#computer courses for job after graduation | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

c1qfxugcgy0 · 7 months ago

Text

adventures in aerospace

So I recently started working at Large Aircraft Manufacturer. (LAM) The plant I work at employs 30,000 people. The company as a whole employs 170,000. Usually you only hear about LAM when something goes wrong. But no matter how bumbling it seems from the outside, it's way worse on the inside.

Three months after my first day, I have been "graduated" from "training." In reality, I'm still completely worthless on the floor: the training center has given me a paltry subset of the production certificates I need to actually to do my assigned job. A commonly cited statistic at LAM is that a hundred men a day are retiring, each one representing decades of experience, walking out the door, forever. The training center is in the unenviable position of managing a generational replacement, and have resorted to shoveling heaps of zoomers through as fast as possible. (As one of the few people with a visible hairline and who is not wearing a Roblox graphic tee; I am frequently mistaken for an instructor, and asked where the bathroom is, what time the next class starts, etc)

In theory, the training center knows what shop I'm assigned to, and can simply assign me all the required classes. In practice, they do the absolute minimum amount of training in a desperate attempt to relive the crowding in their handful of computer labs and tell graduates to pick up their certs later.

Of course, the irresistible force of the schedule meets the immovable object of the FAA. If you don't have the required production certificate to perform a particular job, you don't touch the airplane. Full stop, end of story.

And so the curtain opens on the stage. It reveals a single senior mechanic, supervising a mechanic who finally received all the certs and is being qualified on this particular job, surrounded by another three trainees. Trainees are less than nothing, absolute scum. At best we can fetch and carry. Mostly we are expected to stay out of the way. And the senior mechanic is only senior in title. He is one of six assembler-installers who is certified to actually work on the plane, out of twenty people on the crew, and spends every day with a permanent audience. He is 23 years old.

("Mechanic"? If you think the jargon at your job is bad, try joining a company that's a century old. Assembler-installers are universally referred to as "mechanics", despite doing work that's nothing like what a car mechanic does, and who are generally paid far worse than FAA certified A&P mechanics. Mechanics are the 11 bravos of LAM, grunts, the single largest category of worker. The tip of the spear. Hooah!)

Large Aircraft Manufacturer is in a dilly of a pickle. All of its existing airframe designs are hilariously antiquated. It tried designing a brand new plane from a clean sheet, and lost billions of dollars to a decade-long integration hell. After that, to save money, it tried just tacking bigger engines on an older design without changing anything else, and the stupid things plowed into the ground in an excruciatingly public manner.

LAM is now trying a middle road. It is upgrading one of its designs that is merely middle aged, rather than ancient, and with proven, de-risked components built in-house, rather than scattering them to subcontractors across the world. And it's still blowing past deadlines and burning billions of dollars LAM really doesn't have to spare.

This is the program I've been assigned to.

Advanced Midbody - Carbon Wing has taken the bold step of just tacking on carbon fiber wings to a conventional aluminum fuselage. Shockingly, AMCW is now stuck in lightning strike testing, due to that troublesome join between conductive aluminum and conductive...ish carbon fiber. But LAM, confident as ever, or perhaps driven by complaints of its customers, has announced that full rate production will begin just next year. Thus the tide of newhires. According to the schedule, we're supposed to jerk from one wingset a month to one wingset a week. That's not going to happen, but, oh well, orders from above move down at the speed of thought, while reality only slowly trickles upwards.

"120 inch pounds? Really?"

I startle upright. I have observed one hundred pi bracket installs, and I will observe a hundred more before I can touch aircraft structure. This is the first disagreement I've witnessed. A more advanced trainee is questioning the torque spec on a fastener. It is not an entirely foolish question-- most sleeve bolts we use are in the 40 in-pounds range. Doubling it that is unusual. I cough the dust off my unused vocal cords and venture an opinion.

"Well hey I could look it up? I guess"

The lead mechanic glances at me, surprised that I'm still awake, then looks away. Excuse enough for me!

I unfold myself from the stool I've been sitting on for the last four hours then hobble over to the nearest Shared Production Workstation.

We do not get Ikea-style step by step instructions on how to put together the airplane. Like any company that's been around for long enough, LAM is a tangled wad of scar tissue, ancient responses to forgotten trauma. If you state a dimension twice, in two different places, then it is possible for an update to only change one of those dimensions, thereby making the engineering drawing ambiguous. Something real bad must have happened in the past as a result of that, so now an ironclad rule is that critical information is only stated once, in one place, a single source of truth.

As a result, the installation plan can be a little... vague. Step 040 might be something like "DRILL HOLE TO SIZE AND TORQUE FASTENERS TO SPEC". What hole size? What torque spec?

Well, they tell you. Eventually.

(Image from public Google search)

You are given an engineering drawing, and are expected to figure out how things go together yourself. (Or, more realistically, are told how it's done by coworkers) Step by step instructions aren't done because then dozens of illustrations would have to be updated with every change instead of just one, and drawings are updated surprisingly frequently.

Fasteners are denoted by a big plus sign, with a three letter fastener code on the left and the diameter on the right, like so: "XNJ + 8"

To get the actual part number, we go to the fastener callout table:

(Note the use of a trade name in the table above. There is nothing a mechanic loves more than a good trademark. Permanent straight shank fasteners are always called HI-LOKs™. It's not a cable tie, it's a Panduit™. It's not a wedgelock, it's a Cleco™. Hey man, pass me that offset drill. What, you mean a Zephyr™? Where'd the LAMlube™ go? This also means you have to learn the names of everything twice, one name on the installation plan, and one name it's referred to in conversation.)

We find XNJ on that table, and fill in the diameter: BACB30FM8A. Now we look up the spec table for that fastener:

The eagle eyed among you might note that there is no "diameter: 8" on that table. As a LAM mechanic, you are expected to simply know that "diameter" is measured in 32nds of an inch, which simplifies down to 1/4.

(LAM preserves many old-school skills like fraction reduction and memorizing decimal equivalents like this, like flies caught in amber. Not least is the universal use of Imperial units. Many American manufacturers have been browbeaten into adding parenthetical conversions. Not LAM! Any risk at all of a mechanic seeing a second number and using it by accident is too great, and anyway, it violates SSOT. Lengths are in inches and feet, weights are in pounds, volume is in gallons and if you don't like it then you can go eat shit!)

After 10 minutes of following references, I arrive at that table, print it off, highlight the correct row, and hand it off to my senior mechanic.

"Great, thanks."

Gratified that I have enhanced shareholder value, I sit back down, and immediately fall asleep. Another day living the dream.

(next post in this series)

#avgeek #large aircraft manufacturer

417 notes · View notes

motorsportbarbie13 · 2 months ago

Text

What's A Soulmate? Part 3

In which your best friend comes back to you. But is it too late?

Warnings: oof the angst. swearing. that's it. Pairing: Lando Norris X SainzSister!Reader Word Count: 2.5k words

(a/n: this is how i cope after that hot mess of a race today. i hate everything and everyone except for my pookie bear lando norris)

- What's A Soulmate? - Part 1 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2 - What's A Soulmate? - Part 2.5 - Master List

2021 You keep your promises.

2022 And then he started dating her.

2023 Silence.

March, 2024Australia

“We are so excited to have you join the team.” Your new boss beams back at you as you follow her through the corridor. “Thank you for making the flight at such short notice. Had we known Summer was going to quit so abruptly, we would have had you come out with the team earlier in the week.”

You nod, adjusting the collar of your new papaya and black polo. “Of course, I’m just happy it all worked out.”

The heat of the Australian sun beats down outside the McLaren hospitality building, but inside the air is cool and dry. You’d landed in the country last night after what felt like the longest flight you’ve ever taken from New York into Melbourne but were so happy to be back in the paddock after what felt like ages.

“Like we discussed earlier in the month, you’ll be working with Oscar as his primary press officer. I’m sure you know what that entails and everything, not much has changed since Carlos was with the team, but if you have any questions you have my number.” Brenda smiles down at you as she hands you your new McLaren issued iPhone.

Three weeks ago, you had graduated from NYU with a double degree in public relations and business management. One week later, you had accepted a job offer from McLaren to join the communications team working with Oscar. Between your dual degree and experience working in the paddock with your brother, the job had been a slam dunk for you.

“The boys are just finishing up some filming up stairs. Let’s go up and introduce you to Oscar. You already know Lando.” She says, with a bit of a smile. Your friendship with the Brit was well known back during the years you were still working with Carlos. No one knew how much it had changed since though.

Nerves fluttered around in your stomach as you follow Brenda up to the second floor where you could hear Oscar and Lando loudly laughing at something. As far as you knew, Lando was unaware that you had taken a job with McLaren. You had asked Carlos and Charles to keep your new job quiet around the paddock, not wanting to create drama before it was necessary. This was certainly going to be a shock, you knew that.

The last time you saw him flashes through your memory, quick and painful, as Brenda approaches where Oscar and Lando stand each holding dry erase boards.

Early 2022

“What do you mean she doesn’t want me around?” You nearly laugh, the absurdity of what your best friend is telling you not fully computing.

Lando grips the back of his neck, eyes looking everywhere but at you. “Our friendship makes her uncomfortable.”

Now you really do laugh. “What friendship, Lan? I’ve barely seen you this year!”

It was the truth. Ever since you had started classes in New York last year, your time to see your best friend had dwindled down into nearly nothing. You went to as many races as you could but going from spending nearly 24/7 with your brother and Lando to barely seeing them once every few months was more painful than you had anticipated. It hurt so much to watch him continue on, seemingly so unbothered by losing you, but this? This was the last straw.

He had been dating the Portuguese model for a bit now and you had to admit, she was pretty and wonderfully nice. You truly had no issue with her, having met her once at a Grand Prix you had attended before classes had started this year. She was quiet, sweet, and obviously adored Lando so her being with him was fine with you. You wanted to see your best friend happy. But now? Now she was threatened by someone who wasn’t even a second thought in Lando’s head?

You had spent the last few months desperately trying to believe that Lando wasn’t pulling away, that he wasn’t purposefully putting distance between you and him. Texts would go unanswered, calls went unreturned. You had chalked it up to him being busy and adjusting to having a new teammate but now you guess you had the truth: he was avoiding you.

“If that’s what you want, I’ll respect your wishes.” You murmur, taking a step away, suddenly wanting nothing more than to retreat back into the Ferrari motorhome where you could nurse your embarrassment in peace.

“It’s not…” Lando fumbles, but you know what he’s about to say isn’t true. This is exactly what he wants.

“No, I get it Lan. She’s threatened by me. I respect that and I’ll make myself scarce this weekend. You and her won’t have to worry about me anymore.”

The pain of your words slices through Lando. He hadn’t wanted to do this, far from it. But the fight that she had started last night when she had seen you in the pit lane laughing with Carlos and Charles had put him in a tight spot. You were his best friend, but she was his girlfriend. He owed her the respect, right? Even if he knew that nothing was going on, nothing could happen. It wasn’t in the cards for the two of you.

“I’m sorry.” He says.

“Me too, Lan.

You blink rapidly, erasing the painful memory from your brain as your boss steps towards Oscar and Lando, who are watching you approach. The look on Lando’s face sends your pulse skyrocketing. It’s a look that’s somewhere between surprise, confusion, and maybe even a bit of betrayal and you hate every bit of it.

“Oscar, I wanted to introduce you to your new press officer. She just landed last night so I’m sure she’s a bit jet lagged but she insisted on getting to work straight away. She’ll be taking you around for media duties after FP2 today so be nice, okay?”

“I’m always nice.” The Aussie says, soft smile on his lips. “It’s nice to meet you. Lando talks about you all the time.”

Your eyes dart towards Lando, who is still somewhat glaring at you like he can’t believe you’re in front of him. He talks about you? Still? Your stomach does an involuntary somersault at this bit of information, blush creeping its way high up on your cheek bones.

The phone in your hand chimes with a reminder. Oscar is due to an Australian media outlet in ten minutes for an interview. “Well, that’s my cue.” You turn to the girl that had been filming the segment with a friendly smile. “Is he good to go?”

“He’s all yours!”

With permission to leave, you turn on your heel and walk towards the staircase, Oscar in tow. Lando watches after you, still struggling to process what just happened. You worked for McLaren now? As Oscar’s press officer? He had just played padel with Carlos this fucking morning and he hadn’t said a single word about this. Surly Carlos had known about your taking the job so why hadn’t he told him? Did you not want him to know? Did you hate him so much that you didn’t even care if he knew or not? How had the most important person in his life become someone he just used to know once?

That last fight before he…said some of the the most shameful thing he’s ever said flashes through his mind as he wanders down to his drivers room, suddenly needing a break.

“You literally never shut up about her. ‘She does this.’ And ‘she does that’. Jesus Christ, Lando you could not be more obvious about it.” The anger in her voice had set his teeth on edge. “And now I have to sit and watch the, what did they call you guys? The Chaos Gremlins? Now I have to sit and watch The Chaos Gremlins be reunited for the entire fucking weekend and just sit back and take it?”

“There is nothing going on between us.” Lando insists, running his hands through his curls. “I haven’t seen her in months. Months!”

“But there would be if she was here, right?”

He had no answer for her. Because she was probably right in her assumption. If you had stayed, Lando had no idea what would’ve happened.

“It’s her or me, Lando.”

The rest of the day passes in what feels like the blink of an eye. By the time Oscar is done with all of his interviews at the end of the evening, you feel dead on your feet. You’ve lost all sense of time, feeling like you’ve been hit with a truck and you want nothing more than to get back to your hotel room and sleep for the next 5 to 10 business days. Or the last free practice tomorrow afternoon.

The Uber to the hotel takes far too long but just as your eyes are about to shutter closed in the back seat, you arrive and drag your near lifeless body up to your room. A quick shower is all you have the energy for, desperately needing to get the germs of the day off and then, you’re in bed, blissfully tucked between soft white cotton sheets watching some weird Australian soap opera.

Your eyes are heavy when the alert dings and you nearly ignore it, assuming it’s Carlos checking in. He could wait until you saw him tomorrow. But a quick glance shows you it isn’t Carlos.

You don’t fully understand why you gave him your room number. Not when the only thing on your mind is going to sleep. This is probably a really bad time to have such an important conversation too but a part of you, that part of you that never stopped hoping that maybe one day your best friend would come back to you, that part of you wanted to get this out of the way so you could move on, with or without him.

Ten minutes later, there’s a soft knock on the door and you haul yourself out of bed, still bone numbingly tired but also strangely keyed up with nervous energy. This would be the first time you had really spoken to Lando since that night two years ago. Sure, you two had exchanged pleasantries when you found yourself in the paddock for a race weekend but most of the time you kept to yourself in the Ferrari garage and motorhome, making sure your presence wasn’t noticed by anyone outside of your brother and Charles.

Tugging on your favorite NYU crewneck, you pad towards the door while willing your racing heart beat to slow. This is fine. This is going to be okay. You two needed to talk if you were going to be working closely this year so this had to happen sooner or later.

The door swings open and Lando stands in front of you looking just as exhausted and devastated as you feel.

“Hi.” He breathes, hands wringing together.

“Hi Lan.” You sigh.

His smile widens at the nickname and you open the door a bit wider to allow him in. You cross the room, settling on the king size bed before staring up at him. “You wanted to talk?”

The pain in his eyes cuts such a deep slice through you, it’s a wonder you don’t start bleeding out on the bedspread.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back?” He crosses the room towards you, setting every nerve ending in your body firing. He’s too close and you can’t control yourself when he’s like this.

You shrug, wondering how you’re still able to hold yourself together at this point. “I didn’t think you’d care.”

Lando drops his gaze away from you then, shame and anger surging across his handsome features. “Of course I’d care.”

“You didn’t when you chose her over me.”

He drags a hand over his face, the look of misery that sits on his face is reminiscent of the night you told him you were moving to New York City all those years ago. The memory brings a surge of white hot pain that cuts you so deeply it steals the breath from your lungs. If you had known that this was where you’d end up, you didn’t know if you would have made the same decision.

“And listen, that was fine, I guess. You had to respect your relationship with her but the most confusing thing was afterwards. Why the radio silence after?” You fold your hands into your lap, unable to meet the gaze that you feel so heavy on your skin. He’s practically begging you to look at him but you simply can’t.

“I was ashamed.” He admits and you feel the tears prick at the back of your eyes, a hot and painful sting that reminds you of how much you’ve lost. “I was ashamed at how I treated you and couldn’t face it.”

“Rightfully so.” You mutter, rolling your eyes.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs while reaching for your hand. “I’m so sorry for how I treated you. I should have told her to fuck off for making me choose between her and you. I should have chosen my best friend and I’ve regretted that decision every day of my life since.”

