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digitalsatyr23 · 1 year ago

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Writing Commissions

Status: Closed! (Slots 3/3)

Hi! My name’s digitalSatyr23 (or Sachii as my friends call me). I’m a writer that dabbles in a variety of genres, but I spend a lot of time writing dark fantasy and horror. I’m currently available for writing commissions (primarily short stories and novelettes). Do you have a story idea you’d like to see fleshed out? Do you want to put your characters or OCs in a... Situation? Then perhaps I can be of help!

Genres I can write:

Fantasy

Horror

Mystery

Science Fiction

Slice of Life

Romance

Things I can’t/won’t write:

Detailed historical fiction (I’d be out of my depth, sorry)

Political thrillers (Again, just not suited to this kind of story)

Graphic depictions of abuse of any kind (though regular violence/death is fine, I just don’t want to write about all the minute ways a character is suffering because that just feels weird to me)

Fan Fiction (I would much prefer writing original content)

Extreme NSFW (there are too many things to list but assume that if the main point of the story is fetish fuel content then that’s a no from me, though light NSFW is a maybe, but again, there should be more going on in the story idea besides the NSFW content)

Nonfiction (I’m a fiction author after all)

My Rates: $9 per 1000 words (minimum $9 if below 1000 words). It can be difficult to know exactly how long a piece can be, but I encourage setting word count limits so I know what parameters to work within. If you’re unsure, we can discuss how big or small the story might be based on your idea. Either way, I ask for the full calculated price of the commission upfront. I offer free edits (and usually do a once-over to take care of any spelling or grammatical errors I might have missed), and feedback and critique to get the commission closer to your vision is highly encouraged. My goal is to make sure your story is in its best possible form, so I’ll work with you if any changes are required (within reason). Also, if you’ve set a word count limit and I accidentally go over that amount then the excess is free (I’m usually pretty good about this but sometimes I can go over a tad to avoid something feeling rushed).

My Limits: I generally want to stick to short stories and novelettes, so my hard cap on how long a story can be is about 20,000 words. For reference, if the final product was 12pt font in Times New Roman with 1.5 line spacing, that would be roughly 63 pages of text. If you’re unfamiliar with how word count can translate to page count, this site can be pretty handy for calculating things.

What I need from you: We can discuss the finer details of your commission via tumblr’s messenger, but generally what I’m looking for is a rough synopsis of what the story is supposed to be about, as well as information on important characters. Information can include (but is not limited to): their name, their age, a basic description, their role/profession, what they’re good at, some things they like and dislike, a strong want/desire, a notable character flaw, and what their goal in the story is. Any other relevant information should be included as well, like important parts of their history.

In addition, if there are any specific things you’d like included in the story, let me know. For example, maybe you want a fight scene in the middle of a snow storm, or maybe two characters having a date in a specific kind of restaurant. Give me as much detail about what you’d like to see in your story because otherwise I’ll fill in the blanks with what makes the most sense (consulting with you, of course).

Payment: I generally use paypal, so once we work out the commission details, I’ll need an e-mail address associated with your account so I can send you an invoice. Also, in the hypothetical scenario that we estimate the story to be of a certain cost and what I asked for up front ends up being more than what the actual story’s cost would be, we can arrange a refund so you don’t overpay for your story.

Examples of my writing: What the Fire Said (Dark Fantasy/Short Story) What Keeps Me Going (Dark Fantasy/Novelette) My Shadow (Horror/Short Story) The Spaces In-Between (Horror/Short Story)

#writing commissions #commissions #writing community #creative writing #commission info #commissions open

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f1 · 2 years ago

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Mercedes have more performance in the locker for coming races Russell | RaceFans Round-up

In the round-up: George Russell says Mercedes made clear progress between the first two races of the season and will bring more improvements in the coming rounds. In brief Russell sees early progress at Mercedes After being disappointed by their start to the season in Bahrain, Mercedes looked in better shape in Saudi Arabia where both drivers finished ahead of the Ferraris. Russell, who took fourth ahead of team mate Lewis Hamilton, said they “definitely made a step in the right direction.” “Above all we just truly maximised the potential of the car,” he explained. “We had a really strong qualifying which was really enjoyable. I’d really pleased to come home in P4 on the road because I felt like that was the maximum that was possible. “I was having fun up there, the car was feeling good. We know we’ve got some more performance in the locker, in some races to come.” “Every little margin matters” in “crazy” midfield Zhou Guanyu says the contest in the midfield is so close this year the smallest mistakes can have a significant impact. “I think realistically we are fighting from P9 to P13, 14,” said the Alfa Romeo driver, who finished 13th on Sunday. “Everything can happen and one little mistake or one little thing you get wrong, you could be compromised from a points finish to a struggle at the back. “So this season is really crazy, but it’s really nice in a way that’s every little margin matters.” Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free Links Motor racing links of interest: Norris 'was put in a headlock and robbed of his £144,000 Richard Mille watch' (Daily Mail) 'Suspect One slowly approached me and asked me: 'Is this your car?' I don't recall exactly what happened, but Suspect One then went behind me and put his right arm around my neck and his left arm under my back.' Canapino coming to grips with new sensations on Texas oval (IndyCar) 'Before the test I was really, really nervous, but now I am more comfortable, and I have (developed) respect – a lot of respect – for the oval. For me, the race will be a test race, the same situation as (all races) this year. I want to finish and learn.' Sao Paulo E-Prix round six (IndyCar) Lucas di Grassi: 'It’s very emotional for me to be racing there. I’m from Sao Paulo, I was born just a few minutes away and grew up there. It’s going to be amazing racing in front of my home fans.' Red Bull are in a class of their own once again, but is this an issue for F1? (The Guardian) 'At the sharp end of that organisation, despite Pérez’s victory in Jeddah, realistically it is Verstappen who will lead the charge. Pérez is bullish about his chances but it is hard to picture this season even presenting a two-horse race but rather another canter to the line for the world champion’s third title in a row.' In Profile: Beganovic (F3) 'Michael Schumacher (is my racing hero) – I really got inspired by what he was doing and what he has done to the sport. Then, he made me become a Ferrari fan as well, so he’s my hero.' F1 farce that saw Fernando Alonso wait four hours to confirm podium place proves FIA is not fit for purpose (The Sun) 'F1 and the teams are understandably running out of patience. Last Sunday was a mess and it needs to be addressed, not in the form of an amendment to an out-of-date rulebook that's open to interpretation, but by establishing a set group of professional stewards who oversee all the races and are answerable for their decisions.' We always endeavour to credit original sources. If you have a tip for a link relating to single-seater motorsport to feature in the next RaceFans round-up please send it to us via the contact form. Advert | Become a RaceFans supporter and go ad-free Happy birthday! Happy birthday to Gary Richardson, Gaz, Thomahawk_93, Thomas Martin and Alec Glen! On this day in motorsport via RaceFans - Independent Motorsport Coverage https://www.racefans.net/

#F1 #Mercedes “have more performance in the locker” for coming races �� Russell | RaceFans Round-up #Formula 1

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phantomtutor · 2 years ago

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Week 2 Discussion Topic: Performance Appraisal Case Study This case deals with the development of a comprehensive performance appraisal and management system that Dr. Amy Carver and her team designed and implemented for Wachovia Bank. Dr. Carver received her Ph.D. in I/O Psychology in 1992 from Rice University. At the time of this case, she was Senior Vice President for Organizational Effectiveness for Wachovia Bank. One of the concerns Dr. Carver had when she got to Wachovia was that they did not have a common performance appraisal and management system. Each year supervisors filled out evaluations, but there were no consistent standards and raises were not closely tied to performance. To remedy this, Dr. Carver and her team put together a comprehensive system that became part of the management/supervision system of the organization. This system tied together annual performance reviews with goal setting, employee development, and supervisor coaching. The system runs on an annual cycle beginning in December. The evaluation portion, which involves both employee self-appraisal and supervisor ratings, is entirely Web-based. Each employee-supervisor pair logs onto the company computer system to complete evaluation forms. These forms are focused on the match between the employee’s competencies, as displayed for the year, and the organization’s competency model for that position. This model, which was derived from a job analysis, is a specification of the competencies and skills needed for doing the job. When both employee and supervisor are done, a report is automatically generated that highlights areas of disagreement, and this becomes the basis for a face-to-face discussion. Around the first of the year, each supervisor meets with each subordinate to discuss his or her performance and to agree on goals for the upcoming year. These goals specify not only what is to be accomplished but also how it is to be done, thus providing a balanced emphasis on both work quality and quantity. The Web-based system sends e-mail reminders to each supervisor at quarterly intervals to conduct required coaching sessions with subordinates to provide feedback about competency and goal progress up to that time of the year. Goals for the future of the system include linking raises each year to performance and making the salary system part of performance management. As you can see, the Wachovia system goes far beyond just completing the usual “report card” on every employee each year. (Spector, 2006 p.103) ReferenceSpector, P.E. (2006). Industrial and Organizational Psychology: Research and Practice (4th ed.). New York: John Wiley & Sons, Inc. Use the following discussion questions to guide your discussion of this case study: Do you think you would like working in a company with this sort of performance system? Why or why not? Why would a company like Wachovia invest so much effort into performance evaluation? Why are managers required to provide quarterly coaching sessions? Isn’t a once-a-year system enough? Do you think goal setting will increase employee motivation and performance? ORDER THIS PAPER NOW. 100% CUSTOM PAPER CategoriesAPA 7th edition, English Leave a Reply Cancel replyYour email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *Comment * Name * Email * Website Save my name, email, and website in this browser for the next time I comment. Post navigation Previous PostPrevious Storytelling and PersuasionNext PostNext toxic masculinity

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herzspalter · 2 years ago

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Hi everyone! I got hit by a big medical bill and this month is gonna be very rough for me financially;

I'm opening 10 slots in total!

If you're interested, please fill this out!

You can keep the description short and send me more via E-mail later, just so you don't lose your spot! The form closes automatically once I have 10 replies!

Thank you so much ;; <3

#commissions #it's been two months haahhhh

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theonewiththefanfics · 4 years ago

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Tomato - Tomato (one-shot)

Synopsis: One is an international rock-star. The other is his loyal assistant. Both are complete morons in love. Also - she’s allergic to tomatoes, and it is important.

This started off as something completely else. hope you enjoy :D

Pairing: Harry Styles x fem!Assistant!Reader

Genre: fluff, minor angst

Warnings: two idiots pining for one another, swearing, mentions of allergies and EpiPens

Word count: 3492

Being an assistant to someone famous wasn’t all glamourous parties and wild nights out with celebrities. It was scheduling last minute flights and not sleeping for three days straight as you packed a million bags and then repacked because their stylist sent you knew pieces and the old ones no longer fit the aesthetic of the week. It was also making sure that they were up by six AM with a hot coffee at their bedside ready to help them wake up as you lay out a detailed plan of the day down to the minute, while you yourself basically only had a two-hour nap because you had to finish off 568 handwritten notes to be sent out to each of the contacts in their phone. Or at least that’s what Y/N’s life was like being the personal assistant to none other than the modern-day prince of rock Harry Styles. Said rockstar was actually still asleep when Y/N entered his room, ripping open the curtains and letting in the rising sun. He groaned, pulling up the bedsheets that’d ridden down his form during the night. “Not that I don’t like seeing your gorgeous face in the mornings….” he mumbled into the covers. “But I don’t like seeing your face in the mornings when they start at six bloody AM.” Y/N snorted and rolled her eyes, rubbing them in an attempt to get rid of the sleep that still lingered in her own body. “You were the one that said you’re fine with seeing Lambert at eight for a fitting.” “When did I say that?” Harry scoffed, only the top of his messy bedhead seen from the cocoon he’d built around himself. “Would you like me to pull up the text messages, the calendar or the e-mails?” Even with her back turned as she rummaged through his closet for him to put on some clothes, she could sense the middle finger he threw at her, and she smiled. Despite everything, despite the zero sleep and stress always coursing through her veins, Y/N loved working for him. He treated her as a friend, not just some lackey he paid to, but most importantly, comparatively to the other people she’d worked for in the same line of business – he treated her as a human. If something went over the deadline, Harry didn’t scream or yell at her and tell Y/N how incompetent she was, instead he asked what kind of help or assistance she needed to get the job done, or maybe if she just needed some time off to gather herself and look at the problem with fresh eyes. “I hate how organised you are,” Harry groaned, finally throwing the covers off. “If I wasn’t, you’d be in a ditch somewhere.” She heard him scoff and two feet plop against the hardwood floor as he made his way towards her. “Is that how little faith you have in me?” “You don’t even know what day it is!” “Who does in these times?” Y/N shrugged her shoulders and handed him a pair of boxers, some loose jeans, and a flowery Hawaiian shirt. “Are you telling me I’m wrong though?” She looked over to her side, a smirk playing on her lips while he squinted his green eyes at her. “No, but it doesn’t mean I like getting called out, especially this early in the morning.”

