#interview questions for teaching assistant

[iubians]

Top 50+ interview questions for teaching assistant

Discover 50+ commonly asked interview questions for Teaching Assistant role and how to answer them effectively. Ready to Prepare for your educational assistant interview questions and Get Success & secure your dream Post? 50+ commonly asked interview questions for Teaching Assistant Here are some Most Imported TA interview questions Let’s Start Preparation All These Helpful Most Important…

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Engines and Affections

Pairing: Poly 141 x Assistant!reader

AU: Mechanic 141

Warning: fluff, the boys are a bit touchy

Authors note: I hope yall enjoy, it’s not poly until about half way through. I had to change a lot of this because it was similar to someone’s post that they posted so this is the newer one

Word Count: 2.2k

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

The air at Price’s Auto Garage buzzed with the sound of engines and tools, the usual symphony of work that set the place alive each day. Price, Soap, Gaz, and Ghost moved around the garage with quiet confidence, focused on their tasks. They were the best at what they did, hands skilled and practiced, but the front desk? It was a mess. Calls went unanswered, invoices piled up, and the schedule was a puzzle no one had time to piece together. Price finally decided they needed help at the front.

The moment you walked in for the interview, they noticed.

You stood in the doorway, posture relaxed, radiating a confident smile as you scanned the space. Even though garages weren't exactly familiar territory, you weren’t about to let that show. Price gave you a welcoming nod, gesturing you inside, while Soap looked you over with a smirk, already leaning against a toolbox. Gaz offered a warm smile, while Ghost stood off to the side, arms crossed, as unreadable as ever.

Price glanced through your resume with a quick nod, but it was clear they’d made up their minds as soon as you walked in. A few questions later, and the job was yours.

It wasn’t long before you found yourself in the midst of the garage’s organized chaos. The phone rang constantly, schedules made only partial sense, and sometimes, the invoices looked like a language of their own. You tried your best to keep up, but this was a whole new world.

“Ah, I think… these are for you?” You handed Price a stack of papers one morning, hesitating when his eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“Love, these are last week’s invoices.” Price held back a chuckle, his eyes kind even as he gently corrected you. “I’ll show you how we sort ’em out, alright?”

His large hands guided yours through the stacks, showing you the little tricks they used to keep things organized. He took his time, explaining everything patiently, his voice low and calm as he brushed your shoulder every now and then. By the end of it, you had a better grasp—sort of.

Soap, however, took a different approach. Every few hours, he’d call you over, pulling you away from your desk to check out whatever project he was working on.

“Oi, lass, come look at this,” he called out one afternoon, grinning as he waved you over to the car he was working on.

You tried to seem interested, leaning in as he explained the engine in detail, even though the terms were lost on you. Your confidence started slipping as he talked about pistons, valves, and all kinds of parts you’d never heard of, but you nodded along, pretending to understand.

“See this part here?” He pointed, smirking as you leaned in closer, glancing from him to the engine.

“Oh, yeah! The… thing,” you managed, biting back a laugh when he rolled his eyes, grinning even wider.

“You’ve no idea what I’m on about, do ya?” He chuckled, nudging you playfully with his elbow. “Don’t worry, lass, I’ll teach ya everything I know. Might just take a bit.”

Despite your confusion, his excitement was infectious, and you found yourself laughing along, even if you still didn’t understand a word.

Gaz was the one who always made sure you felt comfortable, sensing when you were a bit overwhelmed. Every morning, he’d bring you a coffee, setting it on your desk with a small smile.

“To keep you sharp,” he said with a wink, and you’d thank him, feeling a little less lost in the unfamiliar world of auto repairs.

One afternoon, as you struggled with the printer again, Gaz appeared by your side. He’d noticed your mounting frustration and stepped in without a word, reaching over to press a few buttons with expert ease.

“Here, let me show you.” His hand rested on yours as he guided you through the steps, his voice soft and patient. You felt his presence close beside you, his attention entirely on helping you, and your nerves calmed as you finally figured out the tricky machine.