The fact that you’re finally hearing the words you’ve been dreaming of hearing for nearly two years hits you like a ton of bricks. Here he was, your best friend, finally apologizing and owning up to his mistakes and for some reason, it felt like it was all just too little too late. How many nights had you stayed up, sobbing on your living room couch with your roommates over the stupid boy who was mean to you? Wondering what you had done to make him treat you like this? Hadn’t your friendship meant more than what it had ended up being?

And now, here you were, back in his orbit again and it just…didn’t matter. You had spent so many nights wishing this would come and now that he was finally taking responsibility and owning up to his actions, it just didn’t feel like it was enough.

“I think you should go.”

“What?” He stutters, fingers gripping yours almost desperately.

“I am exhausted and need some time to process this Lando. And you have quali tomorrow, you need to be focusing on racing, not on our issues.”

“I don’t give a fuck about racing.” He bites out, blue eyes turning stormy gray with anger. “I want to fix this.”

“This isn’t something that can be fixed with a single conversation.”

You didn’t even know if it could be fixed at all, if you were being honest with yourself.

“Then I’ll keep going until it is fixed, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep, Lando.” You warn, rising from the bed. “I need to get some sleep, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Lando feels like his heart is being ripped from his chest. He had never intended for your friendship to end up like this. It just…slipped away from him and he was so swept away by his lifestyle the last year that he convinced himself you were both better off where you were instead of together like the universe intended. He had been so scared to admit how wrong he had been, choosing her over you that night that he had allowed it to spiral so out of control it might never come back to him. You might never come back to him.

Tag List: @anilovessadbooks, @shelbyteller, @formulaal, @martygraciesversion381, @longhairkoo, @samantha-chicago, @stelena-klayley @dark-night-sky-99 @luckylampzonkland, @chlmtfilms , @inarabee @aykxz98 @forensicheart @cheer-bear-go-vroom @charlesgirl16 @lieutenantchaos @willowsnook @sltwins @linnygirl09 @powerfulmess @technicallypleasanttree @meglouise00

#f1 #formula 1 #lando norris #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris angst

318 notes · View notes

dreamdolldeveloper · 1 year ago

Text

back to basics

mostly free resources to help you learn the basics that i've gathered for myself so far that i think are cool

everyday

gcfglobal - about the internet, online safety and for kids, life skills like applying for jobs, career planning, resume writing, online learning, today's skills like 3d printing, photoshop, smartphone basics, microsoft office apps, and mac friendly. they have core skills like reading, math, science, language learning - some topics are sparse so hopefully they keep adding things on. great site to start off on learning.

handsonbanking - learn about finances. after highschool, credit, banking, investing, money management, debt, goal setting, loans, cars, small businesses, military, insurance, retirement, etc.

bbc - learning for all ages. primary to adult. arts, history, science, math, reading, english, french, all the way to functional and vocational skills for adults as well, great site!

education.ket - workplace essential skills

general education

mathsgenie - GCSE revision, grade 1-9, math stages 1-14, provides more resources! completely free.

khan academy - pre-k to college, life skills, test prep (sats, mcat, etc), get ready courses, AP, partner courses like NASA, etc. so much more!

aleks - k-12 + higher ed learning program. adapts to each student.

biology4kids - learn biology

cosmos4kids - learn astronomy basics

chem4kids - learn chemistry

physics4kids - learn physics

numbernut - math basics (arithmetic, fractions and decimals, roots and exponents, prealgebra)

education.ket - primary to adult. includes highschool equivalent test prep, the core skills. they have a free resource library and they sell workbooks. they have one on work-life essentials (high demand career sectors + soft skills)

youtube channels

the organic chemistry tutor

khanacademy

crashcourse

tabletclassmath

2minmaths

kevinmathscience

professor leonard

greenemath

mathantics

3blue1brown

literacy

readworks - reading comprehension, build background knowledge, grow your vocabulary, strengthen strategic reading

chompchomp - grammar knowledge

tutors

not the "free resource" part of this post but sometimes we forget we can be tutored especially as an adult. just because we don't have formal education does not mean we can't get 1:1 teaching! please do you research and don't be afraid to try out different tutors. and remember you're not dumb just because someone's teaching style doesn't match up with your learning style.

cambridge coaching - medical school, mba and business, law school, graduate, college academics, high school and college process, middle school and high school admissions

preply - language tutoring. affordable!

revolutionprep - math, science, english, history, computer science (ap, html/css, java, python c++), foreign languages (german, korean, french, italian, spanish, japanese, chinese, esl)

varsity tutors - k-5 subjects, ap, test prep, languages, math, science & engineering, coding, homeschool, college essays, essay editing, etc

chegg - biology, business, engineering/computer science, math, homework help, textbook support, rent and buying books

learn to be - k-12 subjects

for languages

lingq - app. created by steve kaufmann, a polygot (fluent in 20+ languages) an amazing language learning platform that compiles content in 20+ languages like podcasts, graded readers, story times, vlogs, radio, books, the feature to put in your own books! immersion, comprehensible input.

flexiclasses - option to study abroad, resources to learn, mandarin, cantonese, japanese, vietnamese, korean, italian, russian, taiwanese hokkien, shanghainese.

fluentin3months - bootcamp, consultation available, languages: spanish, french, korean, german, chinese, japanese, russian, italian.

fluenz - spanish immersion both online and in person - intensive.

pimsleur - not tutoring** online learning using apps and their method. up to 50 languages, free trial available.

incase time has passed since i last posted this, check on the original post (not the reblogs) to see if i updated link or added new resources. i think i want to add laguage resources at some point too but until then, happy learning!!

658 notes · View notes

wandamaximoffsbadgirl · 11 months ago

Text

Let's Talk About That

I saw the end when we began (1)

Psychiatrist!Avenger!Fem!Reader × Wanda Maximoff

Summary: You are the young psychiatrist for the Avengers, and you take your job very seriously, but what happens when Wanda joins the team, turning your life upside down?

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: legal age gap r is 19 w is 25, talks of death and grief, a bit of angst, therapy sessions

A/N: I had this idea for a while and wrote it a while ago, but spruced it up for publishing. I hope you enjoy it!

May 7th-10th 2015

The only sounds to be heard were the scratches of your pen against paper as you wrote down notes the old fashioned way and the hum of the AC unit installed in your office. Tony let you have a nice corner of the tower where there was sunlight and windows. You had gone with a soft gray for the walls, an L-shaped mahogany desk that had both a desktop computer and your laptop. Across from your desk was two couches and a coffee table between them with an assortment of fidget toys, a succulent, a handful of magazines, and a box of tissues.

Everyone had been away on an important mission and normally you’d go with, but you'd been recovering from a previous injury, you still are when you hear a knock on your door,

"Open." You let them know and just from their aura you can tell it's Tasha, but she's with someone else, an aura you don't recognize. You look up to find a girl with chestnut colored hair, and a dark aura around her. "Hey Tash. I'm glad you're all home safe. I'm assuming we'll restart our sessions?" You ask the red head.

"Yes. We can resume them. Tomorrow. Today I need you to have a talk with this one." Tasha helps her into the room and gestures for her to sit down, Tasha walks over and hands you a large file. "She came from HYDRA, they had a lot of info on her, she had joined us in the fight against Ultron." Tasha tells you before lowering her voice, "She lost her twin brother during the battle. So maybe you can get her to talk." You smile at Tasha and then look past the red head.

"Yeah of course we shouldn't have any issues Tash. Leave it to me." You tell her as I adjust your glasses, quickly looking over her file as Tasha exits, closing the door behind her, "Wanda Maximoff, 25, born in Sokovia." You say out loud as you walk around your desk to the other couch across from where she's sitting criss-cross. You take notice she's taken her shoes off and smile, taking note of the fact that she’s comfortable enough to do something like that. "I'm Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. I'm 19. I'm also an Avenger. I have a power that allows me to see auras and emotions. I can also influence people's emotions and use my voice to influence others around me." You tell her a little about yourself first to help make her comfortable with talking about herself.

"You're 19? How are you a doctor?" She finally talks and you can hear her thick Sokovian accent which is like music to your ears.

"I'm very smart. Graduated high school at 12 finished my Doctorate last year for psychiatry and Tony took me in as the Avengers Psychiatrist shortly after that. Everyone here needs a little bit of help and that is what I'm here to provide for you." You smile at her as you open a fresh notebook for her, choosing a red covered one noticing that she was wearing Tasha’s red leather jacket. "So tell me a little about yourself. Anything you want." You ask as you jot down her basic info on the first page.

"I love American sitcoms." she tells you first. You smile and look at her over your glasses.

"Why is that?" You ask as you jot down her words.

"We used to watch them as a family every night so we could learn English." She tells you making a smile appear on your face.

"When you say we who does that entail?" You question the Sokovian wanting to get to the root of her problems.

"My Mama, Papa, and Pietro..." She tells you solemnly.

"Who is Pietro?" You inquire, looking up from your notebook.

"He is...was...my twin brother." You jot down everything she says during your session and she does open up a little bit with some persuasion on your part, but that isn't unusual for your sessions.

"Well Wanda thank you for opening up to me. Your aura is looking a little warmer from when you first walked in. How about you come back in three days for another session?" You tilt your head as you grab a little card for her.

"Why three days?" She asks nervously, tugging at her sleeves attempting to cover her hands, but the jacket doesn't budge. She starts picking at her nails as an alternative, chipping the black nail polish further.

"I like to have frequent sessions the first month. Then we'll have them weekly just like the others." You let her know and she nods her head as you write the date and time for her to show up on the card for three days from now. Standing up with her, "I offer a high fives, hand shakes, fist bumps, or a hug at the end of sessions. Which would you like?" You ask and she's thrown off a bit by the statement at first but then answers.

"Hug. I could use a hug right now." You open up your arms and let her come to you. She ends up crying in your arms as you sooth her, letting her know it is okay to cry.

"I'll always be here for you Wanda. I'm always on your side." You whisper to her and she holds you tighter at the words.

You sat back down at your desk after Wanda left, feeling a mix of emotions swirling within you. Empathy for Wanda's pain, determination to help her heal, and a lingering sense of dread about what HYDRA had done to her. But you pushed those feelings aside, focusing on the task at hand.

As the Avengers' psychiatrist, it was your responsibility to help your teammates navigate the mental and emotional toll of their work. Sometimes that meant delving into painful memories or difficult emotions, but it was a role you took on willingly. After all, you had your own share of struggles, and if you could use your powers to help others, then it was worth it.

You glanced at the clock and realized it was almost time for lunch. You decided to take a break and head to the common area, where you found Tony tinkering with one of his suits.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted you with a grin. "How's it going?"

"Good," you replied, sinking into a nearby chair. "Just had a session with Wanda. She's been through a lot."

Tony nodded solemnly. "Yeah, losing her brother and all that HYDRA stuff... it's rough."

You sighed, running a hand through your Y/H/C hair. "Yeah, but she's strong. I think she'll come through it."

Tony gave you a reassuring smile before returning to his work, and you took a moment to appreciate the camaraderie of the team. Despite your differences and the challenges you guys faced, you were a family, bound together by our shared experiences and our commitment to protecting the world.

After a quick lunch, you headed back to your office to prepare for your next session. As you reviewed your notes from Wanda's session, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to her story, something hidden beneath the surface. But for now, all you could do was continue to offer her support and hope that she would find the strength to confront her demons and emerge stronger on the other side.

With that thought in mind, you square your shoulders and prepare to face whatever challenges lay ahead. As an Avenger, a psychiatrist, and a friend, you were ready to do whatever it took to help your teammates and protect the world from whatever threats may come our way.

≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈≈

Three days passed in a blur of meetings, training sessions, and the occasional emergency mission. But today, you were back in your office, eagerly awaiting Wanda's return for your second session. As you sat at your desk, reviewing your notes from your previous meeting, you couldn't help but feel a surge of empathy for her. Losing a loved one in battle was something you could relate to all too well.

Before you could dwell too much on your own past, there was a soft knock on your door, and Wanda stepped into the room. Her aura seemed a bit brighter today, though still tinged with sadness. "Hey, Wanda," you greeted her with a warm smile, motioning for her to take a seat. "How are you feeling today?"

Wanda hesitated for a moment before answering, "Better, I think. Thank you for... everything last time."

You nodded, understandingly. "Of course. It's what I'm here for." You gestured toward the notebook on the table. "Shall we pick up where we left off?"

For the next hour, the two of you delved deeper into Wanda's past, her memories of Sokovia, her time with HYDRA, and her experiences with her brother, Pietro. With each word she spoke, you could feel her emotions swirling around you, and you did your best to guide her through them, offering comfort and support where you could.

As your session came to a close, Wanda seemed visibly lighter, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Thank you, Y/N," she said softly, wiping away a stray tear. "I didn't realize how much I needed this."

You smiled back, feeling a sense of fulfillment wash over you. "Anytime, Wanda. Remember, I'm always here for you."

Before she left, Wanda surprises you by reaching out and giving you a tight hug. "Thank you," she repeated, her voice thick with emotion.

As you watched her leave your office, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to help someone in need, to make a difference in their life, even if it was just one session at a time. And as you glanced down at the Power Stone embedded in your chest, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps this was the true source of your ability to connect with others on such a deep level. But for now, all that mattered was that you were making a difference, one session at a time.

#ley speaks #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #wanda maximoff smut #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff fluff #ley writes #wanda x reader #wanda x you

514 notes · View notes

phoward89 · 9 months ago

Text

Based on this ask

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is his own warning in and of itself. Cussing, obsession, masterbation (m & f), p in v (alluded to), Dark!Coriolanus, Young Politician!Coriolanus, Secretary!Reader

This one got away from me so it's a bit long. Whoops...

You're at your desk, logging into your computer to start the day whenever the door to the office opens and in walks your boss. Senator Coriolanus Snow. One of the youngest Head Gamemakers and Senators in the history of Panem. He's only 24 years old and he's already so successful.

Crazy, right?

Your older brother was in the same graduating class as him at the Academy. Rein was a slacker that wasn't in the top 24 while Coryo- uh Coriolanus- was the top student, won the Plinth prize, and even did a short stint as a Peacekeeper to serve the greater good of the country (like his father General Crassus Snow did before him) before attending the University as a double major in Political Science and Military Strategies. Oh and while attending the University he interned under Dr. Gaul, became an Assistant Gamemaker, and even became the Head Gamemaker himself when Dr. Gaul died in a tragic lab accident involving her mutts.

And he did all of that by age 20.

Age 20!

After graduating from the Academy, Rein was shoved into the Peacekeepers by your father, retired Colonel Javanis Halvir. Your brother was sent to 8 and he complained in all of his letters about it. Once he was eligible to take the Officer's Aptitude Exam, your father had ordered him to sign up. So, Rein took the test and became an officer. He got assigned to PK Base D-12.

And that's what your older brother accomplished by 20. Oh and he also knocked up a local barmaid from the Hobb, causing your father to have a stroke. Your mother found it very comical.

And then both of your parents told you that you needed to redeem the family name, blah blah blah, and pushed you to be the top student in the Academy. So, of course you ended up in the top 24. And you mentored a tribute, a 17 year old boy from 7, that won. He was very proficient with an ax. You didn't have to do too much mentoring, he basically just hacked everybody to bits…

But you still won the Plinth Prize anyways. And during the ceremony for the prize, instead of Strabo Plinth handing you over the Plinth Prize it was his heir instead.

Head Gamemaker Coriolanus Snow.

After handing you the prize he had asked you to have a glass of posca with him, causing your mother to glare angrily at the interaction. Your father on the other hand was ecstatic that Coryo-uh Coriolanus- wanted to talk to you. He served under General Snow in 12; thought that Coriolanus was a man cut from the same cloth as his father.

Anyways, once you and Coriolanus Snow got to talking he admitted that he was going into politics and would need a personal secretary; an assistant per say to help him with his day to day tasks such as scheduling meetings, etc. and much to your surprise, he offered you the job.

That was a couple of years ago.

So, yes, that's how you got your job. And you really liked your job. It wasn't that hard to do plus it made you feel important that such an accomplished and powerful man trusted you to manage his life.

If you only knew that Coriolanus, who's been insisting that you call him Coryo for roughly a year now, has been lusting after you since he saw you in a cute dress that hugged your body just right when he presented you the Plinth Prize 2 years ago. Also, your boss is a dark soul. A cold man. But he does have a soft spot for you.

And only for you.

Which is why he greets you with a wide, manic smile that makes the corners of his baby blues crinkle. “Good morning, Y/N.” The platinum blonde senator says while crossing the room, heading to your desk.

“Good morning, Senator Snow.” You politely smile, pulling up the excel document in order to print out the day's schedule for your boss. And talk about your boss, he's holding a bouquet of white roses in one hand and a tray of coffee along with a pastry bag in the other as he stops at your desk.