With a roll of her eyes and a shove at his shoulder for him to move to the bathroom, Y/N handed him the clothes, moving downstairs to start making him some light breakfast and get herself a cold glass of water. You see, she’d been working as his assistant for close to two years, and they’d grown not only as people around one another, challenging their beliefs and world views, but as friends too. And, well, Y/N would be lying if the emotions hadn’t evolved from platonic to falling in love. Not that she’d ever admit it. He was an international sensation, and she was the girl who got him vegetarian croissants at the airport. She dragged a hand down her face as she clicked the stove on and took out a carton of eggs from the fridge. Y/N knew how he liked his omelette to the T, mostly because when she’d spent the first night of quarantine with him a year prior right as the pandemic had started, Harry had wanted to do something nice because she couldn’t go and see her family any more, so he’d gotten up at seven to make breakfast for both of them. The only problem was, he hadn’t asked if she had any allergies, so as he added bits of tomatoes, parsley, cheese and scallions, Harry hadn’t expected Y/N’s eyes to go wide at the first bite as she dropped the fork. “Harry…” Her tone had been cautious. “What’s in this?” He was sweating. Was his cooking really that bad? He just wanted to do something nice and there he was screwing everything up. “ ‘S just some of my favourite things. I’m sorry I didn’t ask, I just thought you’d like it.” “I do, but this tastes like it has tomatoes in it.” He nodded. “Yeah. It does.” Gently she smiled at him and pushed the plate a bit further away. “Could you grab me a coat, and if you have any – an EpiPen?” “An Epi – oh shit!” When the realisation hit him, Harry was jumping out of his seat, running to one of the cupboards and rummaging through in a panic all the while apologies flew non-stop from his mouth. Y/N in the meantime had gathered her purse and mask, making a call to the nearest hospital to explain the situation to which they responded they’d be waiting for her arrival. “I’m so sorry!” Harry ran up to her, a first-aid kit in his shaking hands. “Please don’t die! I didn’t want to kill you, I promise! I just wanted to make you some breakfast cause you do so much for me, and now you’re stuck here, and – oh god,” he cried. “I’m going to be prosecuted for killing my assistant.” She didn’t mean to, but the snort came out of her nose either way. “Harry.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “Please calm down. I’m not going to die.” “You’re allergic!” “Yes, I am, but I only had a small bite. The ER is just a precaution.” Y/N took his palms in hers and squeezed them. “Now take a deep breath with me…” They did so, holding it for five seconds and letting it out for eight. “And calm down a bit. I’ll go give myself the shot, and then I’ll drive to the hospital.” “Let me,” Harry begged. “Please, let me at least drive you to the emergency room. God, I almost killed you with an omelette, it’s the least I can do. I – I could also help you with the shot, I won’t hit an artery, I promise -” “Harry, you’re barely coherent. Not to say anything, but you’d have a bigger chance of killing me in a car crash, than from that tomato.” Y/N gave him a smile. “I’m gonna be fine.” With that, she left him to venture into the bathroom and did the unpleasant part of stabbing herself in the thigh to alleviate her body from the allergy symptoms. She sat there for around five minutes before she felt that the swelling of her tongue and itching in her throat was starting to subside, which meant the epinephrine was working. “Okay,” she huffed, taking her purse from the couch where Harry had been sitting, hugging the accessory. “I’ll be back in probably around two hours. Do we need anything from the store?” He shook his head. “Just come back home, please.” Y/N would never admit how her heart thundered in her chest when Harry said to come back ‘home’. “I will.” She promised. “Don’t you worry. You’re not getting rid of me that easy, Styles. The money’s too good.” She winked at him and then left Harry pouting on the couch, but she couldn’t get through the door, before he jumped up, yelling, “wait! Do I need to get rid of every tomato in the house?” “No,” she laughed. “I’m good to be around them. Even touch them. ‘S just my insides that don’t agree with it when they meet.” “Okay.” He nodded, hands on his hips. “Alright. I’ll uh – I’ll be waiting. I’ll make you something else.” “There’s no need for that, Harry.” His eyes widened at her words. “I swear I’m not trying to murder you!” “Oh my god,” she muttered shaking her head. “Just – just relax. Okay. I’ll send you hourly updates.” He bit his lip. “Make it every ten minutes.” “Harry –,” “Please?” The way he was giving her puppy dog eyes melted her heart. With an eye-roll, Y/N waved at him and promised to update her boss at every possible moment and confirm that he hadn’t, in fact, been the reason for her demise. Well, he was the reason for the demise of her low standards in men, having taken them and thrown them up to the Moon, but unless her feelings were miraculously requited or if one of the Marvel characters, she was obsessed with came to life, she’d have to stick to what was available. And in her mind, that wasn’t Harry. “What are you thinking about?” His voice startled Y/N out of the memory, and she shook her head, adding salt and pepper to the beaten eggs. She shrugged. “Just about that time a year ago where you secretly tried to off me because you were too nice to say you didn’t wanna quarantine together.” The groan he let out was of royal embarrassment, and it put a wide smile on her face, as she took one of the forsaken fruits and started to chop the red ball into small pieces. “You’ll never let me live it down, are you?” Y/N raised her eyebrow at him. “Your failed murder attempt?” She snorted. “Of course not! It’s like you don’t watch the crime shows and murder documentaries when I have them on. You really haven’t learned anything.” Harry stuck his tongue out at her and moved to her side, dropping some chives into the mix as well. “Well given how it wasn’t a murder attempt, I wouldn’t consider it a fail.” Her hip bumped his, and only then did Y/N really give him a once-over. As always, he looked amazing in whatever was on his body, but what made him even cuter in her eyes was the sleepiness still lingering in him. Harry’s movements were a little bit sluggish, eyes half-closed and small sighs passing his lips as he sipped onto the coffee she’d come to his place with. The shirt sat loosely on his body, the first two buttons left open while he’d tucked the bottom of it into the jeans, having found a Gucci belt and cinched it around his waist, giving it a more eighties look rather than the sixties vibe he usually had with his suits. The brown hair was still messy and dishevelled, and Y/N could barely, just barely restrain herself from running her fingers through it, but what she didn’t know Harry was struggling just as much. All he wanted to do was pull out the bottom lip Y/N had gotten in between her teeth and kiss her senseless, to have her fingers dig into his arms and leave crescent shaped imprints on his skin. “So, uh…” He had to start a conversation otherwise his mouth would find itself on Y/N’s mouth in a second. “What’s Lambert got in his schedule? How many outfits is he thinking?” “Two or three, I think,” she said, pouring the mixture on the pan and letting the slow sizzle erupt around them. “He’s got this one suit which I think you’ll really like – all leather, but it needs to be altered.” Harry hummed, and for a second both of them relished in the domestic feel of it all. They’d had many moments like it before, especially during the spring and summer seasons of 2020, and Y/N couldn’t help but relish in her memories at them. “Harry?” It was like her voice snapped him out from a trance. “Could you pass me a plate please?’ “Uh, yeah,” he stammered for a moment and then nodded, wordlessly going to a cupboard and taking out a white marbled plate. That single piece of kitchenware probably cost more than her life insurance, but it was definitely aesthetic if nothing else. Silently Y/N plopped the omelette onto the plate, placing it on the kitchen counter and went to get him a fork, however when she turned around, he was facing her, chewing quite agressively on the inside of his cheek. “You okay?” she asked, coming closer. “I can call Lambert, reschedule it for later. He wouldn’t be too happy about having to wake up and then – “ But Harry shook his head. “It’s not that.” “Then what?” He didn’t say anything. It was like he was trying to decipher the best course of action, and when he ultimately did, Y/N was pressed up against the counter, Harry’s forehead against hers with two ring-clad hands cupping her cheeks. “Harry,” she breathed, out her lips brushing his making the air in her lungs hitch. “What are you doing?” “Something I’ve been dying to do for a year now. If you let me that is.” “I -,” The words were muddled up in her head. Of course, Y/N wanted him to kiss her, she wanted him to ravish every part of her body. The fantasies and dreams she’d had at night would be incriminating proof if her feelings were on trial, but despite it all, her brain was usually in charge and would overrule any decision made by her heart. “Harry, we can’t.” She whispered, voice breaking. “I -,” Horror morphed onto his features as he took a step back. “Did I misread the signals? Did I do something you don’t wan –“ “No.” She grabbed onto his cheeks, trying to calm him down, his body practically melting into hers. “I do.” She didn’t need to explain what she meant. He understood. “So much it hurts me sometimes… but Harry, you’re my boss. My employer. It… it wouldn’t be right.” “Why? How can it not be right, when it feels like the rightest thing in the world?” “Because, Harry,” she huffed. “You’re my boss. And what’s worse – I love working for you!” That made both of them laugh, the tone of her voice as if she was more annoyed than anything else. “ ‘Nd why’s that bad?” He nudged her nose with his. “I’d hope my employees like working with me. What kind of a person would I be if I thrived on them being miserable?” “Because if I didn’t, quitting would be easy.” She raised her eyebrow at him. “And if I quit there’d be nothing stopping us from dating.” Harry bit his lip, finger trailing along her cheekbone. “There’s nothing stopping us now either. There is no clause in your contract that says you can’t date people who you work for or with. Sarah’s with Mitch, and they’re the happiest they’ve ever been. They’re even having a baby…” Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile. “I know. But that’s different. They’re on equal levels. You and I, however… I don’t want people to think I got my job because I slept with you, or some shit. It’s bad enough some already do so.” His brows furrowed, and Y/N saw how his jaw clenched. “Who?” “Strangers.” She shrugged. “I know you don’t look at comments like that online, but I see them. My DMs are filled with that. Gossip magazines. The point is – there are already unsubstantiated rumours about us. This would give them the confirmation they’d need.” “How can it confirm something that’s not true?” “There are still people who believe vaccines cause autism. Even when their ‘proof’ has been discredited and shown to be just complete bullshit, most don’t like to admit they’re wrong, so they’ll look for whatever tells them they’re right.” Harry huffed throwing his head back to look at the ceiling. “So, where does that leave us? In love, but without being able to do anything about it? Because I can’t.” He shook his head. “I won’t be able to just pass you by without kissing you, or not pull you into the bed when you wake me up, or press you against the wall and not have my head between these two gorgeous legs.” Y/N groaned slapping his chest and dropping her forehead against his peck. “That is so unfair. Why do you have to tease me like that!” “Oh, sweetheart.” The rumble was deep and shot a wave of heat straight to her core. “This is no teasing.” The smirk on his face when she looked up at him was shit-eating. “Trust me, if I was teasing, you’d be begging for me.” She’d imagined him between her thighs more times than it was appropriate considering he was her boss, but hot damn, did it feel amazing when his lips crashed onto hers, and she let him. In her dreams, his lips hadn’t been just pressed to her mouth but other places which were more south, but it was still one of the best feelings in the world. The kiss left them both breathless, and grinning and satisfied, yet begging for more, teeth nipping at the soft flesh. “I’ll put out an official statement, if you want,” Harry muttered against her mouth, unable to stop pecking her lips now that’d he’d gotten a taste. “But please, please, please… for both our sanities go out on a date with me.” It seemed like Y/N was the one contemplating the best plan of action now when her brows furrowed and she looked up at him, pressing and unpressing her lips, as the swelling from the kiss grew. “Did you by any chance have a piece of that omelette already?” She had a suspicion it wasn’t just from the kiss. His eyes widened, and then his head dropped to her shoulder. “Not again!” Y/N rolled her eyes lifting his face by the chin so he would look at her. “How about EpiPen first?” “Fair enough,” Harry grumbled unlatching himself from her and going for his keys and wallet, already preparing for the short drive they’d have to take. “But then a date?” She raised her eyebrow, taking out the box Harry now kept under the sink with at least three EpiPen’s for emergencies. “In a hospital?” “We could be going dumpster diving for all I care, and I’d count it as a date.” Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’ll have to do so much better than that; you’ve almost put me in anaphylactic shock twice. Now come on.” She motioned with her head towards the bathroom. “Stab me and take me to the ER.” “Fucking tomatoes,” Harry grumbled, taking her by the hand and not letting it go even for the short walk. “Tomato-tomato, you’re the one that kissed me.” “That I don’t regret.” Y/N smiled, turning towards him, and taking him by the nape of his neck pulled Harry down for one more kiss, groaning at the feeling of his tongue dancing against hers. “Y/N!” He pulled back with a gasp, shock on his face. She just shrugged her shoulders. “We’re already going to see the doctors anyway.” Harry pushed her shoulder and made her sit down onto the toilet. “Take your pants off before my kisses kill you.” “Yes, daddy.” Y/N wiggled her eyebrows as Harry moaned, squeezing her calf. His eyes were dark as he looked up at her. “Next time this happens, you’ll be begging me.” Her wicked smile was so full of happiness he couldn’t help the one that grew on his face. “I’ll be keeping you to it. Now, dear sir.” She handed him the EpiPen. “Hit me with your best shot.” And although it’d been now two times in their lives where Harry trying to do something good and make the other feel just as good had done pretty much the opposite, when they got to the emergency room, their smiles could be felt even under their masks Harry watched with blushing cheeks as Y/N explained the situation to the nurse, especially when one of them threw him an unsavoury glance, eyebrow raised high as if saying ‘again? One time wasn’t enough?’. “No more tomatoes.” He promised. “And also - it wasn’t on purpose!” Y/N squeezed his palm, chuckling. She may not be able to give a shot at eating a tomato, but she sure as hell was going to give Harry one. After all, she had almost died for the man. Twice.

