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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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scorsoneamelia · 3 years

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colors

here’s an amelink au!! i am super excited for this one and it may be confusing i’m so sorry if it is!!! i’m planning on making this a multi-fic so that’s why it’s so short cause this is just basically the first but BUT i WILL be continuing this one! hope it’s good and isn’t too confusing

tw: mentions of death

Colors didn’t exist; maybe they existed but nobody could see them. Everyone and everything was in black and white, skin color didn’t exist, nobody could tell when someone’s cheeks flushed red from embarrassment, the sky was always dark, cars were all the same color; the world was dull. It was either black, white or grey, some shades were darker and some were lighter. There was no such things as blues, purples, reds; nobody even knew what those were. Everyone saw in black and white unless they’re dying.

They didn’t know why, they didn’t know how but according to anyone who was dying they saw the world differently, more brighter, more full; more full of life and some would laugh at the irony considering the moment they’re dying the world goes from dull to light. It’s been researched about, it’s been talked about and some people think it’s a myth; seeing something completely different from others just because you’re dying. It can’t be true.

Some doctors believed it while some didn’t, people who weren’t dying thought they were crazy and some believed they actually were. (mind you, having people tell you you’re crazy, starts to sound believable.)

Maybe that’s why Amelia believed just that; believed that she was crazy. Because enough people told her that and even when she would look out the window the trees were not the same dull and bland color they normally were, and the sky was brighter and the clouds seemed more white. The theory of her being crazy became more true because even though the sky and the trees were different, the rest of the world wasn’t.

She was okay with being crazy; it made the world less dark and if it meant she got to look at the world this way until she dies, she’ll be okay with it. At least this way the sky didn’t match the darkness she had inside her.

The grocery store was different, while most things were the same bland and gloomy shades, some things were lit up; bright and beautiful. The lettuce was the same colour as the trees, where as the strawberries and bananas were normal; what she was used to. The blueberries were the same as the sky, only a much darker shade. It was weird, and she had a confused look on her face the entire time while everyone else didn’t. She wonders if anyone else, anyone at all can see the fruits the same way she did. (maybe they were crazy too.)

She was short, she’d admit that, especially when she was reaching for an item on a top shelf, her arm and fingers spread as far as they could, standing on the tip of her toes. A huff of frustration left her throat and she placed her feet flat onto the ground before she tried again, jumping slightly to try and reach the object.

“Need any help?” There was a voice beside her, a male who was much taller than her was reaching for the object, and it was easier for him.

He handed her the box, and she noticed his eyes resembled the sky, it made her breath get caught in her throat. She’s never seen someone look like that; that beautiful. His jawline was sharp and his eyes were a color that she has never seen until today and she couldn’t stop staring. He towered over her, his body shape was lean and he was fit, and super attractive. There was an awkward silence, neither of them breaking contact and his eyebrow was raised.

“This is usually the part where you say thank you,” his reply wasn’t hostile or rude, but he was smiling and there was a sparkle in his eyes that made him look even more beautiful. (if that was possible)

“Uh, ya,” she was stumbling over her words, her cheeks getting warm and she had to force herself to look away, to look anywhere but into his eyes. “Thanks.”

Her hair was short, shoulder length and it was a dark brown with a hint of blonde at the ends, mind you, brown hair or blonde hair wasn’t a thing, you either had dark hair or light hair. Her eyes matched his although hers were a darker blue, something she never noticed until today. Usually her eyes were heavy, dark and there wasn’t any hint of life in them. The male looking at her thought she was beautiful though.

“Atticus,” he was giving her his hand. “Lincoln.”

“Atticus? As in-“

“From To Kill a Mockingbird, yes, my parents are huge fans.” He interrupted her and she hadn’t grabbed his hand yet, although he still had it hovering in between them.

“Amelia,” she finally answered, their hands connecting to shake each other’s hand; a casual greeting. “Shepherd.”

The rest of the world was frozen and it was just the two of them, they both must have been lost in each others eyes because neither of them would stop staring. If it were up to her, she’d stand here everyday until her life came to an end because this was better than the alternative.

She was dying. Two years ago, as a doctor; a surgeon, she had the unfortunate luck of getting diagnosed with Pancreatic cancer. This form of cancer is very aggressive and the survival rate is less than 50%. They found hers late because she never showed any symptoms until it was too late.

She tried radiation treatment in attempt to shrink the tumour, making it easier for the surgeons to remove it but after nine months of her feeling weak and losing her hair, she ended it. It wasn’t working, the cancer wasn’t shrinking, it was just staying the same.

She remembers sitting on the bathroom floor, head over the toilet and she was emptying out her stomach. Her hands were gripped so hard onto the toilet bowl it was like she was holding on for life. There was a pounding in her temples, and it was worse when her eyes were open. She never felt good, always feeling like she literally was hit by a bus, but that’s what radiation and cancer did to you, so there was nothing she could do but sit with her head in the bowl, slow breaths in through her mouth and tears would spill out of her eyes.

Before the diagnosis, her hair was long, reaching to the middle of her back and it was thick. Most would argue that her hair was her best quality (until it wasn’t.) The radiation thinned out her hair, and she remembers all the nights she stood in front of her mirror and would watch her hands fill up with balls of her own hair. Her skin was more pale and she was losing weight. She wasn’t sure if the weight loss was from the radiation, the cancer or just because she had no motivation to eat. Her body was always weak and she was always so tired, she found herself always sleeping in later than usual and having naps constantly throughout the day. Even when she was awake, she wanted to stay in bed all day because, what was the point?

She made a promise to herself two years ago, a promise to not let anyone get too close. No friends, no boyfriends; nobody. Death comes with pain, and at this point it was all inevitable. How selfish would it be for her to make friends with someone and die none months later? If anyone got too close to her, she’d be leaving, she’d be leaving too too soon for anyone to be able to accept so being alone was her decision. Of course, she still had people in her life pre-cancer but those people were also loyal and too nice to listen to Amelia push them out of her life.

So maybe that’s the reason why she turned away from Atticus, her hands gripping onto the shopping kart and her knuckles were white. Don’t make friends with this guy.

“Are you from here?” He spoke again and his voice was like music to her ears.

“No,” she replied. “I moved here years ago.” She wasn’t going to give this guy much information because they were not going to get to know each other, she refuses it.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” His voice was hopeful, and she could see the hope in his eyes, too.

“Listen,-” she was going to be honest, tell him that she isn’t worth his time, that she wasn’t interested but instead she found herself lying. “I’m moving out of Seattle soon, maybe we’ll run into each other again and maybe... we won’t.”

“I’m hoping for the first option.” So was she, but she promised herself and she doesn’t want to let herself break that promise because the more people she knows, the more people she hurts and it’ll make dying more difficult for her.

“I will...” she trailed off, eyes meeting each others again and it took her breath away again. “see you around.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” She thinks his smile is as pretty as his eyes; maybe even prettier. He thinks she’s the most beautiful.

They were both flustered and it was obvious, but both of them tried to casually play it off before he disappeared around a corner, leaving her alone in the grocery store aisle. Perfect. Alone; just the way she wanted it to be.

Her doctor said that she had between nine and 12 months to live, the surgery wouldn’t be successful because her tumour was considered inoperable and too aggressive. Surgery would have been done if the radiation treatment would have worked by shrinking her tumour significantly, but unfortunately she was unlucky and didn’t get that option. It took a long time for her to process, there’s still a part of her that hasn’t completely processed the fact that she is, infact, dying. Soon her life will be over, she’ll never see anybody ever again, never be a doctor again and she’s come to terms with it (kind of), but some part of her is always wishing for a miracle.

She hasn’t kept in touch with her family, but it’s not like they’ve been begging for her attention or even putting in an ounce of effort. Amelia has lost people before, her family has lost people before and if not speaking to her family will make the pain they may or may not experience any less, then maybe that means cutting off everybody she once cared about.

Most people who have less than a year to live would create a bucketlist, sleep with however many people they want, do whatever they want until they take their last breath. Not Amelia though, instead she chose to push everyone away and spend her last few months doing what she loves; operating. But since she could literally die at any minute, she had to quit her job at the hospital. So, since she couldn’t do what she wanted to do she decided to be alone and as tragic as it sounds, Amelia finds comfort in it.

So no, she doesn’t hope she runs into the boy again mostly because she knows herself and she doesn’t trust it. She doesn’t trust the way his eyes make her feel, or the way his voice sounds or how his smile makes her hands tremble and her knees weak. No friends, no attachment. No boyfriends, no pain.

#ameliashepherd #amelia #amelink #amelinkfics #amelia x link #greysanatomyfics #greys anatomy #link and amelia #ameliafics #atticus link #stories

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aims-at-skies · 3 years

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HELLA LONG VILLANOS RANT PRO/CON

Anyone else tired of checking the villanos/villainous tag on here only to be met with unpopular opinions of it? Everyone has a right to their own opinion and on some things I agree. But HS, the criticisms boil down to a couple of things.

1. It wasn't what some people were expecting. Or rather it wasn't what they wanted it to be and are giving Alan and crew flack about it. (Its basically the WandaVision theorists upset that their predictions weren't canon)

2. Nitpicky stuff they dont like, like comparing characters' color tones from them and now, background shades, the insta story lines, parodying tik tok egirls, etc.

3. The misunderstanding of just how hard this project was hit to begin with, from it being made for CNLA (not even an American property, the fact that it got to be included in V&V and the CN Nexus special is huge for what they're working with), to not comprehending how economic situations are just flat out different in Mexico than in the U.S. and literally any job there is bound have something like that (even trying to explain they know better. They don't) not to mention the pandemic threw it all off schedule. The fact its still being worked on is a miracle at this point.

4. Ultimately it is a probs that they're just impatient at this point and just want to harshly criticize to distance themselves as publicly as they can and not set themselves up for disappointment.

This is not a hate post, in fact I'm just as impatient and agree on some points (particularly the length of time it takes and how the original crew was let go.) Theres a lot more stuff going on behind the scenes

But the two absolutely, most annoying things are the constant comparisons it gets to Vivziepop's works like they're a cut better in general or as proof that a series has to be like hers. To which can be easily argued that Helluva Boss is the equivalent of the Orientation videos. In which they're not the big BIG project, but a side thing meant to introduce the world at large for Villanos and Hazbin. I've seen people say that Villainous hasn't had any original footage which is total bs, because compiling all the shorts, pilot, crossovers, promotional material, secretive material, and the orientarion videos themselves clearly knock that point down.

And secondly that these criticisms have been used to turn speculations on the behind the scenes going ons into flat out lies, as if having parts of the story or even an idea of it and making it seem like the worst alternative is the only conclusion. There was an initial account, Nightfur I believe, that did the same thing except made themselves only making positive spins on the going ons which I admit is hella weird, but Petite is essentially doing the same thing on the opposite spectrum of it and honestly equally self righteous.

I'm not saying they don't have a right to their opinions, and to a certain extent, the fact that Petite's opinions are currently the what pops up most on the Villanos tag really speaks on the lack of Villainous content so on the time management she has point. I am just saying that she doesn't have to ruin it for everyone else with (my opinion) weak hot-take criticisms.

Honestly this rant comes from a place where I do enjoy what the series has so far. Not just in the personalities of the characters, but the comedy, the fact that its a Mexican made series (which one of this size has not existed on CN, idk what others they claim exist: El Tigre and Mucha Lucha were American Studio made), the little puzzles that can be deciphered in Spanish which I like that they were that way in the beginning but can accept its going to inevitably include English too. I like this phase of pre-series decoding and deciphering, and not having to full picture yet because I want to enjoy and learn about the lore in this story bit by bit. And many do to. Others don't like it thats fine and have every right to dislike the series and make their own conclusions on what happens behind the scenes.

The rest of us are just gonna keep vibin with clues, updates, and the existing content until the show drops. I have high hopes for it. I mean OTGW took a longer time to make and become what it ultimately ended up being and don't even get me started on the Gravity Falls and Steven Universe Hiatus'.

Other than that yea. This has been held in for a while but eh just had to vent and let it out. Feels better. Have a good one.

#villanos #villainous #rant #unpopularopinion #back to vibin #black hat #demencia #dr flug #505 #had the time and nothin better to do

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wordynerdygurl · 4 years

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Seven Minutes in Heaven

Author’s Note: Well hello my friends! Since hitting 1000 Followers in July (WHAT?! STILL UNBELIEVABLE!!!) I’ve been working on the requests sent in by my amazing troop of readers! This is another one of those stories which I’m pleased to share. As always, help my unending need for validation but re-blogging or liking the story! Also, you can send asks, make your own request, follow me, or be added to my tag-list! Last, @sammy-jo1977 is my beta... and my ride or die home girl! Thanks lady! Pairing: Loki x Female Reader, appearances from most of the Avengers

Summary/ Request: @queenofmischief asked for a story where “Loki and you guys are friends growing up and you realize you like him and try to hide it but somehow at a party or something or another, maybe Seven Minutes in Heaven is involved, it comes out and really hot smut ensues?”

I used some of the ideas you gave me, dear reader, but made it a little more mature, so I sincerely hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Lots of 80′s references... music, movies, clothes, etc. References of smut, heavy petting and kissing

ENJOY!

"But, like, I really don't want to go." Your cellphone, pinned between your ear and shoulder, pushed your earring into the tender flesh behind your lobe. It probably didn't help that the jewelry in question was a pair of huge hoops, fluorescent in color and hard plastic.

You heard Wanda sigh, "Yea… I know. It's just, we all are… and you know it'll be worse if you don't show up."

"I really hate it." Using a sing-song voice didn't change the feelings behind your words. Going up to the main floor of The Avengers Tower for a theme party was not a thrilling idea.

"I know you do-", pulling open the door between your room and hers, you palmed your phone, frowning at your friend, "-But you look great!"

"Radical… or wicked… or tubular would be more 80's appropriate." Still, her compliment made you smile. It really was a great outfit, totally encapsulating the MTV generation's vibe, complete with hot lime colored leg warmers.

Your cropped REO Speedwagon t-shirt was cut off at the neck, dripping low enough to expose one whole shoulder, and a wide stripe of the magenta colored tank top underneath. Having tucked the camisole into your acid washed denim micro miniskirt, you finished the ensemble with a pair of black pumps, and the obligatory scrunchie of cheap yellow satin. It pulled your hair into a low, side ponytail.

For makeup you'd painted your eye-shadow on, bright turquoise with pink under your brows. Lipstick in a shimmery rosy hue brought extra attention to your lips. And you stored your cell phone, lip gloss and keys in your iridescent fanny pack.

Wanda couldn't help giggling at the sight of you and your collection of clashing colors. For her look tonight she'd dawned a pair of skin tight leggings, an over-sized button down shirt with a stretchy black belt that was about four inches wide. Ballet flats, teased out hair and stark makeup had Wanda looking like a video vixen. It was impressive.

"See, you went sexy… and I went silly." Pouting now, you flopped onto your bed, "Can I just not?"

Sitting down next to you, patting your knee, "You don’t look silly, but you do look like you could be a hair band groupie! That’s sexy!” Shrugging your shoulders, unconvinced, Wanda added, “Besides, tonight… It may be fun. And, worse case? You get blitzed like a teenager on prom night."

"No… that's not the worst case. Worst case? He's there."

Sighing, Wanda shook her head, "He does still rub you the wrong way, huh? And, yes, he may be there… but-" standing, taking you with her, "-it would be a shame to waste all your wicked cool work!"

Hearing her use the dated vernacular made you grin. She was right. Tonight could be a blast, if you were able to get out of your head. Jumping off the bed, unsettling one of those fashionable leg warmers, you hugged your friend tightly. You could do this. You wouldn't be alone. And if Loki was there, he'd just have to get over it. You weren't going to pay him any attention.

---

"Mr. Loki… can we please go? We're already stupid late."

Bending to straighten his red suspenders, Loki smirked at himself, "Greed is good."

Sighing, exasperated and edging into anger, Peter pulled open the front door, "I don't know what that means, but you look… greasy."

"Like I could steal your company in a corporate take over? Maybe steal your woman too", Loki questioned, excited at the idea.