Coriolanus sets everything down, only to grab the vase on the corner of your desk and bring it over to the trash. All the while saying, “I brought you some fresh roses, courtesy of Grandma’am’s rooftop garden, to replace the wilted ones on your desk.”

The blonde politician did that every Monday for you. He brought fresh flowers for your office vase. A vase he gifted you for your one year work anniversary last year.

Dumping the contents of the vase out in the trash can, Coriolanus gestured to the coffees and brown paper bag on your desk, only to explain, “The barista at the coffee shop got my order wrong, so I had to do a second order, but since I already paid for the wrong order I figured I'd give it to you.”

“Oh, thank you, Coriolanus, Sir.” You simply smiled, grateful for the free coffee. You were going to put a pot on in the break room as soon as you printed out Snow's schedule, but getting an unexpected cup of coffee’s always nice.

Perhaps you'll pay it forward and treat him to coffee tomorrow. The gods know that you have his coffee order memorized.

It's black, just like his soul, with a couple of sugar packets. Not Splenda, not Sweet ‘n’ Low, not Truvia, but real sugar made from sugar cane grown down in 11. Oh and he always has a chocolate filled croissant too.

You also know his afternoon tea order by heart along with his dinner orders from a handful of takeout places he prefers. Hell, you even know his liquor order for after hours meetings. But it's your duty to know those things since, after all, you're his personal secretary.

Literally his right hand woman.

“Darling, how many times have I told you to, please, call me Coryo.” Your boss shook his head at you while bringing the empty vase to the nearby bathroom to fill up with water.

It must've been at least a hundred times by now, maybe more. But it felt weird to you calling your boss such a personal sounding nickname. You're both professional adults, if you call him by his name it should be Coriolanus. If not then you'll just refer to him as his title, since he's your boss.

“You know I can't call you Coryo, Coriolanus. It's not proper; you're my boss.” You remind the senator, who's dressed to the nines today in a perfectly tailored three piece black suit- complete with a white dress shirt and striped tie, as he walks out of the bathroom and back into your foyer office with the filled up vase in hand.

A vase that looked dwarfed by his large grip. “We've known each other for a couple of years now, darling. I'd like to think of us as being on friendly terms, wouldn't you?” Coriolanus asked, placing the vase down on your desk and arranging the flowers in them for you.

You clicked the print button on your computer, only to swivel your chair around to reach the ink jet printer behind you. “Yes, we're friendly, but you're still my boss.”

“And as your boss I'm now ordering you to call me Coryo.” He told you, pulling out the coffee that was yours, due to error, and setting it on your desk while you watched the printer spit out the paper with his daily schedule on it.

“Fine, I'll call you Coryo.” You gave in, grabbing the paper and swiveling back around to face your him.

“I got two croissants since I had to get my order remade, so it looks like you'll be getting one this morning, darling.” Coryo told you, opening up the paper bag and pulling out a pastry. He grabbed a napkin that was stuffed into the drink carrier and put it on your desk, next to your coffee, before depositing your croissant on it.

“Thank you.” You simply smile. Handing him over his schedule, you announce, “Here's your schedule for today.”

The platinum blonde gives you a closed lip smile and nods before stretching his hand out for the paper. “You've got a dinner meeting tonight at 7 o’clock sharp with a political sponsor.” You reminded him, your fingertips brushing, while he grabs the outstretched paper from you.

Briefly glancing over the paper in his hand, he asked, “Would you like to go with me?”

“What?”

“Dinner at 7 o’clock sharp. Would you like to go with me?”

Shaking your head, you politely decline his offer. “Oh no, I'm sorry, Coryo, Sir, but I can't go.”

“Why not? Got a boyfriend or something occupying your time?” The senator sharply asks, his baritone heavy with a tingle of jealousy.

Coriolanus prayed to every God he never believed in that you're single. If not, well he's going to go whack some unlucky bastard to free you up to be his girl. He's decided that he's tired of pinning over you; stalking you.

Coryo's ready to take things to the next level. He's ready to fucking corrupt you; make you his forever. He's going to be announcing his bid for the presidential runoff, the first step in becoming one of two candidates to face off for the presidency, and it's time for him to get into a relationship.

A public relationship.

And you're perfect for that. Coriolanus knows, without a doubt, that you'll make a perfect First Lady. That your beauty and slight innocence will be the perfect contrast to his cold, stoic, but regal stature. That you're a perfect fit for him.

Plus he's getting tired of paying for whores. Whores that he has to keep disposing of so that they can't blackmail him about his sexual appetite. Coriolanus prides himself of being from one of the founding families of Panem, from the Old Guard. He even runs on the Old Guard ticket; he can't have some disgruntled whore tarnishing his reputation.

It'd be much cheaper and easier to just get you into bed; fuck you in all the ways that he likes.

But he also has a soft spot for you. Coryo likes you. Okay, that's a lie. He's obsessed with you in such a dark, sick way that if he sees a man smile at you or get too close to you then he's killing that man. Yea, Senator Snow’s in love with you, or at least in his head he's in love with you.

It's more like an obsession.

“No.” You shook your head. “I don't have a boyfriend.” Well, you had an on-again, off-again thing going on with your neighbor across the hall from you, but since it's currently off Coryo doesn't need to know about that.

Coriolanus swore that he heard the heavens singing hymns upon hearing that you're single. Yes, now’s the perfect time for him to make you his.

“Then I'll have my driver pick you up for dinner tonight. Wear something nice.”

Once again, you decline him invitation. “You're my boss, I'm sorry, but I can't go with you tonight.”

Usually Coriolanus appreciates your professionalism and dedication to your job, but right now he loathes it. Why can't you just accept that he's taking you to his dinner meeting tonight. That he's showing you off on his arm for the entire Capitol to see.

Leaning against your desk, he gives you a piercing look with his icy eyes and tells you, “It's a very important business dinner with a political sponsor, Y/N, and you're my assistant.” A calculating look crosses the politician's face as he adds in, “It's actually, you might say, very vital that you attend dinner with me tonight.”

Well…

When he puts it that way.

“Okay, I'll go to dinner with you tonight.” You relent, causing a smug grin to appear on Coryo's face.

“Good.” Coryo grins, making his face light up like sunshine, as he grabs his coffee and pastry bag. “Since dinner's at 7, I'll have my driver pick you up at 6:45. That'll leave a 15 minute window to get to the restaurant.” The platinum blonde told you the plan before pivoting on his heel and striding over to his office. Pausing at his door, with his large hand hovering over the knob, he looked over his shoulder and told you, “Wear either a red or black dress, but preferably red.”, before opening up the door and disappearing inside of his office.

Oh, how did you get into this mess?

Coriolanus sat at his mahogany desk, going over documents for various bills that he could either sponsor or just straight up deny. Honestly, most of the shit that got dumped on his desk he denied. If it didn't pertain to the Capitol and the Capitolites then he just shoved the document in his shredder and made a note to vote no, well in the Senate it was ‘nah’, on it.

And Senator Snow was notorious for voting nah on everything.

As he sat in his office going over mindless matters, he couldn't help but wonder about what you'd look like all dolled up for dinner tonight. He knew that you had a few nice cocktail dresses to pick from, but the mystery of whether you'd listen to him and wear something black or preferably red versus another color altogether made his head spin a mile a minute. He hopes that you're a good little secretary and listen to him about the dress.

But what he really can't help fantasizing about is what you'll be wearing underneath your dress. He can't help picturing you in a bra and panty set that hugs your body in the right ways. The senator's daydreaming about delicate lace molded against your most private parts, that are hidden away only for your lover to see.

And just thinking about becoming your lover, stripping you out of not just your dress, but your soft, delicate lingerie has his pants growing tighter. So tight, in fact, that it was downright uncomfortable.

Letting out a barely audible groan, the platinum blonde stood up from his desk and went over to his door. For just a moment, he leaned his forehead against it and debated on whether or not to call you into his office; have you on your knees underneath his desk for him. But then he decided against it; locked his door instead and went over to his desk chair to take care of himself.

You're not some district whore, you deserve to be properly wined and dined first before he has you on your knees for him- choking on his cock with tears and mascara messily running down your cheeks.

Oh, just the thought of you with your pretty mouth around his large cock had said cock twitching in his pants.

Quickly, Coriolanus makes his way over to the small sofa that's in the corner of his office. He makes quick work of undoing his belt, only to tug his pants and boxer briefs down just enough for his cock to spring free before sitting on the sofa. Spitting in his hand, he leans back into the sofa and wraps his large hand around his cock.

He feels his dick throbbing angrily in his cold hand while sliding his thumb over his tip’s leaky slit. The platinum blonde bites back a moan, and closes his eyes- pretending that it's your hand wrapped around his shaft and your thumb teasing his cockhead. Fuck, how he craves your touch. Using his thumb to spread precum over his tip and down the length of his dick, he started to move his fist up and down in measured glides.

Coriolanus knows he should just rub one out as quick as possible since he's at work, but the fact that you- the object of all his fantasies- is right outside won't let him. Being in such close proximity to you feeds his fantasies and he has to have a proper handjob session.

Coriolanus has to indulge in the make believe notion that you're the one pumping his cock up and down, twisting your wrist slightly every now and then. That it's you playing with his cum heavy balls, making his toes curl in his socks and black floor shines, as the fist around his cock starts to slightly pick up pace.

Gods, he's getting lost in his fantasy of you pleasuring him with your hands, hell even your mouth- that he's sure will be aching from his cock unhinging your jaw when you suck him off- that the loud ringing of his office phone startles him.

“Goddamnit! Can't I fuck my fist in peace?” Coriolanus grumbled.

He's angry that his fantasy was broken; that he has to fist his cock faster than he wanted to.

The phone continued to ring off the hook as he furiously moved his hand up and down his dick. He bit his lip and bucked his hips, spurting his cum into his left hand. The one that he was using on his balls before the damn phone started ringing like crazy.

Letting out an aggravated sigh, he grabbed a few tissues from the box on the side table next to him and wiped off his hand. Standing up to right his boxer briefs and pants, he heard your heels echo down the hall. Great, just great, now you're on your way to his office because the phone’s ringing off the hook.

Quickly, Coriolanus tosses the tissues into the wastebin. Rushing to his desk, he grabs the phone, only to slam it down. Hard.

Hey, he made the excessive ringing stop. Whoever called should just stick to the after 3 rings, hang up and try again later rule. Coriolanus has more important things to do than listen to a phone ring endlessly.

More important things: like jacking off to daydreams and fantasies about his secretary.

His secretary that's knocking on his door and asking him if he's alright.

“I'm fine, my darling.” Coriolanus called out to you while crossing his office. He unlocked his door and opened it, only to give you a manipulative smile while feeding you the bullshit lie of, “I just zoned out reading a grant proposal and didn't realize the phone was ringing.”

“Are you sure you're alright?” You asked, only to follow it up with the offer of, “I can always read some of those grant proposals and take notes on them for you, if you want. That way you won't get so bored to death reading them that you miss important phone calls.”

“You'd do that, for me?” Coriolanus asked, feeling a bit touched by your offer. Oh, how he thinks you're an absolute sweetheart.

A perfect angel sent to him from the Lord above. And he's your golden angel too.

Lucifer, that is.

“Of course, Coryo. It's my job to help you with paperwork.”

And before another word could be shared between you two, his phone started ringing. Again.

“Oh, I'll leave you to your call. Just put whatever you want me to read for you on my desk later.”

“I will, darling.” Coriolanus smiles at you, watching you walk away before closing his door.

Storming over to his phone, he sees that the video option light is blinking. Sitting down, he answered the phone and pressed the button to turn on his video call screen. As soon as the face of the half-assed idiot that was one of the Junior Gamemakers appeared on the screen he immediately felt a migraine coming on.

“Senator Snow, are you neglecting Head Gamemaker duties in favor of politics? You never answered my call.” The redhead man with a bad combover had the audacity to tell his boss via the phone screen.

Poor soul must not value his life…

“There’s 3 fucking months before the games, that I'm designing, so there's no damn reason for you to call me and let the phone ring off the hook. Are you incompetent? If you had the common sense that God gave a mule the. You'd know I was busy with other matters and couldn't answer your ridiculous call.” Coriolanus seethed in a long winded rant. His veins were protruding from his pale neck; a red vein was angrily popping in his forehead too. But it was his eyes that held so much hate in their icy orbs.

The man on the phone screen, despite being a few years older then Senator Snow, was a complete incompetent idiot in Coriolanus' opinion. Age certainly didn't make him any wiser.

“I'm a very busy man; next time you pester me I'll have you thrown into a tank full of rabid mutts.” Coriolanus promised the Junior Gamemaker before hanging up, hard, on him.

Coriolanus pinches the bridge of his nose and slumps into his overstuffed leather office chair. Letting out a heavy sigh, he rubs his temples and tries to calm down by daydreaming about dinner with you tonight.

Your day went on as it usually does. You took calls and made appointments for Senator Snow. You also read and typed up some cliff notes for a few bills that Coryo left for you before he took off for lunch. He didn't say where he was going and you didn't ask.

When he came back from a power lunch, you knew he went somewhere for drinks cause you could smell a hint of whiskey radiating from his pores, he greeted you with a simple thin lipped smile and placed a container of food on your desk. He didn't tell you to take your lunch break, but the way he wordlessly moved his baby blues between you and the doggie bag he just dumped on your desk was more than enough to give you a hint that he wanted you to eat. So, you simply thanked him, before handing him some notes and taking the food he got you to the break room.

After lunch, the remainder of your day was mundane. Or at least it was until Coryo emerged from his office and strutted over to your desk. You didn't pay him any mind, figuring that he prolly just wanted the other bills back along with the notes you just finished up on them. So, when he perches himself on the corner of your desk, all the while suggesting, “Darling, why don't you leave early. You can pamper yourself with, say, a rosewater bubble bath before tonight's dinner. Yea?”, you're taken aback.

You're in total shock.

Your nose scrunched up, reminding Coriolanus of a little bunny rabbit, as you asked incredulously, “Excuse me, Senator Snow? You're sending me home early?” Softly, you trailed off, “To take a bubble bath…”, while tilting up a baffled arched eyebrow.

“A rosewater bubble bath.” The regal platinum man corrected with a long finger high up in the air. Leaning slightly, so that he towers over you as you sit behind your desk (and gets a nice little peek down your v-neck blouse at your modest cleavage), he tells you, “You're such a dedicated employee; I think you deserve to go home early and pamper yourself before I drag you out to a dinner with my potential political sponsor.”

And what he wasn't telling you was that Mr. Feathersworth was bringing his mistress along. Oh yea… So, technically, it's a couples dinner.

Really? He wants you to relax and pamper yourself before a dinner full of political talk? Wow. You weren't expecting that from your boss.

“My bath and beauty products are actually rose-vanilla scented, Coryo, not rosewater.” You told him, before you could even think better of it.

A smirk appears on Coryo's face and desire briefly flashed in his cerulean eyes. The imposing man favored roses; in fact it was his signature, so that fact that you used rose-vanilla scented bath and beauty products had his cold, black heart beating with warmth, life, and daresay love for you.

“Darling, you deserve to pamper yourself in that rose-vanilla bubble bath. We'll be in for quite a long evening; you don't want to be tense beforehand, now so you?”

Well…

When he puts it that way.

Sighing slightly, you gave in with, “Fine, I'll leave early and pamper myself with a bubble bath.”

“Rose-vanilla bubble bath.” Coriolanus corrected with a ghost of a smile tracing his lush lips. Patting your cheek, he tells you, “Go ahead and go, darling. I'll be fine here for a few more hours.”, before pushing himself off of your desk.

“Thank you. I'll see you later for that political dinner.” You genuinely smiled, grabbing your bag out from under your desk and shouldering it before standing up.

“Remember, my driver will be by at 6:45 sharp.”

“Oh, that's right. You need-” You began, intending to give Senator Snow your address, only to be cut off by a raised hand. “I have your address in my employee files, Y/N.” His baritone hung thickly in the air like honey stuck on a honeycomb; slowly dripping down, as he ordered, “Go home and pamper yourself; get all dolled up in something red, my darling rose.”

As you sat neck deep in your tub, surrounded by bubbles, thoughts of your boss floated around your head. You never really thought much about him, or at least you didn't til now. Yes, you always thought that he was easy on the eyes- platinum hair (you always secretly wondered if the carpet matches the drapes), striking crystal blue eyes, a prominent nose, sharp jawline, tall and lanky build. But you never truly fixated your attention on his looks, or at least until now that is.

You can't explain it, but the interaction you had with him before leaving the office had your blood racing. You're flustered with dirty thoughts. Things that you've never truly let yourself imagine about Senator Coriolanus Snow.

