#assistant x boss au

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Here’s another AU.

A classic.

Assistant x Boss but not a cliché one.

Not a cliché on huh?

What if Adam is from another country and his work visa is about to expire and the only way to stay is get married to a citizen?

[charliemwrites]

(Re)organized Crime, Part 8!

I was going to wait a little longer to post this (I say, looking guiltily at the queue) but I felt bad leaving it on a cliff hanger!

Content: Attempted Breaking and Entering, Fear for Safety, Hurt/Comfort

Four months ago, Simon drove you home for the first time.

It was a bad week all around. On Monday, Soap broke his arm. Gaz left with Farah and Alex on Tuesday for a business trip on the other side of the country. Wednesday brought about two dozen emails from Philip Graves’ wretched assistant, ugly pastel green borders framing each one. By Thursday, you almost weren’t surprised by the call about a lost shipment.

You were surprised when Price raised his voice at you, though.

“The fuck do you mean it’s missing?” he snarled.

You stood across from him with your tablet in hand, grossly unorganized logs open onscreen.

“I don’t think there are other ways I could mean it,” you answered lightly. “The crates left port and didn’t show up at the next one.”

You were scribbling on the screen, compiling the log into something more comprehensive. Purposefully not making eye contact because you could feel the angry heat radiating off him. It was making your hands tremble, but you’d be damned if you let it show.

“Well then where the fuck are they?” he demanded.

“If I knew that, sir, they wouldn’t be missing.”

“Are you taking the fucking piss?”

At that, you let out a heavy breath and looked up, expression flat. Price’s expression was dark, mouth tight. One hand gripped the arm of his office chair while the index finger of the other tap, tap, tapped his desk. You stared him down for a moment, reminding yourself to breathe with each uneven beat of your heart. Waited through a count of 20 before he huffed.

“Just find the damn thing,” he growled.

“Shall I use my crystal ball?”

You nearly jumped a mile when he barked your name in reprimand. And that was about the time you had enough.

“John.”

He froze. Across the room, so did Simon and Soap. You were so shocked by your own outburst that you came up a bit short as well. Didn’t even have a chance to gather more words when Price’s shoulders dropped. The anger melted away, replaced with apology and self-deprecation.

“Christ, luv, I’m sorry. Where have my manners gone?”

He ran a hand down his face, pinched the bridge of his nose where you were sure a headache was brewing.

“Thank you for the apology. I know this is important,” you soothed, softening your voice. “Give me 30 minutes and I’ll have a list of people you should yell at.”

He grimaced, “Take 45 for the trouble, darling.”

You used the extra fifteen minutes to brew him a fresh cup of tea and served it with a couple pain meds. When you’d delivered the analysis, he told you to head home early, that it would be a late night regardless and there was no need for you to do more than you already had. (It hadn’t helped the way that he’d ducked his head, still sheepish. You’d squeezed his wrist as you’d dropped off a list of damned names.)

With your usual drivers gone, Soap’s arm broken, and Price out to rip several people a new one, Simon drove you home.

He scowled in the vestibule while you fumbled for your keys. Then glared at the entryway as you trudged to the elevator. He grumbled as he accepted the invitation into your apartment, only to sneer (yes, you knew he was sneering even with the mask) at the doorknob and deadbolt.

“This place is a bloody deathtrap,” he finally declared, crossing his arms.

“It’s not that bad,” you replied, shaking your head.

“One solid kick and this door is coming down.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Then don’t kick it.”

“I’m sure a robber will be polite enough to knock,” he scoffed.

“The crime rate is good in this area,” you argued. Not great, but decent enough…

“Bloody hell. Did you even – are your fucking windows unlocked?”

You blinked. “We’re on the third floor, Simon.”

“I don’t give a rats arse—”

“And stop swearing at me.”

“—that you’re on the third floor. Lock your windows.”

You rolled your eyes but faltered when he narrowed his eyes, looming in the doorway like a fussy boogeyman. A clear indication that he did not plan to leave until you complied.

“You can’t be serious!” You were not whining.

“As the fu— as the damn plague.”

You snorted. “I think ‘damn’ is still swearing.”

He didn’t deign to respond to that, just arched his eyebrows. You mirror him right back, preparing to make a snippy comment about wasting company time.

“I’m sure Price would agree,” he said as you opened your mouth. You shut it with a snap.

Smug bastard.

You groaned but made a show of padding to all the windows and clicking the latches shut. Even when into the bedroom to secure those too. When you were done, he grunted in satisfaction and turned for the door.

��Lock this too.”

“I will, I will, I’m not dumb.”

You scrunched your nose at the skeptical grunt you received that time.

Before leaving, he pointed at you again, eyes narrowed. “Lock. Them. All.”

“They are!”

“From now on.”

“Yes, Simon.”

If you survive this episode of Dateline you’ve found yourself in, you owe him a scone and those nice cigarettes he pretends he doesn’t smoke.

“Open th’ fuckin’ door, Bunny!”

Your fingers twitch around the hilt of the knife. It’s not a big one, but it is serrated. That’s not going in or out without some serious damage. If not the fatal kind, at least the messy kind. Brandon’s not doing anything to you without leaving a crime scene investigator’s wet dream behind.

“Bunnyyyyyyyy!”

The banging starts again, nearly as fast as your heart. You could swear it gets louder every time. Maybe it’s just getting closer, layers of wood chipping away, closing the already too-small distance between you.

You glance desperately at your phone, but the screen remains damningly dark. Price promised he’d be here soon, but it feels like hours since you hung up to preserve what little battery life you had left. Your stomach churns as the pounding turns to thicker, harder thumps. Throwing his body into the door again, trying to force entry. Simon’s mutterings about kicking the door echo in your head.

You should have listened.

“Bun—fuck!”

You jolt as something slams into the door, nearly taking it (and the entry table you braced against it) down. There’s scuffling and scraping, muffled shouting, rapid footsteps— then silence. You hold your breath, every muscle in your body wound tight enough to snap.

“It’s alright now.”

You lurch from your protective crouch in the hallway, shove clumsily at the table. The mangled front door swings in crooked on one hinge, cracked and splintered from top to bottom.

And John is there on the other side.

You’re not sure if he reaches for you or if you throw yourself into his arms. All that matters is that he’s clutching you tight to his broad chest, tucking your head beneath his chin. Safe, protected. Your head spins as you lean into him, knowing that he’ll support you. His heart is beating hard against your cheek.

“John,” you breathe, now that fear isn’t squeezing your lungs in a vice.

“I’m here, luv,” he murmurs into your hair.

You’re shaking. Adrenaline seeps from your bones, takes all their heat and steel with it. You’re left cold and feeble in the aftermath, fingertips numb as they curl tight into his shirt. You don’t know where the knife is; you don’t care. You don’t need it now.

“H-He… He…” you start.

John shushes you, squeezes a bit tighter in reassurance. He knows; you don’t need to tell him, don’t have to remind yourself of what could have happened.

“Where…?” you try instead, but words are so hard. All the trembling must have knocked your voice loose, lost somewhere in the pit of your stomach.

“Soap and Gaz are taking care of it,” John says.

The last of the tension drains away. Your boys will scare Brandon off, maybe enough that he won’t ever bother you again. (The thought alone makes your eyes burn.) John is here now, and – when you peek out from around his bicep – so is Simon.

“You were right,” you mumble, “a-about the door.”

Simon winces. “I’m sorry that I was.”

Somehow, that’s what finally bursts the bubble of your restraint. You sob. It’s loud and sniffly and ugly. In the back of your mind, the part that can never just let you rest, you’re mortified to be doing this in front of your coworker. And on your boss’s nice shirt too. You have an image to maintain—

Except John’s broad hand is rubbing soothing circles into your lower back. He’s gathering you even closer, letting you shelter in his warmth and strength. Easing you through hiccups with quiet murmurs, telling you he’s proud and that you did so well to call him.

Through tears, you see Simon reach out. Scarred knuckles run gently down your wet cheek.

“We take care of our own, little miss.”

You warble out a broken little “Simoooon” that seems to break the solemn atmosphere, John sighing against your temple and Simon’s shoulders slumping in what might be fondness.

It’s not long before Soap and Gaz return, looking no worse for wear, thankfully. (Not that you think they can’t handle themselves – but Brandon was drunk and who knows if he had a weapon or not. Accidents happen.)

“Aw, lass,” Soap coos when he sees you. Calmer now, but still sniffling and wiping at stray tears. “He’s gone now. Won’ be botherin’ you again.”

You blink at the fresh blood on his knuckles and don’t ask. You believe him.

“Thank you.”

“Nothin’ to thank us for, doll. Should have taken care of ‘im earlier,” Gaz replies.

“Earlier?” John asks. He’s trying for your sake, you can tell, but you know him too well to miss the sharp note in his voice.

“Hadn’t had a chance to debrief, sir,” Gaz explains regretfully.

You untuck your face from John’s chest to be better heard, clearing your throat. “Still, for all four of you to come here…”

“What else would we do, sit with our thumbs up our bums?” Soap teases.

“That’ll do,” Simon snips, but you giggle anyway.

It doesn’t take much to convince you to leave your apartment – it takes a bit more to convince you to go to John’s. Unfortunately, you’re outnumbered, and while that normally wouldn’t be a problem, you’re not in a headspace to be stubborn, argumentative, or superficially brave.

All the boys have bachelor pads ill-suited to guests, especially on short notice. Maybe on some other night, under different circumstances, you would have insisted on a hotel.

But the idea of being alone in an unfamiliar place makes your skin crawl. You don’t want to be alone. You want to be near John.

“We take care of our own,” Simon said – so you let them.

Gaz, Soap, and Simon help to pack you an overnight bag, scattering to different corners of your apartment to collect items. In the meantime, you keep clinging to John because he keeps letting you. Exhaustion creeps at the edges of your mind, doubling gravity on your slumping shoulders.

“Did I interrupt something important?” you ask finally, voice hoarse.

“No, luv. Just a card game with some old friends. Soap was losing anyway.”

You sigh, relieved. At least you don’t have the loss of some important business deal weighing on your conscience.

“Poker again?”

“Kid can’t keep a straight face for the life of him.”

You hide your smile against his shoulder and appreciate the chuckle you feel more than hear in his chest.

Simon takes the lead out of the building while Gaz and Soap bring up the rear. You’re a bit self-conscious of any neighbors seeing you in this state, but thankfully none make an appearance. It’s too late in the evening for anyone to be coming in or leaving, and if there were any witnesses to Brandon’s bullshit, you never saw (or heard) them.

(“The hell is their problem, actin’ like they didnae hear that bawbag?” Soap grumbles. “Bystander effect,” you answer, shrugging. He grimaces in understanding, but still looks pissed.)

The car is warm when John bundles you into the back seat. Soap takes the wheel, Simon the passenger side. Gaz sits on your other side and leans his knee gently into yours.

“It’s over now, doll, you can rest. We won’t let anythin’ happen t’you,” he promises.

You smile wearily, lean in to drop a grateful kiss on his cheek.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you four,” you sigh as you snuggle into John’s side again.

“Don’t need to,” Simon answers gruffly, “we’re not goin’ anywhere.”

John hums in agreement, low and pleasant by your ear.

“You always take such good care of us,” he murmurs. Quiet, just for the two of you. “Let us return the favor for once, won’t you, darling?”

You want to resist. You should. You drop your head to his shoulder and sigh, “Okay.”

Between the gentle motion of the car and the pattering of a fresh rainstorm, you don’t stay awake for long. You nod off within four blocks of your apartment, peacefully unaware of the dazed and bloody body in the trunk.

First | Previous | TBC...

Masterlist

[nelkcats]

Hood assistant

Next

Contrary to popular belief, Red Hood wasn't actually a bad boss, Danny could attest to that. After all, thanks to a guy named Bill, he had gotten a job with the Crime Lord, and although he initially feared being assigned to kill or do "shady" activities, his boss actually reassigned him to his assistant.

So yes, Danny now worked directly under Hood's personal assistant, a very attractive man by the name of Jason, but the other goons warned him that it was very likely that he was dating Hood, with the amount of time they spent together so he didn't have to much hope with his crush.

In summary: Danny fell in love with Jason, but he thinks that Jason is dating Red Hood because of comments from the goons and he doesn't want to be "the third wheel" or for Jason to cheat on the crime lord with him, on the other hand Red Hood started flirting with him too and it's getting incredibly frustrating how unfaithful this couple is.

Meanwhile, Jason just wishes the guy would understand his signals, maybe the flowers aren't enough, he doesn't realize he's sending signals like Red Hood too.

[anakinsgirlfriendreal]

Parts Of The Truth

Masterlist

Chapter One

Warnings: Cheating, mentions of sex, my rusty, bad writing.

Pair: Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Everyone swears they'd never be involved with a married man,at least you swore, you swore; "I'd never be a mistress,I could never do that to someone else" of course this was before you met him. Tall, charming, intelligent, not to mention smooth, all words that can be used to describe, Anakin Skywalker. It started a year after you began working at Skywalker Industries, at first you were just his assistant, getting coffee, arranging meetings, occasionally lying to his wife that he was in a meeting when in reality he just wasn't in the mood to see her.

Eventually, he'd started flirting, which you tried to resist, he hadn't made it easy. "You're beautiful" he'd say.

"You're married"

"gah, and if I weren't"

And so it went on, for months you were strong, until you weren't.

It was supposed to be dinner, celebratory. He had just closed a deal and he said it would break his heart and shatter his soul if his favourite employee didn't come out with him. For the sole purpose of entertainment, you accepted. Dinner turned into drinks, drinks turned into laughter and brazen confessions and then he offered to walk you home.

"Dangerous neighborhood, I'm just trying to look out for you" he said, flashing that million dollar smile, you'd never say no to.

Like the true gentleman he was, he walked you to your apartment. "You know, you really didn't have to"

"No, I wanted to. It's late, no way I'd let you walk alone, not in the Bronx" he says. You laugh.

"Whatever." You look up at him, realizing how close he is, his breath on your face, your heart speeding up in your chest, your breath becoming heavier as the space between you got smaller.

"You're so beautiful" he pushes a stray hair behind your ear. You open our mouth to speak, your voice is a hushed whisper.

"You're married"

"I don't care" he kisses you, you kiss him back. Hastily you open the door, both stumbling into your apartment.

"We shouldn't do this" your voice is a heated whisper, as you undo the buckle of his belt, he presses against you, your black dress pushed up your thighs, legs opened as you perched on entrance table inside of your apartment. His mouth on your neck, sucking and biting, just how you like it, "you're married"

"she'll be fine" he voices, his big hands tracing along your thighs, up your hips, under your dress, you cry out for him, our actions contradicting your words, until you just give in "please I need you" that was all you had to say.

That was how you ended up here, watching him tuck your two year old daughter into bed as she begged for him to stay over.

