((No quirk AU))

The quiet yet persistent din of leaves pittering against your apartment’s window pulled your distant gaze away from your stockings as you tried to pull them up. It was a beautiful sight, really—the gorgeous fall scenery from your modest flat in SoHo, New York. Finally, you willed your stockings to rest over where they ended on your mid thigh, lacy black detailing sewn into the hem. You sighed softly, pulling your fitted black pencil skirt over your hips before tucking your long-sleeved white dress shirt into the polyester material.

——

After stepping into the train, you thought over the circumstances of your situation. You had been relocated from your original office location in SoHo to the main building in Westside, Manhattan. It was a longer drive, and definitely a richer neighborhood. You had spent most of your extra cash on this fancy professional wear. It felt out of place. You felt out of place.

You had been tasked with being the right hand to a man named Katsuki Bakugo. Allegedly, he’d fired every secretary he’s ever had. From his file, you knew the basics: he was 6’2, 25 years old, intolerant to any kind of mistakes or excuses, and he had a wife named Charlotte. This job wouldn’t be easy. On top of it all, you knew nothing of the area, even if it was relatively close.

When you arrived at the office, you held your head high. If no one could see your faults and insecurity, they wouldn’t exist. You had your laptop and files in hand, supported by your elbow. You walked with proud, long strides, your black kitten heels clicking against the marbled flooring. Arriving at Bakugo’s office, you tried to stand tall in the face of his intimidation. You didn’t truly care who this man was. He wouldn’t talk to you as if you were less than.

Seeing this, Bakugo paused. He’d never seen anyone so breathtaking. He stood beside his desk with his hands shoved into his pockets for a long moment, just staring at you. Quickly, he realized how disgustingly pathetic his feelings were. The almighty Katsuki Bakugo, the number one business owner and CEO in New York would not fall for this. He scoffed at himself and approached you with a scowl.

“Who are you?” He demanded, completely ignoring the way you seemed so confident in your means. You were the definition of an office siren.