But now…

Well, now you find yourself closing your eyes and thinking about your boss while relaxing in your bath; trailing hand over your breasts while your other hand’s rubbing your clit; dipping two fingers in and out of your pussy.

It's best to get this out of your system now, before you're stuck going to dinner with him tonight.

“Coriolanus, I was expecting your driver to pick me up.” You gasp, hand tightly gripping the doorknob of your open door, as you're shocked by the sight of the tall platinum blonde standing in front of you- dressed impeccably in a deep crimson suit with a single red rose in his hand.

“Bentley drove me here.” Coriolanus informed you. “Now, what sort of gentleman would I be if I didn't walk up to your door to get you our dinner date?” He smirks, offering you the rose.

Your eyes widen at his words. “Dinner date…but I thought this was a professional dinner with a potential political backer, Senator Snow.” You tell him as you shakily take the offered rose from his large, outstretched hand.

“Yes, well, my darling, Mr. Feathersworth informed me that he's bringing along his mistress to Mizuna’s so I don't see why we can't mix some business with pleasure as well.”

Before you could utter a word, the door right across the hall and behind Coriolanus opened; out walked your on-off neighbor ex. Bastard was dressed like he's going out somewhere (or going out with someone). His sea-green eyes look over at you and lock Coriolanus back a bit curiously: portraying that he can't believe you're all dolled up and going out with someone so regal looking.

Deciding that you didn't like the look on your ex’s face, you put your hand on Coriolanus' label and press a quick kiss to his lips before telling him, “Let me put up this rose, Coryo, and then you can take me on our date.”

Coryo grabbed your face in one of his hands and kissed you again, this time his lips searing and hungry, before running his hand over your cheekbone and darkly smirking, “You can just take it along with us, darling. I'm taking you home with me tonight; it'd be such a shame for you to leave your rose alone on a side table all night.”

“You're taking me home with you?” You asked, finding this information entirely new to you.

At least your bronze haired ex wasn't standing behind Coryo; gawking at you anymore.

Pulling you out of your apartment and locking your doorknob, only to slam the door shut, he bluntly tells you, “I’d be a fool not to, Y/N, and, frankly, I'm anything, but a fool.” Coryo smoothly tell you while leading you down the hallway; towards the elevator bank.

And of course when you reach the elevator your ex is just stepping into it. Great, now you're going to be riding in an elevator with your on-off neighbor ex and your boss/sudden new fling.

Oh boy…

“After you, darling.” Coryo sweetly tells you, guiding you into the metal box while following right behind you.

You feel your ex’s eyes on you, burning a hole into the side of your face, as Coriolanus hits the buttons to both close the door and go to the lobby.

“Should've known you'd be cozy with Senator Snow, considering you're his personal secretary.” Flew out of your ex’s mouth as soon as he saw Coryo's large hand come to rest on the small of your back.

“Odysseus…” You chastise, nearly hissing at him.

Coriolanus snapped his head around so fast, it was as if it was going to spin off exorcist style, and narrowed his eyes at the bronze haired man next to you. “I can have you turned into an Avox for slander against Miss Y/N, so I’d mind that useless tongue of yours if I were you.”

“Coryo, calm down. My neighbor-”

“Ex” Odysseus supplied at the same time you uttered the word neighbor, causing Coriolanus’ face to turn into hardened stone.

“She doesn't belong to you anymore, Odysseus. My darling seems to have gotten tired of settling for beans and has upgraded to the filet mignon.” The senator told your ex in a smooth, but eerily cold tone. “You ought to consider yourself lucky that I won't be calling for your tongue, but I'm sure I'm we can agree to you not bothering my sweet girl anymore, can't we, Mister-”

“Odair. Name's Odysseus Odair, Senator Snow.” Your ex shot out, his voice fake and sugary, as he played with fire.

Snow melts, but fish fry. And unfortunately for Odysseus Odair he'd learn that the hard way after Senator Coriolanus Snow gets him exhiled to District 4 for the crimes of slander. Coriolanus' cold ass gives Poseidon Odair, Odysseus’ father, an ultimatum- either sign over his assets, investments, and company over to him and go into exhiled on 4 with his son or his son would be turned into an Avox for slander against you, the senator's personal secretary and girlfriend.

Coriolanus Snow was a cold ass to everyone except for you. Something that you'd come to discover in time. But right now it's not important.

No, right now what's important is keeping the senator from tearing your ex apart limb by limb.

Sensing that Coryo was starting to unravel (something that you've never seen and, frankly, didn't want to) you rubbed his shoulder while telling him, “Coryo, please, just let it go. You don't want to be in a bad mood before dinner with your political backer, do you?”

Coriolanus’ jaw twitched for a moment before he gave you a slight smile, “Of course, darling.”

Odysseus found Senator Snow's demanear changing into sweet and loving for you at the drop of a hat very alarming. Honestly, he thought it was downright scary that Snow went from menacing one minute to practically cooing at you the next.

As soon as the elevator came to a stop and the doors dinged open, your ex practically ran out of them. It made Coryo chuckle.

You and Coryo walked out of the elevator together, only to cross the lobby and head out of the building towards his car. His driver, Bentley, was standing by the black luxury sedan that was parked in front of the curb. Upon seeing you with the senator, he quickly opened the back door. You thanked him and let Coryo help you into the backseat.

“Oh, darling, I'm so sorry for not telling you earlier, but you look truly beautiful in your red dress.” Coryo told you, once he was settled in the back seat next to you.

“Thank you, Coryo. You look handsome yourself.” You replied with a smile as the driver took his place behind the wheel and pull the car away from your building.

“And tonight we'll make quite the debate as a stunning political couple.” The platinum blonde confidently told you as you rode to the high end restaurant the meeting with major political endorser Mr. Feathersworth, and his mistress, was taking place at.

Tonight is only the first of many spent at Coryo's side. It's safe to say that you're Senator Snow's darling sectary; that he has a soft spot for you. After all, he charmed you into becoming his girlfriend with the guise of attending a political dinner with him for work related purposes.

But you'd accept that dinner invitation again and again no matter what universe you're in because that dinner ended with Coryo fucking you in the backseat of his car. The poor driver nearly drove the car off a bridge and into the opposite lane of traffic he was so startled by what his boss and you were doing. Yes, the two of you still were clothed (for the most part) but Bentley knew that if he looked into the rearview mirror and saw something he wasn't supposed to then Snow would have his eyeballs pickled in a jar (literally!). And after fucking in the backseat of his car, a life was created with Coryo and you never left his side.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

366 notes · View notes

squoxle · 8 months ago

Text

✏ TNAIT 001: If You Can't Beat 'Em, Join 'Em l.at fanfic

✰ pairing: nerdy!bandboy!anton x cheerleader!fem!reader | ✰ wc: 2.1k | ✰ cw: profanity, sexual themes |✰ plot: after receiving your midterm report, your parents threaten to pull you off the cheer squad if you don't pull your grades up. so, you take the advice of your best friend to seek help. [Series Masterlist]

“If I don’t see those grades going up soon, you’re done with cheerleading,” your dad spat at the dinner table.

“But my team needs me,” you whined. “I can’t leave in the middle of cheer season.”

“Do I look like I care about any of that?” He sneered. “This is an all-A’s family. And your grades are embarrassing,” he continued as he pulled out your midterm report. “Not a single A. And the worst part is that you’re failing math.”

“But that professor is a complete jerk.”

“I hardly ever see you studying. You go to class, come home, play your phone, and goof off with your friends. This university is very expensive and I will not continue funding your education if you’re gonna perform like this. School is about more than cheer.”

“But—”

“No buts. I don’t want to hear another word. Fix it or you’re done,” he said cutting into his steak.

“Listen to your father, honey. It’s very important that you maintain a good academic standing so you can get into a nice law school. Both your father and I graduated with a very high GPA—”

“3.75 and higher,” your father budded in.

“Exactly, so if you need a tutor—”

“I’m not stupid. I can do it by myself,” you mumbled. Even though you desperately wanted the help you knew this was a trap. Your father would not be happy if you were willing to give up that quickly.

“Ok,” your mother nodded. “But remember if you need the help it’s available for you.”

Being honest with yourself, you didn't want to go to law school and be a lawyer anyways. But you knew that your parents weren't going to let you graduate with a career as a cheerleader. They wanted you to have a real profession and since you couldn't pick fast enough, your father chose for you.

A job that was perfect for a sophisticated young woman and possibly a way for you to meet a good husband, or at least that's what your parents were telling you.

You finished dinner and went to bed. But not without logging onto your computer and checking your grades for each course.

• Politics — 79.47% • English — 82.97% • Math — 68.12% • Geography — 75.83%

"There's no way in hell I'm gonna be able to bring these grades up in time," you groaned as you closed your laptop and collapsed into your pillow.

"Is it just me or do you feel like cheerleaders are basically strippers in training," Chanyoung said as he opened his locker.

"Nah, they definitely are. Just think about it. They flip around and shake their asses in skirts so short that a small breeze will be enough to expose everything underneath," Dongmin replied as he leaned against the locker beside Chanyoung. "I'm not complaining, I'm just saying," he mumbled.

"No, you're right. And from what I can see is that the majority of them are brainless bimbos who've most likely sucked their way through school," Chanyoung said pulling out a few tablets to shove into his backpack.

"I bet you'd love to have some brainless bimbo suck you off," Dongmin chuckled. "You can't even lie and say that you wouldn't take the chance if it was given to you."

"I mean..."

"Exactly. I'm not calling you a hypocrite or anything, I just want you to be real with yourself," Dongmin said as Chanyoung zipped up his backpack, lugging it on his back. "Hell, I wouldn't even pass up an offer like that," he added, slightly bumping Chanyoung's shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess," Chanyoung shrugged.

"Anyways, I gotta go. I'll catch ya later tonight at the game, alright? Our usual spot," Dongmin nodded before walking off, leaving Chanyoung behind.

"Alright, see ya," he waved gently before walking down the hall.

Chanyoung wasn't entirely wrong, you knew a couple girls on the squad who did a few "extra credit assignments." After hearing about your situation one of the girls even offered to hook you up with the guy that helped her.

"Honestly, it sounds worse than it really is," Abigail said, her blonde hair falling in her face as she tied her shoelaces. "Having some pervy nerd pull up your grades is easy. Trust me, my grades were even worse than yours. And now I have a 3.5 GPA and nothing lower than a B on my transcript," she smiled before standing up to walk over to the mirror, adjusting her uniform.

"Yeah, but wouldn't it be weird if we use the same guy?" You asked.

"Hmm, I mean...I don't think so. Xoey and I had a threesome with him and he loved it. We also got a perfect 100 on our group presentation without editing a single slide," she beamed.

You bit your lower lip, considering the tempting option that had been placed before you.

"Look, if you don't want to get help from Jake, then you can find your own unsuspecting nerd who's willing to help you out in exchange for some action," she smirked, clipping a bow in her hair.

"Guys! What the hell are you still doing in here?" your brown-skinned cheermate, Nova, spat while waving her pom-poms around as she spoke. "You need to get on the field right now! Coach is already pissed," she said, her curly hair bouncing as she jogged away.

"Coming!" Abigail shouted. "We'll talk about this after the game okay," she said, shaking your shoulder before the two of you ran out together.

You met the sharp green eyes of Coach Sam, who looked about as pissed off as you expected her to be. "If you hadn't noticed by the raging crowd behind these doors, we have a big game tonight ladies! Remember your timing! Watch your step! And please, for the love of god, don't fuck this up!" she shouted before placing her black cap on, covering her shaggy dark brown hair.

She blew the whistle, signaling you all to do your signature walk out onto the field to open the game. You just tried your best to focus as you did the first cheer of the game. After you finished, you and the rest of your squad sat down on the benches.

"Abigail. ____," Coach Sam said tapping your shoulders.

"Yes, Coach?"

"If either of you pull some shit like that again you'll be running laps from sun-up to sun-down. Understand?"

"Yes, Coach," you answered in unison.

This game was important for three reasons.

1. If your university won, that meant you were going out of state for the next game.

2. There were cheer scouters watching tonight and the possibility of being picked increased with your performance.

3. This could be one of your last games if you can't figure out what to do about your grades.

"There's no A in cheer," your father's words echoed in your head.

"But there is in cheat," you thought to yourself.

As much as you didn't want to, you took Abigail's advice and scoped the bleachers for the perfect target. Dorky, lonely, and horny...but most importantly, smart.

Chanyoung and Dongmin sat at the very top row of the second tier, in the seats farthest to the left. You set your eyes on the dark-haired boy and his friend.

Curious to know who they were, you whispered to your cheermate Janice, asking if she recognized him. She knew almost everybody, especially since her dad was the dean of the university.

So it was no surprise that she was also head cheerleader and you were sure she had already secured a spot on a professional football team after college. That’s just how her family operated. Paying their way through life.

“Oh, that’s Lee Chanyoung and Han Dongmin, they're both a part of the university's orchestra. You'll usually see them hanging out together. Literally, like all the time."

Introducing New Target: Lee Chanyoung. Age 20. Perfectly talented brainbot. Not only was he in a highly desired honors society, but he was also a part of the college's orchestra.

You nearly smacked yourself in the face as you thought back to the first week of uni and how you were forced to attend the opening recital with your parents. "Classical music is a good way to lighten your mood and increase productivity,” your father said as you sat sandwiched between him and your mother.

Sometimes you hated the amount of pressure your parents put on you to be perfect. Unrealistic expectations that they couldn’t even meet themselves…at least not without pulling their hair out.

You were trying to find a balance between school and life. Yes, school could prove to be very beneficial for you in the future and a great investment, but you didn’t want to let life pass you by while you had your nose shoved 16 chapters deep in a textbook.

After Janice finished reciting what sounded like their admissions speech, you waited until the game was over to put your plan into action.

You texted Abigail to let her know that you’d be looking for a study partner tonight so she wouldn’t worry about where you were. But she told you to make it quick. She promised to wait around to take you home that way you had an alibi for staying out late.

The stands were clearing out as the game came to an end and you ran across the field to catch up with Chanyoung and Dongmin, throwing your bag over your shoulder.

"Hey!" you called out, hoping they'd hear you.

If they did...great, you could move on to step two, but if they didn't you would die of embarrassment.

"Uhh, are you talking to us?" Dongmin asked, turning around and tilting his head as Chanyoung paused beside him.

"Yeah," you said shyly.

"Oh my god. I can't believe I'm actually crumbling right now," you thought to yourself.

"Umm...well I know we don't really know each other, but I need some help," you tried your best to be confident, but you couldn't shake the fact that this felt like downright prostitution. "It'll just be for a couple of weeks to help me pull up my grades."

"Uhh--"

"I'll pay you for it," you spat. Maybe there was a way to get some assistance without having to degrade yourself--no shame to Abby. She did what she thought was right.

"Well, as much as I'd love to help you, I'm already swamped," Dongmin shrugged before a mischievous smirk crept across his face. "But my buddy Chanyoung is more than available."

"I am?" Chanyoung said, eyes widening in shock. That was the first time you heard his quiet voice since you came over.

"Of course you are," he winked, patting his friend on the shoulder. "He's been telling me all about how easy this semester has been on him and that he has way too much free time and nothing to do with it."

"Really?!" you asked, surprised everything was going so smoothly. Maybe you would be able to pick up your grades without having to lose your dignity after all.

"Oh yeah. Trust me," Dongmin smiled. "He can help you out with your little...issue."

Okay...this Dongmin guy was acting a little suspicious, but you needed all the help you could get. Beggars can't be choosers, right?

"Okay," you said pulling your phone out of the side pocket of your bag. "Let me just give you both my number so that we can keep in touch. I really appreciate your help," you unlocked your phone before opening your contacts.

Dongmin put in both of their numbers while Chanyoung stood beside him not saying a word. "There ya go," Dongmin smiled handing you back your phone.

"Thank you so much," you smiled. "Can I meet up with you tomorrow?"

"T-tomorrow?" Chanyoung stuttered.

"Umm yeah. I want to get started as soon as possible...if that's okay."

"Oh, yeah of course. That's fine. He'll meet you tomorrow in the library," Dongmin reassured you, wrapping his arm around his friend.

“That’s great,” you smiled. “Will you be there too?”

“Me? Oh no, like I said before, this is all my buddy Channie. He’s got nothing better to do than help a friend…well a new friend,” something about the cheesy grin plastered across his face was unsettling, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

“Okay that’s fine. Just text me what times you’re available tomorrow and I’ll meet you then,” you smiled.

“____! Girl come on let’s go!” Abby shouted from across the field. You saw her from a distance, checking her pretend watch, taping her foot.

“Sorry guys, I gotta go now. See ya,” you waved before joining Abby.

