Tumgik
#so i did a sketch of Ruby to calm down
razorblade180 · 2 years
Text
Dragonslayer week Day2: Nerd & Jock
Free time, the evilest time at gym. It was like the lunch room hierarchy but extra sweaty; everyone had clique. Lazy people, the try hards, cheerleaders, and then there was Yang; who sat on the bleachers with her ponytail high, glasses on, and face in her drawings. Well, halftime. The other half was looking up at her muse, the up and coming soccer star this year, Jaune Arc.
Yang:*sketching intensely*
Ruby:*looming from behind*…Damn you really like his calves.
Yang:Aaaah! Ruby!!! Don’t-
The notebook was swiped immediately and Ruby was already soaking up the various poses on the paper while fending of her sister.
Yang:Shouldn’t you be playing baseball!!?
Ruby:Nobody wants to challenge me. Plus this looked more fun. You really like his calves.
Yang:Please give it back…
Ruby:*hands it over* You should charge him for those. I bet he’ll get a kick out of it. Ya know, learning his secret biggest fan at all his games has been watching every play. Down. To. The. Flex.
Yang:*blushing* Please stop. I have a reputation.
Ruby:Of being a wallflower for no reason and choosing robotics when you can launch a football like a canon if you showed anyone? That reputation?
Yang:Hush! You know sports aren’t my style. It’s different, calming. Some might say-
Ruby:I swear if you say-
Yang:STEMulating.
Ruby:Eugh, why are you soooo like this? I like machines but add puns. It’s the literal part that makes the power points cringy.
Yang:You’re just not funny.
Ruby:And your just IN LOVE WI-
Yang covered her sister’s mouth immediately and turned away as people stared. Like the entire soccer team.
Yang:What are you doing!?
Ruby:I refuse to let you stare at a boy for an entire season. I will introduce you to him.
Yang:You two are friends!? *let’s go*
Ruby:Nah we’ve met in passing.
Yang:Then how would you introduce me.
Ruby:It’s easy. All I gotta do is- YO JAUNE!
she flips off the back of the bleachers, leaving Yang to be the only person in that direction. Fear grips her as Jaune turns around like anybody would, locking eyes with her.
Jaune:Umm yes? That was you right?
Yang:Uhhh sure?
Jaune:*smiles* Call me crazy, but I don’t think that was your voice three seconds ago. *clearly sees Ruby hiding*
Yang:….Yeah I got nothing. I’m sorry for my sister. She’s…yeah.
Jaune:Hehe, it’s all in good fun. My little sisters are the same. So she’s clearly just being a gremlin, or you did have something you wanted to say?
Ruby:(Oh good job Yang. He’s smart.)
Yang:I…like your calves.
Jaune:….
Ruby:(Oh good job Yang. You’re blowing it.)
Yang:*red* I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry!
Jaune:So my calves aren’t likable?
Yang:No they are!
Jaune:*smiles*
Yang:…..*raises book*
Jaune:What’s your name, fellow older sibling?
Ruby:It’s Yang Xiao Long and she likes drawing and robotics!
Yang:Can you not!?
Jaune:Really? That’s cool. Do you draw robot designs in that book?
Yang:….Occasionally.
Jaune:Makes sense. I thought you were writing down our plays or something considering I see you in that book at every game.
Yang:You’ve noticed that? *peeks*
Jaune:*red* Yeah. I uhhh like your glasses. They match your eyes.
Yang:Oh…thank you.
Jaune:No prob-
Ren hits him in the back of the head with a ball.
Jaune:Ow! Ren, why!?!?
Ren:Because I need someone to steal the ball from Neptune! I’m sick of catching all of his shots!
Neptune:Think of it has practice! I’m making you better.
Jaune:Uhhh
Yang:You should probably get back to it then? Soccer I mean.
Jaune:Yeah. You have lunch next peri-?
Yang:Yes. *points* Back table. Umm, not sure why I’m pointing; we’re not at the lunch room- I’m really fumbling. I swear I’m much smoother than this. Ruby is the weird one. I promise.
Jaune:Haha. Honestly I’m relieved. I’ve been meaning to say hi but didn’t even know your name. Well, Yang, I’ll see you at lunch?
Yang:*nods happily*
Jaune:Kay! *walks off* Neptune, Ren will kill you.
Ruby:*climbs bleachers* See? I knew you had it in ya.
Yang:I’m going to fight you later.
Ruby:Before that, some advice for my sister? He’s definitely gonna want to see the notebook. *runs off*
Yang:….
Yang:He’s gonna think I’m the weird one.
177 notes · View notes
thollandx · 2 years
Text
The Art of Love
Benedict Bridgerton x Reader
My first Imagine…English is not my first language.
Summary: How two Artists find true love
Tumblr media
I dreamily looked at the dancing couples on the dance floor and secretly wished I could dance too.
But it was not possible for me because first I did not dare yet and secondly no man would pay attention to me.
My older sister became the jewel of this year's season and who would then pay attention to me?All looks of the men belonged to my sister. They only looked at me pityingly, the little wallflower next to the diamond.
Of course, my mother was overjoyed about the event that Ruby became the Jewel, so happy that she also forgot about me.I became the shadow of the Jewel and yet I would make the best of the season. Good if I was not seen, then I could finally do what I wanted!
Even though mother always didn't approve, I still took my sketchpad to the balls.
Where could you get better inspiration than at a ball? Nowhere...
I hid in a quiet shady corner of the hall and started sketching a dancing couple.
Smiling, I drew the outline of the elegant woman, not even noticing how someone joined me behind me.
"You really have talent, my dear," a calm voice spoke and startled, I turned around.
The fear must have been written on my face, because my opposite started laughing loudly.
"It's rude to laugh at a young woman," I replied but then laughed as well.
"I'm sorry, it wasn't my intention to scare you or even laugh at you," my opposite explained himself but winked cheekily at me.
"Benedict Bridgerton," the man introduced himself with a friendly smile.
"Y/N Y/L/N, pleased to meet you Sir Bridgerton," I replied in a friendly manner, folding my sketchpad closed on the side.
"Did they teach themselves that? I mean the sign ",
Mildly I smiled at him and nodded.
"Yes who else would have taught it to me? My mother? We both know too well what the duties of women are. I have to be able to speak, write, read, dance and play the piano perfectly but I can't do what I love...I can't draw or paint the way I want to and that's only because I'm a woman and I have to find a husband just for me", I replied and looked into the eyes of my opposite.
"You're right and I hate to agree with them there. Everyone should do what they want. I think it's a shame that such talent as you possess is not supported," Sir Bridgerton spoke honestly.
I smiled and bowed slightly to him.
"Thank you for your kind words. Goodbye Sir Bridgerton," I spoke softly and my counterpart just nodded at me.
The next day I sat happily at my easel painting a fruit plate that was in front of me.
"Quickly put your painted away Y/N! Sir Benedict Bridgerton is here and wants to meet your sister! Now get rid of that nonsense!" my mother shouted excitedly and my sister sat down like a fine lady should.
Rolling my eyes, I began to clean up my easel when Sir Bridgerton entered the room.
I didn't know that he too was courting my sister, is that why he was just talking to me last night...?
"Oh Sir Bridgerton, my daughter Ruby is looking forward to meeting you," my mother spoke overjoyed as Benedict Bridgerton approached her.
"Um I actually want to meet your other daughter Y/N," Benedict replied and suddenly everyone turned to me.
Confused, I looked into the blue eyes of Benedict Bridgerton.
My older sister made an unintelligible sound and then immediately left the room.
My mother just nodded and formulated a quiet "Of course."
Now I sat here the wallflower in front of Benedict Bridgerton, one of the most eligible bachelors of the season.
"Are you sure you want to meet me and not my sister the Jewel?", I asked to be sure.
Sir Bridgerton just laughed and shook his head.
"I don't care about the jewel, but I do care about you, my dear. I can't think of anything but you. The meeting with you last night, keeps playing over and over in my mind. I would like to get to know you better and maybe we can paint something together sometime? I see that you were working on something earlier? May I see it, my dear?",
I thought I was dreaming, but in front of me was someone who wanted to get to know me and didn't laugh at me for my love of art.
5 years later:
Smiling, I stroked the portrait I had finally finished and was proud of myself.
But even more I felt happy, because without this man in whose portrait I look, I would not be here now.
He gave me the love I needed and the support I had been looking for so long.
"Have you painted me again dear?"
A soft kiss was breathed on my neck.
"I have to catch up with you after all, you have much more of me Benedict," I replied smiling to my husband.
"You are just so beautiful, I can't help but paint you all the time. I love you so much....",
"I love you too Benedict"
240 notes · View notes
whitesandbrowns · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Day 1
1/100 | 17.07.23
Woke up around 6 today. Worked out. Though almost killed myself doing basic beginniner level day 1 workout. My arms are still paining. And i didn't even finish a whole pushup. Ugh.
Had some toast for the breakfast. I watched ruby's video while having breakfast. She is that one person who always makes me wanna do anything in my life with more passion and love towards it.
Then started working. Had good time at work mostly. Had weekly team meeting today as its monday. I am happy to see some progression over packaging design thing. I think we will be able to close it this week, at least from my side.
A tremendously funny thing happened to me today. I dont even know what to call it. So i was working at home till late noon, so after that i thought let's go to my fav cafe to have some mint tea and just work there. So i packed literally everything, went there and then i realized i didnt have my phone there. I left it at home as it was on charging.
But i was like, its okay, the cafe Still has the wifi. I dont need to worry much. I hardly use my phone anyway. But my dearest luck, had different plans. Even the wifi was not working there that time. The owner knew me so she was kind enough to offer her own hotspot but it also didn't get connected. The amazing bad luck i had. And meanwhile all of this, i already had ordered tea so i could not do anything but just wait for the tea to get its flavour and cool down a little bit so i can drink it. But i tried to stay calm and sketched out the cafe, did not turn out like i wanted to but i still did pretty good. Will share it tomorrow
I got home and studied for a while on tangible interaction design and as part of the example there ws this marble answering machine and i absolutely loved the idea. I havent even started the course yet but i can tell for sure how amazing it is going to be. I think i ak gonna finish these courses only as of july. And from august i will start preparing according bhanu's calender.
In my break time i saw this kid on youtube short and immediately fell in love with the parenting. I know for a fact she i gonna grow up to be an amazing person. Kudos to the parents who understands it is an individual they afe raising and not just some part of their own which they need to protect and pamper. Kudos to the kimonomom
and then i mostly slept and skipped dinner as i was not hungry. Thought went out to have ice cream with my dad before going to meet my grandma. She is not so well right now but i hope she gets well soon and gets stronger than ever.
Came home and had a call with my boyfriend while i did a little work and then focused on him, and had a great time talking to him.
Then i did some face massage with gua sha and jade roller. I didnt take a shower today because didnt feel like it. I hope i wake up early tomorrow. Root for me, will ya?
I think this day was overall not as productive. I felt sleepy for most of the part, i need to come up with better sleep routine but other than that, all good. I am happy. Confident. Hopeful.
See you guys tomorrow.
Love,
K
2 notes · View notes
bridgyrose · 2 years
Note
If you're still taking requests:
Ruby goes to get her very first tattoo at the new parlor in town, but finds something awakening within her due to the artist, a certain black haired cat faunus~
Ruby nervously walked into the tattoo parlor, the small bell above the door chimed softly as she made her way inside. The scent of vanilla and chamomile filled the room from the candles and teapot that sat on the front counter. As she looked around the small waiting room, she’d see photos of the tattoos the artist had worked on before, each one more intricate than the last. Finally, she heard the voice of the artist ring from the room she was in as the electronic whirring of the needle paused. 
“I’ll be right with you in a moment!” 
Ruby sat down and took a couple breaths as she pulled out her scroll to try to calm herself. Without her scythe, she felt vulnerable. Slowly, she found the picture she wanted to use as her tattoo and waited for the artist to finish. 
It wasnt long before Blake pulled out of the room she was in with a bull  faunus in tow, a fresh tattoo wrapped up to protect it. “Now remember, leave that on for a few days to let the ink dry.” 
“You know I will.” The faunus said as he kissed Blake’s cheek. “And we’re still on for later, right?” 
“Yes Adam, I’ll make sure to come around this time.” Blake waved him off and took a look at Ruby with a smile. “Here for a tattoo or a piercing?” 
“A uh… tattoo.” Ruby slowly stood up and made her way over to Blake. She quickly pulled out the ID she used for undercover work with a smile. “You’re pretty busy for having just opened.” 
Blake shrugged and took the ID to look it over before handing it back over. “When you’re one of the few faunus friendly places around, its easy for people to start making their way over.” She paused for a moment and looked Ruby over. “Though, you’re the first human to willingly come through those doors without the intent to hurt anyone.” 
“In the week that you’ve opened, I’ve heard great things about you and your work,” Ruby said as she rubbed the back of her neck, hoping Blake would believe the lie. Though, it wasnt a complete lie as she had heard good things about the place as she questioned around a bit, but it certainly wasnt the only reason. “And I figured that if I”m going to get a tattoo, I might as well get it done by someone who knows what they’re doing.” 
Blake nodded and motioned for Ruby to follow her to another room for a bit of privacy. “What exactly did you have in mind?” 
“Its an emblem I’ve been working on.” Ruby fumbled with her scroll and brought up a rough sketch of her rose emblem with a few variations of flames wrapped around it. “Something to help me have a piece of my family with me at all times.” 
Blake took Ruby’s scroll to look at the picture and frowned when she recognized the symbol. With a heavy sigh, she handed the scroll back and sat down on a chair and motioned for Ruby to sit next to her. “If you’re going to do something like that, you’ll want to make it a bit… simpler.” She picked up her digital tablet and started to draw Ruby’s emblem with small flames around it. “Something like this. It pops, its simple, and its still recognizably you.” 
Ruby nodded and looked over the picture of the tattoo. Before she knew it, she was pressed down to her back with Blake looking down at her. 
“So, ready for your tattoo?” Blake asked. 
Ruby nodded and took a deep breath. “Alright, I”m ready.” 
“And where did you want it?” 
“On my upper arm.” 
As the needle started to whir once more, Ruby closed her eyes and took in the smell of the room to distract herself as Blake rolled up her sleeve and the pain of the needle started to radiate through her arm. Her heart started to pound as she felt Blake’s breath against her neck. 
“This isnt too painful for you, is it?” 
“N-no, its not.” Ruby slowly opened her eyes and blushed when she realized just how close Blake was to her. She winced as the needle started to hit a sore spot in her arm. “I’m just trying to-” 
“Relax?” Blake pulled the needle back to give Ruby a small rest. “Dont worry, this wont take long at all. Mind if I light some incense to help you?” 
“Sure.” 
Ruby took another small breath as she tried to relax and look around the room. After all, she still had a mission to do and couldnt let herself get hung up on how pretty Blake was. She never realized her head started to spin as Blake let the incense burn, the smoke wafted around the room and almost seemed to collect right above her. 
Blake smiled a bit and went back to work on Ruby’s tattoo. “You know, you’re not the first huntress to come around here since I’ve opened. And I know you wont be the last either.” 
Ruby paused as she found it hard to focus, her words slurred as the smoke from the incense started to get to her. “But… I’m not…” 
“Please, I make sure to know who all the huntsmen in the kingdom are when I open shop.” Blake slowly put on a cloth mask with the White Fang insignia. “The only shame is that you’re not going to remember any of this when I’m done.” 
Ruby’s eyes finally shut as she dozed off, Blake’s name and face started to fade from her mind. “What… doing to… me?” 
“Nothing that’s going to matter in a few hours.” Blake let out a heavy sigh and continued to work on the tattoo that Ruby had paid for. Once she finished, she pulled out her own scroll and quickly dialed a familiar number. “Ilia? Yeah, I’ve got another one. Can you drop this one off in the forest this time? This one’s different and I need her alone. After I’m done talking to Adam.” 
9 notes · View notes
fumikomiyasaki · 2 months
Note
[ dance ] for your muse to dance with mine
With Mellow and Vivienne (SJSJSJSJSKSKKSSJSJSK JUST MELTING FOR THESE TWO I’M SORRY 😭)
[ dream ] for your muse to wake mine from a nightmare
With Asif and Rubina :) (You did mention that Rubi has nightmares, right? :0)
non verbal meme
Tumblr media
Doing an errand, Mellow entered the pomefiore dorm a little nervous... after all this dorm was known for having a dorm leader with high beauty standard and even if Henry was friends with him Mellow was still worried to be judged... so he clinged onto the box he was carrying untill stopping at one room handing the students the package... yet before he left something or moreso someone drew his attention... it was "her".
He met Vivienne just some days ago but given how special that first meeting was to him and it got him to have a massive crush on her from afar he struggled. Even what she lend him he just put in her locker without approaching her and just left a letter cause of that, but across the room she spotted him and waved. In a nervous gulp he stepped forward to approach her trying to ignore his fidgetting hands.
"Mellow, its nice to see you here."
Her smile already got him to try to hide his face in his collar.
"I-Its good to see you as well, I w-was a little busy so... I couldn't return it personally."
"I am still happy you did... right can I ask you for a favour. My dance partner for practise has sprained their ankle... would you maybe join me for a dance?"
"M-me? N-no, I would only step you on the feet."
"Then its not to late to learn right?"
He took a deep breath but then took the hand she offered. Was he really fine with this, his heart was beating out of his chest just talking to her and now he was this close with her dancing slowly in front of other students, he tried to think of something else to not faint right then and there... but looking back at her eyes he couldn't help but let an awkward smile slip.
"You are doing well, Mellow!"
"T-thank you."
It was like he woke up this morning hit his head and now is in a dream he didn't want to wake up from. Eventually they finished the dance with a light bow, his face was deep red letting her hand go.
"I am sorry, V-vivienne but-"
"You need to go back, right? Still it was a pleasure to dance with you. I hope you can stop by another day."
"M-maybe... I will try or.... i-in doubt I show you around my dorm."
"I would be happy."
For him this was one of the days he was surprised that he actually could speak up that much... even if he left the dorm still nervous and with a not stopping heart pump but... he also left with a soft smile to himself, he sat down in the courtyard before leaving to his dorm... suddenly struck by inspiration and began sketching... as Leroy caught him.
"You really are down bad Mel... already sketching her."
"ACK-- L-leroy... don't surprise me like that."
"I am just happy for my friend to finally approach someone on his own."
Mellow clinged to his notebook and sighed... at least his friend brought him back to reality again.
Tumblr media
Taking a break from the trouble in her dorm she accepted an invitation from Asif to stay over at his dorm, calming from all of Flynns antics and the messyness of it all... but it was also cause recently she got calls from her family again... putting more pressure on her in representing her name... she eventually left the feast early and went to be trying to get some shut eye... however this hope of rest was not granted to her.
As she closed her eyes she found herself in a rose garden... each rose however bled their color of red away to a white rose.... the red trail was something Rubina followed and quickly chased after just to find that same view she was greeted with that many years ago... her sister lying on the ground... her parents as distorted twisted figures behind her... walking away from her as if abandoning her... and she once again couldn't do anything to prevent it. Her white wings consumed the previous red of the roses and as she looked into a shard on the floor her eyes had a similar shimmery red as she cried out...
Just for this vision to be shattered as she heard a voice.
"Ruby? Are you alright?"
Asif looked down at her in concern as her hand still gripped the sheet in panic... she breathed hard before looking up at him and getting up to hug him.
"Again it plagues me... I don't want to remember it... I..."
"Its alright... it was a nightmare... I am here."
"Thank you."
She held onto him for a while before sitting down on the bed with him.
"After my sister... died... I feel trapped... my parents want me to bring the family honor... they don't even remember her... and I am the one who has to be perfect... it drives me mad... I feel like a bird trying to fly and break free but... I am sick of trying..."
"Ruby... listen they can't harm you here... and no matter what happens... you can always run away and stay with me or friends."
"R-really?"
He gave a firm nod. "I can't ignore if someone that beautifull and incredible has to cry so much cause of things she should not be burdened by."
"Thank you Asif... I still am unsure if I can sleep after this...would you um... stay with me?"
"Of course."
He felt her wings move a little hugging him for a while... it was a bit more of a calm breath he heard from her... maybe telling her some stories before sleep will give her a peacefull one... he could at least try.
1 note · View note
imannanuy · 3 years
Photo
Tumblr media
258 notes · View notes
luvknow · 4 years
Text
in another lifetime | lee minho
genre: ceo/iron man!lee minho x secretary!reader | ceo au ; superhero au ; alcohol mention ; blood mention summary: you and your boss were inseparable. no one could understand how you could work ungodly hours for such an inexperienced ceo. but your job was to stick by Mr. Lee for as long as you were getting paid, and that meant being his date to charity balls and helping him turn into the country’s best superhero. wc: 18.9k a/n: rewrite of that one w**jin fic cuz fuck that guy ~! the public has spoken.... lee minho has been chosen as the winner
Secretary was your title, but you liked to think you were more than just that. Perhaps secretary was just an umbrella term for amateur sommelier slash novice multitasker slash the only employee who knew how to drive stick. Whatever your job entailed, you were sure to list all of those tasks in your updated resume when it was time to pass the torch onto some other poor sucker because you would much rather die than be a secretary for life.
It wasn’t like your boss was a total ass, or anything. That was actually the scary part - the fact that your boss was one of the kindest and most attentive people you’ve ever worked for, yet you still hated this job! What made this so horrid was the amount of walking and running your poor feet had to do. And guess what? No sneakers were allowed in the office, so you were left with walking over forty-thousand steps in a day in toe-pinching sole-aching glossy shoes that were half a size too big for your feet because shoes like these always ran out in your size in the store.
“Good morning, Mr. Lee,” you greeted, walking into his private office at 8:00 am on the dot as normal. With tired eyes, he looked up from his stack of blueprints and gave you a warm smile. You don’t know how he does it, but he always managed to welcome your morning visits with a smile that almost made you consider your resignation. “Iced americano, extra shot.”
“You are a blessing,” he praised graciously. One sip of the liquid gold was enough to wake him up right away.
“Long night?”
“Yeah. You know how it took us hours to decide the wall colors for each floor in our building? Imagine doing that all over again, but for a superhero suit prototype.”
“But it’s just a suit this time, not fifty floors.”
“This isn’t just a suit, _____. It’s the suit of a man who’s going to save the world one day! A suit that everyone will lay their eyes on and judge me for my color choices.”
“You sound like a child.”
“An ambitious child, mind you.”
“Did you ultimately decide on a color?”
“Yes, two colors actually. Red and gold.”
“Wow, such a loud and loyal color choice.”
“Is it?” Your handsome boss pouted slightly while scanning his designs. “Seungmin said the same thing. Maybe I should change it -”
“No!” you interrupted for the sake of not wanting to look up Pantone’s thousands of shades of ruby and champagne. “Red and gold are perfect for you.”
Minho’s pouty lips melted into a proud smile. “If you believe so, then I trust you. Come take a look - what do you think of it overall?”
You walked around his ginormous custom-made walnut desk to peer over his shoulder. Minho could smell the familiar gardenia scent you wore for years and it immediately brought comfort to his panicking soul. Somehow your presence always calmed him down, no matter what stressful situation he was in. Maybe that’s why he wanted to have you around 24/7. How selfish of him.
Your couple minutes of silence were so agonizing that his nervous foot-tapping habit he told you about that he thought he got rid of in college broke through, which was your cue to answer.
“I like it. I like it a lot, actually,” you admitted honestly. “I would definitely feel safe if I saw you come to my rescue, although the helmet is a little concerning.”
“Concerning how?”
“Well, it has such a… A, uh… How do I put this politely? A dead expression?”
“‘Dead’ is a polite adjective to you?”
“I mean come on, Mr. Lee, there are two eyes and a flat line for the mouth where the corners curve downwards just slightly and it looks like you gave him little fangs. There’s not much life in the eyes, either.” 
“They light up when the suit is on!”
“Maybe I’ll like it more when I see it in person?”
“The helmet is the only thing I’m confident about, so nothing and no one can change my mind,” he said stubbornly.
“I’m sure everyone will love it,” you reassured while smoothing out the stress wrinkles on his indigo shoulder pads. “When do you plan on starting the build?”
“In half an hour.”
“What!?” Minho nearly spit out his espresso at your yelping and the frantic way you sifted through your massive planner and scrolling through your emails on your phone at the same time. Oh, so that’s what he forgot to tell you! He knew something felt off. “B-B-But I didn’t get an email that the shipment arrived!”
“I called the company at five in the morning just as they opened and demanded an expedited shipping of all the materials and they’ll be arriving in half an hour.”
“But did the quality department approve of the materials? Or your design at least?”
“You do know I’m the CEO, right?” Minho smirked teasingly. “That’s business talk for ‘fuck Quality’.”
Minho stood up from his black velvet Chesterfield chair to escape your nagging and briskly walked away towards God-knows-where. Like an obedient, push-over puppy, you trailed closely behind with a light jog and all you could think about was how it was too early for your feet to be aching this badly.
“I don’t like the idea of this,” you said firmly.
