hand on the door but sighed mock-exasperatedly, “We have to stop meeting like this.” You pointedly turned your head to face Mark, who had nervously come out of the shadows.

“I didn’t know how else to talk to you privately without hurting Hyuck.”

“You didn’t seem to care when you kissed me.”

“Neither did you,” He bit, but there was no menace in his tone; only a flat tone of ruefulness. You lowered your gaze but stepped away from the door’s light and more into the shadows. He watched you with a dull want, “but that’s what we need to talk about.”

“I’m sure,” you breathed, running a hand through your hair, “What are we supposed to do?”

Mark shrugged, “I tried to talk to him; you were there. He won’t listen to me, so much as talk to me.”

“So what? Am I just supposed to break up with him? Do it like taking off a band aid?”

“No, but—ugh, I don’t know how else to do it,” He exhaled slowly and absently let his hand come up to twirl your hair; you didn’t find it in you to push him away. “I don’t want to hurt him anymore than I already have.”

“Do you think I do?” You scoffed with a humorless laugh but your voice lowered in tone, “but I think we’ve hurt him beyond what he can handle anyways.”

Mark looked up to meet your gaze somberly, “I’m afraid you’re right.” He hesitated before his gaze subconsciously dropped to your mouth. You could see him struggle to lift it back to your eyes, knowing that if he were to kiss you now, it would solidify a promise a heartbreak.

But it’s not like it could be delayed any longer. “I’ll talk to him today,” you apprehensively brushed your hand over his, “I think he knows anyway; I wouldn’t be surprised if he wanted to break up with me already.” You forced the words out bitterly and Mark took notice, a sympathetic, sad smile gracing his lips for but a moment.

You stared at one another you before you both hesitated and slowly moved forward to slip your lips into place. It couldn’t have lasted very long; it was simple and short, just something to help you both through the decision you had made until you heard the displaced rocks crunch on the cement landing behind you.

You broke away, prepared to talk down to some random classmate before you made horrified eye contact with Donghyuck. He was bundled up in a sweatshirt you always teased that you liked and in his hand was his phone, open to the text you sent with your whereabouts. You shut your eyes in regretful defeat, his blank expression haunting as it engraved itself in your mind.

“I should have expected this; my girlfriend with my best friend.” You opened your eyes to see his growing glower. Mark was wide-eyed beside you; you knew he was moral no matter how bad of things he’s done, so this had to tear him up inside.

“Obviously I didn’t do my job as a rebound if you still went back to him,” Hyuck glared, “I wasn’t a good enough boyfriend if you didn’t want to be with me.”

“It wasn’t that—“ you tried to explain, your voice pleading. His expression grew more and more angered.

“How is it not?” He hissed, arms crossed as his gaze traveled between you and Mark, a dull agony beginning to show in his eyes. “I’m not going to lie, I had hoped that maybe, just maybe I could make you like me. But Mark here was such a terrible person to you and yet you’re still in love with him. How can I compare when I’m constantly outshone?”

“Donghyuck, that’s not it—“ Mark tries to cut in this time, a grimace taking over his expression.

“Stop telling me I’m wrong when I know.” And you wished he would scream at you, point fingers, curse you out but he was bottling up his rage and hurt, poking out here and there but waiting to burst at the seams. “I’m still fucking in love with you, but you don’t see shit.”

You had to look away from him, pressing your lips together. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

“I blame Mark.” Mark’s eyes widened as he looked helplessly at Hyuck, blinded by his pain. “If he treated you right, I wouldn’t have been with you. If he had stayed away, we might’ve been okay. Mark is the reason for this, and for that I’ll never forgive him. Because my best friend is the one kissing my girlfriend.”

“Donghyuck, you can’t place all the blame on him, I’m guilty of cheating too.” You tried to reason, as much as you didn’t want to hurt him further, you knew it had to be said. And now that it was out in the open—that you were a cheater, a type of person you’d always despised—you couldn’t hate yourself more.

He shook his head vehemently, “But it’s Mark who—“

You shut your eyes in anguish, but your tone was firm. “I’m sorry I couldn’t feel the same way about you.”

Donghyuck stumbled back a step, his anger subsiding but an overlooming expression like he was lost and close to his breaking point took its place. “You,” he retracted his hand and took a shaky breath, but his voice was unforgiving, “you said I was too good for you.”

You pressed a hand to your mouth to keep your composure as your eyes watered from shame. “You are.”

He shuffled his feet as he let the words sink in. You were telling him that even though he was the best thing for you, you didn’t want him, or he wasn’t enough for you. And that had to be the last straw to break what was holding him together.

His breathing picked up and his eyes found no place safe to rest. Mark put a hand out, trying to pull him back in, to comfort him but with one step forward, Donghyuck took one step back until he finally focused a watery, yet hardening gaze on you as he threw open the front door and went through.

You and Mark made no move to go after him.

———

“Has he answered you?”

“No. You?”

“Not once,” you sighed and placed down your phone, where eight unanswered calls to Donghyuck lay to taunt you. You were sure Mark had even more.

“Are you sure he hasn’t blocked us?” You questioned with a wince, and Mark only spared you a moment's glance as he began typing away at his screen again.

“My phone doesn’t say anything; until it does, I’m going to keep texting him.” You looked over at his phone and the blue stream of unread texts on his part. It’s been days.

You blankly looked at the rest of his band mates setting up to play their gig; it didn’t quite seem real. “I’ve heard he’s starting to drink with Jaemin.” Mark paused and bit at his lip but didn’t say anything. “We’ve ruined him, haven’t we?”

He closed his eyes and took in your distant tone. You knew he thought he was the sole one to blame, but you were even worse if that was possible. You looked back at him with your unreadable eyes. “We’re terrible people.”

Mark finally turned off his phone and stared ahead at his untouched guitar before his attention made its way to you. He wet his lips.

“We are.”

But we are together.

#dreamiesnetwork #smtownnetwork #nct #nct fanfiction #mark #nct angst #nct suggestive #nct scenario #mark angst #mark suggestive #mark scenario #mark x reader #mark fanfiction #cinanamon #we're just friends #yes its mot bazzi 'alone' inspired anymore bc it didn't fit well enough :(

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brianharoldmayjune · 5 years

Text

class mates | brian may

CHAPTER ONE

Brian May x Reader College AU

Summary: First time for anything is usually hard, so when you start your first year of undergrad, you begin to second guess your decisions. What may seem to be a tiny nerdy club to get your mind off of the stresses brough to you by your major, might soon transform into something more meaningful in the long run.

Warnings: Nothing bad in this chapter, cheek blushing, akwardsness, that it! No smut or angst... yet!

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: I am terribly sorry if this seems like a boring, textual chapter. I felt the need to explain everything as thoroughly as possible in order to understand the context of everything. Future chapters won’t have lengthy, boring starts like this one! But, nervertheless, I still hope you enjoy this first chapter!

Trying to mind your own business while walking down the sidewalk, multiple shoulders continued to brush your own as you made your way down the busy London street. You had recently moved to the lively area of Kensington to pursue the next step in your life- completing your undergraduate degree.

Renting a small loft located on the outskirts of the heart of London city, you decided it would be best to live closer to the place you would be spending majority of your time throughout the months to come. Being your first year starting university, a unviersity filled with people you had never met, located in an area you hadn’t grown up in, you knew living in the area would save you the additional first year stress of commuting.

With a sticky note in hand, you had written down your destination prior to leaving your apartment knowing you would most likely get lost without it; and of course, you were right. Your vision was exchanging between your note and the street signs attempting to find the location of the university itself.

Bringing a hand up to readjust the sunglasses perched on your nose, you continued on your journey down the sidewalk until letters spelling out Imperial College London filled your peripherals assuring you that you were so far walking in the correct direction. Breathing out a dramatic sigh of relief, you mentally prepared yourself for finding the next location, the location that happened to be the destination of your first lecture.

With what took only a few left and rights, you arrived at the front doors of the building where your Intro to Biology lecture would be held. Yes, you were evidently about to major in Biological Sciences. Taking one last glance at your note to memorize the number of the lecture hall, you shoved the piece of paper into your pocket upon embarking into the large brick building.

You found yourself mesmerized at the many posters plastered across the walls, advertising for the various clubs and events located on the campus. To be quite frank, your nerves were bubbling inside of you as you started to question whether going to post-secondary was the right step for you. I mean, what student doesn’t second guess their educational choices?

With your nerves subsiding within, you found yourself walking into your first lecture hall lined, or should I say crammed, with over a hundred seats and tiny desks. It was pretty intimidating. With desks already occupied with students, you decided to pick a seat near the back corner of the room in hopes of avoiding interaction with the others who were enrolled in the class. It was only your first day, and although making friends seemed to be a go-to idea, it wasn’t exactly your main priority.

Getting out a few pens and a notepad with a few minutes to spare, you tapped your foot anxiously against the floor as you watched the class fill up. With nearly every seat occupied, class soon began right on time.

Even though the professor was only going over the syllabus and not the hard-core material, you found yourself zoning in and out of attention, something surely other kids were doing. After what felt like an eternity but more realistically around an hour, the professor bid the class farewell till the following week and let you free.

Packing your stuff while making slight glances to the people situated around you, you mentally cursed at yourself for being too socially awkward and too shy, which ultimately hindered the starting of conversations. Walking out of the hall, intro to biologywas your only class that day meaning you would most likely be on your way back to your loft.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, you stopped yourself as a particular poster taped to the hallway wall grabbed your attention. Referring to a club dealing with astronomy, inviting those majoring and not majoring in physics. You were quick to pull out a pen from your material carrier bag alongside your crumpled sticky note that you had previously shoved into your pocket to drought down the place and time of meeting.

The topic of astronomy had always seemed to fascinate you, and not having room in your course schedule for electives dealing with astronomical related matter meant joining a club would be in your best interest.

With the first club meeting taking place that night, you continued on your walk back to your flat where you proceeded to take a power nap and cook yourself a quick dinner. Sorting through your clothes, an audible string of shit’sand hurry upcame out of your mouth repeatedly as your frantically rushed around your room looking for something to wear. You could not, I stress could not, be late to the first meeting.

Yeah, you could've just worn what you were wearing earlier that day, but, you wanted to look a touch more presentable knowing that you would be having no choice but to interact with the other goers of the club. Slipping on a pair of jeans paired with a collared shirt that popped out from under a knit shirt, you once again were back to walking down the London sidewalks with the same note in hand. Only this time, the streets weren’t as crowded with pedestrians compared to the morning due to it being a later time in the evening.

Finding the building at a quicker pace then your first lecture, most likely a factor of not many students creating a hassle around the campus, you braced yourself as you stood in front of the door to the club meeting destination. Once again, you found yourself second-guessing your decisions. Was it really a smart idea to join a club dealing with a subject you weren’t solely studying?

As your mind juggled between the opportunities of making friends with the juxtaposing idea of possible humiliation, you were taken out of your thoughts when a soft tap was felt on your shoulder.

“Will you be going in?”

The question was soft yet mixed with slight confusion.

Noticing you were standing in front of the door and blocking the entrance for others, you quickly reached out your hand to grab the door knob, turning your head to get a brief view of the person.

“Sorry.”

That was all you managed to get out, opening the door before walking away quickly to avoid any response from the person. With this being a smaller room compared to your lecture hall, a few desks and chairs were scattered around, facing a black board that was mounted at the front of the room.

Taking a seat at the back of the less intimidating room, you placed your bag on the floor beside you as you rested your elbows on the desk, scoping out the room. There were around fifteen students, including yourself, looking eager as ever to participate in whatever this club had to offer.

The walls, similar to the ones in the hallways, were filled with posters strictly relating to astronomy, picturing different diagrams and layouts of the solar system, milky way, you name it.

“Alright,” a familiar soft voice filled the room at a volume raised just enough for everyone to distinctly hear.

Drawing your attention towards the front of the class, you found yourself eyeing the person that you had minutes before made conversation with, if that could even be classified as a conversation. Giving a slight clear of his throat, he continued.

“Welcome, and I guess thank you for dropping in to today’s first club meeting,” the man spoke with a small smile spread across his face while his hands were held in front of him, fiddling with his fingers.

Taking in the boy’s presence, you couldn't help yourself but aimlessly graze your eyes over his lanky figure. Maybe this club wasn’t going to be as bad as you thought.

“If you were unaware, which I’m sure you guys aren’t,” he said with brief chuckle, earning small giggles from the few students scattered around the room, “we are going to be discussing things in relation to astronomy.” With that, he gestured to the posters covering the walls of the room. The posters that gave the room much more life.

As he continued to talk, the boy would switch between slight swaying of his body, to quiet finger tapping on the desk closest to him, as he explained the various activities and mini field trips the club would engage in. Taking only twenty minutes to do so, you were more intrigued with what the club had to offer than your mandatory biology course that morning.

“Being a student like you guys, only in my second year of majoring in physics, I am going to make this as fun and interesting as possible,” the boys said with a nod at the end of his sentence, almost as if he were reassuring himself.

“Any questions?”

With a few students asking questions pertaining to missing club meetings and confirming the date of certain events the boy had already planned, you decided it would be better to just listen in and save questions, if any were to arise, for later on during the term.

“Before you guys leave,” the boy spoke after answering the student questions, “if you wouldn’t mind writing a tiny paragraph about what you hope to learn from this club, that would be great.”

He gave a few lose leaf pages of lined paper and a tiny box of pencils to a student sitting at the front of the class, telling them to take one of each and pass them around in case anyone forgot their writing materials.

“Be sure to write your name at the top of the paper along with your major and year just so I get to know you all better.”

With the hint of nervousness lacing his tone, you were getting the feeling this may have been his first time instructing a club as such.

“If you’ve decided, after my short spiel, that this club isn’t for you, no hard feelings but do feel free to leave without writing a reflection,” he spoke, smile failing to fall from his face. The boy did seem passionate about the this branch of physics.

Turning around to grab his own notepad and pencil from his bag, he started to write down his own notes.

“Oh, and not to forget,” he spoke, looking up from his piece of paper, “my name is Brian.”

After his final remarks, he left the students to work on a small reflection as he continued to stand at the front of the class, writing notes of the front pedestal. A few students trickled out without writing anything, most likely indicating that this wasn’t the club for them, though, that wasn’t the case for you.

Taking out your own notepad and a pen, you wrote your name at the top of the paper followed by a few lines of what you were excited to learn about during your time in the club. After a couple of minutes, you tore out the sheet from your notebook, putting your stuff in your bag, slinging it over your shoulder. Walking to the front of the class, you approached the so-called Brian, holding out your paper for him to take.

Looking up from his writing, he held his hand out to take the page from you, the smile that had been presented all class, now being presented to you personally “thank you… y/n,” said with a brief pause as he located your name on the sheet.