You hopped into her bright yellow convertible, leaving the boys behind on the field.

Everything was looking great for you. You had a study date planned with a total book nerd. Hopefully, he will be a little less shy tomorrow, otherwise, you didn’t expect to make much progress.

Thanks for reading the first episode of my series. [Series Masterlist]

Click this link to go to my main masterlist and stay tuned for the next episodes.

CURRENT TAGLIST: @chlorinecake @addictedtohobi @nikisvanillaccola @laylasbunbunny @urfavberry @antonitty @billiondollarworth @meowbini @mamuljji @riizeis-7 @littlebrightsrar @jisfairy @galorehearts @misfit-nvrfitin @siuewnb @ot7sevenlvr @earth2hannah @professsionalsimp @fairyofhours @wonbinkisser @lovelymulti @annielovescry @antosaurius @inlovekyo @luv4stxrs @v4mpsunghoon @rikiiminaj @brachiobun @pointlessapple @antititititoni @mrkvrse @ywnzn @kisplayhouse @strawberryhillsworld @cartimitsuya @jungwon15 @hanni711 @tsukkiteamo @hajoon-iz-won @songgmingii @bloodiichainzzxx @sunnynearthecoast @riris-a-mess @deewly @ericlvr @freeluvbot @pandajihoonn @mint-yooniverse @pwarksasteroid @huan9jun @zixoxos @snowyseungs @mintmyg @moonchild-please-dont-cry @taeheartss @seesawh @chloelr60 @dodot04lover @firedalarm-blog @kazscara

244 notes · View notes

thesoulspulse · 5 days ago

Text

Danny Phantom Randomness (The Family Man)

Haven't made one of these in a while, but what better way to start off the new year? So this idea really hit me hard while working on one of my fanfics (plus a christmas movie I watched) and I started thinking about a timeline where Vlad was just your normal everyday guy. No powers, no fancy gadgets, no expensive suits, and nothing close to billions in dollars in his bank account.

In this AU, Vlad did end up marrying Maddie too but also became a work-at-home dad to support her dreams and help her move on after the accident with the proto-portal. This time, Maddie got upset with Jack and both she and Vlad tried to warn him not to turn it on. Furious, she threatened to storm out but as usual he didn't listen though. But instead of standing there like an idiot in front of the damn thing, Vlad managed to dodge the blast and it hit Jack who was right behind him. Jack runs off but Vlad stays behind to check on Maddie who collapses to her knees, sobbing because she blames herself for what just happened since she never meant for anyone to get hurt, especially not her best friends.

Vlad consoles her and against his better judgement they try to make amends with Jack at the hospital, however, feeling ashamed and being as stubborn as a mule he refuses to let anyone see him. Devastated, Maddie gives up researching ghosts altogether and in an effort to keep her from spiraling into a terrible depression Vlad suggests she switch her major, promising to support her no matter what. And he does just that. Giving up his tuition money to help her get into an even better college and working odd jobs to pay for his apartment now that he didn't have a roommate anymore.

Eventually Vlad and Maddie start dating after she graduates with honors, get married, and have two kids together. She's become a successful business woman while Vlad finally achieves his dream of becoming a husband and father. Problem is...he doesn't remember any of it because it all happened to a different person!

One day, Vlad wakes up in an unfamiliar house with someone nudging his shoulder, telling him the kids will be late for school if he doesn't get up. He's shocked and delighted to find out that the person in question is Maddie, his beloved college crush. That joy transforms into confusion but Vlad doesn't have time to worry about that and uses his quick wit to play along so she doesn't suspect anythings wrong. After that, for obvious reasons, Vlad tests to still see if he has his ghost powers intact and of course the answer is no. It bothers him at first, and he becomes quite a klutz himself when it comes to certain everyday things. However, apart from having a beautiful wife Vlad is also happy to discover Danny doesn't treat him like the enemy anymore. At least, no more than most teenagers do.

This gives Vlad the chance to get to know Danny as a person, not the son of his former best friend Jack. Its unfortunate neither of them have ghost powers anymore but strangely enough, just having Danny smile at him awkwardly from time to time more than makes up for it. Meanwhile Jazz is on the debate team at Casper High and his wife Maddie owns her own business while their home is, unfortunately, a bad knockoff of Fentonworks called Masterworks where he's a mechanic that mostly repairs computers and such so neither of them really keeps anything there that reminds them of how they used to research ghosts.

For the most part Vlad's new life isn't bad despite not having money to burn and it feels like Maddie's gone all the time. It gets lonely sometimes despite being married, but he makes the most of it until one day Jack suddenly shows up after years of isolation and kidnaps Jazz and Danny! Powerless to stop it himself and knowing he can't go to the police, Vlad hurries to tell Maddie during an important business meeting at her company. He can't exactly tell her how he knows about ghost powers, relying purely on their shared passion on the subject of the paranormal back in college, but to his surprise she seems unphased by the whole thing.

That means its up to Vlad to stop Jack without very good weapons and no powers to get their kids back because again, the police can't do anything against someone with ghost powers. The thing is, Maddie isn't totally wrong about Jack since he doesn't want to hurt the kids. He just wants to duke it out with Vlad because he blames him for his life being so lonely and miserable, which is ironic.

He does his best to stop Jack with a weaker version of the Plasmius Maximus that he haphazardly made out of computer parts that can only short out ghost powers for a few minutes, but unfortunately Jack's still a tank in his own right and knocks Vlad to the ground. After that, somehow Danny unties himself and his sister and once she's somewhere safe enough to call for help he runs back in and tries to shield Vlad, who is barely clinging to consciousness. As for Jack, seeing Vlad all battered and bruised he thinks this should make him feel better but it doesn't. It makes him feel worse after realizing, he just kidnapped two innocent kids to get back at someone who tried to fix things between them, yet Jack was the one who refused to let him all these years...

The last thing Vlad sees after that is Danny's tear-streaked face, pleading with him not to die and talking about all the things they wanted to do together. Things like visiting the local planetarium, stargaze some more on the rooftop, go fishing on Lake Eerie, teach him to drive a stick shift, and go to the next Packers game together. Vlad attempts to comfort his son, accidentally calling him his little badger which isn't a thing in this timeline, then everything goes dark.

Vlad wakes up in his Egyptian cotton sheets and silk pajamas, a freshly ironed suit ready and waiting for him in the closet and the smell of his favorite cologne hanging in the air. He's home. Yet, it doesn't feel like home. For the first time in years Vlad truly feels how empty and cold these halls are without the warmth of a friendly face to greet him in the morning. And even when he had a version of Maddie all to himself, she wasn't the woman he fell in love with, just a stranger who only cared about her career rather than her family.

Then Vlad remembers Danny's face in those final moments before this dream or whatever he had just experienced abruptly ended. There was so much love there, fear of losing his father, and the familiar determination of the original Danny to protect his loved ones whether he was strong enough to or not. Now, having experienced something similar himself, Vlad finally understands what that feels like. How it feels to put someone else first before anyone else.

Eventually this leads up to Vlad showing up one day in Danny's bedroom, looking around at all the little things that hint at what loves and what his hobbies are. It makes Vlad realize, he doesn't really know Danny at all. Not the boy he is anyway, just another hybrid Vlad assumed they'd instantly share a deep connection with because of their shared trauma. Of course, when Danny does finally show up he assumes Vlad's up to no good and is ready for a fight when Vlad shocks him by asking if they can just...talk. He's suspicious at first, seriously considering refusing to do anything, but there's something in Vlad's eyes he can't quite place. Almost like, for the first time, this brilliant man seemed lost.

I could go on but I think you get the idea. Phew, I'm glad I finally got this out of my system because it really had a death grip on me today lolz. Hope you enjoyed reading it! Oh and feel free to borrow this idea for fanart or your own story if it inspires you. I'd do it myself, however, in this new year of 2025 I REALLY want to try and fully complete a couple stories before writing anything new even as a short story/oneshot.

89 notes · View notes

roosterforme · 1 year ago

Text

The Intern Part 2 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Five minutes into an interview with you, and Bradley knew he was in trouble. You were attractive, funny and smart, and now the summer was stretching out before him like an obstacle course he would have to navigate carefully. At least a visit from an old friend should be enough to help him work through his frustrations.

Warnings: Language, mentions of smut and masturbation (eventually 18+)

Length: 4200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

The Intern masterlist. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner by @mak-32

When Bradley got to the Avio headquarters the following morning, he rode the elevator up to his office. He'd already eaten breakfast, gone for a long run and taken a shower, and he was still one of the first ones here. Except for Judy. He smiled when her desk came into view as he turned toward his office door. She was sweet, and it scared him a little bit how much she reminded him of his mom. She was a widow with one son in college, and Bradley would be lost without her.

"Morning," she said, handing him his mail as he walked past without her even looking up at him. "You have a very busy day, and I already turned on your coffee maker."

He really needed to give her another raise. "Thanks, Judy. Hey, what time is that interview I have?" he asked, flipping through the stack of envelopes in his hand.

Now she looked up from her computer and met his eyes. "Nine o'clock. And it's Ted's daughter."

"I know," he replied with a small smile.

"Do you really think she would be a good fit? You'll be working on the yacht for weeks, and all she has is a graduate degree and a daddy with a bankroll." She handed him your résumé with a concerned look.

He shrugged as he skimmed the page again. "She has some related work experience. She volunteered to run the finances for a handful of Philadelphia based charities every year. Her references include the Philadelphia deputy mayor. But you're right, she's pretty green. I'll take this with me," he said as he held the résumé up and headed for his door. "Let me know when she arrives."

"Will do," Judy muttered.

Bradley made himself another cup of coffee before he settled into his seat. His office had a fantastic view of the Pacific Ocean in the distance along with the Naval base at North Island where he'd spent several years working. Sometimes he missed it, other times he didn't. Flying was in his blood, but after five air-to-air kills, it seemed like he'd given up enough of his soul to the Navy. Now he was helping oversee the design of software components that would help keep aviators safer in the air.

He turned his gaze from the view outside back to your resume. Your name at the top made him smile, and the more he read about you, the more he liked. None of the other people begging him for a job in his department had the same level of academic chops or philanthropic endeavors you did. And he couldn't imagine you begging for a single damn thing, ever. He tapped his keyboard, wondering what your LinkedIn profile looked like.

Well. Your photo was gorgeous. It was professional looking without a doubt, but he knew better now that the way your smile tilted a little higher on one side meant you were about to deliver a line that would make him laugh. He wondered if you'd had the photographer smiling nonstop, too.

Bradley paused with his fingers on his keyboard, but he couldn't help it. He typed your full name into the search bar and sorted it by images. There were more headshots of you from academic articles and a few newspapers, but when he scrolled he almost spit his coffee out. There was one of you wearing that same bikini you had on yesterday. When he clicked it for more, it took him to your private instagram page.

He stared at that tiny thumbnail before he closed his eyes. Really, the way you looked wasn't why he asked you to come here today, and he'd spent a good portion of last evening trying to focus on anything other than how it felt to have your body pressed against his while he held you.

"Fuck," he grunted. He really needed to get laid. He made another mental note next to the one about Judy's raise. He would call one of his friends with benefits and get that taken care of, because if you agreed to join him for a couple months on the company yacht, he'd probably see that bikini again and again. And there was no way he could touch Ted's daughter. Not like that. Even if he wanted to.

And that thought brought him back to the main reason you would be here in the next few minutes. What kind of information could he get out of you? Bradley noticed that the profit and loss sheets from several departments didn't seem to add up. That had been the case for two quarters in a row. When he mentioned it to one of the harried looking accountants one floor down, he told Bradley they wouldn't have time to run an unnecessary audit before next quarter started.

Someone in this company was doing something shady, and Bradley wanted to know who it was and why. He'd gone over those numbers for days, double checking his math. He knew he wasn't crazy, but he didn't know who he could safely take this information to, especially when the specs on the software they were creating was considered top secret.

"Your interview is here," Judy's voice suddenly announced through his intercom.

Bradley quickly closed out of the photo of you in a bathing suit that was still on his screen and slammed his laptop shut. "Send her in."

A few seconds later, Judy was holding the door open for you, and you thanked her as you strolled in like you owned the company. Your hair was styled in some sort of clip, and you were wearing a perfectly tailored black suit. Bradley shook his head; it was rich that you called him out for his proclivity for Armani when yours was probably worth three times as much. His gaze drifted down your legs. Your black and white heels were the kinds of things he would love to have thrown over his shoulders in bed, and the bit of white silk peeking out above your jacket buttons reminded him of your skimpy pajamas.

Inviting you here was a terrible idea.

You smirked as you ran your right index finger along the charm from Tiffany's that hung from your necklace, and then you reached out to shake his hand over his desk. "Mr. Bradshaw. So lovely to see you again today." Your voice was playful, and Bradley gestured for you to take a seat while he tried his best to gather his thoughts.

"I was a little afraid you'd show up in your bathing suit," he said, and you nodded as you crossed your legs and set your leather portfolio on your lap.

"I can certainly understand the cause for that concern," you replied, not missing a beat. "However, I promise you'll see nothing but Armani suits from here on out if I end up coming to the office every day. Now what would you have me do for you all summer? Fetch your coffee? Give you the abridged version of the Wall Street Journal? Sit in on pointless meetings in the conference room across the hallway?"

"That's just it," he said, tilting his head to the side and taking in your neutral expression. He hardly knew what to do with the fact that you made him feel warm and slightly uncomfortable when you were being sassy. "We wouldn't be here at all. And actually, you could wear your bathing suit and swim half the time for all I cared."

Your eyes lit up immediately as you leaned closer to his desk. "This sounds like a trap, but please, carry on. Tell me more."

He chuckled as he moved a little closer to you as well. "I'm being tasked with taking a few weeks to a couple months on the company yacht in the Mediterranean. I have the technical knowledge as well as the access to arrange meetings with members of Avio's European sales team to close some deals. This is all top secret information, but since you've got the right connections, I'll go ahead and tell you that the US government has given us the greenlight to sell our software to a select list of countries."

You licked your lips, and Bradley could barely focus as you said, "So you'll be the one calling all the shots. And you need to have access to some of these countries to schedule meetings and dinners and cocktail parties. You'll be working from the yacht in much the same capacity you are currently working from your office, still expected to head the research department here. But you'll have the added workload of trying to answer questions and sell the software in Europe? Did I miss anything?"

Bradley's eyes went a little wide as he chuckled. "No. Not really."

You were smiling now. "This sounds like half work and half sorority party, and let me tell you, I am more than capable of making both of those things go as smoothly for you as possible."

"Yeah," he said, his voice a little raspy now. "But you'll have to put up with me. And some of these clients have been known to be a little difficult in... a variety of different ways." Bradley's mind drifted to last summer when he'd been on the yacht for a week as well as the summer before that. The wealthier a man becomes, the more he seems to think he could have whatever he wants, and Bradley had seen some wild shit. "But I'll do my best to keep you comfortable and safe. The workload will be intense, to say the least. But it'll all be happening on a one hundred and thirty foot superyacht."

You eyed him carefully. "This sounds like it was custom made for me, so you either want me or you don't, Mr. Bradshaw."

Bradley smiled, and his gaze followed your hand as you touched that pretty charm again. "Oh... I want you plenty. Something tells me yachts and Mediterranean vacations are something you simply grew up with. I'm just trying to sell myself now."

The way you laughed reminded him once again of that night in December when you asked him if he wanted to share a bottle of wine with you. "You're very persuasive, Mr. Bradshaw. I can practically smell the sunblock and taste the pasta from here." You bit your lip and considered him, and it felt to Bradley like you could see every flaw and indiscretion inside of him. "Where did you go to school anyway? Yale? Brown? No wait... you look like a Princeton boy to me."

He shook his head as he pointed to his college diploma on the wall. "I went to a state school."

You gasped, and your eyes went wide as you muttered, "Jesus," while you read it. "Political science? At the University of Virginia? Oh... you should be lying to people. I mean, at least say you went to Dartmouth."

Bradley tried and failed to hold in his laughter, because you truly looked scandalized by this turn of events. "Aww, come on, Ivy League. It's not so bad."

You sputtered with laughter, too. "Did you just call me Ivy League?"

"I sure did," he told you, still laughing. "It's about ten times nicer than what I was going to say."

Your soft gasp as your eyes positively lit up made Bradley's heart beat a little faster. "Well, what were you going to say?" you asked before biting your lip.

Shit. You were trouble, and you knew it. "Never mind. My lips are sealed. Can't say that to Ted's daughter."

You sighed and rolled your eyes. "You're no fun right now, but I'm sure as soon as I get you loosened up in some Armani swim trunks on the yacht, you'll be an absolute pleasure for me to deal with."