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take):

Harry Styles tags: @breezykpop @girlboss99 @harrystylesdoesntknowiexist @alliyjane @sirtommyholland @raylovessarcasm @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @harryhub

Everything tags: @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @crazy--me @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91 @dalilx @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @in-the-end-im-still-trash @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @teenwolflover28 @lestersglitterglue @im-squished

A/N: I’m at work and I wanted to write a bit for my book, but hahahahahahaha I can’t stop procrastinating. Also, this was something comepletely else centered around Christmas, then New Year and the Valentines, but I just couldn’t and it morphed into this. Maybe this Holiday season when it rolls around I’ll post it :D

P.S. if anyone’s had a septoplasty (repositioning of the septum) - how was it? how painful is it? kinda starting my journey towards it cause apparently I can’t breathe out of my left nostril, but I’m kinda scared ngl. I’ve read some horror stories about having holes and pieces of the cartilage fall out afterwards :///

P.S.S. what did ya think? my tags are always open, just drop a message if you wanna be added :)

P.S.S.S please don’t plagiarise or repost my work on other platforms (wattpad, AO3 etc)

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x reader smut #harry styles x assistant!reader #harry styles au #fanfic #fanfics #one direction #one direction imagine #1d fan fiction #1d

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jaedreaminn · 3 years ago

Text

Office Wars

Pairings: fem!reader x Jaemin

Theme: Fluff, Mild Jealousy, playful arguments, light crack, humour, protective.

Word count:2.2k

Gist: You were always at each others throats at work and everyone knew that and was used to that but maybe there was more than just the arguments on the surface.

"Ms. Y/l/n you're typing too loudly" Na Jaemin said with his infamous smirk plastered on his face.

A collective sigh was heard across the office. Your colleagues were all used to the usual banter that took place between you and Jaemin, easily being able to tune the noise that followed.

You however found it particularly difficult to avoid the banter when Jaemin picked at you for the most ridiculous of things.

"Oh I'm sorry Supervisor Na I didn't realise your hearing aid was on" You replied, the snark to your tone didn't go unnoticed as Jaemin scoffed but you couldn't be bothered to look away from your work.

"I don't need hearing aid to hear your keyboard being murdered, the poor thing has to recieve the brunt of your anger caused by Writer Kim"

You slammed your hands onto your table and angrily spun your swirling chair in the direction in which Na Jaemin sat.

Your anger doubled as you saw him proudly smirking from his position, knowing you just gave into his taunts but you couldn't care enough since he was the one that made the low blow.

"Don't you ever get tired idoling around and causing your co-workers headaches?" You said to the smug looking boy before getting on your feet and waking to the pantry.

Jaemin smiled as he watched you dissapeare behind the wall that separates the office and the pantry.

You made two cups of coffee, calming yourself before you walked out placing one on Jaemins table and carried the other to yours and got back to your work. At this point the office was slightly accustomed to your dynamics but it still baffled them. No one understood how the two of you worked, one minute you were at eachother throats the next second you were on the same team. And they didn't even try to understand, they just went along with it.

Like right now,

"You're going to be late for the briefing if you don't hurry your pretty little fingers up" you mocked, the cheeky grin plastered on your face clearly showed how amused you were by the fact that Na Jaemin had FORGOTTEN to prepare for today's briefing as your teams supervisors in this small publishing company.

The furiously typying man let go of his lip that was trapped between his teeth to grind them together, eyes wavering for a second to glare at you before focusing on his task at hand.

You cheerily walked away, a skip in your step as you reached the meeting room waiting for your supervisor and CEO to enter, happily chattering with your colleague Joy about the small queer owned business the two of you came across on instagram because of this month.

Soon the CEO stepped in and the room fell quite, Jaemin was still not on his seat but a minute later he walked in apologising for the delay.

A rather short and surprisingly sucessful briefing later you walked back to your desk to finish of what little work you had left before you streched, slightly pushing your chair away from your desk.

"Ready to go y/n?" Joy asked coming upto you and you grinned at her, nodding.

"Don't waste time then c'mon" you heard the annoying voice of Na Jaemin say from behind you and then saw the man in question walk past you. You glared holes into his back and Joy chuckled.

You and Joy continued to chater as you made your way to the restaurant your team always eats at, to find that your entire team was already sitting there.

"I ordered what you asked me to" Your colleague Suho said to Joy who thanked him.

You took your seat inbetween Crystal and Yangyang, which also happened to be directly opposite Jaemin.

"I ordered (insert dosh of your choice) for you" Jaemin told you and the two of your stared at eachother for a few seconds and then you smiled at him thanking him.

Everyone let out a breath they didn't know they were holding at that, expecting you to get mad at him for ordering for you without you asking him to.

The wait for the food to arrive was peaceful, except for the few snark remarks you and Jaemin exchanged but it wasn't something that people weren't used to.

Upon the arrival of your food your eyes lit up. Ever since you were a kid you loved to eat, in fact you were the biggest foodie in your family.

You excitedly picked up your chop sticks ready to dig in before a voice interrupted you.

"Your food isn't going anywhere slow down or you'll burn your tongue." Jaemin said nonchalantly and you ignored him poking out your tongue at him and immediately digging in for a big bite.

As soon as the food touched your tongue you're eyes widened at the sharp sensation caused by the heat immediately dropping the serving back onto your plate as you started to pant like a dog because of the heat.

Yangyang who was next to you noticed, placing a hand on your shoulder and picking up your glass of water with his other hand.

"Careful Y/n" he warend rather uselessly after the deed was done, bringing the cup of water to your lips so that you could wash down the heat with the cooling water.

You drank the water, hands reaching out the hold the cup on your own. Once the burning sensation cooled down, you turned to Yangyang offering him a smile while thanking him.

You're attention then turned to Jaemin who sat infront of you glaring at no one in particular, expecting him to be looking smug.

You shrugged at the change in attitude as you continued your mean, this time blowing on your food before you took a bite.

Not even fifteen minutes later you felt a kick on you shin and then looked up to see Jaemin leaving, you sighed rolled your eyes and finished the food on your plate as fast as you could before dashing out back to the office. No you didn't forget to pay, the meals were handeled by the company.

You reached the office only to find Jaemin sitting on his seat pouting angrily as he typed away. You chuckled, deciding to not indulge him as you walked back to your seat and got on with your work and ignored the way Jaemin looked at you even poutier than before.

Ignoring him was a bad choice since after that he got even more annoying, dropping more files on your desk for you to deal with, making random comments about your corrections, complaining about anything and everything and you just ignored the fussy manchild with an eye roll.

"Y/n we have to go for the mandatory company diner now." Joy said to you and you looked out the window at the end of the office to see the sky becoming a dark orange hue, it was late evening.

"I still have so much to do" you whined, letting your head fall onto your desk with a thud and Joy winced, not knowing what to say.

"Stop whining y/n and just come back and get it done. I have work to do to so I can walk with you back to the office after dinner." Jaemin said walking upto your desk.

You lifted your head sligtly to look at the tall male who was looking at you, waiting for a reply to his question and you sighed head falling between your arms again.

"We have to leave now we don't have forever y/n make a choice" Jaemin said impatiently tapping his foot on the floor.

"Okay let's go!" You said suddenly jumping up and marching towards the exit. Jaemin chuckled and Joy looked at you as if you had grown two heads but then the two of them immediately followed behind you.

The company diner was uneventful. Mr. Choi on of your clients was making what he though to be flirtatious eyes at you again but you only saw it as creepy. But you were still able to enjoy you meal, sitting between Jaemin and Joy, happily chattering away.

After everyone was done eating you knew you couldn't stay to chat and you lifted you phone off the table checking the time and signalling Jaemin who nodded and the two of you bid your goodbyes.

"I can walk you if you want y/n-shi" a rosy cheek and very drunk Mr.Choi said and you gagged.

"It's Ms.y/l/n to you Mr.Choi and there's no need I'm walking her there, making sure our employee feels safe by making sure you're not around them." Jaemin said, eyes glaring daggers and the now offended drunk man.

"You" Mr.Choi yelled pointing his finger and an unimpressed Jaemin "How dare you talk to me like that! Don't you know how important I am to this company" the angry drunk man yelled.

"Mr Choil please stay professional because it isn't that hard to find good writers, especially on to replace you." Your CEO spoke up and you had to hold back a chuckle at Mr.Chois flustered face as his mouth opened and closed not able to form any words.

"If that all we'll be taking out leave." Jaemin said grabbing onto you hand and bowing at your CEO who nodded and quickly dragged you away. You quickly bowed in respects to you CEO too before you were dragged away by Jaemin.

"I felt like punching him" Jaemin said on your walk to the office, hand still holding yours.

"Me too" you chuckled at the fuming male as you walked the rest of the way in silence, hand in hand.

You immediately rushed to you desk upon reaching your office and started typing away and Jaemin lazily strolled to his seat, doing whatever he had to do.

Half an hour later and all you had to do was send out two mails and save the document you were working on, so you let yourself relax alittle slumping back onto your chair. You peaked at what jaemin was doing and smiled. "That's a good score, must have been alot of WORK" you teased and Jaemin looked embarrassed at getting caught.

"I-i was bored okay" he said avoiding your gaze and you smiled.

"Okay"

You crossed one leg over the other, leaning over your desk to send the last two e-mails and save the document you were busy correcting.

Just as you finished with your work and sat up straight Jaemin spoke "You know when a person sits with crossed legs and their legs are pointing towards you that means they like you" he said pointing at your position and you looked down to see your leg was indeed pointing at him.

"That means you like me y/n." Jaemin said cheekily wiggling his eyebrows.

And you looked at him eyes screwed as if you were judging his entire existence, which you were "Jaemin" he hummed in reply still grining, "We're engaged it would be really weird if I didn't like you" You said and Jaemins grin grew even wider and you sighed chuckling at your happy fiance.

"Yea it would be weird" he said sliding his chair towards you, crashing into you slightly and you steadied him.

"Ahh your so cute my y/n" he said pulling you into his arms and plukering his his lips trying to kiss you but you leaned away from him just to annoy him.

"Don't avoid my kisses" he huffed pouting as he tried again but you teased him again avoiding him.

"Yah! You brat give me a kiss!" he yelled and you chuckled turning you head to give him a small peck on his nose but he had other plans immediately moving his face and his lips met yours in a sweet kiss in which you felt yourself melting into. Kissing Jaemin was always calming and he always tasted sweet even thought he drank that disgustingly bitter coffee.

You slowly felt his hands snake behind your head pulling you closer lips moving in sync as he deepend the kiss, your breaths mingled as both of you felt lightweight. You got lost in eachother for a second before you slowly pulled away resting your forehead against his. He smiled at you eyes sparkling in the dim lit room.