“You never do. Loosen up a little, will ya?”
“I will not! I looked the other way when you decided on signing a contract to collaborate with that ugly luxury car brand, I agreed with the proposal of a new smartphone that totally flopped in the end, and I barely allowed the approval for the development of the new branch in Taiwan! All of those ideas are whatever, arbitrary even, but this? This puts you at the front line of danger, Mr. Lee! What if something goes wrong, or the material is compromised? What if these companies take you for a fool for not checking in with the quality department first? What if you’re setting yourself up to be sabotaged, huh?”
Minho pressed the down button on the elevator, ignoring your pleas. Even though all you do is nag and play by the rules, he knew you were only doing so because he didn’t bother to. In the end, you were just looking out for him, and he couldn’t appreciate you more.
His gives you what he thought was a reassuring smile. To you, it looked rather mischievous “Lucky for me that you’ll be there the whole time, right?”’
“What do you mean…?”
“I mean you’ll watch the entire suit being built while you work. Then you’ll see how safe it is. I need someone to double check me, anyways.”
“Mr. Lee, I don’t think I’m qualified for that.”
“Don’t be silly, of course you are!”
Your engineering experience went as far as Physics I and II classes with a teaspoon’s worth in basic circuitry, so if Minho thought that qualified you to double check his work, then you might have to question his PhD degree.
The elevator welcomed you both into its vacant container. The lowest level this elevator could reach with a single button was the basement, but if the right person (or the wrong person) were to dial the buttons in the order of 4-4-1-9, they would be taken nine floors below the basement to the rumored ‘Super Office’ (ten was too much because Minho didn’t like the feel of the heavy pressure and eight was such a silly number).
The steel doors opened right into his Super Office which he designed to be five times larger than his executive office so he had plenty of room for building up new car designs and bringing his super suits to life for both him and his partners. His successful designs that were once worn but are now retired were placed on mannequins and stored inside a tall glass box on display for him to admire.
You walked up to your favorite one, eyes sparkled adoringly at Seungmin’s first Spider-Man suit.
“You always loved the red and blue,” Minho noted behind you. “Still not a fan of the black one?”
“The black one is scary! No one wants a hero dressed in all black, like that color does not exude the feeling of safe.”
“Duly noted for his next suit.”
Beside Seungmin’s old spidey suit was an empty display case you assumed was meant for this final draft of Minho’s Iron Man suit. Surrounding the two glass cases were dozens and dozens of wood and plastic demos that didn’t work out in the end, but Minho didn’t have the heart to take them to the dumpster.
“Looks like the shipment arrived early!” Your mature but easy-going boss jogged up to the piles of wooden crates and packages that were laid out neatly in the center of his work space. Without much patience, he took off his indigo suit jacket, tossed it to the side like it wasn’t worth two thousand dollars (to which you caught before it hit the ground), and took the crowbar on top of the pile to open the cases with ease. Sheets of metals, different tools, and a cool welding and soldering set scattered along the concrete floor. Minho gave you an excited grin that mimicked a child upon opening gifts on Christmas. “Let the building commence!”
There wasn’t room for any argument, so you took a seat at his desk where he normally would sketch the designs and worked off of his desktop with a heavy feeling of defeat. At least watching the process would be cool, right?
Maybe cool wasn’t the right word. Or watching.
For the next three months, from sunrise to sunset, you spent your day nine floors below the surface for almost twelve hours a day being his little helper. From holding pieces of metal in place while he flame torched them together to feeding him take out because his hands were covered in oil, you did it all and God, if Minho didn’t give you a raise or at least some meal tickets to the executive cafeteria, you might just quit on the spot.
“Done.” With a heavy and exhausted sigh, Minho clapped his hands together and marveled at his nearly-finished product. “We’re done!!”
“What about the red and gold paint?”
“I can’t work on this anymore or I’ll implode. I’ll just take this to my car guy and he’ll paint it exactly how I want it.”
“Not really a self-made suit then, is it?” you dared to challenge your boss.
He pointed an accusing finger at you. “Shut your mouth and give me my food.”
You handed a slouching Minho his box of take-out and wooden chopsticks. While you had a perfectly comfortable ottoman he could have sat on right next to you, he remained on the cold concrete, probably too sore and worn out to even stand up, let alone walk to a cushioned seat. Minho was a man with personality and many faces, but his face of satisfactory upon completing projects was when he was the most handsome. For a while, you two just sat in silence, taking in every detail of the flawless iron suit while slurping noodles. 
“So,” Minho began nervously. “What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful, Mr. Lee,” you say immediately.
“You mean it?”
For someone so intelligent and talented, it was a wonder how a man like him could be insecure about any of his creations.
“Absolutely,” you reassured. “Flawless. Is it fully programmed and everything?”
“Yup. I installed the software and artificial intelligence last week.”
“Sounds like the only thing you need to do is take it out for a spin.”
Minho hummed with approval. “... Can you do it for me?”
“What!? No!”
“I really don’t want to do it…”
“With all due respect, suck it up.”
“Isn’t it reasons like this why I hired you?”
“I was hired to be your secretary, not your lab rat.”
“To be fair, the job description was pretty vague.”
“Yeah, I definitely did not expect to be helping you construct a modern Knight in Shining Armor cosplay.” After wiping your mouth clean of all MSG and soy sauce, you tossed your dirty napkin in the trash bin that was a considerable distance away.
Minho followed suit, who was also able to get his napkin in the can. Then you tossed another napkin, and then him, and this went on until you were left to toss your boxes and chopsticks. The real challenge was tossing the plastic wraps of the fortune cookies.
“Whoever loses has to do whatever the other says,” Minho proposed.
Without hesitation, you nodded in agreement. “Fine, but I will not test that thing out if I lose.”
“Deal. Secretaries first.”
You did your best to crumple up and squish out any air that was left in the wrapped before whipping it like you were throwing the first pitch. The wrapper hit the rim of the can and fell to the side. But that’s ok, because there was no way your boss could even come close to -
“WOO!” Minho cheered, getting up from the floor while you were left slumped in the chair filled with defeat. Of course, whatever he wanted, he would get his way. “Man, I am super lucky today.”
“What the hell! Did you wrap it around a stone or something!?”
“Darling, I would never cheat ~”
“There’s no use in arguing. Just lay the consequences on me, boss.”
Minho scooted the ottoman closer - almost a little too close. Then, like a handsome little goldendoodle with his swooshy chocolate hair and sparkling eyes, he gazed up at you pleadingly before offering you your punishment.
Fear and flattery tickled your spine. “Spit it out.”
A grin followed. “You will accompany me to the ball next week.”
“The Children’s Charity Ball? The biggest charity ball of the century? The one where all the white-haired big shots attend with their dates who just barely turned eighteen?”
“The very same.”
“And you want me to be your date.”
“Yes.”
“Seems a bit lazy, doesn’t it?”
“Lazy how!?”
Not wanting him to see you blush, you began cleaning up the mess from the takeout. “Lazy as in why not find a real date? You know, someone you’ll have a good time with.”
“Hey, I always have a good time with you! And I’m doing you a favor if you think about it. If I wanted to bring anyone else, that would mean you’d have to flip through all of my contacts and have you choose the perfect date for me. So unless you want the extra overtime, I’ll expect to see you dressed to the nines?”
“Don’t you want to bring someone more suited for this role? Someone with much more finesse and elegance?” you said as you twirled dirty napkins in the air.
“If I’m being honest, I do not have the time nor do I want to put in the effort into bringing someone so bland.”
“Who says they’re bland? What if I pick out one of your supermodel friends or like a professor, or something?”
“All my supermodel friends like to toke up in bathrooms and what’s a professor going to do? Lecture me to death? _____, please, I am begging you - be my date? You know you and I are going to have a blast, I promise you. We always do when we’re together.”
A moment of silence passed while you shuddered in disgust. You couldn’t believe you were going to say this, but…  “So what should I wear?”
“Yes! That’s the spirit! Wear anything besides velvet because that’s my fabric of choice.”
“Can you at least do the picking for me? We should at least match in the slightest.”
Minho let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh, fine, I’ll do all the work.”
“You’re a pain in the ass, Mr. Lee.”
“It’s what I do best.”
After cleaning up the mess and a last quick polish on the Iron suit, the two of you took the elevator to the level below the basement where Minho parked his favorite fancy shmancy foreign sports car you couldn’t pronounce. In its shiny and spotless all-white glory sat his coup in his executive parking spot where no other car or person was in sight.
“Quite showy for you, isn’t it?” you accused your normally toned-down boss.
“I had a hunch that today was going to be the day we finished, and low and behold, we did. Soojung the Spyder always brings me good luck,” he patted and praised his prized roadster.
The distance from the office to your apartment was a solid forty-five minutes away by public transportation, right on the edge of being not too far, but not close enough, but by car it was only twenty-five minutes. During your first couple of years with the company, you enjoyed the lonely rides and getting lost with your thoughts, but there were moments you got so lost that you missed your stop a couple too many times and sometimes the winter made waiting outside so unbearable. It wasn’t until you started to clock in tons of overtime that Minho was nice enough to drive you home from then on.
--
“C’mon, _____, just get in the car,” Minho begged for the twelfth time, holding the passenger door open with one hand and an umbrella with the other. He parked his car illegally right in front of the bus stop that so many other employees used. Why did it matter that you were using it while it was thunderstorming and past 10:00 PM? “The heat is escaping the longer we argue.”
“It’s fine! I don’t live too far away,” you lied. “Please go home, Mr. Lee, your puppy must be worried sick.”
“Hazelnut can wait, but I can’t. As your boss, I order you to get in my car!” Though the statement was serious with his booming voice, his pouty lips made it much less intimidating.
“With all due respect, I have clocked out for the day and I don’t have to listen to you until 7:00 am tomorrow.”
“I can’t believe you’re making me break the law.”
“What do you mean?”
The blinding lights of the bus flashed irregularly, a polite way of telling Minho to get the fuck out of the way. But he didn’t move in the slightest. He patiently waited for you by the passenger door, not moving a muscle and looking like a car model dressed in his long, warm and tan pea coat. The patient and smug look on his face let you know he wasn’t playing around and that he’d dare tell the bus to wait until you got in.
“Mr. Lee, get out of the way!”
“Not until you’re in my car,” he shook his head stubbornly. “The bus is getting closer ~”
Your anxiousness hiked up exponentially when the driver held the horn long and loudly, not looking like they had much patience in them and indicating that they were very, very annoyed. For the sake of not inconveniencing the butt-load of passengers and the driver and securing your job, you hurried into his car, cursing up a storm that rivaled the one outside. A triumphant and smirking Minho followed suit and sped away at a dangerous speed, perhaps breaking a second law that night. For those twenty-five minutes (or maybe it was fifteen with Minho’s driving), the car was silent because your reckless boss focused on cutting every civilian off on the highway and you were too busy covering your eyes in fear.
--
“You were so dramatic back then,” Minho snickered at the seemingly-harmless memory.
“Me!? You were the one who parked in front of a bus stop and begged me to get in!”
“You were the one who wouldn’t get in the damn car!”
“How does it look to on-lookers that a secretary is getting into her boss’s car!?”
“It’s not like anyone knows our relationship.”
“Oh please, someone like you driving a beautiful shiny car picking up sad ol’ me at the bus stop - of course on-lookers may not know me and my relationship to you, but they definitely know who you are at the very least.”
“I could not give more than zero fucks of what people think.”
“Yes, that much is clear.”
“_____, you can’t always worry about what everyone thinks ~”
You sighed loudly, as if you’d explained this to him a thousand times already. “Worrying is the basis of my entire title, Mr. Lee.”
“And will you drop the ‘Mr. Lee’ once and for all? We’re the same age!”
“Same age, but different titles and a massive pay gap. You and I are not equals.”
Minho reached over to mess up your hair. “You’re so formal, it’s so cute!”
“Ah, stop it! You’re swerving!!”
Minho had dropped you off and walked you up to your apartment more times than you can count, but you don’t think you’ll ever get over the embarrassment of your humble abode. Of course you’ve visited his mansion just as many times, since you participated in the designing of it, and him having to see such a sad home in comparison is, well, terrifying each and every time.
“Ok, bye,” you dismissed quickly.
A handsome laugh escaped your handsome boss’s lips. “Still hate having me so close to your home? You know, it’s quite rude you’ve never invited me in and yet you’ve been in mine hundreds of times!”
“My home doesn’t have marble statues or glass refrigerators and I can’t hire you to redesign the interior.”
“You know I don’t care about that stuff.”
“But I do!”
His tongue tisked disappointedly. “What a shame. I thought we were friends.”
“We are, but friends don’t break sensitive boundaries.”
He passively waved you off. “Fine, fine. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Bright and early.”
“Excellent. I have one request.”
It was your turn to pout. What could he possibly want this time? “Already? At least let me sleep peacefully.”
“It’s nothing complicated, I promise! In fact, it’ll save you thirty minutes. Don’t bring me my coffee tomorrow.”
“Don’t? Are you on a caffeine cleanse again? You know how badly that went last time - you barely lasted two days and you fired someone, to which I had to convince you for forty minutes to hire them back.”
“No, not a cleanse. Just come in a bit earlier. Let’s get coffee together.”
“Do you have time for that?” Knowing how packed Minho’s schedule was in the mornings, you wondered his sanity for making time just so the two of you could grab a cup.
“I’ll make time. Actually, you’ll make time. Can you pencil us in for some coffee?”
“U-Uh, yeah!” With nervous and shaky hands, you pulled out your work phone and squeezed in half an hour of coffee time. “Done.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Don’t be reckless driving home.”
“No promises.”
Before going into your apartment complex, you watched Minho wave goodbye before blasting music with a deep bass and speeding off, leaving a smokey trail from burning rubber.
“I hate him,” you smiled to yourself.
--
“I hate him,” you said to yourself upon walking into Minho’s office.
Like an artificially intelligent robot that didn’t know of its purpose, Minho dressed in his Iron suit walked around his office doing regular office things, like dusting the blinds and tidying up loose papers on his desk. It was a little difficult to do smaller tasks with his stiff and massive iron hands, so you’re not entirely sure what your boss was doing.
“G’morning!” he greeted cheerfully. “Just taking this baby out on a test drive.”
You had just noticed the paint job was completed on the suit which meant that it was good to go. However, you didn’t think this was the ideal way to ‘test drive’ a superhero suit. 
“Good morning, Mr. Lee. Is this really the right way to test drive?”
“I got too excited when my car guy told me it was done. He did it so quickly and precisely, too. Look, he even engraved it with my signature! She’s a beauty, isn’t she?”
“Yes, very shiny. The gold and red are much prettier than I imagined.”
“Right!? Not too Gryffindor-y, is it?”
“Not at all,” you said sincerely. “Do you want to get coffee now? We should hurry, you have a conference call at 8:00.”
“Yeah, let’s go.”
Minho followed you to the door with a trail of heavy iron steps. You turned around quickly and gave him an incredulous look, one he’s seen much too often. “I don’t want coffee anymore.”
“Why not!?”
“I’m not going out in public with you wearing that thing! You look ridiculous!”
“That’s so rude of you to say about my pride and joy! This also took me thirty minutes to put on!”
“Mr. Lee, we’re just getting coffee!”
“You are not fun at all.”
It took only five minutes to get your boss stumbling out of the suit because the button for the release was hidden under a metal panel on his wrist, but at least it was painless.
“I thought you didn’t want to reveal Iron Man until you tested it and got your seal of approval?” you asked the child-like man.
“That’s still the plan, but I’m just so excited! I think we should test it tonight.”
“Tonight? Already?”
“Yup, and I need you here with me in case I die, or something.”
“And to think I was gonna relax and take a bubble bath tonight.”
“It won’t take long, I promise.”
“I’ll believe it when I drop my bath bomb in my tub.”
In your whole time working here, you’ve spent more time together with Minho at both the office and at his home than working alone. The ratio was about seventy-five percent at the office, fifteen percent at his home, and ten percent miscellaneous, like going to business lunches or simple walks to the coffee shop like today. The long work hours were brutal on your feet and your social life, but the money was way too good to pass. You swore you broke the world record for ‘quickest payment of student debt’ with your hard work.
To anyone else, your job sounded so unappealing that no amount of money could ever convince them to do what you’re doing. ‘So brave’, they tell you, but it’s not that you’re brave, it’s that you’re loyal and as much as you hate to say it, you had the best boss. Yes, he’s a little goofy and yes, maybe a bit naive because he’s so young, but he treated you like you’re his equal and not someone so beneath him who takes all of his notes and takes his laundry to be dry cleaned. Plus when he compensated for your time so handsomely, how could you hate your job? Every day was new and exciting when you were with Minho.
The day went along as normal, from conference calls to lunch and finishing the day with an interview with the press. The very second everyone clocked out at 5:00 pm, you followed a speedy boss to wherever he led you.
“Are we going to test it out now?”
“No, silly, it’s still too bright out! We have to test it once the sun sets.”
You knew that sounded too good to be true. You held a light jog in order to keep up with him. “Where are we going then?”
He turned and gave you a suspicious grin. “Shopping!”
“For what!?”
“You and I need matching outfits for the charity ball, remember?”
“You know, I was just kidding when I said that… We don’t have to match…” The last thing you want is for someone to mistake you as your boss’s date instead of his secretary, but to be fair you don’t know many guests going that bring anyone that isn’t a date, so you kind of shot yourself in the foot when you didn’t make that shot into the trash bin.
“We are matching and I am not arguing with you.”
A defeated sigh escaped your lips before entering the backseat of Minho’s car where his driver would take us anywhere he pleased. He told him a cross section that sounded familiar, but not enough for you to guess where you’re going, so from here on out until you were home taking a hot bath, the rest of today would be a surprise. 
The car stopped in front of a glossy black DIOR building. You expected nothing less from Minho.
“You would pick Dior,” you scoffed, completely amazed at how someone so rich could have so much brand loyalty to one company.
“Hey, they are consistent and beautifully crafted, don’t judge me.”
“Mr. Lee and Lovely _____!” An older, graceful lady came running to greet both of you with a warm smile dressed in a hot red shade of lipstick. You recognized her voice to be the owner from all the times you called to ask about any pieces Minho could reserve before they hit the runway and were snatched up by the ‘I Have Daddy’s Credit Card and Inheritance’ private-school boys. This was your first time seeing her in person and her calming voice matched her mature appearance perfectly. “This piece has been waiting for you ~”
“I can’t wait, Auntie,” he smiled back graciously like an obedient nephew rewarded with cookies.
She led the two of you to the very back where the private dressing and tailoring area was, where the mirrors went from the floor to the ceiling. The store owner walked in with Minho’s fabric of choice, a velvet jacket with crisp black pants and a white button-up that had the slightest sheen of silver from metallic strands woven into the shirt fabric. In the shadows, one would think the velvet was black, but in the light or at certain angles, there was the slightest sheen to it that showed the darkest shades of indigo and green, like an oil slick. You couldn’t believe the amount of detail in the velvet that your eyes looked like they were popping out of your sockets.
Your boss was so eager to try it on that he was taking off his pants before you were warned. Quickly you turned around and shut your eyes, pretending that you didn’t see his KakaoTalk-patterned boxer briefs.
“M-M-Mr. Lee! At least warn me if you’re going to strip!!”
“Sorry ~” he apologized unapologetically.
A couple of zips and rustling of fabrics later, Minho tapped your shoulder to turn around. Your eyes bulged out of their sockets again while looking at your boss dressed in a suit that was clearly made for him and him only. It didn’t look like any tailoring was needed at all! He looked like he walked right off the runway. There had to be some enchantment spell in the fabric because you swear you’ve never seen any man more handsome before this moment.
“I take it you like it?” Minho teased.
Your cheeks tickled with red when he caught you staring. “You look amazing as usual, Mr. Lee.”
“You think so?” You knew so. “It’s not too flashy, is it?”
“Not at all. I think you have the perfect amount of flash. How does it feel?”
“Like a glove. It’s already perfectly tailored!”
“I know your measurements by heart, my dear,” Auntie bragged. “Of course I had it ready to go already.”
“You’re the best.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek and a tight hug. “What would I be without you?”
“Not GQ’s best dressed man under thirty, that’s for sure.”
“Could you do me another favor? Do you perhaps have something for _____ to match? We have a charity ball next weekend.”
“Mr. Lee, this is really unnecessary -”
“I know exactly what to pull.”
Before you could object, Auntie ran to the back of the store where all the hidden inventory was held. You glared at your cheeky boss, still dressed in his sexy outfit and it was hard to keep your glare when he looked so damn good, that handsome bastard.
“I’m not wearing whatever she brings out.”
“You will and you’ll look great and we will buy it, so don’t embarrass me.”
“Embarrass you!? I am not your doll!”
“I’ve got it!”
Both you and Minho whipped your heads to see Auntie running in with a blacker than black satin and silky outfit that was simple but elegant. Nervous goosebumps spread through your arms and straight to your wallet. You already knew this was going to be the most expensive outfit you’ve ever worn.
“It’s beautiful,” you gasped so slightly.
“Try it on!”
Minho followed Auntie out of the dressing room but not before shooting you a triumphant wink. I mean, who were you to deny your boss and the store owner, right? So with ease, you put on the cooling fabric that clung to your body in all the right spots. The mirror did all justice and perhaps it was a magical mirror that Dior spent millions on to convince their customers to buy everything because damn, you look hot! With your face as red as Minho’s Corvette, you presented the outfit to the two judges.
“Oh, it fits perfectly!” Auntie gushed with wide eyes.
Minho stayed silent with his mouth ajar and eyes scanning you up and down like you were a precious gem discovered in a deep cave beyond a waterfall. It was hard to differentiate between feeling flattered and feeling like object, but at least you were a desired object, right?
“You look amazing,” Minho admitted sincerely, no longer looking at you with awe and rather content.
“Really? I look ok?”
His handsome smile shined brightly at you. Whether you were dressed in your formal work clothes that screamed ‘absolute virgin’ or you were head-to-toe in Dior, you were never just ‘ok’. You always had the attention of everyone in the room once you walked in, especially his. You were always stunning, no matter what. Validation from your boss always came easy and calmed you quickly because he only had eyes for you.
“You look just fine,” he lied, because ‘fine’ didn’t come close to how you looked to him.
“We’ll be the best dressed at the ball, huh?”
“Absolutely.”
The car ride home was quiet other than the trot music playing on the radio from the driver’s playlist. Minho seemed as cool as a cucumber, but you were at the edge of your seat feeling a bit awkward and ugh, unintentionally sweaty. Compliments from any man was one thing, but coming from your boss? A whole different level of weird, especially if they weren’t work related! What did ‘you look just fine’ even mean!? Was that a good thing? Were you too average-looking? Whatever it was, from now until you fall asleep at ungodly hours, those words were going to circulate your thoughts, perhaps haunt you for days.
At exactly 7:03 pm, just as the sun set below the horizon revealing the indigo night sky, the driver pulled up to the back entrance of the building that led to a secret elevator that would take you straight to the underground office after punching in the code. A giggling and grinning Minho was the first to hop out of the car and ran towards the door.
“Mr. Lee, hold on!” you whined as you struggled to get out of the tall car.
“Hurry up, _____! Now’s the perfect time to earn that OT!”
“This time-and-a-half pay better be worth it…”
Upon entering the elevator, you were ready to punch in the 4419 code, but Minho had already pressed the button to the top level, which led to the roof slash helipad.
“Why are we going up?”
“We can’t test the suit inside, silly. Seungmin came by earlier to pick up his suit after I recalibrated it last night and I asked him to take the suit to the roof.”
“How, that thing weighs like a ton!”
“Not when you’re wearing it.”
“You let him wear it before you test drove it!? Mr. Lee, that’s extremely reckless!”
“Relax, I trusted he wouldn’t mess anything up, and look! It’s right there!”
The glass elevator made a slow stop to reveal the red and gold suit standing proudly in the center of the helipad. As soon as the doors panned open, Minho handed you his suitcase before running out and tossing his blazer onto the floor before hastily stepping into the suit.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, running back to your frazzled state. He took the leather suitcase from your hands and popped it open so he could give you a glass tablet. “This is for you.”
You looked at the shiny slab of glass with wonder. “What is it?”
“It’s like a control center. You’ll see what I see in terms of my stats and where I am in the city. If anything goes wrong, like say the jets give out, I need you to send a command to manually turn on the back-ups.”
“And what code is that?”
“Not important, we’ll study those later.”
“Later!? What if something happens tonight!?”
“Nothing will happen I promise, I’ll see you in a bit ~!” his cheering faded away the further he ran from you and to his beloved suit.
There was no use in fighting your boss, so you did as you were told and touched the tablet to reveal the control panel. It was black for a few moments before the screen showed your tiny self off in the distance looking down at the tablet which meant that Minho was able to put on and turn on the suit super quickly without any problems.
“What do you see?” he asked you through the speakers of the tablet from his built-in microphone in the helmet.
“I see me in the distance, the battery level of the suit, and all other weird liquids and commodities at one hundred percent.”