The way Bradley's cock was twitching should have been warning enough. He was about to get in over his head. But all he could say was, "Does that mean you want the internship?"

Your smile tilted up a little higher on the one side. "Oh, absolutely." Then you stood before him looking like the cat who got the cream, and Bradley had to hope for the best as he stood as well. He could mark this as the first time he'd ever become slightly aroused during an interview, a sign that he desperately needed to get laid.

He shook your hand and said, "We leave in a few days. Judy will help you get your visas in order. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect, Mr. Bradshaw."

The way you here still holding his hand and calling him Mr. Bradshaw left his voice barely louder than a rasp. "Judy and I will be in touch."

You turned and shot him a smile over your shoulder as you headed for his office door, and Bradley dropped back down in his chair. He'd call Callie about getting together to hook up before he left for Europe, but he had another more important call to make first. He cleared his throat as he opened his contacts and then put his phone on speaker. He was greeted with a familiar voice filled with laughter.

"Rooster! When are you going to get that yacht warmed up for me?"

Bradley just shook his head and said, "Hangman. You're not going to believe who my summer intern is."

------------------------------

You were floating on a raft in the pool wearing your second favorite bathing suit when you were greeted by the sound of your father's voice. "I sincerely hope you know what you're doing by wasting your time right now."

"Daddy," you greeted with a smile. "My day was a complete and utter success."

He checked his watch as he said, "Please, elaborate."

You had the trump card, but you knew all too well what it would be like if you didn't. Instead of lecturing you like you could tell he wanted to, he smiled when you said, "I have a job."

"Where?"

"Avio."

He nodded in appreciation as he said, "I am actually impressed right now. You managed to secure an internship at the company I've spent decades with, and you did so without me knowing anything about it. Which department?"

"Research and development," you replied smoothly.

His eyes went wider. "With Bradley Bradshaw?"

Your tummy swooped, and you sucked in a breath at the mere mention of his name. Spending weeks working with him and entertaining guests with him was going to be... well, something. "Yes. With Bradley Bradshaw."

"Sweetheart," your father said. "He had a career in the Navy."

"Yes. He was an aviator," you recalled from his Avio bio.

"That means he's not going to put up with any nonsense. You don't make him repeat himself, and you don't give him attitude. I'll know immediately if he's displeased with you, I'm sure."

Bradley didn't seem stuffy. He'd already encouraged you to pack your bathing suits. Hell, you were determined to get him to join you in some fun. "Well maybe not immediately as he and I will be on the Avio yacht in the Mediterranean."

Your father stared at you, speechless. Finally he said, "I really don't know how you managed to get exactly what you wanted, but I applaud you, Sweetheart. Well done. I know it sounds fun, but you'll be kept very busy. I hope you know what you're in for."

When he finally wandered back inside after you promised to join him for dinner, you soaked up the last few rays of the dying sunlight. Then you made a mental list of everything you needed to spend the next few days packing as you brushed up on your French and Italian. "J'adore mon travail. Amo il mio lavoro. I love my job."

--------------------------

Bradley was still chuckling as he got off the phone with Ted a few days later. Your father tried to warn him that you could be a bit of a handful. Like Bradley wasn't fully aware of that fact. As if he hadn't known since December. He could practically hear your disdain for his alma mater and your delight in international travel from his condo.

He was stacking his suits up in his extra bedroom along with several pairs of shoes, and he shook his head as he looked down at his swim trunks in his hands. They actually were all Armani, and you'd have a field day when you realized it. Or perhaps skinny dipping would become a thing?

Fuck. He needed to stop thinking about you like that. Callie Bassett was on her way over, so that should help alleviate some of this tension. He'd been friends with Halo for over a decade, and she had slowly and naturally turned into a friend with benefits over time. She was still in the Navy, and she was discreet. It was easier than having a girlfriend. It was all he had time for.

As he organized his suits, he remembered you told him he looked like a Princeton boy. He could just picture you with a parade of preppy assholes following you around, and he wondered if you ever slummed it with anyone like him before. It made him want to pack some of his casual clothes including his Virgina baseball cap and his worn out golf shorts. So he did.

Then his doorbell buzzed, and he went to let Callie in. He needed this taken care of right now. She smelled good, and she looked cute. She always did. And she wore something a little skimpy just for him. The kiss on his cheek in greeting quickly turned to her lips brushing his as she said, "I haven't seen you in weeks."

"Been busy," he replied, taking her by the hand and heading for his bedroom. "And I'm leaving for Portugal on Saturday."

"How long?" she asked, pouting a little bit as Bradley reached for the hem of her dress and eased it up and over her head in one fluid motion.

"Couple months," he whispered, taking in her soft, naked body with his gaze.

"Months?" she whined as he wrapped his hands around her waist and smirked at her.

"Don't even act like we are anything close to exclusive, Cal. Now... how do you want it?"

She licked her lips and looked up at him with those familiar dark eyes just as his phone rang in his pocket. He didn't hesitate or check the number; he never did. "Bradshaw."

"Hey, State School. I have a few questions for you."

Bradley froze with your voice in his ear and Callie's fingers on his zipper. He grunted softly as she eased it down and touched him. He just knew if he closed his eyes and listened to your voice, he'd probably finish in her hand within two minutes.

"Ivy League," he rasped, taking a step back away from Halo who was now standing before him completely naked and rolling her eyes.

"Are you busy?" you asked, and Bradley looked Halo in the eyes without remorse as he answered you.

"No. I'm not busy. I can talk." He held up one finger and zipped himself up as he left his bedroom in favor of his office. "As long as you tell me how you got this number."

You laughed as he sank down into his desk chair. "You think it's exclusive or something? Judy gave it to me. And it's probably listed on the company website."

Brat. He narrowed his eyes, adding a note to his mental list to make sure it was not listed on the company website. "What can I help you with?"

"Well, I'm packing and hoping for a little input from you."

"On Thursday night at nine?" he asked. "And don't you have a butler to help you with that?"

"Like you have anything else going on?"

Bradley thought about Callie waiting in his bedroom, but instead of ushering this call along, he asked, "What did you pack so far?"

You sighed. "Sixteen bathing suits, piles of lingerie, and sunglasses. And I'm only kind of kidding."

Fighting the urge to ask for more details, he said, "Unfortunately I can't let you wear any of that in front of potential clients. So throw in some suits and dresses."

"Some suits and dresses? You'll need to be a little bit more specific, Sir."

Sir.

That one word was echoing through his mind along with your bratty tone, and he had to take a deep breath. "Why don't you bring the suit you wore when I interviewed you? That looked good. And so did the dress you wore to your father's holiday party. The dark green one."

There was a pause before you said, "You remember what I wore to the party?"

"Yeah," he grunted, rubbing his hand over his face in frustration. "It looked nice. Pack some cocktail dresses, too."

"How many should I pack?"

"How many do you have?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

Bradley laughed. "I'm sure you know better than I do what you should wear."

You scoffed. "You're acting like you've never spent a summer on the Avio yacht before."

"I haven't," he replied easily. "Just a few days here and there. I'm sure I'll be learning things from you."

"Then you'll be learning from the best."

He bit back a groan as he said, "That's what I'm counting on. That's why I hired you."

"I won't let you down," you promised, and Bradley believed you. "I'll see you at the airport on Saturday morning. Don't forget your swim trunks."

You ended the call before he could say another word, and now he was convinced you had called him simply because you could. If he was frustrated before, it was nothing compared to the way he felt now. Spending weeks on end with Ted's daughter was supposed to help him get to the bottom of the messy business with Avio, not cause other issues to arise.

He unzipped his pants, intent on touching himself, before jolting to his feet. "Shit," he muttered as he left his office and went back to his bedroom. "Cal?" he called out. "Sorry. It was a work call." But he was completely alone. He laughed as his phone vibrated in his hand with a text from her.

Have a great time in Europe. Don't bother calling me when you get back.

Bradley was sure he'd hear about this from his old friend Natasha when Callie bitched about him at work. But it didn't really matter. After she had a few weeks to cool off, she'd come back when he needed her again. For now, he'd take matters into his own hands and hope that would be enough.

----------------------

Your father insisted upon seeing you off on Saturday morning which gave Bradley a few minutes alone with him. He was listening to Ted as he watched you struggle with your seven pieces of Dior luggage on the tarmac next to the chartered airplane.

"Bradley, you don't know what you've gotten yourself into," your father told him with a laugh. "She's tenacious though. And whip smart. Make sure you challenge her, because she will certainly challenge you."

Now Bradley laughed as he shook Ted's hand. "I'll do my best."

"If she gets to be too much, just leave her in one of the marinas with her passport."

He would never do that to you. He doubted it would ever come to that. In fact, he was already impressed by the way you took care of things for yourself. Sure, you looked like you belonged in an ad for designer gym clothes with your leggings and soft hoodie zipped over your sports bra. But you were also taking your luggage from the back of the black Mercedes-Benz G-Class yourself.

"I can assure you that she and I will be just fine, Sir."

"What have I told you about calling me Ted?" Bradley received a friendly cuff on the shoulder before shaking his hand and turning toward you.

He picked up the last two pieces of your luggage at the same time and carried them to the cargo hold while you trailed after him. "I don't need help," you told him as he stowed them away. Then you added, "You look weird out of your Armani."

"I look weird?" he asked with a laugh as he glanced down at his chinos and Oxford shirt.

"A good kind of weird. Like when you wore that Fair Isle sweater last year."

Bradley examined your pretty face, and you didn't look away. He remembered the dress you wore to Ted's holiday party, and you remembered his sweater. Right now he was wishing he'd joined you for that bottle of French wine that night, something he'd remedy on the yacht. A flood of bad decisions just waiting to happen filled his mind as he said, "Go say goodbye to your father. It's almost time to go."

"Yes, Sir," you told him with your chin held high and a smirk gracing your lips. Bradley stood at the bottom of the stairs while you flung your arms around Ted and kissed him on the cheek. Then you came strolling his way once again, and he followed you closely up the stairs as you turned back and softly said, "I'm all yours."

--------------------------

Ivy League spells trouble for Bradley, but at least he knows it. And he didn't get an ounce of relief before getting on that plane. What could possibly go wrong? Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 3

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@bradshawsbitch

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

471 notes · View notes

simp-ly-writes · 22 days ago

Text

The Jackals Companion

─────── · · A 'Day of the Jackal' (TV series) FanFic

Pairing: Charles "Jackal" Calthrop x Fem!Hacker!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: After a shocking turn of events, you and the Jackal become lovers-of-sorts and you both share a moment in one another warmth as a snowy London sets the backdrop to your hotel room.

─ · · TAGS: second person perspective used, female-pronouns used, mostly fluff, cuddling, kissing, depictions of blood, mentions of guns and violence, usage of pet-names (ex. love) swearing, light angst.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,401

─ · · A/N: thank you to @calmowl2407 for this sweet ask! sorry that it took me awhile 🫶 I hope you all enjoy :)

─────── · ·

─ · · You were a certified genius- or at least thats what your first job title while working in an a Apple store for a few years but now you were a freelance hacker and profiler; having graduated with multiple degrees in sociology, psychology, mathematics, and of course, computer science.

─ · · During the day you worked as a teaching assistant and seasonal lecturer but at night, you were known as "Robin." You loved your behind-the-scenes job, the disconnection gave you privacy yet enough money to live a plush lifestyle in reality and to do the things you loved most- teaching others.

─ · · When on one of your nightly "raids" you liked to call them you were toying with auction prices at an event, watching through the security cameras in order to pause the sale just at the right moment yet it appeared that someone had the exact same idea as you... just in a more direct approach...

Your vision snapped over to one of your other various monitors at the sight of a figure in a suit, moving outside of the outlined space for the event. You raised a brow, zooming in on pixelated face with a scoff- nobody ever invests in high quality cameras these days.

You watched as he moved through the various corridors and always knew where to face so that all the cameras did not get a clear sight of him. He walked in long purpose-filled strides, a gym-bag over his shoulder, the object inside odd in shape as you rendered a scan of it- a gun? But who's the target little assassin?

You did a quick search of the black-web, trying to find any details or contracts that had been posted in the last three months yet nothing particularly pertained to anyone attending this event. Your eyebrows furrowed, irritation growing as you couldn't find any information of why this man was here, who he was going to attack, and even who the hell this guy even was in the first place.

You tapped your finger against your desk, contemplating your next move, the clock was ticking down and with one click it would be lights out, the men posing as handlers would run with the object just as your contract requested and you would have yet another fat pay check in your lap... could finally buy that new wool coat, you thought to yourself with a smile, thats if this assassin doesn't mess with anything...

You watched as he unzipped his bag and set up his gear, sizing up for the shot, click, you giggled, leaning back in your chair as you watched through the various body cams to see the artifact successfully stolen and they made their escape. People were running around everywhere, police entering the scene as the auctioneer was lead off-stage before collapsing a bullet right between his eyes. You clapped your hands together, good shot, you praised before erasing all the security footage- leaving not a trace to be found.

CHAT ROOM OPENED: r0ob6^in* said: payment? now. A-%l^8e6x said: sent. good work. A-%l^8e6x said: next job? file.16937 r0ob6^in* said: will do.

You placed an order on that coat before turning off your screens and order in take-out before going for a shower and settling yourself into a set silk pyjamas and fluffy slippers.

─────── · ·

─ · · A knock sounded at your door as you went to go get your food and to your surprise there was a metal barrel awaiting you instead of a brown paper bag. You raised your hands, eyes wide and blinking, "uh you can have anything you want in the apartment! please don't hurt me!" you plead as they force their way into the space and... gently close the door behind themselves?

You blinked, one... twice... thrice in confusion, "sit" they ordered as you rapidly nodded your head and trotted your way to the living room and finding the nearest armchair while shaking like a leaf and whispering a prayer to whatever celestial entity would hear.

The tall man sits across from you, legs extended outwards and on to your rug. You did not dare look them in the face, instead playing with your hands with closed eyes wondering what they would do next. You felt the mans stare at the side of your head and across your body as they observed what you were wearing more closely, "look at me."

You took a second before raising your head and staring just past the top of their head, you prayed that the second of hesitation you took would not take your life as well. "Look at me," they demanded again as your eyes flashed down to... a young mans face? and an attractive face with that?

You tried not to let the shock and confusion come over your features but failed miserably once hearing him chuckle at you. "I've been... observing your talents from afar for awhile now, your little mission today was a surprise for me but I must thank you for deleting that footage... saved me frying their servers on my way out."

You nod, slowly, as you observe the suit the man wears and how put-together he looks for being a criminal breaking into your own home and threatening you with a gun that was still pointed in your direction. "You're welcome?" you say yet it comes out more like a question, you hear the safety of their gun click on as they place it back in the waistband of their pants. You lean back, slightly in your chair knowing that you most likely were not leaving this spot while under such a heavy stare... or at least not for awhile...

─────── · ·

─ · · When you said awhile back then... you would be surprised to know awhile meant more like over a year and not a day went but without you seeing "The Jackal" or Charles he told you to call him. He said he wished to have a camera on you when you reacted to his name for the first time, the way your lips pushed together like your eyebrows as you tested the name again and again on your tongue while picking and pointing at his face- he couldn't help but smile at your silly actions.

─ · · You had become the Jackals companion in some strange turn of events, always by his side or had him in your sights as you navigated him through building floor plans and got him onto planes quickly back to your house that had became a second home-base for him. You scoff shaking your head, your own damn burglar now holding the keys to your apartment to come and go as freely as he wanted but the Jackal never wanted you too far away from him, especially when he was completing large and dangerous missions like the one he was on right now... trying to assassinate a parliament member in London.

─ · · It was nearing Christmas time, a perfectly unsuspecting and joyous part of the year that would have your client easy to locate for you and for the Jackal- easy to target.

─ · · You waited anxiously for Charles to get back to the hotel room after providing him directions through local security cameras. You had ordered room service in preparation and held a half drank glass of red wine in your hand, swirling it around like your thoughts before setting the glass down and jumping off the bed, running down the hall at the sound of the door closing before jumping into his arms.

"Hello to you to, love," he teased you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as you smiled and buried your face into his cold jacket, a shiver cascading down your spine as his large hands picked you up and carried you back to beg. You giggled, wiggling your feet with excitement once feeling him throw you onto the bed. You watched from the covers as he undressed layer after layer upon himself and his face before stripping back to the Charles you knew.

"Much better," he sighed out before crawling on the bed and towards you, capturing your lips in between his own before brushing the hair out of your face. "I see you already ordered food for two?"

"Mhmm," you hum out contently before patting the seat beside you and brining him a plate as you both talk over yet another successful mission. "Speaking of which," Charles wipes his mouth with one of the serviettes before gathering both of your empty plates and putting them on the desk within the room, "we have to check if we got payed for our hard work."