“You’re getting it,” he said with an approving nod, his fingers brushing yours for a moment longer before he stepped back, a quiet sense of pride in his smile.

Ghost, meanwhile, kept his distance—until you made a mistake too big for him to ignore. One evening, you’d accidentally given the wrong keys to a customer, causing a brief mix-up in the garage. Ghost’s expression was steely as he came over to you, clearly unimpressed.

“These keys belong to the truck in the back,” he said, his tone gruff but calm as he held them out to you.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just—” You stammered, caught off guard by the intensity in his gaze.

He took a slow breath, running a hand over his face before meeting your eyes again. “Just double-check before you hand ’em out next time, alright?”

You nodded, cheeks flushed, but Ghost’s expression softened almost imperceptibly when he noticed your nervousness. Later, he quietly came over, placing the keys in their correct spots while you watched, making sure you’d gotten it right.

“Just remember,” he said, his voice low, “no rush. Take your time.” And with a small nod, he returned to his work, his rare show of patience lingering with you.

---

One rainy evening, as you prepared to leave, you stood by the door, staring at the downpour. You’d forgotten your jacket, and with the way the rain was coming down, you’d be soaked in minutes.

Ghost was passing by, his eyes flicking between you and the rain outside. He let out a sigh, already pulling out his keys. “Come on. I’ll drive you.”

Surprised, you followed him to his truck, slipping into the passenger seat as he climbed in. The ride was quiet but comfortable, the steady rhythm of the rain filling the silence. His presence was somehow reassuring, and you found yourself relaxing, even sneaking a few glances at him as he drove.

“Thanks for this,” you murmured as he pulled up to your place, his gaze still fixed forward.

He gave a small nod, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just get yourself a jacket next time.” But the corners of his mouth turned up slightly, and you knew he didn’t mind.

After that night, you’d started to find your rhythm in the garage. The guys were quick to help when you needed it, and slowly, you felt like part of the team. The way they each looked out for you in their own way brought you a quiet sense of belonging that you hadn’t expected, making the unfamiliar chaos of the garage feel like somewhere you could finally call home.

——

Over the next few months, the garage became more than just a workplace—it became a second home. The guys were always there, whether to lend a hand, share a laugh, or tease you about some new mistake. You noticed how each of them had their own way of making sure you were taken care of. And somewhere along the way, your small, shared moments with each of them started to feel… different.

Price became more attentive, stopping by your desk to chat with you about your day, his warm gaze lingering a moment too long. Soap’s teasing got softer, almost affectionate, his laughs filled with genuine happiness when he saw you smile. Gaz made a habit of bringing you coffee every morning, but now he’d stay a little longer, brushing your hand as he passed the cup, his gaze lingering on your lips. Even Ghost, usually distant, had become gentler, staying around the garage a little longer just to make sure you got home safe.

The four men started to notice each other’s shifts in behavior too. What was once harmless camaraderie and teamwork started to feel like an unspoken rivalry, each of them vying for more of your attention. Eventually, it reached a tipping point, and one late night at the garage, they decided to address it head-on.

“Alright, lads,” Price began, crossing his arms as he looked at the others. “It’s about her, isn’t it?”

Soap scoffed, trying to brush it off. “You mean the way you get all soft whenever she’s around?” he said, though there was no real bite to his tone.

Gaz chuckled, running a hand over the back of his neck. “We all know it’s not just Price. Let’s be honest with ourselves here.”

Ghost, silent as ever, watched the others, his gaze thoughtful. “You’re not wrong,” he admitted, his voice low but steady. “Guess we’ve all got feelings for her. Question is, what’re we gonna do about it?”

They sat in silence for a moment, each processing the quiet admission that their feelings ran deeper than simple friendship. Price broke the silence, his voice firm yet understanding.

“We’re not just co-workers; we’re a team,” he said. “So, if we’re all on the same page about her, then maybe it’s time we tell her.”