Crossing his arms over the red puffy vest he had bought specifically for tonight, Peter grunted, "Uh… I… I guess. I meant more like one of the assholes in Wolf of Wall Street."

God, you had better be there tonight. Loki was putting a lot of hope on Stark’s little shindig and he wanted to make sure that all of the little details were absolutely perfect, giving him every advantage. Standing now, slicking back his long dark hair, "That, my young spider friend, is exactly what I am going for… Evil 80′s CEO."

"Great."

Loki heard the frustration in the young man’s voice. Someday he would understand, Loki thought, turning to the youthful Avenger beside him, "You certainly make a dashing Marty McFly, Peter. Truly."

"Aw! Really, Mr. Loki? Ya mean it?" That made the Spider Boy preen, popping his collar, and standing a little straighter.

"I do! Now-" flashing a rakish smile to his reflection as he passed, "-let's get upstairs and see how everyone else is doing!"

---

Everyone else was ready to party. The last mission, a particularly difficult one, involved Hydra agents banging it out against our heroes along the rough terrain of the polar ice cap. Draining the physical and emotional resources of everyone, including you and Loki, Tony had planned a little party to kick off a period of rest and relaxation.

As soon as the elevator opened you knew it was going to be an insane night. Everything was brightly lit. Paper streamers were strung up haphazardly along the walls and ceiling. Big plastic buckets of chips and cheese curls were put out on the counter along with a huge punch bowl that reeked of rum and sugary fruit juice. On the floor in the kitchenette was a garbage can, freezing, full of ice, only the keg tap visible. A stack of red plastic cups was at the ready.

Someone had ordered pizza. Well, dozens of pizzas. The boxes were piled along the table already crammed with pretzel bags and Doritos.

Steve was being instructed on the basics of Beer Pong and, you decided, definitely being hustled by Sam. Bucky looked on with curiosity, quietly sneaking closer to the chips and dip, hoping no one would notice. Rhodey was watching them both through the reflective lenses of his aviator shades, doing a great job of looking like a Top Gun cadet, including the tight jeans and broken-in bomber jacket. Grinning as he drank down a bottle of beer, Rhodes shouted, "Hey Stank! Is all of this really necessary?"

"Don't come for me Rhodey!" Wearing a pair of neon leopard spotted knit pants, a green polo shirt and white sneakers, Tony was clutching a glass bowl filled with little slips of paper to his chest. No one had managed to figure out what they were or why he held them. Drinking two beers from his plastic, can holding helmet, Tony would answer only with a slightly slurred, "It's my trashy 80′s party and I do what I want!"

And Tony had thought of everything. Sounding like a mixed tape pulled from the radio, the tunes didn't let up! Ratt, Foreigner, Cindi Lauper, Madonna and Tom Petty all took turns blasting through the room. So many hits from the past pumped through the sound system, getting people on their feet and keeping them there. You were swinging and swaying along, having a blast, but when Bon Jovi hit the group of Intergalactic Warriors went wild.

Clint, rocking a mullet wig and a vest with no shirt, jumped onto a table making the motions of an air guitar champion. Singing into a beer bottle like it was his microphone, "Whoooooaaaa we're halfway there…"

Guffawing, you hid behind your Bud Light filled cup, already red cheeked from the non-stop laughing and alcohol in your system. At some point you had given up Wanda to Vision in a varsity jacket, doing his best jerk-off jock impression, and not quite pulling it off. It wasn't his fault that he was too polite to put people down in the way of Eighties movie bad guys. Alone, feeling flushed, but happy, you needed a break and some quiet. Flinging yourself onto the soft sofa, watching the frat house style antics unfold all around, you couldn’t help laughing. Tony always found a way to knock the group out of their post mission funk. Sometimes that meant week long Caribbean vacations and sometimes that meant dressing up in retro attire and scream singing with a cold beer in your hands. Either way, it seemed to bring everyone closer together, and the pictures were certainly worth framing. The couch dipped as someone joined you. Swiveling, not quite drunk but not quite sober, you couldn’t help the groan that left you. “Oh. It’s you.”

Not exactly the response Loki wanted, he was just grateful that you spoke to him at all. Lately you seemed to flee any room he entered, a hurt and heavy sigh escaping you before you'd make your exit, never looking back. Loki couldn't understand why.

After all, it had been two months since that night. The one where he'd stumbled on you, glowing blue in the light of the television set, alone and in the darkness. You asked him to join you, he had accepted.

The movie was called "Say Anything" and Loki had to admit, as far as romance on film went, this story was very moving. But that was an unexpected bonus to being so near to you. Before the credits rolled, you had burrowed against him, snuggled under his arm with your head on his chest.

Stroking your hair, Loki pressed a kiss to your forehead, thoughtlessly, naturally. Pushing away, looking up at him through hooded lashes, "You… you kissed me?"

Words failed the silver tongued devil, something he still pondered all these weeks later, so a nod was all you got for a response. Kneeling, your sleep shirt riding over your thighs, Loki watched your small hand rising to cup his cheek. Feeling your lips against his own was the beginning of the best night of his life.

And then, nothing. It was like a switch had been thrown and no matter how many ways he tried to reach out for you, Loki wasn't able to connect. Not like that night.

So, he was going against his nature tonight. Joining the group, drinking a bit of his brother's mead, wearing a dated but pristine business suit. All done in the vain hope that something would shift in his favor.

He had already lost too many nights to memories of you. Soft, full skin under his broad palms. The tiny moan you exhaled when Loki’s tongue met your own. How your wet, willing body accepted him, without question or stipulation. And in the afterglow, when your head rested in the crook of his neck and your cherry cola scented breath circled him, you let Loki hold you close.

But he buried it all. Tonight he was the embodiment of all things slick. Nothing could stick to him; not when he had a goal in mind and this much gel in his hair. Loki Odinson would be taking you home tonight, come hell or high water. Wolfish, Loki’s grin was wicked, “Yes. Your dream has come true.” Sitting back, he crossed his designer suit covered knee at the ankle, exposing socks with little golfers on them. He let his right arm rest along the back of the sofa, not around you… not yet, but inching closer. “What is that cologne you’re wearing?” “Don’t you like it? I’m told Drakkar Noir was quite the scent of the 80′s. I did my research.” Twisting, you looked him over, impressed despite yourself. The suit was totally of its time. Black, pinstriped and you were sure the jacket that came with it was draped somewhere safe. His shirt was shiny but soft and bright, blinding white. Suspenders of red matched the tie that draped down the center of his chest. With his hair combed straight back and held in place with some kind of product, Loki looked like he was capable of eating a six course lunch at Sardi’s, complete with dirty martinis, then jetting back to the office in time to defraud a corporate spending account. The kind of executive that blackmails a co-worker with pictures of a mistress. The kind of douche bag that tries to take over a rec center to build a mall. In short, an avarice little asshole. So, why was it so hot? “It’s… overpowering.”, boy, was that an understatement. Loki’s whole aesthetic was overpowering right now. And, was he moving closer? His bent knee brushed against your own as he leaned near enough to be heard at a whisper, “You look adorable, you know that?” Scrunching into the corner of the couch, eyeing him suspiciously, “Oh? Really?” “Really.”, his hand brushed over your exposed shoulder, making you jump at his touch.

Uh uh. No way. You would not be so easy to seduce this time around. Even if those wide hands sent goosebumps growing all over your body, Loki would not charm his way into your panties again. Not like last time.

It had been spontaneous. Genuine, at least for you. And in the moment, it felt like Loki had given you a little piece of himself, a tenderness that no one else ever saw in the far flung Frost Giant.

Maybe that's why Clint's words hurt so much. He had told you so casually, holding up a spoonful of Cheerios, "Loki said his last girl was a drag. Basic bitch? Is that what the kids say?"

Thinking about it now made your heart hurt. You had given yourself to someone who thought you were beneath him. Loki couldn't want you. You would never be good enough.

But that night haunted you. His soulful kisses that stole your breath. The drag of Loki’s hands over the swell of your bottom as you straddled his hips. His solid chest under your own hands, dark head curved against the couch cushion, but those burning eyes never leaving your face. “I thought you said I was plain. Simple. Boring.”

Leveling his own words back at him made Loki straighten in his seat. How could you think that? Unbalanced, stammering, “Uh… I… I’d never…” “Never expected me to find out? I believe that. And, let me tell you this-” Pushing yourself up with the help of the couch’s arm, you rose on unsteady legs, “-I’m not nearly drunk enough to fall into your arms again.” Spinning away, you made a dash towards the people in the kitchen, without looking back. Watching you go, Loki could do nothing but stare after your retreating form, flummoxed.

“That was… painful.”

He knew that voice well enough, frustrated, confused and unfit for company, “Go away, Tony.”

“I don’t think I will. In fact-” sitting down in your empty spot, patting Loki’s knee, “-I’m going to make myself comfortable. Now, tell Uncle Tony all about it.”

Rolling his eyes, unable to find you in the crowd, Loki risked a sideways glance at his replacement companion. Was he really going to indulge in this? Tell his almost friend about you… about your one night together? Loki raked his hands through the pomade in his hair, growling low, “If you breathe a word of it Tony, I’ll-” Lowering his wrap around sunglasses, peering at Loki, Tony smiled, “Your secret is safe with me.” ---

Thinking less and less about Loki as the night went on should have been a relief but it seemed like the scent of him followed you everywhere. Unable to get free of him, you busied yourself with drinks, dancing, and munching like you were a kid again. Anything to keep your mind from wandering.

It's not like the party was boring. Not at all! There was plenty to distract you and you let it. Natasha made you her partner for beer pong and somehow you successfully won against Rhodey and Sam.

Next, Wanda needed you, which is how you wound up sitting on the bathroom sink listening to her go on about Vision in that wistful, loving way that made your own heart ache. Being a little drunk, you had to fight the urge to cry because you were lonely and hurting. “I saw you talking to Loki… what was that about?” She was reapplying ruby red lipstick, studying herself in the mirror, not looking directly at you.

Wanda's voice cut through your self doubt spiral though, something you were thankful for, and with a casual tone you countered, “He was trying to get something started, I think.” Eyebrows lifting, Wanda’s interested piqued, “Really? Loki was hitting on you?” “Yea… I mean, I think so. Was coming on awfully strong too. But… he’s been a jerk, right?”

Wanda cleaned up her eye make-up taking a minute, after washing her hands she looked at you, “I mean, he is here.” “So?” “So, you know he’s not really a joiner. More of a lone wolf. In fact, I think this may be the first of these little parties he’s come to. Maybe he’s changed… grown a bit? And, honestly, you never asked him about-”

Hopping off the counter, cutting her off, more than a little huffy at her good sense, “No, I didn’t and I don’t plan to. Loki thinks I’m a bore? Too basic for him? Fine. I have better things to do with my time.” Laying her hand on your shoulder, Wanda stopped you, eyeing you in the mirror once more, “I know his words hurt… but you’re going to have to clear the air eventually. Especially if we’re all going to work together.”

Shrugging, you offered your friend a small smile. There was truth in her sentiment, even if your slightly drunken brain rebelled against hearing it, “Yea, you're right… plus-” looking around the small washroom, just to make sure no one could hear the pair of you, “- he looks really hot tonight!”

Giggling, Wanda hugged you close, “I didn’t want to say anything, but… yea he does!” The pair of you were still laughing together, standing at the back of the crowd as Tony turned down the music, announcing, “Gather round children, Uncle Tony needs your attention!” There were a few groans, mostly from the beer pong table, as apparently Bucky was unhappy about forfeiting his winning match. Everyone else, in all their high haired glory, were congregating near their host, curious and more than a little drunk.

“Tony, what the hell, man? You killed the tunes!”, Clint shouted, spilling Bud Light foam as he joined the tightening circle. “Patience, my drunk friend. You all remember this?” From the table nearby, Tony picked up his glass bowl, triumphant, “Our Destiny!”

Pepper, sighing with a smile, “So dramatic!” Shaking the bowl in her direction Tony smirked, “Ok smarty, then you pick first. Go on… Pick!” There were oohs and ahhs from the assembled Avengers. Rolling her eyes, Pepper reached in, grabbing the first slip her fingers found. Pulling it free, she grinned, eyeing Tony, “It says ‘Loki’...” Hearing his name, Loki snapped his head up, surprise registering on his face, “Excuse me?” Holding it up for his examination, Pepper waved the slip under the regal nose of the junior Odinson, “See… your name.” “Yes, but why?”

Butting in, Tony snatched the scrap from the hand of his lovely fiance, practically dancing with glee. Turning to Loki, “Now you, Gordon Gecko, pull a slip.” Aware of all eyes locked on him, Loki reached into the jar, digging around a little more than necessary. Finally satisfied, the thin paper pinched between his fingers, Loki opened the folded note. When his fierce gaze met yours, you knew without a doubt. It was your name he had grabbed. Throwing a thick arm across Loki’s broad shoulders, Tony hugged him close, “Well? What’s it say?” It all made sense in that moment. The tacky costumes, flat beer and endless music. A drunken moment of clarity had descended. Tony, waving his arms, eating up the crowd’s reactions, heads turning to gauge your response. Swallowing hard, your hearing failing you, you just faked a smile. You and Loki were going into the closet for Seven Minutes in Heaven. Only there was no way you were going to do that. Not after what he’d said. Not after your one night together, right? But you felt a gentle hand pushing your forward, into the center of your circle of friends and for some reason, your feet followed.

Refusing didn't enter your mind. With everyone ogling you and Loki, making a scene would only cause more speculation, something you weren't keen to do. Instead, you stepped next to Tony, outwardly eager to play along.

You just shouldn't have dared to look at your proposed make out partner. Laser focused, Loki’s lusty look hadn’t wavered. No, the light in those thundering blue eyes was carnal, darker than you had ever seen, matching your own. Against your better judgement, you wanted Loki, too.

Whatever Tony was saying was a blur, merely sounds, because you were utterly stunned by the nearness of Loki. The roaring laughs of the rest of the group were drowned out by your pounding heart. A door opened to a dim room, the pantry maybe? You didn’t know and in that moment you didn’t really care.

With a small smile, Loki ducked into the cupboard, lacing his fingers with yours, offering a bit of his strength. Dragging you inside, your body pinned between a shelf of snacks and the hard body of your frenemy, a whimper of want passed your lips. Loki still smelled so good and now he was so close. “Have fun you two!”, Tony’s words were accompanied by the door shutting you and Loki inside, in the dark. Surrounded by silence, Loki’s sharp pants were the only sound louder than your racing pulse, which was saying something. Afraid to move, afraid of spooking you, Loki struggled to search your stare in the low light. He had already experienced your angry dismissal of his attention tonight. It wasn't something he wanted to relive, not when you were so close with sweet and speedy breath, your chest brushing against his own at each exhale.

Lifting a hand, grazing over your uncovered shoulder, Loki's touch was electric. You moved towards it, towards him, needing more of his energy. Craving it.

Bold in the dark, you grabbed at Loki’s suspenders, tugging him closer. Rising on your toes, covering some of the distance between your mouth and his, you pressed a hot kiss to those soft, pink lips. Under your fluttering fingers Loki shivered, "Darling-"

"Shut up. I… I don't care."

"But I never…"

"I told you. I don't care. Now kiss me like you mean it, because we only have about six more minutes!"

Not needing any more encouragement, Loki found the flare of your hips in the shadows, molding your curves to the rigid planes of his body. Desperate, needy, you felt his tongue move against your own. Want, plain and simple, led your own fingers to the collar of Loki’s starched shirt and the tangle of his raven hair. Fisting it, tugging against those luscious locks, you couldn’t seem to get close enough to the tall God sharing your cupboard. Whining, his name on your lips, you drew Loki tight enough that the press of your breasts was edging towards pain. Demanding, true to your word, with every pass of Loki’s magical mouth over your own the last few weeks were forgotten. Hungry for more, Loki roughly squeezed the flesh of your ass, grinding you against his wool blend covered crotch. Stuttering, his arousal was so stiff, for a minute Loki worried about making a mess. But that feeling was replaced with unbridled ecstasy when your lips found the tender skin below his ear.