“Perfect!”
You turned to look at your boss who was stretching and feeling out the suit as if this wasn’t his 50th time wearing it. Still, he looked so excited and proud of his hard work, it was hard to tease him about how childish he was, even if he was trying out his yoga poses he just learned. 
“How does it feel?”
“It feels incredible! Totally indescribable now that I’m out in the open. And it’s surprisingly lightweight.”
“How were you able to make it feel light with all that metal?”
“I don’t know, if I’m being honest…”
You rolled your eyes. “The work of a genius, huh?”
“You’ve got that right. Are we ready to take off?”
“I believe so. Are you ready to take off?”
“More than I’ll ever be, baby!!”
Before you knew it, you saw the camera’s view on the screen wobble and turn towards the edge of the building. Terrified, you saw your child-like boss get a running start before he dove off the edge and into the sea of the city.
In a panic, you ran and took a peak over the edge, hoping the jets or whatever kept the suit flying would operate properly and leave you without any worries. At first, Minho was but a dark red speck falling beneath the shadows, but a second later, he came flying up at lighting speed doing tricks and flips with ease and whooping loudly, as any normal CEO of a software company slash wannabe superhero would do. You could hear him giggling through your tablet, and like a spectator watching the most spectacular aerial performance, you watched him with a smile on your lips.
After his solo, he glided back down to you and hovered beyond the edge just at your eye level. You couldn’t see any features behind the glass of his eyes so you were left awkwardly staring at his expressionless helmet with those signature weird fangs. After all you and Minho have been through together, even with an idea like this being so ridiculously obscure, he could always rely on you to support him no matter what. He saw how your eyes sparkled with wonderment and how your cheeks dusted a soft pink and it was then that he knew you would stay by his side for even more ridiculous shenanigans to come.
He would never let you leave, anyways. Even in another lifetime, he’d have you by his side forever.
“How cool do I look right now?” he asked. His voice sounded deeper and electronic through the helmet, like he was a robot or had his voice programmed through a phone like Siri. You imagined an idea like that was how Minho planned on becoming immortal one day.
You raised a brow. “You look kind of… scary?”
“Scary!? Why?”
“I don’t know, if I saw a flying robot come at me at rocket speed, I think I’d be terrified!”
“Well, if I come to your rescue, at least you’ll know it’s me.”
“I suppose. So what are you going to do now? Throw a reveal event? Press conference, perhaps?”
“That, or wait for a Demon-Level threat to pass through our city. I don’t know, whichever comes first.” Minho shrugged nonchalantly. “Wanna see something cool?”
Before you could agree, Minho held his palm to the sky before a neon blue blast shot out of it, disappearing into God-knows-where. You could feel the heat from the beam of light radiated around you and fear sparked inside your chest.
“What the hell was that!?” you exclaimed.
“Isn’t that so cool!? Gonna hit some suckers and fry them up like bacon!” Your boss blindly shot another beam of light into the sky and you prayed to someone out there that no planes would disintegrate in the process.
“Hey, careful! What if you hit a satellite or something!” In the process of grabbing Minho’s iron hand so he’d stop being so reckless, you burned yourself upon touching the hot metal opening like a total dumb ass and yanked your hand back. “Ah!!”
“Oh, shit.”
Quickly and haphazardly, Minho landed back on the helipad and climbed out of the iron suit. In the process of running back to your aid, he untied his black silk necktie to use as a temporary band aid on your scalding palm. Gingerly, his cold hands took yours and ran a thumb over the scarring semicircle.
“Ah ah ah stop!!” you cried with tears of pain and embarrassment streaming down your cheeks.
“Sorry! Here,” Minho wrapped his tie around your palm and tied it tightly. The pure silk felt cooling against the burn and soon your tears stopped and you couldn’t do anything else besides sniffle. “Let’s go back inside. My office has a first aid kit.”
Your mumbling and cursing boss led you back to his office with urgency, blaming himself for being so stupid and recklessly playing with what could be considered a weapon of mass destruction. And now his favorite person, the one person who believed in his iron suit, was hurt in the process, pouting cutely and holding your burned hand like you were an injured puppy. This was one of his greatest fears upon completing this project.
You sat on his sapphire blue velvet couch with the bronze-gilded frame that looked like it belonged in the Ravenclaw common room trying to alleviate the pain of the burn in Minho’s ice bucket (for his white wine, of course) while he shifted through his drawers to find the first aid kit you gave him a couple years ago.
“Do you remember when you got this for me?” he asked as soon as he pulled it out from the bottom drawer. You shook your head, too lightheaded and in too much pain to remember. He sat next to you and began to tell the old story while patching you up. “It was your third year working here, but my first day as CEO when I took over for my Dad. I got so many paper cuts from all the paperwork I had to read and sign and I got a massive headache afterwards and I just wanted to eat something because all I had that day was an iced americano. It was so late and by the time I was finished, it was maybe 7:00pm -”
“8:00 pm,” you corrected in between sniffles.
“Ah, so you do remember! At 8:00pm, you waltzed into my office wearing your comfiest clothes with a bag of take-out in one hand and the first aid kit with a million bandaids and Tylenol in the other. That night, you sat in my office and helped patch up my fingers, fed me lo mein, and helped me with the rest of the paperwork for two hours. I thought of you as my guardian angel since that day and vowed to myself that no matter what, you and I would stick by each other’s side and be the dynamic duo that we are forever. Oh, how the tables have turned tonight. Now I’m the one patching you up.”
Minho had finished wrapping your palm at the end of his story. Something about his proclamation didn’t sit right with you. Something about staying here forever, clocking in massive amounts of overtime and being subservient to the same men sounded like your own personal hell.
“I can’t be your secretary forever, Mr. Lee.”
“I know,” he admitted. “But I don’t have to think about that for quite some time, right?”
“Maybe.”
“I hate change, you know.”
“I, more than anyone else, know that.”
Your handsome boss chuckled lightly at the heavy subject. His curly coffe hair covered his eyes as he looked down at your hand and traced small shapes on the bandaid. You knew that he knew you didn’t want to stay here forever, and he couldn’t blame you, but it didn’t make the thought of you leaving any less heartbreaking.
“Does it feel any better?”
“Much better,” you said truthfully as the cooling gel felt like a magical potion.
“This first aid kit is the only practical gift I’ve ever received. All others are for the aesthetic.”
“Do you prefer practical gifts, Mr. Lee?”
“Of course! The fuck am I going to do with a VVS diamond-encrusted chain?”
“Flex on all the other young CEOs?”
“And partake in their pissing contest? No, thank you.”
“You’re telling me you won’t be doing that this weekend at the Charity Ball?”
“When I have you next to me, I don’t need VVS diamonds,” Minho grinned flirtatiously.
You hit his arm with your good hand and he flinched upon his correct prediction. “I am not an accessory!”
“Of course not! You are my beloved intelligent sidekick that all other big wigs tell me they wished they had! But when you look like that, it’s bonus points ~”
“Ugh, your kind are all the same!” you scoffed, trying to collect your things and storm out the door.
“It’s a compliment!” he teased. Minho managed to chase after you and grab your things to carry to his car so he could drive you home for the 1106th time.
--
After a long and tiring rest of the week helping your boss do target practicing with the iron suit on, Saturday had arrived and now you had the honor of accompanying said-boss to a Big Dick contest disguised as a Charity Ball. The main event was for the sake of the children of course, but the real show was to see who was wearing what designer with what accessories and who pulled up in the fanciest sports car with the youngest and sexiest date in their arms. You were so, so lucky to be working for someone who liked to stay low key, despite always being the center of attention.
“Why are you so nervous?” Minho teased, nudging your arm as you both walked up to the front doors of the venue. “This isn’t the first time you’ve played as my date.”
“I know, but it doesn’t get any easier,” you admitted, shyly covering yourself from the much-more revealing outfit now that it was tailored to fit.
“You and I look fine! Muted colors, minimal diamonds, low key attitudes - we’re perfect! No one will even notice we’re here.”
That was a complete lie, because the second you walked in, a swarm of gossip columnists and magazine writers circled around the two of you, bombarding you both with the same questions you were so used to.
“Mr. Lee, who are you wearing?”
“Mr. Lee, who’s your lovely date?”
“Mr. Lee, what’s the best way to lock in that your date will go home with you?”
Minho raised his hand slightly and all that could be heard were the cameras clicking. God, the power he has… 
“Dior, a close friend, and be so irresistible that they can’t say no.”
Without another word, he gently took your bandaged hand and led you out of the circle of gossipers who were silent in awe. With your free hand, you covered up your ugly laughing.
“You’re such a cornball!” you said in between a fit of giggles.
“An irresistible cornball, at least. Now, walk me through all these people again?”
Minho was young and when it came to networking, he still had the mentality of being the CEO’s son rather than the CEO. That meant that Minho didn’t care much in remembering other CEO’s names and relied on you to remind him of all the people he should have remembered three years ago. It was a consistent hour of introductions and small talk about future goals, collaborations, and golfing, all of which you were able to expertly tune out while sipping prosecco and snacking on caviar tarts. Years of experience thankfully made these events easier.
“Did you practice your speech for your donation?” you reminded Minho after taking a seat at the prestigious Table 2. Since the company was one of the Charity Ball’s biggest sponsors, the CEOs were always invited to say some manufactured speech.
“Yeah. I even practiced it in the shower. Hopefully I get the charity organization correct this time.”
“It’s amazing how you even got this far.”
The Charity Ball should have been named See Who Can Donate the Most Money Ball because every speech given by a CEO of some company tried to out-do each other. Luckily, your company’s speeches were always last and your touch of humanity written on paper always had the audience in awe with the Minho’s compassion. To pass the time, you and Minho played rock-paper-scissors and whomever lost had to drink champagne. Let’s just say Minho ended up having the infamous Asian Glow.
His face was still blushy by the time it was his turn and you almost felt bad because the pictures with the flash turned on probably wouldn’t be so flattering in the magazines, but that wouldn’t matter because he still looks like the most stunning man in the room. All eyes were on him as he made his speech, but he had his eyes on you. Probably because he would piss his pants if he saw how many people were looking at him. You gave him two thumbs up for encouragement.
“It is the greatest honor to be here and giving a speech for the third year in a row. Children are the source and future for a better world, and it is our duty to -”
You blanked out for most of it since you wrote it. It was hard to focus anyways when his eyes were so piercing, so you averted his gaze and counted the number of peppercorns on his unfinished steak. At an alarming fifty-three, you glanced around the gallery to see if anyone was actually paying attention. Many, if not all, of the guests around your age were paying attention with dreamy eyes and pouty lips, all wishing they were in your position tonight. Some even dared to make eye contact with you as if to say, ‘how DARE you NOT pay attention to the sexiest man alive!?’ The older, more powerful guests seemed genuinely interested in the amount Minho was donating and the older dates seemed to care more about their reflection on the back of a spoon.
The fattest check with a bunch of zeros was walked onto the stage. A standing ovation was in order of course, and you conformed with the crowd, even though applause always made Minho visibly uncomfortable.
“He throws a big, fat check to charity and yet he still doesn’t like the attention, huh?”
As the clapping died down and the noise faded into the smooth hum of the live piano and jazz music, you turned to face the owner of a familiar sly voice. The man that stood before you was the famous doctor slash art collector slash playboy who you’ve come to know after attending all of these flashy events.
You smiled slyly at the man. “If it isn’t GQ’s Bachelor of the Month, Dr. Park Seonghwa.”
The raven-haired man gave you his signature smirk. Then he took your hand and kissed it tenderly like the prince he is. “Lovely _____, pleasure to see you as always.”
“Have you been doing that to all the other guests you frequent at these events?”
“Of course not! Just the beautiful ones.”
You let out a loud scoff. “You and your way with words.”
“Are they enough to convince you to finally go out to dinner with me?”
“Not quite.”
Seonghwa sighed tiredly and dropped his head as if this was the first time you’ve rejected him. Guess every time felt like the first time. The handsome raven held his hand out to you. “If not dinner, how about a dance?”
Hesitantly, you searched for your boss like you were trying to sneak away from a parent. He was busy shaking hands and catching up with The Important People’s Club, so you didn’t think one dance would hurt, though once you feed a dog a treat, he’ll be begging for more forever.
You took his hand. “One dance.”
“Five.”
“One.”
“Three?”
“Dr. Park!”
“What!? Ok, fine, one dance, unless you’re really feeling it and then we’ll dance some more.”
“Maybe in another lifetime, Dr. Park.”
The young doctor led you to the dance floor before you could object further. For someone not-so-smooth with pick-up lines, he was definitely smooth with his moves. With one gentle hand on your waist and the other holding your hand, you two glide around the white tiles like the Royalty of the ball, and truly, for a few moments, it really felt like you were the star of this fairy tale.
Seonghwa let out a tired sigh. “Intelligent, beautiful, loyal, and good at dancing? How are you so good at everything?”
“Stop that.”
“I mean it! Yet no man swept you off your feet.”
“Just because I won’t say yes to you, doesn’t mean I’m not waiting for that special someone.”
Seonghwa held your hand up high and made you do a little twirl. “You might be waiting for a while, beautiful.”
“Why do you say that?”
“With Mr. Minho by your side twenty-five hours eight days a week, there is no man that has the courage to come in between such a strong relationship.”
“Even you?” you challenged.
“Even I. Unless you want me to -”
“Nope.”
“Ice cold heart as always…”
Song number one melted into song number two and it passed you both as you continued to discuss the hot topic of why you’re still single. It’s a conversation topic that you thought was reserved for nosy family members for you to brush off, but coming from another man who has begged for your number since you both met really put your love life into perspective. Perhaps you were too loyal to your boss…
While engulfed in the heated debate, Minho was desperately searching for his right hand where he thought you’d be - either at your seat or by the bar, but you were at neither. After receiving his order from the bar, he let the expensive gold liquid over ice flooded through his bloodstream, which led him to a group of gawking gossipers whining and gazing at the dance floor. What was all the hype about?
The sight of you in the arms of the world’s most arrogant doctor didn’t sit too well with him. The scene made him see green.
“You’re such a liar!” Minho heard you laugh aloud. “I did NOT give you so-called bedroom eyes at Yuta’s house warming!”
“You’re telling me you weren’t eyeing me up and down like a barbecued piece of pork belly dipped in sesame oil?”
“That’s because you had sesame oil on your white shirt!”
“Excuses, excuses.”
Minho took another sip of his golden drink before putting it down haphazardly and waltzing towards the dancing couple. To onlookers, this scene looked like it was straight out of those cheesy love triangle dramas. The gossipy gals wondered - would Minho punch Seonghwa? Would he grab your hand harshly and drag you away to scold you and tell you how much he cared about you? Would he kiss you!?
You saw your uncharacteristically stern-looking boss approaching, and even though you’re unsure of his intentions, you still smiled brightly, as you always did whenever you saw him. Minho lightened his heavy, angry steps. Even with another man by your side, you still looked at him. How could he be mad at you?
“Hello, Mr. Minho,” Seonghwa greeted, holding out a hand for him to shake. You knew your boss wasn’t the biggest fan of Seonghwa, but he politely returned the gesture anyways. Somehow you felt your heart beating in your throat - the tension on the dance floor was too high, too powerful, and you were but an awkward and nervous secretary standing on the side while two powerful men duked it out.
“Dr. Seonghwa, nice to see you again.” Minho was good at lying, but his lies never passed you. The amount of discomfort knitted in his eyebrows almost made you snicker. “Long nights at the hospital still?”
“As always, but at least it’s rewarding and enjoyable. How are your long nights at the office?”
“Can’t get enough of them, right, _____?”
“What? You’re still doing that much overtime?” Seonghwa asked worriedly. Now, was he worried because you were overworking yourself or was he worried because you were spending so much time with a man that wasn’t him?
You shrugged unapologetically. “I love that overtime pay.”
“_____, that’s not good for your health -”
“I tell them that all the time,” Minho interrupted defensively. He was always like this whenever anyone questioned the amount of work you had. To you, it was not much of a burden at all, but to anyone else, they couldn’t fathom your work hours but if they saw your paycheck, maybe they’d understand. Even your boss felt bad whenever your friends blamed him, but  no matter how much he tried to convince you of a normal 40-hour work week, the duties of being his secretary never added up to just that. Therefore, your boss always felt the need to defend you and him for the sake of making sure you weren’t portrayed as his slave. “But you’re just so stubborn, aren’t you?”
“Only because it’s you, Mr. Lee,” you said like you’re reading a script. Somehow that doesn’t translate through the ears of the two powerful men in front of you, as your boss smiled triumphantly and Seonghwa couldn’t help but shake his head.
“If you ever want to take me up on that date, Lovely _____, you know who to call.” The most handsome man who’s ever flirted with you took your hand gently and planted a sweet, soft kiss that sent little tingles all up your arm. You don’t think you’ll ever reciprocate his feelings, but the feeling of being desired and wanted by a man really kicked up your ego and really made you think - when was the last time you ever liked someone, or someone ever liked you?
Park Seonghwa disappeared into the crowd and perhaps left the Charity Ball all together. Until next time.
Your boss turned to face you, whose stern face quickly melted into innocence as he knew what was coming by the look on your annoyed expression. “What?”
“What was that all about?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
You shook your head and mumbled under your breath, “Ugh, you are unbelievable, Mr. Lee.”
As you tried to escape, the desperate man caught your hand. “Wait, where are you going?”
“Away from you for just five minutes, can you let me do that?” you snapped in a hushed volume. “Or do you need to watch over me and speak on my behalf, since you’re my Father apparently!”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to act like that.”
“You say that every time, especially when I’m talking to another man and even more-so when I’m talking to Dr. Park. When will your sorries mean something?”
“You know I get protective over you.”
“Again, you are not my Father!”
“I know, but -”
All of the attention that was once focused on the handsome CEO and his secretary shifted to the glass ceiling that was now shattered to pieces upon the force of some dozens of masked strangers dressed in all black. Minho instinctively, though harshly, forced you down so he could hover over you so none of the glass hit you. What followed seemed to be too numbing, as all of the stimuli in the banquet hall was too much to handle.
“Get down,” Minho instructed while pushing you under one of the tables. “Don’t move until I come back.”
“Wait, but where are you -”
“I’ll be back in ten minutes!”
“Mr. Lee!”
Of course, he didn’t listen, as Mr. Lee always did what he wanted, right? Which would normally annoy the fuck out of you, but who has the time to panic about what your boss was up to when you’re stranded under the table and shrouded by cheap table cloth linen?
Since those people had invaded and fallen from the sky, you noticed that no gunshots or any sort of violence outside of melee were heard. No purpose of the attack is even known yet, but the signs were promising, until the famous alarm was heard throughout the whole town.
“Threat level: Dragon. Please stay inside until all threats have been cleared. Threat level: Dragon. Please stay inside until -”
“Ah, yes, the richest of the rich gather here today to donate the smallest percentage of their some billions of dollars to charity,” a booming voice tisked through a microphone. “Do you feel good about your good deed of the year? Are you proud of yourselves?”
For some unknown reason, the voice paused, as if waiting for an answer or a reaction from the people. Nothing was heard besides shrill screaming and crying, which was probably what the wannabe-vigilante wanted. For the first time, you peaked through the slits of the table cloth. At the stage where Minho gave his speech was a now-broken stage with the foot of a giant robot through it. It was a very top-heavy robot that looked like it had a large cavity in its belly, whose odd shape probably served some weird purpose unknown to everyone.
“Perhaps you’ll be proud of your donations for once when we capture you all and milk you of your every last penny!” The man laughed evilly at the head of the robot. “Down with the rich!”
“Down with the rich!” his people cheered in unison.
The oddly political turn of events made the scene less jarring - it seemed like an over-exaggeration of townspeople coming together to fight for higher taxing of the rich. Then you were reminded of the Dragon-level threat by how the minions loaded up the richies with a gun pointed to their heads and the complex mechanism that loaded them up to the belly of the robot. Somewhere among the mass of people you saw Seonghwa in between another surgeon and a senior engineer at Tesla before he disappeared behind the walls of metal.
“Hey, I found another one!” someone yelled close by. “Under Table 2!”
Shit. “Fuck.”
Perhaps all those years of advance self defense classes that Minho’s father enrolled you in would come to good use this time.
By your glamorously-strapped heel, one of the masked men dragged you out from under the table. There was no use in struggling, and the man seemed quite satisfied with how you complied.
“Let’s go, darling.”
With your free foot, you dug the pointy end of the studded heel into his groin. Luckily, you can only ever imagine how painful something like that could feel. He was in so much pain that he doubled over and let go of your foot, leaving you to flee to God-knows-where after you stole his police baton.
“Don’t fucking call me darling,” you spat as a farewell.
There were too many men in between you and the emergency exit, so you had to fight your way through like in those cheesy American action movies. A bunch of kicks in the groin here and a couple baton to the knee caps there were enough to get you by half way, but then they started double-teaming on you. Of course, this was much harder, but Senior Mr. Lee didn’t give you the best sensei in the damn nation for no reason. You felt invincible even after defeating multiple double teams, but it was the triple teaming that got you stuck. You can only kick and baton so many groins at one time until two men held each of your arms and the other stole the baton.
While struggling to break free, you managed to knee the one in front of you in the chin, causing him to cut his lip with blood dripping on his cheap leather shoes. After realizing what had happened, he punched you in the cheek as punishment. Was that a bone you heard cracking?
“Try me again, bitch,” he seethed.
Out of nowhere, your knight in Iron armor landed before the one who punched you and returned the favor, sending his body through so many walls of this building that you worried about the foundation and how long you had before it collapsed.
Minho’s red and gold helmet swung sharply and the empty eyes were staring into the souls of your captors while at the same time not.
“Who’s next?” Minho threatened with his super cool and inaccurately deep robotic voice.
Both men fled the scene as quickly as possible, losing their grip and throwing you to the floor. The penny taste finally registered in your brain that yes, you were definitely coughing and spitting out blood.
The cold metal of Iron Man’s hand helped you to your feet while the other cupped your quickly-bruising cheek gently. The underlying tenderness of your boss’s touch somehow healed all pain, or perhaps it was the cooling iron. Gestures like these were so foreign that you almost forgot it was your boss behind the mask and not some handsome stranger who was ready to sweep you off your feet. It was instances like these where you wished the latter was real.
“Are you ok?” he asked gingerly.
“I’m fine,” you promised. “Go save your investors.”
A light chuckle came from Iron Man. “My driver’s already waiting outside. Are you able to run?”
“I’m not leaving without you.”
“C’mon, _____, now’s not the time -”
“Do not argue with me until you save everyone, Mr. Lee.”
Minho shook his head tiredly. He knew there was no use arguing with his headstrong secretary. “You’re so stubborn. Just promise you won’t get into any trouble this time.”
“No.”
“I’m cuttin’ down on your work hours!” he yelled, blasting off to fight the giant robot thing so he wouldn’t have to hear you argue back again.
You were left with a couple of masked minions who still had the balls to attack and capture you as if you were worth more than your surprisingly above-average five-figure salary. Your copper saliva mixed with your boss trusting you enough to not die in the middle of a Dragon-level threat really pumped the adrenaline through your veins, so as one man sprinted to attack, you managed to dodge it and kick him in the throat before he could try something else. The other guy tried to sneak up behind you, but you were quicker, swinging the baton hard enough to the head to knock him out cold. The power you felt coursing through your body left you on a major high. Where were all the other minions? No way was that all…
In the middle of the banquet hall was the face-off of the century, rivaling any and all story lines from DC and Marvel combined. A tiny seven-foot-something intricately crafted and painted sheet of metal was about to fight a giant several-stories tall and several-dozen-tons heavy hunk of junk with dozens of guests they managed to scoop inside. Now how was Mr. Lee going to save the day this time?
“Lee Minho, the man of the night,” the man controlling the ship scoffed. “You will look like my childhood favorite action figure once I stuff you in a glass box in my office! A prized treasure is what you’ll be. How does that sound?”
“Sounds kinky.” You could just sense the smirk behind his mask. “Then what will you do to me?”
“Milk you of all your assets, of course! Liquidation of its truest definition! The redistribution of wealth will come easy to the people, especially with your earnings in the mix!”
“Fine, take my money. But let these people go.”
“Absolutely not! I need all the money I can get! How do you expect me to change the distribution of wealth of the entire world with just one CEO’s salary!? Mr. Lee, I thought you knew that, silly.”
“Ok, fine. You take all of our money and then what?”
“Well, kill you, of course.”
A chorus of gasps and crying were heard from the belly of the machine.
The philosophical man continued. “People like you are the very reason there is a large pay gap. You sit on your ass drinking cocktails and eating caviar and you donate to some profiting charity only a tiny percentage of what you make while all the good hard-working people are the ones bringing the big bucks into your bank account! And what do they get? Small paychecks and four hours of sleep!”
Yeah, this guy was bad, but he had his points, so you’ll cheers to that, am I right?