A few days later, the four of them gathered the courage to bring up the subject with you. It was the end of a long workday, and you were about to head home when Price called you over, his tone uncharacteristically serious.

As you walked into the main garage, the four of them stood there, exchanging glances as if silently confirming that this was the right moment. You felt your heart race, sensing that whatever was about to happen was important.

Price cleared his throat, his usual steady demeanor softening as he looked at you. “We, uh… have something we need to talk to you about. All of us.”

Confused, you looked between them, giving a small nod. “Okay, I’m listening.”

They each took turns explaining, their words stumbling a little at first but then gaining confidence as they shared their feelings. Price told you how much he admired your kindness and resilience, how you made the garage feel like home. Soap shared how much he loved making you laugh, how your presence was the highlight of his day. Gaz spoke of his protective instincts, how he felt compelled to make you happy. Even Ghost, usually guarded, admitted in his own quiet way that he’d come to care about you deeply.

It was overwhelming but touching, hearing each of them express feelings that you hadn’t dared to think might be mutual. Finally, Price looked at you, his eyes searching yours with a question that didn’t need words.

“Would you be open to… to something with all of us?” he asked gently.

It took a moment for you to process what they were asking, but as you looked at each of them, you realized that the idea didn’t scare you—in fact, it felt right.

“I… I would be,” you admitted, smiling as their tense expressions melted into ones of relief and happiness.

From that point on, your relationships with them grew deeper and more intimate. You shared quiet mornings with Gaz, who’d bring you coffee and pull you close, his arm around you as you eased into the day together. Soap’s playful teasing turned more flirtatious, his laughter warm as he’d brush your hair back, stealing little kisses when no one was looking. Price had a way of grounding you, his strong arms always there to wrap around you at the end of a long day, pressing soft, lingering kisses to your forehead that made you feel safe. And Ghost, though still reserved, became more open, offering a gentle touch here and there, his presence comforting in a way that words couldn’t quite describe.

One evening, after closing up shop, you found yourself nestled between them on the worn leather couch in the break room. Gaz leaned close, his hand tracing gentle patterns on your back, while Soap’s arm draped across your shoulders, pulling you close as he whispered jokes in your ear, his voice warm and soft. Price sat at your side, his hand resting on your knee, thumb drawing small circles as he met your gaze with a soft smile, his eyes filled with a quiet understanding.

And Ghost, ever the silent observer, brushed a gentle hand over your shoulder, his fingers lingering at your neck. You felt their affection surrounding you, each of them bringing their own unique warmth and comfort, and you knew that this—this closeness, this shared connection—was something rare, something to be cherished.

Over time, your moments together grew more intimate. The nights you spent with them were full of whispered words and gentle touches, each one of them showing their love in their own way. Soap’s playful nature softened, his teasing replaced with gentle affection as he held you close, his laughter quiet as he stroked your hair. Gaz would pull you into his lap, his hands warm against your back as he kissed you deeply, his eyes filled with warmth as he traced his thumb over your cheek. Price, always steady, would hold you close, his presence reassuring as he kissed you with a softness that made you feel cherished, his voice low as he murmured words of love.

And Ghost, though still quieter than the others, would sit beside you, his fingers brushing over yours, his touch reverent as he watched you with a gaze that spoke volumes. When he held you, it was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he couldn’t believe you were there with him.

In these shared moments, you found a kind of love and connection that you’d never known. Together, you formed a bond stronger than any you’d ever imagined, a family bound by love and trust. And in their arms, surrounded by their warmth, you knew you’d found a home, one where you were loved wholly and completely by each of them.

Hope you enjoyed! Please follow, like and Reblog💜 -Midnight’s Cafe

[pumpkinpaix]

You have questions! We might have answers.

What is this collection?