Please please be nice, as I said, I haven't written in years and this was my first in so long, it'll get better I swear lmaooo

[genderflu1dwh0r]

ChanDean Boss x Assistant au

JD is definitely a "stop doing something and wait to see who complains, and if no one complains then he doesn't do it" type guy at his job. He's a bit lazy and if he doesn't want to do something, he stops and waits for someone to notice. Heather usually is the one to notice and makes him do extra things. Jason whines the whole time.

[thesugarclubs-blog]

Pretty Please - King Valkyrie x F!OC

warnings: after math of Love and Thunder, king x assistant, soft!dom King Valkyrie, FxF smut, 18+

word count: 10.7k

WP: https://www.wattpad.com/1326038960-pretty-please-myra

Masterlist

Myra stood outside the tall blue building and sucked in a deep breath. It was one of the few places left unscathed after that night the shadows came and took the children. After patching up the hole in the wooden roof, it was used to create a safe shelter for the city while they continued to rebuild. It was good to see their citizens working together this way, helping each other and building up not just the physical city but their bond as a community. It made her heart warm just thinking about it. 

The moment however was fleeting and replaced with utter chaos as she stepped through the white wooden double doors and into the town hall. Plastic chairs stood in lines of 6 across the hardwood floor and lined three of the four walls, each one filled by a citizen just waiting for a moment to speak with their King.

Smoothing out her dark grey pencil skirt, and fixing the straps of her teal-blue flowy tank top, Myra made her way through the crowd, her black heels clicking on the floor as she squeezed around everyone. She hugged a stack of files close to her chest and balanced a mug of hot coffee in her other hand, reaching for the brass door handle and entering the King’s office. 

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, your majesty, but -” her words were cut short by a smirk and a tilt of her King's head. 

Letting out a breathy chuckle, Valkyrie swiped her tongue across her bottom lip as she shooed out the government official that sat in front of her. 

“How many times, Myra?” she questioned, leaning forward on her desk and clasping her hands together as her dark eyes stayed fixed on her assistant. 

Setting down the coffee and her files, a blush crept up her cheeks with a soft smile appearing on her lips. Myra cleared her throat and stepped back away from the desk, clasping her hands in front of her, “at least once more, your majesty, as always” she quipped. 

“We’ll see,” Valkyrie hummed, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

“There’s the marketing shoot at Infinity Conez and then you have a meeting with the players about their new production. You have some time scheduled with the construction company about the rebuild and then I’ve scheduled you some time for lunch.”

“Are you taking lunch with me?” Val asked, raising her eyebrow.

“Well someone has to make sure you eat properly, my King,” Myra smiled. 

Myra's eyes followed her as she pushed herself up and walked around the desk in her direction. A tender close-lipped smile on her soft full lips as she took a seat on the desk, just a few inches of distance between the two. 

"What on Asgard would I do without you, Myra?" 

She felt the heat rushing to her cheeks, and she must have had the start of a telltale pinkish hue on her cheeks from the slight twitch upward of Val's lips. 

"I'm sure you would fare quite well, my King." 

Val tsked, "I doubt that. There's nobody that can compare to you, darling," she affirmed, eyes locked on Myra's, their characteristic twinkle there once more. She clapped her hands in front of her, "Well then, shall we send the first citizen in?"

Myra tried the best she could to hide her attraction, the infatuation she'd been harboring for quite a while. It was getting harder to do so every single second she was close to Valkyrie.

Bowing her head to her King was the only excuse to hide the emotions surely making themselves known on her face from the perceptive gaze of her majesty.

"Yes, your majesty," Myra replied softly, backing toward the door.

"Myra..." Valkyrie warned, cocking her eyebrow at her assistant. 

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth to stop a smile, Myra's gaze stayed on the floor and she cleared her throat, "Yes... Valkyrie" she stuttered out. 

The soft chuckle of the King behind her was like music to her ears as she spun slowly and opened the office door, calling in the first person who was waiting. Most people that were coming in these days just wanted to know what the plan was if something were to come for their city again, and it was always the same answer; everyone is safe and protected here. The buildings could always be fixed, but it was the community that Valkyrie cared about the most, and it was one of the things Myra admired about their King.

Val didn’t return to her desk, instead guiding her guest to a pair of easy chairs off to one side of the office. Myra couldn’t help but admire the easy grace with which she moved around the room. There was no denying the King’s true heritage, even if she were hiding underneath a dark, plaid suit.

Handing Valkyrie the papers she needed for her meeting, Myra barely held in the small gasp at the electric tingle that danced up her arm as their fingers brushed. Ducking her head a little, she turned away, hiding her blush under the guise of making some coffee for the King’s guest.

She quietly confirmed with the citizen if they wanted milk in their coffee as she poured Val's favorite in her mug, black coffee with a sprinkle of cinnamon. Myra grabbed both cups, handing one to their guest with a polite nod as they spoke to their King and turned quickly to hand Valkyrie hers. She smiled as Valkyrie quickly turned her attention to her and mouthed a thank you with a wink.

Myra smiled politely in front of their guest, trying to ignore the little flip of her heart. She should be used to the subtle flirtation from Valkyrie — it was just how they were, after all — but the lingering looks and soft smiles today felt different, intentional. But then Myra wouldn’t be surprised if the other woman knew exactly the effect she had on her. 

She shook her head subtly and moved to her small workstation to take notes on the meeting. It was going to be a busy day, with no room for ridiculous thoughts of her King.

Keeping her head down, Myra scribbled in her notebook, keeping track of how many times each citizen tried to argue with Valkyrie. It was concerned arguing as if they didn't believe her that the town was safe, and after everything Asgard had been through, she didn't really blame them for being skeptical. It was written on their King's face every time she spoke to the people that even she had trouble believing it sometimes, but she always kept that brave face on for them. 

Myra chewed on the inside of her cheek, and her dark eyes flitted away from the paper and up to the King where she expected to see her listening intently to the citizen talk, but instead, she caught her gaze as Valkyrie smiled softly over to her assistant. 

It felt as though butterflies had swarmed her insides as she returned the smile quickly and looked back down to keep writing. 

A throat clear caught her attention, and she pushed her shoulders back to regain some of her posture as she moved from her desk. 

"Please see Richard out, and send in the next person," 

"Yes, your majesty" Myra bowed her head and moved to the door, pulling it open for the fisherman.

A sigh sounded from Valkyrie that held a hint of frustration and Myra immediately felt a flush of regret.  She didn’t mean to use her title, it just slipped out, and she hated the thought that she’d disappointed her King.  Carrying out her usual routine of offering the fisherman a drink, Myra was interrupted by the chime of an email.  She read it, and then, as she leaned over to refresh the King’s coffee Myra spoke softly near her ear.

“Excuse me my Ki…Valkyrie?  The stables have just messaged.  Aragorn is almost out of food.”

“Your Valkyrie hmm?”  Val replied with a hushed tease.  “Email Banner and ask him to send over some more of the formula he devised.  And tell him to deliver it himself, he’s way overdue for a visit.”

Myra nodded and rose, heading back to her workstation to carry out her orders.

She sat down and silently cursed at herself while she typed out the email to Banner. Not only has she used Valkyrie's title multiple times in what little time has gone by of the morning, against her wishes, but now she embarrassed herself by fumbling her words and failing miserably to fix them. Intensely focused on the screen as her fingers danced along her keyboard Myra failed to notice Val walking up and standing next to her until a hand hovered hesitantly over hers and finally rested above them. 

Myra sucked in a breath and stopped typing, looking up to her left and finding her King smiling down at her, "What did that keyboard ever do to you, Myra?" she laughed.

“I— uh. Sorry, y-Valkyrie. Just, everything feels a little— you know what, don’t worry about it. Apologies if I was typing too loudly.” 

Valkyrie snorted out a laugh at that and Myra glanced up at her, confused. 

“That wasn’t the problem,” Valkyrie said softly, “I just noticed you seemed a little in your head, and with the keyboard smashing… look when we’re done here, let’s walk to my next appointment. I want to feel the sun on my face and I can’t help but wonder what this pretty shirt of yours looks like in the light. That colour looks good on you, by the way.” 

Myra blinked, eyes drawn to the small pout on Valkyrie’s lips as she very obviously eyed the floaty tank top. Pale blue and not unlike the shade Myra saw her King admiring so often.

"I hope you don't mind," she stared up at Val through her lashes, "stealing the official color of the King and all."

Val's hand cupped her chin, delicately, in a way that felt natural to them but made the skin beneath her touch warm. "It looks better on you," she repeated herself with a deeper tone. "Finish up, I'll be waiting for you."

Myra nearly fell out of her chair as Valkyrie's hand ghosted her skin, fingers tickling her jaw as she pulled away from her. She turned back to the computer to hide the obvious blush on her face and worked as fast as she could to finish the email.  Her heart was beating a million miles an hour, her mind wandering to Val's lips and then shamelessly to how they might feel against her neck and thighs. She bit her tongue, snapping herself from her daydream and swallowed the sticky feeling of want before sending the email off.

Taking a moment, Myra let her eyes flit back over to Val, who waited by the window. Her normally serious features were lit up by the golden light of morning and Myra felt a flutter deep in her chest. Everything about her exuded power, but there was also a softness there that was reserved only for the most important. Lately, Myra had been on the receiving end of more careful touches and gentle looks, which only fueled the fire deep within. 

"Some people might say it's rude to stare."

Her King's voice snapped Myra out of another daydream and she felt a blush rise in her cheeks. 

"Sorry," Myra laughed bashfully, standing up from her desk as Val approached. "I'm in my own head this morning, I guess." 

"Never apologize to me, darling," the King of New Asgard drawled, a soft smile on her face. "Besides, I have daydreams of my own from time to time. I won't rob you of yours. Now let's enjoy the day together. " 

With a tilt of her head, Val gestured to the door and Myra's heels clicked along with the hammering of her heart as she followed her outside.

The cool, sea breeze hit her face and calmed the flush beneath her skin as she sucked in a deep breath and scanned her eyes over their town. There was still wooden scaffolding standing against a few buildings and there were people walking all about, carrying supplies and helping each other. It was a nice sight to see, and what made it better was the soft smile that appeared on Valkyrie's lips as she watched the same site. 

Myra took a deep breath of the fresh air, and gestured down the street, "we have the marketing shoot at Infinity Conez first, your majesty" 

"Myra," a deep chuckle left Valkyrie's chest as she placed her hand lightly on Myra's bicep, "you act like I've kept you locked up inside all day" she quipped, her thumb grazing gingerly across the skin of her arm, "besides Infinity Conez can wait for me, we are supposed to be enjoying the day"

“Come on, let’s just walk along the harbour wall a little, see if the dolphins are out,” Val continued, guiding Myra along with a gentle hand on the small of her back.

They turned and headed out along the walkway nodding and smiling at the variety of people they passed. It wasn’t lost on Myra how Valkyrie moved to walk on the side where the water was, keeping her safe close to the wall. They were halfway along when Myra realized that her King’s hand was still a warm and tantalizing presence against her spine.

A shiver ran up her spine at the realization and she felt Valkyrie's hand skate up and down her back softly before she retrieved it. She watched her remove her blazer, her heart hammering against her ribcage as her King placed it across her shoulders with a smile. 

"Oh, your majesty, I'm no-" as she protested, Valkyrie raised a hand and lightly shook her head.

"I insist, Myra. Air's a bit nippy today, wouldn't want you getting sick."

She reached out to pull the coat around her tighter, her hand brushing lightly against Val's, a wave of electricity shot through her nerves and suddenly she felt blessed by the thunder god himself. Her schoolgirl crush validated by an invisible strike of lightning across her chest.  

"Thank you, Valkyrie." 

"See, my darling Myra. It's not that hard. I love how you say it." Val said as reached over to smooth the shoulder over Myra’s, the soft fabric smelled compelling and just as she imagined Val to smell like, like in her countless daydreams about this woman.

“We really shouldn't dally," She deflected, sinking back into her work obligations to avoid the hot blooming in her chest from Valkyrie's eyes on her. "The crew is waiting at Infinity Conez, these marketing shoots are important for the tourism..." 

"Myra?" Her voice was so soft, tangled with the lapping of the waves, the chirping birds and the laughing children playing along the coast. "There are more important things in my life than bringing more tourists to the island."

"Your majesty-" She started. 

"I have everything I need, right here," her typically hardened expression softened as she said it.

"You're right," Myra breathed out, the tension pulling her closer to the woman next to her without a thought. "New Asgard is pretty perfect." 

Val chuckled and shook her head, looking out towards the steely ocean that stretched endlessly ahead before turning to Myra. A gentle hand brushed a stray curl from her cheek, buttery soft skin in stark contrast to the calloused hands of the warrior king. 

"You know that's not what I mean, Myra," Val murmured and it sent a shiver down Myra's spine. 

Her nerves were completely wound up, a single touch sending her into a spiral. All she wanted to do was lean in and take what she wanted, to feel Val's lips on her own in front of the entire village and the gods above and below them. 

"Should I elaborate further?" Val continued, raising an eyebrow as she smirked playfully. Her finger travelled down the slope of Myra's cheek to her throat, running along her pulse. 

"I-I really think we need to go to the next meeting," Myra stammered out and Val's hand dropped instantly as she took a step back. It pained Myra to see the briefest flash of disappointment in her King's eyes before she masked it with a smile.

"If that's what you really want, then lead the way."

Myra swallowed the lump in her throat and sucked in a sharp breath as they started walking again. What was she thinking? Valkyrie was the King of Asgard and she was her assistant. That was it. Her mind was misfiring and interpreting signals that she only thought were real. There was no way the King would be into a commoner like her. 

The two walked in silence to the ice cream shop, their fingers brushing lightly together every once in a while as they walked. It took everything in her not to link her pinky with Val's, but those feelings got pushed aside as soon as they walked into the shoot. It was teaming with people who swooped in and stole Valkyrie from her side. 

Myra felt her chest squeeze as she watched her King look back at her over her shoulder just briefly before turning her attention to the hair and makeup team. 

"You're late," the photographer snapped at Myra.

“And you should watch your tone,” the King snapped from the other side of the store, her voice clipped and almost frightening.

Valkyrie stalked back across the room and stared silently at the photographer, her eyes blazing with cool fire.  The moment dragged on, each second making the photographer squirm more and more.  Myra watched the scene unfold and her heart began to beat harder in her chest.   She reached blindly behind her for a bottle of water from the refreshments table, gripping it tightly in her hand as if it would ground her.

“Don’t ever speak to my…Myra like that again,” Val gritted.

The photographer let out an audible gulp and scurried away whilst a grinning Val turned to Myra.

“Y-your Myra?” Myra squeaked, handing the water bottle to her King.

“Did you doubt it?” Valkyrie smirked as she cracked the seal on the bottle and drained half the contents in one swig.

"I- I'm not sure what to say. But-" she stuttered out, her brain still processing what had just transpired. 

Her King's eyes softened as she closed the distance between them, hand reaching up to cup her cheek, swiping her thumb tenderly along her cheekbone. She watched Valkyrie's mesmerizing brown eyes flit from her own to her lips and back. 