Giving him a smile and a small bob of the head as a substitute for ‘you’re welcome,’ you were about to turn away when his words stopped you.

“First year in biological sciences?” Brian questions, clearly already reading through your written response. He too was eager like the remained of the club.

“It is,” you nod, looking up to examine his face as his eyes scanned over your paper. He was sudden to look up from your writing to you.

“I’m taking a few entry level biology courses as my electives,” he acknowledges, placing your sheet down on the pile that was already accumulated from the other student responses, “maybe I’ll see you around!”

He was so soft-spoken that it made you gush inside, a burning heat rushing to your cheeks. Yes, this was only a simple gesture, a simple statement, but it gave you some hope that your first year could turn out to be enjoyable.

“For sure,” you try to contain yourself, refraining from tugging your lips into a smile wider than the one you were already showing, “have a good one, Brian.”

“You as well, y/n!”

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST

@brianmayswifey @caborhapch @mishago @obsessedwithrogertaylor @doyourememberthelaughter @readinghorn @leah-halliwell92 @cheepygirl @shishterfackisback @fatheadtheroger

If you would like to be added to the tag list, feel free to let me know!

- Yours truly, R.

#Brian May #brian may x reader #brian may imagine #brian may fanfiction #queen fanfiction #Bohemian rhapsody fan fiction #brian may smut #roger Taylor smut #john deacon smut #Roger Taylor x reader #John deacon x reader #ben hardy smut #Joe mazzello smut #ben hardy x reader #Joe mazzello x reader #gwilym lee x reader #gwilym lee smut

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from-a-reckless-writer · 4 years

Text

Okay so I wrote a thing. Well. Actually I got a writing prompt and thought hey, why not? And SO JUST A HEADS-UP THO, THIS ISN'T SIX RELATED LIKE ALL OF MY OTHER POSTS THIS IS JUST ME WRITING A SHORT STORY AND SEEING HOW IT GOES. SO YEAH. btw, @timetoriseabove thanks for the push.

HERE GOES NOTHING...

Who? Who could I call?

I looked at the time, 2 fucking o’clock in the morning. What a great time to deal with this kind of bullshit. So right, who could I call? I can’t call Dad, because if I call Dad I’m pretty sure that in less than 30 minutes the whole family would know what kind of shit I landed myself in again. No, actually not just my family but our entire family tree including that one cousin I hate. I also can’t call Joel, if I call Joel and then he would tell Dad and again, we can’t let Dad know. Oh I know! I could call Aunt Hazel, after all she’s my favorite aunt for a reason.

We can’t call Aunt Hazel, remember that incident last Sunday, the one where you played your I’m-Your-Favorite-Niece-So-Please-Help-Me Card?

Fuck, right I forgot about that, and yeah Aunt Hazel has done me way too many favors, more than I can count. How about Cathy though? I could call Cathy right? No, no, I can’t call Cathy because Cathy’s got a flight tomorrow and that flight was the sole reason why we went celebrating and what inevitably landed me here. So yes, call Cathy and tell her it’s her fault.

You do know it’s not her fault right? How about you call Ben?

Right, Ben have I mentioned Ben? See, Ben was actually the first choice I had in mind, before remembering that yeah, I never really did choose Ben first. Ben. Ben, who is the perfect person to call right now because Ben wouldn’t call my dad and tell my whole family. Ben, who would know what information he has to write down in the forms because he goddamn knows everything about me. Ben, who wouldn’t mind doing me a hundred favors. Ben, who I haven’t talked to in 2 months. My Ben-“So uhm, did you finally reach your emergency person?” my train of thought was cut down when the nurse cleared her throat and spoke to me, the police officer behind her also waiting for my response. God, who knows how long I’ve been here, surrounded by white tiles, blue curtains and the smell of hospitals that makes you sad. “Uh yeah, yeah I know who to call, he’ll be here in a minute.” The nurse nods and they both leave while I try to process the words I had just said. I don’t know who to call, fuck! I can’t believe this, I’m hiding again, hiding the pain. The shock actually came first before the pain, the pain that slowly seeped in and then the fear, because-God, that is way too much blood.

I take a deep breath, grab my phone and finally dialed a number

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Hello?” I groggily answer, I didn’t look at the caller I.D because who the fuck calls at, I steal a glance at the clock on my nightstand-at 2 fucking 15 a.m-what the hell?

“Ben-“ one word, just one syllable really and I instantly know who was calling, Grace. Just like that, all traces of my sleepiness was gone. My mind instantly counted how long it has been since I last spoke to her. Two months, five days and-yeah it was probably a bad idea, but this was Grace. Grace! Godsake it only took one second for her to mess up his life again.

“Hi-uh-you there? Uh I’m sorry to call you I know it’s the middle of the night and-“ she mumbles, “Grace what is it?” I cut her off. “I uhm-I’m in the hospital.” I freeze “What? What hospital?” I’m fully awake now, immediately dressing up and instantly grabbing my green jacket in a hurry. I quickly get my keys, lock the door and by the time Grace has told me the full directions to the hospital, I was already starting up my car.

Just like that, just one word from Grace and all my attention is back on her. Everything is revolving around her again.

What do you mean again? “Again” is a word that implies you stopped. But you never really did stop did you?

“Hey, I’m really really sorry to bother you, promise it won’t take long. I just need someone to assist with the med forms and you can go quickly-“ Grace said through the phone, she was rambling, apologizing but there was something different in her voice. Hesitation maybe? “I promise it’s going to be quick and you don’t have to worry at all.”

I don’t know who you’re trying to convince, me or you.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“Hello,” he answered groggily. God Ben, do you always have to answer this quick? You didn’t even give me time to breathe.

It only took a couple of words from me and suddenly I can hear rustling from the other end. I can picture him, immediately grabbing his green jacket. His green jacket that I’ve worn way too many times, hung inside his room, his room that I’ve also been to, way too many times.

I hear the jangle of his keys and just like that my heart is beating even faster now. What will I say to him? I am so not ready for this. Hey thanks for saving my ass yet again? Thanks for doing this even if you shouldn’t really be doing this?

“Hey Grace you still there?” he asked, “Yeah, yeah I’m still here.”

He asked, and I can hear the fear in his voice. You know Ben, I can feel it too the fear, and I keep fearing that my answer to your question will always be “I’m here.”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

When I got out of the car, I went straight to the Emergency Room. There was a nurse near your bed and a police officer and the driver of the car that hit you. He looked young, like really young. He looked like he would shit his pants if I told his Dad that his car hit somebody.

When the officer saw me then the nurse and then you. They started to talking to me and handed me papers but it was hard to take my eyes off of you. There was a bandage wrapped around your entire left leg. A few bruises on your arm and a small cut under your eye. You looked bad. So bad that I now realize why you called me first. Yeah, because I know that you don’t want your family to know. I know so many things about you, but right now I don’t know what to say to you.

Because what the fuck do you say in a situation like this?

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Step.

Dizzy.

Step.

Head-spinning.

Step-

Flashing lights-

Whoosh! BANG!

Oh, shit.

Pain-

Black.

“Here, coffee.” You gave me the cup, it tasted bland. Oh god, don’t even try to complain that it doesn’t taste like coffee. I know that you got the coffee from the vending machine down the hall. I don’t know what to say, because what to say in a situation like this? You can’t joke lightly, you can’t hug him, you can’t touch him. I can’t do anything right.

“Thank you-“ I started, “Pfft-it’s just coffee you don’t have to thank me.” you answer, you’re wearing the green jacket.

“No-I mean for coming and helping me and everything.” The coffee was hot that was why my hands were sweating. The coffee, not because he’s near me again and not because he’s running his fingers through his hair. It is also not because of the fact that you’re trying to avoid my eyes.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

There are 120 tiles inside this room.

Yeah because counting tiles is more interesting than her? Very convincing Ben.

“Why were you out so late? Why didn’t you just sleep at Cath’s?”

“Peter was there, it was their last night before Cath flies out tomorrow. I wanted them to-“

“Yeah, of course that’s it. Of course you want them to have that moment.” You sigh and shake your head.

“ You never drink.”

“What? Am I not allowed to drink all of a sudden?”

“You’re not allowed, if it’s just going to land you in situations like this! And I end up the one to pick it all over again, clean the mess!”

Whoa, and I thought breaking my left leg was painful enough, I guess it’s not. I stay quiet at your little outburst, I can hear you breathing heavily, I can hear you breaking.

“Then you shouldn’t have come.” I finally say.

“Then you shouldn’t have answered the phone in the first place.” I finish.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“I can’t.” I answer her.

I can’t because if I don’t come then, Grace that means it’s over.

“You didn’t really mean it like that, do you?”

“Mean what?” I ask playing innocent.

“It’s a quarter past 3.” There you go again, changing the subject, running, hiding. That’s what you like, that’s what you were good at. Asking me vague questions and giving me vague answers. Well, now it’s my turn to give you vague answers, it’s my turn to ask you vague questions.

“Grace what’s gonna be the ending?” I ask.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

“The sun will rise.”

I answer, I never really liked giving straightforward answers. I prefer the safety of mysteries and vagueness. But of course you already know that. You know everything. That’s why you asked me that question.

So, how will this end? I never liked these kind of situations, because they require the truth.

I never did like truths. But I guess a part of me doesn’t want to answer because maybe, I don’t want it to end. Not yet anyway. What I said was true though, the sun will rise and a new dawn will break. I wonder where will we find ourselves then?

SO YEAH IF U REACHED THIS PART THANK YOU FOR READING. LET ME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS, OR IF I SHOULD STOP, IF U WANT TO GIVE ME A PROMPT. I WOULD LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU GUYS.

Love from a reckless writer. 😘

#should i write more?#PLEASE PLEASE BE KIND IM KIND OF NEW TO ALL THIS.#Writing #Original characters.#Original story

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purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

916

What Rhymes With “AIR”?

1. Are the walls of your room bare or do you have things hanging up there? I have some things on the wall, yes. A few paintings, Audrey Hepburn wall decors, and a poster of Nam Joo Hyuk. I used to have wrestling posters but my mom, ever the control freak, removed them because she didn’t like them. Sigh.

2. When’s the last time you went outside to enjoy the fresh air? I went out this morning to take Cooper to the vet for his anti-rabies shot. I didn’t necessarily do it to enjoy the fresh air, but that came along with the experience as well anyway.

3. Do you watch the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air? I started watching it this month actually! It’s super fun and Will Smith’s physical comedy is hilarious, but it isn’t really the type of show I’d binge-watch given how old the jokes and some of the tropes already are. I definitely don’t dislike it, but I just take longer to watch the episodes.

4. When’s the last time it felt like you were walking on air? Sunday, when I had my virtual grad and found out my parents and aunt and uncle got all my favorite food delivered to the house :) We had baked sushi, baked samgyeopsal, Pancit Malabon, and pichi-pichi that day, aaaaahhhhhh.

5. Have you ever been on air, on a radio station? Very briefly. One of our field trips in high school was a visit to a major broadcasting network, and we we were brought to their AM radio studio. The broadcaster on air at the time – one of my favorites of all time – welcomed us and gave us a chance to say hi on air.

6. Have you ever felt like all of the air was coming out of your lungs? Sure, but I guess it’s more accurate to say that I’ve occasionally felt the sensation of my chest increasingly tightening.

7. Has it seemed as though anything has ever disappeared into thin air? Have you ever pulled an idea out of thin air? The first one, yes. I have this stupid ability to drop a certain thing and have it disappear forever; I hate that it happens to me all the time lol.

I can relate with the second situation as well; when I was still in school and had to write essays, reaction papers, anything of the sort, I’d wait till the last possible minute to start working on it since it’s by then that the good ideas start pouring in.

8. Have you ever wanted to be on “Who Wants to Be a Millionaire”? Sure. I’ve enjoyed trivia for as long as I can remember, so the show has always been right up my alley.

9. Do you know a billionaire in real life? No. I know a loooot of CEO kids, kids of MNC owners/executives, and kids of political dynasties though...comes with the environment I grew up in and the schools I went to.

10. Would you like to be an heir or heiress to a fortune? I wouldn’t say no to that.

11. Would you be able to successfully get away if you ever came across a bear? The one thing I keep hearing is to stay very still, so I’d be doing my best to do just that. I got no other survival skills though and if there’s apparently anything more that needs to be done during a bear encounter, then I don’t know of them.

12. Where’s your favorite place to go? How long does it take to get there? Hmm I’ve loved going to many places. My favorite vacation spots so far have been Sagada - that’s a 15, 16-hour road trip from Manila; Vigan - 8-hour road trip; and Palawan - an hour or so plane ride from Manila. If we’re taking nearby places, I like going to coffee shops to unwind and have a pastry or two. I don’t have a favorite one; I just go to whichever one’s the nearest to me at the moment.

13. How often do you err on the side of caution? I keep it at a healthy 50/50. There are times I’m okay with taking a big leap, but if I’m not super invested in something anyway and/or if there’s not a lot in it for me, I play it safe.

14. How often do people say they’re angry with you? My life revolves around being a (very cautious) people pleaser and making sure I don’t piss off people. The only people who have told me they’re angry with me are my mom and girlfriend.

15. Do you own any long underwear? I have never heard of these until today. I’d love to live somewhere so cold I need to wear clothes specifically meant to be worn underneath my actual outfit lol

16. How much Tupperware do you own? I’m Filipino, man. Filipino moms practically make it their life’s mission to collect as many Tupperware containers as they can. I’m pretty sure we have a bunch that we didn’t even own to begin with - just magically ended up in our cupboard after all the parties and gatherings we’ve had hahaha.

17. What color is your underwear right now? Green.

18. Do you still sleep with a teddy bear? I never slept with stuffed animals; I preferred pillows.

19. What pair of your shoes has the most wear and tear? In my first year of college the only shoes I owned was a pair of Keds. Used it for everything and it unsurprisingly ended up being super worn out - soles got detached from the shoe and all that. I think we still have it here at home – still destroyed – but it’s been untouched for a while.

20. Do you like to play Solitaire? It was a great boredom buster game for me for a time, especially when phone apps weren’t all that expansive yet. I haven’t played it in many months though.

21. Do you or your family own a full set of silverware? We do.

22. What do you have to take everywhere with you? Phone, wallet, car and house keys. Because of school I’ve also developed a habit of accidentally bringing my laptop nearly everywhere I go – I brought it to the vet once, lol

23. Would you like to visit Delaware? Yes. Delaware actually stands out in my memory because I remember reading in a kids’ almanac many years ago that it was the first to become a US state. Ever since then I’ve kinda bookmarked the place in my head.