"If someone walked in on us right now they'd have a heart attack" Jaemin joked and you chuckled. It was an unspoken rule between the two of you to keep your relationship a secret in the office and you did that by bickering. "We should tell them now though shouldn't we?" You asked and Jaemin pecked you cheek sitting up staright, "Yea and hand them the wedding invites" and you grinned, heat rushing to your cheeks, you never got used to the fact that you were to get married to Na Jaemin, your soulmate.

Needless to say when the two of you told everyone at the office the next day you were pretty sure some of them were this close to having a heart attack. But most of them Congratulated you as you stood hand in hand with Jaemin, grinning like an idiot.

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cheri-translates · 3 years ago

Text

[CN] Winning the Championship Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 夺冠之��, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

[ Released on 28 September 2021 ]

The vibrations of my phone rouse me from the tediously long document. After looking at the caller, I answer it hurriedly.

MC: Gavin? Has your mission ended?

Gavin (on the phone): Soon. I’ll be back before the weekend. I should be able to make it in time for that café event you mentioned.

I suddenly recall how I had mentioned this event to Gavin before he left for the mission last month, but...

MC: Sob sob. I can’t go this weekend. I’m producing a new show, so I’ve been busier lately.

Gavin (on the phone): Is it a difficult show?

MC: A little bit... Come to think of it, Gavin, what type of sports shows appeal to you?

Gavin (on the phone): ...appeal to me? Competitive sports with commentators.

Just as I’m hesitating on whether to tell him about the problems I’m facing, someone on the other end of the line seems to be calling for him.

MC: Go and do your thing. I’m not facing any issues.

Gavin (on the phone): Okay. Contact me anytime if needed.

Right after hanging up, Minor knocks on the door and comes in.

Minor: Boss, I’ve made the arrangements for the collaborative filming of “Life’s Limits” with the City Sports and Culture Bureau. As per your request, I’ve selected a group of amateur racing hobbyists. The name list and materials have been sent to your e-mail.

MC: You’ve worked hard.

Minor: Boss, why don’t you take a break? Your dark circles have appeared.

MC: The company competing with us for this project is Light Media, and it’s much more experienced in producing sports shows as compared to us. We can’t let our guard down.

After more than half a month of research, I locked in my decision regarding the filming site - Hurricane Club.

This club is very well-known amongst motorcycle enthusiasts, and often organises competitions for amateurs.

This weekend, the club will be conducting a three-day training, and participants will be guided by professional coaches. There will even be a friendly race at the end.

The competition has a very novel format - it’s a three-person relay.

I intend to search for three photogenic motorists to form a small team. By following their daily experiences throughout the entire process, including their training sessions and the race, I’d produce a story about the team.

Minor: Boss, according to your request, isn’t the best choice Bro Gavin?

MC: That’s true...

During the initial planning stage, the first person I thought of was actually Gavin.

However, he doesn’t like appearing on shows, and was only willing to appear in previous shows because of me.

Moreover, he’s been away for a mission which lasted close to a month, and should get a proper rest over the weekend.

MC: In short, he... doesn’t quite fit the standard. You can leave work for now.

After sending Minor away, I re-focus on the thick stack of materials in front of me.

Before the peak hour on Friday, I head towards Hurricane Club in a rental car. While doing pre-filming checks, I answer the phone.

Minor: Boss, the three people we agreed on have set out. I’ve also found a suitable substitute. After careful selection, he’s definitely a top quality choice. I can guarantee that nothing will go wrong! You’ll get to see him once you reach the club! Boss, thanks for your hard work!

Before I have a chance to probe further, the dial tone sounds in the next second.

MC: This fellow is once again acting first before reporting afterwards... there shouldn’t be a problem, right?

Upon reaching the club, I meet up with the three team members we had contacted earlier.

Based on background research conducted by the company, they are generally outstanding, and are very enthusiastic when it comes to racing.

One of them is a young participant called Kelly, who obtained an amateur championship title in the past.

I quickly introduce the details of the shoot to them.

MC: Bro Liu, Xiao Yu, Kelly, thank you all for participating in this shoot. Afterwards, the club will be allocating you to your coaches for guidance. Even though this team was put together at short notice, I hope everyone can have faith in each other, and motivate each other. We also prepared a substitute team member...

??: Sorry I’m late.

A familiar voice drifts from behind me, and I immediately turn around.

Sunlight falls on every step Gavin takes towards me. The pair of eyes looking at me are bright and clear.

Gavin: I’m the substitute team member, Gavin. I’ve kept you waiting, Producer.

After the club assigns the coaches and enters the test run phase, I finally digest the “unexpected surprise” of Gavin’s sudden appearance.

I initially think of finding a chance to talk to him privately, but the coaches who arrive one after another leave me with no choice but to retract the gaze which keeps straying towards that figure.

I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on my current task. By the time all the filming angles are checked, most of the morning has already gone by.

Scanning my surroundings, I don’t see Gavin anywhere.

MC: ...where is he?

Walking along the racetrack and towards the vending machine, I decide to get a bottle of coffee to fill myself up before looking for Gavin.

Perhaps because I didn’t have breakfast, I suddenly feel dizzy after taking a few sips.

By the time I regain my senses, I’m carried over to a long bench by a familiar force. Meeting Gavin’s evidently frantic gaze, I quickly tug the corners of my lips upwards into a smile.

MC: Gavin, I was just about to look for you. Turns out you were here.

He doesn’t speak. Lifting his hand, he wipes away the thin sheen of sweat on my forehead lightly. Then, a breeze envelops me gently, warm and comforting.

He takes the coffee in my hand smoothly, then retrieves soya milk and a sandwich from the bag in his hand.

Gavin: Eat your breakfast.

MC: ...okay, I’ll listen to Sir Gavin.

I munch on the sandwich obediently, occasionally blinking at Gavin to convey a message which says, “I feel much better, so there’s no need to worry”.

Gavin’s slightly furrowed brows finally arch subconsciously.

Gavin: I heard from Minor that you’ve been working overnight to prepare for this show.

MC: Haha, don’t listen to his nonsense. It isn’t that exaggerated...

Gavin: I also heard that I didn’t fit the standard. What standard did you set?

MC: ...

I clench my fists in secret, condemning Minor from the bottom of my heart for his “heinous act” of betraying me.

MC: I can explain! You don’t like appearing on camera, and your identity in STF is a pretty sensitive topic...

Gavin: Mm, you’re right.

Gavin deliberately elongates his words, as though he doesn’t plan to let the matter go just like this.

Gavin: So what’s your standard?

MC: ...we hope for the motorists to have a certain level of professional competence, to be sufficiently photogenic, and most importantly, to have an enthusiastic heart. But I really didn’t mean to say that you didn’t fit this standard!

Gavin is finally unable to suppress the upward turn of his lips.

Gavin: Once you’re done today, sleep early tonight.

The training proceeds methodically, and filming goes very smoothly.

The roar of motors drift from the club’s racetrack, and motorcycles of every hue speed freely along the racetrack.

In the camera lens, two blue and white motorcycles seem to be speeding at the same pace, as though they’d break through the finish line at the same time.

Kelly: Have you ever participated in professional racing?

Gavin: Nope.

Kelly: The way you cornered the motorcycle a few times - you can’t do that with ease without a few years of experience. How did you do it?

Gavin: I just drive often.

Kelly: Let’s find a chance to ride together some time.

Kelly pats him on the shoulder before continuing the training. Gavin walks over to me, twisting open a bottle of water before taking a sip.

Gavin: Is filming going well?

MC: There’s too much footage from the training sessions. I might consider adding a special segment for interviews.

While speaking, I’m struck with an idea.

MC: Mr Gavin, why don’t you have a pre-interview with me to test out the effects?

I lift a bottle of water towards Gavin.

MC: What made you like motorcycles?

Gavin: I don’t have a precise answer. By the time I realised it, I already liked them.

MC: In that case, are there any motorcycle-related experiences which left a deep impression on you?

Gavin is silent for a moment. He seems to think of something, then chuckles softly.

Gavin: The time it overturned.

MC: Overturned? When did that happen? You can tell me in secret - this will definitely not be disclosed to the public.

Gavin looks at me, and he speaks in a volume only the both of us can hear -

Gavin: [whispers] The time when I rode on a snowmobile with the girl I like.

The snow field in my memories is cold, but the breath at my ear causes the temperature of my ear to rise.

[Note] This is a reference to Snow Mountain Date

MC: [blushing] Cough, that was...

All of a sudden, a clamour from the racetrack interrupts my words. The both of us stand up, only to discover that a motorcycle has overturned on the track.

Many people are standing at the side, and some call out for the medical staff.

Gavin: That seems to be Old Liu. Let’s go over to have a look.

Doctor: There are soft tissue injuries to your wrist and leg. Recuperate properly over this duration, and don’t engage in any intense activities.

Bro Liu: What about the competition tomorrow...

MC: Bro Liu, just recuperate. The doctor said that once your injuries are healed, you can still ride motorcycles in the future.

Bro Liu glances at Gavin.

Bro Liu: I guess I must admit that I’m getting old. It’s time to hand the baton to the young.

After contacting Minor and telling him about what happened, Gavin and I leave the hospital.

MC: Bro Liu worked so hard over the past two days. He must have really wanted to participate in tomorrow’s competition...

Gavin: In that case, we’ll work hard together with his effort. This is when the substitute steps in.

It’s the night before the competition, and I’m looking through the contents of the edited shoot over the past two days in my room.

After cutting the cornering training, I modify it into a slow-motion feature, then insert a few casual interactions between the team members as embellishments.

But no matter how I edit it, the clip is unable to convey the feelings I hoped it would.

I grab my hair in frustration, unwilling to accept my defeat. I locate the original video, watching it from the start.

The sound of the doorbell interrupts my slightly muddy train of thoughts. Opening the door, I see Gavin standing outside.

Gavin: I saw that the lights were still on in your room, so I came over to take a look. Why aren’t you sleeping?

MC: Gavin...

Hearing the gloominess in my tone, he takes my hand and pulls me over to sit down on the sofa.

Gavin: Filming didn’t go well?

Placing the notebook laptop between us, I play the recording.

MC: For this shoot, I wanted to edit it into a small unscripted story to showcase the competitiveness and fun of being a racer. As of now, the story aspect is going smoothly, and the interactions between people are interesting too. But I think it’s missing something which can grab one’s attention immediately...

Gavin looks at the screen and ponders for a moment. Then, he suddenly asks me a question.

Gavin: Want to go for a stroll? It’s too stuffy in the room. Getting some fresh air might give you new inspiration.

Likely to conserve energy for the competition tomorrow, everyone has returned to rest very early, and the racetrack is completely empty.

Gavin leaps onto the bleachers, then reaches out to me.

Gavin: Let’s go for a spin.

He takes my hand, guiding me onto the vehicle. Then, he puts on a helmet for me, teaching me how to grab the throttle and brakes.

MC: Gavin, are you sure this is okay?

Gavin: You can’t go onto the road, but we’re still within the venue. After filming for days, don’t you want to experience it yourself?

MC: I want to!

Gavin sits behind me, two arms securing me steadily in his arms.

Along with the familiar sound of the engine, the motorcycle moves. The speed is incredibly steady, and is just right for enjoying the pleasant evening breeze.

MC: Gavin, can we go a little faster?

Gavin: We can. Sit tight.

A loud roar drifts to my ears, and the motorcycle flies forward like an arrow leaving a bow.

Very soon, the most difficult part of the racetrack appears, comprising of consecutive bends. During the training sessions, many motorists faced many trials at this area.

Gavin grips my hand, loosening the throttle, causing the the motorcycle to slow down.

MC: There’s no need to step on the brakes?

Gavin: No need. Engine braking is enough to reduce the speed.

While speaking, the motorcycle tilts at an unbelievable angle at a turn. Gavin controls the direction with composure, air currents at the side keeping the motorcycle steady.

The motorcycle dangerously yet steadily completes the curved track, returning onto a straight track and picking up speed once again.

Gavin: MC, can you see where the cameras are? That’s the goal. On the racetrack, that’s the only thing in a racer’s eyes.

The sound of wind at my ears seems to quieten down. The moment we charge past the finishing line, I suddenly have a feeling that a full stop has been drawn on the racetrack.

Even after the motorcycle makes its gradual halt, I’m unable to return to my senses.

Seeming to understand my silence, Gavin doesn’t speak. He simply pushes the motorcycle that I'm on patiently, walking slowly.

MC: Gavin, I know what this story is missing. Stirring the emotions of viewers requires the most important thing which can make them seethe with excitement -

Gavin: Winning the championship.