"Well, now you know not to doubt it again," she whispered, her warm breath fanning across her lips.

The thought of being Val's Myra was daunting. Myra watched as she commanded the attention of everyone around her. Moving across the set like she was walking on water, her long dark hair blowing around in the light breeze and showing off the gentle curve of her neck. Myra's tongue darted over her lip before she shook herself from the trance and tugged her phone out in a desperate attempt to refocus herself. 

The shoot went quickly after the outburst, the photographer moving like a chicken without his head just trying not to piss off the new King even more than she already was. Val kept her eyes on Myra the entire time, the sun beating down on her face as she cracked fake smile after fake smile. Myra knew the look while stepping up to the plate without hesitation. 

"That's enough," she chirped, her voice barely loud enough to travel over the crowd of faces that had formed around the shoot. "The King has places to be, did you get what you needed?" 

Before the photographer even had time to answer, Valkyrie pushed past him, "I'm sure he did." She gave him another polite smile before leading Myra from the crowd and down the street back to the office. The two of them walked in an easy silence, their hands periodically brushing together as they walked. Val opened the door to city hall for her, letting her in first. 

"I'll call you when it's time to go to your dinner with Korg," she nodded politely just trying to put some space between them. Everything had gotten so hot so fast and even the cool ocean breeze wasn't enough to quell the heat that licked at her neck and chest. 

"Myra," Val called as they separated, "thank you..." Val stepped forward and for a moment she thought she might kiss her, the way her eyes flickered to and from her lips without a care of being caught.

Just as she was about to reply to her King, wanting to tell her that she was only doing her job and nothing more to try and quell the tension between them because she wouldn't know how to start dealing with confessing her affection, Ida, the bubbly blonde resident lawyer of New Asgard came waltzing in heading straight in Myra and Val's direction.

"Your majesty," she offered a small curtsey to the King, "may I borrow Myra for a few moments if you no longer need her assistance?" 

Her bright blue eyes flitted to Myra nervously with a pink hue on her cheeks. 

Myra looked to her King for permission to leave her side only to catch a fleeting frown, her King’s eyes surveying every subtle movement between the two.

“It will only take a moment,” Ida offered, adding a slight bow, “your Majesty.”

The confusion Myra felt must have been plain on her face.  Ida had never requested her presence in such a way before, never asking her to leave her King’s side like this.

King Valkyrie assessed the lawyer with a veil of indifference.  “Very well, but bring her back to me before lunch.” 

A flirtatious smirk crossed the lawyer's lips as she linked her arm with Myra's and trailed her fingertips against her skin, "Oh we won't be that long, I just need her to look over something for me," the blonde winked. 

Valkyrie's lips pursed and Myra watched as her dark eyes narrowed, flicking from Myra's gaze to the blonde's fingers lightly brushing her skin. The King's shoulder's visibly tightened and she gave a sharp nod before Myra was dragged away by Ida to the back of the room. 

"This color looks beautiful on you by the way," Ida commented loudly, into the echo of town hall, reaching her free hand over to touch the thin fabric. 

Myra pressed her lips into a thin line and cleared her throat, "Thank you, uh what - what did you need me to look over?"

“Oh, I have some legal meetings that I need you to incorporate into the royal schedule,” Ida said glibly, waving her hand in the air.

“Couldn’t that have been a raven-mail?” Myra asked with a frustrated sigh. “The King and I…”

“Oh hush, I’m sure Val won’t mind you leaving her side for a few moments. It’s not like you don’t spend every other second with her.”

Myra fixed a glare on the lawyer.

“You’ll address the King by her title,” she snapped.

"Excuse me," she scoffed, "Everybody addresses her as Val, Myra don't be silly" 

She huffed out a breath composing herself, "Well you may not, you will address her accordingly." 

Ida rolled her eyes in annoyance, unlinking their arms and turning to her with a scowl, "Who do you think you're speaking to?" her voice bouncing off the walls as her tone raised, "I will address her however I so please, I will not have someone like you telling me how to speak." 

A dagger flew across the room, whipping the air in the small space between the two before reaching the wall beside them. Ida gasped and both their heads snapped to it's place of origin. Myra's face flushed as soon as she was met with their King, her King, stood still on the other side of the room. Brows furrowed as her lips twitched in anger, her other dagger readied in hand. 

"I will not have you speaking to Myra like that, EVER. Is that clear? You show her the respect she deserves. Now I believe your time is up, or shall you have me throw this one as well?" she snarled, eyes fixed on Ida's face as she twisted the dagger in her hand.

Ida's form trembled, fear rolling off of it in palpable waves as the King slowly approached them while Myra's belly filled with butterflies and heat spread across her body at the sight. The mere thought of her King defending her enough to send her head spinning and for flames to lick her skin.

"Yo- your maj- majesty I only—" 

"Get. Out. Now." 

Val interrupted the stammering woman, eyes blazing in anger as she stood tall, the ghost of a smirk barely there on her face as the blonde immediately shut her mouth and started backing out.

Myra stood still, breathing slightly laboured as Valkyrie's eyes followed Ida to the door before finally settling back on her face when it slammed shut, on which she hoped the flush wasn’t evident.

Val’s eyes roved over Myra’s face, taking in her state of distress.  Adrenaline flooded Myra’s system, the blade had been close, very close, and the shock of its violent whump into the wood of the wall beside her still lingered in her nerves.

“Don’t worry, darling,” Val stepped into her space, raising a hand to tilt her chin up, “I would never harm you.”

“I know,” Myra mumbled, caught in the heat of Val’s gaze.  The words Your Majesty died on her tongue, thought and felt at her very core, wrapped up in all the emotions she felt, all the moments they shared.

“And besides,” her King added with a devilish smirk, “I don’t miss.”

Val leaned in close, and Myra’s breath caught as their cheeks came dangerously close to touching. 

“Let me just…” Myra held still as Val whispered in her ear, shivers racing down her spine as she reached up, and yanked her dagger out of the wall. Myra exhaled slowly as her King backed up, hearing her inhale as she did. 

“Ready for lunch my darling?” Val asked, a soft smile on her face as Myra tried to reorient herself, attempting to regain her professionalism.

Myra could hear her heart beating in her ears as her eyes flickered around her King's features. Her citrus-vanilla scent floated through her senses and made her head feel dizzy. The two had been in close proximity before but today was different. The purposeful touches and tension between them obvious to almost everyone. But still, Myra felt the need to push away the intoxicating feeling Valkyrie was giving her today and act like her professional self. As she did every day. 

She nodded softly and turned away from Valkyrie, letting out a sharp sigh as they went out on another excursion. Out into the town where they were just The King and her shy, little assistant. The way it should stay. The way it had to stay. 

"Myra," Val's voice floated through the air and brought Myra back to the present. 

She hadn't realized that she had been walking a full step behind Valkyrie, with her head down, looking at the pavement. "Sorry, your majesty," she answered quietly, stepping up beside her, "so you're having lunch with the head of tourism and discussing the expansion of the boat ride and the possibility of a roller-"

"Nope, I'm having lunch with you and we're getting burgers," Valkyrie decreed, a grin growing on her lips as she looked over at her assistant, "If you want, that is"

“But what about the head of t…” Myra began but was halted by gentle yet strong fingers wrapping around her wrist.

“I don’t give a shit about the head of tourism, the chief of rollercoasters, or even those fucking goats.  I want to have burgers for lunch and I want to have them with you.” 

Valkyrie’s eyes burned into hers and Myra felt herself crumbling beneath the intensity of her King’s gaze.

“O-Ok then,” Myra whispered, her voice gaining confidence as she spoke. “Burgers it is.  Let me just message…”

“Fuck ‘em,” Val growled, although she smiled.  “You’re more important than any of them.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” she laughed shyly, looking away from her gaze, feeling her face flush red yet again.

Myra missed the feel of Valkyrie’s fingers wrapped around her wrist as they moved and hovered over her open palm. She looked down to their almost interlaced hands and was quickly brought back to meet her King’s gaze by a firm grasp of her chin. 

“Now, what did I tell you about doubting, my beautiful Myra?” she purred, a sweet smile gracing her lips.

"I'll make a note of it in my calendar, no doubting," she teased, letting Val pull her closer. She fought to control the urge to tense up, so many people roamed the streets of New Asgard, eyes always on the King. 

"That's my girl," she said, pulling Myra's hand to her lips last second and pressing a lingering kiss to the top. "Now enough work talk, let me take care of you. Hamburgers and..." Val's bright eyes scanned the horizon over Myra's line of sight, "ice cream."

Myra followed King Valkyrie in a daze.  The warmth of that lingering kiss tingled upon her knuckles, effervescent and light, but the weight of what it meant made her heart thump uncontrollably.

Inside Bor-gers & Friez – New Asgard’s best and most loved burger joint – King Valkyrie led the way to a private booth, sitting opposite Myra, their feet meeting under the table.  The place had been split to accommodate Infinity Conez, ice cream fit for the gods, and was the perfect pairing of foods.

Myra buried her face in the menu.  The intensity with which her King watched her every move set her cheeks aflame and her nerves jangling.  She wanted nothing more than to be just what her King seemed to want and need, but for propriety’s sake…

King Valkyrie’s fingers drew the menu down until Myra’s eyes flicked up to meet hers.  “I don’t know why you’re looking,” Val mocked affectionately, “You always order the same thing.”

“Perhaps I want something different this time,”  Myra answered without thinking.  Her state of distraction drew a wry smile from her King.

“Is that so?”  Val smirked with satisfaction, sitting back to wait for this new revelation.

Myra hesitated, actually pausing to think this time before saying, “You never know when the right moment will come for change.” 

Val’s smirk slowly switched into a contemplative smile, eyes narrowing at Myra. 

“You’re right…Change often comes when we least expect it, maybe it’s nearly time for something to give?” Val questioned and Myra glanced away and back. 

“And so it is. Bacon burger deluxe with fries instead of my usual single,” Myra stated determinedly, watching her King start to laugh delightedly.

“What’s so funny?!” She added, a little disgruntled.

“Absolutely nothing Darling,” Val reassured, still chuckling.  “You enjoy your bacon deluxe.”

“Are you making fun of me?” Myra asked, her eyes wide and innocent.

“Oh no, I could never make fun of you.  You’re far too beautiful for that.”  Val paused and captured her gaze.  The intensity of her stare sent shivers running down Myra’s spine.

“Besides,” Val continued, “you’re in charge of my day.  If I made fun of you then you could schedule back-to-back meetings with that damn theatre company!”

Myra broke into laughter at her King's feigned worry. Though she knew all jokes aside, she'd actually have a conniption if Myra ever did that to her. 

"Oh no, that's far too dramatic over you making a little fun of me," she started her eyes flitting to Valkyrie's lips, luscious and plump curled into a genuine smile at hearing her laugh, "And, I could probably think of a few other things to pencil in that would make up for it, my King"

"Little mouse are you flirting with the lion?" Valkyrie looked at her with pride. 

"You started it-" Myra went to defend herself but a soft chuckle left Val's lips and the sound was enough to make her toes curl. "on second thought I think your Thursday, seven am slots just opened up. I'm sure they'll jump at the chance to fill it." 

"You wouldn't dare," Val narrowed her eyes playfully. 

"Who is the mouse and who is the lion?" Myra asked.

"Touché," she leaned back against the booth, her hand finding one of the knives to spin around on the table. "I would like to see that list..." she said and Myra's brows kissed in confusion, "the list of all the things that would make up for it. I should start working my way down it." Val's eyes trailed over her, drinking in everything she could with a lustful stare as she flicked the knife between her fingers.

Myra took a shaky breath, her legs crossing and uncrossing under the table as she tried to quell the throbbing that suddenly appeared there. 

"Am I making you uncomfortable, darling?" Val said with a smirk, laying the silverware back on the table as Myra's cheeks flared up. 

"No," she murmured, looking up through her lashes. "You could never do that, my King." 

"Good," Val said as she leaned forward, touching Myra's hand where it laid flat on the table. She started to trace circles on her palm and Myra almost let out a whimper. "Because I only aim to make you feel pleasure in my presence."

“I-“ Myra squeaked out a sound before the sound of footsteps broke through the daze surrounding her. Val took her hand back and Myra mourned the loss as she made a fist, hand still tingling from the contact. 

They gave their orders to the server who left immediately to put them in, leaving Myra staring at the table as her King stared at her.

Thoughts of Val danced around Myra's head to a melody of her laughter and calming voice that just seemed to surround her every time she opened her mouth. She could feel the King's dark eyes on her and everything in her was screaming at her to look up to take this chance, but she pulled herself back once more. This was a professional lunch and the mindless flirting was not going to get them anywhere. 

The two fell into idle chit chat as they sat and ate their burgers. Myra didn't want to admit out loud that while the bacon burger was good, she did actually miss her usual. 

She filled the King in on the current town gossip and their laughter filled the restaurant as Myra did everything she could to keep the conversation going appropriately. Which was more difficult as she thought with Valkyrie's foot lightly nudging her leg under the table, a fire igniting deep in her belly as her thoughts tried to shift. 

"Anyway, I know you don't want work talk, but you uh, you do have a few meetings this afternoon, and then Thor wanted to meet you for drinks this evening," Myra fidgeted nervously, her gaze landing on the King's lips as her tongue swiped across them.

“I do, that’s true,” the King mused, pinching her bottom lip between her thumb and first finger.  “I guess that means you get an early dart, right?”

“Well. I don’t…I mean…I have a lot of work to…”

“I’m not listening.” Val hummed, pretending to stuff her fingers in her ears.  “You’re gonna go home and have an early night.  You deserve it Myra.  And besides…”. Valkyrie laid her chin in her palm, her elbow resting on the table, “you don’t want to disappoint me, do you, Myra?”

“N-no,” Myra stammered, feeling a flash of heat rip through her, right to her core.

"Good," Myra's breath hitched as she watched Val bring her bottom lip between her teeth and smile, just stopping herself from finishing her thought, "good." She breathed. 

"Well then, my dear Myra, shall we walk back now? Allow me to bask a little more in your presence before you head home?" she asked as she stood and extended her hand to her for Myra to hold as she stood from her seat.

Myra looked up at her employer, the reason for many declined dates and late night dreams that had her tossing and turning in her sleep. It was just her hand, nothing more, but Myra knew that if she took it, then the door was open to a mountain of possibilities between them. There was a tingling under her skin as she raised her hand, almost too eager to feel the grip of the warrior before her. Before Myra’s skin could meet Val’s however, the doors to the small restaurant burst open and in ran one of the villagers who worked down by the ferry. 

“Ex-excuse me, Your Majesty,” the resident, a young man named Ivar, panted as he skidded to a stop before Val and Myra’s table. 

Val fixed him with a cool stare, raising one eyebrow in a clear message that whatever he is interrupting her for better be important. Ivar looked from Val to her assistant, still flushed and sitting in the booth. 

“Um, one of the goats, has…gotten away,” he stammered. “Toothgnasher, well he gnashed right through his chains.” 