As Maria puts it: this collection is a critical look at some of the things that we, the editors, think have made CQL such a hit around the world. Of course, part of that success comes from the webnovel MDZS and the show CQL themselves—we love the characters, the mystery, and the drama, who doesn’t?! However, the authors in our book also look at topics like translating danmei (both officially and unofficially), adapting danmei for new audiences, and interacting with fandoms and fanworks. The larger argument of the book is that all of these things played a huge role in CQL’s visibility and success, and we wanted to start making those moving pieces visible, especially for audiences who mainly watched CQL in translation.

You keep using the word “academic”—what does that mean, exactly? 

Maria: Ok, not to get pedantic here, but this actually touches on some things that I’m really excited about for the book. Traditionally, academic work is written by people who have a deep expertise in the subject (signified by having a PhD and doing specific kinds of research), and then the work itself is peer-reviewed (i.e., sent to other experts in the field for them to evaluate whether it’s sound, original, and interesting enough to publish, without knowing who wrote it). And both of these things are true about our book—our authors have deep knowledge and the book was peer reviewed—but also. We specifically asked for chapters from younger scholars and from fans who also have deep knowledge about topics that academia doesn’t always know or value enough, and we include an interview from the fan-translator K. who did the Exiled Rebels translation. So the hope is that: this book is academic, and also—more!

Who are you? 

Yue studies adaptation, fantasy, and popular culture texts using a feminist lens. She wrote an early, influential article about danmei adaptations and also has a book about feminist adaptations of Chinese fantasy.

Maria studies fanworks, contemporary fantasy, and genre literature. She’s scrambling to finish her dissertation right now.

How were the chapter spotlights chosen?

Voluntarily! The concept of a small social media promo was kicked around by some of the contributors and those interested in the idea filled out a short interview with what they wanted to share. We'll be posting about 2 introductions and 2 spotlights a day for the next week or so!

Who's running this social media campaign anyway?

Not the publishers! A few enthusiastic collection contributors got together and, with the assistance of the editors, have put this promotion together. We do not in any way represent Peter Lang in an official capacity! We just worked hard and wanted to share. :)

Are you making any money off of royalties from this book? 

LOL not even remotely

What about this promotion?

also no. alas

Where can I find this book? 

You can find our listing on Peter Lang’s website here. As for other retailers, a quick search should turn us up!  

How can I access this book if I cannot buy it from Peter Lang / [book retailer of choice]?

As collection editors and contributors who signed a legal agreement with Peter Lang, we have granted Peter Lang exclusive right and license to edit, adapt, publish, reproduce, distribute, display, and store our contributions, and we must cooperate fully with the Publisher if the Publisher believes a third party is infringing or is likely to infringe copyright in the contribution. 

That being said, these are academic papers, which means that contributors may make copies of the contribution for classroom teaching use! (These copies may not be included in course pack material for onward sale by libraries and institutions). Of course, any linking, collection or aggregation of chapters from the same volume is strictly prohibited.

(FAQ may be updated periodically!) (all posts on Catching Chen Qing Ling)

[chvoswxtch]

oi, matt! can i get a macchiato? mayhaps over ice if that’s what the barista has to offer today….

matt x assistant!reader at nelson and murdock is one of my favourite flavours ever. i just neeeeed your take on it.

you know I had to kick off the celebration with this slut (works for you or matty) <3 also just so you know I could've kept going with this forever but tumblr told me to shut up bc apparently there's a word limit on answering asks but you get the picture ;)

as a reminder, over ice means it's spicy ! (minors dni)

headcannon below the cut

matt murdock is an hr nightmare

when foggy mentions that nelson & murdock could desperately use an assistant since karen is now at the bulletin, before matt even has a chance to speak, foggy is warning him to keep his dick in his pants

and when matt pulls that face (you know the one, the "she wanted to teach me" look of faux innocence) foggy reminds matt that not only is he a whore but he also has a history of being tempted by forbidden fruit (he probably fucked all the female interns at landman and zack, and then there's karen who he would've slept with if frank & elektra hadn't shown up but that's a different story for a different day)