You nod watching as he bends down, reaching into his bag to pick up his laptop and glasses case as you reach for your own on the nightstand. Feeling the bed drip once again you shuffle closer to his side and hear in chuckle, "clingy are we today?"

You shrug, "Its the holidays, Charles, let your girl be," you defend yourself.

"My girl-hm?" he says back, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as you look up at him through his glasses- your heart begins to race as he looks down at you, the frames slipping down his nose as you reach over to fix them for him, "thanks, love."

─────── · ·

─ · · You both work silently beside one another, double checking your finances and going over the blueprints for your next mission in Croatia... after a much needed break and beach-filled vacation you both agreed upon.

─ · · By the time you had finished your side of things, Charles was still typing away and memorizing the blueprints. You played with the material of his shirt, pressing your head to the side of the arm in a silent ask for him to give you more of his attention. "A few more minutes then I'm all yours," Charles murmurs, zooming into an air duct right above the stage.

You watched his eyes move across the dimensions, you loved picking apart every micro-expression he let flash across his features only to be gone the next moment. Catching your stare he sighed, shutting down his device and casting it to the nightstand as you placed your head in his lap feeling his fingers rake across your scalp gently- as if coaxing you to sleep.

Yet you couldn't close your eyes as you had just remembered a file that you had accessed... freely... you opened and closed your mouth, thinking about how to phrase your next words before the Jackal cut you off and you pulled your head up, "whatever you want to ask in that brilliant brain of yours- do it."

"The things is," you try and explain, failing miserably to find the right words watching as Charles's attention moves away from you, your confidence slipping before seeing a notepad and pen being presented to you. "Would it be easier to write out whats going on in here?" He clicks the pen on by shoving it against your forehead.

You glare, snatching the items away as he holds up his hands. You look between the blank page and Charles one, two, and even three times before not writing anything down. The Jackal notices you struggling, he begins to get a bit worried himself as you stand up from the bed and move away to a separate chair in the room before writing out your list of questions, hiding your face behind your knees in order to escape from his questioning stare.

"Is this... something to do with my past?" The Jackal asks, remembering the last time you acted this way a few weeks after you both formally met. You freeze solidifying his answer. "My offer still stands, whatever if is I'll answer it... if I can," he explains, watching as you sit up in the chair and look him in the eyes, "Did you... kill your platoon?"

You watch as Charles freezes before slowly reaching over to take a sip of his glass of red wine, a bead of it dripping down his chin like blood as you grip your hands together in wait. "The simple answer is yes, I did but I believe it to be in fair fashion after... they massacred a wedding."

─ · · The following story has you nauseous and partially scared as you hold yourself and don't meet his eyes that search to observe your reaction- to hear your thoughts and heart. "Come 'ere" he pats his lap before opening his arms, watching as you hesitantly stand from your chair and walk over before being pulled down into the bed and feel his strong arms wrap around your torso like a weighted blanket to soothe your anxiety.

"I hope I didn't scare you- You know I would never hurt you, love, right?" he murmurs into your shoulder before pressing a kiss to the crook of our shoulder and neck, lingering in the spot until feeling you nod your head and rest your back against his chest more comfortably, "I know. But you're different now, right? And you're my Charles... but I would also understand if you needed to kill me." You feel as the Jackal freezes, his grip tightens around you, your breath hitches before you continue to speak, "A-and If you were going to... please shoot just shoot me straight in the face... I wouldn't want to be recognized by anyone."

You close your eyes feeling as Charles slips away form behind you, the cold air of the room spreading goosebumps across your skin as a tear slips from the corner of your eye. The sudden touch of a hand bringing your chin up has you wincing, "let me see your gorgeous eyes, my love," Charles asks softly. You shake your head in his touch before feeling it strengthen, "open them, please," he asks again, this time a bit more firmly.

You slowly blink them open, watching as he tears his glasses off and cups your cheeks, rubbing the skin thoughtfully with his thumbs, "I love you," he whispers before you feel his lips against your own. You both fall backwards onto the covers, Charles holding his weight above you as you break away breathless from the kiss, "I love you too."

─────── · ·

─ · · JACKAL TAGLIST: @swiftietevitdrewjew @groovyponypatrollamp @alelo23 @apaperflowerreader

132 notes · View notes

cherryrikis · 3 months ago

Text

BETTER LUCK TOMORROW - introduction ! senior project

pairing : nishimura riki x reader

synopsis : after being in the wrong place at the wrong time, you (as well as your friends), were framed for the death of your brother and disappearance of your boyfriend. you all had no hope. no job, no money, none of you were even allowed to graduate. at least, until a stubborn kid on a dance scholarship suddenly acts as your savior, riki helps clear your name all for the sake of a school project.

this episode contains the following : 1.3k wc, brief swearing, mentions of death & mentions of murder/killing, lots of dialogue

previous | masterlist | next

“as you all know, you have a major senior project due by the end of the year for part of your college interviews. this will be worth 90% of your grade and is not optional. any questions to far?” riki’s english teacher read off the whiteboard, before turning to face the class.

she cleared her throat loudly before continuing.

“late work will not be accepted, because you have until may 25 to get this project submitted. everyone should know which college they plan on attending, or applying to by now. a google slides format must be be at least 25 slides, and a word doc should be at least 10 pages.”

jungwon quoted the teacher, explaining to riki what’s expected of them after he realized riki hadn’t been paying attention.

“how the hell did you remember all she said? and- why are you even here.. you’re like, a freshman in college.” riki noticed, with a visible look of confusion on his face.

“sophomore, actually. and i’m here for volunteer work! we have finals too you know. i was telling you and sunoo about this last week, but it’s for my social thought class!-” jungwon explained with a smile, only for it to drop as he was cut off .“yeah yeah okay. so what kind of topic am i supposed to pick?” riki asked before crumpling up a random paper into a ball, tossing it in jungwons direction.

jungwon let out a sigh. “riki, you really need to do better. if you can’t improve how you act, that impact will show on my grade as well. and that won’t be good for either of us.” he said as he took the paper ball, unfolding it to reveal riki’s report card from last quarter. it wasn’t too bad really, mainly straight a and b minuses. but the biggest issue, was behavior and participation.

“how would your grade tanking be bad on me? i still have until fall before i start going to ucla.”

“i really don’t know how you got in.” jungwon shook his head.

“dance scholarship. duh.” “nishimura riki! you have 7 more minutes to determine your main topic. i recommend that you use your time more wisely.” the teacher called out from her desk.

“okay seriously, now we have to focus. what topics are you interested in?” jungwon asked, as he pulled his notebook out.

“well, i like dancing. i can research the history on different dance styles.” riki shrugged, loosely putting an idea out there.

“that’s actually not that bad, especially as a dance major. let’s sit on that idea for a bit in case anything else comes up. what else do you like?” jungwon hummed while briefly scribbling a few notes in.

“i don’t even get why i still have to do this stupid assignment when i already heard back from ucla. if anything it’s a waste of my time, because this only benefits the kids who haven’t heard back yet.” riki complained.

“well,” jungwon chuckled. “the start of the fall semester is still a while from now, anything can change by then. they’re still gonna be looking at your final report card and all that. this is just to determine that your slot in that school is ensured. i think the you from freshman year would be proud to see you improve.”

but of course, he wasn’t listening. riki was hyper focused on his computer. at least until the last sentence stuck out to him.

“say that again?” riki questioned, making sure he heard jungwon right.

“the you from three years ago would be proud if you improved?” he repeated an improvised version, with a raised brow.

riki chewed on the bottom of his pen, before hastily writing something down on jungwon’s notebook.

“you.. you want to solve heeseung and jay’s case..?” jungwon stuttered as he read the notes. “how is this even related to what i said? is it because you were a freshman when it happened?”

“do you really believe yn was capable of killing them? i mean honestly, won. we grew up with her. she was heeseung’s little sister.” riki insisted, ignoring jungwon’s previous questions.

“i couldn’t believe it either, because there was no way it could’ve been her. but there was a lot of evidence that said otherwise.” jungwon informed, moving the notebook back onto his desk.

“also, don’t get mad when i say this. but, do you think the reason why you’ve been so fixated on yn being innocent is because you never got over your crush on her from middle school?”

“hey! shut the fuck up dude.” riki hissed, slapping the older boy on the back of his head. “and she was someone we were close to, a 17 year old at the time. it just isn’t likely.”

“age doesn’t mean anything. 35% of murders in america were committed by people ranging between 17 and 21. and, 28% of murders are committed by a relative or acquaintance. chances are low but not zero.” a girl butt in from behind the them. riki whipped his head back to see who it was, only to wish he never turned around.

minji kim. a pain in the original friend groups ass since elementary school.

the two stared at her with two completely different expressions. riki looked minji up and down with a frown, while jungwon just blinked slowly with wide eyes.

“what? do you seriously not remember me?” she scoffed.

“no trust me, we do, minji.” riki huffed before turning back around.

“we’re just wondering how you know that, is all.” jungwon hummed.

“my brother is a police officer now. i’m sure if you didn’t know who he was, one of your other friends might.” she snickered.

minjae kim. he is minji’s brother and one of the officers who handled the heeseung-jay case, aka one of the officers responsible for the arrests of yn and a few others. riki would know, because he attended the court hearing.

“minji, what topic have you selected?” the teacher asked as she briefly looked up from the computer screen.

“i will be making a slideshow on the history of ballet.” she answered with a proud smile. oh how riki just wanted to wipe that look off her face.

“and.. finally. riki and jungwon?”

"me and jungwon will investigate the lee siblings case, from 3 years ago." and the teachers face fell.

"riki, i don't know if this is a good topic write on. you still have time to change your mind-"

"no. this is what i want to do. i want to solve the murder of heeseung lee, and the disappearance of jay park." riki cut off the teacher with determination.

and the class went silent.

"there's nothing to solve! yn lee killed her own brother, and her own boyfriend. case closed." minji said. but remember, her brother was one of the officers who testified against yn. of course, her opinion on the topic was just as biased as riki’s or jungwon’s could be.

"shut up minji, your brother got demoted for a reason. and, you didn't know yn." jungwon waved off.

"you may have known heeseung but that doesn't mean you know her. and i know enough about yn lee to see that shes a cold hearted killer." "enough!" the teacher interrupted.

"fine. riki and jungwon, you may pursue this case. but we have to set some boundaries. first off, you may use any public sources or personal connections. secondly, when contacting any sources like publishers or officers, do not push the limit. if they say certain answers to questions are confidential, then respect that. third and foremost, absolutely do NOT contact the lees or the parks. leave any involved families out of this, especially now that miss yn lee is out of juvie."

she teacher sighed in slight relief as she saw jungwon and riki nodding in agreement.

but what she didn’t see, was how their fingers were crossed behind their backs.

taglist ! @jiiyen @prettiestgirlontheplanet @hannicorpse @wonsboo @murazbae @stilesks @soobinbunnie5 @blvengene @r1kification @gyuvision @goldenmellow @ariluvssssss100 @who-tf-soddhi @mmurazz @jaemified @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @heartheejake @hoonsdrnkdzd

not proofread

#k-films #en-diaries #enhypen x reader #enhypen #niki smau #niki x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen smau #enhypen scenarios #enhypen niki #nishimura riki #riki x reader

76 notes · View notes

halfrican-heat · 1 year ago

Text

Upstanding Gentleman (Ony)

Onyankopon was raised in a strict Ghanian household. He was pretty strait-laced...until he met you, of course. Still, Ony has many tricks up his sleeve that never fail to surprise you.

A/N: Yes, I'm high. Hello. So, this is the second Ony post I've had lingering in the back of my mind. It's in head cannon format but I think this could be something. Enjoy!

Warning(s): Explicit Sexual Content; Depictions of smoking marijuana; Penetrative Sex (p in v), Oral Sex (M receiving), Sex in childhood home, Black reader in mind, N-Word used; AAVE/Dialogue with Dialect

Pairing: Sober!Onyankopon x Stoner!Reader

Inspired by: Lauryn Hill and my bf :)

Sober!Ony was raised by a single mother who kept him in line. No drugs, no alcohol and he definitely had a curfew.

Straight A student and graduated the top of his class in high school

Spent majority of his childhood playing video games and taking apart old computers his mother would bring home from her teaching job.

Played basketball and practiced frequently with his friends

Loved taking photos and drawing

Only smoked weed once when he was seventeen and felt guilty about it for a week before he told his mom. (She smacked his head but wasn't that mad)

Never had a thing for drinking. His mom let him have some wine during his graduation dinner. His uncle, later that evening, gave him some liquor. Ony wasn't a fan.

Sober!Ony who went to college in a different state-- hours away from his mother.

He chose to go to a school pretty far away from home to study photography. He loved his mom but he felt like he needed a firm separation from his home life and college life.

That's where he met you. This sweet little thing from a town he had never heard of. So cute...

...and yet you smelled like trouble. Ony's suspicions were confirmed when you offered him a blunt in your car one night. Y'all had been talking for a minute at that point but you never gave off stoner vibes.

Ony declined but didn't mind hanging out as long as you rolled the windows down.

Turns out, you were a huge stoner. Bongs, smoking pieces, a stash larger than some of the ones he had seen back home. You weren't a plug, not really, you just really loved weed. You were super smart, too. Ony had known people like you from back home-- motivated stoners who smoked frequently but it didn't impede them getting shit done. You were like that and Ony really liked that about you.

Ony wasn't sure how to proceed at first but...one thing was sure: You had a hold on Onyankopon that he just couldn't deny.

Sober!Ony who, four years into your relationship, isn't super sober anymore.

"Mama, let me get one of them fruity drinks out the fridge." "They got alcohol in 'em Ony," You call from the kitchen. "I ain't ask you all that. They taste alright-- I feel like a classy nigga drinking them." "Okay, Classy Nigga," You say, bringing him one. "Mister Classy Nigga to you," He says, with a wide grin. "Pinkies out, baby."

Sober!Ony who branched out after meeting you but didn't partake as frequently as you did.

"Let me get a hit, baby." "Nigga, you don't smoke!" Ony kisses his teeth, side-eyeing you. "Then do that shit where you kiss me and blow the smoke in my mouth." You laugh loudly, throwing your head back at his nerve. "Okay, baby," You say, sparking up. Afterwards "Shit, where my inhaler at?"

Sober!Ony who made a great impression on your parents. Perhaps too great.

Your dad loves him, speaking highly of him every time your boyfriend comes up in conversation. "That Ony is a fine, upstanding gentleman," Your dad alway says. Little does he know... "What's that, ma?" His voice is husky in your ear as he thrusts into you roughly. His hand is over your mouth as your childhood mattress squeaks under your weight. Ony has you bent over, his pace punishing as he fucks you from behind. Tears streak your face as you helplessly claw at your sheets "Better be quiet," Ony drawls. "Don't want your folks to hear us, right? Or they gonna know what a slut you are for this upstanding gentleman."

Sober!Ony who loves the way you give head while high.

After many extensive and deep discussions about consent, Ony finally lets you give him head. At first, he was chilling. But then... "Shit, baby! Fuck," He groans, his head falling back. "Slow down, ma." You got his cum on your cheek from the first time he came but you don't care. You don't let up, taking his length down your throat. You suck the entire way down, slurping as you pull back to swirl your tongue around his leaking tip. Your tongue runs along the vein underneath his shaft before taking him back in your mouth, hollowing you cheeks as you slurp him down. "Fuck," He hisses, throwing his arm over his face. You had that man's toes curling and all.

Sober!Ony who loves how sexy you are at any given time of any given day but especially loves when you're feeling yourself while off the za.

Now the skies could fall...not even if my boss should call... Your hips sway seductively to the music as you take a pull from the blunt, in your own world. Lauryn Hill blasts from the radio as your lights change colors in a slow fade. Ony stands at the door of your shared bedroom, watching you sing and dance. You turn slowly, finally noticing him. You wordlessly hold out a hand to him with your body still moving to the music. See I don't need the alcohol...your love make me feel 10 feet tall... He takes your hand, pulling your body close to his. His hands trail your body, finding your ass as the two of you grind on one another. Yeah, Ony is gonna take his time with you tonight.

Sober!Ony who loves you as much as you love him despite your differences.

"Papa, you seen my bong?" "Judie?" "No, the other one." "She in the kitchen cabinet, baby."

"Ma, you seen my screwdriver?" "The fuck you doing drinking those?" "Bae...the tool. My tool." "Oh, it's on the counter by the microwave." a moment later "Onyankopon, what the fuck did you do to my damn radio!"

Overall, Sober!Ony who has changed a lot since the two of you got together. As long as you don't give him any cause for concern, he's happy to let you do as you please (and partake when he feels like it). You level each other up in ways no one expected. You're his lady and Ony doesn't want any one else but you.