24. Last time you received dental care? December. My tooth had been hurting for a couple of months but it became absolutely unbearable by that month so I had to book an emergency appointment days before Christmas. I felt super bad for the hassled dentist (who doubles as a family friend, which made it more embarrassing)... but at that point I was crying myself to sleep every night and would wake up at 3 AM crying in pain, and I would’ve done anything for the toothache to go away.

25. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be? Somewhere brutally cold.

26. Where in the world is Carmen Sandiego? I’ve never been able to relate to this question, lol soz.

27. Are you satisfied sitting here, taking this survey, or would you rather be elsewhere? I’m satisfied for now. I found more potential leads when it came to job-hunting and I’m not feeling too anxious anymore. I’ve been so focused on looking for corporate communications/PR jobs in the private sector that I forgot about the possibility of applying my skills in something I’m even more passionate about - museums! We have a few government agencies focused on museums, culture, and the arts and I definitely see myself performing in the jobs they offer. It’s even better because it’ll help me get my foot in the door in government positions, and as someone who’s indecisive about law it’ll be a great bridge to start with. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

28. Last time you sat in a barber’s chair? Early March.

29. Do you own any cans of compressed air? I’m not sure...had to look that up. Maybe we do? Idk. Dad will sometimes hoard random grownup stuff from the hardware store so I’m not ruling this one out.

30. Do you have a swivel chair at your desk? Nope.

31. Do you prefer an armchair or a rocking chair? Rocking chair.

32. Would you rather have a beanbag chair or a hanging swing chair in your room? Hanging swing chair sounds so hipster and awesome lol. I’ve had my time with a beanbag chair anyway.

33. What’s the last non-survey related questionnaire that you had to fill out? SSS form.

34. Are there any crimes that you feel make someone deserving of the electric chair? Not really a death penalty kinda gal, but if anyone had to sit in the electronic chair it’ll be people torturing and abusing animals for fun.

35. Do you know anyone who uses a wheelchair? Yes.

36. Do you know anyone who is on welfare? I probably do.

37. Do you play Modern Warfare? Nopes.

38. Do you ever feel like life is unfair? It is, objectively. I’m a little pessimistic when it comes to this.

39. Have you ever visited Times Square? No. I dunno if I wanna go there...it seems so crowded and claustrophobic, not to mention super tourist-y haha. I’d love to visit once just to see the bright lights and the giant ads, but I’d much rather be at museums and historical sites.

40. Do you tell people to “take care” at the end of a conversation with them? Sometimes. I’ve been saying it a lot more often these days, for obvious reasons.

41. Where is somewhere that you would like to move to? Canada. But I also feel like if I moved there immediately it would be such a culture shock in terms of the weather, culture, how far away I am from family, etc. and I doubt I would cope well. I suppose I can move to either Vietnam or Singapore first, as kind of like a baby step.

42. What is something in your home that needs to be repaired? One of the stovetop burners stopped working last night and my dad’s determined to fix that.

43. What kind of sleepwear do you own? I go to bed in just my normal home clothes; I don’t change to anything else.

44. What skin care products do you use? Water. ;) I’m one of the lucky ones lol.

45. Do you have any spyware on your computer? Nope.

46. Do you own any sportswear? What sports? I have athletic shorts from when I played table tennis.

47. Do you like Fred Astaire? Sure. I’ve only seen one movie of his (Funny Face) and he was a delight in that.

48. How long does it take you to prepare a meal? I only ever make instant meals, oops.

49. Do you know anyone named Pierre? Yes, Eva’s youngest sister is a Pierre. I’m just not sure if it’s also the same spelling.

50. Are you going nowhere fast? I hope not. I’m giving myself a quick break for now after studying for 18 years straight but like I’m not out of ambition or anything like that at all.

51. How often do you have a nightmare? Not very. They only show up when I’m going through a depression. My last nightmare was two or so years ago.

52. How often are you able to catch something in mid-air? It’s unpredictable with me. Some days my reflexes are great but sometimes I’ll just be so clumsy.

53. What do your lawn chairs look like? Brown and wooden.

54. How many chairs are at your dining/kitchen table? Six; just right for our family of five.

55. Favorite type of footwear? Sneakersssssss.

56. When’s the last time one of your senses were impaired? From what? My left eye still gets irritated from time to time. We never really found out what’s wrong with it; my first checkup happened on the day before lockdown, so we never got to go back. When it starts to act up, I usually have no choice but to wait for it to go away.

57. Have you ever been in a hot air balloon before? No. I’ve been to hot air balloon festivals though. That’s enough for me haha; I’m not desiring to be in one and be up in the sky.

58. Do you have a good health care plan? My parents do for us kids.

59. Last time you went to the hardware store? Months ago.

60. Have you ever played foursquare before? No. I thought that was just a website. Oops.

61. Do you own any types of eyewear? I’ve worn a pair of glasses since I was 11. I had needed them much earlier but my mom always thought I was being a sissy and just ‘wanted’ glasses to fit in with other kids. It was such a stupid mindset, and it was so stupid of her to not believe her kid WHO WAS STARTING TO NOT SEE. It was only when I took an eye exam at the school clinic and the school wrote her a letter that she finally believed me, but I had been suffering for a while and could barely read the chalkboard for like two years, which definitely affected my grades.

62. What brand of cookware do you have a lot of? Not sure about brands.

63. Nothing can compare to: Having a complete, loving, and supportive family.

64. Have you ever worked in a childcare center? I haven’t.

65. Do you have a “beware of dog” sign on your gate? Nah. I usually say it myself. Kimi never got used to strangers.

66. Have you ever attended daycare as a child? I guess you can say that? It wasn’t daycare per se but some malls used to have play areas/centers and my mom used to drop me off in those while she ran errands for a few hours. Those aren’t too common nowadays because I guess it’s more dangerous to leave your kids now, even with attendants, but they were a fun part of my childhood.

67. Are you very aware of your surroundings? I’m honestly a little ditzy so no. I always need a more responsible, more street smart friend by my side especially when I’m going somewhere unfamiliar.

68. Have you ever had an au pair or a nanny before? We used to have househelp, but we never saw them as nannies. A vast majority of them never met my mom’s (extremely high) expectations and quit in a few weeks or months, sometimes even days; the few ones who did eventually wanted better lives for themselves and resigned after a few years, which we didn’t stop them from doing. At some point my mom gave up having help around and realized that ultimately, she’d rather clean up and do chores her way.

69. Do you know anyone who has had an affair? Yes.

70. How much are you willing to spend on airfare? I’ve never bought my own ticket so I don’t know how much they’re supposed to be on average...but I imagine I’m willing to pay a lot of money if it means going to the destinations of my dreams.

71. Who do you care about the most? The friends that I count as family.

72. Are you more likely to choose truth or dare? Truth. I’m too shy to do dares and I’ve never had a problem telling the truth anyway.

73. Have you ever seen the Blair Witch Project before? Yes, a few times.

74. Do you like the name Claire? Would you spell it with or without the I? I love it, it sounds elegant and graceful and it’s one of my favorite names. I prefer it with an I – I don’t know any Clares, actually.

75. Last time you went to a fair? Last week of January.

76. What can be done to make life more fair? Ending world hunger and poverty and making education accessible for all.

77. How much are you willing to spend on cab fare? Not much. Cab fares should be fair after all.

78. Do you have a lot of flair? To some extent, I guess. I’m certainly not dragging myself down haha.

79. Do you own flare jeans? Nopes.

80. Is there a glare on your computer screen right now? There isn’t.

81. When’s the last time someone glared at you? Sometime in the last week would be a safe guess. My mom will sometimes communicate through glares and I’ve picked up the habit from her as well.

82. What type of hair do you have? (color, length, texture, etc) How often do you wash it? It’s black, quite thick, a bit on the wavy side, and has a tendency to get frizzy when it’s humid. Length-wise, it currently reaches just my collarbones. After a rebonding disaster around a decade ago my hair got a bit dry and it never really recovered from that, so I need to wash my hair with a giant blob of conditioner every time I take a shower otherwise it would get dry and hard.

83. Do you know the difference between a rabbit and a hare? I know hares are larger, but that’s about it.

84. Do you like to eat eclairs? LOVE them.

85. What do you consider to be your lair? My car has served as my safety bubble for so many depressing days in college. That’s why I got a little heartbroken when my dad told me he might have plans to sell it to my aunt (his sister).

86. A female horse is called a mare. What is a male horse called? A baby horse? Stallion; foal. Thank you, kid’s almanacs haha.

87. Have you ever used Nair before? Did it work? I used Veet in middle school when razors still scared me. It worked, but it took a whiiiiile and sometimes it wouldn’t even take all the hair off, so eventually I just started shaving.

88. Has anyone ever told you to “grow a pair”? No, and no thanks.

89. What is something that you own a pair of? Dogs.

90. What is a rare quality that you have? Other people will have to answer that. They’re the ones who see me and get to decide what’s rare about me.

91. Last food you pared? I don’t think I’ve done that.

92. Do you know someone who is a debonair? Sure.

93. Do you like to scare others for fun? No.

94. What is something that scares you? The idea of being in a plane crash, for one.

95. Do you like Sonny and Cher? Can’t say I’m a fan or that I’ve listened to anything of theirs.

96. Do you know how to share? Do you like to share? Sure. The only thing I’m a little selfish about is my food lol.

97. Have you ever played a snare drum before? A few times before, yes.

98. What do you do with your spare change? I give them to the tambays who help me get out of parking spots. That or I use it to buy food in school, since everything in UP’s cheap enough to pay with coins.

99. Do you know how to put on a spare tire? No. I’m interested to learn though.

100. Have you ever gotten a spare while bowling before? Yep, it’s happened a few times.

101. When’s the last time you wished someone would spare you the details? A week ago.

102. Do you win games fair and square? Sure. I’ve only cheated once and that was on an exam.

103. Do you know how to find the square root of something? Not anymore. I do have a bunch of perfect squares still memorized, though.

104. What are the characteristics of a square shape? Four equal sides that are also right angles.

105. Have you ever been called a square before? No. I don’t know what that means either, so if I got called that I wouldn’t know how to react.

106. Do you prefer the elevator or the stairs? Elevator.

107. Do you ever stare at other people? Only if it’s a bizarre situation. Once when this drunk guy got arrested in BGC and was being physical with the police, I stared and watched the whole thing. I do try to look away for most scenarios though.

108. How often do you swear? A few times a day.

109. Do you ever “swear on your life”? It’s not a saying that I commonly use, no.

110. What do you like to “tear up”? Eh, I don’t really like tearing up things.

111. What type of wares would you sell? Not interested in sales or business, so that’s a pass for me haha.

112. What kinds of clothing do you like to wear? I like wearing whatever’s trendy, as long as I genuinely like the look.

113. Have you ever had a pregnancy scare before? Never. [a-zebra-is-a-striped-horse]

#survey #surveys

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kainablue · 5 years

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LECTURE ME - Don’t Ask (part 1)

[Chain Reaction] [Distracted] [A Quick Smoke] [Into the Wild] [Heavy Rain (part 1)] [Heavy Rain (part 2)] [Moonstruck (part 1)] [Moonstruck (part 2)] [On the House]

Okay, wow, I have a small collection here! Yay!

Here’s the next chapter (finally!) In case you’ve forgotten - this is a dirty little bundle of stories about a professor and his student (and some other peeps). You can read them in any order that you like (except for the ones with ‘part 1′ and ‘part 2′ on them - these chapters were too long and that’s why I separated them like this)

The first part is pretty safe. Only some profanities and a bit of thirst! Enjoy! 🍷

Don’t Ask (part 1)

Oliver

What a shitty day. And not just because of rain.

As if getting scolded by the department's secretary for losing the keys to my office - again! - wasn’t bad enough, a couple of students at my last lecture were particularly annoying. Two wiseasses trying to convince me that morality is completely unnecessary in modern times. I wanted to crack their shit-filled skulls with an iron bar. But I kept my cool, I did. Barely, though. And I wonder was it really worth it because now I have a fucking headache as if someone smacked me with an iron bar.

A familiar smell of petrol tickles my nose. My eyes dart to my dashboard - I’m almost out of juice. Fuck. I rub my throbbing forehead and wonder what the helI did I do for karma to punish me like this.

Well - I can feel a smirk tugging my mouth - I haven’t been an innocent lamb jumping around the meadow, have I?

As I turn around the corner, two streets away from my home, a slight silhouette darkens my peripheral view. I would have missed Filipa if she wasn’t always on my mind. I do believe my brain is overstimulated and now I am hypersensitive to anything related to her.

I memorized the sound of her shoes walking over different types of floors. From the way utensils are positioned on a plate, I can recognize her leftovers in the dining hall. And I can sense her arousal by breathing in her sweat enriched with musk and floral perfume. Aaah, just the memory of that sex aroma, that perfect combination of refined and vulgar, is making me dizzy.

I pull over next to a willow tree bending over the gates like Juliet over her balcony. A shower started recently, a light drizzle, but strong enough to be annoying. Filipa is pacing, her head bowed down, carrying a box in her hands. Several rectangular stamps are one it. Oh, so she’s been to the post office. But why aren’t her packages delivered to the Academy's department office, like everyone else's?

I open the window. “Need a ride, pretty lady?”

Filipa lifts her head and stops, swaying a bit. There’s something odd. Was she— A tight knot of pain stabs me in the throat. Was she… crying? There are no telltale signs on her face, just… the feeling. Like when you see a famous actor on the street for the first time. They look the same but it’s not the character you know. Like another person. Like someone without a mask.

Filipa doesn’t avert her eyes (she’s never the first to buckle - never!) and approaches my car. A lovely, almost innocent smile curves her lips and the whole costume is back on - the mask, the robe, the hood – the girl I saw just a second ago has vanished.

She places one her elbow on the window edge and the other hand holding the mysterious box on the car roof, bending her back. There isn’t much happening at the front of her clothes: her flat chest covered by her school uniform with buttoned up shirt. But her skirt… I imagine it is now way up. As she lowers her upper body, adjusting herself to my height, the skirt is going up and up, slowly sliding above her knees and her thighs. Maybe even her ass.

A passer-by checks her out from behind, looking under her skirt like a fucking pervert!

That ass is mine!

“We are going in opposite directions, professor.”

Her voice is creamy like always, with some light notes of mirth attached to the word professor.

“How about a detour?” Really, why not? “Hop on. I have something to show you.”

Her eyebrow jumps in surprise and then joins the other one in vexation. A very different sounding words shoot me.

“Seriously? Of all the cheesy lines you have, you are offering me 'I have something to show you' one? I know how your dick looks, Oliver.”

“But it’s a very fine dick, wouldn't you agree?” The rolling of her eyes was expected but always entertaining. “No, something else, but not as big, I’m afraid. Come.”

“Where to?”