With a heavy sigh, Valkyrie’s eyes rolled back and fluttered closed. Myra had to bite back a laugh at the sheer ridiculous nature of the events. 

“And where is he now?” she asked, exasperated. 

“He is currently plowing through the daycare’s garden. Already took out the playground.” 

“Which part?” 

“The entire playground, Your Majesty.” 

Val groaned before turning back to Myra, taking her hand once more. 

“Go home, Myra. I’ll come see you once this is handled and we can finish our…discussion.” 

With a gentle smile that quickly turned stoic as she turned back to Ivar, Val hurried out of the restaurant with the villager in tow. Myra couldn’t help the feeling of disappointment that filled her while walking back to her apartment, only a block over from the main offices of her King. It was a choice between going home and letting her mind wander, or keeping both her brain and her hands too busy to fantasize about what never could be. She chose the latter, despite Val’s implicit instructions. 

Day turned to night as Myra sat in front of her computer, barely noticing the lack of light as she typed away at emails, memos, and messages from Thor from whatever part of the galaxy he found himself in at that moment. There was a fair bit of teasing, the god of thunder being well aware of the crush Myra harbored for their mutual friend. Her fingers flew over the keys quickly, the clacking masking the heavy thud of the office door as it was closed by someone cloaked in darkness.

Myra sat silent, listening to the discontent sighs of the interloper as they rifled through King Valkyrie’s desk drawers.  The more they searched the greater their frustration grew until, with a forceful kick of the desk, they thumped down in the King’s chair.

She smiled, seeking the form of the person through the shadows, knowing with all certainty that this person was not a thief or a spy.

“Looking for this?”  Myra asked, holding up a rustic ceramic bottle stoppered with a gnarled cork peppered with red wax fragments; one of the last bottles of Asgardian mead that had been salvaged from the Ragnarok.  She had hidden the bottle after her King had spiked her own coffee at a town committee and banished the entire roster on account of them being boring.

King Valkyrie stood with no small amount of swagger and moved into the light cast by Myra’s computer, clearly a little worse for wear.  “Good girl.”  She accepted the proffered bottle with a sour pout and took a swig.

The praise sent goosebumps coursing down Myra’s spine, over the skin of her arms and left a warmth in her belly that she wished she could push aside, but she couldn’t.  She had been fighting these feelings so hard and denying herself for so long, that it had become almost automatic.

“Troublesome night?”

“When are the goats not troublesome, I swear I keep telling the smiths to strengthen their holdings but-” Valkyrie frowned,  “I thought I told you to go home.”

“You tell me many things,” Myra smiled coyly, “I don’t always listen. Your Majesty.”

Valkyrie looked at her, head tilting to the side. “Well, since you’re here, shall we continue our discussion?” Her free hand lifted, taking Myra’s and raising between them. Myra swallowed, looking into her King’s dark eyes, illuminated by the computer. Valkyrie grinned, lids lowering but gaze remaining fixed on her as she bent. 

“Pretty please?” she asked, quietly, her lips brushing Myra’s knuckles, a whimper slipping out of her throat.

Myra swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to ignore the crashing of her heart against her chest, her eyes remaining locked with her King’s. This couldn't be happening. It was the mead that was all. There was no way. 

"Your majesty, I - I don't know if that's a good idea, I can tell you've had a lot of mead and we can - just talk tomorrow," her words were cut short as Valkyrie pulled on her hand gently, getting Myra to stand. 

Valkyrie's hand let go of Myra's and found a home on her waist as she slowly guided her backwards and pressed her back against the wall, "you know as well as I that the mead makes no difference," she slid the bottle onto the desk beside them before bringing her hand up to brush a dark curl off Myra's forehead, "do I have to spell it out for you, Myra?" 

Shaking her head slowly, she allowed her hand to come up and land gently on the King's shoulder, "No I just -" she whispered, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth as she tried to think of the right words, "you're the King, and I'm just - "

"The most incredible woman I have ever met," Valkyrie whispered back, "if you want me to back off, just say the word..." she leaned forward and nudged the tips of their noses together. 

"Please don't..." her fingers curled into the collar of Valkyrie's shirt, actually scared that she'd cake away and they'd lose this moment forever. If there was any time to take a leap of faith, it was now. In the back of her mind, hung that black cloud of doubt but as she stood there caged between the stone wall and her King, Myra realized there was no place she'd rather be. 

Taking in a sharp breath, Myra tentatively leaned in and brushed her lips gently across Vals, pulling a chuckle from deep within her chest. 

"You can do better than that..." The king mumbled against her lips.

Myra’s eyes fluttered shut as she felt a hand slide up her throat and cup the back of her neck, fingers twining between the strands of her hair. It pulled her closer, keeping her pressed against Val’s mouth and she let out a whine that she hoped didn’t sound as desperate as she felt,

Tilting her head slightly, Myra felt the gentle brush of a tongue against her lips and she parted them, almost combusting at the welcome invasion.

A whimper left her lips as Val's hands seemed to disappear but quickly found purchase against her thighs.

Her fingers dug into her skin just below her skirt, "Can I?" Val whispered against her mouth and all Myra could do was nod. Without hesitation, Valkyrie pushed the hem of Myra's tight skirt higher, just enough to wrap her hands around the back and grip her thighs, lifting her against Val's thighs with barely a squeal from her kiss-swollen lips. She wrapped her arm around Myra's waist, using the wall for support as she peppered her throat. "Remember if this gets to be too much," she said breathlessly. 

"The word, the word...I know," Myra silenced her with another hungry kiss.

On the one hand, she wanted to savour the feeling of having the subject of her affection pressed up against her, devouring her in a passionate kiss while holding her body in her own, strong but still incredibly delicate hands.

On the other, she wanted more. It felt as if Myra was already drunk off their kiss as her lips tangled with her King's. Silently pleading and begging for more of the heat that's simmering between them to simply consume her and take over her entire being. 

She let out a small whine when Val's lips parted from her own only to slide down her throat, soft and slick with saliva and mead as they glided over her pulse point causing Myra to hold back a moan as she leaned her head back against the wall, eyes closing at the sensations the king was stirring in her body.

"Don't hold back, darling," Val murmured against her neck, her hands pushing further up Myra's skirt until she found the seamless panties underneath. "I've waited a long time to hear all the noises you can make." 

Val gripped the supple skin of Myra's ass, enough that she was sure purple marks would bloom the following day. She pressed Myra's quivering body further into the wall before lifting her up with a firm grasp on her back and thighs, taking Myra's breath away.

"What are you doing?" Myra panted against her King's parted lips, who carried her further into the office. Val smiled in response just as the hard oak of the royal desk pressed firmly into Myra's back. 

"We never got to have dessert," Val nearly growled, a hint of honey dripping from her voice. "And I am fucking starving." 

Val nipped the skin of Myra’s neck with her teeth, drawing a symphony of sounds that the meek assistant wouldn’t dream of making.  Gasps, moans, and sighs punctuated each nip and the soothing kisses that followed.  Myra clung to her King as a survivor of a shipwreck would cling to its flotsam, and Myra knew she was just as wet.

Grinning against the heated skin of Myra’s neck, Valkyrie moved carefully to stand between Myra’s legs and charted a course to her bounty.  Wet, mead-tainted lips trailed along inner elbows and wrists, beneath lifted blouses – King’s colours or not – Val looked like she wanted to map every inch of skin she could. 

Myra gasped and instinctively fisted her hand in Val’s long braids when the King’s teeth tormented the delicate skin of her cleavage, her nipples hardening under Val’s expert touch.  But the King didn’t stop there.  She kissed her way down Myra’s stomach, lowering herself to her knees before her subject.

Val paused, and Myra panicked, maybe this wasn’t what she wanted after all but she was met with her King looking up at the dishevelled state of her beautiful aid, the ravenous look in her eyes unmistakable. 

“You know, it should be you kneeling before me,” Val smirked, “I am the King of New Asgard, after all.”

“But you hate all of the formalities and titles.”  Myra panted, licking her lips nervously as Val looked up at her from between her thighs.

“True,” Val pursed her lips mischievously, “but you don’t.”

Myra nodded quickly, giggling slightly hysterically as she watched her King slide her hands up her legs from her knees to the insides of her thighs, spreading her open as heat passed through their skin. Valkyrie’s hands inched under Myra’s skirt, and just as they brushed the edges of her wet panties, just covering her folds, Myra shouted out, “Goats!”

The King blinked and stopped moving. “Goats?”

“It’s all I could think of?” Myra groaned as Valkyrie sat back on her heels, her hands falling away from Myra’s legs. 

Valkyrie examined Myra’s trembling form for a moment before smiling softly. “I think you need to cool off a bit”

Standing herself up, Valkyrie took Myra's hand in hers and pressed soft kisses up her skin to her neck, across her jaw and finally attached their lips once more, "Stay" she whispered, giving another quick kiss before sauntering through her office to the corner behind Myra's desk. 

Her head was spinning as she watched the king about her office, but the heat in her body calmed and craved Valkyrie's presence once more. Despite how fast this night was going and the lack of actual conversation they'd had about it, Myra knew this was what she wanted. The King was what she wanted. Always. 

Val reappeared with two plastic spoons and a tub of Myra's favorite ice cream from Infinity Conez, Mind Stone Mango. A soft smile appeared on the assistant's face as she tilted her head and watched Val. 

"Has that been here all day?" She questioned. 

Valkyrie cocked her eyebrow, and found a home back between Myra's legs, bringing the closeness back to them with a smirk, "is that really the question you want to ask right now?"

"I ask inappropriate questions when I'm nervous," Myra giggled as Val popped the lid on the ice cream and handed her a spoon. 

"Our standards of inappropriate are skewed," Val took a bit of ice cream, cleaning the spoon between her lips as Myra took her own trying not to clench her thighs together at the sight of Valkyrie devouring the dessert. 

Her heart skipped a beat as she watched Val sink again, pressing more ice cream into her mouth. She set the carton of ice cream next to Myra and dragged her cold fingers over her bare skin, sending shivers up her spine in shockwaves. She barely had time to collect her scattered thoughts as Val started to place slow, chilly kisses to her calf. Working her way up her hot skin, taking her time and driving Myra mad. 

"Val," she whimpered as her lips brushed against the hem of her hiked-up skirt. 

"Eat your ice cream, pretty girl," Val ghosted her tongue over her innermost thigh making Myra's toes curl in her shoes.

The icy temperature of Val's lips against her skin made Myra's hands tremble as she tried her hardest to bring the spoon to her mouth. When she felt teeth catch on the fabric of her underwear, right over where her clit lay throbbing beneath, she dropped a large dollop of sugary mango on her chest and yelped. Raising her head, Val locked eyes with the creamy splash on Myra's tawny skin and grinned darkly. 

"Messy little thing," Val chastised, clicking her teeth with an amused shake of her head. "Let me clean you up."

"Val," Myra whined again, wiggling her hips in protest before she was silenced by sticky fingers against her parted lips. 

"Shh," Val said. "I want to see how sweet it is before I get a real taste." 

Valkyrie moved her body up to hover over Myra and she felt the heat of Val's tongue immediately on her chest, biting and sucking at the melting dessert and the skin beneath. 

"And Myra," Val growled, licking her lips as she met the woman's heavy-lidded gaze. "In here, when I have you like this, I'm not Val. I am your King."

“Oh gods, yes your Majesty,” Myra moaned and Valkyrie surged upwards, taking her lower lip between her teeth, and pulling it into her mouth. Val sucked on it as her sticky hands roved under Myra’s bra, squeezing her breasts and pinching her nipples until she was whimpering, Valkyrie’s tongue pushing into her mouth and swallowing the sounds. 

“Tastes better on you,” Valkyrie whispered into the kiss before pulling back, kissing her way back down Myra’s body. 

Valkyrie raised Myra’s skirt further, reaching below and pulling her panties down until she could step out of them, kicking them aside. Val shouldered her way between Myra’s legs, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to her inner thighs, steadily getting closer to where she wanted it most.

"Your majesty... please" Myra rasped into a moan as Valkyrie peppered more kisses against her skin. 

Val's hand went up and pressed into Myra's chest firmly, pushing her to lay down onto the wooden oak desk, "shh, you're okay beautiful girl, I've got you," she smirked into her skin. 

An electric shock shot up her spine as the king finally pulled Myra's throbbing bud between her lips and sucked, before swirling her tongue around it in tight circles. A deep moan left her chest and her hand went flying up to land on a stack of official files that lay beside her head. 

"Oh my god, Va- my King," she breathed, arching her back into the desk. 

Valkyrie chuckled, sending vibrations of pleasure through Myra's body, "you taste just as sweet as I'd imagine"

Myra could barely form words, every tangled emotion dripping from her lips came out a guttural moan as Val nibbled gently at her clit as her hand raked over the flat of Myra's stomach. Her fingers curled around the fabric of her bra, tugging on it until Myra took the hint. She wiggled free of the straps exposing herself to her King, struggling to keep her hips on the table as Val curled a long, smooth finger into her folds. 

She could feel the smile on Valkyrie's lips as she teased her relentlessly until Myra was screaming her name. She removed her lips from her sensitive core, standing to hover over Myra. "You have to be quiet," she warned. 

"You have to be more naked," Myra took the chance of punishment as she pressed a heel into Valkyrie's shoulder, stopping her from moving any further. 

Her head tilted to the side, hair cascading down the sharp lapels of her suit and a sly smile pulled across her face. "Is that any way to speak to your King?" Val quipped. 

"My King is wearing far too much clothing," Myra raised an eyebrow.

With a smirk, the royal rose to her feet and shrugged off her jacket and kicked off her shoes. Myra licked her lips as Val pulled her belt from the loops, the clanking of the buckle loud against the hardwood floor. Left in only her white button down, Val stepped closer to Myra's heat and slowly unbuttoned the silky fabric, exposing toffee colored skin and strong lines of muscle. 

"Better now?" Val murmured, bringing a hand up to grip Myra's chin, kissing her gently and leaving her taste on her own tongue. 

"Much. Thank you, Your Majesty," Myra breathed with a soft giggle, moaning at the feeling of her lover's hands between her legs once again.

“Mm anything you need sweet girl, just ask,” Valkyrie whispered, sliding two fingers between Myra’s folds, capturing the gasp that left her lips in another deep kiss. Myra tore away, heaving for air as her King sucked bruises along her neck and collarbones, pushing her down against the desk until she was once again between her thighs. 

“Can you-“ Myra hesitated, flushing. 

“Remember sweet girl, just ask and it’s yours,” Valkyrie murmured, pressing a soft kiss to her knee. 

“Your daggers,” Myra blurted out. “Use them to cut my skirt.” She flushed but kept her eyes on her King’s, watching them get blacker. 

“As you wish, my darling,” Val grinned, reaching behind her and pulling out her daggers. She slid the flat of the blade up Myra’s thighs, moving slowly before making a sudden gesture and slicing through the material of her skirt.