A nip, enough to make Loki hiss, was soon soothed by your sucking on the same spot. Resting your butt on the nearest shelf, you didn’t have to stand on tip-toe to reach the soft, sweet sections of Loki where you longed to lavish attention. He took advantage of your new position by sliding a free hand along the swell of your separated thighs. “I just need to feel you, dove. I need to know that you want me as much as I want you.” It was a husky whisper, directly into your ear, and it sent an arc of icy fire to your core. When his long fingers skimmed over the silky slick of your panties you moaned in unison, bucking into Loki’s touch, lost in the moment. Stepping between your legs, Loki took one of your hands into each of his own, pinning you wide open against the boxes of cereal and granola bars that lined the pantry walls. Devouring you slowly, Loki kissed along the column of muscles at your throat, across the exposed line of your clavicle. You could do little more than take his delicious torment as more and more of your sweat dappled skin was serviced by his silver tongue. “Yes… Loki…”, tumbling out of you, just like the night when you first came together, you crooned his name in delight. Breathless, boneless and broken with need. CLICK! The sound made you both freeze. Snapping swiftly, Loki’s head swung towards the door where the bright light and noisy crowd of the party was intruding into your private pantry. “WHOA, WHOA, WHOA! What do we have here?” Swinging into the tight space, Tony’s shrewd look took in the scene in seconds, “What were you two doing in here? It was a very quiet seven minutes!” Straightening to standing, Loki stood, blocking you from sight as you readjusted your clothes. Smoothing down his tangled strands, sarcasm dripping, “Talking. Very quietly.” When he was sure you were decent, Loki offered you his hand, and blinking you stepped back into the wild and raucous party still in full swing. Tony, flashing a knowing grin your way, nodded, “I hope you didn’t smush the chips! We still need those!” Giggling, you locked onto Loki’s arm, letting him lead you towards the keg and away from the shouted questions of your friends. You knew there was no mystery about what happened in those seven minutes. Hair mused, makeup smudged, lips swollen and shirts twisted, the pair of you were walking neon signs for getting to third base.

Silently Loki poured you a beer, taking a small glass of Asgardian mead for himself, before raising his glass your way. Returning his gesture, you downed the frothy ale fast, feeling a little parched after your spit swapping time in the hall closet. Boring into you, his eyes followed each of your movements, searching for a sign of your feelings. Dropping your empty cup on the counter, you turned and jumped onto the marble ledge, feet dangling. “Loki?” Placing his own glass down gently, Loki took his position between your bent knees, looking down at your darling face, “Yes?” “Did you say those things? That I was… boring? Basic?” Shaking his dark waves no, Loki bit into his bottom lip, “Never. What I said was, my last girl, ages ago, was those things… but my new lady-” tracing along your jaw, tipping your chin his way, “-she is everything I could ever want.”

“Am I… am I your new lady, then?” With a fierce flicker of fire in his eyes, Loki nodded yes this time, “Absolutely.” Leaning into him, arms around his neck, you tugged him down to meet your waiting lips. “Good. Good to know. Because I think I’m going to watch a movie tonight.” “Really? I recall really enjoying the last one.” “Hmm… me too.” Sliding off the counter, ducking under Loki’s long arms, you turned back to face him, “My room… say, an hour?”

Snapping his suspenders, smirking, “I’ll be there.” Watching you skip away made Loki’s pulse pound in anticipation. Pouring himself another glass of clear liquor, he chuckled, amazed at the change seven minutes had created.

“You’re welcome.” “Ah! Yes, many thanks Tony.”

Leaning against the counter, Tony knocked into Loki’s shoulder, “You’re cute together, Rock of Ages, but don’t make me regret helping you tonight! Treat her right.”

“Of course. I... truly, thank you.”, sincerity seeped from Loki at the favor from Tony. “No worries! No worries!” Waving away any additional gratitude, Tony looked over the group of half cocked, and totally cocked heroes before him, “Of course the real bitch was getting Pepper to pull your name from the bowl…”

My Marvelous Minxes tag-list: @queenofmischief @vodka-and-some-sass @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote @iamverity @iluvsumbucky @unadulteratedwizardlove @wolfsmom1 @procrastinatinglikeabitch @mizfit2 @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @ahintofkiwistrawberry @jessiejunebug @rorybutnotgilmore @crystalizedcaramel @lokislittlecorner @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81 @caffiend-queen @thenatalie @sammy-jo1977 @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @is-it-madness @jenjen8675309 @alexakeyloveloki @poetic-fiasco

#loki x reader #loki x you #hot loki #loki smut #loki love #1000followers #mcu smut #mcu fanfiction #loki fanfiction #loki fanfic #80's #80's loki #80's mcu

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fnf-brain-rot · 3 years

Text

We're In This Together [Pico's School AU] Prologue

"Yo, Pico! Catch!"

Pico could recognize the voice immediately as one of his real good friends, Darnell. He looked up from the sidewalk, spotting the boy from the other side of the fence of his home.

Darnell was an average looking dude, just like Pico. He had dark brown skin, and always wore the same tacky looking purple and yellow hoodie, and same normal baggy denim jeans. He always wore his hair in a flat top, but after a stupid prank from his older brother, it was lopsided. He ended up liking the look, so he kept it, much to Pico's dismay.

Darnell was taller than Pico, but the ginger always said when they get older, he was gonna be taller than both of his friends. they doubt that, always to get him riled up.

He rolled his eyes at the thought, then shot Darnell a playful scowl. "What're you doing, dumbass? We got school today." As he spoke, a ball came flying his way. He didn't have time to think before it hit him in the face, bouncing against the pavement and into the street. "I even gave you a warnin' man!" Darnell cackled as Pico put a hand on his head, now actually scowling at him.

He took the long walk around his fence, then ran to grab his ball before any cars decided to run it over. "You know I don't do sports!" Pico shouted back at him, only to feel an arm sling around his shoulder. He groaned, somewhat irritated from how much air is probably in Darnell's head right now. "Get your bag, and let's go." Darnell laughed at his seriousness, then went off back to his house. "Didn't know you were so eager to see Nene." he joked, and Pico's face flushed. "I do not like Nene!!" Darnell either didn't hear, or just didn't respond. He wanted to punch that guy sometimes.

_______________

The walk to school was playful, the two talking about what ridiculous stunts they would do on the way there. Nene was the only one in the group who certainly didn't understand Darnell's obsession with burning things, or Pico's obsession with breaking things. She only expressed her violent tendencies when she needed to.

Speak of the devil.. There she sat on the doorstep of the school building, obviously looking out for the two, trying to make sure they didn't die on their way to school or something. Her usual dress up was somewhat of an eye sore, clad in all pink gear, a bright pink tank dress, and lighter pink long sleeve under that. She always wore the same shade of tights underneath the darker pink dress, little pink Mary Janes with a cute little heart design, and to top it all off, a pink head band to keep her short, black hair in tact.

"Where have you two been?? Class already started!!" Nene shouted at the two. Pico rolled his eyes, nudging Darnell on the arm. "C'mon, before she gets any louder." They playfully gagged at each other, and caught Nene crossing her arms and puffing her cheeks. "Guess I just won't skip with you guys anymore." She scoffed, and the two boys looked to her urgently. "Noooo!"

"You always bring good snacks!!"

Nene scoffed, smacking both of them upside their heads as they approached her. "So all I'm good for is snacks?" Darnell rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, shrugging. "Basically?" Pico sighed lightly, rubbing his own head as well. "No, Nene." He reassured her. With a satisfied huff, she turned on her heel, opening the school doors for them. They're lucky they got there before they locked that shit shut.

The three ventured inside, turning right on the very first door, and walked inside. "Pico, Nene, Darnell.. You three are late." The teacher seemed to deflate a little a their entrance. Pico couldn't care less. "We're very sorry Mrs. Fee." Nene spoke for the two, and Darnell groaned. "I'm not." His retort elicited small giggles from within the class, and Mrs. Fee shook her head. "Just sit down, and get your text books. We're on page four forty-one." She informed them. Now it was Pico's turn to groan in protest. There weren't days any more boring than text book days. Well test days are a close second.

Pico, Nene, and Darnell sat in a perfectly straight line horizontally from each other, Nene on Pico's left, and Darnell on the right. Nene hated her seat sometimes due to being near one of the goth kids of the school, Cassandra. She was so brooding, and quiet. Pico thought she didn't have friends for a long time, until he had a run in with all those weird kids.

_______________

More goth kids?

Sure, Pico knew his class wasn't the only class in school. He just rarely saw anyone outside of their classes other than their five minute break for lockers. He was being forced to stay after school for math tutoring, which sucked ass. He'd rather do half of what he knows and get a D than be forced to actually learn the shit.

He spotted the group standing around the bathroom, the only one he could recognize being Cassandra. "Hey, Prick-o." Speak of the devil, she must have caught him staring, given she now had a hard smirk on her face. The other two boys turned to him as well. One of them had blue skin, which was weird, and the other had an eye patch. The one with the eye patch was pretty tall for a thirteen or fourteen year old. Pico wouldn't be caught dead fighting him.

"You got something to say, then say it." She scoffed at Pico's lack of response, and he sneered back at her, gripping his hold on his backpack. "I didn't know you had friends, Cassandra." He said, and Casandra growled. "You little.." She was about to go off on him, but Cyclops stepped forward, which honestly intimidated the Ginger. "Yeah she has friends, who wouldn't hesitate to beat your ass if you don't keep walking." He threatened him. He must be at least fifteen, he sounded like he hit puberty already.

Pico clicked his teeth and rolled his eyes to seem unfazed, so he continued on his way. Yeah, his heart was beating out of his chest, so what? Doesn't mean he's a pussy. Just.. let him call Nene and Darnell first, shit..

Fuck those guys.. He laughed under his breath. They weren't worth the energy.

_______________

"Have you heard about the desolate battlegrounds just outside the city?"

God they were so noisy..

"No you nerd. What does that have to do with us?"

Why couldn't he nap in peace..

"That means we'd be hit first if anything got through!"

"What are you two even talking about??"

Pico opened his eyes with an irritated grunt, pouting his lips and looking behind them. They had been walking home from school, but decided to stop at the park. They had hijacked the playground from all the younger kids, and Pico had decided to take a peaceful little nap near the slide, sitting on the steps that led up to it. Of course, Nene and Darnell were right by him, talking as loud as fucking possible.

"Duh! The fact that we're right next to a fucking warzone!" Pico scoffed at how worried he sounded. "We'll be just fine. My-" He had a wide smirk on his face as Darnell stopped him. "Don't you fucking say it."

"My dad-"

"Don't do it!!"

"-makes for a good condom."

Nene made a sound of disgust, and Darnell groaned as Pico burst into laughter. He really got his sense of humor from his dad. And damn proud of it. "That doesn't even make any sense." Nene huffed softly, and Pico sat up, now fully facing the two. "yeah it does! The military is protecting the city from being penetrated, therefore, condom joke." The ginger grinned proudly, showing off the gap right between his front teeth. he thought it was fucking adorable, fuck anyone who said it looked weird.

"You really need to stop hanging around your dad." Darnell grumbled, pulling out his phone. The sky began to transition to an orange color, so Darnell's parents wanted him and Pico home. Pico would stay over Darnell's house, since his dads only had so much to come back home and relax. Maybe only a couple weeks max, considering his dad is the captain. He likes to flex that a lot.

"We should get going. We'll walk you home first though." Darnell socked Nene in the arm, making her whine and rub the spot. That would probably bruise later. "Fine. But I can protect myself." She huffed as the group began to leave the playground. "You're a thirteen year old little girl Nene."

"And?"

"You so can't protect yourself!"

"You don't know that!"

Pico snickered as they bickered. Nene really thought she was so tough just because she took a few karate classes. In her defense, her parents did make her, specifically after finding out her two main friends were boys. He suddenly stopped in his tracks, glancing in the wake of the duo. He felt.. like he saw something in the corner of his eye. Weird.. He stared down the street, watching the street lamps turn on almost simultaneously. "Yo, Pico?" He turned around. Nene and Darnell had stopped, now looking at him. "C'mon dude, I don't feel like getting yelled at again." He exasperated.

Pico simply snorted. "I was yelled at too you dip." He retorted, quickly shuffling to catch up with them. Well, whatever it was, if it was anything, it would have to fight all three of them, so fuck it.

Everything was gonna be just fine.

#picos school #friday night funkin #pico #nene pico's school #darnell #fnf boyfriend #fnf girlfriend #alucard #cassandra pico's school #cyclops #picos school hanzou

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geeks-universe · 4 years

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Veritas Vos Liberabit II

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Tag List: @the-british-koala @ilearnedthatfromethepizzaman

If Sherlock was being honest, the free minutes of thought between the few rapidfire cases in the past week had all turned to you.

You were a walking contradiction. Everything you said- did, even- pointed to a million and one different options of who you were. He was trying his damndest to figure you out, like he had for everyone else, but he just couldn’t.

John and Mrs. Hudson had taken to you quickly, like you were a saint there to bless their lives, but Sherlock couldn’t shake his suspicions. You seemed innocent enough. The way you talked about people, like you actually cared.

There was something he was missing though.

And he was far too cautious to think that you were sincere.

Thus, while John was more than happy to accept the dinner invitation you extended to them exactly seven days after you officially moved in, Sherlock saw it as an opportunity to learn more.

Sherlock sniffed the air, taking note of a new fragrance. He furrowed his brows, watching as John brushed invisible dirt from the shoulders of his freshly pressed shirt.

“Is that a new cologne?” He asked, not waiting for John’s confirmation.

The man in question stuck close behind Sherlock as he made his way out of the door. Mrs. Hudson was waiting at the bottom of the stairs looking particularly pleased with herself. She, too, was dressed a fair bit nicer than normal, and sporting a bolder shade of lipstick than she normally did.

“A new shade?” He muttered, “What is wrong with you two?”

“Oh Sherlock,” Mrs. Hudson waved him off with an eye roll, “She’s a nice young woman, we’re just trying to make a good impression.”

John nodded a little too enthusiastically for Sherlock’s liking. If you were trying to wrap the occupants of 221B Baker Street around your finger, you were going to have to do a lot more.

“Right,” he cleared his throat, “On we go then.”

Mrs. Hudson and John were far too eager to scurry towards your door, reeling in their excitement to knock a few times. He really didn’t understand it. As far as he knew, you had only interacted with Mrs. Hudson and John three and four times, respectively. They were never exceedingly long interactions, and besides your ‘friendly’ attitude, it wasn’t like you’d been particularly serviceable.

So why did they like you so much?

As if on queue, you opened the door to your freshly furnished flat. The sudden exposure to a million different deductions filled his mind.

You were dressed nice, not over the top though. Despite the outfit not being too flashy, it still spoke of money. Considering the newspapers and many tabs open on your laptop, which were all messily placed on your coffee table behind you, you were still looking for a job.

Odd, that. He couldn’t quite pinpoint what kind of job you were looking for, or what your qualifications were.

The light smattering of makeup on your face and the relative neatness of your hair suggested a certain amount of effort being put into your appearance, though the flyaways and minimal smudging showed it had been done hours ago.

The furniture you decorated your flat with displayed an evident love of history and antiques, however the various books aligning the shelves of your living room didn’t really confirm the initial deduction. The necklace you seemed to be overly attached to might, as it was either a family heirloom or something particularly sentimental between you and your father. You kept it out of sight though, and the intelligent spark behind your eyes told him you’d more than caught on to his line of thinking.

“Mrs. Hudson, Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson,” you greeted them with a wide smile, opening the door even further in greeting.

“Just John is fine,” he assured you, then nudged Sherlock, “and he prefers Sherlock, otherwise people will start mistaking him for his brother.”

Sherlock shuddered at that particular thought, sneaking in behind his friends to get a better view of the place. It was organized and clean, far different from his own space, though a few particular areas seemed to be assembled in a hurry. More than likely, you were a clean person without a good sense of time.

“It smells delicious, dear,” Mrs. Hudson gushed, quick to find her seat at the table.