MC: That’s right. All the effort from before is meant for the final sprint towards the goal. Winning the championship is the core of a competitive spirit, and is also what the show’s theme of “limit” is seeking after. But... Gavin, do you think we have a chance at winning the championship tomorrow?

Gavin: Yes. But while we’re improving, others are improving as well. Everyone on the racetrack will be aiming towards victory. The people you selected are very outstanding. Believe in them, and believe in yourself.

MC: Mm, everyone has already worked very hard. When it comes to winning, it’s good enough if they try their best.

Gavin parks the motorcycle properly, then carries me down from it.

Gavin: Go back and have a good sleep. You don’t have to worry too much about the competition tomorrow.

It’s finally time for the competition. Seeing the filled audience seats, I feel incredibly nervous.

Kelly: I didn't expect to see so many people.

MC: It’s a Sunday, and the club decided to open the venue to the public as publicity.

I take a deep breath to calm my emotions.

MC: Let’s enjoy the fun of racing to our heart’s content! Shall we do a pre-competition ceremony?

While speaking, I stretch out my hand. Gavin cooperates, placing his palm over the back of my hand. He gives it a gentle pinch, and it feels as though an endless stream of strength is being transmitted.

It’s a sense of security belonging only to Gavin.

MC: Safety first, the competition second. Everyone, all the best!

All the motorists have taken their places at the starting line. Based on prior suggestions by the club, I’ve arranged Kelly to take on the first battle, and Gavin will be the finale.

With the green light signalling the start of the competition, twenty motorcycles which have been waiting for action seem to sprint forward at the same time.

The sound of motor engines causes everyone’s adrenaline to spike, and the crowd becomes immersed in the competition.

I’m positioned closest to the audience seats. This is the first time I’m viewing a competition from such a close distance. Even though it’s an amateur competition, it’s sufficiently astounding.

Xiao Yu makes a few minor mistakes at the bends, causing the team to lag behind temporarily.

Carefully observing the changes on the racetrack, I don’t feel overly anxious.

Because it’d be Gavin’s turn next. With him around, I always feel exceptionally at ease.

I look at Gavin as he waits at the handover area with a helmet over his head. He seems to sense my gaze, and turns around to see my thumbs up.

In the next second, his motorcycle charges into the racetrack.

The blue and white motorcycle courses past the bends nimbly in almost “L” shape movements.

As compared to my experience last night, I can see Gavin’s cornering techniques even more clearly from the audience seats.

Although the camera is unable to capture his expression, it isn’t difficult to imagine his focused and bright eyes from underneath the helmet.

When the competition enters its final round, Gavin has already reached the second place, and there’s hardly any difference between him and the first competitor.

The audience’s emotions are stirred by this intense competition, and the sound of cheers surge forward like a tide.

I find myself being influenced as well, staring fixedly at that sprinting figure.

After the upcoming bend, the goal will not be far.

Unexpectedly, a motorcycle behind suddenly accelerates towards the bend, using its full strength to make a last effort.

However, the motorcycle tilts too much. It’s clear that the centre of gravity was not controlled properly, sending the motorist collapsing onto the track.

At this point, Gavin’s motorcycle is already over half of the bend. He controls the dip of the motorcycle, barely avoiding the fallen vehicle.

Because of this incident, some distance is pulled between himself and the motorist in first place.

On the straight road, Gavin’s motorcycle suddenly accelerates, keeping pace with the motorist in front.

In this moment, time seems to slow down. I hold my breath, feeling as though my spirit has become one with that sprinting figure.

The rustling of leaves, the flapping wings of birds, the yelling of the audience, the checkered flag waving mid-air... all of them gather into one voice-

Announcer: The first place goes to No. 07!

On the big screen, Gavin’s name is listed impressively at the top.

At the final moment, he attained first place with a 0.06 second difference, winning the championship.

Gavin did it!

The motorcycle comes to a gradual halt. Gavin removes his helmet, droplets of sweat reflecting bright rays of light beneath the sunlight.

The smile on his face is sparkling and dazzling, bringing with it the confidence belonging to a victor.

Such a result is both unexpected yet within my expectations.

Gavin turns around, looking squarely in my direction.

He shakes his head casually, which has gotten messy from his helmet, and says two words.

Gavin: We won.

The employees push the motorcycles back to the venue. Gavin heads over to the referee’s seat, lowers his head and says a few things before walking to me.

The gold medal in his hand dangles slightly, reflecting a dazzling light.

Cheers from the surroundings grow brighter as he draws closer. Separated by the bleachers, he stretches out his hand towards me -

He leans over the bleachers slightly. As he draws closer, I can detect the scent belonging only to Gavin.

Gavin hangs the medal around my neck, announcing our victory.

Gavin: The champion title - we’ve got it.

My mouth opens, but I have no idea what to say. My body reacts faster than my brain. I stretch out both arms, hugging him with all the strength in my body.

Scorching warmth and the dampness of sweat from the competition linger on him.

Gavin returns the embrace. It’s as though this hug is enough for us to understand each other’s sentiments.

Gavin: I think I heard you cheering me on.

MC: I did it so softly, but you could hear it?

Gavin: Mm, the wind told me. Everything you say - I can hear them.

MC: There’s still one thing the wind hasn’t had the time to tell you. I’ll say it myself right now.

Turning my face to the side, I bring it close to his ear.

MC: Gavin, you’ll always be the only champion in my heart.

🏍 Call and Moments: here

🏍 Art based on this date: here

🏍 Support the café by dropping by the tip jar!

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc gavin #CUTE CUTE

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sweetwolfcupcake · 3 years ago

Text

Allurement: The Vexation of A Lover

Yandere Namjoon x Reader

To say that Namjoon was vexed would be an understatement. He had barely slept through the night, he had been haunted with nightmares regarding his mother and the worst of all, losing his (Y/N). He cursed himself repeatedly for not having caught her when she ran away from him. But he was in such a euphoric daze, her words barely registered in his mind.

"I'm sorry"

He could not forget those words. What did she mean by 'sorry'? Why would she say that! And while he paced back and forth in his office like a madman, waiting for her to arrive, all he could think of were the ways to confront her. But she was nowhere in sight, she was never late. He was about to reach out for his phone to check her location, again. But before he could, there was a knock at his office door. With a tense sigh, Namjoon allowed the person to enter. It was Park Jimin, the deputy security head of the security and safety company responsible for the Kims' safety. And the company's safety of course. There was a reason why he had assigned Park Jimin for his darling after all. Besides, he could get daily updates regarding her, that too of a man of such reach and capability as Park Jimin

" Good Morning Mr Kim. I have Miss (Y/N)'s message for you, she would not be able to attend work today, there is an emergency."

"An emergency? What emergency?"

"She said that she is in the hospital. And that she cannot come to work today or tomorrow. She sounded tense."

Namjoon frowned as he felt his stomach clenching. He had checked her location before, it did show her location to be at the hospital most of the night. He had tried calling her but she had not picked up her phone.

"Come, we will go to the hospital." he hastily took his coat and collected his phone while switching off the devices

"But, how are we supposed to know where she is? I had asked her but she was in a hurry."

"I know which hospital, do not worry about that, let's go."

And with that, the two men were already marching towards the elevator.

------

Namjoon had been in the hospital only once when he had made an appearance in front of (Y/N)'s mother. He found her with ease, it was the same floor he had seen her with her mother before. Only, this time, she was seated at the waiting area.

"(Y/N)!" he called her name as soon as he spotted her while his legs began to march towards her slumped form. Her eyes widened at the sight of his. But he was barely bothered at the moment "Are you alright? What happened? You did not come to work and...and now you are in the hospital."

"I-I am alright Sir, I did send Mr Park with the message, and I will have the dress and the accessories sent back as soon as I am free." her voice was slightly scratchy, and her eyes seemed tired with the lack of sleep. But her words made him frown

"Why would you return them, they are yours."

"I'm afraid I cannot accept them, Sir. I will see you in a few days, I will have the leave application sent—"

"Why, what happened? You never told me."

She sighed before looking away, her body language screamed for rest, but she seemed far more agitated than ever "My mother's health suddenly worsened, I will be taking care of her." Namjoon's lips parted to speak, but before he could, another voice interrupted them.

"(Y/N)!" it was the doctor whom he had remembered. The one who appeared to be a little too friendly with her "(Y/N), your mother's report is ready," with her head turned towards the man, she nodded mutely before excusing herself away.

Leaving him with scattered thoughts once more.

--------

The hospital was a public place, and many were bound to recognise him, even with the facemask he had. So he chose to send Jimin away and drive himself to her apartment and wait outside.

She arrived rather late, walking. And Namjoon cursed himself immediately for sending Jimin away, he was too desperate to have her alone, to confront her, it had completely slipped his mind that she would be having to use public transport to get back home.

She let out a startled gasp as soon when he swung-opened the car door when she was about to pass by the vehicle "Sir?" she sounded surprised.

"It's late, I have been waiting. Is...Is everything alright?" his concern grew as he observed her. Slumped shoulders, tired, red eyes, chapped lips, even her hair had not been combed properly. His hand instantly reached out to run through her hair but she moved away "(Y/N), Darling?"

"Don't." her voice was low, but there was hiss to it as if she had been offended "I will be sending you my leave application through E-mail. It's getting late, you should not be out here so late. You should go home."

"I was waiting for you, why won't you look at me?" from within, Namjoon grew steadily anxious, but he kept a calm and gentle exterior, even though all he wished to do was to grab her and pull her close to him. And all she had been doing was to avoid making an eye-contact as much as possible, even at the hospital she had been like that. "What is wrong Jagi?"

"I am not...Don't call me that." Namjoon frowned at her words, he remembered her kissing him back but now...

"What do you mean by that Jagi, we kissed last night." his voice turned slightly strained, he watched her stiffening.

"Forget it...Please." it was a lowly whisper.

But the words were enough to drive him mad.

****

Taglist(Kindly remind me later if I missed anyone)- @whatpageisthis @amoc94 @theresa-nam-nam-me @dearbambideer @casualminiaturetimemachine @njrwifey @kpopisnicee @illnevertrustmyselfagain @potterbrooke @luvaffaire @bighitfics @mochimochipie @vixenwerr @minshookie29 @sepulcry @omgsuperstarg @rkive-diary @Iyoongx

#yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere namjoon #yandere namjoon x reader #yandere rm #yandere rm x reader #yandere ceo namjoon #yandere ceo namjoon x reader #yandere dom namjoon #yandere dom namjoon x innocent reader

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smoochkooks · 4 years ago

Text

—chapter one: the beginning of an end

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, future smut

word count: 1.4k words

summary: loving jeon jungkook is, above all, the beginning of an end.

previous || next

You’re positive your favourite sound in the whole world is the rhythmic, repetitive sound of your fingers tapping on the keyboard.

Everyone has a different approach when it comes to coping with stress and anxiety. Some people drink away their unwanted emotions, some drown themselves in work, some watch yet another, mediocre Netflix show. But your solution, your little panacea has always been writing.

You’re not the best when it comes to expressing your true feelings. You can struggle with saying ‘I love you’ to your mother and then write a long, affectionate letter for her birthday that makes her eyes turn glossy. You may stutter and tumble on your own words while trying to order coffee and then complete academic essays with ease.

Whenever you feel like you’re overwhelmed, boiled up with mixed emotions, you do exactly what your school counselor told you many years ago: you let it out. She never mentioned any specifics, simply encouraging you to find your own way. And that’s exactly what you did – you picked it up yourself. First, it was writing a diary. No less than two weeks into it, you got bored. Turns out describing in detail every single mundane day of your life was never your forté. You threw away your old notebook, bought a new one and decided to write there whenever you felt like you really wanted to, not out of obligation.

And you continue to do so, these days you opt for a use of modern technology often. You open your laptop and pour your feelings onto a digital sheet of paper. It’s cathartic, in a way. Getting rid of what you feel like is weighing you down.

Jungkook however, your dearest best friend, has always been on the other side of the spectrum. Loud, obnoxious, a life and soul of the party who happened to miraculously befriend the most quiet introvert in class. Sometimes you still wonder how your friendship has managed to survive almost twenty years. You’re two polar opposites. Fire and water. Storm and chilly breeze. A confession screamed in the middle of the night and handwritten love letter.

You’re a dichotomy. Made of the same atoms, pulling in and pulling away. And if the phrase ‘opposites attract’ held any significance, maybe you would’ve ended up together. But in your case, it’s yet another platitude. Something that seems to work out only in books and movies. Because, if that was true, he would never fell in love with a female version of him, just graced with a sprinkle of pure sweetenes Jungkook sometimes lacks.