“Well, then where will you get your money after that? Hm?” The captain stayed silent. “Where will you get more money to sustain this utopia? Certainly not from the hard-working people who have no experience leading or handling such a huge sum of money. And certainly not from you, right? Ha! With your five-figure salary paychecks that barely get the bills paid on time.”
A heavy arm swung to try and snatch up your boss. Though the arm was so large and heavy, Minho barely managed to escape his grasp. By the silence of the once-chatty leader of the pack, you could tell that he was bothered by the words spat by the youngest CEO in the room. How dare Minho mock his hard-earned pay when his earnings were given to him on a VVS diamond-encrusted platter!? There were a couple of times where he landed a couple of hits on your boss and you should feel worried, but you couldn’t help but think he deserved it. You hated to be on the enemy’s side, but you, too, were one of those five-figure salary paycheck owners that are barely scraping by with their bills. And of course you were all for the redistribution of wealth, but this guy definitely went a little too far…
You would think that the sheer size of this oddly-shaped hunk of metal wouldn’t be able to move so fast, but it managed to capture Minho by digging its claw to the wall and sandwiching Minho in between. He couldn’t even wiggle his way out between gaps because the thing was pressing too hard against the wall. Minho could feel the metal bending from inside.
“People like you will never understand the worth of the dollar,” the captain seethed. “Not when stacks come to you in baskets sewn with gold and jewels commissioned by your Daddy. People like you, and everyone captured, need to be humbled a little. Maybe you all can learn a little something from the working class.”
“Then we die, is that right?”
“Of course! But at least you’ll die a hard-working man, Mr. Lee.”
“I will. But I’ll die a hard-working man with billions in my grave before I let you take a penny!”
The blue beam of light that you once cursed for burning a half circle on your palm you were now thankful for, as that beam of light shot your boss up in the air and freed him, taking a few fingers off of the hunk of metal with him. A couple more shots of incinerator beams later, and both arms of the robot had been severed and half disintegrated. Minho kicked the glass where the leader sat and pulled out the defenseless lump of flesh that spoke the harsh truth about the wealthy. The leader was a young man who was not much older than either you or your boss, who didn’t look afraid in the slightest. Perhaps he expected, or even wanted, to go out this way - fighting for what he believed in.
The police, who had been waiting outside for all the ruckus to die down, came in and cuffed the leader and a few of his minions who cowardly hid under the tables. Minho helped all of his investors safely come out and among the crowd you saw Seonghwa, safe and sound.
You thought after a traumatic attack that now was not the time and place to reveal who Iron Man was or even associate yourself with him, so you tried to mix in with the crowd and book it to the driver like he asked you to do before. But of course your flaunty boss wanted to do the exact opposite.
“_____, wait!”
No, no, no, no, no, what the hell! Really!? Right now!? was how Minho read your expression as he walked to you with the suit on. When the seven-foot something Iron Man stopped before you, the face of his helmet slid open to reveal an out-of-breath Minho. The entire banquet hall echoed with gasps.
“Are you ok? You’re not hurt, are you? Your bruise is getting worse!”
You could not feel anything on the left half of your face besides intense pain and somehow numbness at the same time and your limbs felt like jello and over-kneaded dough. But you couldn’t let your boss worry about you - he needs to take care of more important people right now. You’ll be fine come tomorrow once you sleep on a frozen bag of peas.
“I’m fine, I promise,” you said convincingly. “Looks like you have an impromptu press conference to deal with.”
To Minho’s dismay, all of the cameras and press and the phones of his business friends captured his face inside the Iron suit next to his famous secretary that all his business friends wished they had. He knew you hated press conferences because even though you never said anything, you were always by his side and that meant the cameras were pointed at you also.
“I can deal with them. Go to the car and go home.”
“I can stay with you.”
“I won’t allow it. You need to go home and ice your face.”
“I said I -”
“I said go.”
Minho never raised his voice at you ever because he never had a reason to. You were always hard-working and loyal and you always did everything correctly and did it with his best interest in mind. He’ll allow small things that might be detrimental to your health, like all the over time you loved to have and the unhealthy amounts of coffee you drown yourself in. But when the arm that’s supporting your body weight was shaking, your left cheek was the color of aubergine, and you had blood splatters on different parts of your body, that’s when he had to draw the line. Worry was knitted into his brows and his lips were a flat line and you only ever saw his face like this whenever he talked with his father. It was terrifying to see him almost mad at you and it made your heart sink a little that you did something wrong.
He softened his expression upon seeing your glossy eyes. “Take Monday off to rest. I’ll see you on Tuesday, ok?”
“But -”
“I’ll pay you for your time off, so don’t worry about the money. I just want you to rest. Can you do that for me?” You could only nod. “Thank you. Go home - I’ll text you when I’m done cleaning up tonight.”
Minho plastered on his happy television face and returned to the fawning crowd and overly-thankful investors. You were blinded by the flashing camera lights and that was your cue that you didn’t belong there anymore.
The trot music-loving driver hummed the whole way home while driving on auto-pilot, as he had memorized the path to your apartment long ago. Sitting in the back seat covered head-to-toe in the finest satin wasn’t as luxurious when you were alone as opposed to having your equally-luxurious boss next to you. You imagined what it’d be like if a giant robot didn’t crash the party this evening: you’d probably yell at him more about how you needed space and that he was overreacting with the whole Seonghwa deal; then he might try to bribe you with food or dessert so that you’d stop pouting like a child (and you’d totally cave in); and finally, he’d walk you up to your doorstep begging to come inside once more and you’d deny his entry, only for him to leave you with a comment about how you were the most stunning person at the ball tonight.
In short, as much as you hated to admit it, the ride home was lonely. Can you believe that? Your short time alone away from your boss was fucking lonely. Not peaceful, not relaxing, not mind-clearing, but totally and completely lonely. So much so that your heart ached a little, and to put these feelings in the simplest terms, it was because you were so used to being by his side that the emptiness to the seat next to you mimicked an unfamiliar cavity in your heart. It’s a painful feeling, really, because that meant leaving this job would be much harder than you hoped.
As if he planted a tracking device in your phone, Minho texted you upon locking the front door to your place.
The Money Man [01:03 am]: did you make it home ok?
An involuntary smile spread across your lips.
You [01:04 am]: just got home. are you stalking me?
The Money Man [01:04 am]: you didn’t think the phone i gave you was completely harmless and bugless, did you? ;)
You [01:05 am]: i should have known better. how’s the impromptu press conference? are people surprised that it’s you?
The Money Man [01:07am]: they are, but at the same time it’s not. ppl keep asking me questions and won’t let me take the suit off, can you believe that!? it’s hot as balls in this thing!!
The Money Man [01:07am]: shit, gotta go - gotta somehow convince these idiots this is definitely NOT something to invest in.
You [01:08am]: text when you’re home.
The Money Man [01:08am]: yes, darling.
‘Darling’ has a nice ring to it.
--
Having Sunday all to yourself was normal and you did what you always did every weekend: cleaned your place, took your time making a nice meal, organizing all of your work papers, and ended the night with a hot shower and an ice pack to your cheek. Monday, on the other hand was a disaster. You were so bored! Your fingers were itching to scribble down your boss’s agenda and you were so tempted to log into your work laptop, but you knew Minho would chew your ear off for not listening to him and resting as you should. It wasn’t your fault that you were a work-a-holic!
After looking in the mirror and hating the way your face looked for the fiftieth time, it was time to accept that the bruise wouldn’t disappear for at least a couple more weeks. Sunday was at its ugliest, where the center of your cheek was a deep purple and there was this off-colored halo around the perimeter. Now, the swelling went down and it wasn’t as purple or painful, but still equally ugly no matter how you looked at it or tried to cover it up.
After a lonely and boring Monday afternoon, your doorbell rang around 5:00pm. You weren’t expecting any visitors or deliverymen, so upon peaking through your viewfinder, you were surprised to see your boss on the other side.
“What are you doing here?” you asked surprised.
Minho was glad you didn’t seem disgusted by his presence since he was the one who told you to take the day off and you must be tired of seeing his face by now. He whipped out an oily bag from behind his back with a child-like grin on his face. It was an unusual sight to see a man dressed in a several thousand dollar business suit carrying a twenty dollar bag of dinner.
“You and I have some business to discuss.”
“Hold on, let me get this straight - you tell me to take the day off, rest up, ice my bloodshot cheek only for you to come into my home and say I need to work?”
“Yup,” he claimed unapologetically, squeezing past you to get through.
“Yes, please come in, Your Highness,” you rolled your eyes, though he was already setting up at your dinner table.
“Your home is nice. Why are you always so embarrassed whenever I try to come in?”
“I mean, look at it. It’s nowhere near as nice as your home.”
“It’s as more of a home than my place will ever be, no matter how many velvet cushions and arcade games I ask you to buy for the place.” Minho whipped out two bottles of beer, his favorite chaser to wash down the oiliness of the fried chicken, and poured them into glasses. “How’s your cheek?”
“By the look on your face, I guess not so good?”
He adjusted his twisted expression upon your teasing. Blood and bruises were never his thing, so any variation of the sort just looked bad in general. “It just looks so painful… Have you been icing it like I asked?”
“I have, and it’s not as painful as it looks!”
“Oh, yeah?”
Minho challenged your claim by standing in front of you and lowering his head to see you at eye-level. His face was way too close to be considered appropriate for CEO and Secretary relationship behavior, though you knew he never cared for those formalities. His eyes were always so sparkly per usual and that gave him that dreamy stare all the ladies in the office loved. You never saw the appeal to it until now, with only a few centimetres in between.
He poked your bruised-like-an-apple cheek.
“Ow, what the hell!” you screamed, swatting his hand away.
“Not as painful as it looks, my ass.”
“Well, people don’t go around poking my cheek all day!”
“Do you need pain killers? My doctor can write you a prescription for the best one on and off market.”
“That’s ok, I only trust Dr. Seonghwa.”
Minho gave you the same look he gave a former intern who got his breakfast and coffee order incorrect. Let’s just say the intern started crying on the spot. You, on the other hand, could barely hold in your snicker from his death glare. You were never on the receiving end of the infamous death glare and now that you were, it was hard to take it seriously.
“Ha ha,” Minho fake laughed. “Not funny.”
“What exactly do you have against him, anyways? It’s surprising that you’re threatened by the likes of a doctor and not some other hot shot software company CEO.”
“I don’t have anything against him.”
“You’re such a liar!” you scoffed, taking a swig of the ice-cold beer. “If you didn’t have a problem with him, you wouldn’t have acted so defensive at the charity ball.”
“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” he said shamelessly. A vigorous bite of a chicken leg came afterwards. “He looks at you like how I look at chicken legs.”
“Well, maybe I like the way he looks at me.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Stop doing that.”
“You deserve it for acting like my Dad that night.”
“I said I was sorry! I even bought you dinner and cold beer to make up for it!”
“Oh, so this is not because you said that me and you have some business to discuss?”
“Well, that, too.” Minho wiped his greasy fingers on his silk handkerchief that he kept on the inside of his breast pocket before whipping out his phone to show you multiple news articles on the night of the charity ball. “Watch these videos.”
Almost all of them were exposing your boss who was behind the genius that is Iron Man, but what preceded the reveals were clips of you kicking major ass. The sources came from both paparazzi and the security tapes at multiple angles and it was hard to hide the fact that it was you as all angles captured your facial features quite clearly. Headlines and whole articles talked about how the mighty CEO and his secretary were the perfect unstoppable duo and they weren’t wrong - you kicking ass in a sexy outfit with a man of iron handling the big guy? Definitely a story worth selling.
Your brows furrowed worriedly because you had no idea how Minho felt. “Are you mad…?
“Mad?” Minho paused the current video and placed his phone face-down on the table so he could focus on his good chicken and better company. “Why would I be mad?”
“I don’t know! What’s the point in showing me these videos?”
“To show you how bad ass you look! Where did you even learn these moves!?”
“For some reason, your father thought being a secretary was dangerous enough that he decided to enroll me in some classes. I actually really liked it a lot, so I kept at it and I guess I got to a pretty advanced level.”
“Pretty advanced is definitely a misnomer, love. Well, it’s good to hear that Father has made one good decision in his reign.”
“Is this the business you wanted to speak about?” you asked shyly, hoping that the beer was a good enough excuse for your blushing cheeks. You’ll never get used to Minho praising you.
“Sort of. I have a proposition for you.”
“What, that you want me to be your sidekick?” you scoffed. When Minho remained silent with only the same sly smirk on his lips, you could see your worst fears coming true. “Oh, God, you’re not serious.”
“I am one hundred percent serious.”
“Are you out of your damn mind!? I am not sidekick material!”
“You totally are! You and I are already the perfect duo! Why not take it up a notch!?”
“No, Mr. Lee, I cannot be your secretary again, but in a different form and outfit!”
“Why not!? It’s not like I’m not going to pay you for it.”
“The pay is not the problem. The pay is never the problem. It’s…”
How do you put that the pressure of keeping the entire country safe and being by his side twenty-four/seven sounded like your own personal purgatory that you could never escape for as long as you lived, or until you died by the hands of some Demon-level threat monster?
“It’s a huge commitment, I know,” Minho admitted. “Too huge to even put a price on it. But can you at least consider it? I can’t imagine anyone else by my side except you.”
Now only if a man who wasn’t your boss said that to you without any underlying superhero context, you might have considered the proposal.
“Mr. Lee, I can’t…”
You hesitated getting the right words out, but Minho knew why. You’ve been bringing up how you couldn’t stay his secretary forever, and although he knew this was true, he couldn’t help but try to keep you anyways. You’ve been loyal to him for so long that he often forgot how to treat you like a friend and not his subordinate. But the thought of you leaving? Soon, at that? It was something he didn’t want to think about just yet. He wanted to keep you by his side for as long as he could.
Minho downed the last of his beer before whipping out his phone again. This time a slow song played over the speakers. He stood up and offered you a hand.
You raised a brow. “What are you…?”
“You and I never got to dance on Saturday. So dance with me.”
“Here? Right now? In my small ass apartment?”
“The next charity ball isn’t for another month and I don’t think I can wait that long.”
His impatience was just shy of flattering - if only you weren’t so afraid of being within close proximity to him. It was one thing when he helped ease the burn on your hand, it was another when he touched your cheek while inside his iron suit, but the two of you alone dancing in the middle of your living room was a whole other level of intimacy that needed to be hidden from human resources,
You took his hand and he led you to the living room. One hand on your waist and another holding the one with the scabbing half-circle. The two of you swayed in silent contentment for several songs. It was a comfortable silence, but there’s some hidden sadness to it that you couldn’t explain - something along the lines of him missing you dearly, despite you being right in front of him, and you missed him dearly, too. So much that your nerves made you squeeze his hand harder, asking him to not let go of you for a long time.
Then your boss pulled you in close enough that it felt like he was hugging you.
“S-Sir?” you stuttered nervously.
“Thank you,” he began. “For always being there.”
“Well, that’s my job,” you snickered.
“Not just as my secretary, but as my friend.”
“You think of me as your friend?”
“I do. Don’t tell Vice President Chan this, but I consider you one of my closest friends.”
“You’re quite soft, aren’t you?” It took a moment to register that he was definitely not joking. The tension in your shoulders diminished and you were able to relax in front of the equally-vulnerable man. “I consider you one of my closest friends, too.”
“Really?”
“By association though. After all these years being by your side, it’s only natural that I came to like you.”
“I like you, too,” he chuckled, tucking some hairs behind your ear. “A little too much, at that.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“In another lifetime, I feel like you and I would be soulmates.”
“You don’t think we would be in this lifetime?”
Were you hoping to be? “Perhaps. By association though, right?”
You didn’t want to press more about any underlying meaning to his statements, so instead you looked down embarrassed. In another lifetime, in this lifetime, in multiple lifetimes, Minho thought you and him would be each other’s soulmate no matter what, because a lifetime with you sounded perfect.
A thumb gently ran over the perimeter of your cheek bruise and it tickled rather than burned, so that was a good sign that it was healing. A loud tisk came from your boss.
“God, do I really put you through this much pain!?” he cried aloud.
“Huh? You didn’t cause this - those dumbass followers did!”
“I guess, but I was the one who brought you to that event! And what about the scar on your hand, huh? I definitely caused that one.”
“Well, yeah, but -”
“That’s it, I can’t be hurting you like this anymore. I can’t be putting you through all of this danger like you’re my bodyguard. I have to let you go.”
You knew he was joking when he couldn’t hold in his cheeky smile. “That is not probable cause to fire me, Mr. Lee.”
“Really? Dammit.”
“No matter how many times I get hurt, you can’t get rid of me that easily, ok? I go out on my own terms!”
“So strong willed… I almost hate it.” Minho sighed exaggeratedly before pulling you in for a real hug this time. His arms squeezed your waist tightly, letting you know that he didn’t want to let you go even if he tried. “Just make sure to give me a two weeks notice, all right?”
“Anything for you, boss.”
“I’m going to miss hearing that from you the most when you leave.”
You hit his chest lightly, but he caught your hand and held it for a few moments before leading you back to your kitchen to finish up dinner. The rest of the night wasn’t you and your boss - it was you and your closest friend enjoying dinner and some ice cream you had in your freezer.
In another lifetime, huh? Too bad you were stuck in this one.
--
Work has mellowed out in terms of paperwork and actually work and has instead transitioned into more press conferences and meetings with government officials regarding Iron Man. In theory, the meetings sounded cool, but you wouldn’t know for sure, as your boss decided to take one of the newer girls as his assistant for these meetings.
The first time he denied your company, you were only a little confused, but it soon passed when he said there was a lot of paperwork he only trusted you to complete on his behalf. But when he would bring her to every event - whether it was out of habit or on purpose - for an entire month, and her only, it really made your blood boil.
No, you weren’t jealous…! You weren’t jealous he was hanging out with someone younger and prettier and more his type! Definitely not! You were upset that your boss, whom you called one of your closest friends in a time of vulnerability, was already replacing you before you could put your two weeks in! And you knew this to be true when he denied your invitation to get lunch and instead you found him in the cafeteria laughing and flirting with the new girl at the table you and him would always sit at.
For a whole month, without even knowing it, you were slowly getting left behind and replaced for someone better - someone who would actually heed his every word and never argue. Someone who would keep their mouth shut for once. Someone who wouldn’t mind taking order from him forever.
It had been a month since you were living in this limbo, and tonight, the night of the Animal Cruelty Charity Ball to which Iron Man would be making a guest appearance, was when you knew he no longer needed you.
“You’re taking Ryujin…?” you repeated, as you couldn’t believe your ears.
“Yes, so you can go home early if you want,” Minho said as he fixed his bow tie in the giant mirror in his office. He then turned to present to you with an ignorant grin. “How do I look?”
“Why are you taking her?”
“She’s been working hard this past month, so I thought I’d reward her with tonight and have her practice some networking skills.”
“How generous of you,” you mumbled bitterly to yourself.
“Hm?”
“Nothing.”
“Can you help me put on this chain necklace thing? The clasp is so damn tiny…”
Reluctantly, you helped clasp the silver jewelry. While you thought your boss was heavily admiring himself in the mirror, he instead was focused on you and how your face was uncharacteristically stern.
“Are you ok?” he asked sincerely. He pressed a firm hand to your forehead. “Are you sick?”
You harshly swatted his hand away. “I’m fine.”
He shrugged it off, thinking that you probably had a bad week with all of the boring work he’s been having you deal with. A lot of weird and unsettling energy was pent up inside of you for the past month, so before you exited Minho’s office for the weekend, for some reason you thought this was the appropriate time to speak on it.
“Actually, I’m not fine,” you blurted out. Minho gave you his full attention for the first time that month. “I… I’m putting in my two weeks.”
His eyes went wide. “What?”
“I’m giving you my two weeks notice.”
“Do you have a job lined up?”
“No, but I will figure that out later.”
“You don’t have another job lined up but you want to quit? Where is this coming from?”
He didn’t sound angry. He wasn’t - he was more hurt than anything else that you wanted to leave without a proper explanation. He thought you and him were doing well… What changed so suddenly?
“I can’t do this anymore,” Minho noted how your voice was shaking. “I was fine when you had me staying ungodly hours, I was fine when you had me get you coffee every morning and your dry cleaning every Monday, and I was fine when you involved with the Iron Man project, but now all you’ve given me lately is paperwork and shit that the new hires should be doing and not myself!”
“_____, language -”
“And why is that? Why do I feel like I’m starting to get left behind already, or-or why do I feel like you don’t appreciate anything I do!? It’s clear to me that you’ve already begun to replace me, so what’s the use of me staying here when you don’t want me anymore?”
Minho was silent. You couldn’t tell if he was angry or sad or surprised at your sudden outburst. The tension in the room was suffocating and his silence even more so, like this was his ideal form of psychological torture. Minho didn’t seem to care for your feelings anymore as he turned back to face the mirror.
“Your two weeks has been noted,” was all he said.
You left the room in tears, with your blood still boiling and your heart crushed. But this was a good thing. In the end, this would be a good thing, is what you were trying to tell yourself, because this lifetime wouldn’t let you be with Minho.
--
Another month passed by and you were left in a worse limbo than you began with a month and a half ago. No one was contacting you about any job offers so you were left to ‘self-reflect’ or some bullshit this self-help book told you to do for the past two weeks. Luckily, all the overtime you put into your savings account had vastly accumulated into an unthinkable sum that would support you far beyond whatever the government noted as a proper unemployment time. Like, you didn’t even know what to do with the money sometimes - thank Minho for time-and-a-half, huh?
On days where you couldn’t help yourself - when you felt like torturing yourself - you would look up Minho on all the tabloid sites. Surprisingly enough, this happened way more than you’d like. Of course, as you speculated, Ryujin had quickly taken your spot as his secretary and God, did you like to shit on how terrible she was! You didn’t have to be at the office to know that Minho must be frustrated with her by the crookedness of his ties and jackets and how she must have forgotten to schedule a salon appointment by the look of his roots and unruly brows.
Ha! That’s what he fucking gets for not being grateful! That dick!
What a shame your relationship with him had come to. To spend what felt like an entire lifetime with him to being complete strangers, it was like you were reborn into this new and fresh carefree person. So carefree that you hummed on the way home with a bag full of fresh produce from the local market.
Perhaps you should have been less carefree, as a stranger snuck up behind you and knocked you out cold.
--
“Ryujin, where’s my document-signing pen?”
“Um, in your drawer?”
“Which drawer?”
“The one with all the other pens…?”
Minho sighed loudly, running a hand through his curly locks and staring intently at the mess of papers that scattered on his desk. His desk hadn’t been this messy since the first day he started when he had to sign all of those official documents that transitioned him to CEO. The same day when he fell for you.
Ryujin, who was nothing close to a secretary compared to you, was only getting on his nerves these days. Perhaps yes, he’s been a little too harsh on someone who’s still fairly new, but in truth he just didn’t have a way to express his frustration about you leaving all of a sudden. Where had he gone wrong?
“Take the rest of the night off,” he told his subordinate.
The poor girl bowed obediently and scurried out the room.
Another sign left the young man’s lips. This time it was because he was tired. He couldn’t deal with anymore bullshit tonight.
An anonymous FaceTime call rang his phone. Who could be wanting to FaceTime him at such an odd hour of the weeknight?
When he swiped to answer, all he saw was you tied up roughly to a splintered chair with tape covering your mouth. Minho nearly dropped his phone.
“Good evening, Mr. Lee,” a familiar voice sang. From the shadows behind you emerged the fake vigilante that led the invasion of the Charity Ball. “I see that you’re doing well.”
“What do you want?” he demanded quietly.
“I think you know what I want.” A shiny knife drew a line across the other cheek, small drops of blood seeping through and mixing with the dried tears and dirt. Minho’s heart felt like it was collapsing. “A blank check addressed to little ol’ me.”
“If I see another scar on them, I’ll kill you,” he threatened.
The man held his hands up high in defensive mode and took a step away from you. “Fine, I won’t touch them! Just give me what we want near the docks.”
“I’m on my way.”
“Oh, and one more thing - come dressed in Iron Man and I’ll slice their throat. Bye!”
The line cut dead and Minho had no choice but to leave empty-handed with only a blank check in his pocket.
The air inside the enclosed cargo bed was hot and suffocating and your rising panic did not ease your pain or heavy breathing one bit. It didn’t help that the guy and his minions were playing with your hair and playing with their knives, dragging the dull edges on your arms and neck. Normally, you wouldn’t be so weak and crying to the point that the tape around your mouth was loosening up, but life these days was tough and perhaps an event like this, causing Minho major inconvenience once again, was what you deserved.
Scurrying and uneven footsteps were heard from outside and you really, really hoped it was Minho not dressed in Iron Man.
“Here already? He must like you,” the leader teased.
The back of the cargo bed opened up to reveal that the sun had fallen a long time ago and the light of the moon outlined your plain and simple hero. He didn’t give the leader a second passing glance before blindly shoving the blank check to his chest and rushing by your side to untie you. First, he ripped off the tape and you let out loud gasps of air and cries.