matt does the lil "i cross my heart" thing and swears to foggy that he won't get involved with the new assistant

he also makes this promise to himself bc let's face it he's a human disaster who's life is constantly falling apart and the last thing he needs is drama that could've been avoided if he thought with the right head

but then the day of the interviews arrive and you walk in the room, and matt knows at that moment that he is completely fucked

your scent hits him first, something soft and subtle, a breath of fresh air from the stuffy office smell and the lingering assault of pungent perfume left behind by other candidates that had given him a dull headache

then it's your voice, god your voice, it's the most melodious sound he's ever heard. it's gentle but crisp, and your alluring intonation has him hanging onto your every word, especially his name that fell from your lips in greeting

touching your hand nearly does him in, bc getting to feel your smooth skin caress his rough palm makes it even worse. there's a an electric spark that tingles in his fingertips and shoots throughout the rest of his body, and he finds himself wondering if you feel it too, but then catches himself and quickly plasters on a professional appearance

it was one thing that every single thing about your existence drew him in, but the fact that you were also intelligent and well-spoken, deeply passionate and genuinely empathetic, while also quick to craft clever responses without your sharp wit coming off as ostentatious just made matt want you more

matt was uncharacteristically quiet while foggy asked most of the questions, to which you gave perfect answers, and occasionally chimed in with a few of his own just to redirect your attention where he wanted it: on him

by the end of the interview, foggy was sold on you, and so was matt, but for duplicitious reasons

matt tries so hard to keep his promise, but fuck do you make it (and him) hard. he makes a point to never be alone with you in the office. if a round at josie's is suggested, he makes sure foggy or karen will also be there. he tries to balance between being friendly while also being professional, trying to find the invisible line that crosses from innocent inquisitions to dangerous territory

he does his best not to initiate physical contact, which proves to be difficult, bc you're a hugger and always politely offering matt your arm to guide him whenever you go anywhere

you're so kind and thoughtful and treat him the exact way you treat everyone else and it makes him want to put his head through a wall bc every day that he spends with you makes this attraction worse and worse and he can't tell if it's purely physical or if it goes deeper than that

and then one day he just fucking snaps

matt has a really bad day. a lead he'd been working on for weeks ended up being a dead end, and matt had taken his frustration out on some petty thug in an alley, but it wasn't enough. he'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed, late at that, to a handful of voicemails from a pissed off foggy. it had been a grueling day in court, all of his senses were overwhelmed, and he had so much pent up tension in his body that he felt stiff

he was so wrapped up in himself that when he walked through the door of the office, he didn't realize he'd broken his own rule: never be alone with you

as soon as he realizes his mistake, he heads towards his office, returning your polite greeting with a grunt of acknowledgement. he hoped that you'd leave it alone, that you'd say something like you were just about to leave, and he'd be spared from you coming closer. but you being you, noticing every little detail and having learned to read matt, could tell something was off

you just wanted to help. you always just wanted to help, and matt loved that about you, but right now, it was only making this more difficult for him bc his self restraint was deteriorating

and then you gently touched his shoulder and matt let out a groan bc he could smell what you'd done the night previously. the scent of your arousal was still embedded in your skin even though you'd washed your hands several times, and the scent of soap was almost nonexistent as matt's nose focused solely on the delectable scent of your pussy on your own fingers

he'd made himself come many times to the thought of you over the last few months, but knowing that you'd fingered yourself last night possibly to the thought of him is what broke his resolve

matt didn't need his heightened senses to know you were attracted to him, that you felt something for him too. he knew it because he knew you, and sometimes you were obvious even when you thought you were being subtle for the sake of both your friendship and your professional reputation

before either of you could process what was happening, matt was devouring your mouth in a heated kiss, your blouse was halfway unbuttoned, just enough for him to pull down the cups of your bra to leave your tits spilling into his welcoming hands. your soft whimpers echoed around the empty office as he toyed with your nipples while assaulting your neck with his teeth and tongue