Soojin is everything you will never be. Polite, outgoing, sociable and so likeable you hate yourself for despising her. Truthfully, there’s nothing bad you could say about her. No wonder he’s fallen head over heels for her, not you.

What’s there to love about you, if you willing chose to pin for a boy that’s so out of your league? It’s actually hilarious to even dream about him returning your feelings.

You stare at the screen with half-lidded eyes. The clock reads quarter past midnight, letters start to blur into nothingness. Yet another chapter of your miserable life is completed as you save the document and slam your laptop shut. You don’t bother to shower or take off your clothes. Sleepiness hits you right when you close your eyes.

You dream of wedding halls and never spoken love confessions.

You read once on Twitter that being an adult means checking your e-mail as a part of your morning social media routine and since then, you haven’t quite related to anything more in your life.

At the very top of your inbox there’s yet another e-mail from your Creative Writing proffesor, Kim Namjoon. He’s a very stubborn man, you decide, as you scroll through the contents of his message. He still wants you to consider what he told you a few days ago after class, it seems.

“Miss ___? Can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure.” you replied and awkwardly walked up to his podium.

You might have been madly (and miserablely) in love with your best friend, but Kim Namjoon has never failed to make you feel like a silly teenager with a crush on her older teacher. To say Kim Namjoon was intimidating was an misunderstanding. His presence was thoroughly electrifying. You remembered a very disappointed sigh the girl sitting next you let out when she noticed a ring on his right hand. You couldn’t judge her. His wife had scored probably the finest man on this damn planet.

“I read your latest assignment and I must say, your novelette was outstanding as always. Dare I say the best among others,” Namjoon said. You bowed your head in acknowledgement, praying he wouldn’t notice your rose-colored cheeks. “Regarding that, I actually have a proposition for you.”

At that, your eyes widened. “What kind of proposition, sir?” you asked.

He picked up a sheet of paper from his desk and handed it to you. It was a flyer, you realised, and read it through quickly. VARIETÉ Publishing was organising an annual contest for young poets, which you had heard about before. Your English Literature proffesor mentioned it during her lecture a week ago. However, poetry had never been your strong suit. As much as you enjoyed reading it, you weren’t really fond of creating your own poems. So why did Kim Namjoon decide to tell you about this all of a sudden?

“I know what you might be thinking right now, but I’m not actually encouraging you to take part in this competition,” As he smiled, two dimples appeared on each side of his mouth. “Do you know anything about VARIETÉ Publishing?”

Slightly confused, you gave him a nod. “It’s one if the biggest publishing companies in the country.”

“That’s very much true,” Namjoon agreed. “VARIETÉ's vice-chairman, Lee Jongi, is actually my old friend. We used to study together here, at this university. When I chose a teaching career, he got a job in a foreign publishing company, climbed up the ladder until the very top and now he’s vice-chairman and I’m a simple college professor,” He chuckled. You were too stunned to form a coherent response let alone laugh along with him. Lee Jongi and Kim Namjoon being buddies? It was a small world, after all. “Jongi has always been very fond of young, aspiring writers. When I discover a student with huge potential, I send him their works. If he finds them interesting enough, he might even take a risk and propose a publishing deal. This doesn’t happen quite often, but I want you to know that you have a pretty big chance to impress him.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed because holy fucking shit, did he just say he can help you publish your first book?

“I don’t know what to say, sir. I’m shocked.” you responded truthfully. You had heard people complimenting your skills before but this was extraordinary. “Let me just process all of this: you know personally VARIETÉ'S vice-chairman and you want to show him my works?” Even said out loud, it still sounded surreal to you.

“Correct. But of course, I won’t do anything without your consent.” Namjoon said. “That novelette you sent me recently was amazing. I’d love to show it to Lee Jongi one day.”

The task was to incorporate a hidden, symbolic message into a story. You decided to use your favorite flowers, magnolias, and its meaning. They represent eternity, because once they bloom they will continue to bloom for a long time. In your story, a girl gave her best friend magnolia's seeds, wishing her love for him to be everlasting. A day later, she received a pack of seeds from the boy as well. She happily planted them in her garden and when they bloomed, she discovered they were yellow tulips. A symbol of love that will never be reciprocated.

“You make people feel things with your words, ___, and that’s a very rare gift,” You heard Namjoon add. “Promise me you’ll consider my proposition.”

There was thousand thoughts per hour running in your head, but you gave him a curt nod. “I’ll think about it.”

As you’re staring now at the screen, fingers hovering over the keyboard, you think about the girl whose only dream was to be loved by her best friend. Maybe it’s finally time for you to move on. Bury the past and plant a seed of new life. Because, loving Jeon Jungkook is, above all, the beginning of an end.

With shaky hands, you start writing a response to your proffesor.

#jungkook smut #btswritingcafe #ksmutclub #bangtanarmynet #bangtanhq #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook fanfic #an ode to a broken heart

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coffee-and-connections-zine · 3 years ago

Photo

THANK YOU for the amazing start of this project! Your feedback was amazing and we are so happy you guys are as excited as we are! There have been quite a few questions so make sure to check out our FAQ!

FAQ

💙 What’s a Zine?

It's a short for the word "fanzine" (fan+magazine), which is an unofficial non-profit publication made by fans - for fans.

💙 Relevant information about the “Coffee and Connections” Zine?

Size: A5

Page count: (yet to be decided)

Format: softcover

💙 How much will it cost?

The team is still working hard to determine the final price of the finished zine and we want to make it as affordable as possible. As soon as we are done wrangling the numbers, you will be the first to know! You can still sign up on our Interest Survey to let us know that you are interested!

💙 What kind of content will be in the Zine?

The “Coffee and Connections” Zine will contain both artwork and short stories, revolving around our favorite detective and android duo. We are aiming for the 2/3 art and 1/3 fic ratio.

💙 Will the Zine have a theme?

Yes, the theme of the Zine is “together-forever”! We are as excited as you to see what everyone will come up with!

💙 Wait, so the theme is not "coffee shop"?

No, coffee-related tropes and ideas are welcome but not obligatory.

💙 Will the Zine contain adult content or triggering content?

No. We want to make sure that it can be enjoyed by as many fans as possible, so we decided on the PG rating. (Which doesn't mean we won't consider a possible R18 Zine in the future, if you guys would be interested!)

💙 Which Creators will be featured in the Zine?

Creator Sign-ups will open on July 15th! Which means we don't know yet either, but are very excited to find out!

💙 Who is organizing the Zine?

An introduction post about our Team will be shared soon, so stay tuned!

💙 What goodies will be included?

We already have a long list of ideas for possible goodies but before we set on any, we would like to know your opinion! In a few weeks you will have a chance to vote in a pool for which goodies you would love to have the most, so we can prioritize.

💙 When will Pre-Orders start?

We want to make sure that the Zine is as perfect as possible, so Pre-Orders are still a few months away from now. We are going to keep you informed about our progress.

You can also sign up your e-mail address in the Interest-Survey to be directly notified about the start of the Pre-Orders.

💙 Will there be another way to get the Zine other than Kickstarter?

No, our Kickstarter campaign, once it launches, will be the only place where you will be able to pre-order one (or several) copies of the "Coffee and Connections" Zine.

Good to know for Contributors:

💙 Where can I sign up as a Creator?

Sign-Ups will open on July 15th and close on July 31st, so make sure you don't miss it!

💙 What happens to any profit?

After paying for all expenses of printing the Zine, making the goodies and shipping everything, all remaining profit will be donated.

💙 Will I be automatically accepted as a Creator once I sign up?

Unfortunately, no. Depending on how many artists and writers will sign up, we might have to make a selection. There’s a multitude of factors that go into selecting participants. The skill-level, dependability and how well their style fits into the Zine are just a few of them.

Once Sign-Ups are closed we will send out e-mails with further information.

💙 Can I use already existing art or fanfiction?

No. Every piece of art and writing has to be made specifically for the Zine and never before shared on any platform or in other publications.

💙 How can I help to make the goodies?

You will be able to offer to help with creating the designs for our goodies in the upcoming Creator Sign Up Form. You won't have to make or order anything yourself, The Team will take care of that later on.

💙 We hope you are as excited as we are! 💙

Feel free to send us asks with any further questions!

And don’t miss to fill out the Interest-Survey!

#Reed900 #DBH #detroid become human #DBHzine #g9

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whump-a-la-mode · 3 years ago

Text

Nemesis - Part 4

Based on the votes from Part 3, option B was chosen-- Hero will lie to Leader, and trust Hacker. But time is running out, and they must make their move fast. Perhaps, however, they have moved too fast.

Thanks so much to everyone for reading, and special thanks to @whumpilicious for coming up with Hero’s plan!

CW//Mentions of breakups, mentions of concussions, crude jokes, shapeshifting, forced sedation

“No. They need to be here.”

“And why would that be?”

Hero’s attempt to suppress a shiver failed as a single bead of frigid sweat ran down the back of their neck.

They could tell Leader the truth. Hell, they would likely never get a chance as good as this one. The leader of an entire team would be an incredibly powerful asset, an incredibly powerful ally. They could have Villain out of there before Hero could blink.

Or, they could lock them away in some underground bunker, never again to be seen by human eyes.

It was an untenable risk. If Villain was ever going to be saved, Leader needed to remain ignorant.

When had they started thinking of this as a rescue mission?

They expected that realization to make them feel sick, but it did anything but. Instead, it reaffirmed their decision.

“There’s a reason the rehab facility is in the city.” Hero finally replied, after a long moment of shaky-eyed staring. “If anything happens, we’re close by. I’m sure the villains housed there are well aware of that fact. Moving Villain farther away... it’d put them even further out of my sight. It’d make my worries far worse, I assure you.”

Leader raised a brow, looking down at Hero a moment, as if studying a particularly interesting piece of artwork. At last, they nodded.

“I may not understand why you are so worried about this hypothetical escape plan, but I will humor you.”

“You won’t say anything to Director?”

“I will not give Director my opinion on the matter. But it is my duty to report your performance. The terms they outlined are very clear. If you do not stop distracting yourself with this silly venture within the week, Villain’s transfer will go ahead. There’s nothing I can do about it.”

Hero bit their lip.

“Do you report... everyone’s performance?”

“Everyone under my command? Yes.”

“But there’s dozens of teams.”

“I am aware.”

“Surely Director does not look over everyone’s performance reports.”

Leader’s mouth pursed.

“They are very busy, so I assume they do not.”

“Did you mention my performance to them?”

“No.” A crescendo of discomfort seemed to reach its peak within Leader, whose gaze quickly moved downwards, to the table.

Hero felt their ears grow red, yet they could not stop themself from pushing.

“They noticed on their own.”

“Yes.”

“The others have had slips, before. Remember when Teammate broke up with their partner? Or when Other Teammate had their concussion?”

“Of course I remember.”

“Did Director say anything then?”

“No. What’s with all the questions? I don’t know why Director is so worried about you, but it’s not my job to question their motives. It’s my job to make sure that the city stays safe, and that you keep your eyes on the road.”

Hero suddenly felt awfully lightheaded.

“Can I ask you one more question?”

“Just one.”

“Have you ever met Director?”

A moment of silence resounded as the gears in Leader’s head ground.

“No. No one has. We communicate only over E-mail.”

“Wait, one more question.”

Leader frowned.

“Do you have any pictures of Director?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“This is like, the equivalent of walking into the White House and pretending to be the President. You know that, right? You get that?”

Hacker’s voice was even more high-pitched and anxiety-twinged than usual.

“I am well aware.” Hero nodded.

They were well aware of how stupid the idea was, but they hoped that wasn’t evident in their voice. That was the only thing that really mattered, considering that they were currently speaking to Hacker on the phone, though it didn’t stop them from struggling to keep their shoulders level and their gaze steady.

“And you still want to do it. You still want to walk into the White House and pretend to be the President.”

“You’re really proud of that metaphor, aren’t you?”

“A little. Answer the question, though.”

Hero exhaled, exasperated.

“Yes. I’m doing this. There’s no choice.”

“Your hesitation went away really fast. Did you finally grow a pair of balls or-”

“We only have a week.”

“Oh, god. There’s a time limit now?”

“It’s a long story, but, TLDR is, Villain needs out of there in the next week.”

“Otherwise?”

“They’ll be transferred out of the city. Out of our reach.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. Damn indeed.”

“Well, then, what do we need to do?”