You had cooked a big dinner, far more than just the four of you could eat, but he felt as if that was intended. There was a wide spread of food, from pasta dishes to a full glazed ham. Cooking may have been a hobby, but the state of your kitchen paired with the frazzled expression as you did a once over to ensure it all looked good made him second guess that. Perhaps you were just trying to learn?

Curious, it seemed you were doing that with practically everything.

“Have you been cooking all day?” John laughed, looking at the dishes before him like he hadn’t been fed in a month.

To be fair, he either cooked- which he wasn’t even close to good at- or ordered takeout. Home cooked meals were a rarity at 221B Baker Street.

“Basically, yeah,” you smiled, gesturing so that the three of them began to help themselves.

Sherlock was quick to take the seat opposite you, and while he certainly didn’t turn down the opportunity to have some of the food you so graciously provided, he was more focused on you.

“I love the decorating you’ve done,” Mrs. Hudson commented, cutting Sherlock off before he had a chance to begin his interrogation.

He scowled momentarily as you thanked her, still all smiles and twinkling eyes. He didn’t understand how you could look so happy and positive, especially when he knew you were hiding something.

“Lucifer Morningstar,” Sherlock finally said, narrowing his eyes as he waited for your reaction.

You didn’t look particularly put out by it. In fact, the corner of your lips turned up even more, and he saw a hint of affection on your face.

“That’s my dad, yeah,” you nodded, taking a bite of your meal. “You’ve been doing some research.”

John flicked his gaze between you and then Sherlock, trying to interrupt before the latter began, but failing miserably as he took control of the silence.

“Colorful moniker, that.”

“Unfortunately, it’s his god-given name.” There was a certain amusement about you, clearly a joke he was missing.

“Poor man,” Mrs. Hudson commented regretfully, almost imagining as if she spent her life with the name of the Devil.

“Family’s not particularly religious,” Sherlock noted quietly, though you clearly heard him. He ignored the swift kick John sent his way under the table.

“Actually, they’re more religious than most,” you corrected.

Again, you seemed entirely genuine. Sherlock nearly growled. How did you not follow the normal patterns? Every human followed the normal patterns.

“And I thought Sherlock’s parents came up with funny names,” John joked, hoping to pull the conversation back to safe territory.

You went to reply, but stopped short when Sherlock was quick to speak up.

“Why Lucifer then?”

There was a twinkle in your gaze, and he found it absolutely frustrating, but entirely fascinating that he just couldn’t read you.

“Maybe the Devil is more than we think,” you countered, shrugging.

John let the silence permeate for less than a moment before he picked up the conversation, ever eager to retain a particular amount of sensibility and cordiality.

“What about your mother?” He inquired, though it wasn’t in the same regard as Sherlock. He asked more out of an interest to know more about your life, and not like you were a puzzle to solve.

“Oh,” you weren’t really grabbing anything with your fork, more like using it as a way to keep your hands occupied. “Well, Lucifer Morningstar,” you shot a quick smirk to Sherlock, “isn’t my actual father. He sort of adopted me.”

Adoption hadn’t crossed Sherlock’s mind, but now that you’d brought it up he was beginning to make a few more deductions. Still, none seemed quite fitting for you. A brief flick of his glance in the general direction of both Mrs. Hudson and John confirmed that it was just you, and not his own mind beginning to malfunction.

“I’m glad he did so,” Mrs. Hudson proclaimed, a wide smile on her lips as she took a large sip of one of the many wines you’d left out for your guests.

“Didn’t have much of a choice, I suppose,” you laughed softly, a sound Sherlock found most peculiar. It sounded so gentle and melodic, like you were expressing exactly what you felt- nothing more, nothing less. “He’s my older brother, actually.”

“Christmas dinner must get complicated,” John teased goodnaturedly.

Sherlock could see that his two companions were very much indeed falling for your charms and grace. They wanted your attention, and actively seeked out your smile. It’s like you had pulled them to your side so quickly.

“We don’t really celebrate Christmas,” you admitted, a sheepish smile.

Sherlock, finally at a point he could no longer hold in his frustration, let it be known to the entire table.

“You don’t make any sense.”

It was a simple enough exclamation, one that he uttered in a voice that was tinged with a seething anger. His eyes were narrowed and pinning you to the spot.

“Oh dear,” Mrs. Hudson murmured apologetically.

You paused, furrowing your brow like you couldn’t quite work out where his frustration was coming from. There was a hint of hurt, and it spurred his anger on even more.

“You’re hiding something.”

Once more, Sherlock pushed. He needed to know what it was he was missing. It was just out of reach, and if he could just dig a little further, the mystery could be solved.

“Sherlock,” John hissed, dropping his fork with a loud clang.

“Oh come off it,” Sherlock argued, pushing his chair back and resting his hands on his chin. “It’s obvious you’re running from your old life because you were unhappy, hm? Were they abusive? Or maybe you’ve just grown bored of the easy, spoiled lifestyle? So you come here, of all places, and just happen to move right next door to me? I don’t believe-”

“Sherlock, enough,” John had moved from his seat at some point during his monologue, and had grabbed a hold of Sherlock’s arm. He was pulling him up with more force than normal.

Being the more reasonable of the two, John was profusely apologizing for his friend’s behavior. Mrs. Hudson was thanking you for your hospitality, as well as the meal, as she led the small group out of your apartment, hoping to spare you the torment of Sherlock’s unwavering gaze.

By the time he’d been pulled to the door, Sherlock had managed to brush John off, sending one more glare in your direction.

“Who are you?”

You had barely moved from your spot, taken by complete surprise by the turn of events. Whatever you’d been expecting, it hadn’t been what was happening. Seeming to shake yourself out of the momentary confusion, you turned to the three you had hoped to begin a friendship with.

“I’m trying to figure that out myself,” you admitted quietly, almost to yourself.

Sherlock hadn’t expected that.

Nor had he expected the sad, faraway look in your eyes.

You looked so small then, and fragile, like the world was a big, scary place and you had no idea how to navigate it all alone.

Regret filled the air as John uttered one last goodbye before closing the door in an attempt to stop Sherlock from doing anymore damage. It wasn’t necessary though, as the consulting detective realized, though far too late, that his interrogation wasn’t needed.

You were a mystery, yes, but not because you were some massive threat placed precariously there to strike when Sherlock least expected. Rather, you were someone who genuinely didn’t know exactly who you were yet.

John’s angry rant went ignored.

Mrs. Hudson’s sad exclamations weren’t even given a proper listen.

Sherlock went directly to his room, and upon trying to sleep, found all he could see was your eyes and the sadness that permeated so deep it was like a root in your soul.

#sherlock x reader #sherlock imagine #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #sherlock holmes imagine #vvl

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the-melting-world · 3 years

Text

Secret Place

Sun Bai x Cadenza

This fic was fueled by “Secret Place” by CloZee

Sabina @arcanecadenza and I both agree that one of the reasons why Sundenza works so well is because they’re both proper in the streets, but freaks in the sheets. With that being said, please enjoy this fic where they behave as the former kinda.

cw: this is mostly fluff, but there are some lemony conversations during dinner 🍋

~2.2k words

Sun Bai’s back from his recent campaign at sea. He leaves a message at the door of Cadenza’s shop that asks her to be ready for dinner after sundown.

When Sun Bai came around the corner, he was happy to see Cadenza waiting for him. However, the only sign of how he was feeling was in the slight wrinkle of his nose and the unconscious urge to crack his knuckles. He wore his usual attire, but in a different fabric. Something darker, crisper and with more defined edges.

Bai noticed that Cadenza had styled herself for the occasion too. Her long, v-cut dress was in a solid color this time. It was dark out, but if Bai had to guess, he would settle on a deep shade of plum.

Cadenza’s hair was just as dark and healthy as he remembered, flaring about her head and framing her intense features. The magician stood with her arms folded, looking impatient.

When Bai came within earshot, she asked him point blank, “Why are we eating so late? And why aren’t you wearing your glasses?”

“I’m happy to see you too.” Bai stopped before her, his expression something between a sneer and a smirk. “I see better at night. My eyesight is sharpest when there’s no artificial light, but I can still handle myself without glasses.”

“Oh.” Cadenza uncrossed her arms. She seemed unsure what to do with them since Bai wasn’t one for physical touch. “Well, it is nice to see you again. I wish you had just knocked today instead of leaving a note. I wouldn’t have minded catching up with you over tea in between appointments.”

Bai angled his head towards the street. “We can catch up over tea when we get to where we’re going.”

He didn’t wait for her before he started to walk. Cadenza’s legs were long, so she easily caught up to him. When she asked where they were going to eat and pointed out that it was late enough for most restaurants to be closed, he only smiled and said, “Where we’re going isn’t far. It’s right here in South End.”

It was typical for the restaurant fronts to face the main road. So when Bai entered a congested side street clustered with family-owned shops, Cadenza thought they had taken an unexpected detour. When they finally reached their destination, Cadenza took note of how much unlike a restaurant it appeared. Despite what she saw, she definitely smelled the food – hot, beefy, fried and herbaceous all at once. If she was able to detect this much with her dulled senses, the smell must have been overwhelming to someone like Bai.

Cadenza caught the pirate observing her as she breathed in the different aromas. He opened the door for her, holding her gaze as she glided inside the building. Cadenza slowed down upon entering, expecting a host to escort them to a table. A shiver raced up her spine when she felt Bai’s fingertips press into the small of her back.

“This way.”

He steered her around a bend in the wall, towards the farthest corner of the restaurant. The pirate casually picked up a metal kettle from one of the stationary push carts and swiped two ceramic cups from an unoccupied table. By the time Cadenza caught up to him, he had chosen a circular booth and was already pouring tea from the kettle into the shallow cups.

“No one saw us come in,” Cadenza pointed out as she eased herself into the tight booth.

“We’re close to the kitchen,” Bai said without looking up from his task. “They’re bound to notice us.”

He was right. Shortly after they sat down, a bored-looking teenager in a white smock approached them with two menus. Bai shook his head before the kid came any closer.

“No. The other menu.”

Understanding flickered in their expression and they left without another word. When they came back to drop off Bai’s request, Cadenza asked, “What’s so special about that one?”

Bai waved over at the low-rising divider separating them from the other side of the restaurant where the Vesuvian diners were the most concentrated. “Everything on their plates is what they think people from my region eat.”

He held up the sheet in his hand. “This is a lot closer to what we actually eat.”

“So we’re about to have food from your home country,” Cadenza realized. She wondered why he hadn’t said something about it earlier.

Bai was focused on the menu. “We are.”

The waiter had only brought one this time, so Cadenza had to crane her neck to see what Bai was looking at. She didn’t recognize any of the characters looking back at her. Leaning back in her seat, she huffed, “I can’t read it, but I’m guessing you’ll help me with that.”

He did. Bai made it clear early on that they would be sharing everything they ordered. He asked how she felt about spicy foods. When Cadenza said that she preferred spice, he smiled. But Cadenza wasn’t entirely prepared to let him take the reins and order for her.

Bai seemed to sense her apprehension. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to make you eat anything too adventurous.”

Cadenza asked coolly, “What would qualify as too adventurous in your opinion?”

He shrugged. “Fish bladder.”

Cadenza blinked. “I… hadn’t realized that was an option.”

Bai must have found her expression amusing because he cracked a very small smile and said, “That’s why we’re sticking to the basics. Vegetables, noodles, and squid.”

The vegetables and noodles (which were semi-transparent) were concentrated in summer rolls and a dark heavenly-smelling broth called pho.

“How do you say it again? Fff-oh?” Cadenza asked after she had doctored her portion exactly like Bai showed her – with plum sauce, lime, cilantro, fresh jalapenos, and bean sprouts.

“It’s pronounced like fuhh,” he said as he added an entire stalk of basil and a full tray of bean sprouts and cilantro to his serving. The last dish to arrive was the salt and pepper squid. The sight of the new entree suddenly made Cadenza register all that they were sharing.

She did her best to not sound rude when she asked, “That looks great, but isn’t this a bit too much?”

A flat, clear noodle disappeared behind Bai’s lips as he swallowed. “I wanted you to have something else with some texture just in case you couldn’t taste much. Besides,” he looked fondly at the plate of hot, crispy squid, “that’s my favorite, so you don’t have to worry. Nothing here is going to waste.”

While Bai was preoccupied with fetching himself a piece, Cadenza took the time to study him. It had been at least two fortnights since she’d last seen the pirate and the dark-haired magician almost forgot how much she missed tracking his nervous patterns. She noticed a decrease in them tonight for some reason. And now that his glasses were gone, Cadenza found her attention returning to the smooth loop of jade hugging his septum and the same stones beading out vertically between his eyes. What hadn’t changed was the way his black and white tendrils fanned around his face and separated into dozens of ghostly wisps. He made no effort to move them out of the way as he ate.

“Bai? May I ask you a personal question?”

Bai was onto one of the summer rolls, dipping it in the sweet peanut sauce before biting into it.

“Go ahead.”

Cadenza hesitated. She wanted to choose her words carefully. “Since you don’t like to be touched, what do you do when you want to be more… intimate with your partners?”

Bai paused, the summer roll already halfway in his mouth. He pulled it out and fixed Cadenza with a look that was equal parts puzzled and suspicious.

Cadenza added as innocently as she could, “Do I really deserve that face? I said my question would be personal. By the way, you’re dripping peanut sauce all over the table.”

Bai snorted, but not unkindly. He put down the roll and used a napkin to clean up after himself. As he wiped, he explained, “I can get used to the person’s touch if I make an effort. But I have to really want to.”

Cadenza put down her chopsticks and folded her hands over the table. “Do you really want to... with me?”

Bai smirked. “Let’s see. I’ve worked myself up to kiss you.”

That’s when Cadenza felt that familiar, yet unexpected sensation. Brushing up against the inner walls of her mind were isolated, wet blades of grass. They tickled her every time Bai projected his ideas.

[I have inappropriate thoughts about you when I’m out at sea.]

“We’ve had tea a few times.”

[I asked you to strip and then finger yourself while I watched.]

“I’m taking you out to dinner right now.”

[And the last time I was in town, you were kind enough to suck my dick.]

“So what do you think, Cadenza?”

His presence departed her mind as easily as it had arrived.

Cadenza, who was prepared that Bai might pull something like this, inhaled slowly before coming back with her own assessment.

“I think all of that useful evidence confirms what I suspected up to this point. You want to touch me more. Well, I’ll have you know that I want you to touch me too. And I don’t want you to hesitate so much around me. I want for you to be comfortable enough to touch me while we’re intimate. That’s what I think.”

No matter how much he tried to hide it, Bai’s face turned a handsome shade of reddish gold behind his cup of tea. “Gods, Cadenza. I forgot how straightforward you could be.” He downed his drink. “Don’t get me wrong, I like it. But sometimes I have to catch myself.”

Cadenza smiled, quite pleased with herself. “I tend to have that effect on people.”

Bai held her gold-flecked gaze. “Do you really want me to get used to touching you?”

Cadenza sobered. “Yes. I really do.”

Bai wrinkled his nose and went back to helping himself to more squid.

“Then just give me time. I’ll get there.” He paused to stretch out his arm and brush the peaks of his knuckles against Cadenza’s wrist. “Maybe sooner than you think.”

They spent the rest of their time eating and talking. They were only approached by the waiter when the tea or water got low, but otherwise, they were not bothered. Bai finished the rest of the pho broth. Cadenza finished off the extra bean sprouts and cilantro stems.

“You don’t have to eat that,” Bai said when he saw what she was up to.

Cadenza replied, “I know, but I enjoy the crunch.”

The salt and pepper squid was clearly the highlight of the night. Sun Bai and Cadenza both wanted the last piece, but insisted that the other take it for themselves. They went back and forth on this until it was evident that their manners wouldn’t allow either to bend. So Cadenza asked Bai if they could split it between them. As soon as he agreed, she attacked the last morsel, dividing it into two pieces and making sure Bai ate the part she instructed him to.

Only after he swallowed, did Cadenza confess, “By the way, I gave you the bigger half.”

Bai smirked and pointed at the ceiling. “Thanks to the lighting, my eyes are not at their sharpest. So I saw no such thing.”