Minho’s shaking hands take hold of your face to try to calm you down. “Hey hey, shh, I’m here. Are you ok? Are you hurt?” You shook your head vigorously, whining and trying to break free from the ropes tying you down. “Hold on, I got you.”
Before Minho could untie your hands, one of the minions hit him on the back of his head the same way they knocked you out. But your boss was stronger than that - his head was harder than his iron helmet. At the failed attempt, Minho hurled the guy over his shoulder and out the cargo bed. Your bad ass boss got up like it was nothing, but he was breathing heavily.
Not because he was tired or weak, but because he was furious.
Three more guys tried to kick his ass and it was then you realized that your boss wasn’t just some fake hiding behind an iron suit who could program it to fight. He truly was kicking their ass! Like, raw strength and all! If you weren’t scared to death, you might have thought this was kind of hot. But then Minho punched one of the guys too hard and it sent him flying over to you, to which you fell over and broke the chair. The rope was no longer tied to anything and you were free.
Yet another one of the lame-o sidekicks tried to capture you again, but now you were equally as furious, if not more, than your partner in crime. How dare they sneak up on you and not even give you a chance to fight back!? That was the definition of a weak-ass group of villains! So of course you had to show them a lesson and kick a few balls and some asses. But the number of asses was infinite and you were getting really tired. They had enough people to fight you and Minho until you couldn’t keep up and then they’d kill you easily.
“Mr. Lee, now would be a good time for one of your brilliant plans!” you begged between kicks and breaths.
“Ten seconds tops. But when I say so, I need you to hold my hand, ok?”
“What!? What are you planning!?”
“Just trust me!” You and Minho saw the leader direct the last ten of his minions to finish the job. “Ready? Three… two… one!”
A heavy force on the outside pushed the cargo bed off the edge of the pier and into the ocean with the purpose of drowning everyone in it. The only sensation you felt was ice cold water freezing your blood flow and Minho grasping your hand for dear life while trying to swim up to the surface. Before blacking out from lack of oxygen, you felt the ripples of something entering the ocean and saw a faded red and golden glow of light. Not a second later, a hollowed Iron Man on autopilot rushed you and Minho to the surface and placed you gently on the sand just under the pier. The silent night was filled with a chorus of ugly coughing fits from you and your boss. What a wonderful CEO slash ex-secretary couples activity this turned out to be.
As soon as your breathing returned to a rhythmic beat, a wet, crying, sand-covered Minho held your face in his still-trembling hands. He didn’t say a word - he simply held you and pressed his forehead to yours, making sure that yes, this was real, and not some unconscious dream where he was still in the middle of the ocean drowning. Yes, you were there with him and you were alive.
“Why are you crying? I was the one kidnapped,” you joked, hoping it’d lighten up the mood if but a little bit.
Minho laughed between sniffles and shivers, but couldn’t stop crying. He was smiling, but still crying, and if that didn’t perfectly depict this situation, you’re not sure there’s anything out there that did. Haphazardly, he planted a cold kiss on your forehead before pulling you into a hug.
“I’m so happy you’re ok,” he whispered. “I’m so, so sorry.”
“Why? You had nothing to do with this.”
“I’m just sorry in general. I’m sorry I took you for granted. I’m sorry for making you feel like I was replacing you. I’m sorry for not buying you that cappuccino three years ago. I’m sorry for -”
What’s the only way to silence your sexy boss in a heartfelt moment like this that would complete this superhero plot line? Kissing him mid-sentence, of course. You kissed your loving boss fully, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your whole body into it. It took him a while to register that yes, his secretary was definitely kissing him, but once it did, he kissed you even harder, enough to make you fall back onto the grass with him on top of you.
You’re left breathless the moment your lips parted. “I-I, uh, I forgive you…”
“How could you ever think that I could replace you?” he muttered. “I could never. Not in this lifetime.”
“You also said that me and you wouldn’t happen in this lifetime,” you challenged.
“Lifetimes can merge into one, I guess.”
Iron Man returned to Minho’s basement as soon as his job was done, so your favorite driver picked you two up in ten minutes with plush hot towels and dry clothes to change into. The pajamas you wore already had your initials monogrammed over your heart.
“Yeah, uh, about that,” Minho began awkwardly on the car ride home. “I was going to gift them to you a couple Christmases ago, but you said that monogrammed clothing was cheesy and stupid, so I abstained…”
“... They’re not so bad,” you admitted truthfully. “Very soft.”
Coming home to Minho’s felt so wrong, yet so right. You’ve only ever been inside for business reasons, such as redesigning his closets and kitchen pantry, but now that you were here on leisure - well, after almost fucking dying - it was kind of weird. But Minho holding your hand reassured you that you were wanted here - that he needed you here, damp with salt water and all.
“Take a shower upstairs. I’ll go make some tea.”
You gladly obeyed, using your favorite shower that you helped design. The door and the walls of the shower were made of glass and the shower head hung from the ceiling, making your long, hot shower feel like it was raining. Your body was covered in cuts and bruises and it was really ugly, but you’ve never felt more badass and in control in your entire life.
You left the shower smelling like orchids and eucalyptus and entered the kitchen that smelled like ginger and honey. Minho, who had also showered, followed shortly after, stealing a kiss on your cheek that was cut up earlier that evening.
You followed Minho to his giant marble island while he poured tea into white mugs on the other side. This felt so… domestic. This felt so right. This felt like home.
“I have a business proposition for you,” he smirked slyly.
Well, that ruined the moment. “What, no ‘how have you been the past month since I replaced you with some other chick’?”
“I promise I’ll ask that after, but I need to ask you this.” Your hard-headed boss was all giddy just at the idea of it and it was the first time in a whole month since you’ve seen him smile like this. He was so, so cute.
“Fine, what is it?”
“I want to hire you back.”
“Mr. Lee, I already told you, I can’t -”
“As the Head Director of the Iron Man project.”
Your eyes widened at the prestigious title. “Head Director?”
“You stayed by my side through all the criticism and the praise and I can’t imagine a better person for the position.”
“So it’s not just a fancy title for like, super mega ultra secretary, right…?”
Your handsome man chuckled. “No, I promise.”
“Head Director, huh?” your lips slowly spread into a grin. “I like the sound of that.”
“Is that a yes?”
“On a few conditions.”
“Hit me.”
“Higher pay with time-and-a-half.”
“Obviously.”
“I get my own secretary.”
“Only if you don’t fall in love with them like I did.”
You rolled your eyes and continued. “An extra week of vacation.”
“You’re pushing it.”
“Last one. I’m your date to every event from now on.”
Minho raised his eyebrow teasingly. “Oh? And if I say no?”
“Then I say no.”
“Jeez, I’m kidding! So strict. Of course you can, on two conditions.”
“Fine.”
“You call me Minho from now on. Or boyfriend, or soulmate, or sexiest man alive, or whatever suits your fancy.”
“Deal.”
“Second,” Minho leaned in and puckered his pink lips. “Seal this with a kiss.”
You start your new job next week - after Minho cashed in one week of vacation to spend with his soulmate.
599 notes · View notes
alice-angel12x · 3 years
Text
Vil x Reader x Neige
I don't know how I fell for him, that siren from the small kingdom of Prenia. I first meet them when I was young back in my home town. After Jack scared off some daft children who couldn't separate fantasy from reality.  They were really convinced that I was a villain from my performance, so many would bully me because of it.
Even so, I meet Y/n on my way to town. They were strolling on the sidewalk with a large basket selling flowers and other hand made trinkets. It was hard not to notice them with their beautiful large owl-like wings and pretty face. I may have stared for too long as they soon noticed me, and with a calm expression, they quickly jogged over to me.
"Hello, umm... My name is Y/n L/n. Umm... I saw your school performance a few days ago and I wanted to give you something, you were amazing," They said as they handed me a beautiful blue-purple flower.
It looked similar to a tulip, at the center of the flower bud had a faint glow of magic. It was a rare flower indeed.
"Thank you, I appreciate your gift and support," I said to them with a small smile.
"You were so good, I don't understand why you're being bullied for your role," Y/n wondered aloud.
"Those kids just can't separate fantasy from reality," Vil sighed in annoyance.
"Are most human youths that gullible?" Y/n asked curiously.
"No It's just my acting was that convincing," I said with pride.
"Well, I can't wait to see what role you'll play next," They said as flew off.
Every school Drama and play I was in, If I looked hard enough I could always find them in the back of the audience. I considered them my first ever fan, maybe that's why I treasure them?
After a while, I forgot about them as my popularity and career took off. I received many fans letters and gifts so they faded from my mind; till one day they were sorted in Pomefiore with me. Y/n was beautiful, but his pride and work went all into his crafts, from paintings to sculpture, everyone in the dorm could tell they were a master artist in the making.
I couldn't help but feel pride when I tended to be his main muse of inspiration. when I became Dorm head in my second year, Y/n came to me with a gift they made themselves, A crown fit for me.
Tumblr media
"You were amazing as always, I was inspired to make this as congrats," Y/n smiled kindly and professionally.
Their complements were kind and respectful, not flirtatious and desperate like cater, or odd and obsessively strange like Rook. When I gave speeches at the Dorm I could see Y/n in the back sketching away, as they occasionally looked up to study my beautiful features. I could always tell I was the apple of their eyes. Yet lately they've been distant from me, they never look at me quite the same. They looked as if they're distracted by something... Something far away.
-----------
What do I have to do for them to notice my feelings for them? Y/n and I were best friends in our childhood. My parents ran a charity business and would raise funds for the poor Kingdom of  Prenia often. A kingdom inhabited by beautiful winged sirens.
I meet them one day when my family vacationed in the kingdom. I was wondering about the forest on a tall hill when my foot got caught on something. Causing me to fall to the side, I would have gravely hurt myself if it wasn't for the arrival of my hero. Y/n swooped out of know where and caught me before I could hit the ground.
"Are you alright?" They asked as they stared down at me with their kind e/c eyes.
"Y-yes,"  I stuttered as my heart fluttered in my chest.
"You should really be more careful, it's not safe to wonder these parts without wings," Y/n said as they flew me back to my hotel.
"I-I am sorry, but how did you know I was here?" I asked.
"The owls told me," Y/n answered simply," If you want to explore high places, just ask me and I can fly you over."
"Alright I'll keep that in mind, but how do I contact you?" I asked.
"Just tell the owls, and I'll come," Y/n smiled sweetly as they flew off.
From that day on, we started to spend more and more time together and even became good friends. On one of my birthdays, they showed off their crafts skills by making a beautiful crystal and ruby apple for my gift.
Tumblr media
       "It's beautiful, thank you Y/n-chan," I thanked as I awed the creation.
"I'm glad you like it, sweet Neige" Y/n smiled sweetly.
It sucked that I couldn't see them in person when my career took off along with schooling in RSA, while they were studying at NRC. Thou I followed them on their art page on Magicam, and one day crossed paths with them in the town in between the two schools. After having no seeing them in so long, I almost didn't recognize them at a fast glance. They matured beautifully and my heart started to pound in my chest.
"Y-Y/n-san! It's so good to see you," I called out as I ran over and hugged them.
"It's good to see you again, sweet Neige," Y/n smiled gently.
It was nice reconnecting with them again, talking about school, and the upcoming festival. Even though, I tried my hardest to win their heart and attention. I can't help but feel like I wasn't the only one on their mind. For some reason this made my heart drop.
_______
Part 2?
85 notes · View notes
fanfoolishness · 4 years
Text
on the subject of rocks (SUF)
Steven and Jasper have a long-overdue conversation.  Set two years after SUF, canon-compliant. A little angst, a lot of hope. ~2500 words.
***
Steven is eighteen years old when he decides he wants to try to speak with her again.  
If she wants to, that is.
He thinks he’s ready.  He thinks the conversation might dim the feeling of her fragments cutting into his palm, the weight of his crime crushing his heart, his gut, his gem.  Therapy has helped a great deal. But there are still nights he wakes up panting, remembering what it felt like to let go, to hurt, to shatter, and he wonders.  
If Jasper has the same terrible memories, the same haunting, then maybe they should talk about it.
He talks with Dr. Boverman for hours.  He wants to be sure this is right.  Not just for him, but he wants to make sure this won’t damage her further than he already has.  They go round and round.  They’ve spoken of so many things, old wounds that pierced and bled and fractured, but most of those wounds were done to him.
The blood on his hands is less than he’d once feared it was, but it still doesn’t scrub clean.
“It will always be with you,” Dr. Boverman’s calm voice says.  “You shattered Jasper.  You didn’t intend to, but it’s what happened.”
“I know,” says Steven, and the thought no longer incapacitates him with shame.  It was terrible, violent, the worst possible action committed at nearly his lowest point.  But he accepts it, now, accepts that this will stay with him always.  That it should.
And yet -- 
He and Dr. Boverman strategize.  Roleplay.  Hours of scenarios, how to accept if she never wants to talk to him again, what to do if Jasper says she isn’t ready, what to do if she lashes out, what to do if she fights him, what to do if she bends her hands into the Diamond salute.  Each scenario frightens him at first, sends his heart racing.  The first time they talked about it he glowed pink again for the first time in months.  But the terror fades a little every time they speak, and several weeks later, he thinks he might be ready.
***
Little Homeworld is always different and always the same.  It’s a comforting flow of change, new Gems appearing each time he visits, old teachers moving on.  His family is still there, of course, and he has plans to catch up with them tomorrow.  But today -- today he wants to know if this is the right time.
If there will ever be a right time.  And if there isn’t, he thinks he can make his peace with that.
He finds Jasper sitting on a fallen log at the edge of the forest, alone as he’d expected she would be.  A sketchbook sits in front of her, colored pencils at her side.  His footsteps crunch on autumn leaves.
“Jasper?” he asks hesitantly, ten feet away.  
She turns to look at him, her form unchanged from the last time he saw her, the stripe through her eye disrupted, her horn broken.  So she hadn’t gone to Yellow, then.  A thread of fear mixed with guilt begins unspooling within him.  Maybe he wasn’t ready after all.
Jasper snorts, a gruff smile spreading over her face.  “I wondered if you’d stop by, one of these days.  I heard some of the others say you were coming into town.”
“Hi,” says Steven hesitantly.  He takes a deep breath, remembering his strategies.  “I -- I’d like to ask you something, Jasper.”
“Shoot,” she says in disinterest, picking up a pencil.  She makes scratchy marks against the sketchbook paper, scribbles he can’t quite make out.
He edges closer.  “I was wondering… I’ve done a lot of thinking.”
“Sounds like you.”
Despite himself, he chuckles slightly.  “All right, fair.”  
“Thinking about what?” she asks.
“About you,” says Steven honestly.  “And me.  What I did to you.  What we did to each other.”  He lets out a long, tremulous sigh, returning mentally to his gemstone, taking deep breaths with his diamond as his anchor.  “And I wanted to see if you wanted to talk about it.  It’s okay if you don’t, or if you want me to leave you alone.”  Breath.  Another.  “I’m so sorry, Jasper.”
She glances up at him, giving him an odd look, then gestures beside her with a powerful shoulder.  “Go on.  Sit down, already.”
No ‘my Diamond.’  He’s more relieved than he’d expected to be.  He sets down his bag and sits down on the ground, resting against the log instead of sitting on top of it with her.  He sinks into the soft loam, leans against the fallen trunk.  It’s more comfortable than it looks.  A few feet between them seem like miles, or inches, he isn’t sure.
Jasper regards him coolly, tilting her head slightly to one side.  “Why’d you really come here?”
“To talk to you,” says Steven, his hands folded and calm in his lap, his breathing slowing.  “You told me once that I was the one who needed help.  I’ve been getting it.”
“Told you,” she says, but there’s no gloating in her voice.  She purses her lips, face tensed in concentration.  At last she says, “So have I.”
He blinks, hands coming apart, fingers falling open.  He raises his head and gazes up at her, wondering if he’s heard her right.  “You have?”
“You told me to do something better with my life,” says Jasper, picking up her sketchbook.  At this angle he can see what she’s drawn.  It’s a rock -- what was it with her and rocks -- but a tenderly realized rock, craggy edges shaded in carefully, mosses and lichens rendered in textured shades of green and brown.  
“Jasper, that’s -- that’s really beautiful,” says Steven.  He’s been working on his art, too, but he’s no good at the type of delicate detail work laced into her sketch.  “Who taught you?”
“Ruby,” she says.  She sets the pencil down beside her, hands tensing on the sketchbook.  “I don’t go to Lapis’ classes.”
“Right.”  Part of him is saddened to hear it.  Another part of him is grateful for Lapis’ sake. He wonders which of them he’s most like.  “It seems like you’ve really taken to Little Homeschool.  I’m glad for you.”
A small scoff of a laugh, but it softens at the end into something more like a real smile.  Jasper shakes her hair, its white strands catching in the dappled sunlight beneath the trees.  She looks… calm, like this, and it’s not a state he ever remembers seeing her in before.
“What about you?” she asks suddenly.
“I’m doing well,” he replies, still shocked that they’re talking at all.  It’s going far better than most of the scenarios he’d practiced with Dr. Boverman.   “I visit with my family every couple of weeks.  I’ve been spending a lot of time in cities lately.  All the noise and hustle and bustle… it’s different, sometimes it’s overwhelming, but I like the energy.  It’s… good.  It’s really good.  Connie and I meet up every week.  And I talk to my therapist.”
“What’s that?”
“A therapist?  Um… it’s like a healer for human minds.  But it’s not instant, like with Diamond powers.  It takes time.  A long time.”  He gives her a small smile.  “Sometimes it’s two steps forward, one step back, but overall, I’m feeling a lot better than… before.”
Jasper considers his words.  She leans down, and he realizes a shiny blue beetle is crawling over the tip of her boot.  He tenses, waiting.
Jasper watches the beetle go, making no further move toward it.  It ambles away peacefully.
“You are not my Diamond,” she says into the silence.
“No,” he agrees, and something inside of him unclenches.  “I -- I’m a Diamond.  But mostly I’m just Steven.”
“I hated you for so long.”
He fights an urge to be sarcastic, to bite back at her.  This doesn’t sound… angry.  He keeps quiet, and lets her speak.
Her hand clenches into a fist, heavy against her thigh.  “I thought that if you could stop being weak, if I could make you stronger, I would have my Diamond again.  My purpose.  Someone to protect, someone to serve.”  
She stares into the woods, and he remembers his hands and legs awash in pink, the glow as he tore through the trees beneath a starry sky.  He remembers jagged laughter, his gem humming, a power crueler than he’d ever felt before --  
“I know.”
“Don’t ‘I know’ me when I’m talking to you,” she snaps.  “I’m trying to -- arrgh.  I thought this would be easier.”
“You thought what would be easier --” he starts to ask.
“You know.  Talking.  Ugh.  It’s nothing like a good fight.  The target keeps changing.”  She crosses her arms, still staring off into the trees.  The sun shifts overhead, casting her face in shadow.
“That’s called a conversation,” he says gently.  “Battles are battles, but a hard conversation… it can hurt.”
“Now you tell me,” says Jasper, and it takes him a solid minute before he realizes it’s a joke.  He laughs, but it’s too late, and Jasper shakes her head.  “Look.  Steven.  I -- I’m sorry.”  The words are hasty and fumbled and fast, but he catches them, barely.
“You’re sorry?” Steven yelps.  “But I’m the one who shattered you.”  It still comes out like a dirty word, almost two years later.  He wonders if he’ll ever be able to fully say it, if he’ll ever be able to act like it hasn’t scarred him.  He hopes not.  “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”
“You have.  Just now, and before,” she says, shrugging.  “But I only said I’d teach you to get you to fight me.  And you did.  And I lost.”
“Because I lost myself, I lost who I was, you didn’t make me --”
“But you were off-color,” growls Jasper.  “You were -- what do you humans call it again --?”
“Sick,” he says softly.  Such a small word.  It barely begins to cover everything that went wrong two years ago, but he knows CPTSD won’t mean a thing to her, and that’s okay, that’s not what he’s here for.
“Sick,” she repeats.  “And I --”  She digs her hands into the tree bark, small flakes of it crumbling beneath her shaking hands.  “I made you worse.  So that I could get something I wanted.  I failed to protect my Diamond from myself.”
“Jasper --” he gasps.  “You’ve been blaming yourself? For me shattering you?”
“Someone’s got to do it,” she huffs.
He rubs the back of his neck with his hand, tries to take another deep breath, reminds himself to return to the thought of his gem as a centering point.  He can do this.  He can do this.  It’s just, this isn’t how he thought it would go at all.  
He closes his eyes.  Remembers the way she screamed at him, punches in the gut, the face, the sides.  Remembers the way she goaded, the way she pressed, how proud she looked of how frightening he’d become.  He doesn’t know what to say.  “I -- I was sick,” he manages finally.  “I -- you’re right.”
“Of course I am.”
He shakes his head at that.  “But I’m still the one who did it.  I still have to take responsibility for hurting you,” he demands.
Jasper gives him an appraising look.  “Hmph,” she says, and he doesn’t know if it’s a hmph of agreement or a hmph of disdain.  It’s hard to tell with Jasper.  She holds the silence an uncomfortably long time before she says, “Maybe.”
“This isn’t how -- I wanted you to be mad at me,” Steven admits.  “I wanted you to be pissed off! To tell me to get away from you!”
“I can still do that,” says Jasper, apparently turning the thought around in her mind.  She chuckles, very slightly.  “But if that’s an order, I’m ignoring it.”
He laughs.  “You’re full of surprises, Jasper.”
“Am not.”
“You kind of are.”
“Don’t be so surprised then.”  She picks up her pencil, returning to her sketch.  Grass starts to grow beneath her rock, verdant blades springing up from dark soil.
“I thought you hated the local ecosystem.”
“It has its functions,” says Jasper begrudgingly.  “If I leave the grass it provides better contrast for the rocks.”  She picks up a different shade of green, adding highlights.  “It’s still puny.  But it has a purpose of its own.”
“What’s yours?” he asks, then kicks himself for getting so personal.
“Only if you tell me what yours is.”
Two years ago, the request would have paralyzed him.  Two years ago, he’d have panicked, spun out with a lie, tried his best not to think about who he was and what he was supposed to do.
He just smiles.  Breathes in the fresh green air, so different from the machine-smell of the big city.  Beneath the green there’s a hint of salt, the promise of the sea.  It smells like home.
“My purpose is to be Steven,” he says simply.  “To be myself.  To grow and change.  To love myself, regrets and all.”
“Sounds all right,” says Jasper begrudgingly.  “Sort of like mine these days.”  She turns to him, frowning.  “You got something to write on?”
“Uh, let me see.”  He rummages in his bag.  “Oh hey!  I have my sketchbook, too.”
“Well?” Jasper says, pointing to the boulder before her.  “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
He flips through his sketchbook, passing pages of silly Connie faces, a self-portrait in pink and white, Lion poses, CPH classic fanart.  He settles on a blank page and Jasper shoves a green pencil into his hand.  He feels smooth wood, the lightness of the organic drawing implement rounded and gentle in his palm.  No sharp edges, no jagged fragments, no terrible weight dragging his clenched hand into the hot water.  He blinks back tears.
The sunlight shifts, the golden hour arriving, brilliant light shafting through the leaves above and lining the forest floor in spun-gold glory.  His hands don’t quite have this kind of magic in them, but he tries his best, his drawing including sketches of the rock, the grass, the trees beyond them. He adds a gleaming line of yellow at the edges.  He’ll show it to Dr. Boverman at their next appointment.
“Not bad,” says Jasper, peering over his sketchbook.  “You added the trees.”
“It just felt more complete that way,” he says.  He glances at her drawing.  The rock is resplendent, resting on gold-touched grass, light captured in patches against the mosses and lichens.  “You can see all of this?  It’s incredible, Jasper.”
“It’s just what it looks like,” she says stubbornly.  “It’s a good challenge.”
“Like a conversation,” he says, half to himself.  
“Something like that.”  The breeze flutters past them, carrying faint birdsong, the far-off scent of the sea.
“Thanks for talking with me, Jasper.  I know you didn’t have to.”
“Of course.  I do what I want,” she replies, and her voice is gentler than he’s ever heard it.
540 notes · View notes
kitaychan · 3 years
Text
White Flame
Chapter 17
Rating M
Warnings: Blood, Psychological horror
General Summary:  As their two Kingdoms get closer to a war, the past keeps on hovering around their choices. Prince Ivan has a hard time controlling his magical powers while being tormented by a mysterious ghost and Prince Alfred embarcs in seeking a revenge that might cost more than it’s worth it.
Preview: Arthur paused, pondering on the seriousness of the reply and shaking his head. “Why did you support her request? Alfred is weary of Ivan and his sister, he’ll throw a tantrum. Not even Madeline will be able to calm him.” he said, returning to his pacing. “He’ll put the blame on me.”
“One would think you are afraid of the boy. Is he giving you a hard time?” A sly smile appeared on Francis’ face as he left the papers on the desk. “I advised Madeline to travel, it’d be good for her to strengthen ties with others. If Alfred brings demise upon himself, she won’t be dragged by him.”
“Nonsense, Alfred only needs to understand how this works, it’s my fault for not paying more attention to him and his learning.”