in record time you were bent over his desk, skirt bunched up around your hips, panties caught around your calves, and matt was pulling down his zipper to free his fully hard cock

the immense relief he felt as he sank into you fully from behind nearly brought him to his knees. he didn't know if it was the heightened allure of having something he wasn't supposed to, or how perfectly your tight cunt enveloped his thick cock, but he quickly got lost in your warm walls like a dazzling labyrinth he never wanted to escape

you were so fucking wet that it was obscene the noises your pussy made welcoming his cock as he pounded into you over and over and over again. but his favorite sound was you chanting his name, desperately pleading for more, which he was all too happy to oblige

you took him so well, your pussy enveloping his cock in a greedy manner, not allowing him the chance to slip out despite how soaked you were. he reached as deep as your body would allow and fucked you relentlessly like a madman on a mission

his rough hands gripped your hips in a bruising manner, and he was completely lost in a fog of lust. it didn't take long for either of you to come undone and it finally clicked for matt that he wasn't the only one that had been depriving himself for the sake of not crossing a boundary when your cunt tightened around his cock before flooding him with your release

matt waited until the absolute last possible second, swiftly pulling out with a hiss as he replaced your pussy with his right hand, stroking his cock at an inhuman speed just a few times before coating your ass in ropes of his come

he collapsed in his chair, but not without wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you down with him. the sound of heavy panting filled his office, and the air was humid and drenched in the scent of sex. matt nuzzled his face into your neck, hugging your back to his chest while the two of you attempted to catch your breath

he's able to pick up on the fact that your heart is still racing not bc of the incredible spontaneous sex, but also out of anxiety about what happens next, so matt decides to break the silence first

"I uh...know this is kinda backwards but, I was wondering if I could take you to dinner?"

in conclusion, he's a fucking menace

[spearsillustration]

🏛️ Senator Shockwave X Cybertronian Female Assistant Reader (Part 1/3)

Notes: Why did I ever have to learn that Shockwave had a super tragic backstory? When I was younger he was my least favorite Decepticon since I just thought he was pure evil. Practically crying after seeing what happened to him in the comics. And his line "Remember me as I was-." Was an even harder blow. 😭

This will probably end up being super long. I had half of this planned and the other kind of thrown in randomly so not my best work but I'm proud of it nonetheless. 

- I fear this might be a boring read, So I'd love some feedback after you finish reading this. - 

Part 2/3 -

Word count - 5,424

Page number - 15.2

        I was rushing to get to the senate building where I had a meeting this morning. I went to the front desk asking where I could find Shockwave. The person at the front desk gave me extremely vague directions. I just hoped I could find his office. 

        Luckily for me, I found an office that looked at least a bit useful I could probably ask for better directions. I lightly knocked on the door to politely get their attention. 

        He seemed lost in thought before looking up at the door where I stood. 

        "Oh, welcome to the senate. How can I help you?"

        "I'm sorry to bother you, I was scheduled for an interview with Shockwave for the assistant position and seed to have gotten myself lost," I said shyly from the door. I was definitely lost.

        "I'm probably in the wrong place."

        He looks up from his desk. "Ah, yes. That was today. You're in the right place."

        He stood up, moving around the desk to greet me at the door. "Please, do come in. Take a seat."

        I tried my best to shake off my nerves and smiled. "Of course thank you."

        He gestured to the seat across his desk.

        "Please, make yourself comfortable." He returns to his seat. "May I have your name first and foremost?

        "(Y/N) sir. It's nice to finally meet you in person." 

        "(Y/N), hm? Well, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. And you said you were here for the assistant position?"

        "Correct." I kept my hand neatly folded in my lap so I wouldn't nervously fidget.

        "Right."He leaned back in his chair, seemingly studying me before nodding.

        "Now, just so you are aware, as my assistant, you would essentially be my second pair of hands. You would need to be there at my beck and call for anything I may need." He explained. "You will also need to keep track of my calendar and make sure it's up-to-date and correct at all times. Can you do that?"