Cadenza sat back and folded her arms. “You may have chosen the restaurant, ordered everything we ate, and paid for it already, but face it. You got the last bite of the squid, and I let you have it.”

Bai didn’t want to waste any more time staring and grinning at the dark-haired magician, but she made it very difficult to look away.

“Fine. You win. Now will you let me walk you home?”

Thankfully, Cadenza was feeling generous. They walked back to her shop, following the canals. Cadenza led Bai a way where there wouldn’t be as many streetlights. They didn’t hold hands, but they walked close enough to brush elbows every now and then. Neither commented on it.

There was an empty square they passed through where the buildings were spread out enough to let in a lot of moonlight. It was here that Cadenza commented on Bai’s eyes. No longer ambiguous and dark, they reminded her of coarse black pepper.

“Your eyes,” she slowed down, “they’re gray. Like shattered gunmetal.”

Bai stopped too. It gave Cadenza a chance to study them even more. “I knew they weren’t brown, but I wasn’t sure if they were black.”

Bai’s hand came up to scratch the side of his neck. “Do you like them?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

The pirate didn’t smile. “I like yours too.” Before Cadenza could reply, he blurted, “I want you to hold onto my waist while I kiss you.”

Cadenza looked around at the empty square. “Now?”

Bai swallowed hard. “Yes. Right now.” His hands rose up to cradle her jaw. He carefully drew her in. Cadenza found his waist. She allowed herself to get lost in his dark gray eyes that fractured the moonlight like broken glass.

Bai leaned and tapped his warm lips against hers once, and again. He had improved since the first time. Bai allowed them both a breath before angling his head to the right and going in for more kisses, all of them soft and chaste and glancing.

Bai.

Cadenza was sure she hadn’t spoken her thoughts aloud, yet she heard an answer.

[Yes, Cadenza.]

She tried to look up at him through her eyelashes.

“You’re reading my thoughts?”

[Right now, yes.]

Cadenza closed her eyes and concentrated on what she needed to say, exactly what she needed him to know.

. . . I want you inside me tonight.

She wrapped her arms a bit more snugly around his waist.

[Yeah.]

Bai exhaled as he deepened the kiss.

[I know.]

#sun bai the psychic #sundenza #apprentice cadenza #sun bai x cadenza #the arcana #lemony #my writing

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sunareii · 4 years

Text

wc: 2773

suna grits his teeth, the light's too strong for him to see. he close his eyes shut, having no intentions to torture his eyes at the glow infront of him that is brighter as his mothers cellphone brightness. a deafening sound screeches at his ears like metal scratching another metal, oh how annoying that sound is.

he squints his eyes slightly as if his default eyes wasn't squinted enough. he could see a person, a female he assumes by their figure alone whose back faced towards him but the luminescence made his sight blur, he couldn't identify who it is

voice echoed insignificantly, he doesn't know whose is it nor where it's coming from except the voice started to scratch him in the head displeasingly

rintarou! rintarou! rintarou!

sunas eyes blinks open once to be greeted by his mother scowling after he has bestir himself from a horrible dream. he could hear a small voice saying 'oh no' inside his head as it's definetely not the first time he woke up to an angry face

"do you have any idea what time it is?" his mother barked, her face continues to grimace at her son. suna sits up groggily and reached for his phone beside him

12:47 pm

"how many times to i have to tell you to not stay up late!" she berates before pulling his cushion up, causing him to fall a bit from his stance and gets hit with it

"ow─! you just hit me with a pillow!" suna winces, strands of his dark hair are all over the place

"better than a slipper or your face would look even worse than just messy hair" the mother threatens before leaving the territtory so casually like she had not scolded anything at his sons ears. senzo could only choke a laugh at the freaky scene that occured upon his room, he had identified his apathetic relative as a fellow who would only shrug their shoulders when being rebuked or insulted. suna is infact a 'take no shit' kind of man, he's just wholesomely a bit playful with his mother.

suna goes down the stairs slothfully as his body might not be running his blood yet and he took a bit too long to go to the dining room where his food rests on the table cold as a corpse

"if you have woken up ealier it would have been warmer" his mothers interrupts from the living room. suna rolls his eyes then sneers at his mother from the room

'i wasn't even complaining but i am now' he thought as he opens the large plate that covers his meal, his boiled eggs as soggy as ever

he sits down at the at the table then started contemplating about his recent dream, was it even a dream? though it seems a bit vague but vivid when he was still in a slumber. suna reckons it was just another weird hallucination. he has quite plenty of those so this one is no special, except that this peculiar reverie didnt have any sort of plot unlike the time he dreamt about the miyas and some random player from karasuno that he'd only seen once have a bachelors party at a couple he had seen in a movie before while also drinking blue liquid which now is extremely questionable but that was just an example of the long list

suna hears a soft thump going down the stairs, he glance to see his cousin all dressed up for the day

"hey sen, are you going somewhere?"

"uh.. yeah, why?"

"can i go with you?"

"sure..."

senzo probably didn't sound sure himself, well that's because he isn't used to people wanting to join him to go outside or anything at all and he was receiving a small friendly treatment from a cousin he didn't knew existed and vice versa.

the two went out briefly after suna changing into some proper clothing for the day, the walk is quiet like the usual though they do give some comments here and ther. the sun sweltered upon them while two or three clouds wafts against each other.

"im going this way, is there a place you wanted to go?" senzo asks after an abrupt stop

suna truthfully didn't have a particular destination, he went with him 'cause he felt like it. they went far for him to just go back, he thought for a long minute before a specific location passes in his head.

"yes, actually

"i'll see ya later then" senzo says before walking away

suna felt awkward since his destination is far from where they had gone to

he doesn't know why he's making his way there, for fresh air? for the scenery? for someone?

suna halts as he sees a narrow space in the side of the hill, he figured it's also a path way up to the old patio he visited. he begins walking upwards and repents at his decision mid-way. the path is rocky and hard to stay still on because of the numerous inconsistent rock shapes. it doesn't help that there's a hot atmosphere around him as he continues to go up carefully.

sweat drips down his forehead, his tiny strands of bangs sticking along on it. the heat annoyed him as he reaches the top of the mountain hill, the sun beams directly at the crest where he now stands but once he finished catching his breath the brightest star seems to appear infront of him.

somehow the fieriness of this evening─the reason he's such a sweaty mess─suna doesn't seem to mind it anymore as he watches the the girl he had came across twice stand infront of him. she was there, like she had always been, tossing a ball over her head for who knows how long.

'wait, she does volleyball?'

i mean, he could see it but at the same time not so much?

though you were tad bit taller for an average height of a female and you don't look like you hold any outstanding physical attributes either but he can't really underestimate you that quickly can he?

sunas being remained unnoticed due to her keeping her concentration firmly. she tosses the ball up into the air, patently going to do a jump serve. from her evident zealousness you would be tricked that she'll actually spike or even jump with experience. she was slow and her legs looked stiff when she leaped, hell, she didn't even swing her arms in time, she barely even touched the ball.

'uhh.. that was an awkward serve' her attempt to serve was futile and funny even, suna can't help but to chortle instead of detaining it, his attempt to be discreet wasn't great either. she let's out a light gasp as soon as she heard him cackling from the side, she already was embarrassed at her shot but now that the same cute boy she saved from the market is a witness at her own frustration made her embarrassment go off the line than where it should be

"that was an impressive serve you just did" suna starts sarcastically whilst disturbingly taking little steps towards her. she could only scream her embarrassment deep on her palm, peeking her eyes through one of the gaps to see him, picking up the ball from the ground.

"how long have you been here?"

"long enough to see eveything"

"pleas erase it from your memory" she says blatantly as she finally regains her composure, suna shrugs at her as he hands the ball back to her, she unhesitatingly grabbing it back only for him to extend his arm up. the ball being too high for her too reach since the boy teasing her is intimidatingly tall.

"it's not that easy" suna replies as he looks down at the figure shorter than him giving him an irratating frown, "what do you know about volleyball?" she mumbles, her eyes looking elsewhere.

"alot of things" he remarks with a heavy stare. the girl infront of him seems surprised and asked "do you play?" which he answers with a curt nod. the silence after that is conscious and creates a long stare-down between the two, in addition to that is the beating heat of the sun baking them from below like they weren't perspiring enough from the exercise they had done in such a time.

"i'll just take this back then" she says as her feet tip-toes close to his level, the tip of her fingers hardly brushing off the ball. suna just stands there leisurely as he watches the girl he doesn't even know struggle into obtaining her property back.

suna gazes down at her meek nature, her cheeks faintly glows a pretty shade of pink, her hair cascading down her neck every now and then, the sun rays paints her skin too perfectly

suna smiles slightly as he pokes a little fun with her and having fun himself except to the part where he begins to feel her chest nudging his whenever she jumps and immidietly gave her her ball back smoothly. "here" he says before walking away from his agitation

she cocks an eyebrow at him when she turns around to face his retreating figure, his phone buzzed at his pocket, opening it to get a message from his mom and the second years groupchat, well maybe third years for noow on. yet suna couldn't be bothered to open either of them seeing as his mom just texted him some chores whilst the groupchat is just filled with the twins nonsense.

"could you play with me for a little while?" she asks reluctantly, dugging her nails on the air-filled ball

suna is bewildered at the instantaneous request but he figured it's better to take up on her behest than do his mothers errands anyway

turning his heel back, he meets her big eyes with his flat slanted ones and his actions seems to answer her offer

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

"what made you think playing straight under the sun was a great idea?" suna complains, panting heavily as the sun eventually plummets down. they stayed up on top for hours and instead of actually playing suna ended up teaching her the basics of volleyball for goodness sake she was an extremely slow learner.

"what do you mean? i like it up here" her tone filled with confusion as she questions him

"the sun literally fried us"

"you don't look that good to me"

"huh?" suna's brain is now all muddled by her statement causing him to give a repulsive look, she didn't seem too bothered by how she voiced her proclamation and only started walking down the stairs, suna following behind.

"you must be thirsty, i'll buy us some drinks, my treat" she announces as she holds out her baby blue colored wallet, turning left as they reached down the stairs, the vending machine is conveniently there aswell. "any preference?" she inquires only for suna to shook his head

"water is enough" he answers shortly

their drinks clank down at the bottom of the machinary and some gulping could be heard subseuquently. suna exhales lowly after drinking some refreshment. the wind passes and gives a cold whisk ontop of their skin, the sky is painted deep orange along with pale red. they soon walk in silence with the cold bottles, hers being a can of juice in their hands.

"can we play again?" she unexpectedly mutters shyly

suna glances at her, the tip of her ears turning incredibly red. "don't you have your own friends?" he mentions as he takes another sip. "i know quite a few people but only one or two are actually my friends and neither of them plays volleyball" she explains with her eyes shut

"if you're that wishful to learn the sport why not join your school volleyball club?"

she groans "i can't, my father doesn't let me join any after school activities"

"why?" sounding invasive only crossed his mind once she gave him an answer

"my dad is very strict, i need to be home before five he says" she mocks her father at the end of her sentence in a playful intention

"you're already pass your curfew, you child"

"you look the same age as me though"

"oh really?" they banter and it felt like they have known each other by a relatively long time. he enjoys her company it's fairly not too solemn and to him it feels nice to have a friendly jest with someone who won't intend to cause any issues unlike some two other people..

the usual tranquil in every interaction seem to be becoming consistent and recurring, they soon throw their bottles away in the trash bin sitting down the street like any other decent person

"so can we play again?" she asks the second time with a little more anticipation

suna didn't answer and only looks at her emotionlessly. does he really want to? she was nice but she's rather tenacious, there was a moment where he wanted to leave during the whole session. it seems the longer he stayed quiet, the more she became impatient

"come on! the guys who plays at the public court always looks intimadating"

"and i'm not?" he snickers while his eyebrow rose

"well, i didn't have the ideal impression of you at first though but now you seem like a cool guy" she explains giving him a small thumbs up

"do you mean when you rescued me in the market?"

"no, earlier than that" suna thinks for a moment to the point of looking up on the dark sky before the memory finally getting into his head

"oh, you mean the birdnest hair? yeah i remember now" he teases with a little smile

"it's not like you looked any better with your own hair at the time"

"so─!" she starts a little louder than her monotonious voice before smiling at him keenly exactly how she eyed him the last time they met "how about it city boy!"

suna sighs and scrunched his nose at the nickname, he presumes because of his unfamiliar dialect "you're that persistent, and why city boy?"

"i never got your name after all this time, you know" nor did he ever got her name

suna looks down for a moment, he couldn't fathom what is wrong with him just telling her his name, it's not like he won't get hers when he answers.

"suna rintarou" he replies blankly

"suna rintarou?" she says questioningly, he nods his head

"suna rintarou... suna rintarou" she repeats in a breathy whisper as if engraving his name in her mind

"l/n y/n" she introduces herself back, "nice to meet you, suna" suna didn't reply much and only says "likewise" back and continuous the conversation where they have left just before the introduction.

suna rests his hand in his pocket, "you seem too willing to hang out with someone you only met thrice"

"i like you anyway so it's fine!" she beams a little too bluntly and it didn't help how she closed the proximity between them, literally doesn't intend to let him go off the question.

"sure" he mouthed rather than openly saying it

"what?"

"i said i'll think about it" he claims as he turns his back to her to turn on the side of the sidewalks, "see you! you should know by now where to find me if you ever want to see me" she emphasized, waving her hands at him which suna imitated briefly before disappearing to her sight completely.

✥﹤┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈﹥✥

"curse you gate!"

the door slides open revealing her father staring at her expectantly waiting for her with his arms crossed just rught after she got inside the platform

"what's your excuse this time?" he awaits, his finger tapping his forearm

y/n stops her foot on the soft muck as she faces her humble abode. she struggles to open the gate as quietly as possibly but the damned steel gate really wanted her caught, huh?

"i.. was playing volleyball.." she says with all honesty as she step infront of the doorstep

"alone again?" his father assumes, he doesn't understand why she keeps sneaking out outside just to be doing things all by herself

"nope, with a newly found friend this time" y/n murmurs as she takes off her shoes before entering her home nonchalantly. she wouldn't mind getting in trouble for the day and her father takes note of her uplifted mood quizzically

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taglist (open!); @akaaaashit @sredamancy

#suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou #haikyuu suna rintarou #rintarou suna #haikyuu reader insert #haikyuu x reader #rintarou suna x reader #haikyuu suna

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thewolfmanslayer · 3 years

Text

Honestly the amount of people who say artists and writers should do stuff for free, or try to rip them off on comissions still royally piss me off.

I think the worst part of it is the entitlement, I dont want to make this too much about generations but a lot of commissioners are millenial/Gen z's who grew up on the "steal and pirate everything" mentality, take everything that you can because no one else is going to hand it to you. which I can get behind, when you are screwing over MULTI BILLION DOLLAR COMPANIES. NOT THE STRUGGLING ARTISTS AND WRITERS who are trying to keep food on the table as desperately as you probably are!

It's simple, you wouldn't walk into a restaurant, order food and tell the server "sorry I don't have any money, but I've got like a few thousand followers on social media, I can get your name out there, get the restaurant some exposure" NO! They don't need "exposure" they need you to pay the damn bill!

On top of that, most of these artists and writers ALREADY HAVE FOLLOWINGS. They already have thousands of people following them, waiting for the chance to get a commission, who are willing to pay for said commission, they don't need "exposure" when they're already out there! He'll even the artists and writers with a few hundred don't need it, they'll get more followers as time goes by, their skill alone will see to it.

And what is with people trying to get free art and writing? It's not going to work! You can't harass someone until they cave, trust me, you'll be long since blocked before you even have the opportunity. I don't do comissions, online anyways, but my own friends and family, people who actually know me STILL PAY ME whenever they ask for me to do art for them because they KNOW it takes TIME AND EFFORT.

How many times do we need to have this discussion???? Like when is it going to finally click that people who need to pay their bills just as much as you do AREN'T going to do this shit for free!?