Myra gasped, and let out a whine at the gesture, her dark eyes finding her King’s as the fabric fell off her hips, leaving her there completely naked in front of Valkyrie. It was a dream come true in her mind, the dizzy feeling returning as she craved the touch of her girl once more. 

Sitting up, Myra grasped the collar of Val's white shirt and attached their lips, swallowing a moan from the woman in front of her. Her hands travelled down her body, finding the opening of the white shirt that still hung from her body, tucking her fingers into it and pulling, sending clear plastic buttons flying through the office. 

She looked up to meet Val's gaze to find the king smirking down at her. 

"That's my girl," she whispered before pushing her back gently onto the desk once more and kissing her way back down Myra's body as the tips of her fingers dragged through her wet folds and pushed one inside of her.

"Saints," a string of swears fell from Myra's lips as Val's tongue flicked over her clit, her finger working at a languid pace from the inside. "More," she begged. 

Val practically growled against her, "I've imagined that sound in my dreams for months but it sounds so much better coming from your lips," she whispered, "ask nicely." 

"Please your Majesty, I need more." 

"So pretty when you're desperate,"  the words rolled off Valkyrie's tongue and seemingly tickled every nerve in Myra's body.

Her heels came down on Val's back and urged her on, while her hips began to mimic the same motion. For a moment, Myra worried that Val would stop her, but she only gripped her thighs tighter and lapped fast at her slick.

"Yes, don't stop, thank you, gods," Myra sobbed, nearing a breathless high while she fucked the face of her Majesty. She didn't know what she was thanking her for. Nonsense just flowed from her lips as the wave rose and rose, her body rigid against the wooden desk. 

Another finger joined the first inside Myra's cunt and Val curled them, finding perfectly the spot that Myra wanted most. She cried out, back bowing as she came hard and fast, slick dripping down onto the desk beneath them.

Myra breathed out, the sound turning into a squeak as her King kept going, fingers moving slower but deeper. 

“Come on pretty girl, give me another,” Valkyrie encouraged, murmuring against Myra’s lower lips, spit and slick keeping them sliding together. “Y’can d’it” she mumbled as she locked her lips around her hole and fingers, sucking hard. 

Myra screamed, orgasm hitting her like a punch to the gut, exploding out of her, zinging through her fingertips and toes.

The view of Valkyrie’s warm, slick tanned skin was even better from below. Her strong thighs demanded attention but Myra’s gaze couldn’t help but drink in the soft curves of her hips and the tight muscles of her stomach. She admired the round shape of her pert breasts and her mouth went dry thinking about wrapping her lips around her hardened nipples. 

“Do you like what you see?” Valkyrie rocked back onto the table, leaning against it and allowed Myra to hook her knee over her shoulder as she nodded quietly. “What do you want little mouse?” She whispered, raking her hands through her hair and tilting her chin up further. 

“To taste my King,” Myra’s kiss-swollen lips turned upwards as she nibbled the soft skin of Val’s inner thigh.

Valkyrie inhaled sharply as Myra bit down, soothing the mark with her tongue. She dropped to her elbows on the desk, head raised to watch Myra. 

“Go ahead,” Valkyrie murmured, lowly, spreading her legs another inch as Myra dove in.  She lapped at her King’s cunt, kissing her clit and worshipping her like she’d been longing to do. 

A hand in Myra’s hair forced her back, away from her prize and she whined, eyes desperately meeting Valkyrie’s. 

“Tell me, sweet girl, how does your King taste?” she nearly purred and Myra shivered, eyes fluttering. 

“So good, your Majesty,” she whimpered and Val’s eyes flashed as she strained to get back to her.

Every sound and praise that dripped from Valkyrie's mouth was like music to Myra's ears as she swirled her tongue around the swollen bud of nerves, and curled two fingers into Val's cunt. The way she tasted more sweet than Myra had ever imagined sent her brain into a frenzy. 

Reaching up, Myra found Valkyrie's hand and intertwined their fingers, allowing herself to smirk as she felt Val's grip tighten around her hand while her other flew up and wound itself into Myra's dark curls. 

"Right there, angel," Val moaned, throwing her head back to look at the ceiling, "just like that, fuck"

Myra kept her pace, wanting to pull every sound she could from Valkyrie's lips and memorize each movement that corresponded. That was her job, after all, keeping track of everything that made the King, happy.

Myra slid a third finger into Val, filling her just enough as her fingertips stroked her spot. 

“Oh, fuck!” Valkyrie cried as she came, one long, extended orgasm. Wave after wave rocked the king and Myra worked her through them all, pressing soft kisses to her clit and licking around her still gently thrusting fingers. 

When the King’s hips finally settled against the wet desk, Myra slowly slid her fingers free, pressing a gentle kiss to her cunt before pulling away. 

Myra sat back on her heels, Valkyrie lifting up on shaking elbows. “Come here, sweet girl,” she murmured, reaching down and grabbing Myra’s chin, leading her up between her legs until she was laying on top of her, cuddled on the desk. 

Myra’s head was pillowed on Valkyrie’s arm, her other arm around Myra’s waist, holding her close. They stayed quiet, trading soft kisses and lingering looks.

Drawing circles along Valkyrie's belly, Myra couldnt stop the soft smile that stayed plastered to her lips. She wasn't sure what all of this meant to the king and it would definitely be something they would need to talk about, but for now, she did her best to quiet those thoughts and focus Val's soft skin beneath her and the sound of her panting breaths. This night had been everything she wanted it to be and more, it wasn't something she was about to let her own brain ruin for her. 

Valkyrie's lips pressed a soft lingering kiss to the side of Myra's head, causing her to look up into the wet, dark eyes of her king. Her chest squeezed together as the worst thought exploded into her mind. Maybe it was just her that wanted this. Maybe this was the king about to tell her that it had all been a huge mistake. 

"You know," Val cleared her throat and sucked in a sharp breath, turning her eyes to the ceiling "when I lost my last love on the battlefield, I thought that was it. I never wanted to or tried to find someone to bring back into my life, and then," her gaze landed back on Myra, catching her eyes once more, "you waltzed into my office when we landed here and somehow knew me better than I knew myself" 

"Your majesty, I -" 

"In the years you've been my assistant, you have managed to slowly piece back together every piece of heart without even knowing it," Valkyrie whispered, her eyes tracing over each feature on Myra's face, "I couldn't do this without you... I couldn't do anything with you" 

Myra stretched up and captured Val's lips with hers as she reached up and wiped away the single tear that had escaped down the king's cheek. 

"You don't have to do anything without me, I'm not going anywhere," Myra reassured, letting her thumb linger against Val's cheek, softly sending the sadness away. 

Valkyrie smiled, and nudged their noses together, pulling Myra as close as possible to her body, "You know, every good King has an even better Queen..." she teased, locking their gaze with one another, "And you, my beautiful, charismatic, surprisingly funny, and so smart girl, have the makings of a powerful Queen, so be mine…" 

"Oh I don't - " Myra started, her bottom lip finding a home between her teeth. 

"Pretty please..." Valkyrie whispered once more as she pressed her lips softly to Myra's. 

Nodding slowly, Myra pulled back with a sweet smile, and cupped Val's cheek once more, "Anything for you my king, always" 

[genderflu1dwh0r]

My ChanDean Boss x Assistant au

They get a dog and Heather likes to golf, this happens

Snatchies

(via)

[yanderenightmare]

FEM x M INSERT masterlist

Fem reader x male insert

Yandere and other Kidnapping Tales ~

Yandere kidnapper takes your virginty:

♡ VIRGINITY

Yandere captor has too much libido:

♡ REMINDER

Thirsty thoughts on big yanderes x tiny darlings:

♡ GENTLE GIANT

Yandere kidnapper softly nonconning darling:

♡ soft noncon

Yanderes who keep you high as a kite:

♡ HIGH AS A KITE

Yandere captor using you as his pretty rope-bunny:

♡ ROPE-BUNNY

Yanderes who's obsessed with breeding:

♡ FORCED BREEDING

Spending Valentine's Day with your incel kidnapper:

♡ HAPPY VALENTINES

Yandere kidnapper is a sexual sadist:

♡ RIBBED CONDOMS

Yandere captor staking claim to all your holes:

♡ STUFFED

Misogynist boyfriend keeps you captive:

♡ A SHITTY MOVIE

Strange Yandere keeps you locked inside his playroom:

♡ THE PLAYROOM

Your sweet boyfriend shows his true colors:

♡ TRUE COLORS

Your rich boyfriend buys you everything:

♡ PROPERTY

Poly yanderes with captive reader in apocolypse au:

♡ THE BUNKER

Boyfriends and Husbands~

Simpy boyfriend is unabashedly obsessed with your ass:

♡ ASS

Boyfriend is embarrassed:

♡ POST NUT CLARITY

Sweet boyfriend won't stop talking about anal:

♡ SECOND VIRGINITY

Snugglebug boyfriends who're just so clingy and hopeless:

♡ VIRGINAL

Your toxic boyfriend is a little old-fashioned-minded:

♡ BENEVOLENT SEXIST

Breaking up with you bad boyfriend:

♡ BAD BREAKUP

Condescending boyfriend:

♡ HOPELESS

Businessman x trophy wife:

♡ TASTE OF MONEY

Reformed bully boyfriend wants to roleplay the past:

♡ REFRAMING TRAUMA

Your trip-sitter isn't as trustworthy as you think:

♡ TRIP-SITTER

You break up with your sorry-ass gamer boyfriend. He does not take it well:

♡ GAMER-RAGE

Incest and Pesudo-incest ~

Step-bro creeps on you:

♡ CREEP STEP-BRO

Step-daddy puts you in your place:

♡ TRAINING

Omegaverse and other Hybrid Tales ~

Pet collector buys bunny reader:

♡ BOUGHT & SOLD ♡ THE OTHER PETS

Beast boyfriend x human reader:

♡ INSTINCTS

Poly wolfboys x bunny reader:

♡ BUNNYHOLES ♡ GROOMING

You were certain you were an Alpha, but as it turns out...

♡ TWIST OF FATE

Hybrid bear yandere takes bunny darling captive:

♡ BUNNIES MAKE THE BEST SLUTS

You're sent to an omega institution for behavioral correcting:

♡ THE OMEGA INSTITUTION

Patronizing soft dom Alpha:

♡ OVERWHELMED

Behemoth dominant Omega x tiny Alpha reader:

♡ UNNATURAL ♡ part two

Alpha is dogshit at courting Omega reader:

♡ SWEATER WEATHER

Sword and Sorcery ~

Massive warrior claims you as his war prize:

♡ WAR PRIZE

Orc master loves making a cum-slut out of his pretty elf slave:

♡ ORC x ELF ♡ ORC x ELF

You become the spoiled prince's personal maid:

♡ FARM ANIMAL

Elf reader captured and gangbanged by orcs:

♡ THE PILLORY ♡ PART TWO

Cruel Emperor makes a harem out of all his bastard sons and daughters:

♡ HALFBLOODS

Set in medieval times, you get punished by the parish priest for gossiping:

♡ BRANK'S BRIDLE

Bullies and other College Tales ~

You let your bully fuck you in exchange for him leaving you alone:

♡ WORSE OFF

Your childhood bully tracks you down:

♡ APOLOGETIC BULLY only avaliable on AO3 ♡ PART TWO

When the playboy finally falls in love:

♡ PLAYBOY

Your strict teacher fucks your throat raw in detention:

♡ DETENTION

You're a popular airhead, and he's your loser tutor:

♡ BLIND TRUST

Teacher teaches you a hard lesson:

♡ HARD LESSON

Pretty reader x virgin loser boy:

♡ VIRGIN BOY

Boss-man and other Office Tales ~

Boss uses his assistant whenever he wants and however he wants:

♡ BOSS

The old-fashioned boss with intern reader:

♡ NEW INTERN

Colleague crushing on reader in office au:

♡ CUT TO THE CHASE

Loser colleague crushes on mean girl reader:

♡ ERRAND BOY

Miscellaneous ~

Reader owes the mob:

♡ PROPERTY

You're not cheap, but you're worth it:

♡ FAVORITE WHORE

You're not really a model, but the brash photographer doesn't care:

♡ PHOTOGRAPHER ♡ PART TWO

♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[charliemwrites]

Mafia!au part 5!

A bit of fluff, a bit of drama, a bit of Soap!

Content: Attempted Gaslighting, Violence

“Gooood morning, sir!” you sing as you sweep into Mr. Price’s office. “And happy birthday!”

His head shoots up from whatever he was brooding over, brows arched high in genuine shock. Surprise is a good look on him.

“How the bloody hell did you know it’s my birthday?” he demands, sitting back in his chair.

You beam, sauntering right up to his desk. His eyes flick to the round white box balanced on top of your tablet. Nothing big, a little something you baked at home after a couple dissatisfying trials.

“It’s my job to know,” you reply easily.

He blinks– a habit you flatter yourself thinking he might have picked up from you. “What else do you know about me?”

You tilt your head at him, a smug curve to your lips.

“Just the basics. Your full name and birthday,” you demure. Hold up your free hand and start rattling off on your fingers. “Height, allergies, tea preference, pastry preference, blood type, drink of choice…”

You set the box in front of him and resettle your tablet in the crook of your arm. He stares at you for a beat, expression bleached from surprise to outright shock. You spin your stylus around your fingers.

“Which is why I made you a marble cake with whiskey instead of rum.”

His eyes lock onto the unassuming white box. It’s not a big cake by any means, about six inches in diameter and only one layer. Just a small something for Price to have for himself. God knows the rest of the boys (and Farah) get enough treats from you as it is.

“You made this?” he asks, leaning a bit forward.

“Yessir,” you declare, “and I’m pretty good at it too. Perks of stress baking.”

He runs a hand down his face, as if his beard got ruffled. “Christ, you need a raise.”

“Yes. Anyway – I’ll get you a plate after I’m done,” you say, swatting at his curious hand. He huffs but sits back to give you his full attention. You smile in reward and begin reciting his schedule for the day.

He listens, only interrupting when he needs clarification on little details. You try not to be too endeared by the way his eyes occasionally flick to the covered cake. When you finish, you twitch your nose at him knowingly.

“I’ll get you a plate before I get started on that expense summary,” you say, turning on your heel.

You hum in surprise when a large, calloused hand catches your wrist. It’s not the hand of a businessman, you think, but a man used to work. A man who does the hard things for himself. Before meeting John Price, you would have scoffed at the thought of a rich man knowing labor. Price though… well, he’s been proving to be a welcome exception since the very start.

“Thank you for this, love,” he says, voice hitting that tone and pitch that makes your insides squirm. He caresses his thumb over the tender skin before releasing you. “Really.”

You can already feel the blush climbing up the back of your neck, over your ears, creeping onto your cheeks. Can’t ever catch a break with him.

“Well, don’t thank me ‘til you’ve tried it,” you try to deflect.

“Weren’t you the one saying you’re decent at baking.”

“Yeah, well… maybe I poisoned you or something – for that time you closed my skirt in the door.”