        "Yes sir."

        "Very good. I should also mention, that if you *do* get this position, it will be long hours. Long hours and more than a few late nights. Do you think you can handle that?"

        "Nothing I can't handle, I'm a night owl myself so some late hours aren't a problem for me."

        He seems pleased enough. "Excellent, as a follow-up question, are you at all familiar with my work or... philosophy?"

        "Of course, I've read some of your historical studies and other works related to your late mentor. I always found it quite interesting."

        "As you should!" He leaned forward on his desk, a slight smile on his face as he spoke, clearly pleased by my answer. "I find a surprising amount of people in this city don't see the true potential of the technology we develop. Not to mention our society itself. But I can sense you're a bit more aware than the average individual."

        "I graduated from the same academy you went to. I've seen some of your work firsthand. It was one of my old professors who told me you were looking for an assistant so I quickly applied to work with you."

        He chuckled heartily at this news. "Ah, is that so? Hah, they're still teaching my work? I'd almost be flattered if that old building hadn't fallen apart even more since my time there. But, I digress, it's an interesting coincidence, of our... similar histories. Although I can't say most of my old professors had anything positive to say about me, to my face or not."

        "Yeah he can be quite stern but he seems proud of your accomplishments. He almost made my spark give out when he sent me a message telling me about you. Not very often he reaches out."

        He laughed again. "That old coot? Hah! You know, I don't think he's changed a bolt since I first met him. Always so "passionate" about progress, about expanding our minds and inventing new technology and whatnot."

        He leaned back against his chair again, taking a moment to size you up as a person.

        "And he has a soft spot for you, does he?"

        "Apparently and completely unexpected. I graduated five years ago and this is the first time I remember speaking to him besides running into him a few times. I always thought he hated me or at least my class." I laughed at the thought.

        He chuckled as well, shaking his head. "Oh, he most "definitely" thought of your class as a bunch of dunder-headed fools and idiots. I couldn’t count on my servo how many classes of his I had to sit through as he bemoaned the incompetence of his students. But something about you… must've caught his optics."

        "I suppose, but you as well it seems. He talked pretty highly of you. But he also said at least one of his students had to do something with their lives." 

        "Did he, now? Hah! I can hear it now…Well, at least at least ONE of my students will accomplish something*.”

        He imitated the professor, lowering his voice and making it harsher and gruff to replicate him. I couldn't help but laugh at his silly impression. Causing his smile to grow wider as he continues the imitation, laughing himself. 

        “Shockwave! Yes, I remember him… He was the ONE I had hopes for. He had a good brain! But now he’s a politician, so I can see it’s all gone to his head!" He continued.

        "Sounds about right. If I closed my eyes I'd think I was back in the academy."

        He chuckled, resting his arms back on his desk and watching me intently. It seemed he enjoyed my presence. 

        "He certainly did have a way with words, I'll give him that. As I said, very passionate. Very *very* passionate. Okay back on topic. So tell me, miss (Y/N), why do you want this job?"

        "I'm honestly interested in working with you. Your research is top notch and you're a politician I fully support."

        His smile widened. "Ah, a flattery, as well as a loyalist. You're a sharp one. And a quick learner, I imagine." He leaned back in his seat a bit. "Now, tell me this; if you don’t mind, what interests you about my work the most? I’m curious."

        "Your outlook on the future Is quite interesting and you seem to be one of the only researchers interested in our resources. You are aware that as our population grows we need more energon mainly. Too many people try to simply think in the present which won't help us in the long run." I accidentally ranted on. 

        He nodded, pleased with my answer. "So you understood what he was trying to accomplish...Precisely. People in this city, especially those I work with up in the Senate, are more concerned with now, or themselves more than Cybertron as a whole. In this day and age, a city of this size requires a very specific amount of energon for it to thrive. And we’ve nearly used up our planet’s natural resources." He laced his fingers together. "Something must be done to maintain that balance."