Here's the thing about art and writing, that you've heard a billion times but still aren't getting; IT. TAKES. TIME. AND. EFFORT. TO. GET. DONE. the art isn't going to magically appear and the writing isn't going to suddenly write itself, if either were so convenient YOU WOULDNT BE ASKING AN ARTIST OR WRITER IN THE FIRST PLACE!

Look at that, you see that? The first picture I did back in 2012-13, the picture beside it? I did that TWO YEARS AGO. I didn't suddenly know exactly what to do, or had anything close to a god given talent for drawing (I'm not that talented). The first picture WAS THE ABSOLUTE BEST I COULD DO AT THE TIME THAT I MADE IT. In the time between these two drawings I admittedly took a break from art, but then I got back into it four years ago. EVEN STILL that was four YEARS of starting over from the basics, relearning everything, learning new things, wanting to actually improve my art.

Which, guess what, DID NOT HAPPEN OVER NIGHT. It was HOURS UPON HOURS of my limited free time as an adult drawing over and over and over and over again, every single goddamn day to get to the point that I was able to make that redraw look as good as it does in comparison. He'll, my art now puts them both to shame! Because I spent the time improving my quality!!

Now look at these artists doing comissions, they've probably put EVEN MORE of their time to get that good! They've put in LITERAL YEARS of sweat, blood, tears, frustrations and dedicated hardwork. Some did the same as me, self teaching and lots of practice, others probably had to go to school, which definitely wasn't cheap. But all of us put in that time and effort TO REACH THESE POINTS. Of being better artists, developing our styles, getting faster at drawing.

And maybe you think that this is super easy, right? That I or every other artist can just fire some art off and boom its good and done in like an hour?

FUCK. NO.

Even now it takes me several hours a day OVER MANY DAYS to make something exceptionally good! It doesn't matter how good an artist is, it still. Takes. Time.

Maybe the issue is that you don't understand how much actually goes into art, let me break it down for you, the steps that most people follow to finish ONE drawing.

-Rough draft: general character outline, get a feel for what I want to draw.

-Rough sketch: I start doing a bit of pencil to start filling in details like mouth, nose, eyes, hair, clothes. Ect.

-Penciling: I go over the rough sketch and clean everything up, maybe do some editing, this is when you can start making out all the details.

-Ink: I trace over the finished pencil with a pen tool and actually have the line art, everything looks clean, presentable, it actually looks like a character now. I'll spend time editing this and possibly redoing the inking many times over to get to a point where I like it.

-Flat color: I decide on which colors to use for skin tone, clothes accessories. Ect.

-Shading/highlights: I figure out where my light source is and how strong it is, I then apply the correct amount of lighting and shadows to the color to give it depth, I also have determine the texture of skin, clothes and accessories to make everything look real and natural.

-Blending: I smooth out the shading and highlights so that it looks more natural and isn't too hard (noticeable difference between color) so that it looks as natural as possible.

-Finish: I go over last minute details, finish any editing or corrections that need to be done. Once it's good I call it a day.

Each process is longer in length then the previous, with the exception of the final editing (as long as everything looks good) and even the rough draft can take some time. Over all this is SEVERAL HOURS of work for a SINGLE DRAWING.

So is it sinking in yet? How much is put into doing even a single character drawing? God forbid if its done with background. This isn't a "scratch a pen around and be done with it in ten minutes" kinda deal, no, this is SEVERAL HOURS OF SOMEONES LIFE BEING PUT INTO THIS

And if you still have the AUDACITY to try and wrangle free art from an artist then there's no helping you, you're just a selfish piece of shit, no question and I want nothing to do with you.

Someone might say "But I got free art/writing from.-" look I don't give a shit if someone did something for you THAT ONE TIME, these other artists and writers? Totally seperate and different people. You're one freebie experience does not, and should not apply to other artists and writers.

"But what if I really want this commission but don't have the money right now?" Well, that's tough shit. Save up and properly commission them when you can, it's not their problem.

"But what if I'm in a really bad financial situation and really want it?" That sucks, and I'm sorry, but again, not their problem. Chances are this is their only source of income and they need to make money so that they don't end up in a similar situation.

"They have a gift! They should share it!" What kind of cheap ass- LOOK, just because someone is talented or really good at something does not automatically obligate them to do anything for total strangers in anyway shape or form. These are living, breathing people, the same as you. They need to eat, they need to pay rent/mortgages, they need to pay vet bills, send their kids to college, do their taxes and everything else that YOU YOURSELF need to do. Asking anyone to spend their time doing something for free, when that something is how THEY ARE SURVIVING is beyond asinine. Not only that, this obviously isn't a hobby to them, it is very clearly THEIR JOB. Would you want to do a job where you didn't get paid at all? Doing a shit ton of work for absolutely nothing? No? Didn't think so.

"It shouldn't be about the money!" Well unfortunately, as with almost every other job, it is. We live in a world where we desperately need to make money in order to survive. That's the painful fact of the matter. If money never had to be an issue ever again then this would be a very different story. But it's not, plain and simple as can be.

Look, these people are just like you, artists and writers who are just trying to get by in a shitty ass world, using the one thing they have that let's them have an income. Leave them be, don't try and trick them, guilt them, or cuss them out when you don't get your way. Either properly comission or leave them the hell alone, plain and simple.

#artists #writers #art #writing #rant #comissions #people

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darkhymns-fic · 3 years

Text

Heroes & Thieves

Whether rich or poor, everyone has heard of the pair of dual-wielding masked thieves that roam both countries of Sylvarant and Tethe'alla - the Red Phantom and the Blue Angel. And of course, their frightening hound that would whisk them away into the middle of the night, leaving no trace behind. (Well, almost any trace, if one ignored the person-shaped holes that would decorated a ransacked mansion or vault).

But after breaking into a mansion with its overabundance of unopened presents, the famous thieves may have just met their match. Who was this weird ninja?

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel, Sheena Fujibayashi, Zelos Wilder, Noishe Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: Colette has her item thief arte, while Lloyd knows how to lockpick. Obviously, they should work together as thieves! This is basically that fic.

Around 8k of silliness and dastardly thievery (kinda). Let me know if you enjoyed!

Meltokio usually didn’t get quiet until late into the night. Nor did it get dark enough either, with the lampposts, powered by magitechnology, lighting up the cobblestone streets. Every lone passerby, usually a high noble that had stayed over at a gala party far too late, was illuminated by the soft glow on their path. Sometimes it would also be a merchant rushing back home after finally closing up shop, or a beggar trying to find a soft place to rest now that local guards of the upper level patrolled a bit less.

Still, even with night owls roaming the streets, there were pockets of shadows just out of the light’s reach. Perfect for hiding those who wished to stay hidden, who wished to be as stealthy as they could…

“I think this is the wrong street,” spoke a voice that broke the night’s stillness.

If one could hear the soft padding to the right of the pathway, they’d only catch the fleeting image of a creature on all fours, with two figures riding atop it. But when Noishe really, really tried, he could be as silent as he could, the pads on his feet minimizing all sound. Although, when his claws were too long, they tended to clack against stone…

Lloyd, hearing both Colette’s concerns and Noishe’s click-clacks , tried to problem-solve this in the span of a minute. He already had a map out, which he couldn’t see much because, well, it was really dark here when they were out of the light like this… “Are you sure? This place looks pretty fancy…”

“I think this is the shop district? Not the residential area!” Colette sounded apologetic, even as Lloyd was slowly realizing that she was very right, and that he was very wrong… The potion shop that they had just passed was a bit of a dead give-away.

“Argh, dammit… Okay, new plan!” Lloyd patted Noishe on the head, getting his attention. “Go up the stairs over here, okay boy?”

“I always worry we’re too heavy for him…” spoke Colette, even as Noishe followed instructions obediently (but not without a whine), loping across some bushes to get to the giant stone stairway, still keeping to the shadows as much as he could.

“Don’t worry, Noishe is strong! And he can run like the wind even with double us on top! I just… forgot to clip his nails earlier…”

Of course, the constant click-clack kept making Lloyd wince, but luckily, the guards were not really outside tonight. As they reached the top of the stairs, Lloyd noticed one castle guard standing by the great doors ahead, leaning on his pike, his snoring echoing inside his helmet.

Colette must have noticed Lloyd’s look, poking at his shoulder just then. “Lloyd…”

“Huh?” Lloyd started in guilt. “Ah I know… We’re not going to go to the castle… Not tonight at least…”

Colette nodded, her smile bright enough for him to see in the dark. Or it was probably just because his eyes had adjusted by now. It was really only that smile, along with the lower part of her face, that he could see clearly, everything else covered by a dark mask. Although, he could see how the moonlight reflected off her eyes. “Yeah, but we can next time!”

“Hehe, definitely.” Despite the fact that he and Colette were talking in normal-volume conversation, very few people were outside, so it was much easier to be sneaky now anyway. Facing once again into the night, Lloyd adjusted his own mask, keeping it more firmly in place. The night would mute the bright red he had insisted for its shade.

Noishe rushed faster down the street, past rows of what Lloyd could only describe as mansions, with their three-story heights, their marble balconies, their stucco designs and overflowing gardens that decorated what seemed to be a mini-plaza within what seemed to be a high-class cul-de-sac.

The people here were ridiculously wealthy, even more so than the other cities they had visited. It only further strengthened Lloyd’s resolve. He knew he was doing the right thing, even if…

“That’s the one,” Lloyd pointed a gloved hand towards one mansion in particular, more grand (Grander? Was that the right word?) than the rest. It’s salmon-pink walls seemed to gleam within the moonlight. The color was a weird choice, but it wasn’t like Lloyd understood rich people very well. “Er, or is it, Colette?”

“Um…” Colette perused through the map they had brought, finger angling down the paper. “I think so! Just before the end of Regal Street.”

“Alright, let’s go!” He winced again. “Sorry, I keep shouting…” They were supposed to be sneaky!

Lloyd also tried to move extra carefully as his swords strapped to his waist rattled, just a little bit at least. Maybe these swords were usually too big to sneak around with, but they were his trusty set, also having both of them would make him stronger anyway! Holding onto one of the hilts, he tried to tiptoe towards the home, his boots barely making a sound across the pavement.

Colette had less of an issue with her own weapons, her double chakrams strapped behind her back, hidden away so that no gleam could be seen off their surface. Lloyd had his own swords in his scabbards but they still weren’t exactly light…

She was also the first to slide off Noishe’s back but was the last to leave him. Lovingly petting his long ears and shushing his whines, she calmed him down enough to lay near a rosebush, hidden well-away from the lights on the road. “It’s okay, Noishe. We’ll be back.”

But once she rejoined Lloyd, he could see her own determination in her eyes, reflecting his. She was as serious about this as he was, her unbound hair slightly shifting with the breeze. “Ready.”

Lloyd nodded. “Okay.” From his pockets, he pulled out something small but sharp, grinning at Colette with a bit of excitement. “Wanna bet how long this will take me?”

“Hm,” Colette visibly pondered on the question, her face still half-shadowed from the dark. “6 minutes?”

“Way too long! I’ll get this done in 30 seconds flat!”

“Wow, good job, Lloyd! That’s amazing.”

“Congratulate me after I lockpick it first!”

But he was already motivated by Colette’s belief in him, already kneeling in front of the ornate door and looking over its way too fanciful lock. Lloyd ignored its gaudy color, already setting himself to work inserting both pin and pick to fiddle at its mechanisms.

No one could lockpick better than a blacksmith apprentice like himself after all!

“And…got it! Too easy!” Lloyd nearly punched his fist in the air victoriously before realizing that maybe now was not the best time. “Heh, sorry. So how long was that?”

Colette, looking just as excited as he with the released lock, stared off into space for a moment. “Um… oops. I forgot to count while you were doing it!”

Lloyd’s pride suddenly fell flat at that. “Aw, I really wanted to know if I beat my record.”

“Maybe you could try again?”

Lloyd, very much considering the option to lock himself out of the mansion, shook his head. “Nah, just remember for me next time, okay?”

While it was fun to play these games, they had some work to do! Games could wait!

Lloyd carefully pushed open the door, peering inside to find only darkness. He leaned in even more, and promptly bumped his head against what seemed to be coat hanger next to the door. “Ow. Why’s that there?”

But he got ahead of himself, once again quieting his voice to a near whisper as he turned to Colette. “Do you hear anyone?”

It was one of Colette’s many talents; few had as sensitive of hearing as she did and could put it to good use. So when she moved past the doorway, angling her head to detect any stray sound, Lloyd did his best to hold his breath so that she didn’t pick any noises from him instead.

After a moment, she shook her head. “Mm, I think the coast is clear!”

Lloyd could barely contain himself. With a grin, he rushed in (while carefully closing the door and also quieting his swords) to finally get a look at the place they were going to do work in tonight.

…And it was much, much bigger than he had anticipated.

“Wow…” Lloyd whispered, looking around the main lobby with the plush couches, the grand piano off in the corner, and a fancy portrait of a woman hanging off the right corner, as if wanting to be hidden from view. Both him and Colette softly tread across the tiled floors onto plush carpets. Barely a hush to their movements, the air so still. No nighttime servants or guards that hung around, which surprised Lloyd, but he took it as a positive sign.

Still, he couldn’t help but be a little shocked when he kept finding new things every time he turned his head. The fireplace to his left was massive, dwarfing his own back home! And it was made of expensive material too, with etchings in its stonework. This didn’t even compare to when he looked ahead and saw glass doors that led to even more rooms.

“This guy must be loaded!” Lloyd had to say, then once again winced. He really wasn’t good at being quiet… “Though I guess everyone on this street is technically…”

But at least he wasn’t the only one shocked. Colette looked around as well, blue eyes wide beneath her mask. “We might need to make several trips…” she suggested, already heading towards an ornate dresser, its drawer handles seeming to be made of gold. “Since there’s an upstairs too.”

“Agh, that’s gonna be annoying. Let’s just try to get everything we can in one go! Noishe can help carry the rest.”

With that, Lloyd unhooked a satchel he carried at his belt – and proceeded to loot every expensive item in sight!

“I call the living room!” he half-yelled, half-whispered as he rushed towards the left side of the room.

“Ah! No fair…” Colette whined but he could see her already rushing away to another part of the house to do her own job as well.

When it came to stealing, there were no better thieves than he and Colette! But only for high-class places like this, even though this place was probably the fanciest they had hit just yet.

A place like this has to have jewels…. Or vaults full of Gald! Lloyd passed by a table placed in the middle of the room, overflowing with what looked to be wrapped presents. Hm, was it okay for him to look through these? Some of them hadn’t even been opened, and presents felt somewhat different… Wait, why am I worried about that?

Lloyd didn’t find any vaults so far, but there was no lack of Gald in this house regardless. Some of it just seemed to be laying around the furniture, including the plush sofas (which he made sure to check in-between the couch cushions for!) and even some were inside the presents? Not a very creative gift, but at least he could take it easy…

By the time Lloyd decided to pick up some items, he heard Colette from behind him. “I’m all set!”

“Huh? Already?” Lloyd turned to Colette, clutching a few expensive-looking hairbrushes in both hands. The fact that he had found more than one hanging around the living room was already kind of odd. “I don’t get how you do it so fast!”

Colette had her own satchel filled with taken goods. Though he couldn’t see, he could hear the soft clink of porcelain, along with what must have been the clatter of Gald. “Hehe. I’m a pro at item thief, remember?”

“Yeah, that’s-“ Lloyd stopped, narrowing his eyes at Colette, then sighed when he noticed the bruise on her forehead. “Did you trip earlier?”

“Um…”

“Did you trip yourself on purpose?!” Lloyd moved to see if she had any more injuries, hands reaching out and, well, still holding onto the hairbrushes and may or may not have brushed her hair in the process. “Colette, you don’t need to hurt yourself just to pick up stuff!”

“But it’s much faster this way! And I’m more likely to succeed at getting stuff if I use it!”

“I don’t…really get that…” But then again, she was right. He had witnessed that plenty of times! He just wished she didn’t have to hurt herself in the process.

Colette adjusted her bag of stolen goods one more time, but he knew it wasn’t heavy for her at all. Already his back was aching at just looking at the weight of her satchel. “Ready to go, Lloyd?”