“My apartment.”

She tilts her head, amused. “Wouldn’t it be suspicious, professor: a young naive student and her mentor heading to his unholy den?”

“To earn her some extra credit.”

I crack myself up sometimes. The absurdity of my statement even draws a low chuckle from Filipa.

“All right,” she sighs and pushes herself away from my car. I forgot about the box. Such a dull looking thing, wrapped in a brown paper, and yet she holds it like a treasure… The familiar static fills my brain clouding my every thought. Oliver, don’t do it. Don’t do it. Don’t do —

“What’s in there?”

You. Fucking. Did. It.

If eyes could make a sound, hers would be hissing at me.

“I should head back, professor.” And with that statement, heavy as a concrete block, she proceeds to march towards the Academy.

I fucked up.

I put my Ford in reverse and start to follow her.

“Fine. I’m sorry. Don’t tell me what’s in your damn box. Let’s go.”

She doesn’t stop. There is no other person who can blank you like Filipa can. I turn off the engine and take a deep breath. She won’t like this. Not at all.

I get out, leaving the car door open. In several big steps I catch up with her and immediately block her way. Because she was walking with her head down, probably protecting her eyes from the rain, Filipa headbutts my chest. I touch her upper arms but she springs backwards. She clenches her package and snarls like a monkey holding stolen goods. The ire in her eyes is so forceful I freeze.

We stand like that for a few moments. Rain is dripping down my face and dampening my shirt. It's cold. I swallow a lump. Filipa is all wet and beyond pissed now. Why do I get horny when she looks like she wants to massacre me.

“Come on, doll. I’m sorry. I made a mistake.”

She hardly blinks. Rain is getting heavier by the minute and she… isn’t bothered even the slightest? Blinking is for the weak, and Filipa is everything but weak, I laugh inwardly.

A much lighter expression takes over Filipa’s features. Not necessarily a good thing. She shifts into a more relaxed pose.

“Beg.”

Not what I expected. “Okay, please.”

“No. I mean… beg.”

Oh.

Someone could fucking see us! I turn around: luckily, the street is empty, but that can change in a second. And far more importantly - my clothes! Crap! I stare down at her. I could literally scoop her up and carry her to my car, but… She wouldn’t just kill me then, though; she would literally crush me into a lump the size of a marshmallow and eat me.

The resting bitch face in front of me is unforgiving. I know she doesn’t care. She will just leave if I refuse. And… I don’t want that. Just like I wouldn't want any of my nails pulled out with rusty pincers.

I take a deep breath in… and kneel. A humiliating wet cold enters my clothes and spreads over my knees and calves. Fuck!

“Please.” I stare at Filipa’s ugly, dirty shoes, gritting my teeth. Someone will see us! And then I’m screwed! “Please, please, please.”

Filipa is silent. She is enjoying this so much, I just know it. Murky water around my knees is restless from the raindrops hitting it. But I can somehow make out two faces: one pathetic, with eyes wide open in apprehension; the other, upside-down – and victorious.

Her foot moves up, water dripping from the shoe sole. The dirty, worn-out tip has a shallow scratch - just above her big toe.

"Kiss."

I swallow. I was expecting this.

Let's get this over with.

I close my eyes and press my lips on a dry patch, just above the scuff. The smell of mud and old leather tickles my nostrils.

“Are you satisfied?” I croak. My head is flying from one side to the other, checking if someone’s approaching. This is so dumb and risky and… exciting. I suck on my lower lip. Fuck me and my sick, twisted brain! I want to bend even more, shove my elbows in this disgusting sewage water and lick her legs. I want her to place her hand in my hair and pull while —

A finger brushes along my jaw and lifts my head up. Filipa’s lips are curved into a poisonous smirk. Her smile is like a drug – a deadly line that boils my blood and ruins my life. And I need it all the time.

All the fucking time.

“Very,” she whispers, a slight tremble in her voice. She really is. “Let’s go.”

***

Filipa

I expected Oliver’s room to be a bit more… chaotic. More bachelor like. More I’m-overwhelmingly-anxious-to-keep-my-job-but-also-uncontrollably-hedonistic-like. But it isn’t.

His shoes are neatly aligned next to a hallway wall. The wooden floor is old but clean, not even a pebble stuck between the boards. No weird stains, no underwear on the kettle, no porn hastily hidden bellow a carpet. He has a separate bedroom, but I bet he even made the bed before leaving his apartment this morning. Smell of cigarettes is glued to every piece of furniture and I soon spot a full ashtray. But aside from that dirty metal container and a bunch of papers and books scattered all over the floor and any horizontal surface, this apartment is… quite neat.

“I don’t think you came here before?” Oliver moves the curtains and more grey light colours the room.

“I haven’t.”

There are no pictures on the walls. I think they used to be white,long time ago when this house was built; but they are more creamy brown now. Years of tobacco using tenants did that, I guess. Except for one spot where colour is still unsoiled and almost completely clean. In the perfect center, opposite from the windows, there used to be a cross. Not a large one, nor particularly prominent judging by the shape. But it bothered Oliver enough to remove it.

“Have a seat,” he points to an armchair in childish excitement, “and get ready to be amazed.”

I humor him and take a seat. Right in front of me, taking up quite a large portion of the living room, is a… table? A desk? Huge tablecloth covering it falls down some unexpected curves. Not to mention the tabletop is set too low for any standard chair. And yet it’s also too high for a coffee table.

Oliver removes piles of books that were covering the top and, with a wiggle of his eyebrows, he asks: “Are you ready?”

This can only be something incredibly stupid when he’s so excited. I brace myself expecting to see a rocking horse or an overly complicated sex toy. I nod.

He takes the tabletop and lifts the whole thing in one swift move. Table cloth flies with it and for a moment Oliver resembles a magician uncovering a rabbit underneath a mystery box.

But there is no rabbit. Only a - bathtub.

Although, I have to admit, a beautiful one. It is wooden and shaped as those old baths that you can see in period dramas. But this one is brand new and shining like a freshly licked candy. I stand up to get a closer look. It really is gorgeous.

“You made it?”

“Yup.” This big man’s ego just got a bit bigger. “Touch it.”

I glide tips of my fingers along the rim. It’s like ice.

"I used seven layers of finish so it could be as smooth as glass," he trails off and zones out. For a few seconds I was almost able to observe his tiny thought monkey with cymbals taking a break from wanking himself and actually using his brain for a change. And then he spoke in enlightenment: "...for your lovely, precious, little ass."

I don't know what I expected.

"Lord Byron, step aside, you've been outshined."

Oliver chuckles. “I would be honored if your ass would be the first one to sit in it.”

I look at the bathtub again. Is there a trick? Will something happen? I hardly believe Oliver would do something to openly anger me, but to simply push my buttons for shits and giggles – yes. And I’m not in the mood for it.

“Come on, sweetie. You know you want to soak that wet and cold flesh of yours in a hot bath.” He shifts behind me, a towering presence of muscles and heat. Oliver kisses the top of my head. “I will wash you, my mistress.”

A purr escapes my lips in response to this deep, rich and velvety voice whispering in my hair. It would be quite nice to replace the moldy odor of this sad room to a floral scent of soap. Bliss overcomes me as I imagine warm water clinging to my body and the brisk air biting my flesh when I expose myself. Oliver moves closer to me. A slow shiver shoots up along the back of my thighs, where his legs are touching mine. And, of course, the idea of his hands gliding up and down my skin, feeling me, caressing me, teasing me in all the right ways - does sound divine.