“He is aware of how this works.” Francis stated, crossing his arms and laying back on the chair. “You need to take him seriously.”
Chapter 17: Arrangements
Arthur paced around the room, the polished floor reflecting his tired silhouette. Papers shuffled behind his back, his eyes traveling slowly across the room, faltering at the sight of the long and delicate fingers that held the stock of papers, too close.
He stumbled back, to regain the distance the other man had stolen from his personal space.
He prefered it that way, distant, he was able to observe without the snarky remarks or the flirtatious glances. Reiterating over and over again that Francis was like that with everyone, that it was his way of behaving: eccentric, yet, accurate to the artistic circles he frequented, but when they were alone, Arthur was sure he was repeating the thought to convince himself, to believe that his nervousness and hesitancy were side effects of annoyance
A soft voice spoke. “I don’t see why you are so worried” a lone, red ruby glinted on the ring of the approaching hand, until it settled, resting on his shoulder. Blonde hair tossed to the side, barely visible as a page of paper was held hiding the face of the man speaking. “Everything is in order, I assure you that it will go down smoothly. Just a couple of weeks and I will return to you.”
Moving the hand away, Arthur huffed. “I only worry about Madeline, if you were to prolong your stay there, I’d gladly provide the means for that.”
Lowering the pages, Francis frowned, his voice dry and plain. “You wound me, Arthur. Why must you be so harsh?”
Arthur paused, pondering on the seriousness of the reply and shaking his head. “Why did you support her request? Alfred is weary of Ivan and his sister, he’ll throw a tantrum. Not even Madeline will be able to calm him.” he said, returning to his pacing. “He’ll put the blame on me.”
“One would think you are afraid of the boy. Is he giving you a hard time?” A sly smile appeared on Francis’ face as he left the papers on the desk. “I advised Madeline to travel, it’d be good for her to strengthen ties with others. If Alfred brings demise upon himself, she won’t be dragged by him.”
“Nonsense, Alfred only needs to understand how this works, it’s my fault for not paying more attention to him and his learning.”
“He is aware of how this works.” Francis stated, crossing his arms and laying back on the chair. “You need to take him seriously.”
Fighting the urge to argue with him, Arthur glared, leaning his hands on the desk, there was no use in following Francis’ game, though, what was the fun in speaking with him if he didn’t? He lowered his voice. “He’s plotting again, isn’t he? Is there something you want to tell me?”
A pause, Francis chuckled, averting his gaze. “A lot of things actually,” Clearing his throat, he continued. “Regarding this matter, there is nothing to tell, Alfred is pretty straightforward.”
Arthur sighed, organizing the papers on the desk, hesitantly taking the seal. “You’ll write to me as soon as you can.” he said, a small nod from Francis gave him the reassurance he needed. He signed, a sense of dread falling over him. After all, he had to inform the siblings of the arrangements he had made.
----
The curtains swayed with the wind, a cold breeze entering the room through the opened window, Natalya shivered, tossing the book on her bed and closing the window with a grunt.
The mirror, instead of reflecting her pale face and the shadows under her eyes, was filled with scattered pages, either full of annotations or depicting the same scenery over and over again.
That gloomy forest was imprinted on the back of Natalya’s mind, the book was filled with those sketches. There were crumbled papers laying on the floor, on top of her nightstand a messy, scratched letter.
Natalya frowned at the sight, no matter how many times she sent letters, they went unanswered. Perhaps there was a delay, a bitter taste crawled on her mouth as she remembered her father’s correspondence, the letters had arrived, Ivan was not replying to her.
A soft knock on the door took her out of her thoughts. “What do you want?” she asked, her voice sharp and loud.
The door opened and Feliks stepped in casually. Looking around, pausing at the mirror and kicking some of the papers on the ground. “Your father wants to see you.”
Natalya observed him intensely, her hand clenching on the curtain. “Get out, I’ll go with him in a moment.”
She kept her glare but Feliks didn’t move, he held his stare, a smile forming on his lips as he pointed at the nightstand. “Natalya, you are not approaching him correctly. Ivan is not an usual royal, he is more of a soldier than a prince. If you want to gain his attention, you have to provide him useful information.”
“What would that information be according to you?” she chuckled dryly, retrieving the book from her bed and placing it on the small table.
Feliks shrugged, pacing towards the door. “What meetings are being held here, your father’s opinions and of course, updates on how the territory is progressing. I can help you with that if you want.”
“I do not want your help, I am perfectly fine on my own.” She fumed, her hand reaching for the door.
He chuckled, standing in the doorway. “So, he replied to your love letters, right?”
Natalya’s face grew hot with anger, her voice raising. “Leave me alone! I will tell my father of your insolence.”
Feliks stepped back, taking distance from her, a sheepish smile on his face. “I will help you, I can assign you a scholar, he will accompany you and clarify the meetings to you and you will introduce him to the proper etiquette and such. Does the exchange sound appealing to you?”
Natalya glared, pushing the door to close it. “I won’t babysit any schoolboy.”
“Did I mention that he comes from a family of sorcerers? He might have magical knowledge too.” Feliks blurted out, holding the door open. “Yekaterina’s exchange idea was brilliant, we get to share with so many foreigners, it is certainly enriching our culture. I see you are interested in our forest so you could participate too, you are a foreigner here.”
Natalya retreated from the door, letting Feliks stumble forward. “Make the arrangements, I will see if I can make time for that.” She huffed, walking past him.
Feliks approached her in the corridor again. “I will certainly arrange a trip to the forest but you’ll have to convince Ivan about the scholar. You see, someone in my position cannot request anything to him but you surely could.”
She knitted her eyebrows, turning towards the staircase. “Nonsense, why do you offer something you cannot provide?”
Following on the steps, Feliks pressed. “It’s not a secret that your fiancé dislikes me, rightfully so, I shouldn’t have behaved like that at the feast. I know people, unlike you or your cousin, I mean, his majesty, I have a wide network of acquaintances.” He smiled. “You only have to persuade him, the person I’m talking about is one Tino’s trusted advisors, safer than bringing the western kingdom’ princess.”
Natalya stopped in the last step, arching her eyebrow. “What do you mean with that?”
“You do not know? Yekaterina arranged princess Madeleine to visit the firebird, that’s why your father is so busy these days. Personally, I think that’s a poor choice from her but who am I to judge Yekaterina’s administration.”
“I don’t care about your opinions, my father can provide me with advisors if I ask, a scholar is not necessary and I won’t talk ill about Katya if that’s what you want.” Natalya clenched her hands on her dress, why would they hide something so important from her?
Feliks shook his head, lowering his voice. “You could inform yourself about a distant principality through said scholar and advise Ivan on how to rule it.” he shrugged. ”Of course, I’d never wish for you to engage in aversion with your cousin and soon to be, sister in law.”
Resuming her steps, Natalya argued. “Stop mentioning our familiar ties, it’s unnecessary.”
“You are right, it is” He hummed, waving his hand and dismissing the men waiting by the office’s door. “I just think it’s strange that Yekaterina brings another princess here, taking into account the rumors about the prince.”
Knocking on the door, she growled. “Get out of my sight. I recognize a snake when I see one. I’ll make my father behead you.”
As the door opened, Feliks straightened his posture, his smile vanished and he lowered his head.
Natalya smirked at the change of attitude, perhaps she could scare him a bit more with her threats, her joy soon vanished as she saw Tolys was the one holding the door open, she scrunched her nose and walked past him.
When the door closed, Natalya sat heavily, her brow furrowed, she opened her mouth to speak but her father held a hand.
“I know, I should have told you before but we weren’t sure if they would accept Katya’s invitation, I was hoping they didn’t.” he paused, observing her. “You look tired.”
“I’m fine.” She pouted, reminding herself that her discontent should be directed towards Feliks and not her father, there wasn’t much he could do about it if Yekaterina requested it. “What is Tolys doing here?”
At the question, his face lit up, he ushered her to approach, showing her a delicate box. “A gift was sent. He said you’d requested it.”
Natalya took the box, it was wrapped with blue silk, a platinum ribbon adorning the top of it. It was a bit heavy but not much, she arched an inquiring eyebrow at her father.
He shrugged, handling her a letter. “I’m sorry, I was wondering what the fuss was about, please, tell me that's a dress.”
She took the open letter with trembling hands, reading over it quickly.
It’s light enough for you to wear it everyday if you want, and ornate enough for it to be a sight to behold.
Another one was requested for the day of the ceremony.
I hope it’s to your liking.
Ivan.
Natalya beamed, laughing lightly. With a sing-song voice she said. “It’s not a dress!” Leaving her father with a dumbfounded expression, not hiding the smile on her face, she took the box and hurried to her room. Her steps felt lighter, the day was brighter and her heart was fluttering with excitement.
She pulled the bow apart, opening the box slowly, the silver crown was indeed beautiful, blue sapphires adorning it. Natalya gasped, this was not a tiara, it was a crown, to think that she’d have another, perhaps more beautiful and majestic was beyond her dreams.
She moved away the papers from her mirror, taking off the white ribbon from her hair and folding it. She lifted the crown slowly, placing it on her head, the window opened with a thud, a cold wind entering, moving the curtain and twirling the lone pages, her tiredness vanished and she could swear her reflection was smiling back at her.
Natalya was exceeding the fantasies of her treasured fairytales.
---
The market was a picturesque place, crowded with people, offering a variety of products, some children running around as their mothers sold the goods, results of their labor.
There were a few harsh glances thrown in their direction, seeing soldiers from the royal army around the firebird was offensive to the inhabitants, Tolys couldn’t blame them, nor was he surprised by the quantity of women in the place, he had frequented the market long before and most of the sellers were men. Now, the few men left were elders or young boys helping their mothers.
Feliks guided them into a small bakery, gaining confused glances from the soldiers, the woman attending was busy, bargaining with another in the entrance. Tolys avoided their gaze as they approached, not wanting to draw attention. His attempt was in vain, even if he was no soldier, he looked like a prince in comparison to the villagers.
Feliks looked around, staying by the door, ushering to take a look. Tolys approached, the interior of the bakery was dull but he could notice the restaurations, they were odd looking. The firebird used to be adorned with warm tones, the blue banners and the white paint was not the inhabitants doing.
One of the soldiers entered, his eyes fixed on the wooden counter, more exactly on the pastries exhibited.
Feliks approached him, greeting the man warmly. Tolys saw the confusion in the man’s eyes, but what caught his attention was a scar on the man’s hand.
Feliks glanced around, standing beside the man. “Are you a soldier?”
The man shook his head. “No, sir. I am a farmer.”
The other soldiers chuckled. Tolys observed quietly, as Feliks frowned, his voice acquiring an annoyed tone. “That injury doesn’t look too old, did you participate in the conquest?”
“I did, the circumstances required all available men to join the army.”
“How unfair of the King to ask the civilians such sacrifice.” Feliks huffed, motioning the woman to pack some pastries, her hands curling the hem of the white apron she wore.
Tolys glanced back at the entrance, the other soldiers were watching them with suspicion. A tired voice replied. “It is part of our duty as subdits of our King.”
Feliks nodded, “What do you think of the prince? wasn’t he drunk a few days ago?”
“Drunk is an exaggeration.” one of them said. “To see him in the winter festival was a strange happening, but maybe he’ll be a better ruler. Not secluded in that palace, maybe he’ll be more lenient with us.”
“Royalty doesn’t care about any of us unless we are useful to them.They only take our work, our men and sometimes our women.” The woman huffed, glaring at Feliks and placing a small box on the counter. “Though that’s more of a soldiers’ tradition, isn’t it?”
“Such a thing hasn’t happened in a long time.” The soldier next to Feliks shifted on his feet. “The prince was with our regiment when the Firebird was taken, I thought royalty didn’t engage in the conflicts, you know? I wonder if your prince was watching from afar, comfortable and hidden. Our King was with us, and his son, I think we owe him the return, he took that decision after all.”
The woman’s face grew red, she raised her voice. “I don’t owe him anything, your king and your soldiers own us for the spilled blood of our families. I don’t have to welcome you, I merely tolerate you.”
Tolys eyes widened, he stepped back, motioning the soldiers to do the same, unluckily for him, they didn’t comply.
Feliks dragged him out of the bakery by the arm, chuckling softly. “It’s so easy to set them up.”
Toly’s glanced warily at the woman arguing with them. “We should-”
“Quick, what news do you have.” Feliks interrupted him, his voice hushed.
“Vladimir resigned, he said it was a foolish plan. Ivan is busy flirting with a maid and Yekaterina is focused on the exchanges, they suspect nothing.”
“A maid?” Feliks laughed. “I can’t wait to rub that in Natalya’s face, she’s hard to persuade, isn’t she?”
“Lady Natalya has a sharp vision, don’t taunt her.” Tolys’ frowned, fidgeting with his hands. “I suspect Vladimir might tell.”
“Natalya is busy daydreaming about her wedding, as for Vladimir, he won’t speak, that would cause him trouble with Tino or worse.”
Tolys paused, shaking Feliks shoulder. “Tell me you haven’t spoken with Ludwig? You know very well that Gilbert will not provide aid just because, what are we supposed to give them in return?”
Feliks lowered his eyes, his eyebrows knitted. “I’d never ask that devil for help, trust me. Tino refuses to back us up but he might change his opinion if we pull the right strings, I’m working on it.”
“Give me more time. Vladimir said there was something off, let me find out what he was talking about and I’ll convince him.”
“Alfred already spoke with Lukas, if the middle kingdom gets involved Alfred will mediate, I trust his word.” Feliks smirked, pointing at the bakery. “Ivan will be trapped, he can’t attack the firebird as his father did. Yekaterina is digging her brother’s grave without knowing but if she sees you too close with Vladimir she might suspect something.”
Tolys nodded slowly, his eyes trailing to the firebird, that tall and lone fortress looked grim. He wondered, after all this was over, would he have to live in there? Was this worth the trouble? A glance at the bakery made him recompose his thoughts, the woman was showing those soldiers the way out of her bakery, her head was high and a small smile settled on her face.
He wanted that, the satisfaction that was ripped from him, the autonomy, no, the dignity that the horrid blue and silver banners had stolen from him.
15 notes · View notes
honey-hippie-harper · 3 years
Text
Walking through the dark
Hello :’) ahdjabndms well...I didn’t enter the gift exchange (I WAS HAVING A BREAKDOWN I’M SORRY) but...ansdhnsj yeah :’) @honey-harper-official like I had already told you...I wanted to do something for you. You asked for angst about Adrian talking about his mom...but this turned out to be kinda Nodrian, I hope you don’t mind :’)
Idk what to say :’) You were an important part of this fandom, and I’m going to miss you a lot. Still, I am (I think we all are) proud you’re doing what’s best for you. Carry on <3
I hope you like this <3
And thank you.
I’m a little rusty in all this writing straights businesses
Walking through the dark
Two years after the Supernova, they were trying to “get more creative” with the parade, while trying to make it more affordable at the same time.  
This year, it looked like an illustrated book. There were no paid actors, nor were the Renegades on top of a float. If anything, they were patrolling alongside the rest of the teams, and the only extra checks were for the marching band and the drivers.
The first float was about the lift of the city, and it had a city in ruins, with Ace Anarchy standing above everything. The background was in greys and reds, which made his gold and blue costume glow like a traffic light in the shadows. By the right corner, were Queen Bee and Cyanide, turning their backs at the audience, and staring at Ace Anarchy instead.
The second float was about the Renegades’ first public appearance, standing at the front, ordered by height, while the Anarchists’ silhouettes stood behind them, taller and bigger, so they could fit into six different people.
The next one was the Puppeteers’. He was standing on a Ferris Wheel, with the strings coming from his hands tied around the Anarchists and the Renegades’ shadows. The Renegades had blue strings, and the Anarchists had red strings.
The following one was new, because her parents had never been in the floats before. It was a beautiful car, with colors that resembled the Milky Way, and it showed David Artino, with a woman (Tala Artino) and a little girl (Evie, now Maggie Artino) standing behind him, placing a star into an older girl’s hands (herself). There was another, golden silhouette behind them, too.
The Day of Triumph came right after. Ace Anarchy standing on the cathedral, and Captain Chromium watching him from below, Silver Spear in hand, and a little capsule on his back.
Then came the scene after the cathedral, with the Renegades standing together outside the building. No masks. One of them missing. The rest, bruised but victorious. Captain Chromium was holding the Silver Spear above his head, and the Silver Spear had the helmet, which was on Max’s head the following float.
The supernova. Max being the one standing above them. The two of them.
Adrian and Nova. 
The supernova float had a lot of colors, and it was Adrian’s personal favorite. Maybe that’s why Nova remembered the floats so well in the first place. She had spent a good amount of time discussing with Adrian about them.
She also remembered them because she was watching them from above when she fell from the roof.
It was an accident, and it was stupid.
In order to avoid having people scattered all over the place, the teams were asked to split this year. While Danna and Nova watched from two different roofs, Adrian, Oscar and Ruby were left on the ground. From her roof, Nova could see Adrian, and if she went across it, towards the space where the water tanks were located, she could see Ruby. However, Danna was the one who could see Oscar.
When the floats arrived into their assigned street, the security camera started bothering Nova more than it should’ve had. It wasn’t really misplaced, but it surely looked so to her, because she had once been here, and she was one to know about the tricks a person who had bad intentions could play. She also knew that two could play that game, especially if they both knew those tricks.
Now, the camera wasn’t misplaced. It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. But Nova was stubborn, so she climbed on the edge of the roof anyway to go check on it. For some reason, the structure being slippery due to mold or water or whatever, never crossed her mind.
One moment, Nova was standing at the edge of the roof.
The next one, she was falling.
It happened so fast she couldn’t even scream or think, but somehow she managed to activate the emergency alarm in her bracelet, as the wind made her eyes tear up, and she felt her body suspended in time, though it was still falling, and falling, and falling.
First, the panicked swarm of butterflies reached her, careful not to block her vision because that would only make the death experience worse for her (yes, at the moment, Nova was sure she wouldn’t live to tell the story about how she fell from the roof) while also trying to help, perfectly knowing there was nothing they could do.
And, a few seconds after that, all Nova felt was a wave of overwhelming pain, when Thunderbird tackled her to stop the freefall and then wrapped her arms around her, flying all the way up to the roof, and then going down again. Nova had never been rescued by Thunderbird before, but she didn’t know one single person who said being rescued by her had been a pleasant experience. Her movements felt controlled and it was evident she knew what she was doing, but she was rough as hell, to the point where, despite knowing she had already been saved, Nova screamed for her life, until she was dropped on the ground in a mildly gentler way.
Upon stepping on stable ground, Nova realized this would be the dizziest she would ever be, and stumbled. Danna, who was already reformed, standing next to her, caught her by the arm so she wouldn’t fall.
At first, when she regained control over her senses, she heard nothing but Thunderbird’s ranting, and her voice demanding to see the entire Team Sketch, here and now, because, to put it lightly, Thunderbird was as blocked as her, and none of the two were able to hear Adrian in the distance, until they spot him.
He was bawling.
The parade was following its course, as they were trying to keep things as calm as possible, and Tsunami was still out there, acting as the only active council member at the moment, although aware of what was happening. Above all the noise and the commotion, Nova spotted Ruby politely nudging her way into the crowd, following Thunderbird’s call and, obviously, the emergency alarm sent by Nova when she was falling.
Oscar was also coming, although slower.
And Adrian was bawling.
Nova could see him knelt down on the floor, with Captain Chromium’s, who also happened to be his dad, arms surrounding him, holding his body tightly. The Dread Warden, his other dad, was there too, uselessly trying to block the scene.
Well.
Maybe his attempts weren't that useless, and it was only that Nova happened to be in the right spot, at the right time, from which Adrian’s silhouette was impossible to go unnoticed, even with the Dread Warden standing in the middle.
“Who’s riding with her in the ambulance?”
An ambulance.
The words almost didn’t make sense in Nova’s head, not even with Thunderbird’s voice, which was pretty clear most of the time, especially when she was talking to the recruits. An ambulance.
An ambulance, because Nova had fallen from a roof, and Thunderbird had caught her.
Half of her body was sore, because she had been hit by Thunderbird’s body after all, but Nova was pretty sure she didn’t need an ambulance. She didn’t need to go to the medical wing. If anything, maybe she needed some water, but she was sure nothing was broken, nor dislocated or sprained.
She was fine.
Adrian, in fact, looked way more affected than her. Nova’s heart was pounding, but she wasn’t bawling after all.
He was.
“I’ll do it.” Ruby said. “I’ll ride with her in the ambulance.”
She did understand that.
“I’m okay.” She said. “Literally, I’m doing good. I don’t need to…”
“Just in case.”
Thunderbird patted her shoulder, which made it hurt a little.
Even so, Nova was still convinced she didn’t need an ambulance.
Yet, said ambulance was already coming closer to her.
“I’m fine. I’m just fine.”
“Sssh.” Ruby came over and, as Danna let go of her hand, wrapped her arms around her, so Nova could use her as the human crutch she didn’t need. “It’s okay, Nova.”
“Don’t fight it.” She heard Oscar’s voice say.
Sweet rot, she was just fine.
Being bruised by Thunderbird wasn’t something that required her being taken to the medical wing, mostly because it hadn’t been her intention to hurt her. On the contrary, Thunderbird had saved her. She was okay.
They wouldn’t believe her, of course. It wasn’t a possibility.
It never was, when something as awful as this happened.
Ruby rode with her in the ambulance.
Adrian showed up into her room a few minutes after they started allowing visitors. His face seemed wet, and his eyes were red as cherries.
Then he got into the bed and rested his head on her chest, while she gently ran her thumb through the space below his ear, going all the way down to his chin, feeling the remnants of facial hair he had previously shaved, perhaps a couple of days ago.
For the next week, Adrian said nothing about it.
Nothing.
-.-
Nova had an intermittent schedule because, once she grew to accept the fact she also needed some spare time and do something besides work, she decided she couldn’t just work as part of the patrol units and work in the Vault. On the other hand, she also had refused to leave all the work to Callum, and it’s not like she didn’t like the Vault or hanging out with Callum. For instance, she decided she would be part of the patrol units for a week, and then she would rest from that the following one, working at night in the Vault instead.
So far, it was working. She felt more rested and relaxed, even on busy days.
The post-parade days were usually busy, if she wanted to be honest, mostly because of the things that had happened during the parade but nobody noticed them until everything was over.
Nova had covered a shift with the team when she was supposed to be getting ready to join Callum at night. In her defense, the parade was pretty stressful for everyone, even the Council, now that they have to work as staff. Still, that didn’t change the fact they were walking alongside the floats, following them through the entirety of the city by foot, with the patrolling teams working as their side view, checking if there was any threat in the spots they couldn’t see.
The Anarchists were gone, and so were the Rejects.
Both Winston and Leroy had stopped considering themselves Anarchists some time ago and, besides, they didn’t like the parade. If anything, Winston had speeded towards the Headquarters the moment they called to the house, saying Nova had fallen from a roof, but none of the two were among the crowd to see her fall.
“I would love to see them dressed in the patrol units’ uniform, though.” Winston said. Because, indeed, to make sure everybody knew they were part of the staff, they had chosen to wear patrolling uniforms, and not their official costumes. “But I won’t.”
And he didn’t.
At least, not a first.
The thing was…he did see them in the hallway when he came to the medical wing, but he was too busy freaking out to even make the slightest offensive comment.
It wasn’t until later, a few days after the parade, that, while laying on the couch, Winston started wheezing at how tight the uniform was on Hugh’s chest, how uncomfortable Kasumi looked (and how she had pulled up the sleeves), how Tamaya kept tugging on the fabric around her neck, and that photo where Simon was trying to get a little piece of tape off his clothes but, out of context, looked as if he were checking on his own butt.
Winston had a blast, but only after Leroy, Maggie and him were scared to death.
The Maggie thing was questionable.
A little. Nova wasn’t sure.
Because, just like Adrian, she didn’t mention anything about it after she snuggled up in bed with her as soon as she came home from the Headquarters.
But maybe that was just Maggie.
She was like that sometimes.
Adrian, from his part, wasn’t. He wasn’t one to be closed to his feelings. In fact, he was usually willing to talk about what was wrong and why he was upset, which was pretty useful to Nova because, even if she sometimes had some trouble admitting it, she wasn’t particularly good at reading signs. It was something she was working on, relentlessly, but Rome hadn’t been built in a day.
Maybe he was just worried.
Nova never called in sick. She rarely missed a couple of days at work, let alone the entire week.
The day of the parade, just like she suspected from the start, the healers didn't find anything unusual in her body. In fact, everything was as it should be apart from the bruises. Nevertheless, they did say she might experience some mild pain in the next hours.
And mild was only one way to put it.
Maggie had been asleep, curled into a ball, next to her, for a couple of hours already, when Nova felt the sudden urge to throw up, and when she tried to move, half of her body was so sore she couldn’t find the strength to run. Or walk, whatsoever. Instead, she somehow managed to reach for the trash can, and even that was painful as fuck.