“Did you grow a pair, too?”

“Maybe. I’m not about to go guns blazing with you, but... Let’s just say I’m invested in how this all turns out. Any help I can offer from behind a screen, I’ll do it. Are you sure we only have a week? Is there any other option?”

“Well... The ultimatum is that if I don’t get my performance up in the next week, they’re going away. The Organization’s director thinks it’ll help me.”

“Then just get your performance up?” Hacker sounded perplexed.

“It’s not going to happen.”

“Why not?”

Hero gritted their teeth.

The way Hacker spoke, it made the situation sound so simple. As if Hero could just decide to forget years of fighting, of... of whatever they and Villain had. They couldn’t just go on. They should have been able to. Anyone else would have been able to.

But they couldn’t. They knew that their best efforts would not be enough to keep Villain within striking distance, no matter how much sweat they poured in.

“Because... Because I know it isn’t. And, besides, the sooner we get them out of there, the better.”

“If you say so, boss. What do we gotta do?”

“Can you send a fake email? Make it look like it’s from someone important?”

“In my sleep. What do you need?”

“Tell the rehab unit that they’re to expect a very special visitor.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was a stupid plan. Just as stupid as walking into a hostage situation pretending to be a reporter.

But, in the end, that plan had worked. Just not quite in the way they had wanted it to.

On the outside, the appearance of the rehab center had not changed a bit. Even the childish artworks in the windows remained static, untouched by the hands that had supposedly created them.

Yet, despite the appearance remaining unmoving, when Hero gazed upon the brightly-painted structure and its white picket fence, they could not help but feel as though they had swallowed a stone.

It all felt so wrong. A vicious Villain contained in such a cutesy building. If Villain themself knew, they likely would have been sick. Or furious. Or sick and furious.

If everything went right... they would know, soon.

That was all the plan that Hero had worked out. They had an entrance plan, and a car. Thinking ahead of that made them feel awfully lightheaded. Besides, future thinking like that was far too optimistic for their tastes. If, and only if, they made it out of this alive, then they would think ahead.

Until then, their future plans consisted only of what step they were to take after the current one.

“Do you have visual?” Hero whispered.

“You don’t have to be so quiet.” Hacker’s voice crackled in their ear. “You’re still in the car, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah. I just don’t want them to think I’m talking to myself like some kind of nutcase.”

“Maybe Director is a nutcase. No one knows. That’s what you’re basing this whole gimmick on, right?”

Hero sighed. “Just about.”

They pulled down the car’s sun visor, flipping up the little panel that covered the miniature mirror embedded within. Even with how long they had had their powers, they did not think they would ever get used to looking in the mirror and staring upon a face that was not their own.

Director’s face looked awfully like it belonged on the front of a magazine. Well-cropped black hair, a curling, defined jawline that led to ears adorned by modest steel studs.

“What time is it?”

“Can’t you look at a clock?”

“I want to make sure I have the disguise right.”

“Well, they’re expecting you in about five minutes. Do you think Director is early? Or punctual? Or-”

“I think if I sit in here for another second, I’m going to lose it.”

“Guess they’re gonna be early, then.” A nervous sigh. “Are you ready for this?”

“I think so. You’ve got point, right?”

“Yep. They’ve got their security stuff pretty well protected from remote infiltration, but so long as you’re nearby the building itself, I should be able to see everything the cameras can see.”

“What are you... what are going to do if I fail?”

“I think I’m the last thing you should be worrying about, in that scenario.”

“No. You’re a civilian.”

“Aw, that’s sweet, and last time you were calling me a criminal.”

“That’s not... don’t worry about that. Right now, you’re a civilian, and you don’t need to get yourself wrapped up in all this nonsense. So, in the very real event that I fail, what are you going to do to protect yourself?”

“I... I can cut the connection. The thing in your ear, it’ll look like nothing more than a normal earbud. Is that good enough for you?”

“Yes.”

“And, once you’re in there, don’t reply to anything I say. Not unless everything goes terribly wrong.”

“Got it.”

“Now, we ready for real?”

Hero gave a sharp nod.

“Let’s do this.”

Stepping out of the vehicle, they forgot just how tall they were in this form. They could change into all forms of animals, operate just fine as bird or beast, but existing in the form of another person never ceased feeling terribly odd to them.

They didn’t do it very often. But, this time, it was the only choice they had. And if no one had heard Director’s voice before... then their plan should work just fine.

It was far too many ifs and shoulds for their taste, but that wasn’t important. Not while Villain was still in there.

Hero slammed the car door as authoritatively as they could manage, keeping their gait even and steady, even as they moved in an uncomfortably restrictive suit.

They were at the door far too quickly. They settled their jaw, then, and entered the White House, pretending to be the President.

Behind the front desk was seated the same labcoat, though, now, they had a far more formal posture to them. Upon Hero’s entrance, they seemed confused on whether to salute or bow. After a few nervous moments, they settled for a simple:

“Hello.”

Hero flashed Director’s pearly white smile.

“Good afternoon. I hope I’m not too late?”

“O- Oh, of course not. It’s an honor to have you visit our humble facility.” Labcoat’s ears grew rapidly red in hue. “Would you like a tour, maybe? Or to meet with our head doctor? Or-”

“Oh, no, none of that will be necessary. I am sure we are both far too busy for all those formalities. You must run a very tight ship, here. It is very nice.”

“Thank you! Thank you, sir.”

“Of course. But, no. I do not need the tour. Perhaps another time. For now, I do not have all too long. Would you be kind enough to show me to Villain’s room?”

“Of course, sir.” Labcoat leapt up from their seat, still looking as though they wanted to bow. “It’s just this way, if you would please follow me. If that’s okay.”

Hero nodded in gratitude, following Labcoat through the steel door that led to the rest of the facility.

There was considerably more life to the building’s various rooms, compared to the last time they had visited. The common room at the front saw a group of villains stiffly sitting around a board game, moving the pieces at an agonizingly slow pace. Another watched an old movie on the television, their posture oddly perfect.

Hero tried their best not to show their discomfort.

Instead of leading them straight, into the dining hall, Labcoat turned left to one of the patient wings. The two of them walked past what must have been twenty doors, each of which had a name plaque upon its surface, stating proudly who resided within.

The door at the end of the hall did not have such a name. Instead, it had a simple label.

‘43′

Room 43. Villain’s own personal hell.

“Would you like company? Or would you like your visit to remain private?” Labcoat ducked their head as they spoke.

“Private, if you would not mind.”

“Of course not! Whatever you say, sir. When you are ready to leave just knock, uh, on the door. I’ll let you out. If that’s okay, um, or I could- Actually, no I don’t want you to have to knock. How about this.”

Hero felt their stomach twist, the organ confused about just how well the plan had turned out. To their great surprise, Labcoat reached within a pocket, producing a small metal key.

“Just use this.”

“Thank you very much.” Hero dipped their head, taking the key in turn. Like a mouse skittering from a cat, Labcoat was gone in an instant.

Hero was alone, outside the door. Their stomach sickened, though this time it was not from surprise.

Their plan was going perfectly! They couldn’t have hoped for better. They even had a key, and...

And they couldn’t do it. They felt their legs to be frozen in place, their mind instead filled with a spiraling cascade of images. Images of what their nemesis used to be.

And now...

“Hero.” The voice in their ear was soft. “Villain needs you.”

Hero nodded. They placed their hand upon the knob, and turned.

A gust of sterile air wafted out. Hero entered, closing the door behind themself.

Leaving themself alone with Villain. Some small part of them expected a witty one liner, a passive-aggressive joke. But there was none; only the mechanical whirring of medical machines.

And the slightest rise and fall of their nemesis’ chest.

They did not tell their legs to bring them to Villain’s bedside, but that is where they ended up. On the security footage they had seen, it had been nearly impossible to see their unconscious nemesis’ face.

Now, they had the best view in the world.

Some part of Hero had expected peace. Expected their former foe to have been spending their unconsciousness in a state of bliss. Certainly not an ideal state, but a comfortable one.

Instead, Villain’s closed eyes twitched, tiny movements flickering through their fingers. 375 days, and they were still fighting.

Of course they were. They would never stop fighting.

Hero didn’t notice as their hand reached out, practically on its own. Villain’s hand was cold.

Their face... everything about their face was too perfect. Too clean. Their mouth was locked in a permanent, blank frown. Their brows twitched, but did nothing more than that.

Villain’s eyes did not open.

Hero squeezed their hand tighter. The heartbeat monitor registered the slightest quickening of pace.

It was a knocking that broke Hero from their trance. They dropped Villain’s hand, stumbling backward, turning just as the room’s door opened to reveal a pair of blue scrubs.

Head Doctor smiled.

“Friend.” They chirped. “I’m so glad you could come visit. I missed seeing you, last week, but I understand how busy you are this time of year. How are you finding everything?”

Hero gulped.

Their imitations were perfect. They knew that, and they were quite proud of that fact. Just about any animal, they replicated with ease, and they could morph their face to match that of anyone they so chose to copy.

Appearances were easy. But there was one limit to shapeshifting.

Hero could not imitate voices.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Thanks so much for reading! Just like last time, there are two options along with every part of this story. Alongside each options is a question, so that you guys can give more specific suggestions if you so wish. The option that receives the most votes will be the choice that our Hero makes!

A.) Hero is too far in. Keep up the ruse - How should Hero explain their voice?

B.) There’s no way to get out of this. Take the risk and run! - How should Hero make their escape?

#whump #whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #choose your own adventure #choose your own whump #nemesis #hero villain whump #villain whumpee #drugged whumpee

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anika-ann · 4 years ago

Text

No Strings Attached - Pt.1

Y/N vs. The Mutual Crash

Type: Modern-college-professor AU x CHUCK, part of Attached series More info here and on the Attached masterlist

Pairing: professor!Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 2900

Summary for the series: When you literally run into a cute guy named Chuck in school hallway, you soon learn there is much more to him than meets the eye. Unfortunately for you, you learn the hard way.

What’s worse, the encounter sets events in motion you couldn’t imagine in your wildest dreams – and it make you question everything you know.

Warnings: for this chapter - tiny bit of 18+ nsfw smut in the beginning though it’s barely there, swearing, mention of a migraine... that’s it?

A/N: Just so I don’t spook you, we’ll start off easy… with a 2,9k chapter… enjoy and thank you if you’re giving this crossover a chance. You don’t need any knowledge of Chuck, not realy.

Attached & No Strings Attached masterlist

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Almost as soon as you woke up, there was a feeling in your gut; today was going to be strange. Strange in a way that you might not be entirely able to put a finger on, nothing all that special happening, but even though it was only half past six, you knew it was going to be one of those days.

Maybe it was the fact that you cautiously dropped a forehead kiss on Steve’s still sleeping form only to find out he was very much awake. His arms swiftly took a hold of your waist and pulled you on top of him, drawing a startled yelp from your lips, which he quickly silenced by a passionate good-morning kiss.

Maybe it was the fact that you nearly ended up being late.

You were not the only one waking up with a peculiar mood. After Steve’s kiss stole all air from your lungs, he was rolling the pair of you over, trapping you against the mattress, arousal evident, hands wandering and sneaking under your sleepshirt, trailing higher and higher until they reached one of his favourite playgrounds. The rest was history; it was quick and little sloppy but undeniably lustful. Still, it led to mutual satisfaction and to not having even remotely enough time to get ready for the day.

Maybe it was the e-mail Bucky sent yesterday at almost 10 p.m. informing his students that there would be a last-minute change of classroom, because special guests were coming to give a lecture. A lecture that started at 8 a.m.. You hated early morning classes; the only thing making them bearable was Bucky, because he was a damn good and funny professor.

God knew if the guests were about to be a blessing or a punishment. Either way, you had a hunch today was going to turn out kinda weird.

And you only had that confirmed as you rushed through the corridors, the home-made coffee in your opened thermo cup in hand—and suddenly it was gone.

Because you crashed into someone. Well, someone crashed into you. It was a mutual crash.

Point being – a hiss of pain escaped your lips, cup slipping from your fingers as the last remnants of coffee stained it, hands thrown in the air—only to slap the person’s shoulder in the process, because they happened to be in the way.

“Whoa!”

“Dammit!” you cursed, shaking your hand to distract yourself form the mild burn.

You eyed the puddle of brown liquid at your feet before your gaze moved up, noticing a few droplets on your jeans, and finally you fixed your gaze on your crashmate.

A relatively tall brunet stared at you, dark eyes wide, an apologetic expression on his face.