“Fine, my beast. You can have your wish.”

~~~

[to be continued…]

#lemon #writeblr #writing #amwriting #adult writing #writers on tumblr #writer #writers #mature writing #romance #romance writing #dark academia #story #my writing #lectureme

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luvknow · 4 years

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in another lifetime | kim woojin

genre: ceo/iron man!kim woojin x secretary!reader | ceo au ; superhero au ; alcohol mention ; blood mention summary: you and your boss were inseparable. no one could understand how you could work ungodly hours for such an inexperienced ceo. but your job was to stick by mr. kim for as long as you were getting paid, and that meant being his date to charity balls and helping him turn into the country’s best superhero. wc: 18.9k

“Good morning, Mr. Kim,” you greeted, walking into his private office at 8:00 am on the dot as normal. With tired eyes, he looked up from his stack of blueprints and gave you a warm smile. You don’t know how he does it, but he always managed to welcome your morning visits with a smile that almost made you consider your resignation. “Iced americano, extra shot.”

“You are a blessing,” he praised graciously. One sip of the liquid gold was enough to wake him up right away.

“Long night?”

“Yeah. You know how it took us hours to decide the wall colors for each floor in our building? Imagine doing that all over again, but for a superhero suit prototype.”

“But it’s just a suit this time, not fifty floors.”

“This isn’t just a suit, _____. It’s the suit of a man who’s going to save the world one day! A suit that everyone will lay their eyes on and judge me for my color choices.”

“You sound like a child.”

“An ambitious child, mind you.”

“Did you ultimately decide on a color?”

“Yes, two colors actually. Red and gold.”

“Wow, such a loud and loyal color choice.”

“Is it?” Your handsome boss pouted slightly while scanning his designs. “Seungmin said the same thing. Maybe I should change it -”

“No!” you interrupted for the sake of not wanting to look up Pantone’s thousands of shades of ruby and champagne. “Red and gold are perfect for you.”

Woojin’s pouty lips melted into a proud smile. “If you believe so, then I trust you. Come take a look - what do you think of it overall?”

You walked around his ginormous custom-made walnut desk to peer over his shoulder. Woojin could smell the familiar gardenia scent you wore for years and it immediately brought comfort to his panicking soul. Somehow your presence always calmed him down, no matter what stressful situation he was in. Maybe that’s why he wanted to have you around 24/7. How selfish of him.

Your couple minutes of silence were so agonizing that his nervous foot-tapping habit he told you about that he thought he got rid of in college broke through, which was your cue to answer.

“I like it. I like it a lot, actually,” you admitted honestly. “I would definitely feel safe if I saw you come to my rescue, although the helmet is a little concerning.”

“Concerning how?”

“Well, it has such a… A, uh… How do I put this politely? A dead expression?”

“‘Dead’ is a polite adjective to you?”

“I mean come on, Mr. Kim, there are two eyes and a flat line for the mouth where the corners curve downwards just slightly and it looks like you gave him little fangs. There’s not much life in the eyes, either.”

“They light up when the suit is on!”

“Maybe I’ll like it more when I see it in person?”

“The helmet is the only thing I’m confident about, so nothing and no one can change my mind,” he said stubbornly.

“I’m sure everyone will love it,” you reassured while smoothing out the stress wrinkles on his indigo shoulder pads. “When do you plan on starting the build?”

“In half an hour.”

“What!?” Woojin nearly spit out his espresso at your yelping and the frantic way you sifted through your massive planner and scrolling through your emails on your phone at the same time. Oh, so that’s what he forgot to tell you! He knew something felt off. “B-B-But I didn’t get an email that the shipment arrived!”

“I called the company at five in the morning just as they opened and demanded an expedited shipping of all the materials and they’ll be arriving in half an hour.”

“But did the quality department approve of the materials? Or your design at least?”

“You do know I’m the CEO, right?” Woojin smirked teasingly. “That’s business talk for ‘fuck Quality’.”

Woojin stood up from his black velvet Chesterfield chair to escape your nagging and briskly walked away towards God-knows-where. Like an obedient, push-over puppy, you trailed closely behind with a light jog and all you could think about was how it was too early for your feet to be aching this badly.

“I don’t like the idea of this,” you said firmly.

“You never do. Loosen up a little, will ya?”

“I will not! I looked the other way when you decided on signing a contract to collaborate with that ugly luxury car brand, I agreed with the proposal of a new smartphone that totally flopped in the end, and I barely allowed the approval for the development of the new branch in Taiwan! All of those ideas are whatever, arbitrary even, but this? This puts you at the front line of danger, Mr. Kim! What if something goes wrong, or the material is compromised? What if these companies take you for a fool for not checking in with the quality department first? What if you’re setting yourself up to be sabotaged, huh?”

Woojin pressed the down button on the elevator, ignoring your pleas. Even though all you do is nag and play by the rules, he knew you were only doing so because he didn’t bother to. In the end, you were just looking out for him, and he couldn’t appreciate you more.

His gives you what he thought was a reassuring smile. To you, it looked rather mischievous “Lucky for me that you’ll be there the whole time, right?”’

“What do you mean…?”

“I mean you’ll watch the entire suit being built while you work. Then you’ll see how safe it is. I need someone to double check me, anyways.”

“Mr. Kim, I don’t think I’m qualified for that.”

“Don’t be silly, of course you are!”

Your engineering experience went as far as Physics I and II classes with a teaspoon’s worth in basic circuitry, so if Woojin thought that qualified you to double check his work, then you might have to question his PhD degree.

The elevator welcomed you both into its vacant container. The lowest level this elevator could reach with a single button was the basement, but if the right person (or the wrong person) were to dial the buttons in the order of 4-4-1-9, they would be taken nine floors below the basement to the rumored ‘Super Office’ (ten was too much because Woojin didn’t like the feel of the heavy pressure and eight was such a silly number).

You walked up to your favorite one, eyes sparkled adoringly at Seungmin’s first Spider-Man suit.

“You always loved the red and blue,” Woojin noted behind you. “Still not a fan of the black one?”

“The black one is scary! No one wants a hero dressed in all black, like that color does not exude the feeling of safe.”

“Duly noted for his next suit.”

Beside Seungmin’s old spidey suit was an empty display case you assumed was meant for this final draft of Woojin’s Iron Man suit. Surrounding the two glass cases were dozens and dozens of wood and plastic demos that didn’t work out in the end, but Woojin didn’t have the heart to take them to the dumpster.

“Looks like the shipment arrived early!” Your mature but easy-going boss jogged up to the piles of wooden crates and packages that were laid out neatly in the center of his work space. Without much patience, he took off his indigo suit jacket, tossed it to the side like it wasn’t worth two thousand dollars (to which you caught before it hit the ground), and took the crowbar on top of the pile to open the cases with ease. Sheets of metals, different tools, and a cool welding and soldering set scattered along the concrete floor. Woojin gave you an excited grin that mimicked a child upon opening gifts on Christmas. “Let the building commence!”

Maybe cool wasn’t the right word. Or watching.

For the next three months, from sunrise to sunset, you spent your day nine floors below the surface for almost twelve hours a day being his little helper. From holding pieces of metal in place while he flame torched them together to feeding him take out because his hands were covered in oil, you did it all and God, if Woojin didn’t give you a raise or at least some meal tickets to the executive cafeteria, you might just quit on the spot.

“Done.” With a heavy and exhausted sigh, Woojin clapped his hands together and marveled at his nearly-finished product. “We’re done!!”

“What about the red and gold paint?”

“I can’t work on this anymore or I’ll implode. I’ll just take this to my car guy and he’ll paint it exactly how I want it.”

“Not really a self-made suit then, is it?” you dared to challenge your boss.

He pointed an accusing finger at you. “Shut your mouth and give me my food.”

You handed a slouching Woojin his box of take-out and wooden chopsticks. While you had a perfectly comfortable ottoman he could have sat on right next to you, he remained on the cold concrete, probably too sore and worn out to even stand up, let alone walk to a cushioned seat. Woojin was a man with personality and many faces, but his face of satisfactory upon completing projects was when he was the most handsome. For a while, you two just sat in silence, taking in every detail of the flawless silver suit while slurping noodles.

“So,” Woojin began nervously. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful, Mr. Kim,” you say immediately.

“You mean it?”

For someone so intelligent and talented, it was a wonder how a man like him could be insecure about any of his creations.

“Absolutely,” you reassured. “Flawless. Is it fully programmed and everything?”

“Yup. I installed the software and artificial intelligence last week.”

“Sounds like the only thing you need to do is take it out for a spin.”

Woojin hummed with approval. “... Can you do it for me?”

“What!? No!”

“I really don’t want to do it…”

“With all due respect, please suck it up.”

“Isn’t it reasons like this why I hired you?”

“I was hired to be your secretary, not your lab rat.”

“To be fair, the job description was pretty vague.”

Woojin followed suit, who was also able to get his napkin in the can. Then you tossed another napkin, and then him, and this went on until you were left to toss your boxes and chopsticks. The real challenge was tossing the plastic wraps of the fortune cookies.

“Whoever loses has to do whatever the other says,” Woojin proposed.

Without hesitation, you nodded in agreement. “Fine, but I will not test that thing out if I lose.”

“Deal. Secretaries first.”

“WOO!” Woojin cheered, getting up from the floor while you were left slumped in the chair filled with defeat. Of course, whatever he wanted, he would get his way. “Man, I am super lucky today.”

“What the hell! Did you wrap it around a stone or something!?”

“Darling, I would never cheat ~”

“There’s no use in arguing. Just lay the consequences on me, boss.”

Woojin scooted the ottoman closer - almost a little too close. Then, like a handsome little goldendoodle with his swooshy caramel hair and sparkling eyes, he gazed up at you pleadingly before offering you your punishment.

Fear and flattery tickled your spine. “Spit it out.”

A grin followed. “You will accompany me to the ball next week.”

“The Children’s Charity Ball? The biggest charity ball of the century? The one where all the white-haired big shots attend with their dates who just barely turned eighteen?”

“The very same.”

“And you want me to be your date.”

“Yes.”

“Seems a bit lazy, doesn’t it?”

“Lazy how!?”

Not wanting him to see you blush, you began cleaning up the mess from the takeout. “Lazy as in why not find a real date? You know, someone you’ll have a good time with.”

“Don’t you want to bring someone more suited for this role? Someone with much more finesse and elegance?” you said as you twirled dirty napkins in the air.

“If I’m being honest, I do not have the time nor do I want to put in the effort into bringing someone so bland.”

“Who says they’re bland? What if I pick out one of your supermodel friends or like a professor, or something?”

A moment of silence passed while you shuddered in disgust. You couldn’t believe you were going to say this, but… “So what should I wear?”

“Yes! That’s the spirit! Wear anything besides velvet because that’s my fabric of choice.”

“Can you at least do the picking for me? We should at least match in the slightest.”

Woojin let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, fine, I’ll do all the work.”

“You’re a pain in the ass, Mr. Kim.”

“It’s what I do best.”

After cleaning up the mess and a last quick polish on the Iron suit, the two of you took the elevator to the level below the basement where Woojin parked his favorite fancy shmancy foreign sports car you couldn’t pronounce. In its shiny and spotless all-white glory sat his coup in his executive parking spot where no other car or person was in sight.

“Quite showy for you, isn’t it?” you accused your normally toned-down boss.

“I had a hunch that today was going to be the day we finished, and low and behold, we did. Soojung the Spyder always brings me good luck,” he patted and praised his prized roadster.

The distance from the office to your apartment was a solid forty-five minutes away by public transportation, right on the edge of being not TOO far, but not close enough, but by car it was only twenty-five minutes. During your first couple of years with the company, you enjoyed the lonely rides and getting lost with your thoughts, but there were moments you got so lost that you missed your stop a couple too many times and sometimes the winter made waiting outside so unbearable. It wasn’t until you started to clock in tons of overtime that Woojin was nice enough to drive you home from then on.

“C’mon, _____, just get in the car,” Woojin begged for the twelfth time, holding the passenger door open with one hand and an umbrella with the other. He parked his car illegally right in front of the bus stop that so many other employees used. Why did it matter that you were using it while it was thunderstorming and past 10:00 PM? “The heat is escaping the longer we argue.”

“It’s fine! I don’t live too far away,” you lied. “Please go home, Mr. Kim, your puppy must be worried sick.”

“Hazelnut can wait, but I can’t. As your boss, I order you to get in my car!” Though the statement was serious with his booming voice, his pouty lips made it much less intimidating.

“With all due respect, I have clocked out for the day and I don’t have to listen to you until 7:00 am tomorrow.”

“I can’t believe you’re making me break the law.”

“What do you mean?”

The blinding lights of the bus flashed irregularly, a polite way of telling Woojin to get the fuck out of the way. But he didn’t move in the slightest. He patiently waited for you by the passenger door, not moving a muscle and looking like a car model dressed in his long, warm and tan pea coat.

“Mr. Kim, get out of the way!”

“Not until you’re in my car,” he shook his head stubbornly. “The bus is getting closer ~”

Your anxiousness hiked up exponentially when the driver held the horn long and loudly, not looking like they had much patience in them and indicating that they were very, very annoyed. For the sake of not inconveniencing the butt-load of passengers and the driver and securing your job, you hurried into his car, cursing up a storm that rivaled the one outside. A triumphant and smirking Woojin followed suit and sped away at a dangerous speed, perhaps breaking a second law that night. For those twenty-five minutes (or maybe it was fifteen with Woojin’s driving), the car was silent because your reckless boss focused on cutting every civilian off on the highway and you were too busy covering your eyes in fear.

“You were so dramatic back then,” Woojin snickered at the seemingly-harmless memory.

“Me!? You were the one who parked in front of a bus stop and begged me to get in!”

“You were the one who wouldn’t get in the damn car!”

“How does it look to on-lookers that a secretary is getting into her boss’s car!?”

“It’s not like anyone knows our relationship.”

“I could not give more than zero fucks of what people think.”

“Yes, that much is clear.”

“_____, you can’t always worry about what everyone thinks ~”

You sighed loudly, as if you’d explained this to him a thousand times already. “Worrying is the basis to my entire title, Mr. Kim.”

“And will you drop the ‘Mr. Kim’ once and for all? We’re the same age!”

“Same age, but different titles and a massive pay gap. You and I are not equals.”

Woojin reached over to mess up your hair. “You’re so formal, it’s so cute!”

“Ah, stop it! You’re swerving!!”

Woojin had dropped you off and walked you up to your apartment more times than you can count, but you don’t think you’ll ever get over the embarrassment of your humble abode. Of course you’ve visited his mansion just as many times, since you participated in the designing of it, and him having to see such a sad home in comparison is, well, terrifying each and every time.

“Ok, bye,” you dismissed quickly.

“My home doesn’t have marble statues or glass refrigerators and I can’t hire you to redesign the interior.”

“You know I don’t care about that stuff!”

“But I do!”

He pouted slightly once more. “What a shame. I thought we were friends.”

“We are, but friends don’t break sensitive boundaries.”

He passively waved you off. “Fine, fine. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Bright and early.”

“Excellent. I have one request.”

It was your turn to pout. What could he possibly want this time? “Already? At least let me sleep peacefully.”

“It’s nothing complicated, I promise! In fact, it’ll save you thirty minutes. Don’t bring me my coffee tomorrow.”

“No, not a cleanse. Just come in a bit earlier. Let’s get coffee together.”

“Do you have time for that?” Knowing how packed Woojin’s schedule was in the mornings, you wondered his sanity for making time just so the two of you could grab a cup.

“I’ll make time. Actually, you’ll make time. Can you pencil us in for some coffee?”

“U-Uh, yeah!” With nervous and shaky hands, you pulled out your work phone and squeezed in half an hour of coffee time. “Done.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Don’t be reckless driving home.”

“No promises.”

Before going into your apartment complex, you watched Woojin wave goodbye before blasting music with a deep bass and speeding off, leaving a smokey trail from burning rubber.

“I hate him,” you smiled to yourself.

“I hate him,” you said to yourself upon walking into Woojin’s office.

Like an artificially intelligent robot that didn’t know of its purpose, Woojin dressed in his Iron suit walked around his office doing regular office things, like dusting the blinds and tidying up loose papers on his desk. It was a little difficult to do smaller tasks with his stiff and massive iron hands, so you’re not entirely sure what your boss was doing.

“G’morning!” he greeted cheerfully. “Just taking this baby out on a test drive.”

You had just noticed the paint job was completed on the suit which meant that it was good to go. However, you didn’t think this was the ideal way to ‘test drive’ a superhero suit.