People were right when they said Tamaya wasn't tender. Nova had had her doubts, but right now there were no doubts left. When she called to notify she wouldn’t be going to the Headquarters at all, nobody tried to convince her otherwise. People rather encouraged it, knowing Nova verged on workaholic.
Adrian texted her a couple of times, and they talked about stuff unrelated to the parade accident. Nova didn’t think anything about it, as she attributed that to the fact Adrian was as sensitive as he was open. Perhaps he thought talking about it would make her upset, despite her having left the headquarters seemingly unaffected when it happened.
Then, after Thursday, the texts stopped. They were having a conversation about pizza, and then he stopped. Which made sense, to a certain extent, because Adrian was part of a patrol unit after all, and Ruby had already told her they had a couple of night shifts these days.
Once again, she tried not to think much about it. Besides, once her muscles were a little less swollen, she agreed to paint flower pots with Winston.
Not that that was something she exclusively did with Winston. Everyone in the house had done it, because they were always trying to find ways to bond and, in this case, due to Winston’s suggestion, they had painted flower pots. So far, they  were trying their best. Maggie’s flower pot had pretty dark colors, because she claimed she liked those. Leroy’s was pretty simple, because he had just sketched some formulas and painted the top part in green. Winston had not one, but three different flower pots already, plus the one he was painting at the moment, all of them very colorful and with elaborate drawings. As for Nova...she was doing her best.
She wasn’t an artist, but, with tons of dedication, she had managed to paint her flower pot in black and blue. She was now writing her name in italics on it, thinking about how she might also draw some stars later...or tell Winston to help her draw some stars. It occurred to her it would look nice.
Their house was sort of small, meaning they had a small yard too, but it was big enough to have a small garden and to place a blanket, and sit on it while they painted.
Both Winston and Nova had awful postures, if she wanted to be honest, and hers was even worse now that half of her body was aching, though she could feel she was already getting better.
A lot, in fact.
At least now she could limp through the house without feeling like she was dying, and get into the shower without Maggie’s help (which she provided reluctantly).
Over the time they sat together, Winston and Nova did some small talk, not enough to get the other distracted from their work.
In fact, the sound of Nova’s phone vibrating distracted them more than themselves had managed to do.
Normally, she wouldn’t have answered any calls or text messages when she was in the middle of a bonding session but, somehow, she also figured it could be Adrian, so she discreetly lifted up her cellphone.
Adrian: Hey.
Adrian: Can you come outside?
“Is it Adrian?”
“It’s Adrian.”
Winston scoffed.
“Don’t make that poor guy suffer.”
-.-
Nova didn’t like bright lights, because she wasn’t used to them. Hence, when she was given the chance to decorate her own room, she chose to only illuminate it with night lamps instead of light bulbs. Not only did it make her feel more comfortable, but it also helped save money, especially when there were four people living in that house.
Her closet was right next to the door, and it was fairly messy, to the point where Nova managed to reach for a sweatshirt, without even opening the closet per se.
Oscar had given it to her as a present during her last birthday, and it was in full black. At the back, it had a phrase, written in a very small font: if you can read this, you’re too close.
Nova liked to wear it.
Maybe it wasn’t that adequate in this situation but, on the other hand, Adrian couldn’t even see it and, besides, it was more adequate than a paint-stained white t-shirt, which was what she was wearing underneath it.
Nova’s bed was made most of the time, as she rarely ever used it. It was a twin bed, of course, and she had filled it with cushions and some plushies, because one was never too old for plushies (she even managed to get a teddy bear that looked similar enough to Dolly Bear). On top of the bed, there was also a blanket Nova had been knitting ever since they had moved into this house. It was so long it fell to the floor, on the carpet, and it had several, several types of wool. Sometimes, when she felt sad, mad or stressed, she just knitted and knitted for hours, non-stop, sometimes until she got blisters in her fingers.
Needless to say, she was emotionally attached to that thing and Adrian, since he was her boyfriend, was aware of it, so he always tried to be very careful when he sat on it.
He was being careful even now, as he sat down on the bed, on top of the knitted blanket, and Nova sat on the swivel chair, although not without asking:
“Do you want something from the kitchen? I think Winston made some cookies yesterday. We also have orange juice and...pizza leftovers. The usual. So, do you...want something?”
Staring at her from the bed, through the light, Adrian smiled sideways, as he reached for her hand, lowering his gaze towards the small tattoo she had in her index finger. It was nothing special, just two dots, one next to the other. Each represented one of her parents. Adrian himself had helped her make it, back when Maggie arrived into the house and everyone was having a hard time adjusting.
(Nova had always had weird ways to cope with stress).
“Is there a reason why you’re so quiet?” Nova asked, carefully, knowing that’s what he had asked some time ago, when they finally sat down to talk about everything that had happened the previous weeks to the supernova. Especially, how he had taken her bracelet away in a rather personal way, and how that had hurt her.
They rarely ever talked about it anymore, mostly because Gatlon preferred not to talk about the supernova. Leroy often said that, like the Age of Anarchy, it was an event that had caused collective trauma. When people...people who weren’t the Council, or direct witnesses, that is, tried to talk about the issue, they automatically lowered their volume, though they knew there were no legal repercussions to the mention of the tragedy.
Still, it was delicate, so everyone just chose not to talk about it.
Nova, personally, and after some time of therapy, was open to tell her experience, though she rarely took the initiative to do it. Adrian was the same, more or less.
“Am I quiet?” He asked, his sideways smile widening. Nova tilted her head to the side, scoffing.
“Pretty much.” She confirmed. “And I don’t mean just in this very moment. Is there a reason why you’re pretending I don’t exist? You know...not texting back and such?”
For a moment, he seemed uncomfortable, and it occurred to Nova that, maybe, her tone hadn’t been the right one. Her voice was like that, but she usually managed to manipulate so it would fit in a situation the way she wanted it to.
“...I’m not mad, just so you know, but still, if you want me to know, then...I...I want to know too.” She cleared her throat. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Adrian pushed his glasses up, with the tip of his pinky.
“How are you?” He asked after a while. His voice sounded delicate, almost weak, and thin as a thread.
For a second, Nova didn’t understand.
“I’m...good. How are you?”
He laughed in response, but it wasn’t a genuine laugh. Nova knew him well enough to know that had been a nervous chuckle.
“No, I mean…” He coughed. “Thunderbird hit you pretty hard when she...when you were…”
“Oh! Yes!” Nova felt immediately stupid, so she chuckled a little too, before pulling up one of her sleeves.
Adrian’s eyes widened.
The massive bruise was getting better, but it was still there, and it still hurt to the touch. Besides, obviously, it wasn’t only in her arm, but also in her entire side, before it abruptly ended in her thigh. She wasn’t going to show that to Adrian, because one couldn’t just start getting undressed in a serious situation. He was good with just watching her arm which, on its own, was already making him uneasy for some reason. “For some reason”, she said, because this wasn’t the worst wound he had seen on her skin. These were just bruises. There wasn’t blood or anything.
“It’s getting better.” She said. “A few days ago, I couldn’t even move, but now I don’t feel as sore. Winston and Leroy brought an ointment for me, and…”
She wasn’t yet finished, when she noticed Adrian was already taking out his marker, which he usually carried in his pocket, getting it closer and closer to the bruise, to which Nova flinched, taking it out of his reach.
“Easy there.” She said, smiling and arching an eyebrow. “It’s not necessary. It's healing on its own just fine.”
“Don’t fight it, Nova.”
“Adrian, it’s fine. I’m okay. I’m doing okay. Don’t wo--”
“You’re not doing okay. You have a bruise.”
“Duh! But it’s healing. It’s fine.” Nova grabbed her own wrist, tying to get her arm out of Adrian’s reach. The bruise burned.
“It’s not fine, Nova!”
“Chill, Adrian! Chill! What’s gotten into..?!”
“IT’S NOT FINE, NOVA!”
“Why are you screaming?!”
“IT’S NOT FINE!”
The marker wasn’t directed towards her. First, because she knew Adrian would never. And, second, because she could tell it wasn’t particularly aimed at anyone or anything. Still, he threw it anyway. And given that, for some reason, Adrian appeared to be pretty distraught, letting his marker fall didn’t feel fair. Hence, Nova tried to catch it, but the chair was sort of stretchy so, in the moment she leaned backwards, it looked like she was falling.
Gasping, Adrian grabbed her by the left wrist, very tight, to the point Nova almost felt he was going to get that bruised too.
The marker fell to the floor, on Nova’s knitted blanket, and she just stared at it, while Adrian stared at her, not letting go of her hand.
Silence fell among them, as the sense of overwhelming confusion surrounded them, making them feel like they knew nothing, or that they were meeting for the first time, or that, simply, they weren’t on the same page.
As the marker laid on the floor, Adrian gulped, and finally let go of her.
“I...I think it’s not the time. I should go. I should just…”
“No.” This time, Nova was the one who grabbed him by the wrist, trying to be gentle, but also firm. “Stay. Please.”
Once again, Adrian’s eyes found Nova. He looked lost, almost like a small child, and where Nova had asked for a favor...kind of like a request, he had heard a command for some reason.
He didn’t move, but Nova did.
After picking up the marker, she moved towards the bed, sitting cross-legged, feeling the cushions behind her.
She placed the marker between them, but Adrian didn’t take it. Instead, he kept staring, until Nova took a deep breath and placed a lock of hair behind her ear, straightening her back.
“If you don’t want to tell me, then take your time.” She said. “But we can do something else. We can...paint flower pots with Winston. We could try to go on a date. Watch a movie. Nap for two days…”
That one last line was meant to be delivered as a joke, but Adrian didn’t catch it, and if he did, it wasn’t funny enough to get a reaction from him.
Sighing, Nova filled her cheeks with air, and then let it go, trumpeting with her mouth, and grabbing her own ankles, as she turned away, staring at the ajar closet.
“Nova?”
Upon hearing her name, Nova became alert, just nodding, so he knew he could go ahead, which he did after a while.
“I know it wasn’t your fault.”
“What are you talking about, Adrian?” She asked in a soothing voice, to which Adrian fidgeted with his own fingers, suddenly incapable to look her in the eye.
He was frozen.
And he couldn’t.
“When...when you were falling...when you were falling from that roof…” Adrian squirmed, frowning, and massaging the bridge of his nose. Hesitating. Maybe scared. Maybe a little confused.
Nova waited for him.
“When you were falling from that roof, before Thunderbird caught you… before we realized you were okay...before… before...before everything was okay.” He gulped, still not being able to look her in the eye.
“...It’s like…” he scratched his own arm. “...It’s like I almost saw her.”
Her.
Her, wh… ?
Something clicked inside of her brain, and all the dots connected with each other.
Suddenly, Nova remembered the one who had fallen from the roof, and taken half of the world with her in the process.
Georgia Rawles’ ghost was hanging from the sky, but not this one; she was hanging from another sky, perhaps the same one Nova’s parents were, and nobody could see her, nor hear her.
Nevertheless, they could feel her. And her absence stabbed the ones who had loved her in the stomach, perforating their insides.
Choking down a gasp, Nova took her hands to her mouth, remembering how she, too, had fallen from a roof, and for a second she saw nothing but Adrian knelt down on the floor, clinging on his dad.
“Adrian.” She whispered, in a suffocated voice. “Adrian, I’m sorry, I…”
She stared into his eyes once again. They were shiny as crystal, and red as blood.
Maybe it was time to stop talking and do something instead.
So, gulping, Nova reached for him, and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight and being corresponded. After a couple of seconds, Nova’s arms started to get a little tired, and the pain came back to her, but she didn’t let go. On the contrary, she just changed the position of her arms, putting her arms beneath his’ , and resting her chin on his shoulder.
For his part, Adrian kissed one side of her head, and Nova felt his breathing between her hair. Then, she felt his fingers, tenderly caressing her scalp.
His body became tense, and his heart started beating fast, for Nova could feel it in her own chest, and in her entire body.
As Adrian shivered, Nova made sure he knew she understood, and rubbed the tip of her nose against the fabric of his shirt.
“I’m here.” She reminded him.
“I know.” He said, in a broken voice. That, for some reason, made Nova feel some sort of relief, and she hoped Adrian knew how much she meant it.
Because she did. A whole lot, in fact.
“...I know it wasn’t your fault...” He said, once they had separated, and he had wiped the tears from his eyes.
Nova held his hand, and her bracelet shone under the soft lights.
“...I know it wasn’t her fault either.” Chills ran down Nova’s spine. “It’s not her fault she died...and sometimes I wonder if she knows that. That it wasn’t her fault. That I know she wanted to stay. That I know she loved me. That I know I miss her and that I…”
Adrian cut himself off.
“That I’m sorry.”
Nova resisted the urge to ask him how therapy was going, because she knew having intrusive thoughts didn’t necessarily mean therapy wasn’t going well. Still, she held his hand tighter, and gulped.
“I’ve heard many things about your mom.” She said, smiling sideways. “And I didn’t get to personally meet her, but I trust she loved you very much. Raising a child...while trying to take down a government...that is badass, Adrian.”
She gulped.
“... And if she was willing to do that for you...then I’m sure she knows.”
Adrian shivered again, visibly, and as tears started rolling down his face again, Nova placed her hands on his cheeks, wiping some of them away.
“And I’m sure she knows it wasn’t your fault, too.”
Adrian hiccuped, pressing Nova’s hand against his skin, calm.
“...When do you learn to see in the dark, Nova?” He asked in a low voice.
And for some reason, the answer was clear from the first second, as she, staring directly into his eyes, said:
“You don’t.”
Because she knew.
“...What you do learn, it’s to walk by the ones who have an excellent night vision and are willing to help you through, and you also learn to follow the voice of those who aren’t here anymore.”
Nova gulped.
“Your dads, Max, Danna, Oscar, Ruby… and me. We’re all here… maybe she’s also still here, somewhere up there, in the universe.”
By feeling him right there with her, Nova felt that they really were.
That they were.
And that they could.
Adrian smiled sideways, and when they laid next to the other to nap for two days, and Nova made sure they both knew they could use the blanket if they wanted to, she asked:
“Remember when you said that maybe you wanted me to be your nightmare?”
“I remember.” Adrian rested his head on his own arm. His eyes were still shiny for the tears, and they were very brown and very beautiful.
“I don’t want to be.” She said, slowly. “Let’s not be each other’s nightmare, okay?”
“Then what should we be?” He asked, scoffing a little.
Nova thought about it for a while. Then, she kissed him. A small kiss, that felt as if the other were a safe, warm space.
“Light.” She said.
“Let’s walk together through the dark, so we don’t fall.”
And for a while, the world was theirs.
Then, Maggie came to knock on the door, saying Leroy wanted them to take the car and go buy food, knowing Adrian would stay for dinner.
38 notes · View notes
melioramercy · 4 years
Text
i didn’t mean to, but i know it still hurts
spencer reid x nonbinary partner (afab) (they/them/theirs)
in which spencer accidentally misgenders his partner
this is my first fic ! how groovy is that ?
note: misgendering is defined as the following: [to] refer to (someone, especially a transgender person) using a word, especially a pronoun or form of address, that does not correctly reflect the gender with which they identify.
if you’d like to chat about gender (respectfully) my asks are open xx ruby
dating spencer reid was wonderful. truly, you had no idea how you’d gotten so lucky. he was kind without trying, attentive to your needs, and would never do anything to hurt your feelings. not on purpose, anyway. but when he did, he was quick to apologise, curling up on the couch with you and kissing your head. he knew you typically brooded in silence, choosing to let what was bothering you wash over you in full before attempting to sort anything out. this way, you didn’t say anything you didn’t mean. you two always sorted out conflicts peacefully, and only ended up crying because you loved each other so much and you never wanted to be mad at the other. because of this, he was more than happy to sit with you in silence, weathering your storm together.
spencer didn’t know you were nonbinary when you first met. that was ten months ago, back when you only knew him as the cute, clumsy guy who frequented the same park as you. he liked to play chess, you learned, while he noticed you practicing complex yoga poses just a stone’s throw past him. the two of you maintained a respectful distance from one another, though you snuck glances at him, admiring the way his tongue poked out between his lips, and how quickly his hands darted around the board. he never noticed you staring, the same way you didn’t notice his eyes bashfully skating over your figure, sucking in a breath as your shirt rode up, revealing your colourful sports bra and soft tummy.  
you’d existed in the same space, bearing witness to one another’s leisure activities for nearly four months before you interacted beyond a slight smile or shy wave. some days, he sat propped against a tree, reading a thick book or sketching. you were physically closer than ever when he sat under the tree, but you couldn’t have felt further apart. on the days he had a notebook in front of him, pencil sliding across the paper, his gaze never wavered, and you couldn't help but secretly hope he was drawing a portrait of you. spurred on by your daydream, you decided to try out more skillful poses, subconsciously trying to break his concentration, but no dice.  
it wasn’t until you fell out of a handstand and face-planted that the force field between you two broke. he jumped up from his spot under the tree and ran over to you, wiping dirt off your forehead and holding your face as he checked for any scrapes or bruises. you hoped his warm hands couldn’t feel the way your cheeks burned as he scrutinized you. you let out a breathy laugh mixed with a gasp as you realized how close he was. from here, you could see the green around his pupils, blooming into a gorgeous hazel. the wind teased the curls you’d longed to run your hands through. as if jolted by an unseen presence, he realized how close he was to you, quickly dropping his hands from your face and pulling away.
“uh, sorry,” he said, brushing off his pants as he stood.
“no, no, really, it’s okay. thank you. i usually practice my handstands at home, with lots of cushions around.” damn, he was so cute. you tugged your shirt down, suddenly feeling self-conscious in your tight, printed leggings, toes wriggling into the grass.
you stared at each other, unsure of what to say. was it wrong to want his hands back on your face, kissing you like his life depended on it?
“i’m y/n,” you offered.
“spencer.”
“well, it’s lovely to meet you, spencer. thank you again.” shit, was this really going to end here?
“yeah, uhm, you too. y/n.” the words brought a smile to your face, and you loved the way your name fit in his mouth.
he rocked on his feet, as if he were working up the courage to say something.
“okay... bye.” and just like that, he turned to leave. no, no no no no. fuck, think, y/n, think!
“hey!” you shouted, loud enough to startle him. as soon as he turned around, you were blurting out, “do you wanna go out sometime?”
***
you told spencer about your pronouns, along with your gender identity, on the date you’d scheduled for the following weekend, pending his schedule didn’t change. he didn’t offer up any information about his job, or what made his schedule so wonky, and you didn’t ask. you wanted to know anything you could about the man you’d seen at the park so many times, but you didn't want to push him.
you’d agreed to take a walk in the park before heading to a nearby restaurant for dinner. you wanted to give him an easy out, in case he changed his mind about you. you wore a simple top with linen pants and sandals, while he wore a more casual version of what you’d seen him wearing before. slacks, a button-down sans sweater vest, and converse. you met up at the tree you’d seen him reading under before, savouring the way he complimented you. beginning to walk the path, you worked up the nerve to confess your truth.
“so,” you began. “i’ve gotta get something out of the way.” you saw a flash of panic in his eyes, opting to continue before he could ask any questions.
“i’m nonbinary.”
he stopped walking, letting out a breath before turning to you. fuck, you thought. this is it. he’s gonna be scared off just like everyone else before him. considering how long you'd hoped for this moment, this would be the hardest loss of them all. but you couldn't compromise yourself, in the same way you wouldn't be able to change his mind if he thought your gender identity was too much baggage.
you were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn’t see the smile on his face. you also realized neither of you had said anything since your initial admission.
“spencer?” his name sounded like a plea, with a tinge of hope lining your voice.
“okay.”
“okay?” that’s it?
“what pronouns would you like me to refer to you with?”
the question was one you’d heard before, but it sounded so much... better coming from him. you felt a flutter in your heart, a smile budding on your face as he slipped his hand into yours.
“y/n," you reintroduced yourself. "they/them/theirs.”
he nodded at that, beginning to walk again. you didn’t expect him to speak again, and you definitely weren't expecting what he said next.
“spencer,” he said. “he/him/his.”
you squeezed his hand, the flutter in your heart replaced with something different, something... warm. you really hoped this would last.
***  
ten months later, you were sat at the kitchen table, having breakfast for dinner, with your boyfriend recalling some conversation he’d had with the team.
“and i told morgan, y/n always stays up waiting for me on the couch, but sometimes she falls asleep and-”
he immediately froze, not missing the way you flinched behind your coffee mug. for a second, he thought he should’ve just kept talking, quickly correcting himself and continuing with the story. he knew you disliked when people made a big deal out of messing up your pronouns, but he couldn’t help himself.
“y/n, i-”
you were quick to cut him off.
“spence, it’s okay. it was an accident.” your voice didn’t reveal your hurt, but spencer didn't miss the look in your eyes, the way your brow furrowed as you tried to keep his slip up from getting to you. it wasn't personal. it was an accident. but it still hurt.
“y/n, i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he started rambling, leaving you no room to interrupt. “i’m sorry, i know your pronouns. i would never misgender you on purpose or do anything to hurt you.” he reached across the table, grabbing your hands and squeezing them tightly. “you’re my y/n/n, my beanie. i love you so much. i’m sorry.”
he'd started weeping at the initial mess up, but now he was fully crying, harder than you'd ever seen. it scared you more than it confused you. why was he so upset?  
“spence, baby, it’s okay,” you begged him to believe you, but he only dropped his head against your hands, his tears wetting your skin. “spencer,” you said, more insistently. 
you sighed, realizing he wasn’t letting up. you pulled your hands out from under his head, hoping he’d look up at you, but he dropped his head onto the table instead. what was up with him? seriously, people called you “she” all the time, and it was rarely malicious. you were used to it, but he was always bothered, correcting people so you didn’t have to. he really was the perfect boyfriend.  
abruptly, you stood up, grabbing his arm and pulling with all your weight. he gave in, letting you drag him to the couch. you sat down, the worn leather squeaking as you tucked your feet under yourself. you tugged him down to sit next to you, cradling his head against your chest like he'd done with you so many times before when you were upset. you kissed his forehead and stroked his hair until his breathing slowed down.
“you okay, baby?” your words were met with a murmur, but it was better than nothing. “spence?”
you tilted his head so you could look each other in the eye.
“what’s going on, lovey?”
it was his turn to sigh, his nostrils flaring as his big ole brain searched for the right words.
“i’m sorry.”
you didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue.
“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean it, but i know it still hurts. your pronouns are part of you, and i’ve seen first-hand how much it bugs you when someone refers to you as ‘she’ or ‘her.’ i know you take it personally, and i don't blame you. i know i'll never understand how much it affects you, or why, and i never, ever, want to be the person who makes you feel that way.”
“i know, spence, it’s okay.”
“but it’s not, y/n!” his words were frantic, but he took a deep breath to try and calm himself. “i’m sorry. i just, i’ve never messed up before.”
so that’s what is was. god, on the one hand, you were grateful he took it so... personally? no. you couldn’t put your finger on it, but the fact that he cared so much made you feel loved, and seen. he knew how much it hurt you, and it hurt him just as much.
“baby, thank you.”
he looked you right in the eye, confused as to why you were thanking him.
“thank you, for loving me. for being you. spence, i... i’ve never had anyone who’s cared so much. you’re right, it does hurt, but i love you. i know you didn’t mean any harm, and i know you would never do it on purpose. you don’t have to beat yourself up, okay?”
he still seemed upset, so you reached around, hooking your pinky with his. his lip quirked up at that, and he adjusted so he could press his palm to yours, entwining your fingers.
“i love you, beanie.”
“i love you, too, baby. so so much.”
137 notes · View notes
dissident-vedder · 3 years
Text
- fame ( 𝐄.𝐕. )
Tumblr media
ADD YOURSELF TO MY TAGLIST!
you are a famous child actor that eddie has had a crush on ever since he could remember. now that you are a young woman in your twenties filming for the movie 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑒𝑠, maybe it was fate that brought you two together.
A/N - layout by @adoresobs​!  i don’t know, this may suck.