He sputters a bit. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from giggling at the indignance on his face. Such a handsome, almost regal man. You love to rile him up.

“I apologized. Profusely.”

And offered to buy you a new skirt entirely. The way you’d shrieked that that was not an appropriate response made Soap choke with laughter as people stared.

“Yeah, well, I hold a grudge,” you reply, shrugging.

It’s true, but not about things like that. Graves and his assistant? Oh, that’s practically a blood feud at this point. A silly little accident where your boss left a crease in your fourth favorite skirt? That’s not even something to forgive him for, but you sure as hell will never forget. Especially when he still seems mildly sheepish about it.

“You wouldn’t be the first,” he grumbles. You’re not sure if he’s talking about grudges or poisoning, but the dramatics finally make you laugh.

“But I could be the last,” you call over your shoulder as you flounce out.

Not for long though, returning with a disposable fork from the breakroom. There’s something amusing to only you about a man in a thousand-pound suit using cheap plastic.

“Come to see me keel over for yourself, then?” he asks.

“Well, I can’t have you getting cake crumbs on the expense reports,” you reason.

He’s already got the lid open. No icing on the cake – you’re shit at decorating, so you chose a recipe without icing. The flavor of the whiskey and sugar should be plenty. To make up for it, you folded a tiny placard and wrote “Happy Birthday, Boss!” in your best loopy cursive.

He takes the fork, fingers brushing yours in the process. You remind yourself not to snatch your hand away like a scandalized Victorian lady. Christ, you really need to get it together.

“Tell me how you like it,” you say, making to leave again.

“Come try it yourself,” he protests.

You pause, give him an amused look. “I didn’t actually poison it, sir. You’ve not done anything that heinous. Yet.”

He snorts, carefully digging out a respectable bite from the edge. “If you see fit to toss a little rat poison in, then I’ll likely having it coming.”

You hum. “Arsenic is more my style. Classic.”

In the corner of the room, Simon makes a little noise you’ve come to recognize as repressed laughter. You shoot him a quick, amused look, before shifting your attention back as Price gestures with the fork.

“Regardless, you should get a little taste of the fruits of your labor,” he offers.

The fruits of your labor, you think with a bit of regret, will be his enjoyment of your baking. You’re not sure when his admiration became your favorite part of the day, but you’re spoiled for positive feedback from your otherwise stern boss.

“You first,” you insist, “it’s your birthday after all.”

He keeps unnerving eye contact as he brings the bite to his mouth, tongue flicking out to catch any spare crumbs. He hums, eyes closing a for a second in enjoyment, before opening and fixating on you again.

“That’s bloody brilliant, love.”

He scoops up another piece, brings it right to your mouth. You hurry to put a hand beneath in case it falls; don’t even think before parting your lips. Sugar and whiskey, chocolate and vanilla, burst across your tongue.

“Oh!” you hum, hiding your mouth while you chew. “That is pretty good.”

It only occurs to you as he takes another bite for himself, a twinkle in his eye, that you just ate after him. Used the same fork like it was nothing, like that’s an acceptable thing to do as his assistant. You’re not squeamish by any means, no. It’s just… it’s gotta be crossing some sort of professional line. You can’t imagine any of your previous bosses ever sharing with you like this.

“Let me tell you, if you did poison it,” he muses, “I wouldn’t mind it being the last thing I ate.”

You roll your eyes, swat lightly at his arm again. “I told you; it’s not poisoned.”

“I know, you just took a bite,” he answers smugly.

You click your tongue at him, playing at exasperated. “I’m going to work now.”

“Ta, love.”

--

“Oi, li’l miss?”

You glance up at Soap curiously.

(Recognize, in the back of your mind, that it’s a nickname that’s not only spread – thanks, Simon – but that you’re responding to as quickly as your own name now. You should probably feel some type of way about that. Probably righteously annoyed or something. You don’t.)

Soap is standing at your desk, shifting from foot to foot. Uneasy. But the expression on his usually friendly face isn’t nervous. It’s… something else. Something you don’t know how to decipher but makes you sit up a bit straighter, alert.

“What’s up, buttercup?” you ask, voice light.

“There’s some bloke down in the lobby, says he’s got a date with you?” he explains, frowning deeper than you’ve ever seen.

It gets deeper – and angrier – when he sees the blood drain from your face. You push your chair away from your desk to hide the tremble that’s trying to infest your hands.

Absolutely not. This is your place of work, dammit. Where you’re calm and collected, the person anyone can turn to for solutions. You’ve worked so hard to craft this sleek vessel of professional grace and you’re not about to have it sullied like this.

“He does not have a date with me,” you state, keeping your voice flat and tight. “Would you come down with me, please?”

“’Course,” he replies instantly.

You stop by Price’s office, knock twice, then poke your head in when he calls for entry.

“I’ve just got to pop out for a mo’,” you explain, “I’ll be right back!”

He nods and you duck out again before he can notice anything amiss. For a rich bastard, he’s too observant of others. (Especially you.)

“What’s he here fer, then?” Soap asks in the elevator.

You let out an annoyed puff of air. “A reality check, I assume.”

He side-eyes you but doesn’t ask any further before the doors open.

Sure enough, standing in the lobby, is the last man you want to see. Your ex, Brandon.

“There you are, bunny. You’ve been keeping me waiting for—”

“One, do not call me that. It’s inappropriate,” you interrupt, crisp and sharp. “Two, I haven’t been keeping you waiting, because there’s nothing to wait for. Three, get out.”

He rolls his eyes, that smarmy curve to his lips never leaving. You don’t think he’s even noticed Soap just behind you yet.

“Look, I know you’re still in a mood about everything,” he says, “but that’s why I’m taking you out. To smooth things over. Clear the air, and all that.”

“You’re not taking me out,” you repeat. “Get out.”

He crosses his arms, tilting his head in that condescending way you’ve always despised. It sets your teeth on edge, makes you burn with anger.

“This isn’t your building,” he goads, “you can’t kick me out.”

“Might as well be hers, mate,” Soap interjects, “she could kick out the goddamn queen.”

Brandon’s focus shifts to him. You feel a curl of vindictive satisfaction when his expression curdles a bit. Soap may not be a particularly tall man, but he can be intimidating. Built thick and strong, doesn’t bother to conceal his physique at all with his sleeves rolled up his forearms. And you’re not oblivious to his looks either. Soap is a handsome man. A walking ego bruise for a man like your ex.

“Fine,” he huffs, “then come outside so we can talk like adults.”

You click your tongue, fold your hands behind your back to conceal the way your fingers clench into fists. “We did talk like adults. You just failed to listen like one.”

And ohhhh, the petty satisfaction that bubbles through you at the way his teeth click in shock, a flush of embarrassed anger curtaining his face.

“Now, I’ll ask one more time and then my coworker is going to toss you out himself.” Soap chooses that moment to crack his knuckles. “Leave this building. You’re not welcome.”

You drop your arms and turn on your heel, ready to get back to work and compartmentalize this until you’ve got a fuck-off sized glass of wine in front of you.

“Hey, we’re not—”

Even if you did see what happened, you don’t think you could have followed. It happens so fast. One second, Soap’s eyes are on you. Burning with questions and fury on your behalf, checking that you’re okay. The next, he’s darted past you. There’s a scuffle, fancy shoes squeaking on polished floors, a thick, wet pop. Then Brandon is shouting in pain.

You jump, twist to see what the commotion is. Soap’s got a white-knuckled grip on Brandon’s extended wrist – though now it’s bent at an awful angle, you realize he must have been reaching for you. Your skin crawls.

“Away ‘n bile yer heid,” Soap growls, shoving Brandon back roughly.

He doesn’t fall on his ass but it’s a near thing. With the eyes of reception, a few employees, and you on him, he spits a curse at Soap and retreats. You stare after for a moment, lips parted in shock.

“All set, miss?” Soap asks, adjusting his sleeves.

“Um, yeah,” you say. Blink and pull yourself together. “I mean, yes. Let’s head back up before the boss misses us.”

He places a hand on the small of your back on the short walk back. It feels grounding rather than proprietary; you’re grateful for it. He lasts until the doors close before turning to you.

“The hell was that about, lass?”

You sigh, smooth your skirt down for lack of anything else to do. “That was my ex. He wants to… reconcile, I suppose. And he’s quite keen on getting his way.”

Soap mutters a few choice words under his breath. Scottish slang, you suspect. You’ll have to get him to teach you sometime.

“Anyway, thank you for your help,” you continue, eyes on the elevator doors. “I can’t believe he showed up here. I’m so embarrassed.”

“You’ve nothin’ to be embarrassed about, hen,” he protests. “He’s the creeper here.”

You sigh. “I know, I just… you don’t think less of me, do you? That I didn’t… take care of him myself.”

Soap’s expression softens. He draws you into a quick one-armed hug. “You did take care of ‘im, far as I’m concerned. I was just there to enforce. No need to mess up yer pretty nails, aye?”

You smile, small but genuine. “Thanks, again.”

“Anytime, li’l miss.”

The elevator chimes as it reaches the top floor. You turn to Soap just before the doors open.

“Oh, and please don’t tell the boss.”

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[slashbitch2]

The Proposal AU! (part one)

Summary: when your boss Agatha faces the threat of deportation, she convinces you to marry her in return for a promotion- and things only get more complicated with a trip to Salem, an eccentric tarot-card-reading aunt, and a homophobic mother to convince.

Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

TW: deportation (which I admit I know very little about I'm not American lol) suggestive themes, sort of arranged marriage

W.C: 1.3k words

PARTS: TWO, THREE

Agatha Harkness was a terrible boss. In the five years you had been working as her assistant, you had her schedule memorised, you constantly tried to anticipate her needs, and yet, she could barely remember your name. And that wasn’t the only flaw, oh no. There was the erratic behaviour, her quickness to anger, the fact that she always teetering the line between serious and sarcastic, so you could never quite tell whether she meant what she had said. Which would be your excuse if she attempted to criticise your response time to her latest question.

It's just… there was no way she was being serious… Right?

“I’m sorry. Could you repeat that last part, please?” You asked slowly, steadily lowering the file in your hands to pay full attention to Agatha. She was sat at her desk, looking up at you as though you were an idiot. So, like usual.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to get down on one knee.” Agatha scoffed, and when you didn’t respond, quirked an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“I’m just having a hard time comprehending what you’re asking of me.” You spluttered out.

She exhaled, clearly irritated. Then leant forwards over the desk and demanded, “Marry me,” punctuating each word with the intensity of her glare.

Under her scrutiny, you could feel your cheeks flushing. She never usually paid this much attention to you unless she needed something, which was rare. But this was too far. It had to be some kind of test surely. Of what, you weren’t sure. Loyalty? Dedication? Insanity?

After a beat of silence, you finally remembered to respond. “You’re insane.”  You folded your arms across your chest, still in disbelief that she would ever ask such a thing. You knew Agatha was unpredictable, dramatic, terrifying even, but never could you have imagined her saying such a thing on this unassuming Thursday afternoon. She never brought her personal life into work, and so why she would want to bring her work (aka you) into her home, her bed, well- it was a mystery.

Your cheeks grew redder at the image your mind conjured up. You and the boss, in bed, together.

The silence continued, and you summoned the resolve to look back at Agatha. She was staring up at you expectantly, and you realised that, despite your aghast reaction, she was still awaiting a response.

“No!” You exclaimed, mouth agape.

At this, her red lips stretched back into a malicious grin. “I wasn’t asking, dear.”

Something about her teasing smile and her mildly threatening words flustered you. “Well… you can’t make me.” You responded futilely. You knew she could. This was Agatha Harkness, after all. She could make anyone do anything.

And yet… “No, I can’t.” Agatha conceded with a simple shrug.

This caught you off guard. You frowned down at her, wondering if this was some form of reverse psychology.

“But what I can do is offer something in return.” Agatha winked, and if you weren’t flustered enough before, you certainly were now.

You took a moment to breathe. To calm the way your heart raced in your chest. You recognised the innuendo to her words, but knew the connotations likely lay in more entrepreneurial benefits. A promotion. A raise perhaps. The possibilities were endless, and all of them would help you to pay the rent. Now that, you couldn’t pass up on so easily.

“But why?” You asked, quieter, reluctant to admit to yourself that you were settling into the idea. “Why do you need to marry me?”

“Oh pfft,” Agatha waved a hand dismissively. “Not specifically you. This is nothing personal.”

“Oh great. That makes me feel so much better, thank you.” You snarked.

“Come on, you’re a clever girl.” Agatha narrowed her gaze, that teasing edge so easily returning to her tone. “You can figure it out.”

You paused to think, running through everything you knew about your boss. She lived alone, quite happily so, which ruled out any kind of breakdown. She was about ten years older than you, which meant this probably wasn’t a midlife crisis. But in terms of personal information, that was about all you knew. Agatha was a married to the job kind of woman, constantly in and out of meetings, often the last to leave the office. You had tried to outlast her one evening, but upon seeing the delivery guy arrive with enough food to survive the night, you had given up and headed home.

You pursed your lips thoughtfully, eyes briefly flickering about the office when an idea struck you.

“Earlier today…” You began, speaking cautiously slow. “You had a meeting scheduled with your immigration lawyer.”

“Atta girl.” Agatha leant back in her chair, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

“You’ve been putting off that meeting for weeks,” you continued.

“It didn’t seem important!”

“Well, I’m guessing your visa expired. And you panicked, because being deported would suck, so you lied and said you were engaged.”

“Bingo!” Agatha clapped her hands, as though this were some fun guessing game and not a huge life issue that would turn both your lives upside down. “Being deported would suck, as you so eloquently put it. I would lose my job, so god knows what would happen to you.” She pulled a face of mock concern, pointing a sharp finger in your direction. “And now all I need is some all-American idiot to get me that green card. Simple. Beneficial for us both, really.”

“No. Not simple. Not beneficial for us both.” You shook your head, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. “For one, with you gone I might actually get a normal boss.”

“And where’s the fun in that?” She quipped. “Plus, me being gone would certainly halt your progression up the ranks- and where would you ever find a better recommendation than from your boss turned wife, huh toots?”

Agatha was talking with such rationality that it was giving you a migraine. You pinched the bridge of your nose in an attempt to soothe it. “Please take a moment to think about this. I mean is it even allowed? The whole employer, employee relationship?”

“Oh, stop with your worrying. I wasn’t the one who hired you.”

“And you really can’t think of anyone else to do this?” You implored, though you were afraid you already knew the answer.

“I admit I didn’t give it much thought, but what’s the problem? You’re not dating anyone, your family are abroad so they won’t get involved in any of it-”

“How do you know all this?” You interrupted, frowning. Clearly your prior assumption that she didn’t give you the time of day was incorrect.

“I’m observant.” She deadpanned. “So, it’s settled, we’ll get married, live apart for a year, then when the immigration office determines I’m not a threat to the country, we’ll get an uncontested divorce with two of the finest lawyers’ money can buy. Breeze it through the law courts and never speak of it again. You get your promotion; I don’t have my whole life uprooted.”