"C'mere, my lil pothead," He says, cuddling up to you in bed. "Shut up, nigga." "Watch your mouth. Now lemme rub my legs against yours..."

A/N: I had fun with this. Asks are open!

#Onyankopon x reader #Onyankopon x black!reader #aot x black reader #aot onyankopon #onyankopon smut #Onyankopon fic #reader insert #black!reader insert #fan fiction for black women #black reader #Lyv Writes #My Writing #Ony's Observatory #Lyv's Library #Sober!Ony

794 notes · View notes

kayewrite · 4 months ago

Text

How can i move on?

minho x reader x jisung!! han jisung x fem.reader x minho!! fluff and angst! word count: 3.5k

summary: How do you move on from your ex who hurt you? Jisung knows, but it seems you have another way.

an: this just enters my imaginary senses that i have to write it. enjoy btw. this is oneshot guys

“How are you?

Are you getting what you deserve?

You deserve love…

Love that will break you

Like how you broke mine!

You piece of—"

Your hands shook as you stared at the angry words on the screen of your computer, your heart pounding in your chest. The unfinished message to your ex-boyfriend, Minho, burned into your eyes. It felt good to type it, to imagine how he would react if he read it. But deep down, you knew you wouldn’t send it. You couldn’t.

Because even after all that he did… you still loved him.

“Ugh! You’re such an idiot!” you groaned, slamming your head down on your desk. How could you still have feelings for him, after everything he put you through?

But you had to get over it. You were determined to move on.

That is… until you found out Minho was now working in the same office as you.

Of all the places, why here? Why in your carefully built world, the one you’d managed to keep free from the wreckage of your relationship?

You clenched your fists, staring across the room as Minho moved effortlessly through the office, chatting with a couple of coworkers. His smile—that damn smile—was still the same, as if nothing had changed. As if your heart hadn’t shattered.

How could he look so unaffected? Did he not feel anything?

You quickly averted your gaze when his eyes met yours, the familiar smirk spreading across his face. It made your blood boil. You hated him, hated the way he made you feel so small and foolish. And the worst part? You hated how much you still cared.

You were done. Done with his games, his charm, his casual disregard for the pain he caused.

Done.

“Ready to leave already?” a voice interrupted your spiraling thoughts. You blinked and turned, realizing your coworker Jisung was standing beside your desk, his eyes twinkling with curiosity.

You hadn’t even noticed that you had started packing your things.

“No,” you lied, dropping your bag and sitting back down. “Just… organizing.”

“Uh-huh,” Jisung said, his tone playful but knowing. He had been working next to you for a year, long enough to recognize when you were hiding something. “So, what’s the deal with you and the new guy?”

You stiffened, your eyes instinctively darting back to Minho, who was now stirring his coffee at the pantry. His eyes flickered toward you again, and that damn smirk appeared, as if he could sense the tension building inside you.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you muttered, returning your attention to your computer screen.

“Sure.” Jisung laughed softly, but it wasn’t a mocking laugh. He could see right through you. “You always glare at people like that, right?”

Your cheeks heated as you turned to face him. “What do you mean by that?”

Jisung chuckled again, but his tone softened. “I’m just saying… If looks could kill, Minho would be in the hospital by now.”

Your lips twitched, but you fought back the smile. Jisung had always known how to defuse your temper, but you didn’t want to admit that he was right.

“You’re imagining things,” you muttered.

“Mhm,” he said, clearly unconvinced but too kind to press further. “Well, whatever it is… you should probably be careful. The last thing you need is for him to know he’s getting to you.”

You glanced at Jisung, surprised at his perceptiveness. He was right, of course. But it was easier said than done.

Minho had been your boyfriend for three years. Three long years where you thought you’d spend the rest of your life together. You had plans. You’d graduate, find your dream jobs, buy a place together, maybe get married one day… have kids, one girl who looks like you and one boy who looks also like you because that's what he wanted. It was everything you wanted and promised.

And then… he broke your heart. One stupid mistake, and everything you’d built came crumbling down. You couldn’t forgive him. Not after the betrayal.

Yet, here you were, still trying to make sense of the emotions swirling inside you as you watched him now—calm, collected, and completely unfazed.

As if on cue, Minho approached your desk, holding a piece of paper. You felt a jolt of something deep inside—anger, hurt, and maybe a twinge of something more—something you hated yourself for feeling.

“Ms. Kim wanted you to do this,” Minho said casually, placing the paper on your desk. His voice was smooth, professional, but there was something in the way he looked at you. Like he was testing the waters, seeing how much he could push you.

You didn’t bother looking at him, simply nodding as you picked up the paper. “Okay.”

You kept your eyes on your computer, focusing on the task in front of you. But you could feel him still standing there, lingering. Waiting for… what? A reaction? An acknowledgment?

You refused to give him that satisfaction.

“Have you eaten yet?” he asked suddenly, his voice softer now.

Your stomach twisted. He had asked you that so many times before, back when things were… different. When he cared.

Or when you thought he cared.

You didn’t answer, hoping he’d just walk away. But he stayed, his presence hovering over you like a storm cloud.

“Hey, you should eat this,” Jisung’s voice broke through the tension like a ray of sunshine. He appeared out of nowhere, placing a lunch box in front of you with a proud smile. “I know you haven’t eaten yet.”

“Thanks,” you said, forcing a smile. Relief washed over you as you took the box from him, grateful for the distraction.

Jisung turned to Minho, his smile widening. “Oh, hey! I didn’t realize you were here.” He extended his hand toward him. “I’m Jisung, by the way.”

Minho hesitated for a split second before shaking his hand. His expression was unreadable as he nodded but offered no introduction in return.

Jisung didn’t seem to mind. He flashed Minho a friendly smile before turning his attention back to you. “Enjoy your lunch.”

Minho stood there for another moment, his eyes flicking between you and Jisung before he finally turned and walked away.

The second he was gone, you let out a long breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Jisung shook his head and sat down next to you. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing,” you muttered, still feeling the weight of Minho’s presence lingering in the air. “He just asked if I’d eaten.”

Jisung raised an eyebrow. “And you didn’t answer?”

“Of course not,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Good.” Jisung patted your head affectionately. “You need to stay strong. Don’t let him get to you. If you ever need help moving on, you know I’ve got your back.”

You stared at Jisung for a moment, his offer unexpectedly lifting your spirits. “How?”

Jisung smirked, leaning in closer. “Oh, I’ve got my ways.”

It was another day for lunch break, and you were sitting in the cafeteria with Jisung, absentmindedly picking at your food. Your mind was elsewhere, swirling with thoughts of Minho. Ever since the news that he’d be attending tonight's team celebration, you hadn’t been able to focus.

“You look like you’re about to throw up,” Jisung commented, shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth as he watched your expression closely. “You sure you’re okay?”

You sighed heavily, dropping your fork onto your plate. “It’s just… Minho,” you admitted, voice tinged with frustration. “I don’t know if I can handle seeing him tonight.”

Jisung’s brow furrowed, his chopsticks pausing mid-air. “You knew he’d be there. This isn’t new information."

“I know, I know,” you said quickly, “but every time I think about facing him, I just—” Your voice cracked, betraying your emotions. You hated how easily the mere thought of Minho affected you.

Jisung rolled his eyes, putting his chopsticks down with a soft clink. “Listen to me,” he said, leaning forward, his voice serious. “You need to show him that you’ve moved on. No more pining, no more sad looks. You need to act like you’re perfectly fine, like he doesn’t even exist in your world anymore.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Easier said than done.”

“I’m serious, " Jisung insisted, his gaze unwavering. “If you let him see that he still has an effect on you, you’ll never be able to move forward. You’ve got to play it cool. Laugh, smile, act normal. Show him you’re better off now.”

You bit your lip, the knot in your stomach tightening. Jisung made it sound so simple, but the thought of pretending like everything was fine when you were still hurting seemed impossible.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” you admitted, your voice small.

Jisung sighed, but his expression softened. “I know it’s hard, but trust me. If you show him that you’ve moved on, it’ll hurt him more than any words you could say.”

You glanced up at him, doubt lingering in your eyes. “And what if I haven’t moved on?”

There was a pause, the weight of your words settling between you both.

Jisung looked away for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. When he looked back at you, there was a flicker of pain in his eyes, but he covered it quickly with a reassuring smile. “Then fake it till you make it. Eventually, you’ll get there.”

You let out a heavy sigh, staring down at your untouched food. Jisung’s words rang true, but pretending to be unaffected by Minho felt like lying to yourself. Still, he was right. You couldn’t keep letting Minho control your emotions.

“Fine,” you muttered, pushing your plate away. “I’ll act normal. But if this goes wrong, I’m blaming you.”

Jisung grinned, his playful side coming through as he nudged your shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.”

Tonight was a team celebration.

The department head insisted on treating everyone to drinks. Normally, you would have declined, but when Jisung nudged you with a reassuring smile, saying he’d take care of you, it was impossible to say no. Your friends chimed in, encouraging you to join. You didn’t really have a choice.

As the night wore on, you found yourself getting drunk—drunker than you anticipated. The alcohol wasn’t strong enough to numb the ache you felt after seeing Minho again, though. Each glance in his direction reminded you of the past.

Jisung, who sat beside you, silently observed the way your expression shifted whenever Minho laughed or cracked a joke with your other female co-workers. You told yourself not to care, but it stung anyway, the memories too fresh. You couldn’t let him see that he still affected you, that you were still tethered to him by emotions you wished you could bury.

But as the alcohol coursed through your veins, your emotions began building up, dangerously close to overflowing. You fought the tears stinging your eyes.

Before a tear could slip, Jisung was on his feet. “I think it’s time for us to head out,” he announced to the group, his hand resting protectively on your shoulder.

You wanted to protest, but the words didn’t come. Jisung’s arm wrapped around you firmly as he led you outside, and once you were away from the loud chatter and clinking glasses, he finally let go.

The silence between you both was heavy. Without a word, he let you cry.

“I still love him,” you confessed, your voice trembling.

Jisung inhaled deeply, his gaze soft but filled with pain as he let you spill your heart out.

“Even after everything he’s done… I still love him,” you cried louder, your knees threatening to buckle under the weight of it all.

Jisung guided you to his car, gently supporting you while you vented, calling Minho a jerk, but then confessing how you still remembered the way he loved you—the way you loved each other.

“You know…” you said between sobs, “there was this one time, he rented out my favorite park for our anniversary. There were flowers everywhere, and in the center… there was this table. It was one of the most memorable moments of my life…”

Your voice trailed off, the memory twisting the knife deeper into your heart.

“I thought… I thought he was the one. I thought we’d get married, that we’d be together forever,” you said, and the fresh wave of tears spilled over as Jisung opened the passenger door for you. He guided you into the seat, gently fastening your seatbelt.

Before he could move away, you reached up, cupping his cheeks, holding him in place. His eyes widened in shock, unsure of what you were about to do.

“I wish… I wish I had fallen in love with you,” you whispered, voice raw with regret.

For a moment, you both just stared at each other. The world around you seemed to slow down, the weight of your words hanging in the air.

Jisung whispers your name, his voice cracking slightly.

Before he could finish, you closed the distance between you and kissed him. It was soft, hesitant at first, but the pain in your heart surged forward, and you kissed him harder, trying to drown out the lingering feelings for Minho.

Jisung froze for a split second, caught off guard by your actions. Then, he closed his eyes, kissing you back, but there was a hesitation in the way his lips moved against yours. His hands hovered near your shoulders, unsure whether to hold you or push you away.

It had become a pattern—getting drunk, crying over Minho, and kissing Jisung in the process, that end up you making out in his car. Jisung knew about Minho -- from the start, he

knew how much he still haunted you, and now, after seeing Minho in person, a deep fear settled within him.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless. His eyes, still wide, searched yours for an explanation, for something to hold onto.

“Every time…” Jisung whispered, his voice trembling. “Every time you kiss me… I know it’s not really me you’re thinking about.”

The honesty in his words stung.

“I’m sorry, Jisung,” you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes again. “I wish it was you…”

“I know,” he replied softly, his thumb brushing away the tears on your cheek. “But it’s not. And it never will be, will it?”

You didn’t have the heart to answer him, so you simply leaned your head against the car seat, eyes closing in exhaustion. The drive back was silent, the tension between you and Jisung suffocating.

The next morning came, and you were running late to work. The events of the previous night flooded your mind—crying over Minho, kissing Jisung. Shame twisted in your chest, but you tried to brush it off. Being late once wouldn’t hurt.

You hurried towards the elevator when suddenly, a hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you back.

“Let’s talk,” Minho’s deep voice commanded, sending chills down your spine.

“Let me go,” you protested, trying to pull away, but he was too strong. He dragged you to the emergency exit, closing the door behind you. The sudden isolation made your heart race.

Now you were alone with him—again.

“We don’t need to talk,” you snapped, trying to walk towards the door, but Minho’s arm slammed against the wall beside you, blocking your path.

“We. Need. To.” His voice was calm but forceful, his eyes dark as they bore into yours.

“Minho…” Your voice wavered, all the anger you wanted to hurl at him caught in your throat. You weren’t ready for this.

But Minho wasn’t going to let you escape.

“Do you still love me?” he asked bluntly, his eyes never leaving yours.

You stared at him, your lips trembling. You wanted to say no. You wanted to lie, to tell him he meant nothing to you anymore. But the truth was lodged in your throat, refusing to let you speak.

Minho’s gaze softened, a hint of sadness slipping through his cold exterior. “I know you still love me,” he whispered. “I can feel it. I still have an impact on you.”

His words snapped you out of your trance, anger bubbling up. The audacity.

You laughed bitterly. “How can you say that after everything you’ve done to me? After leaving me in the dark, after breaking me?”

Minho flinched but didn’t move. “Because I know you. And I know you can’t forget me.”

Your laugh turned hollow. “And if it’s true? What then, Minho?” you spat. “What does it matter?”

“If it’s true,” Minho stepped closer, his breath fanning your face, “then we should get back together.”

You stared at him in disbelief, laughter spilling out as tears blurred your vision. “Just like that? After everything?”

“I…” Minho faltered, his confidence wavering. “I didn’t cheat on you.”

“Liar!” You pushed him back, fury spilling out. “I saw you with her. You kissed my best friend.”

“I was drunk,” he muttered, his voice low with shame.

“Being drunk doesn’t excuse it!” you screamed, your voice cracking. “You still knew what you were doing.”

“I didn’t know… I didn’t realize it,” Minho insisted, his hands gripping your shoulders, eyes pleading. “I didn't know it would happen.”

“You’re lying, Minho. If it wasn’t true, you should’ve explained it then. But you didn’t. You just left.”

Minho’s eyes dropped, unable to meet your gaze anymore. “I…” His words failed him. Minho has a lot to tell but then he was now the one who can't talk.

“I wish I never saw you again,” you whispered, tears falling freely now. With that, you pushed past him and left the stairwell, slamming the door behind you.

Instead of going to your office, you headed straight for the exit. You couldn’t stay here. Not anymore. Not after this.

As you stepped outside, a familiar figure approached you—Jisung. He didn’t need to ask what happened. One look at your face told him everything.

Wordlessly, he guided you to his car, letting you cry in the passenger seat. The only sound in the car was your quiet sobs.

“I can’t do this anymore, Jisung,” you whispered after a long stretch of silence. “I can’t stay here. I need to leave. I need peace.”

Jisung’s heart clenched at your words, but he simply nodded, his voice soft. “I’ll come with you.”

You shook your head, tears slipping down your cheeks. “No. I can’t drag you into this. I can’t keep hurting you.”

“You’re not a burden to me,” Jisung said, his voice raw with emotion. “I love you. I would do anything for you.”

You already knew he loved you, but hearing it still took you by surprise.

“If my heart was ready… I would choose you,” you whispered. “But right now… it’s too tired. It’s too hurt. I can’t just forget Minho and love you. I wish I could, but…”

Jisung nodded, understanding the weight of your words. “I’ll wait,” he whispered. “For as long as you need.”

You stood in the middle of the bustling airport, your suitcase by your side and your heart heavy with the weight of everything you were leaving behind. The noise of travelers passing by, announcements over the intercom, and the occasional laughter from nearby families faded into the background as your thoughts consumed you.

The sunglasses you wore hid the emotions you were trying so hard to suppress. You glanced around the busy terminal, trying to remind yourself why you were here, why you made this decision. You needed peace. You needed to be far away from Minho, from the memories, from everything that hurt. This was your chance to start over, somewhere no one knew your name or your past.

You took a deep breath, your hands tightening around the handle of your suitcase. You could do this. You had to. For your own sanity, for your heart. It was the best way to move on.

an: sdjahdj

102 notes · View notes