Tumblr media Tumblr media
acting had been your passion. ever since you were five years old, you graced the screens of many tvs and movie theaters, going from playing an artist’s daughter on sesame street in 1973 to one of the older orphaned teenagers on the musical annie to a lifeguard on baywatch. your character on the show was taken off due to filming conflicts; they had written her so she got an opportunity to go to college with a full-ride scholarship. all throughout your nineteen-year acting career, young eddie had watched every movie and show you were in, his crush on the [y/r] woman that glorified every monitor you were on.
when he was nine years old, he began rewatching sesame street just because you were on it. his friends at school made fun of him, but they just didn’t understand. they didn’t understand his need to see you on his tv screen, to hear you speak. he began watching baywatch when it came out in 1989 just because he heard you were on it. and he was mesmerized by the way your body fit into that swimsuit, the way you looked so perfect when you ran despite them always putting it in slow motion, the way your hair bounced everytime your foot made contact with the sand. he was in love with every inch of you.
in 1991, when he heard that you were no longer going to be on baywatch, he was disheartened. his favorite actress saving people after they did something he loved to do was addicting to him. he longed to be in their spot. but then he heard that it was due to filming conflicts, and knew immediately that it was because you had other things coming out. when he and his band released their debut album, ten, he hoped it got big enough for them have their names be heard around the world. he hoped you listened to their music, hoped that you loved his voice and the lyrics he wrote, loved the music videos.
close to his birthday in 1991, he heard that you had an interview with david letterman, and he was going to watch it. he had to. he flipped to the channel it was on and waited for you to come onstage. when you were introduced by letterman, the audience cheered as you walked out onstage in a black loose minidress with spaghetti straps, your hair done in the latest style as you waved to the camera, smiling widely as you got nearer to letterman and gave him a hug. it was short, quick, and you say down immediately once the two of you pulled away. the interview went on as usual, david asking you if you had any upcoming projects, you answering them vaguely, and you recounting stories from the photos he showed, laughing at the funny bits, blushing when you got to an embarrassing detail that involved you, and nodding to show you understood the question you were being asked. “have you been eyeing anybody as of now?” letterman asked. “you’ve been single since you debuted in acting back in 1973, and now you are a twenty-three year old woman, and no sign of a lover!” the audience chuckles at him.
“um. . .” you laugh a little. “i haven’t been seeing anybody, i’m a busy person, so i don’t have much time even for myself, let alone somebody else. but god. . .” you rubbed your elbow, a telltale sign you were a bit nervous. “eddie vedder from the band pearl jam is really cute. i wouldn’t mind meeting him.”
“that’s who your eyeing?” letterman asks. you nod, and eddie feels his heart swell in his chest. you knew who he was. you knew his band, you listened to him, watched his interviews. “yeah,” you defend, “i like energetic guys with blue eyes and long brown hair. he’s cute.” someone in the audience whistles and cheers, causing you to laugh. “he is! i’d love to meet him someday.” eddie’s palms begin to sweat, his eyes widen and he begins breathing heavily. he was your type. you liked him.
“have you listened to their album?”
“i’m sorry?” You turn your attention back to letterman.
“have you listened to pearl jam’s album?”
“yes, i have!” you nod. “it’s amazing!”
“what’s your favorite song?” letterman organizes the pile of notes in his hand, the rhythmic sound of the pat, pat, pat sounding loudly through eddie’s tv speaker. you click your tongue, leaning back in your chair, hands holding on to the armrests.
“oh, god, that’s hard,” you thought for a moment. “it’s a tie between oceans, garden, and black.” your hands tap against the rests three times — left, right, left. “it’s hard to choose, he’s got such a dreamy voice!” you chuckle, trying to calm yourself down as the small weepings of your crush begin to come out of you. they’ve done some interviews for their album and a few live shows, which you’ve watched as much as you could in order to see the frontman, loving the way he was so energetic and full of happiness.
the rest of the interview went by in a blur for you and eddie, and he went to bed, your face imprinted on the backs of his eyelids as he fell asleep.
a few short months had passed before eddie and the rest of the band were asked to come on-set to act out their very few scenes, not knowing who else, other than matt dillon and chris cornell, were going to be there. you were off-camera, readjusting your jean jacket sleeves as matt and the others were getting ready for the restaurant scene. eddie was sitting across from matt, on the edge of the seat, sharpie in hand as he listened to what jeff was reading about the fictional band, citizen dick. you noticed him, hair tucked behind his right ear as he said one of his only lines, “a compliment for us, is a compliment for you.”
cliff, matt’s character, begins to object, when you were given the clue to get on-set and sit next to matt, as you were playing his childhood friend, ruby. eddie’s face showed momentary shock as you sat on matt’s left thigh — as was scripted — and took a sip of the coffee from his cup. “i’m guessing you all read the news article about you, huh?” you restated the line you read over and over in your home and in the dressing room, your arms crossing in front of you and you begin leaning on them, forearms pressed against the wood.
“yeah,” matt placed his hand on your hip, sensing that you had gotten a little wobbly and was making sure you didn’t fall. “this negative energy just makes me stronger.” you chortle into the cup, “sure.”  the watch your character wore began beeping, alerting you to act as if you were rushing. “i have to go, see you all later!” a chorus of deep, male, “bye!” follows you as you walked over to the diner’s door and walk out. the director yelled out, “cut!” and all of you knocked out of character.
Tumblr media
standing in line to grab a quick lunch, you eyed the crowd, in search of the frontman of the grunge band, quickly recognizing him by his bandmates, his blue eyes frantically looking around. once he spotted you looking at him, his cheeks flare up, heat rushing into them as he looked back to his friends. he wanted to come up to you and talk, but he was just too shy, too flustered to make any real conversation, let alone any small talk. if only he had the confidence one of his former classmates had, then he would make conversation, ask you out on a date and just overall be with you. noticing his hesitation, you planned to talk to him later when he was away from his bandmates just so he was at ease in some form and they weren’t around to make fun of him; you could at least do that much for him. 
Tumblr media
“eddie!” you called out as he walked away from your direction, not noticing you sitting on one of the couches in the lounge area, standing up from the comfortable cushion to make your way over to him. he paused midstep, recognizing your voice instantly, heartrate picking up at the thought of you talking to him, hearing your footsteps coming closer to him. clenching his hands in his jacket pockets, he takes a deep breath before facing you, blue eyes wide as he eyes your figure coming closer to him, a reassuring smile sketched on your lips. “are you alright? you look a little nervous,” you stated, eyebrows furrowing as you noticed the somewhat deep breaths the frontman took.
“yeah,” he blushes deeper. “y-yeah, i’m fine.” he clears his throat. “what are you doing here?” 
“i work here,” you chuckle lowly, crossing your arms across your chest. “but are you okay, really? remember, i’m an actress. i can tell when someone is acting or not.”
so you saw through his lie, he noted. “um. . . i’m just nervous to be around you, that’s all.”
“why?”
“’cause he has a crush on you, that’s why!” mike’s voice calls out through the studio, causing eddie’s blush to become deeper and to spread across his ears, his head bowing to hide his face. 
“really?”
a nod. you took a step forward, reaching forward to take the cook county native’s face in your hands, moving it so it faced you, a small smile on your lips, reassuring and warm. “you want to take this somewhere your bandmates wouldn’t interfere?” 
another nod.
“okay, come on,” you took his hand in yours, leading him through the many corridors and crew members to what was your dressing room, a private place that was rare nowadays. “sit anywhere you’d like.” there was the makeup chairs you sat in every single day, multiple times a day, a sofa in the corner of the room, and a director’s chair with your last name stamped onto the back. he took the sofa, hearing you lock the door behind you, giving you and him more privacy. “i’m sorry your friend did that,” you said as you made your way to the makeup chair, one foot still on the floor while the other was resting on the crosshatched wood pieces between the legs of the chair. you did it to give him the space he possibly needed, but to eddie, it seemed like you were avoiding him. his heart broke even more. 
“i should’ve expected that, if i’m being honest,” he chuckled, trying to get rid of the embarassment that settled deep in his bones, but you still saw the blush that was slowly creeping away. 
“they still had no right to do that,” with this, you stand up, make your way across the room, and sit down next to him, taking his hand in yours. they were warm; rough at the fingertips at the many years of playing guitar. you could feel the small calluses that were healing, the small imprints of the guitar strings, telling you that he had been playing recently, locked away in some small room. you sighed, “today is your last day here on set. i didn’t get to spend enough time to know you, but i got to talk to your bandmates.”
he nods, “yeah, i guess time works in mysterious ways.”
“but it doesn’t have to. how about i take you out to dinner?”
shocked, his head snaps up, peering into your [y/e/c] eyes, round and hopeful. “really?” you nod, laughing when you see his smile widen. “yes, really.”
“i’d love to!”
TAGLIST:
@stateofloveandvedder​ @state-of-love-and-lust​ @honeysympathy​ @grossgold​ @sea-sxns​ @d-arknecessities
63 notes · View notes
jenn-i-guess · 3 years
Text
Kiribaku Childhood Friends AU: Chapter Two
Bakugou still kept that damned plushie.
It was childish of him to keep such a thing whilst attending middle school, and while training to become the next number one hero.
But it was Eijirou’s!
He couldn’t just get rid of it. Bakugou barely got to see his best friend already, attending different schools and all. Katsuki was attending Aldera, and Kirishima was going to a private school called Mustafa.
They still hung out of course!
In fact that’s what they were doing right now, in Bakugou’s room.
Kirishima had come over for help on some math equations that he had absolutely no idea how to do. Which Bakugou had agreed to help him with those pesky decimals and fractions, if Eijirou talked about his day. Leaving nothing out.
Katsuki wouldn’t call himself a clingy friend, he was just worried about him. It was hard so use to seeing Eijirou every day since they were kids and now having to be separated from him.
“Bakugouuu.” Kirishima whined, his cheek smushed onto Katsuki’s desk. “You said you would help meee.”
He snickered, writing down in his own private notebook. “You still haven’t told me about your day, dumbass.”
Eijirou huffed and rolled his eyes, sitting up straighter, “And I already told you! I didn’t do anything but attend that boring school. I mean, I hung out with Tomo at lunch, but we didn’t really-”
“Who’s Tomo?” Kirishima had his attention now, Bakugou staring at him from his bed while furiously clutching his pencil.
Kirishima shrugged, pushing some strands of black hair back from his face. “He’s just a classmate I got partnered with for a project.” He explained, tapping his own writing utensil on his paper.
Okay. Bakugou let out a deep breath. Tomo wasn’t even a friend! Just a classmate. Just a classmate.
“He’s kind of rude though, makes jokes about my size.” Eijirou pouted, sticking out his bottom lip in a cute childish way.
Bakugou had to laugh at that.
It was true, Kirishima was very short, even if none of them hit puberty yet. Bakugou was at least three centimeters taller.
“Rude!” Kirishima glared at him. “Now will you please help me with these stupid equations?”
Katsuki stood up from his bed and walked over, leaning over his desk to stare down at his friend’s paper.
It. Was. A. Mess.
Eijirou’s horrible hand-writing was all over the place, writing questions in the margins, doodling on blank spaces.
“First of all,” Bakugou started, earning a hopeful grin from Kirishima. “Erase everything.” His grin turned into a frown as he stubbornly scrubbed the pink eraser over his whole paper.
————
Kirishima whacked his head on the desk as they finally finished, mentally exhausted from having to remember every single equation Bakugou has said to him.
“Fuckin finally.” Katsuki sighed, stretching his arms over his head as his back let out pleasing cracks and pops. “God, it’s hard to get anything through your thick skull.” He complained.
“I know! I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to make up for it?” Kirishima asked, rubbing his droopy eyes.
Bakugou thought for a moment before he stood up, Eijirou doing the same. As they got towards his bed, Katsuki sat down and opened his notebook, the bed sinking a bit as the raven-haired sat next to him. “Help me with this.”
He showed the first page of the notebook to Kirishima, a picture of a body figure-kind of similar to Katsuki’s-sketched with what looked like costume ideas. Hero costume ideas.
And they weren’t bad sketches either, no they were detailed. Eijirou sat with his mouth agape as he looked at the drawings and back up to Bakugou’s eyes.
“This is so cool! Is this you?” He asked, a wild grin appearing on his face.
Bakugou’s cheeks flushed as he pulled the notebook away, fumbling with the page. “Yeah. I just need help with the costume.” He mumbled, and Bakugou never mumbled. It was kind of cute to see him act so shy.
“But it already looks completed. What d’you need my help for?” Eijirou asked.
Katsuki sighed and flipped the pages, “I have ideas, I just need help choosing some.” He explained.
“Oh!”
They stared at each other, both expecting one another to say something first, before Kirishima nervously spoke, “Well-those gauntlets look cool. They’re a bit boring though. Maybe put a design on them?” He asked.
Bakugou stared blankly at him before tilting his head, “Designs?”
“Yeah! Make them look cool! Something to match your quirk.”
He hummed in thought before staring down at his hand, balling it up into a fist.
Something that would match his quirk? What would match explosions?
“How about,” he started, watching Kirishima’s eyebrows raised in anticipation. “Grenades?”
His eyes widened when he saw that Eijirou’s ruby orbs were sparkling. “That’s so cool!”
Bakugou scoffed but began sketching, his pencil scratching against the paper.
When he was finished drawing grenade-looking gauntlets, he tilted his head back up to talk to Eijirou again when his nose brushed against something.
Holy shit!
Bakugou leaned back in surprise when he realized his nose had touched another nose because Kirishima was so close! And he wasn’t even looking at him. He was staring down at the paper, smiling when he saw the sketched out design.
“Yeah! That looks good!” He remarked, completely oblivious about Bakugou’s internal panic above him.
Shit! He was so close. And he smelled...so good. Like a mix of lavender and cherries. The smell was intoxicating and Bakugou had to scoot back before he did something stupid (like kiss him).
“So what else were you working on?” Kirishima asked cluelessly.
“N-Nothing else.” Bakugou stammered, closing his notebook entirely from those prying eyes.
“Oh.” Eijirou’s stance deflated a little before he sparked up another question, “Oo! How about your hero name?”
Bakugou smirked, closing his eyes as he triumphantly said, “Lord Explosion Murder.”
There was silence in the air before Katsuki whipped his head around angrily to see Kirishima giggling at him.
Giggling! Not fucking fair!
“Lord-pfft-Explosion Murder?” Eijirou chuckled, his body bouncing up and down as he shook with laughter.
“Yeah, whats fuckin wrong with it?” Bakugou growled, holding his palm up intimidatingly even though he knew it wouldn’t work on him.
“Nothing! Nothing, just uh-” Kirishima snorted, “Isn’t that a bit violent?”
Bakugou balked when he realized that he was absolutely right. And because of it, he smacked Kirishima over the head with his notebook, “Shut up! I can’t think of anything else.” He grumbled.
“Okay! Okay!” Eijirou calmed down, rubbing the red mark that was now on his forehead. He shook his head and cleared his throat.
That’s when Katsuki noticed. That’s when he noticed just how long Kirishima’s hair was getting.
“Your hair.”
Eijirou blinked, looking up at Bakugou like a deer in headlights.
Bakugou unconsciously brought his hand up, fingers grazing the soft locks of deep black hair. “Your hair. ‘S getting long.” He mumbled, combing his slender fingers through the sleeks strands.
“Oh.” Kirishima whispered, his heart accelerating at the rough fingers caressing him. “Um, yeah. I’ve been growing it out.”
The action was so tender. So affectionate. So unlike Bakugou. But the feeling was nice, Kirishima couldn’t help but let his eyes flutter at the attention.
“Hm. It’s nice.” Bakugou, drawing his soothing fingers back and into his lap.
Kirishima almost whined at the loss of touch, but soon yawned. He was bone tired, exhausted from his hard mental work, straining to keep his eyes open.
Bakugou didn’t notice, he had started going through his notebook again, stopping at the page filled with notes about his fighting tactics. He didn’t notice when the raven-haired boy drifted in and out of consciousness.
He really just wanted to lay his head down and sleep for a week.
Bakugou definitely, absolutely, did not notice at all when Eijirou’s head leaned onto his shoulder, soft hair tickling on his skin. And he definitely did not react by leaning his own head down on that pillowy softness.
And as he heard Eijirou’s soft snores, he felt himself begin to relax as well, inhaling his senses to smell like Kirishima’s shampoo.
Well, it was relaxing.
Until Mitsuki slammed the door open and said Kirishima had to go home.
That for sure woke Kirishima up from his five-minute rest.
He blushed heavily when he felt the heavy weight of Katsuki’s own head on his, squirming to stand up when he saw Bakugou’s mother in the room, grinning from ear to ear at the two of them.
Katsuki glared at his mom, standing up while brushing off his sweaty palms.
“Fuck off.” He growled.
“Language, Katsuki.”
31 notes · View notes
novannna · 3 years
Text
Best of Friends
Word count: 1663
@renegadesnet event 4: osby october ↪ [ Ruby’s Pov-she is in love with Oscar, but doesn’t think he loves her back.  Takes place sometime before Renegades.  Yearning, kinda angsty, a little bit of fluff between sketch’s team.   ]
Ruby watched Oscar from across the lounge while he was talking to Adrian.  They had just gotten back from their patrol, and were relaxing in HQ.
“Ruby!”  She heard someone snap.  Danna was standing right next to her, an irritated expression on her face.  
“Sorry,” she said sheepishly.  “What were you saying?”
Danna sighed. “I said Adrian wants us to meet at his house later for a movie.”
“Oh.  Will Oscar be there?”  Ruby asked hopefully. 
 “Probably.  Adrian asked the whole team.  And you should come.  It’ll be fun.”
Ruby shrugged.  “Sure, sounds good.”  She turned back to glance at Oscar.  
Danna sat next to her.  “You two are perfect for each other.  Why don’t you just ask him out already?”
Ruby blushed beet red.  “What- I, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she stammered.  
Danna raised an eyebrow.  
“Oscar is just a friend.  He’s just another member of the team.  I don’t like him like that.”
“Then why do you keep looking at him like he’s the only thing in the world?”
Ruby ducked her head.  “I don’t like Oscar.”
Danna chuckled.  “Of course you don’t.  Silly of me to think any different.”
Ruby nodded her head sharply.  “Exactly.  Quite silly of you.”  
“Hey guys,” Adrian’s voice cut into their conversation.  “What are you talking about.”
“Nothing!”  Ruby said quickly as she saw Oscar right behind Adrian.  
“I was just telling Ruby about movie night,” Danna said smoothly.
“Oh.  Are you going?”  Oscar asked.
“I think so.  Are you?”  Ruby asked.  
Danna and Adrian exchanged an eyeroll.  
“Yeah!  It’s gonna be fun.”  Oscar slung an arm over Adrian's shoulder.  “Adrian’s promised me lots of popcorn and red vines, so you bet I’ll be there.”
Adrian shook his head.  “Don’t worry, Oscar will have his own bowl.  Otherwise we wouldn’t get any.”
Oscar laughed.  “You know me too well.”  
“Well, I’ve spent enough nights crying myself to sleep because you took all my food to know that you get your own, and we share the rest,” Adrian joked.  
“Unless he runs out, and eats ours too,” Danna added.  
“Hey, I make no promises.”  Oscar laughed.  “In fact, I’m hungry right now.  I’m going to go change, then does anyone wanna go to Mcdonalds with me?”
Danna wrinkled her nose.  “Mcdonalds?  I’m good.  I don’t understand how you like that crap.”
“You can have your own opinion,” Oscar said haughtily.  “But mine is obviously the right one.” 
“I’ll go,” Adrian said.  “I’m pretty hungry as well.”
“Ruby, what about you?”  Oscar asked.  
She felt a burst of excitement rise inside her.  Oscar wanted her there!
“Oh, I don’t know.  My mom probably wants me home soon…” she said, trying her hardest to keep the quiver of glee out of her voice.  
“Please,” he begged.  “I want to hang out with my best friends.”
And just like that, Ruby’s excitement withered away to nothing.  She tried not to look crestfallen.  Best Friends.
That was all they were.  That was all they were going to be.  Just best friends.  Not anything more.  Oh, that cut deep into Ruby’s heart.  If only he knew how much she yearned to be with him.  If only he knew that she fell in love with him the moment she saw him, just the boy with a cane, standing in the center of a studium, screaming fans all around.  She fell apart every single time he reminded her what they were.  And she still wanted so badly.  She was in love with the renegade who could control smoke.  She was in love with the boy who loved all sorts of food.  She was in love with the boy who loved to play video games with her.  She was in love with the brave, kind, selfless, smart, handsome, reckless, funny, charming, awkward boy Oscar was.  
But he did not love her back.  
He never would
They were always going to be best friends.  She heard that enough, you would have thought that it would begin to hurt less.
Danna winced next to Ruby.  
“Yeah, come on Ruby!  I’m sure your mom won't mind too much,” Adrian chimed in.  
“... I guess.”  Ruby shrugged.  “But I can’t stay out for too long.”
“Yes,” Oscar cheered.  “Danna you coming?  You can watch us eat, and be sad about how wrong you are.”
“No.  My dad needs help around the house today.  Some other time though,”  Danna said.  
“Okay.  We’ll miss you!”  Adrian said.  
Danna nodded. “Of course you will.”  She waved goodbye, then burst into her black and gold butterfly swarm.  
“I’m going to go change.  I’ll meet you guys here,” Ruby said.  
“Yeah.  See you soon.”  
Ruby smiled, and hurried off to the changing rooms.  
---
Ruby knocked on the door to Adrian’s house.  The mansion’s windows were bright against the dark evening sky.  
“Ruby!”  Hugh said brightly, as he opened the door.  “I assume Adrian invited you over?”
“Yeah,” she replied, trying to sound brave.  She knew that he was Adrian’s dad, but he was also the most important person in the city.  It was hard to not be intimidated by the man.  
“Go on down.  Danna and Oscar are already there,” he said warmly.  
“Thanks.”  she hurried down to the basement, where Danna, Adrian and Oscar lay sprawled across the floor.  An assortment of snacks and blankets were scattered everywhere.  
“Hey guys,” she said brightly.  
They all started.  
“Ruby, you scared me!”  Oscar said.  He put a hand on his chest.  
Her face reddened.  “Sorry,” she said sheepishly.
“Oh, it's fine,” Oscar replied, his face red as well.  
“Come on, we were just deciding which movie to watch,” Adrian said, patting a spot on the ground next to him.  
Ruby plopped down, and shoveled a handful of popcorn from a nearby bowl into her mouth.  
“What are the options?” 
“Avengers, Up, or The Sound of Music.”  Adrian gestured to the TV.  “You choose which one.”
“Oh, ummm, how ‘bout Avengers,” she suggested.  “I haven’t seen that in a while.”
“Sounds good,” Adrian said.  He picked up the remote, and started to turn on the TV.  
“Ruby, can you pass me the cheez its?”  Oscar called out.  He was now sitting on the couch, a pleading expression on his face.  
Ruby laughed.  “Alright.”  She leaned over and stretched her fingers out to snag the red box.  She stood, and walked them over to Oscar.  
“Thanks,” he said, while grabbing a huge handful from inside.  
“No problem,” she replied.  Ruby sat down next to him, fully conscious of the thin layers separating him.  She leaned backwards, and tucked her feet up underneath her.  
Danna smirked when she saw the two of them right next to each other.  She discreetly made a heart shape with her hands, then pointed to the two of them.  Ruby raised her middle finger in reply, while Oscar remained oblivious.  
The starting music sounded, and Ruby focused on the screen, desperately trying to think about anything but the boy sitting next to her.  And it almost worked.  But the warmth from his body pressed against hers was another painful reminder that she was ever going to get what she wanted more than anything.  Ruby sighed to herself.  
Why couldn’t she settle for just friends?  Why did she have to want something more?  It was never going to happen, and she was just breaking her heart more with every passing minute.  
“No Ruby,” she thought to herself.  “Don’t think about Oscar.  Don’t do this to yourself.”  Her eyes remained firmly focused on the screen, but her brain was not paying any attention at all.  It was too busy constructing wild fantasies in her head.  
After a while, soft snores filled the room.  Adrian had fallen asleep, his face pressed against the floor.  Danna raised her eyebrows, and stifled a small giggle.  
But she fell asleep next.  After another twenty or so minutes, Ruby looked over to see her slumped against a bean bag, her blonde dreadlocks spread across her face.  
“Just you and me, huh?”  Oscar whispered to her.  
“Yeah.”  Ruby’s voice was calm, but on the inside her heart was racing.  She had never been alone with Oscar before.  Granted, Adrian and Danna were there, but it was just the two of them, sitting next to each other, the movie playing quietly in front of them.  .  
“I wonder which of us is going to fall asleep next?”  Oscar chuckled.  
“I wonder,” Ruby echoed.  “The movie’s pretty close to ending.”
Oscar nodded.  “Yeah.  It is.”  He yawned.  “I don’t know if I’ll make it that long though.  I’m pretty tired.”
Ruby laughed softly.  “Sleep then.  It’s not like you haven’t seen this movie before.”
“Maybe I will.”  He rested his head on her shoulder, and closed his eyes.  “You’re a good friend Ruby,” he murmured, right before his breathing slowed, and he fell asleep.  
Ruby was glad no one else was awake to see the anguish on her face.  To see the pain of just one more reminder that Oscar did not love her the same way she loved him.  
“I love you Oscar,” she whispered into the darkness.  “Every time I see you, it makes my heart hurt.  I love you more than I could ever love myself.  But for some reason, you can’t see it.  I wish that you could tell me if there was the slightest chance you might return my feelings.  Then maybe I would know how pointless this stupid crush is.”  She screwed her eyes shut, and felt tears leaking out the corners.  
“I love you so much, and I will always love you.”  Ruby opened her eyes, and swiped the tears away with the back of her hand.  He looked so beautiful sleeping.  She smiled softly.  She placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, then rested her head on his and closed her eyes.  
Ruby was closer to him than ever before, but at the same time, she was farther than she could ever imagine.  
32 notes · View notes