You hummed noncommittally, finding yourself at a loss for words.

“Great, I’m taking that as a yes!” Agatha stood up abruptly, striding past you to grab her coat. “Let’s hit the road!”

“What? Both of us?”

“Of course. You’re my besotted fiancée and we’ve got a immigration officer to chat with!” Agatha nudged open the office door, storming through the building without another word. You simply stood and watched her go, her long navy coat flapping behind her, swishing back and forth with every step. You momentarily entertained the thought that it was a cloak- that she was secretly an evil witch in disguise as your boss.

It was the only reasonable conclusion from what you had just been roped into.

Groaning, you reluctantly followed your soon-to-be wife, trying desperately to ignore the churning anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

NEXT PART

Notes: ok I need to fess up I don't have much of a plan for this fic and uni work is kicking my ass so my time is v limited. But I've always wanted to write something following the vague plot of The Proposal- the film this is based off in case you can't tell.... so, hope you enjoyed :)

[genderflu1dwh0r]

ChanDean - Boss x Assistant au

Heather is the new boss of her father's company ever since he retired, she now holds way more power than she should and is extremely rich. Jason ended up working for his father's construction company, he didn't really want to, but it was the best he could get. One day Jason was working down the street from where the Chandler headquarters was. He was on break and was smoking as he watched the guys get prepared to take the building that they were assigned down.

Heather was walking by; she was planning on going to lunch with one of her assistants when she saw Jason. She furrowed her brows, knowing that she knew him from somewhere, but couldn't figure out who he was. She walked over to him and stared at his face, remembering who he was. When it clicked, Jason was staring back, continuing to smoke his cigarette. They talk, Heather gave him her number to talk more later. She leaves to get lunch.

Later, when Jason gets off of work, he goes back to his shitty apartment and stares at the paper with Heather's number on it. He sets it on his nightstand and goes to sleep. A week goes by, and he still hasn't called, too nervous. When he's getting ready for work, someone knocks at his door. He's only wearing underwear and has his toothbrush in his mouth, but still answers the door. Heather is standing there, her face turns to disgust as she sees him. She is all dressed up with a fur coat, and Jason is just standing there all disheveled.

Eventually she explains that he hasn't called, so she called his father and found out where Jason lived. Jason raises his eyebrows but isn't surprised. He lets her in, she refuses to sit anywhere, tightly gripping her purse. Jason doesn't care, telling her that he is confused on why Heather, out of all people would come visit and spend time with him. She dismisses him and tells him that she has a job opening for him and will get paid way more than what his father pays him. Jason is skeptical but listens.

Heather tells him to think about it and leaves. Jason does in fact think about it, and after the day is over, he goes back to his apartment and calls Heather, telling her that he wants to check out the job. She tells him to come in at 8AM the next morning. 8:45AM, he strolls in, one of Heather's assistants help him into Heather's office. Heather is clearly not amused and tells him to sit down. They talk for a bit before Heather gets up and shows him around the building. She tells him that she has buildings all around America, that he could work anywhere.

Eventually he accepts the job and tells his father that he's quitting and working for The Chandler's. He and his father get into a fight, and it ended with Jason leaving the house with a bloody nose and black eye while his father was inside, drunk and angry. Jason goes back to his apartment and sleeps it off. The next day he is woken up at 6:30AM by a knock on the door. He answers in in his underwear again and is all groggy, Heather is there and tells him to get ready and that he has a big day ahead of him. She puts some bags in his hands, they're filled with new clothes to wear.

Jason groans and goes to get ready, Heather checks out his apartment and laughs when she finds weird shit, like little dinosaur figures and a Barbie with its head ripped off and a bear's head placed on it instead. Jason comes out all dressed, he tells her that he feels like a dork all dressed up and would prefer to wear a tshirt and jeans. Heather tells him that he looks fine(she's lying, she finds him hot) and that he has to do his hair. Once he's all ready, she walks out with him. They separate, him going to his motorcycle and her going to her car. She has a chauffeur, which Jason rolls his eyes at.

(I'll add more later.. maybe lol)

[bvidzsoo]

Cold Red Iron

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why is she even so drunk?”

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

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

“Exactly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just shut the fuck up—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good, you’re safe.”

“I know.”

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

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

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

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

“Yes, not even a scratch—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, that’s—”

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

“Sorry, Mr. S.”

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

“No, nothing, I’m feeling fine.”

And then, the whole world went dark.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shut up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sorry about that, it was an urgent—”

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

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

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

Blackmailing it is, then.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know you’re Iron Man.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Out, now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t shave, I only wax.”

“But tonight—”

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

“You could’ve said no.”

“And risk getting fired?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll be down in a second!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s gone, bring out the weapons.”

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

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

“Fine, boss.”

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

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

“When do you want to attack?”

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

“And his secretary?”

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

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

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

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

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

I knew exactly who to tell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Give us Song Mingi.

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No.”

“That’s a pity, maybe you should.”

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

“Nothing is indestructible.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mingi.”

“What?”

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

“But you’re my boss, sir.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Iron Man needs a secretary too.”

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

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

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

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

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Does Mrs. Bae know who you are?”

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

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

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

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

“Because there’s a dress code.”

“And it’s gold, not black.”

“Exactly.”

“Mingi.”

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

“And me?”

“Shut up, I love this song.”

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

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[rpwprpwprpwprw]

kim namjoon fanfics that has a special place in my heart! part 2 recs! (part 1)

𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗉𝗂𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗋𝗒 , 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗂𝗀𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗄𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗍, 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝗁𝗈𝗍 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗒𝗌𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾𝗑 𝖾𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾.

Two Years by @jjungkookislife (husband!Namjoon x wife!Reader) completed

Accidental Kiss by @babeejeon (bestfriend!namjoon x reader) best friends to lovers au completed

Don’t push your luck by @btsgotjams27 (namjoon x reader) genre/au: angst | ex college rivals, e2l, co-workers, one-bed trope completed

Under the mistletoe by @btsgotjams27 (namjoon x reader) genre/au: fluff | ex college rivals, co-workers, frenemies completed

Pitch Fest by @btsgotjams27 (namjoon x reader) genre/au: fluff, a lil angst (you know me) | co-workers, ex-college rivals, slight e2l completed

Sentient by @trivia-yandere (android!namjoon x reader) genre: yandere completed

Boss Me Around by @margotw10bis (boss!namjoon x assistant!reader) completed

Rough love by @sxtaep (namjoon x reader) completed

Daddy by @author-ssi (namjoon x babysitter!reader) completed

[buckets-and-trees]

What You Want

Characters/Pairings: lawyer!Bucky x curvy!female assistant reader Word Count: 2.7k Summary: Your boss, powerful lawyer Bucky Barnes, insisted he needed his indispensable assistant to accompany him on his trip to Norway. He also promised he would have you home in time for Christmas, but the weather decided to strike its wrath and decimate international travel, leaving you stranded for a few more days.

Content Warnings: modern AU, slight power dynamic, periphery/secular reference to the Christmas holiday, vaginal fingering, use of "plum" as a term of endearment

Logistical Notes: Written for @sstan-hoe Vee's Holly Jolly Challenge - I was given a selection of prompts including "That noise...keep making it," reindeer, and lawyer/assistant power dynamics. Also my December entry for @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky-Bingo using the FLASHBACKS prompt. Divider by @saradika.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You heard the door open and close behind you and then familiar footsteps approaching, but you didn’t turn to look, instead keeping your eyes on the beauty of the frozen wilderness on display before you.

“Peace offering?” Bucky spoke as he stepped up beside you at the rail of the balcony, holding one of two steaming mugs in his hands toward you.

You sighed but gave him a small smile and took the mug. “You don’t need to apologize. You’re a very powerful man, Bucky, but I’m relatively sure you don’t control the weather.”

“Not yet, but I’m trying to pull some strings,” he said with a smirk, and you smiled.

“It’s not your fault we can’t get a flight back to the States when a blizzard has taken out half the Eastern Seaboard.”

It was unlikely that even with all of James Buchanan Barnes’ considerable lawyering power and money that he would be able to get you back home before Christmas. The main international airports in New England would have to live through the record raging blizzard, dig out, and then there would be hundreds of thousands of passengers to accommodate in and out of the country. Reasonably your guess was that you wouldn’t be returning until as early as the day after Christmas at the earliest.

“I should still apologize though. I said I would have you home for Christmas.”

You took a sip of the hot coffee. “You should apologize, but you’re not.”

He smiled. “No, I’m not.”

He turned and looked out over the forest and frozen tundra with you, the snow sparkling by the moonlight. This side of the resort hotel Bucky had booked the two of you into looked out over the wilderness.

“How long are you going to stay out here?”

“Until I see a reindeer. You brought me to Norway in December. I want to see a wild reindeer.”

“Fair enough.”

After a few more minutes, Bucky spoke again. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat, though? They said our accommodations should be ready after dinner.”

It had been a bit of a feat to find any place this close to Christmas that wasn’t closed or completely booked, but Bucky had managed to find this place that although they said they didn’t have a place immediately available, they had late check outs that just needed to be cleaned and refreshed for new guests.

“It’s a very fine restaurant.”

“Alright, let’s go eat.”

“If that will be all for the evening, I’ll be happy to escort you to your suite, Mr. Barnes,” the maître d’ said. He had been attentive all evening, but being with Bucky on this business trip you had quickly learned only the most excellent service was a common thing for him.

“Yes, thank you, I think we’re finished,” Bucky replied, looking to you, and you nodded. You both scooted your chairs back from the table and then followed the man out of the restaurant, through the hotel lobby, past the bar, past the observatory lounge and balcony you’d visited earlier, and to a pair of elevators.

Dinner had been quiet, but not an uneasy quiet by any means for the two of you. Bucky was an intimidating man, power emanating from him very naturally, but after the first few weeks as his assistant, you had gotten over your nerves. After sitting with him through many lunches, plenty of meetings, taking notes from him on cases and projects, and a fair few late nights, you had grown comfortable around him, learned that he could be easy to talk to, but didn’t strive to fill a silence for conversation’s sake, something you appreciated.

The hotel Bucky had found was an upscale, moderately sized wilderness and ski lodge. When you arrived on the fifth and top floor, there was a cozy hallway that only boasted three doors, and you were led to the one at the very end, where the man unlocked the door, stepped in to hold it open, and then handed the key to Bucky.

“If you should need anything at all, simply pick up the phone and our staff will assist you,” he said. “Have a good evening, and we hope you enjoy your stay, even though we know it was unexpected for the holiday.”

“Thank you, dinner was fantastic, and the place looks wonderful, you’ve been great, Lucas. Have a good night,” Bucky said, and pressed what you were sure was a generous tip into the man’s hand.

All your and Bucky’s things had been left neatly to one side of the entry of the suite. A quick look around revealed that there were two rooms off either side of the spacious sitting area as well as a small kitchen and bar, and on the far side full floor to ceiling windows and a balcony. You had hoped for two rooms like you’d had at the previous hotel, but two rooms in a suite would be perfectly fine, especially since the stunning view out of the sitting room’s windows wasn’t the only beauty in the place. There was a fireplace with a gorgeous mantle with a roaring fire already ablaze and a stunning Christmas tree with gorgeous trimmings in the Scandinavian style.

“It’ll do, yes?” Bucky asked, watching you take in the beauty of the tree.

You smiled warmly at him, then looked back at the tree. “Yes, it’ll do just fine.” The sitting room was spacious and rivaled your cozy studio apartment back home for size. You stepped further into the suite. “Do you want to take a look at the rooms and pick which one you want?” you asked. All the trip was on the company’s expense account, and as his assistant, although you suspected he might be a gentleman and offer you the better room, you would defer to Bucky to actually pick.

“We’ll share whichever one is better,” he said with a shrug.

You scoffed. “No, there are two rooms in this gorgeous suite, I’m sure they’re both fantastic, I don’t mind taking the one you don’t want. Might even sleep on the couch so I can stay by the tree and look out those windows all night.”

He chuckled, low, and suddenly at your back. “You misunderstand me, plum,” he said, placing his hands on the curve of your hips and pressing his chest up against your back. He leaned in to speak the next words directly in your ear. “I’m having you in my bed tonight.”

Your breath caught.

You couldn’t move, and a soft, “Mr. Barnes,” was all you could say.

“Aw, none of that, plum, you haven’t called me Mr. Barnes for months, and I won’t it happening again now.”

“We shouldn’t,” you tried to protest, but even as you said the words, a traitorous part of you didn’t put much feeling behind them.

“Shouldn’t we? You’re smart enough to know I didn’t really need to bring you on this trip with me, but I wanted to. Didn’t want to go that long without seeing you, wanted you by my side in a charming Nordic country during the height of its festive season, and you said yes, like the perfect assistant that you are. I told myself that was enough, didn’t go knocking on your door any of the nights we were at our first hotel, kept it professional despite wanting more and more of you every day we spent together away from the office.”

His hand moved from your hips to circle around your front, his left moving over your soft stomach over to the other side to rest over the front of your right hip, and his right further up your torso, his hand brushing the underside of your breast and resting firmly just below it, bringing you flush against him.

“Fate won’t let me get you home for Christmas, so why deny what it’s dangling right in front of me now?”

He pressed his lips to the sensitive spot just below your ear, and a small whimper escaped your throat.

“Let me have what I want,” he murmured, leaving a slow trail of more kisses down your neck. “I know you want it, too.”

“I – no, I don’t – I”

It was impossible to put up the words of protest when he licked the shell of your ear. You shivered in his arms instead.

“Let me ruin my perfect girl,” he pressed, slipping the hand that was at your hip into the waistband of your trousers. His hand stopped when his fingers met the lace edge of your panties. He turned you around abruptly and kissed you full on the mouth, cupping your face with both hands so you had no choice but to take the heat of his kiss, and the flame he’d been sparking started to catch more dangerously in your core.

He had somehow maneuvered you further into the sitting room so that when he suddenly broke off the kiss, you were in the middle of the space, the warm glow of the fire and the tree lights casting over you both.

Bucky stepped back, and you frowned in confusion, still breathless. He trailed a finger up the column of your throat to the tip of your chin, his blue eyes dark and hungry. “Undress,” he said.

He moved to the couch and sat, his eyes returning to you as he settled in.

“Undress,” he repeated.

That commanding tone struck another spark right to your cunt. You knew you were already growing wet for him.

You toed off your shoes one at a time, then took off your socks – those requiring you to move a little less elegantly than you wanted with his searing gaze on you. Standing aright again, your hands moved to the button of your trousers, fingers trembling since you had never stripped in front of anyone before. You weren’t a virgin, but although the partners you had been with before had been eager to have you naked, none had ever asked you to undress for them like this, like they wanted to see your full figure, not just fuck it.

Bucky spoke your name in a way that had you pause and look up at him again.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You know I pride myself on my instincts. I think we both want this, but there are two rooms here.”

You bit your lip.

He was offering the veiled choice if you wanted it.