“Good morning, Mr. Kim. Is this really the right way to test drive?”

“I got too excited when my car guy told me it was done. He did it so quickly and precisely, too. Look, he even engraved it with my signature! She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”

“Yes, very shiny. The gold and red are much prettier than I imagined.”

“Right!? Not too Gryffindor-y, is it?”

“Not at all,” you said sincerely. “Do you want to get coffee now? We should hurry, you have a conference call at 8:00.”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Woojin followed you to the door with a trail of heavy iron steps. You turned around quickly and gave him an incredulous look, one he’s seen much too often. “I don’t want coffee anymore.”

“Why not!?”

“I’m not going out in public with you wearing that thing! You look ridiculous!”

“That’s so rude of you to say about my pride and joy! This also took me thirty minutes to put on!”

“Mr. Kim, we’re just getting coffee!”

“You are not fun at all.”

It took only five minutes to get your boss stumbling out of the suit because the button for the release was hidden under a metal panel on his wrist, but at least it was painless.

“I thought you didn’t want to reveal Iron Man until you tested it and got your seal of approval?” you asked the child-like man.

“That’s still the plan, but I’m just so excited! I think we should test it tonight.”

“Tonight? Already?”

“Yup, and I need you here with me in case I die, or something.”

“And to think I was gonna relax and take a bubble bath tonight.”

“It won’t take long, I promise.”

“I’ll believe it when I drop my bath bomb in my tub.”

In your whole time working here, you’ve spent more time together with Woojin at both the office and at his home than working alone. The ratio was about seventy-five percent at the office, fifteen percent at his home, and ten percent miscellaneous, like going to business lunches or simple walks to the coffee shop like today. The long work hours were brutal on your feet and your social life, but the money was way too good to pass. You swore you broke the world record for ‘quickest payment of student debt’ with your hard work.

“Are we going to test it out now?”

“No, silly, it’s still too bright out! We have to test it once the sun sets.”

You knew that sounded too good to be true. You held a light jog in order to keep up with him. “Where are we going then?”

He turned and gave you a suspicious grin. “Shopping!”

“For what!?”

“You and I need matching outfits for the charity ball, remember?”

“We are matching and I am not arguing with you.”

A defeated sigh escaped your lips before entering the backseat of Woojin’s car where his driver would take us anywhere he pleased. He told him a cross section that sounded familiar, but not enough for you to guess where you’re going, so from here on out until you were home taking a hot bath, the rest of today would be a surprise.

The car stopped in front of a glossy black DIOR building. You expected nothing less from Woojin.

“You would pick Dior,” you scoffed, completely amazed at how someone so rich could have so much brand loyalty to one company.

“Hey, they are consistent and beautifully crafted, don’t judge me.”

“Mr. Kim and Lovely _____!” An older, graceful lady came running to greet both of you with a warm smile dressed in a hot red shade of lipstick. You recognized her voice to be the owner from all the times you called to ask about any pieces Woojin could reserve before they hit the runway and were snatched up by the ‘I Have Daddy’s Credit Card and Inheritance’ private-school boys. This was your first time seeing her in person and her calming voice matched her mature appearance perfectly. “This piece has been waiting for you ~”

“I can’t wait, Auntie,” he smiled back graciously like an obedient nephew rewarded with cookies.

She led the two of you to the very back where the private dressing and tailoring area was, where the mirrors went from the floor to the ceiling. The store owner walked in with Woojin’s fabric of choice, a velvet jacket with crisp black pants and a white button-up that had the slightest sheen of silver from metallic strands woven into the shirt fabric. In the shadows, one would think the velvet was black, but in the light or at certain angles, there was the slightest sheen to it that showed the darkest shades of indigo and green, like an oil slick. You couldn’t believe the amount of detail in the velvet that your eyes looked like they were popping out of your sockets.

“M-M-Mr. Kim! At least warn me if you’re going to strip!!”

“Sorry ~” he apologized unapologetically.

A couple of zips and rustling of fabrics later, Woojin tapped your shoulder to turn around. Your eyes bulged out of their sockets again while looking at your boss dressed in a suit that was clearly made for him and him only. It didn’t look like any tailoring was needed at all! He looked like he walked right off the runway. There had to be some enchantment spell in the fabric because you swear you’ve never seen any man more handsome before this moment.

“I take it you like it?” Woojin teased.

Your cheeks tickled with red when he caught you staring. “You look amazing as usual, Mr. Kim.”

“You think so?” You knew so. “It’s not too flashy, is it?”

“Not at all. I think you have the perfect amount of flash. How does it feel?”

“Like a glove. It’s already perfectly tailored!”

“I know your measurements by heart, my dear,” Auntie bragged. “Of course I had it ready to go already.”

“You’re the best.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug. “What would I be without you?”

“Not GQ’s best dressed man under thirty, that’s for sure.”

“Could you do me another favor? Do you perhaps have something for _____ to match? We have a charity ball next weekend.”

“Mr. Kim, this is really unnecessary -”

“I know exactly what to pull.”

“I’m not wearing whatever she brings out.”

“You will and you’ll look great and we will buy it, so don’t embarrass me.”

“Embarrass you!? I am not your doll!”

“I’ve got it!”

Both you and Woojin whipped your heads to see Auntie running in with a blacker than black satin and silky outfit that was simple but elegant. Nervous goosebumps spread through your arms and straight to your wallet. You already knew this was going to be the most expensive outfit you’ve ever worn.

“It’s beautiful,” you gasped so slightly.

“Try it on!”

Woojin followed Auntie out of the dressing room but not before shooting you a triumphant wink. I mean, who were you to deny your boss and the store owner, right? So with ease, you put on the cooling fabric that clung to your body in all the right spots. The mirror did all justice and perhaps it was a magical mirror that Dior spent millions on to convince their customers to buy everything because damn, you look hot! With your face as red as Woojin’s Corvette, you presented the outfit to the two judges.

“Oh, it fits perfectly!” Auntie gushed with wide eyes.

Woojin stayed silent with his mouth ajar and eyes scanning you up and down like you were a precious gem discovered in a deep cave beyond a waterfall. It was hard to differentiate between feeling flattered and feeling like object, but at least you were a desired object, right?

“You look amazing,” Woojin admitted sincerely, no longer looking at you with awe and rather content.

“Really? I look ok?”

“You look just fine,” he lied, because ‘fine’ didn’t come close to how you looked to him.

“We’ll be the best dressed at the ball, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

The car ride home was quiet other than the trot music playing on the radio from the driver’s playlist. Woojin seemed as cool as a cucumber, but you were at the edge of your seat feeling a bit awkward and ugh, unintentionally sweaty. Compliments from any man was one thing, but coming from your boss? A whole different level of weird, especially if they weren’t work related! What did ‘you look just fine’ even mean!? Was that a good thing? Were you too average-looking? Whatever it was, from now until you fall asleep at ungodly hours, those words were going to circulate your thoughts, perhaps haunt you for days.

At exactly 7:03 pm, just as the sun set below the horizon revealing the indigo night sky, the driver pulled up to the back entrance of the building that led to a secret elevator that would take you straight to the underground office after punching in the code. A giggling and grinning Woojin was the first to hop out of the car and ran towards the door.

“Mr. Kim, hold on!” you whined as you struggled to get out of the tall car.

“Hurry up, _____! Now’s the perfect time to earn that OT!”

“This time-and-a-half pay better be worth it…”

Upon entering the elevator, you were ready to punch in the 4419 code, but Woojin had already pressed the button to the top level, which led to the roof slash helipad.

“Why are we going up?”

“We can’t test the suit inside, silly. Seungmin came by earlier to pick up his suit after I recalibrated it last night and I asked him to take the suit to the roof.”

“How, that thing weighs like a ton!”

“Not when you’re wearing it.”

“You let him wear it before you test drove it!? Mr. Kim, that’s extremely reckless!”

“Relax, I trusted he wouldn’t mess anything up, and look! It’s right there!”

The glass elevator made a slow stop to reveal the red and gold suit standing proudly in the center of the helipad. As soon as the doors panned open, Woojin handed you his suitcase before running out and tossing his blazer onto the floor before hastily stepping into the suit.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, running back to your frazzled state. He took the leather suitcase from your hands and popped it open so he could give you a glass tablet. “This is for you.”

You looked at the shiny slab of glass with wonder. “What is it?”

“And what code is that?”

“Not important, we’ll study those later.”

“Later!? What if something happens tonight!?”

“Nothing will happen I promise, I’ll see you in a bit ~!” his cheering faded away the further he ran from you and to his beloved suit.

There was no use in fighting your boss, so you did as you were told and touched the tablet to reveal the control panel. It was black for a few moments before the screen showed your tiny self off in the distance looking down at the tablet which meant that Woojin was able to put on and turn on the suit super quickly without any problems.

“What do you see?” he asked you through the speakers of the tablet from his built-in microphone in the helmet.

“I see me in the distance, the battery level of the suit, and all other weird liquids and commodities at one hundred percent.”

“Perfect!”

“How does it feel?”

“It feels incredible! Totally indescribable now that I’m out in the open. And it’s surprisingly lightweight.”

“How were you able to make it feel light with all that metal?”

“I don’t know, if I’m being honest…”

You rolled your eyes. “The work of a genius, huh?”

“You’ve got that right. Are we ready to take off?”

“I believe so. Are you ready to take off?”

“More than I’ll ever be, baby!!”

In a panic, you ran and took a peak over the edge, hoping the jets or whatever kept the suit flying would operate properly and leave you without any worries. At first, Woojin was but a dark red speck falling beneath the shadows, but a second later, he came flying up at lighting speed doing tricks and flips with ease and whooping loudly, as any normal CEO of a software company slash wannabe superhero would do. You could hear him giggling through your tablet, and like a spectator watching the most spectacular aerial performance, you watched him with a smile on your lips.

After his solo, he glided back down to you and hovered beyond the edge just at your eye level. You couldn’t see any features behind the glass of his eyes so you were left awkwardly staring at his expressionless helmet with those signature weird fangs. After all you and Woojin have been through together, even with an idea like this being so ridiculously obscure, he could always rely on you to support him no matter what. He saw how your eyes sparkled with wonderment and how your cheeks dusted a soft pink and it was then that he knew you would stay by his side for even more ridiculous shenanigans to come.

He would never let you leave, anyways. Even in another lifetime, he’d have you by his side forever.

You raised a brow. “You look kind of… scary?”

“Scary!? Why?”

“I don’t know, if I saw a flying robot come at me at rocket speed, I think I’d be terrified!”

“Well, if I come to your rescue, at least you’ll know it’s me.”

“I suppose. So what are you going to do now? Throw a reveal event? Press conference, perhaps?”

“That, or wait for a Demon-Level threat to pass through our city. I don’t know, whichever comes first.” Woojin shrugged nonchalantly. “Wanna see something cool?”

Before you could agree, Woojin held his palm to the sky before a neon blue blast shot out of it, disappearing into God-knows-where. You could feel the heat from the beam of light radiated around you and fear sparked inside your chest..

“What the hell was that!?” you exclaimed.

“Hey, careful! What if you hit a satellite or something!” In the process of grabbing Woojin’s iron hand so he’d stop being so reckless, you burned yourself upon touching the hot metal opening like a total dumb ass and yanked your hand back. “Ah!!”

“Oh, shit.”

Quickly and haphazardly, Woojin landed back on the helipad and climbed out of the iron suit. In the process of running back to your aid, he untied his black silk necktie to use as a temporary band aid on your scalding palm. Gingerly, his cold hands took yours and ran a thumb over the scarring semicircle.

“Ah ah ah stop!!” you cried with tears of pain and embarrassment streaming down your cheeks.

“Sorry! Here,” Woojin wrapped his tie around your palm and tied it tightly. The pure silk felt cooling against the burn and soon your tears stopped and you couldn’t do anything else besides sniffle. “Let’s go back inside. My office has a first aid kit.”

You sat on his sapphire blue velvet couch with the bronze-gilded frame that looked like it belonged in the Ravenclaw common room trying to alleviate the pain of the burn in Woojin’s ice bucket (for his white wine, of course) while he shifted through his drawers to find the first aid kit you gave him a couple years ago.

“8:00 pm,” you corrected in between sniffles.

Woojin had finished wrapping your palm at the end of his story. Something about his proclamation didn’t sit right with you. Something about staying here forever, clocking in massive amounts of overtime and being subservient to the same men sounded like your own personal hell.

“I can’t be your secretary forever, Mr. Kim.”

“I know,” he admitted. “But I don’t have to think about that for quite some time, right?”

“Maybe.”

“I hate change, you know.”

“I, more than anyone else, know that.”

Your handsome boss chuckled lightly at the heavy subject. His curly caramel hair covered his eyes as he looked down at your hand and traced small shapes on the bandaid. You knew that he knew you didn’t want to stay here forever, and he couldn’t blame you, but it didn’t make the thought of you leaving any less heartbreaking.

“Does it feel any better?”

“Much better,” you said truthfully as the cooling gel felt like a magical potion.

“This first aid kit is the only practical gift I’ve ever received. All others are for the aesthetic.”

“Do you prefer practical gifts, Mr. Kim?”

“Of course! The fuck am I going to do with a VVS diamond-encrusted chain?”

“Flex on all the other young CEOs?”

“And partake in their pissing contest? No, thank you.”

“You’re telling me you won’t be doing that this weekend at the Charity Ball?”

“When I have you next to me, I don’t need VVS diamonds,” Woojin grinned flirtatiously.

You hit his arm with your good hand and he flinched upon his correct prediction. “I am not an accessory!”

“Of course not! You are my beloved intelligent sidekick that all other big wigs tell me they wished they had! But when you look like that, it’s bonus points ~”

“Ugh, your kind are all the same!” you scoffed, trying to collect your things and storm out the door.

“It’s a compliment!” he teased. Woojin managed to chase after you and grab your things to carry to his car so he could drive you home for the 1106th time.

“Why are you so nervous?” Woojin teased, nudging your arm as you both walked up to the front doors of the venue. “This isn’t the first time you’ve played as my date.”

“I know, but it doesn’t get any easier,” you admitted, shyly covering yourself from the much-more revealing outfit now that it was tailored to fit.

“You and I look fine! Muted colors, minimal diamonds, low key attitudes - we’re perfect! No one will even notice we’re here.”

“Mr. Kim, who are you wearing?”

“Mr. Kim, who’s your lovely date?”

“Mr. Kim, what’s the best way to lock in that your date will go home with you?”

Woojin raised his hand slightly and all that could be heard were the cameras clicking. God, the power he has…

“Dior, a close friend, and be so irresistible that they can’t say no.”

Without another word, he gently took your bandaged hand and led you out of the circle of gossipers who were silent in awe. With your free hand, you covered up your ugly laughing.

“You’re such a cornball!” you said in between a fit of giggles.

“An irresistible cornball, at least. Now, walk me through all these people again?”

Woojin was young and when it came to networking, he still had the mentality of being the CEO’s son rather than the CEO. That meant that Woojin didn’t care much in remembering other CEO’s names and relied on you to remind him of all the people he should have remembered three years ago. It was a consistent hour of introductions and small talk about future goals, collaborations, and golfing, all of which you were able to expertly tune out while sipping prosecco and snacking on caviar tarts. Years of experience thankfully made these events easier.

“Did you practice your speech for your donation?” you reminded Woojin after taking a seat at the prestigious Table 2. Since the company was one of the Charity Ball’s biggest sponsors, the CEOs were always invited to say some manufactured speech.

“Yeah. I even practiced it in the shower. Hopefully I get the charity organization correct this time.”

“It’s amazing how you even got this far.”

The Charity Ball should have been named See Who Can Donate the Most Money Ball because every speech given by a CEO of some company tried to out-do each other. Luckily, your company’s speeches were always last and your touch of humanity written on paper always had the audience in awe with the Woojin’s compassion. To pass the time, you and Woojin played rock-paper-scissors and whomever lost had to drink champagne. Let’s just say Woojin ended up having the infamous Asian Glow.

“It is the greatest honor to be here and giving a speech for the third year in a row. Children are the source and future for a better world, and it is our duty to -”