Lloyd looked around the room. Nothing much else except some of the presents, and the rest had been filled with spoiled fish. Rich people had weird tastes in gifts. “Yeah, but uh, you think you can take one of these brushes…?”

Lloyd didn’t even get to finish his sentence. He saw Colette’s eyes widen, saw her turn around. He knew what that meant.

“Someone’s here!” she whispered, setting her bag down to retrieve her weapons.

Lloyd finally had the thought to just drop the brushes and reach for his own swords – but not before several objects surrounded them both. They were small, just the size of his palm. They looked like paper cards…?

“Show yourselves!” shouted a voice. Suddenly, a light erupted from those floating cards around them.

“Gah!” Both Lloyd and Colette shielded their faces from the brightness, but it wasn’t enough to hide them away for long.

The voice had come from the stairway railing up above (they hadn’t even gotten to explore the second floor!) and there stood a black-haired woman in strange attire – but she looked on them both as if what they wore was even stranger!

“So… you’re the infamous thieves that’s been targeting all of Tethe’alla!” She held up another of those strange cards between her fingers. “Gotta say, surprised you didn’t get caught sooner with that get-up.”

“Huh?!” Lloyd looked back down at his outfit, not understanding what the problem was. “Hey, red is a good color!” he shouted back.

Indeed it was! Though Lloyd and Colette wore masks over their faces to keep their identities a secret, this red jacket, with its arrays of silver buttons and collar strips that flowed out of his collar, was the most comfortable he had ever worn. And it looked cool too!

…That said, it was pretty awesome that they were famous apparently! With pride, he stood up tall, one hand on his hip while the other held out both his thumb and forefinger, trying out his new pose that he’d been working on. “I mean, what else do you expect the Red Phantom Thief to wear?”

“Phantom?” The woman raised an eyebrow. “Wait, I thought you were the Red Robin.”

His cool pose instantly faltered. “What?! Why do people keep calling me that!?” What part of his cool persona had anything to do with a bird?!

“Look, it doesn’t matter! Both the Red Robin and the Blue Angel’s thieving days are over!”

“Oh, she got my name right though!” Colette waved at the lady, not as worried about hiding herself anymore. Though her outfit only had some accents of blue, the name still fit her well, along with the mask that more or less resembled wings, filigreed with azure in comparison to Lloyd’s crimson one. “It’s nice to meet you!”

“Colette, she’s trying to put us in jail…”

“Ah, I just thought we should still be nice, since she must only be doing her job…”

Sheena stomped on the railing, making it creak. “Stop whispering to each other, you criminals! You’re going to give back what you stole!”

“Oh… but we didn’t technically steal anything yet!” Colette piped in helpfully.

“Don’t admit it!” Lloyd whined.

“Sorry! Unless she means the other things we stole… but we don’t have them anymore…”

“Huh, that’s right… Are we supposed to carry all that stuff around?” Lloyd scratched at his head, thinking hard on the concept. “It’d be too heavy and Noishe wouldn’t be able to carry all that and us too…”

“Why do you guys keep ignoring me?!”

“Uh, sorry about that,” Lloyd said, voice a little subdued.

Colette bowed her head. “I’m sorry too!”

“That’s not- argh!”

With that, the lady clearly had enough. She leapt off the railing, flipping numerous times through the air which made the pink sash of her outfit flow along with her body. Lloyd and Colette watched in awe as she gracefully landed a few feet in front of them, feet just past an elegantly detailed carpet that was behind her. In all her motions, she barely missed a beat.

Colette clapped. “Wow, that was really good!”

Lloyd couldn’t disagree. “Yeah, no kidding! That was cool!”

The lady stumbled slightly, losing her graceful composure, even for just a second. “W-What? You guys are the strangest thieves I’ve come across.” She shook her head, staring hard at them once more. With how quiet she had moved, so quiet that not even Colette had heard her at first, Lloyd wondered if she would make a good thief too… That would be competition!

“The name’s Sheena Fujibayashi. I’ve been tracking you two down for quite some time. Going all over both Sylvarant and Tethe’alla territory. Heard you took a fortune from Palmacosta’s coffers, but you bit off more than you can chew by coming here.” She narrowed her eyes at them, sharp in her gaze. “Your thieving days are about to end.”

That had caught Lloyd off guard. “Huh? You’ve been spying on us? That’s rude!”

“Criminals don’t get a say in that! And it’s not rude!” Sheena scoffed a bit. “It doesn’t take a genius to know you’d try to rob this place out of all of them.”

Lloyd groaned. “But that was our secret plan!”

“I guess it’s not a secret anymore…” Colette said sadly.

“However…” Sheena said carefully. “What I don’t get is how you guys even got past Meltokio’s walls? All the gates are closed. Including the sewer!”

“Sewer?” Lloyd asked, but he was careful to not slip up on his and Colette’s escape route! A thief never revealed his secrets after all! Well, unless she somehow spied on that too… “You’re gonna have keep guessing on that!”

“Oh, I just tripped is all!”

Lloyd nearly fell on his face at Colette’s admission.

Sheena raised an eyebrow. “Tripped? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Nothing! It has to do with nothing!” Lloyd tried to subtly signal to Colette. “We don’t know how we got here at all! Right, Colette?”

“…Oh, right! Hehe, messed up.” She laughed and stuck out her tongue playfully. “We don’t know anything!”

“…Okay…weird…”

Seeing Sheena’s initial confusion, Lloyd saw this as a good opportunity to try and escape. Giving a tiny nod to Colette to catch her attention, he tried to see if they could rush to the door quick enough…

“Not so fast!”

That was when Sheena made a quick motion with her hands – looking almost like a prayer except for the rapid succession of signals she did – and the same cards that hovered around them suddenly glowed red. Lloyd felt a strange weight on his body, as if someone had just dumped luggage right onto his shoulders.

“H-Hey!” he shouted. He tried to turn to Colette, but could barely do it! “Let us go!”

“With my seals, you’re not getting away. I was sent to stop you and that’s just what I’m doing.” Sheena looked a bit smug as she spoke, a smirk on her lips. “So don’t blame your fate on me.”

“I can do exactly that!” But even as Lloyd struggled, he couldn’t seem to break free. Whatever powerful bindings were in these paper cards, they were more than he could handle. Who knew paper could even be considered a threat!!

“And…why do you keep calling us thieves?” he threw out during his struggles. He felt he was loosening his foot a bit! Just a little bit though.

Sheena said nothing at all at first, practically speechless in her shock until she sputtered. “Because… that’s what you are?!”

Colette shook her head politely, from what Lloyd could tell. Actually, she didn’t seem to be as restricted as he was… “But we’re not thieves. We’re heroes for the less fortunate! Right, Lloyd?”

“Yeah!” he said, trying to nod and instead just… stretching a little. Good enough. “We don’t take the money for ourselves, but for those who need it most!”

“…That’s still stealing,” Sheena intoned. “You’re taking stuff from other people to do that. That’s still being a thief.”

“It’s way more than that!” Lloyd argued, never stopping in his struggle. “The Red Robin doesn’t steal for himself… Wait, I meant Red Phantom!” Dammit, now that dumb name was stuck in his head too!

“Even if that was the case, it doesn’t change what you’re doing right now.” Sheena stared at the bags of stolen goods that were on the floor, all gathered from Lloyd and Colette’s wandering hands. “Things like this… they can’t go unpunished. And if you’re stealing from this place, then I definitely have to stop you.”

Lloyd blinked. “Is this your home? Is that why you keep bringing it up?”

“Huh?! Who said anything about that! Don’t be stupid!”

What was up with that reaction? Lloyd only felt more confused now! “Okay, sorry…I was just saying stuff…”

“I see.” Colette’s voice was tranquil, moreso than Lloyd had expected. She really wasn’t worried they were basically trapped right now… “This home is important to you, because it belongs to someone you care about. I’m sorry. If we knew that, we wouldn’t have come here.”

“W-What the heck do you mean? I never said that!” Any smugness Sheena had now completely left her face, now replaced by confusion. “And how would you not coming here if you knew make any sense?!”

“She’s got a point, Colette… We didn’t even know her until now.”

“Oh, that’s right!” In her blue, angel-wing shaped mask, Colette scratched the back of her head, giggling. “But, if we did know each other before, I bet we would have been great friends!”

Sometimes Colette went off-tangent on a conversation so fast, that even Lloyd couldn’t keep up. “Have you been thinking about being friends with her this whole time?”

“Is that weird?”

“Not really, just… maybe not the best time-”

“You two seriously need to stop messing with me! Ugh.” With a groan, Sheena pulled out an array of cards from her sleeve, holding them up to her face as if she had her own deck of aces.

“Hold on! Back up a sec, it’s true what Colette said. We’re giving all the money we take to give to those who need the help.” Lloyd tightened his hold on his swords, bringing the blades close, or as close as he could. “Haven’t you seen this city? People just have all…all this …” He tried, but mainly failed, at gesturing to the display of wealth; to the fancy velvet drapes along the windows, to the tiled marble floors, to all those fancy presents on the table. “Yet they don’t worry or help those who are living in poverty right beneath them!”

Sheena hesitated, even if for only a moment. Did she think the same thing too? She must have known of those slums just within the city, of the multitude of poor villages where so many starved during the harsher seasons…

Lloyd had felt that even in Iselia, always hearing of the far-off city of Meltokio and its vast treasure trove of wealth. But knowing that even here, where some people dined in golden houses, there were others living in the mud. “You have to see that isn’t right at all!”

“Lloyd…” Colette’s soft voice tugged at his chest. He had let his emotions run off again, but it was true what he believed. Every word of it.

“I understand what you mean…” Sheena said – and then her voice grew hard, ruthless. “But that’s not for you to decide. You can’t know every person’s intentions with what they own. You can’t know how the owner here plans to use what he has…” She got into a stance, one that Lloyd had never seen before.

“And a thief is still a thief! But if you want, you can talk all about your grievances with the king.”

He really had no idea what to expect from her, especially from someone who fought with cards. Lloyd tried once again to move, but he felt like he was stuck in quicksand. His feet just stayed rooted to the floor. Aw man, and he thought he had been moving his left foot before! “Stop!” he called out as Sheena moved forward.

And then Colette moved forward too. Wait, she wasn’t trapped?

Sheena was just as shocked as Lloyd was. “H-How did you get out?!”

Colette stood in front of Lloyd, holding out her double chakrams in front of her. She blinked, and it seemed she would join with the others in their confusion. “Ah, was that supposed to happen? I’m sorry. I think your cards must’ve missed me!”

Oh goddess, sometimes Lloyd really couldn’t believe Colette’s luck! (And his own unluckiness when it came to these situations.)

Sheena seemed to be on the same page there. “I missed?! Well… I won’t this time!” Sheena’s cards in her hand began to glow. “You can have a taste of one of my Guardians if you-!”

“Ah, whoops!”

Really, Lloyd should have expected what would happen next.

Colette tried to move to the side as much as she could, while also still covering for Lloyd who stayed frozen in time. Clearly she didn’t want to hurt Sheena at all, but also wanted to protect Lloyd. The brief conflict of indecision made the tip of her boot catch the edge of one of the many plush rugs that covered the first floor of the mansion.

“Watch out!” She tried to warn her enemy (or friend?), but Colette was already tackling right into Sheena who, by the force of the push, practically flew back down to the rug-covered floor.

That was when the rug seemed to pull right into the center where Sheena fell, further and further until-

“How did you know about my back-up trap NOOOOOO!!” But Sheena’s words were replaced by screams as she fell right into a strange makeshift pit that seemed to have been dug right into the mansion’s tiled floors.

“Oh.. I messed up…” Colette said, realizing what she’d done.

By then, the cards hovering around Lloyd drifted down to the floor, releasing him from their invisible binds. Lloyd wobbled on his feet, his previous struggling nearly making him kick out wildly in the air before he regained balance. “Whoa…” He shook his head, never wanting to be put in that weird situation. “Uh, did she just…fall…?” He leaned over to what looked like to be a giant hole in the ground, right in front of him. “And how is this even here?” He had so, so many questions. Maybe he wasn’t as unlucky as some people…

Colette was kneeling on the edge of the floor, her face so full of worry, clearly seen even through her mask. “Is she okay? I didn’t mean to do that at all…”

Lloyd shook out the previous stiffness from his limbs, sheathing his swords before walking towards Colette, kneeling with her. “Well, I mean she was going to arrest us. And she was going to fight you too!”

Colette pouted, hands clasped before her, still staring into that dark pit that seemed to have no bottom. But really, how did they even make a pit inside this mansion in the first place?! Maybe it was another rich people thing…

As she kept staring down, Lloyd gently placed his hand on her shoulder, getting her attention. “Lloyd, should we call for help?”

He sighed. “That’s…going to be kinda hard with what we were doing.”

Colette, lover of puppies and doggies, was able to pull off the look of the animal she so adored. Lloyd could barely resist that gaze.

“Agh, alright, alright! Maybe we can leave a note for the guards nearby or-”

“Hunnyyyy~!” called a voice from upstairs, freezing Lloyd’s words right in his throat, as if he had just been imprisoned again. “You there? What’s all the noise about?” The voice yawned in mid-sentence, its tone so casual and airy.

Lloyd stood up quickly, grabbing Colette’s arms to bring her up with him. “See? Help is on the way! Now let’s get out of here!”

“Ah, if you’re sure-” but Colette barely got to finish her sentence before footsteps echoed from above. Both of them grabbing their satchels of stolen goods (Lloyd with one, Colette with about five), they rushed through the door, as stealthily as they could!

…Until Colette dropped a few expensive plates from her satchel onto the floor. “Ah!” Crash crash kerplow!

The casual voice from upstairs shifted gears then. “What the hell-”

“Colette, leave those!” Lloyd grabbed Colette by her free… er, overcoat flaps on her back, since both her hands were a bit occupied carrying things. They made it out to the doorsteps, the night sky still dark. “We just gotta find Noishe and-”

…And their dog was nowhere to be found in the bushes they had left him in.

Lloyd sighed even more this time, the action pulling out his very soul from the pit of his stomach. “He ran away again!”

Colette’s tone held a bit of a reprimand in it, rare as it was. “You know he gets scared by himself, Lloyd.”

“But he whines too loudly to bring him inside houses!” Another sigh, but smaller this time. He adjusted the satchel easier on his shoulder. “Guess we’re hoofin it.”

“Okay,” Colette nodded. She piled on her bags onto her shoulders as if they were just a bunch of stuffed animals she carried around. “Where to first?”

Lloyd shot her a grin. “To where we can make all this flashy stuff finally useful.”

And like two thieves in the night – which they were not! – both Lloyd and Colette rushed off, past sleeping guards that never knew what happened.

Zelos had only just heard the commotion a little bit ago. Usually, he was a bit of a night-owl, but not this time when he had to just wait instead of having any fun…

So he might have slept through his time, for a little while, and he might have an angry Sheena on his hands because of that… But it couldn’t have gone that bad, right?

That was answered for him when he finally leaned over the banister and saw the giant, carved-up hole in the middle of his downstairs floor. “Uh,” he uttered, trying to remember if this had been part of the plan Sheena had detailed to him earlier. “Hunny?”

A brief pause before the voice of what sounded like a haunted spirit floated up from that pit. “Where the hell have you been?”

Zelos grinned, quickly leaping over the banister to land expertly on his slippers. (He forgot to put on his shoes). He was just a few feet away from the hole. “Catching up on my beauty sleep, what else?”

“You were supposed to stand by and back me up! You idiot! I-” But the ghostly voice was interrupted by a strangled screech. Zelos straightened up immediately, the hint of any smiles completely erased from his face.

He reached down, grabbing Sheena’s hand before she fell, fingers gripping tightly over his wrist. He had seen her hanging onto an outcropping in whatever pit she had made before she lost her hold. With sudden adrenaline, Zelos pulled her out, kneeling beside her as she finally made it to safe ground.

Sheena panted, one hand pressed against the floor while the other stayed locked with Zelos’. After a moment, she raised her head, staring hard at him.

The saucy grin came back to him so easily. “Thought you said you wouldn’t fall for me,” he teased.