Your mind raced with flashbacks of conversations and thoughts you’d had over the past few weeks clear back to the first few meetings with your boss.

Insisting to your mother that your boss did absolutely need you to fly with him to Norway to assist him with meetings with an international client the week before Christmas.

Your best friend insisting on a shopping trip for your fancy work trip to a foreign country “because if your hot boss isn’t going to seduce you, have a foreign fling!”

Your heart stuttering the first time your eyes met your boss’s deep blues the day you interviewed with him.

The same eyes that were riveted on you now.

On you.

You unbuttoned your trousers and lowered the zipper. You glanced down as the fell to the floor, then stepped carefully out of them. When you looked back up, you saw even more hunger in Bucky’s eyes, and it warmed your blood. Looking right into those eyes, you reached for the hem of your sweater and lifted it up and over your head, letting it drop to the floor as well.

“Mmm,” he hummed in approval. “C’m’ere,” he beckoned, sitting back on the couch again, but beckoning you into his lap as he watched your every move.

You concentrated on his eyes and on keeping your breathing steady. When you were close enough for him to reach for you, he held out his hand. You took it and let him pull you gently down to straddle your legs on either side of his.

“My perfect plum,” he murmured. His hands moved up your thighs, over your hips, up your waist, and back down.

“Your plum?” you asked, watching his face as his eyes roved over you up close.

“My perfect plum - I want to savor every delicious curve of your body,” he said before dropping a kiss to the top of your breast. Your hands went to his shoulders to steady yourself. “When I felt that lace of your underwear, I thought maybe you did want this, too.” His lips moved to the other breast where he kissed the exposed skin, then traced his tongue along the edge of the lacy cup, causing you to shiver. “There isn’t any other reason you would be wearing such pretty lingerie, is there?”

“No,” you admitted immediately.

“Just for me,” he said as he moved his hand to your mound and immediately slipped a finger beneath the fabric to stroke along your folds, making you gasp. “Good girl, already wet for me.”

You keened as his finger traced your warm hole but didn’t go in, instead taking the slick there and pressing it up over your folds. He continued tracing them up and down before moving up to find your clit, knowing he found it the second your head dropped back, and you let a, “Yes,” tumble from your lips. “More.”

His other hand skimmed up from your hip, up your side, to your neck, and then angled your head back down for another kiss. Your lips met his eagerly, mouths parting, you licked into his mouth, and he growled his approval. He moved his finger from your clit, but your whine was brief as he slipped that finger along with a second straight into your cunt, stroking in and out, over and over again. You canted your hips into his hand, and you felt the rumble of a chuckle in his chest, but he didn’t stop kissing you. Instead, he curled his fingers forward with each stroke, quickly finding the spongy spot that made you tremble and moan.

Breathless, it was you who had to break off the kiss first, but you pressed your forehead to his. “Feel good, plum?” he asked, and you registered that he sounded as earnest as you felt, his voice deep and a little breathless, too.

“Yes, sir,” you gasped.

“Mmm, sir? I like that,” he said, and rewarded you by moving his thumb to start circling your clit.

You moaned openly.

“That noise…keep making it.”

He sped up his motions just slightly, seeming to feel how your body was tensing up, building toward a powerful release.

“Ready to cum for me like a good girl?”

“Yes, sir!” your answer was more like a plea. “So close.”

Keeping up the rhythm on your clit, he applied more pressure with each thrust of his fingers up inside of you, hitting that sensitive spot on the front of your walls, and with just a few more strokes, the wave crested and rolled over you.

“That’s it, plum,” he cooed as you trembled above him, his other hand coming to smooth unhurriedly up and down your back as his fingers continued to stroke your channel, slowly extending your orgasm. “God, you’re so beautiful.”

He removed his fingers and brought them up to your mouth. You sucked them in, laving your tongue over them. “Can’t wait to see you come for me again,” he said. And too impatient for you to lick his fingers clean, he withdrew them and crashed his lips back into yours.

“Earlier tonight when I said I should apologize, and you called me right out for not doing any such thing?”

“Yes?”

“This is why I didn’t apologize. I was in no way sorry that I had more time with you, and I’m going to use it to take you apart and put you back together all night.”

You would think about all of this later. But he emptied your head of anything but him and the pleasure between you, making more than good on his promise to take you apart until you were completely spent and ruined in his bed.

READ THE SEQUEL: NOW THAT I SAW YOU

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

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[jjunieworld]

BLACK STOCKINGS ˒˒ 강태현

it's a very delicate game of cat and mouse that you and taehyun play. he pretends that he calls you into his office to assign you more paperwork, and you pretend that you don't test the limits of how short your skirt can be until he notices the lace of your thigh-high stockings peeking out.

pairing ‎⸝⸝⸝ kang taehyun x fem!reader 𓄷 iηcℓudᥱs 𓈓 none!

genre﹙📄﹚⸝⸝⸝ smut, coworkers to ???, office au

warnings ‎⸝⸝⸝ boss!taehyun, assistant!reader, taehyun kindaa takes advantage of his position, unprotected sex (don’t!), creampie, office sex, a hint of mean dom!taehyun, some manhandling, name calling (slut)

kipo’s note ‎⸝⸝⸝ saw an edit and i just had to make a little (or not so little) drabble inspired by it lmao… i hope you enjoy! all feedback and reblogs are welcome! ♡

∿ [ 1k ] ⋆ [ continue on to . . . masterlist ]

a sly smile played on your face as your boss, mr. kang taehyun, called you to his office. you had walked into the building with a less than appropriate outfit—button down shirt unbuttoned just enough to show your cleavage and skirt short enough that if you were to bend over you would see the lace of your thigh-high black stockings.

you were purposefully trying to catch his attention, and it seemed like your efforts had worked. the two of you had been sleeping together for months now, and day by day you got more and more bolder. you grabbed the folder full of paperwork you were meant to give him and knocked on his office door. you heard a “come in!” from the other side of the door and pushed it open.

“close the door behind you and take a seat,” taehyun said without looking up from the papers he was writing on. you glanced around his office, particularly at the closed blinds on the glass that separated his office from the rest of the building, and walked towards his desk. you dropped the folder on top of the paper he was writing on and sat on the edge of his desk, your crossed legs making your skirt raise so that the lace was even more on display.

you leaned towards him slightly, same sly smile on your face, “you have a meeting in an hour with the shareholders.” taehyun’s eyes trailed up your figure slowly, stopping for a moment at your stockings and the sliver of your thighs that were exposed. when his eyes finally met yours, they were lust filled. a smirk crept onto his face and he laughed dryly.

“cancel it,” he stated and leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on you. “tell them i’ll be busy.”

your eyebrows rose and you tutted, “they won’t be too happy about that…” from the look on taehyun’s face you could tell he wasn’t listening to a word you were saying. he pushed his chair away from his desk and patted his lap. shaking your head and rolling your eyes, you got off of his desk, the “clack!” of your heels sounding through the room as you rounded it.

placing your hands firmly on his shoulders, you lifted your leg over his lap and straddled him. taehyun’s hands came to rest on your ass and his dark hair fell into his eyes as he looked at you. “you think you’re so fucking slick, don’t you?” he asked you lowly, his jaw grinding slightly. you laughed at him.

“you know what? i do!” you smiled as you grinded down onto him, pretending that you were adjusting how you were sitting. his eyes squeezed shut for a moment and his grip on your ass tightened. “but you’re the boss, what do you think?” you added, voice coming close to his ear teasingly.

taehyun hummed, saying nothing as he stared at you for a minute. he then stood from his chair with you wrapped around his waist and pushed you down onto his desk. papers flew off his desk and various pens and books toppled to the ground as you grabbed onto the edge of the desk for support. taehyun’s lips were on yours in an instant, hands at the sides of your head to pin you to the desk.

you wrapped your legs around his waist tighter and snaked your arms around his neck to pull him closer. he moved to push your skirt up and to unbuckle his belt. “i think…” taehyun trailed off at the shell of your ear. he pushed your soaked panties to the side. “…that you’re a naughty slut,” he finished, his fingertips trailing up your thighs and hooking onto the lace of your stockings.

taehyun moved your legs so that they were now resting on his shoulders. you chuckled at him, the laugh lasting no more than a second until you were gasping and gripping his shirt from the way his large cock was stretching you out suddenly. taehyun held your hands above your head on his desk as he pushed in and out of you at a rapid pace.

shallow moans escaped your mouth and you squeezed your eyes shut from the pleasure. the desk shook underneath the two of you, no doubt knocking more things off. “what possessed you to come into the office like this?” taehyun asked lowly, pulling you off the desk. his lips met yours briefly before your back arched and you broke away from him.

“t-this,” you stuttered, looking at him and managing a grin. taehyun shook his head, the corner of his mouth tilting upwards, and pulled you off the desk. he spun you around and then bent you over it, pushing one of your legs up onto the desk. taehyun slid inside you, the new angle making you cry out.

soon, you felt the knot inside you get tighter and tighter until the rope snapped completely and creamy white spilled out of you. you whimpered, head falling into your arms weakly when taehyun’s pace didn’t slow in the slightest. you knew he wasn’t going to stop until he came too.

“shh,” taehyun cooed in your ear as he wrapped his big arms around your waist and pressed you back into him. his skin slapped lewdly against yours and wet squelching sounds filled his office. if you hadn’t just cum, it would’ve turned you on more. “shh, my pretty slut. you don’t want the rest of the building to hear you, do you?”

taehyun’s cock twitched inside you and just as quick you were being filled to the brim with ropes of cum. taehyun moaned loudly and pressed his forehead to your back, lazily stroking into you as he chased his high. the two of you were breathing heavily when he finally pulled his softened cock out of you.

you turned around, a proud smile creeping onto your face, and kissed him deeply. his mouth was stained pink from your red lipstick, which was no doubt smeared. you fixed your panties and skirt, your face scrunching up slightly.

taehyun’s hands found your hips and pulled you towards him, “i should make you walk around with my cum dripping down your thighs.” you just laughed at him.

© jjunieworld - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

taglist: @jjunberry @gothgyuu @spooksh0wbabe @beargyuuzz @kittyhyuka @dani-is-tired @riaawr @nxzz-skz @yeonjunsfox @rapmonie2047 @soobieboobiedoobiedaboobie @jeonghaniehaee 

∿ [ continue on to . . . masterlist , taglist , request ]

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙you want me to? | LS2˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: logan sargeant x james vowles assistant!reader y/n (she/her)

genre: social media au

warnings: just fluff!!!! i loveee this plot hehe

summary: in which your new job facilitates you in finding new love

a/n: i love this request & i luv writing for logan !!! not sure if i executed it super well tho let me know what you think 💘 my recent emojie now is just: 🇺🇸🦅

request!!!: May I suggest a Logan Sargeant x James Vowles assistant! Reader? Like her job is to get the boys stuff they might need and to like help out around the paddock and Logan keeps asking her to get him stuff as an excuse to talk to her. And people start to notice when Alex and James start lightly making fun of them in interviews and stuff. Just think it would be funny

my masterlist

messages ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, lilymhe, and 188,274 others

yoursername shit's weird

view all 4,183 comments

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*comment deleted by logansargeant*

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liked by alex_albon, logansargeant, and 58,173 others

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alex_albon posted a story

liked by yourusername, lilymhe, and 308,134 others

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alex_albon & everyone knows it too

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alex_albon srry for bullying u

interview ->

twitter ->

instagram ->

lilymhe

liked by alex_albon, yourusername, and 527,193 others

lilymhe vibey

tagged: alex_albon, yourusername

view all 8,173 comments

user12 omg y/n in the last pic so cute

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yourusername my best girl

alex_albon just for the record she is my girlfriend not yours ok?

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alex_albon i would hope so yes

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liked by lilymhe

logansargeant 😍

*comment deleted by logansargeant*

user14 did anyone else see logan's deleted comment

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yourusername

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 254,973 others

yourusername settling in!!!

view all 3,872 comments

logansargeant very nice pic of me thanks y/n

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user16 LOL not james telling her off

user17 y/n i didnt know i needed u in my life

oscarpiastri yup settling in i see 👀

yourusername what does this mean oscar

oscarpiastri no further comment

user18 she's gonna become a wag soon mark my words

messages ->

interview ->

twitter ->

instagram ->

alex_albon

liked by lilymhe, georgerussell63, and 692,273 others

alex_albon common williams W's

tagged: lilymhe, yourusername, logansargeant

view all 6,938 comments

user24 OMG hi y/n

user25 omg is y/n sharing an umbrella with lily

yourusername rahhh 🦅

alex_albon subtle 😜

lilymhe my girl tired of subtle

user26 omgggg

user27 something is happening i can feel it in my bones

user28 yea y/n & logan falling in luvvvv

logansargeant yea i look so cool and absolutely not awkward at all

alex_albon your awkwardness is all part of your american charm

logansargeant im blushing now thanks

user29 my fav williams era ever

yourusername posted a story

liked by logansargeant, lilymhe, and 79,172 others

lilymhe i just choked on my tea ☕️

yourusername HAHAH ok but why did he say i dont like americans

lilymhe idk but he's so in love with you i can tell

yourusername 😭😭 dont say stuff like that

oscarpiastri you better be wearing clothes under that

yourusername oh no party pooper piastri is here!!!! the clothes police!!!

oscarpiastri ur the worst thing to happen to williams

yourusername ask logan what he thinks 😇

user30 omg this is crazy

user31 HELLO?????

user32 is this the most unsubtle indirect ever

messages ->

twitter ->

messages ->

instagram ->

logansargeant posted a story

liked by lilymhe, alex_albon, and 284,293 others

alex_albon AHHHHHHHH

lilymhe omg it's happening

oscarpiastri finally

user37 omg they're dating they have to be

user38 THIS IS SOOO Y/N

user39 AHHH OMG

messages ->

instagram ->

yourusername posted a story

liked by oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 98,293 others

alex_albon TEXT ME BACK YOU HORRIBLE PEOPLE

lilymhe i need to know EVERYTHING

yourusername 🤭

user40 omg now it's REALLY confirmed

user41 my favourite thing ever

user42 SOOO HAPPY FOR YOU GUYS

user43 i want this

twitter ->

instagram ->

logansargeant

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 392,283 others

logansargeant i pulled a baddieee

tagged: yourusername

view all 9,283 comments

user49 omg omg omg

user50 best day of my life

oscarpiastri awww i feel bad for ever being mean to her now srry y/n

logansargeant when were u mean to her 😤

yourusername he's a bully logan

oscarpiastri nooo😨

alex_albon pls dont leave me out pls pls

yourusername NEVER EVER EVER

logansargeant how could we, u wouldnt let us

alex_albon 🤨

lilymhe DOUBLE DATE WHEN

yourusername omg yes yes yes

yourusername I LOVE YOU AHH 🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸🇺🇸

logansargeant i love you 🥰

jv.f1 you're welcome 👍

liked by logansargeant, yourusername, alex_albon, lilymhe, oscarpiastri

THE END 💙