“I’m sorry!” you both blurted out at the same time.

Short awkward silence followed as you just kept staring at each other, unable to utter a word. And then you chuckled at the absurdity.

You noticed the guy’s lips curling up in a brief smile as you shook your head and went to find tissues in your backpack.

It wasn’t funny – more like annoying, actually. But you did find it funny. Maybe it was because you had a perfectly steamy morning quickie with your fiancé, making you giddy. Maybe it was because this guy, dressed in a grey shirt and black dress pants was kinda cute, the dark curls of his hair causing him to look rather endearing and charming at the same time and—he was smiling too. There was an air around him; a very friendly air.

“Oh, no, let me help!” he rushed to crouch by the offending puddle before you could even open your backpack and you swiftly lowered yourself too.

“It’s no problem, the cup was pretty much empty, luckily…” you mumbled, shooting him a forgiving smile. He met your eyes, one corner of his lips rising higher.

Oh no. He really was cute.

Now, after the mess with Daniel, you were wary of cute guys, even if it came to innocent flirting. But this one, your crashmate… well. There was something about him screaming ‘trust me’; with Daniel, when you looked back at your first encounter, everything screamed ‘smug jerk’.

The brunet reached for the pack of paper tissues you were holding and so you shrugged, handing him some. If he wanted to help, who were you to stop him? It was both yours and his fault.

“Well, I’m glad it wasn’t full and I didn’t go all Hugh Grant on you,” he uttered as you both worked.

You stared at his Converses for a full second and then it hit you, drawing a surprised laughed from you.

“Was that a Nothing Hill reference? Am I Julia Roberts in this scenario?”

He smiled unsurely at you, seeming rather embarrassed – but seeing your expression, he relaxed. “Yeah, but luckily, you’re not, because the cup was almost empty. Still sorry about the coffee though.”

Picking up the soaked tissues, you went to find the nearest trash can.

“Well, if I-“ didn’t let my fiancé fuck me raw when I was supposed to be getting ready for the day- “-was watching where I was going, this wouldn’t have happened, so we’re good,” you assured him.

“Are you sure that I shouldn’t, eh,” he pointed somewhere behind him vaguely in a sweeping gesture, smile a smidge shy, ”run to the cafeteria or something to buy you a fresh cup?”

Alert! A guy’s asking you out!

And alert it was; after the fiasco with Daniel, you made it a point to cut things off before they could develop into a sticky situation.

“Oh! That’s really nice of you…?”

You didn’t remember seeing him around before. New student? An exchange student? Because it always went so well with those…

“Chuck.”

“Right, Chuck. Nice to meet you,” you quickly uttered, introducing yourself as well. “But I don’t really--- I, eh-“

You gave up and just awkwardly showed off your left hand. The beautiful ring that once belonged to Steve’s mother – and goddammit, wasn’t it still making you feel all soft and fuzzy – sitting on your ring finger.

Chuck’s gaze zeroed on the jewellery for a moment and then it seemed that something clicked in his brain. He swiftly raised his hands in a no harm gesture, brief panic crossing over his face.

”Oh no! That’s not what I meant, though--- congratulations, but I really didn’t mean to ask you out or something-“ he babbled, hands clenching and unclenching, toying with the belt-loops of his pants the next moment.

You felt your cheeks heat up. Was he trying to cover for the fact that he was embarrassed for wanting to ask you out or had you totally misjudged this situation?

“-though this totally was a meet-cute if I’ve ever seen one and it’s not that you’re not good-looking, I mean attractive and beautiful, because of course you are-“

Oh god, he wasn’t cute.

He was an adorable disaster! You didn’t even care what the truth was at this point.

“-but obviously you’re engaged and I really wasn’t making a move or anything—and I’m gonna have to stop talking right now,” he finished breathlessly, closing his eyes with a self-depreciating smile, his chest rising and falling as he was trying to calm down.

Your cheeks burned from smiling so wide, a cackle fighting its way past your lips. Even if you didn’t want to laugh at him.

“Okay, Chuck. I think I get what you’re saying,” you assured him and because he was clearly adorable, he warily cracked one eye open as if to check if the embarrassing situation you two found yourself in went away. When he noticed your smile, his tense shoulders relaxed, both eyes opening.

“I’m glad. I’m sorry for embarrassing us both. I might as well be that guy from Nothing Hill…”

You laughed – like honestly, nearly having to clutch your belly, laughed. You couldn’t help it.

“Well, you’re charming enough. But I’m afraid I’m no movie star in hiding.”

“You’re cute enough to be one, no discussion here,” he said, his twinkling eyes gave your face a very quick once-over. Somehow, you found his compliment both funny and flattering. A lopsided grin appeared on his face, twisting into a grimace as he hesitantly raised his finger. “But, if we’re talking meet-cutes, I’m afraid I’m more of a Richard Gere here… I got a little bit lost. Point me the right direction, please?”

Whoa, he was stepping up, talking Pretty Woman now. You really liked that dorky comment though.

“Where you headin’?”

“2.34?”

You blinked in surprise, wondering if you heard wrong. Because that was where you were heading.

“Oh? Interesting…” you muttered, earning a curious head tilt from him. Glancing again at your jeans, you grimaced. Those stains had to go… guess direction would have to do. “Yeah, that one is a little tricky… and dumb. You have to go through 2.33. Not that there’s any badge on the door on anything.”

He gasped theatrically. “Tricky!”

“I know! It’s a test of our interhuman skills; can’t really finding without asking someone first. I’ll see you there, I suppose, gotta clean up the cup and… well, me.”

“I’m sorry, again. And thank you,” Chuck said politely, sending you a final smile.

“You’re welcome, Chuck.”

Here’s a thing about hunches: sometimes, they come true.

Being run down in a hallway was nothing too weird, oh no. Not even when a funny charming guy was involved.

Things only got weird when you entered the lecture hall and finally realized why was Chuck heading to the same room as you did. He stood next to Bucky at the professor’s stand, quietly talking to a stunning blond woman in a dress suit and glasses.

Feeling blood rushing to your head, setting your cheeks aflame in embarrassment, you went to find a seat, noticing everyone was sitting with a space of at least three seats between them and never behind. As if you were about to write an extremely important test. Great.

Could this day get any better?

Two taps sounded through the room as Bucky tried the microphone.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Well, good for some of us, at least,” Bucky stated, unmistakably finding you in the crowd as if he knew exactly how your morning went – at least the part before you left the apartment. You wanted to sink through the floor – and wasn’t that a familiar feeling under Bucky’s knowing gaze. “Find your seats, please, so we can start. We have some special guests from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs today with us to present you a special program you can apply to, so… you know. Pay attention. They’ll tell you the rest.”

Oh, so you had run into a guy from Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Spectacular.

To be fair, he had been a dork. How were you supposed to tell he was important?! He was still pretty cute standing there.

Also: the blonde by his side? Yeah. You understood now why he reacted the way he did earlier. Because if he knew a woman like that, the idea he was trying to ask you out – or anyone, really – was laughable. Hell, you’d ask her out.

“Morning, my name is Charles Carmichael and this is my colleague, Sarah Walker,” Chuck started off pleasantly, if little nervous from having all eyes on him.

“Like your professor said, we’re here to present you… with an opportunity to get a training for special analyst in one of departments. And before you ask why we’re ambushing a history class when we’re looking to fill an analyst vacancy…”

Several people laughed and you did too – he sounded like the guy from the hallway, only a bit more presentable.

“-it’s because we really talk about this with pretty much every student on this university, so you can see we have a lot of presentations still ahead. Anyway, I’m gonna talk a bit about the program and about our ministry in general, so… yeah. Please listen carefully and watch carefully too. Spoiler: it’s important. Thanks.”

The lights dimmed and he started the presentation, slowly pulling you in and making you forget the incident in the hallway.

And despite his charming ways… the presentation was rather strange too.

It was just one of those strange days.

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You didn’t think there would be anything to add insult to the injury, to turn into the so-called cherry on top.

You were wrong.

Chuck, or Charles Carmichael, was an alright presenter. He remained a dorky character, only enough to hold all of the students’ attention, that was quite okay. It was the pictures that appeared in between those images that felt perfectly in place, that were… just weird. Like… a rose. A beach. New York skyline. Pictures that were not at all related to what he was talking about. He always played it off as a joke – supposedly placing them there to keep you on your toes – but there was something that just felt… off.

And during what you later found out was like the last third of the presentation, you felt a headache starting to build. Not a terribly intense one, but strong enough to be fairly annoying and insistent on bugging you, just above your eyebrows. You couldn’t remember your head ever hurting in such way.

Then things got worse; you indeed got a test to complete. The nice people from Ministry of Foreign Affairs told you not to worry about getting it wrong affecting your marks in your course, obviously, so you didn’t, not really.

But it was hard to ignore that it was the weirdest fucking test you had ever seen.

In each task, pick five of ten words you associate with the word in question, read the instructions. Which on its own could be considered strange, but… it was the supposedly associated words that truly confused the heck out of you.

For ‘rose’ there were clear answers like ‘thorn’ and ‘flower’. The rest of the offered words? Non-sense. Like—utter nonsense. Bulldog, Victoria, Sao Paolo, camp, mirror, Tower Bridge, eagle, heroin. You stared at the words, reading them over and over, the pressure in your forehead growing more vexing by the minute.

For some inexplicable reason, your mind kept on gravitating towards the Sao Paolo, eagle and heroin; surprisingly vivid images of each flashing behind your eyelids as you closed them to relieve the headache. The light was starting to hurt your eyes despite being rather low. It was irritating.

Deciding the stupid test didn’t matter, you went with the first thing that came to your mind for each question, finishing among the firsts. It was rather relieving to see everyone’s face as confused as you imagined your looked.

Leaving the class, you spared Chuck one last glance, finding him staring at you with eyebrows furrowed; brief glance at Bucky told you why, for he wore the very same expression. It seemed that you weren’t very good at masking your suffering. You attempted a lame smile, knowing that you were about to ditch the class that followed.

Catching up with Linda, one of the girls who were with you in Callahan’s class, you begged her to give him your apology; the headache was turning into a splitting damn migraine.

Linda shot you a compassionate smile and assured you she would vouch for you looking absolutely terrible and having no other option than leaving.

“Thanks,” you chuckled weakly, nails digging into your palms as a mild case of vertigo threatened to throw you completely off balance.

“Hey, do you want me to call someone? Take you to the infirmary?” Linda worried, sporting a textbook example of having concern written all over her face. “Not joking, you do look like you’re gonna pass out. Rogers’ gonna be out for blood if he finds out I talked to you and let you wander off in this state.”

The image of Steve stalking down the hallway with an exasperated expression on his face searching for your classmate seemed rather amusing; but that was unlikely to happen.

“Nah, he should be all sunshine. Lots of endorphins released this morning,” you mumbled, absently rubbing at your forehead.

You only realized what you said when a dramatic silence followed, soon broken by Linda’s snort of laughter. The shock of you blatantly revealing something like that in your compromised state helped you to focus a bit more, bringing some clarity to your vision.

“I so didn’t need to know that. Good thing I have Callahan now and not him, I wouldn’t be able to look him in the eye. I’d be imagining him shirtless with a perfect case of bed hair. Gosh, you’re such a lucky bitch.”

“Don’t I know it,” you offered with another weak smile.

“I’m sure you do,” she hummed, lightly patting your shoulder. “Now you get home safe and get some rest.”

“Thank you, Linda. Really.” She only shrugged it off as if it was nothing. The friendly display brought an honest smile to your face and caused you to perk up enough to joke. “Oh, and Steve usually sleeps in a t-shirt, sorry to break it to you. But his bed hair is dreamy.”

“…I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

She would have if you added that the rumour about Professor Rogers being true. That he was indeed packing.

With a smirk at that thought alternating with a grimace whenever a sharp pain hit the back of your head, you headed home.

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Part 2

About

Chuck characters

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Thank you for reading :-*

In case you missed one of my way too many announcements, in Chuck, every episode was named Chuck vs. Something. I decided to keep the theme and go against my usual not-so-frequent use of Y/N in my stories.

P.S. – if any of this felt familiar to Chuck fans, know, some of the plot is a big nod to episode 1x07 Chuck vs. the Alma Mater. It’s one of my faves for many reasons – the plot, hilarious lines, the LOTR references… Honestly, they had me at this scene (0:05 – 0:25 though you can watch the full 2 min, obviously)

Anika Ann out

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