You blanked out for most of it since you wrote it. It was hard to focus anyways when his eyes were so piercing, so you averted his gaze and counted the number of peppercorns on his unfinished steak. At an alarming fifty-three, you glanced around the gallery to see if anyone was actually paying attention. Many, if not all, of the guests around your age were paying attention with dreamy eyes and pouty lips, all wishing they were in your position tonight. Some even dared to make eye contact with you as if to say, ‘how DARE you NOT pay attention to the sexiest man alive!?’ The older, more powerful guests seemed genuinely interested in the amount Woojin was donating and the older dates seemed to care more about their reflection on the back of a spoon.

The fattest check with a bunch of zeros was walked onto the stage. A standing ovation was in order of course, and you conformed with the crowd, even though applause always made Woojin visibly uncomfortable.

“He throws a big, fat check to charity and yet he still doesn’t like the attention, huh?”

You smiled slyly at the man. “If it isn’t GQ’s Bachelor of the Month, Dr. Park Seonghwa.”

The raven-haired man gave you his signature smirk. Then he took your hand and kissed it tenderly like the prince he is. “Lovely _____, pleasure to see you as always.”

“Have you been doing that to all the other guests you frequent at these events?”

“Of course not! Just the beautiful ones.”

You let out a loud scoff. “You and your way with words.”

“Are they enough to convince you to finally go out to dinner with me?”

“Not quite.”

You took his hand. “One dance.”

“Five.”

“One.”

“Three?”

“Dr. Park!”

“What!? Ok, fine, one dance, unless you’re really feeling it and then we’ll dance some more.”

“Maybe in another lifetime, Dr. Park.”

Seonghwa let out a tired sigh. “Intelligent, beautiful, loyal, and good at dancing? How are you so good at everything?”

“Stop that.”

“I mean it! Yet no man swept you off your feet.”

“Just because I won’t say yes to you, doesn’t mean I’m not waiting for that special someone.”

Seonghwa held your hand up high and made you do a little twirl. “You might be waiting for a while, beautiful.”

“Why do you say that?”

“With Mr. Woojin by your side twenty-five hours eight days a week, there is no man that has the courage to come in between such a strong relationship.”

“Even you?” you challenged.

“Even I. Unless you want me to -”

“Nope.”

“Ice cold heart as always…”

While engulfed in the heated debate, Woojin was desperately searching for his right hand where he thought you’d be - either at your seat or by the bar, but you were at neither. After receiving his order from the bar, he let the expensive gold liquid over ice flooded through his bloodstream, which led him to a group of gawking gossipers whining and gazing at the dance floor. What was all the hype about?

The sight of you in the arms of the world’s most arrogant doctor didn’t sit too well with him. The scene made him see green.

“You’re such a liar!” Woojin heard you laugh aloud. “I did NOT give you so-called bedroom eyes at Yuta’s house warming!”

“You’re telling me you weren’t eyeing me up and down like a barbecued piece of pork belly dipped in sesame oil?”

“That’s because you had sesame oil on your white shirt!”

“Excuses, excuses.”

Woojin took another sip of his golden drink before putting it down haphazardly and waltzing towards the dancing couple. To onlookers, this scene looked like it was straight out of those cheesy love triangle dramas. The gossipy gals wondered - would Woojin punch Seonghwa? Would he grab your hand harshly and drag you away to scold you and tell you how much he cared about you? Would he kiss you!?

You saw your uncharacteristically stern-looking boss approaching, and even though you’re unsure of his intentions, you still smiled brightly, as you always did whenever you saw him. Woojin lightened his heavy, angry steps. Even with another man by your side, you still looked at him. How could he be mad at you?

“Hello, Mr. Woojin,” Seonghwa greeted, holding out a hand for him to shake. You knew your boss wasn’t the biggest fan of Seonghwa, but he politely returned the gesture anyways. Somehow you felt your heart beating in your throat - the tension on the dance floor was too high, too powerful, and you were but an awkward and nervous secretary standing on the side while two powerful men duked it out.

“Dr. Seonghwa, nice to see you again.” Woojin was good at lying, but his lies never passed you. The amount of discomfort knitted in his eyebrows almost made you snicker. “Long nights at the hospital still?”

“As always, but at least it’s rewarding and enjoyable. How are your long nights at the office?”

“Can’t get enough of them, right, _____?”

You shrugged unapologetically. “I love that overtime pay.”

“_____, that’s not good for your health -”

“I tell them that all the time,” Woojin interrupted defensively. He was always like this whenever anyone questioned the amount of work you had. To you, it was not much of a burden at all, but to anyone else, they couldn’t fathom your work hours but if they saw your paycheck, maybe they’d understand. Even your boss felt bad whenever your friends blamed him, but no matter how much he tried to convince you of a normal 40-hour work week, the duties of being his secretary never added up to just that. Therefore, your boss always felt the need to defend you and him for the sake of making sure you weren’t portrayed as his slave. “But you’re just so stubborn, aren’t you?”

“Only because it’s you, Mr. Kim,” you said like you’re reading a script. Somehow that doesn’t translate through the ears of the two powerful men in front of you, as your boss smiled triumphantly and Seonghwa couldn’t help but shake his head.

Park Seonghwa disappeared into the crowd and perhaps left the Charity Ball all together. Until next time.

Your boss turned to face you, whose stern face quickly melted into innocence as he knew what was coming by the look on your annoyed expression. “What?”

“What was that all about?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You shook your head and mumbled under your breath, “Ugh, you are unbelievable, Mr. Kim.”

As you tried to escape, the desperate man caught your hand. “Wait, where are you going?”

“Away from you for just five minutes, can you let me do that?” you snapped in a hushed volume. “Or do you need to watch over me and speak on my behalf, since you’re my Father apparently!”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to act like that.”

“You say that every time, especially when I’m talking to another man and even more-so when I’m talking to Dr. Park. When will your sorries mean something?”

“You know I get protective over you.”

“Again, you are not my Father!”

“I know, but -”

All of the attention that was once focused on the handsome CEO and his secretary shifted to the glass ceiling that was now shattered to pieces upon the force of some dozens of masked strangers dressed in all black. Woojin instinctively, though harshly, forced you down so he could hover over you so none of the glass hit you. What followed seemed to be too numbing, as all of the stimuli in the banquet hall was too much to handle.

“Get down,” Woojin instructed while pushing you under one of the tables. “Don’t move until I come back.”

“Wait, but where are you -”

“I’ll be back in ten minutes!”

“Mr. Kim!”

Of course, he didn’t listen, as Mr. Kim always did what he wanted, right? Which would normally annoy the fuck out of you, but who has the time to panic about what your boss was up to when you’re stranded under the table and shrouded by cheap table cloth linen?

“Threat level: Dragon. Please stay inside until all threats have been cleared. Threat level: Dragon. Please stay inside until -”

For some unknown reason, the voice paused, as if waiting for an answer or a reaction from the people. Nothing was heard besides shrill screaming and crying, which was probably what the wannabe-vigilante wanted. For the first time, you peaked through the slits of the table cloth. At the stage where Woojin gave his speech was a now-broken stage with the foot of a giant robot through it. It was a very top-heavy robot that looked like it had a large cavity in its belly, whose odd shape probably served some weird purpose unknown to everyone.

“Perhaps you’ll be proud of your donations for once when we capture you all and milk you of your every last penny!” The man laughed evilly at the head of the robot. “Down with the rich!”

“Down with the rich!” his people cheered in unison.

“Hey, I found another one!” someone yelled close by. “Under Table 2!”

Shit. “Fuck.”

Perhaps all those years of advance self defense classes that Woojin’s father enrolled you in would come to good use this time.

By your glamorously-strapped heel, one of the masked men dragged you out from under the table. There was no use in struggling, and the man seemed quite satisfied with how you complied.

“Let’s go, darling.”

“Don’t fucking call me darling,” you spat as a farewell.

There were too many men in between you and the emergency exit, so you had to fight your way through like in those cheesy American action movies. A bunch of kicks in the groin here and a couple baton to the knee caps there were enough to get you by half way, but then they started double-teaming on you. Of course, this was much harder, but Senior Mr. Kim didn’t give you the best sensei in the damn nation for no reason. You felt invincible even after defeating multiple double teams, but it was the triple teaming that got you stuck. You can only kick and baton so many groins at one time until two men held each of your arms and the other stole the baton.

“Try me again, bitch,” he seethed.

Woojin’s red and gold helmet swung sharply and the empty eyes were staring into the souls of your captors while at the same time not.

“Who’s next?” Woojin threatened with his super cool and inaccurately deep robotic voice.

“Are you ok?” he asked gingerly.

“I’m fine,” you promised. “Go save your investors.”

A light chuckle came from Iron Man. “My driver’s already waiting outside. Are you able to run?”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

“C’mon, _____, now’s not the time -”

“Do not argue with me until you save everyone, Mr. Kim.”

Woojin shook his head tiredly. He knew there was no use arguing with his headstrong secretary. “You’re so stubborn. Just promise you won’t get into any trouble this time.”

“No.”

“I’m cuttin’ down on your work hours!” he yelled, blasting off to fight the giant robot thing so he wouldn’t have to hear you argue back again.

“Kim Woojin, the man of the night,” the man controlling the ship scoffed. “You will look like my childhood favorite action figure once I stuff you in a glass box in my office! A prized treasure is what you’ll be. How does that sound?”

“Sounds kinky.” You could just sense the smirk behind his mask. “Then what will you do to me?”

“Milk you of all your assets, of course! Liquidation of its truest definition! The redistribution of wealth will come easy to the people, especially with your earnings in the mix!”

“Fine, take my money. But let these people go.”

“Absolutely not! I need all the money I can get! How do you expect me to change the distribution of wealth of the entire world with just one CEO’s salary!? Mr. Kim, I thought you knew that, silly.”

“Ok, fine. You take all of our money and then what?”

“Well, kill you, of course.”

A chorus of gasps and crying were heard from the belly of the machine.

Yeah, this guy was bad, but he had his points, so you’ll cheers to that, am I right?

A heavy arm swung to try and snatch up your boss. Though the arm was so large and heavy, Woojin barely managed to escape his grasp. By the silence of the once-chatty leader of the pack, you could tell that he was bothered by the words spat by the youngest CEO in the room. How dare Woojin mock his hard-earned pay when his earnings were given to him on a VVS diamond-encrusted platter!? There were a couple of times where he landed a couple of hits on your boss and you should feel worried, but you couldn’t help but think he deserved it. You hated to be on the enemy’s side, but you, too, were one of those five-figure salary paycheck owners that are barely scraping by with their bills. And of course you were all for the redistribution of wealth, but this guy definitely went a little too far…

You would think that the sheer size of this oddly-shaped hunk of metal wouldn’t be able to move so fast, but it managed to capture Woojin by digging its claw to the wall and sandwiching Woojin in between. He couldn’t even wiggle his way out between gaps because the THING was pressing too hard against the wall. Woojin could feel the metal bending from inside.

“Then we die, is that right?”

“Of course! But at least you’ll die a hard-working man, Mr. Kim.”

“I will. But I’ll die a hard-working man with billions in my grave before I let you take a penny!”

The blue beam of light that you once cursed for burning a half circle on your palm you were now thankful for, as that beam of light shot your boss up in the air and freed him, taking a few fingers off of the hunk of metal with him. A couple more shots of incinerator beams later, and both arms of the robot had been severed and half disintegrated. Woojin kicked the glass where the leader sat and pulled out the defenseless lump of flesh that spoke the harsh truth about the wealthy. The leader was a young man who was not much older than either you or your boss, who didn’t look afraid in the slightest. Perhaps he expected, or even wanted, to go out this way - fighting for what he believed in.

The police, who had been waiting outside for all the ruckus to die down, came in and cuffed the leader and a few of his minions who cowardly hid under the tables. Woojin helped all of his investors safely come out and among the crowd you saw Seonghwa, safe and sound.

“_____, wait!”

No, no, no, no, no, what the hell! Really!? Right now!? was how Woojin read your expression as he walked to you with the suit on. When the seven-foot something Iron Man stopped before you, the face of his helmet slid open to reveal an out-of-breath Woojin. The entire banquet hall echoed with gasps.

“Are you ok? You’re not hurt, are you? Your bruise is getting worse!”

“I’m fine, I promise,” you said convincingly. “Looks like you have an impromptu press conference to deal with.”

To Woojin’s dismay, all of the cameras and press and the phones of his business friends captured his face inside the Iron suit next to his famous secretary that all his business friends wished they had. He knew you hated press conferences because even though you never said anything, you were always by his side and that meant the cameras were pointed at you also.

“I can deal with them. Go to the car and go home.”

“I can stay with you.”

“I won’t allow it. You need to go home and ice your face.”

“I said I -”

“I said go.”

Woojin never raised his voice at you ever because he never had a reason to. You were always hard-working and loyal and you always did everything correctly and did it with his best interest in mind. He’ll allow small things that might be detrimental to your health, like all the over time you loved to have and the unhealthy amounts of coffee you drown yourself in. But when the arm that’s supporting your body weight was shaking, your left cheek was the color of aubergine, and you had blood splatters on different parts of your body, that’s when he had to draw the line. Worry was knitted into his brows and his lips were a flat line and you only ever saw his face like this whenever he talked with his father. It was terrifying to see him almost mad at you and it made your heart sink a little that you did something wrong.

He softened his expression upon seeing your glossy eyes. “Take Monday off to rest. I’ll see you on Tuesday, ok?”

“But -”

Woojin plastered on his happy television face and returned to the fawning crowd and overly-thankful investors. You were blinded by the flashing camera lights and that was your cue that you didn’t belong there anymore.

As if he planted a tracking device in your phone, Woojin texted you upon locking the front door to your place.

The Money Man [01:03 am]: did you make it home ok?

An involuntary smile spread across your lips.

You [01:04 am]: just got home. are you stalking me?

The Money Man [01:04 am]: you didn’t think the phone i gave you was completely harmless and bugless, did you? ;)

You [01:05 am]: i should have known better. how’s the impromptu press conference? are people surprised that it’s you?

The Money Man [01:07am]: they are, but at the same time it’s not. ppl keep asking me questions and won’t let me take the suit off, can you believe that!? it’s hot as balls in this thing!!

The Money Man [01:07am]: shit, gotta go - gotta somehow convince these idiots this is definitely NOT something to invest in.

You [01:08am]: text when you’re home.

The Money Man [01:08am]: yes, darling.

‘Darling’ has a nice ring to it.

Having Sunday all to yourself was normal and you did what you always did every weekend: cleaned your place, took your time making a nice meal, organizing all of your work papers, and ended the night with a hot shower and an ice pack to your cheek. Monday, on the other hand was a disaster. You were so bored! Your fingers were itching to scribble down your boss’s agenda and you were so tempted to log into your work laptop, but you knew Woojin would chew your ear off for not listening to him and resting as you should. It wasn’t your fault that you were a work-a-holic!

“What are you doing here?” you asked surprised.

Woojin was glad you didn’t seem disgusted by his presence since he was the one who told you to take the day off and you must be tired of seeing his face by now. He whipped out an oily bag from behind his back with a child-like grin on his face. It was an unusual sight to see a man dressed in a several thousand dollar business suit carrying a twenty dollar bag of dinner.

“You and I have some business to discuss.”

“Hold on, let me get this straight - you tell me to take the day off, rest up, ice my bloodshot cheek only for you to come into my home and say I need to work?”

“Yup,” he claimed unapologetically, squeezing past you to get through.

“Yes, please come in, Your Highness,” you rolled your eyes, though he was already setting up at your dinner table.

“Your home is nice. Why are you always so embarrassed whenever I try to come in?”

“I mean, look at it. It’s nowhere near as nice as your home.”

“It’s as more of a home than my place will ever be, no matter how many velvet cushions and arcade games I ask you to buy for the place.” Woojin whipped out two bottles of beer, his favorite chaser to wash down the oiliness of the fried chicken, and poured them into glasses. “How’s your cheek?”

“By the look on your face, I guess not so good?”

“I have, and it’s not as painful as it looks!”

“Oh, yeah?”

Woojin challenged your claim by standing in front of you and lowering his head to see you at eye-level. His face was way too close to be considered appropriate for CEO and Secretary relationship behavior, though you knew he never cared for those formalities. His eyes were always so sparkly per usual and that gave him that dreamy stare all the ladies in the office loved. You never saw the appeal to it until now, with only a few centimeters in between.

He poked your bruised-like-an-apple cheek.

“Ow, what the hell!” you screamed, swatting his hand away.

“Not as painful as it looks, my ass.”

“Well, people don’t go around poking my cheek all day!”

“Do you need pain killers? My doctor can write you a prescription for the best one on AND off market.”