She ripped her hand from his grip to curl it into a fist and give him a deserved smack against his shoulder. “Are you serious?!”

“Ow! Well if you’re going to be rough with me…”

“You call that rough?” Sheena got to her feet, face completely red, and already Zelos could tell she was stuck in several shades of embarrassment now. “You don’t even ask me how it went! ”

Zelos shrugged, knowing that would only anger Sheena further, knowing that would only make her feel like she failed even when she hadn’t at all. But it was the best action he had right now. The downstairs also looked a bit… empty, for lack of a better word. Certain knick-knacks seemed to be missing from their shelves, and he might have been missing a few presents actually?

“What’s there to know?” he asked, also standing up, face as serene as water. Most nobles of Meltokio were generally laid back, but Zelos had such a relaxed nature at times that he knew others found unsettling.

With Sheena though, she just got more annoyed. “Do you even care?! Months of tracking them down and planning and this is what happens… We could have avoided this if you were actually nearby like I said to be!”

Zelos held up his hands to her. “Whoa, whoa! Calm down, babe. It’s not the end of the world! I mean… maybe the pit wasn’t the best idea, just throwing that out there.”

“You think I don’t know that?!” Sheena ran her hands through her hair, groaning and looking ready to fall right back into that pit. “Of all the times I had to trip!”

When she yelled, he knew it was mostly aimed at herself then at him, most of the time anyway. So he didn’t take it to heart, watching the words prick herself. “But you still got them tracked, don’t you?”

Sheena let down her hands and sighed. “Yeah… Corrine is still following them. They don’t sense him at least.”

“See now? Gotta keep things on the bright side!” Zelos deftly walked around the pit, eyeing again the empty tables. Most of the stuff was replaceable anyway, though his eyes strayed to a certain painting hidden away in a corner. Interesting. Maybe they didn’t think it was valuable enough to take? Or maybe it was just too big to carry? Zelos wasn’t sure how to feel on that at least.

“Besides,” he said, turning back to Sheena with a flourish. “Not like we were actually going to arrest them anyway.”

Sheena frowned, but she didn’t deny it. Instead, she only looked more and more frustrated, her right eyebrow twitching. “I know that. But they didn’t.” Sheena paused, also noting the stolen items, leaving the lower floor of the mansion nearly barebones except for the furniture. “I still don’t understand.”

“Understand what?” Zelos asked, purposefully acting the fool and knowing that she knew.

“What you’re aiming for. We had orders from the Pope… You’re really sure he won’t find out?”

“Hey, if I was sure of anything, I probably wouldn’t even be here.” He winked at her. “But that’s why you wanted to be part of my master plan, right? Gets you excited.”

“I’m excited to kick you right in the kneecaps if that’s what you’re aiming for.”

Zelos laughed, the sound echoing even more harshly in the open room without all the clutter in the way. “See? You have so much energy!”

“I’m only going along with this because I don’t trust the Pope… Even less than I trust you.” Sheena scuffed the bottom of her heels against the floor, truly getting the ‘disgruntled bodyguard to a carefree playboy’ right down to the details. “But we’re going to have keep tracking them so you can finally get to have that talk you want.”

“Perfect! Then we just need a do-over, how hard is that?”

Sheena rolled her eyes. “But now they’re onto us. And why would they talk to us now when they think we’re enemies?”

“Trust me, we can’t have it any other way.”

He knew Sheena was trying so hard to make sense of his logic. “And this is why I still can’t understand you.”

“Then it’s all going according to plan then.”

And Zelos was ready to get his plan into action, but there was, maybe, just one tiny hurdle they had to deal with right now.

“Seriously though, how did you even manage to dig a hole in my floor?” And also, was she covering this? But he didn’t ask that.

“I have my ways of doing things, and you have yours,” she said in a huff. “It’s not even that deep of a hole…”

“…You certainly made it sound like it was.”

“I was just flustered, alright?!” She groaned. “This hole was supposed to be a backup plan… These guys must have known somehow! That’s why they tripped me…”

Zelos nodded, but if truth to be told, he only half-believed her. Sheena was so clumsy, but only at the worst times. Life was tough on the girl.

“Okay, but uh, we’ll need to have this fixed pronto. Don’t want ol’ Sebastian to fall in while he takes care of the place while I’m away.”

Sheena swerved on him immediately. Yes, he could already tell what his plan was. And why she didn’t like this at all. “No, you don’t mean…”

With an ecstatic smile, Zelos wrapped Sheena up in his arms, scooping her off her feet. “That’s right! I’m coming along to chase them down right with ya, hunny~!”

Honestly, even with the bone-crunching punch he received just after, it was worth it.

Sometimes you need to sacrifice a little comfort to go and help change the world, after all.

There was something about the Meltokio slums that reminded Lloyd of home, even as he and Colette’s boots would get stuck to the muck of the roads occasionally, or when they’d nearly slipped down the stone steps because it was damaged, city never sending in workers for repairs. (Okay, it was Colette who had slipped, and Lloyd had to quickly catch her, along with the numerous satchels she carried).

The air was quiet as any other part of the city, but the atmosphere of it was on edge, a bit frenzied. Lloyd saw a few eyes peek through the slats of a much too small window. The roof was caved-in, the boards rotted from mildew and infestation most likely.

Once they made it down one road, where it was too squared in by the buildings on either side, the mud building up even more around here – Lloyd signaled for Colette to stop.

“This is as good a place as any,” he said, putting down his own satchel to the muddy ground. Some of it splashed on his cool red jacket. He sighed, but now was not the time to be worried about that stuff.

Colette nodded, putting down her own multiple bags with barely any trouble. “You still think it’s not enough?”

Lloyd looked through the opening of his bag, took a moment, and shrugged. “Maybe for a little bit… I need to step up my own game to catch up to you.”

“It’s okay, Lloyd! I was following your lead the whole time.” Her mask reflected the moonlight, shining both azure and pink. It almost looked like she was ready to go to a fancy costume party with it on – and he wondered if he seemed the same way.

He cleared his throat, opened the bag more, then called out to one of the raggedly-dressed children he could see hiding behind the corner of a building. “Hey! Can you get everyone to come here?”

The child was speechless at first, looking ready to flee. But then they stopped, moving a bit into the light when they saw just who the pair was. “Who… Wait, you’re the Red Phantom?” A turn of their head, gazing at Colette. “And the Blue Angel!”

Ha! They got my name right! Just one other reason why the ruling rich class was no good if they couldn’t even remember the right titles.

Lloyd stood with a flourish, hand up in his signature gesture, with thumb out and pointer finger aligned towards the sky. He flashed a grin at the child. “That’s right! We came here to help.” And with that, he reached into the bag, pulling out what looked like a fistful of pure light to the child.

The child’s eyes widened, more pronounced on their weathered, somewhat pale face. Perhaps from so many nights of hunger and cold temperatures. It only hardened Lloyd’s resolve.

“I’ve… never seen so much Gald!” they breathed. Lloyd could barely tell their face in the dark, but the wonder in their eyes was all too recognizable, too familiar. There was sudden life in the face, compared to before. “Who is that for?”

He didn’t make a show of it this time. Lloyd said it seriously, remembering what he was here for.

“They’re for everyone in the slums. So you don’t go hungry.”

The child gawked at Lloyd, then back the precious coins he held in his hand. “But…this is too much. And the shops are closed anyway…”

Colette piped in, kneeling beside the child. “There should be a few open tonight! Especially the one nearby the inn. Do you know that one?”

One could almost hear a stomach grumble in the night at the mention of food. “The place with the Wonderchef?! We could eat there…?”

Lloyd nodded, carefully taking the child’s hand and giving him the money. “Show your family this if they’re doubting. But we should have enough for everyone in the slums.”

Maybe it was the way the kid’s eyes welled up at that moment, or maybe when he saw more and more people start to gather later, getting up from their beds to see if the rumors of charitable not-thieves were true – but Lloyd felt every burden lift up from his heart as he and Colette gave all that they could sell, all that they could gather.

And all while the rich up top continued to slumber away the night.

They didn’t stay long, as some residents would say later that the masked duo whisked away into the shadows the moment they dropped the very last Gald into an outstretched hand. Lloyd and Colette didn’t give any more words or speeches, this time moving just as silently as they did when they had been up on the higher levels.

… No one would notice them both now in the quieter part of the great city, both seating themselves on one of the many marble arches, watching the sky with its familiar patterns.

“It’s amazing we could sell what we could on the same night thanks to Professor Sage,” Colette commented, her voice a little winded from moving so much tonight. But there was something proud in her tone too, something that Lloyd could relate to right now.

It really was surprising just how much Raine knew of a few connections, like certain dealers that could take a few treasures and exchange them for Gald. Lloyd and Colette couldn’t always estimate just how valuable their goods were, so it was helpful their old teacher knew just how much…

“As long as we get her those relics while we’re out doing this, huh?” Lloyd said aloud, inwardly groaning at the idea of going to another stuffy ruin next. “Maybe we should just look for lost treasure in those places ourselves and sell them. Last time she got so scary when we gave her stuff, I thought she was going to steal us next!”

“Oh, that doesn’t sound too bad.” Colette winked. “We’d never be late to classes!”

“Colette, this is like my worst nightmare, please.”

Even a small tease felt too real, even as he couldn’t stop grinning from what they had accomplished tonight. Lloyd leaned back on his hands, looking up at the sky. It stretched out, so long and dark, its wide array of stars taking over everything.

Still, he had to wonder.

“Colette… do you think what we’re doing is right?”

Colette moved to seat herself closer to him (or tripped, he couldn’t really tell), her expression thoughtful. “I’ve always believed in what you were doing, Lloyd… That you wanted to help people. And you are!”

“I know, I guess somehow.” The little nagging voice in his head kept repeating itself – and it sounded exactly like that strange lady they had met at the mansion before she fell into her own pit. “But maybe there is a better way to do it. And I know dad wasn’t a big fan of the idea of us doing all this either.” With that, he puffed out his chest, clenched both fists, and did the best impression of his dwarven father that he knew how. “Dwarven vow number eleven! Lying is the first step down the path to thievery! Also, eat your tomatoes, lad!”

“Wow, you sounded exactly like him, Lloyd!”

“Heh, thanks. I’ve been practicing a lot.” The trick was getting the gentle raspiness of his father’s voice just right! No easy feat.

But even that brief little ego boost couldn’t last, remembering the meaning of what he just said. “I guess I haven’t exactly been following those vows. Although… I didn’t really lie! Er, that much, I mean.”

“Hm.” Colette tapped a finger against her chin, thinking on his statement so much, and so seriously, that it was kinda worrying Lloyd a bit?

“Hey, you don’t have to think about it that much…”

“Oh! But I just wanted to find a way to help you.”

“Yeah, but now I’m thinking I definitely did something wrong here if it’s got you worried.”

She shook her head. They were both no longer wearing their masks now after their delivery to the poor of Meltokio, and now Lloyd could see the fullness of her eyes. It was a blue of a lighter shade, like a water’s surface during a sunrise. When she wore her mask, he couldn’t see that as much. Maybe they didn’t need to wear their masks all the time…

“I’m not really worried,” she was saying, her breath held rhythmically. She was choosing carefully what she would say next. “It’s just… In this world, there’s not much we can do otherwise, you know? So many people are suffering, and yet, those who have the power to change it, they just… don’t do it. Or they don’t care to. We can’t rely on them.”

From Colette’s words, Lloyd heard his own thoughts echo back. Some people, like his dad, could depend on himself, from building his own home to even taking in a human child that he barely knew. But not everyone could do that, he knew.

“There’s another vow your dad says all the time.”

“Huh? Oh, you mean…” He sighed, but the smile on his face was full of gratitude. “Never abandon someone in need.”

“Yep. And, I think we’ve been doing that the best that we can.” She grinned, a lock of her hair falling across her cheek. “Even if we’re using money from those higher up to do so!”

“Not like that money is being used for anything else! All that Gald was literally just sitting there!”

“Yeah! Though I guess we don’t know if they were going to use it on something good… Maybe they were going to donate that same money!”

“What?! Aw man, now you’re making me question it, Colette!”

But she simply laughed, the sound traveling through his chest and somehow making his heart feel a little less heavy. He smiled, laughing with her.

“Fine, let’s just say we did it faster for them,” Lloyd reasoned. “So now that family can eat tonight.”

“Yeah. Maybe…someday we can do it differently. But I like doing it your way!”

“Honestly, this wouldn’t have turned out so well without that item thief move of yours. I can lockpick but that’s kind of it…”

“And you’re the best at it! You beat your whole record by ten seconds!”

“Hey, I thought you didn’t count it last time!”

“Hm… maybe I just wanted to tease you.”

“Mean, Colette!”

But their continued laughter finally brought back someone familiar; the soft padding of feet along the pavement below them, with a whine that echoed throughout the night. Lloyd wouldn’t even chide Noishe this time, his mood lightening up much more than since when they left that mansion.

“Come on, boy,” he called out gently, and Noishe loped forward, putting his great head against Lloyd’s outstretched hands. A few scratches here and there and the dog’s fluffy tail began wagging, even as his whines continued. “It’s okay. Just bring us home, alright?”

“Will Dirk be awake now?” Colette asked, also patting Noishe along his back, fingers digging through the green fur. Colette would never pass up an opportunity to pet the whining animal.

“Probably… Let’s just sneak inside, we’re good at that! Uh, maybe we are.”

Colette already climbed atop Noishe’s back, the action as natural to her as tripping. “We can get him something from here, like a souvenir!”

Lloyd climbed on too, giving one last scratch behind Noishe’s left ear. “It’ll have to be something we bought and not stole, and I forgot to buy things… I’ll just make him something on the way!”

Meltokio’s walls were high, but there were many hidden cracks in their foundations. Some brought on by the ravages of time, some from disrepair or a lack of maintenance…

… and then some made from a person plainly tripping into a wall. Already as Noishe was rushing along the city, they saw it – that tell-tale Colette-shaped hole, from when she had tripped across an upturned grass tuft and tumbled right into stone like it was nothing.

At the sight, he could hear Colette make a sound full of embarrassment. “I hope I didn’t ruin this wall…”

“No way, it’s fine! Besides, this turned out for the best!” Lloyd would have to squeeze through it himself, as the hole wasn’t exactly his height, but even in Colette’s tumble, she had made sure to make her accident luckier than most.

And just as they finally made it out of the city, and were once again on open plains, with the stars so much brighter without the constant lights from below, so much wider that one could see the silhouette of the Fooji Mountains up ahead, Lloyd turned to Colette.

“Thanks, Colette.”

He knew the words had caught her off guard. Without her mask on, the flush on her cheeks was so much more obvious. Her eyes were bright from the two moons overhead. “Ah, for what?”

“For reminding me of what we’re really doing. I started questioning everything but, I know that we’re doing good. Especially having you with me.”

And maybe, it was kind of cute, her blush, and the way she looked at him just now. “I really do help you, Lloyd?”

“Yeah, of course! I’d have gotten caught on my first job if you weren’t there to tell me that people were still inside that one house.”

“Ah, right. You were just about to barge right in there!”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time!”

Colette’s hands reached out to grasp Lloyd by the shoulders, balancing herself as Noishe walked. She did this all the time, but it felt different now, like the sky overhead, and the air so brisk against their skin. “But… thank you too, Lloyd. You gave me a way to help people.”

He grinned. “Then let’s keep doing it then.”

And they would, on another night, at another place. But for now, they let Noishe lead them on, past the mountains and for the trees far off in the horizon. Her hands on his shoulders kept him steady until the morning came.

...Yet in all that time, neither noticed the little shadow that trailed after them, its normally colorful fur of azure and orange now muted within the shadows it hid inside.

Sheena is counting on me, thought Corrine, his soft pads making no sound at all as he leapt after the thieves and their dog. It may have been fast, but Corrine could catch up, sensing them from way further behind.

Still, he followed, a small ringing in the dark.

#tales of symphonia #lloyd irving #colette brunel #sheena fujibayashi #zelos wilder #fanfiction

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luvknow · 4 years

Text

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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