“That’s ok, I only trust Dr. Seonghwa.”

Woojin gave you the same look he gave a former intern who got his breakfast and coffee order incorrect. Let’s just say the intern started crying on the spot. You, on the other hand, could barely hold in your snicker from his death glare. You were never on the receiving end of the infamous death glare and now that you were, it was hard to take it seriously.

“Ha ha,” Woojin fake laughed. “Not funny.”

“What exactly do you have against him, anyways? It’s surprising that you’re threatened by the likes of a doctor and not some other hot shot software company CEO.”

“I don’t have anything against him.”

“You’re such a liar!” you scoffed, taking a swig of the ice-cold beer. “If you didn’t have a problem with him, you wouldn’t have acted so defensive at the charity ball.”

“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” he said shamelessly. A vigorous bite of a chicken leg came afterwards. “He looks at you like how I look at chicken legs.”

“Well, maybe I like the way he looks at me.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Stop doing that.”

“You deserve it for acting like my Dad that night.”

“I said I was sorry! I even bought you dinner and cold beer to make up for it!”

“Oh, so this is not because you said that me and you have some business to discuss?”

“Well, that, too.” Woojin wiped his greasy fingers on his silk handkerchief that he kept on the inside of his breast pocket before whipping out his phone to show you multiple news articles on the night of the charity ball. “Watch these videos.”

Your brows furrowed worriedly because you had no idea how Woojin felt. “Are you mad…?

“Mad?” Woojin paused the current video and placed his phone face-down on the table so he could focus on his good chicken and better company. “Why would I be mad?”

“I don’t know! What’s the point in showing me these videos?”

“To show you how bad ass you look! Where did you even learn these moves!?”

“Pretty advanced is definitely a misnomer, love. Well, it’s good to hear that Father has made one good decision in his reign.”

“Is this the business you wanted to speak about?” you asked shyly, hoping that the beer was a good enough excuse for your blushing cheeks. You’ll never get used to Woojin praising you.

“Sort of. I have a proposition for you.”

“What, that you want me to be your sidekick?” you scoffed. When Woojin remained silent with only the same sly smirk on his lips, you could see your worst fears coming true. “Oh, God, you’re not serious.”

“I am one hundred percent serious.”

“Are you out of your damn mind!? I am not sidekick material!”

“You totally are! You and I are already the perfect duo! Why not take it up a notch!?”

“No, Mr. Kim, I cannot be your sidekick again, but in a different form and outfit!”

“Why not!? It’s not like I’m not going to pay you for it.”

“The pay is not the problem. The pay is never the problem. It’s…”

“It’s a huge commitment, I know,” Woojin admitted. “Too huge to even put a price on it. But can you at least consider it? I can’t imagine anyone else by my side except you.”

Now only if a man who wasn’t your boss said that to you without any underlying superhero context, you might have considered the proposal.

“Mr. Kim, I can’t…”

You hesitated getting the right words out, but Woojin knew why. You’ve been bringing up how you couldn’t stay his secretary forever, and although he knew this was true, he couldn’t help but try to keep you anyways. You’ve been loyal to him for so long that he often forgot how to treat you like a friend and not his subordinate. But the thought of you leaving? Soon, at that? It was something he didn’t want to think about just yet. He wanted to keep you by his side for as long as he could.

Woojin downed the last of his beer before whipping out his phone again. This time a slow song played over the speakers. He stood up and offered you a hand.

You raised a brow. “What are you…?”

“You and I never got to dance on Saturday. So dance with me.”

“Here? Right now? In my small ass apartment?”

“The next charity ball isn’t for another month and I don’t think I can wait that long.”

Then your boss pulled you in close enough that it felt like he was hugging you.

“S-Sir?” you stuttered nervously.

“Thank you,” he began. “For always being there.”

“Well, that’s my job,” you snickered.

“Not just as my secretary, but as my friend.”

“You think of me as your friend?”

“I do. Don’t tell Vice President Chan this, but I consider you one of my closest friends.”

“Really?”

“By association though. After all these years being by your side, it’s only natural that I came to like you.”

“I like you, too,” he chuckled, tucking some hairs behind your ear. “A little too much, at that.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“In another lifetime, I feel like you and I would be soulmates.”

“You don’t think we would be in this lifetime?”

Were you hoping to be? “Perhaps. By association though, right?”

You didn’t want to press more about any underlying meaning to his statements, so instead you looked down embarrassed. In another lifetime, in this lifetime, in multiple lifetimes, Woojin thought you and him would be each other’s soulmate no matter what, because a lifetime with you sounded perfect.

A thumb gently ran over the perimeter of your cheek bruise and it tickled rather than burned, so that was a good sign that it was healing. A loud tisk came from your boss.

“God, do I really put you through this much pain!?” he cried aloud.

“Huh? You didn’t cause this - those dumbass followers did!”

“I guess, but I was the one who brought you to that event! And what about the scar on your hand, huh? I definitely caused that one.”

“Well, yeah, but -”

“That’s it, I can’t be hurting you like this anymore. I can’t be putting you through all of this danger like you’re my bodyguard. I have to let you go.”

You knew he was joking when he couldn’t hold in his cheeky smile. “That is not probable cause to fire me, Mr. Kim.”

“Really? Dammit.”

“No matter how many times I get hurt, you can’t get rid of me that easily, ok? I go out on my own terms!”

“So strong willed… I almost hate it.” Woojin sighed exaggeratedly before pulling you in for a real hug this time. His arms squeezed your waist tightly, letting you know that he didn’t want to let you go even if he tried. “Just make sure to give me a two weeks notice, all right?”

“Anything for you, boss.”

“I’m going to miss hearing that from you the most when you leave.”

In another lifetime, huh? Too bad you were stuck in this one.

“You’re taking Ryujin…?” you repeated, as you couldn’t believe your ears.

“Yes, so you can go home early if you want,” Woojin said as he fixed his bow tie in the giant mirror in his office. He then turned to present to you with an ignorant grin. “How do I look?”

“Why are you taking her?”

“She’s been working hard this past month, so I thought I’d reward her with tonight and have her practice some networking skills.”

“How generous of you,” you mumbled bitterly to yourself.

“Hm?”

“Nothing.”

“Can you help me put on this chain necklace thing? The clasp is so damn tiny…”

“Are you ok?” he asked sincerely. He pressed a firm hand to your forehead. “Are you sick?”

You harshly swatted his hand away. “I’m fine.”

He shrugged it off, thinking that you probably had a bad week with all of the boring work he’s been having you deal with. A lot of weird and unsettling energy was pent up inside of you for the past month, so before you exited Woojin’s office for the weekend, for some reason you thought this was the appropriate time to speak on it.

“Actually, I’m not fine,” you blurted out. Woojin gave you his full attention for the first time that month. “I… I’m putting in my two weeks.”

His eyes went wide. “What?”

“I’m giving you my two weeks notice.”

“Do you have a job lined up?”

“No, but I will figure that out later.”

“You don’t have another job lined up but you want to quit? Where is this coming from?”

He didn’t sound angry. He wasn’t - he was more hurt than anything else that you wanted to leave without a proper explanation. He thought you and him were doing well… What changed so suddenly?

“I can’t do this anymore,” Woojin noted how your voice was shaking. “I was fine when you had me staying ungodly hours, I was fine when you had me get you coffee every morning and your dry cleaning every Monday, and I was fine when you involved with the Iron Man project, but now all you’ve given me lately is paperwork and shit that the new hires should be doing and not myself!”

“_____, language -”

Woojin was silent. You couldn’t tell if he was angry or sad or surprised at your sudden outburst. The tension in the room was suffocating and his silence even more so, like this was his ideal form of psychological torture. Woojin didn’t seem to care for your feelings anymore as he turned back to face the mirror.

“Your two weeks has been noted,” was all he said.

On days where you couldn’t help yourself - when you felt like torturing yourself - you would look up Woojin on all the tabloid sites. Surprisingly enough, this happened way more than you’d like. Of course, as you speculated, Ryujin had quickly taken your spot as his secretary and God, did you like to shit on how terrible she was! You didn’t have to be at the office to know that Woojin must be frustrated with her by the crookedness of his ties and jackets and how she must have forgotten to schedule a salon appointment by the look of his roots and unruly brows.

Ha! That’s what he fucking gets for not being grateful! That dick!

Perhaps you should have been less carefree, as a stranger snuck up behind you and knocked you out cold.

“Ryujin, where’s my document-signing pen?”

“Um, in your drawer?”

“Which drawer?”

“The one with all the other pens…?”

Woojin sighed loudly, running a hand through his curly locks and staring intently at the mess of papers that scattered on his desk. His desk hadn’t been this messy since the first day he started when he had to sign all of those official documents that transitioned him to CEO. The same day when he fell for you.

“Take the rest of the night off,” he told his subordinate.

The poor girl bowed obediently and scurried out the room.

Another sign left the young man’s lips. This time it was because he was tired. He couldn’t deal with anymore bullshit tonight.

An anonymous FaceTime call rang his phone. Who could be wanting to FaceTime him at such an odd hour of the weeknight?

When he swiped to answer, all he saw was you tied up roughly to a splintered chair with tape covering your mouth. Woojin nearly dropped his phone.

“Good evening, Mr. Kim,” a familiar voice sang. From the shadows behind you emerged the fake vigilante that led the invasion of the Charity Ball. “I see that you’re doing well.”

“What do you want?” he demanded quietly.

“I think you know what I want.” A shiny knife drew a line across the other cheek, small drops of blood seeping through and mixing with the dried tears and dirt. Woojin’s heart felt like it was collapsing. “A blank check addressed to little ol’ me.”

“If I see another scar on them, I’ll kill you,” he threatened.

The man held his hands up high in defensive mode and took a step away from you. “Fine, I won’t touch them! Just give me what we want near the docs.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Oh, and one more thing - come dressed in Iron Man and I’ll slice their throat. Bye!”

The line cut dead and Woojin had no choice but to leave empty-handed with only a blank check in his pocket.

The air inside the enclosed cargo bed was hot and suffocating and your rising panic did not ease your pain or heavy breathing one bit. It didn’t help that the guy and his minions were playing with your hair and playing with their knives, draggin the dull edges on your arms and neck. Normally, you wouldn’t be so weak and crying to the point that the tape around your mouth was loosening up, but life these days was tough and perhaps an event like this, causing Woojin major inconvenience once again, was what you deserved.

Scurrying and uneven footsteps were heard from outside and you really, really hoped it was Woojin not dressed in Iron Man.

“Here already? He must like you,” the leader teased.

Woojin’s shaking hands take hold of your face to try to calm you down. “Hey hey, shh, I’m here. Are you ok? Are you hurt?” You shook your head vigorously, whining and trying to break free from the ropes tying you down. “Hold on, I got you.”

Before Woojin could untie your hands, one of the minions hit him on the back of his head the same way they knocked you out. But your boss was stronger than that - his head was harder than his iron helmet. At the failed attempt, Woojin hurled the guy over his shoulder and out the cargo bed. Your bad ass boss got up like it was nothing, but he was breathing heavily.

Not because he was tired or weak, but because he was furious.

Three more guys tried to kick his ass and it was then you realized that your boss wasn’t just some fake hiding behind an iron suit who could program it to fight. He truly was kicking their ass! Like, raw strength and all! If you weren’t scared to death, you might have thought this was kind of hot. But then Woojin punched one of the guys too hard and it sent him flying over to you, to which you fell over and broke the chair. The rope was no longer tied to anything and you were free.

Yet another one of the lame-o sidekicks tried to capture you again, but now you were equally as furious, if not more, than your partner in crime. How dare they sneak up on you and not even give you a chance to fight back!? That was the definition of a weak-ass group of villains! So of course you had to show them a lesson and kick a few balls and some asses. But the number of asses was infinite and you were getting really tired. They had enough people to fight you and Woojin until you couldn’t keep up and then they’d kill you easily.

“Mr. Kim, now would be a good time for one of your brilliant plans!” you begged between kicks and breaths.

“Ten seconds tops. But when I say so, I need you to hold my hand, ok?”

“What!? What are you planning!?”

“Just trust me!” You and Woojin saw the leader direct the last ten of his minions to finish the job. “Ready? Three… two… one!”

A heavy force on the outside pushed the cargo bed off the edge of the pier and into the ocean with the purpose of drowning everyone in it. The only sensation you felt was ice cold water freezing your blood flow and Woojin grasping your hand for dear life while trying to swim up to the surface. Before blacking out from lack of oxygen, you felt the ripples of something entering the ocean and saw a faded red and golden glow of light. Not a second later, a hollowed Iron Man on autopilot rushed you and Woojin to the surface and placed you gently on the sand just under the pier. The silent night was filled with a chorus of ugly coughing fits from you and your boss. What a wonderful CEO slash ex-secretary couples activity this turned out to be.

As soon as your breathing returned to a rhythmic beat, a wet, crying, sand-covered Woojin held your face in his still-trembling hands. He didn’t say a word - he simply held you and pressed his forehead to yours, making sure that yes, this was real, and not some unconscious dream where he was still in the middle of the ocean drowning. Yes, you were there with him and you were alive.

“Why are you crying? I was the one kidnapped,” you joked, hoping it’d lighten up the mood if but a little bit.

Woojin laughed between sniffles and shivers, but couldn’t stop crying. He was smiling, but still crying, and if that didn’t perfectly depict this situation, you’re not sure there’s anything out there that did. Haphazardly, he planted a cold kiss on your forehead before pulling you into a hug.

“I’m so happy you’re ok,” he whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Why? You had nothing to do with this.”

You’re left breathless the moment your lips parted. “I-I, uh, I forgive you…”

“How could you ever think that I could replace you?” he muttered. “I could never. Not in this lifetime.”

“You also said that me and you wouldn’t happen in this lifetime,” you challenged.

“Lifetimes can merge into one, I guess.”

Iron Man returned to Woojin’s basement as soon as his job was done, so your favorite driver picked you two up in ten minutes with plush hot towels and dry clothes to change into. The pajamas you wore already had your initials monogrammed over your heart.

“Yeah, uh, about that,” Woojin began awkwardly on the car ride home. “I was going to gift them to you a couple Christmases ago, but you said that monogrammed clothing was cheesy and stupid, so I abstained…”

“... They’re not so bad,” you admitted truthfully. “Very soft.”

Coming home to Woojin’s felt so wrong, yet so right. You’ve only ever been inside for business reasons, such as redesigning his closets and kitchen pantry, but now that you were here on leisure - well, after almost fucking dying - it was kind of weird. But Woojin holding your hand reassured you that you were wanted here - that he needed you here.

“Take a shower upstairs. I’ll go make some tea.”

You left the shower smelling like orchids and eucalyptus and entered the kitchen that smelled like ginger and honey. Woojin, who had also showered, followed shortly after, stealing a kiss on your cheek that was cut up earlier that evening.

You followed Woojin to his giant marble island while he poured tea into white mugs on the other side. This felt so… domestic. This felt so right. This felt like home.

“I have a business proposition for you,” he smirked slyly.

Well, that ruined the moment. “What, no ‘how have you been the past month since I replaced you with some other chick’?”

“Fine, what is it?”

“I want to hire you back.”

“Mr. Kim, I already told you, I can’t -”

“As the Head Director of the Iron Man project.”

Your eyes widened at the prestigious title. “Head Director?”

“You stayed by my side through all the criticism and the praise and I can’t imagine a better person for the position.”

“So it’s not just a fancy title for like, super secretary, right…?”

Your handsome man chuckled. “No, I promise.”

“Head Director, huh?” your lips slowly spread into a grin. “I like the sound of that.”

“Is that a yes?”

“On a few conditions.”

“Hit me.”

“Higher pay with time-and-a-half.”

“Obviously.”

“I get my own secretary.”

“Of course.”

“An extra week of vacation.”

“You’re pushing it.”

“Last one. I’m your date to every event from now on.”

Woojin raised his eyebrow teasingly. “Oh? And if I say no?”

“Then I say no.”

“Jeez, I’m kidding! Of course you can, on two conditions.”

“Fine.”

“You call me Woojin from now on. Or boyfriend, or soulmate, or whatever suits your fancy.”

“Deal.”

“Second,” Woojin leaned in and puckered his pink lips. “Kiss me.”

You start your new job next week - after Woojin cashed in one week of vacation to spend with his soulmate.

#kim woojin #woojin #skz #stray kids #skz woojin #stray kids woojin #woojin imagines #woojin scenarios #kim woojin imagines #kim woojin scenarios #skz scenarios #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #omg ok good night KJADLKJSFL #woojin ily imy omg #i wanted to post this before the chan one but then i signed up for secret santa so that happened LMAO #lemme know what u think HEH

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