        "And I know your research is to find a solution. I'd love to assist you in that endeavor."

        He smiled at this. "It’s been a while since someone was so enthusiastic, or willing, to assist in his cause, let alone someone with a similar mindset to my own. I like you. You’ve got ambition, you’re quick, and you seem to be capable of thinking for yourself. It’s very refreshing, I’ll say that much."

        "Thank you, sir." 

        "Oh please, sir makes me feel old. Just call me Shockwave.  I have a question for you if you don’t mind."

        "Oh of course Shockwave."

        "Now, I have to ask. You’re not interested in getting into politics, are you?" He chuckled softly. "You’d either be a terrifying political opponent or an excellent addition, given what I’ve seen."

        "Oh me, I couldn't do politics. I'm a horrible public speaker. I stumble my words and get super anxious." I answered a bit too honestly.

        "A shy one? I never would’ve guessed." He seemed almost genuinely surprised. "You carry yourself well. You look like a confident person, you certainly sound it, although a bit reserved."

        "I do the best I can in professional settings."

        "Fair enough." He seemed to think for a moment, studying me, then smiled again. "Tell you what. How about I give you a week-long trial? See how you can handle yourself working alongside me, get a true taste of the position, hmm?"

        "That sounds perfect to me." 

        He smiled, nodding in agreement, and stood up. "Excellent, be here at 9 am, next Monday, sharp. No being late, first impression, and all that. I’ll clear out some space at my desk for you, you’ll be working there for the majority of the time. I’m expecting good things from you, (Y/N)."

        "Thank you so much, you won't regret your decision." I shake his hand with a smile.

        "So I shouldn’t, (Y/N)" He grips my hand firmly in a handshake, his expression stern yet pleased, before it softens again as he releases you. You best be on your way now, you know the way out. Until next Monday, it’s been a pleasure, I’m looking forward to working with you."

        "Me as well. See you Monday." I stood up and gave him a curt nod with a smile before leaving.

        I was so giddy with excitement the second the door closed behind me I had to take a deep breath to calm myself.

        Can't wait to start.

---

[Time skip to Monday]

        I made sure to leave early so I wouldn't be late. I arrived at his facility half an hour early so I walked the halls a bit anxiously waiting for the proper time to enter his office. I think five minutes early would suffice. When I stepped into his office, he looked up from his work, smiling at me.

        "Ah, (Y/N) right on time. Good, you seem to be a punctual individual, good quality to have."

        "I do the best I can Shockwave."

        "That’s what I like to hear," He set down the datapad he was going over and got up from his chair, gesturing to the small, clearly recently made space on the other side of his desk. "Come, take a seat."

        "Thank you." I walked over to my new nicely organized work space.

        He stepped out of the way as you slid into the seat, standing next to you as he gestured to your area. "Ah, I had one of the staff set that up for you last Friday. I trust it’s to your liking. If not, feel free to request a change whenever you feel necessary."

        "No It'll work perfectly for me."

        He nodded, satisfied with my response, then pointed at the datapad he had put down earlier. "Speaking of which, your primary function here will be to assist me. You’ll be taking care of my calendar, and you’ll also be a sort of…second pair of hands. Whatever I may need you to do around the office, I expect you to do it well, with minimal error, and promptly. Is that understood?

        "Completely." 

        He smiled, pleased, and sat back down in his chair. "Excellent, and remember, my work here is private, what you see or hear in this office stays in this office, understood?"

        "Of course, I figured as much with your position."

        His smile grew. "You learn quickly, good. That’s a very necessary quality to have, around here."

        He put a fresh datapad in front of me. "Now, first thing’s first. Open that, and familiarize yourself with my schedule for the day."

        "Understood," I said reading through the list. "Seems like an easy workload for today. Some paperwork to sort through, and meeting with one of your fellow senators later this evening. Which in the end would probably include more paperwork to fill out."

        Shockwave nodded, watching intently as I quickly read through his schedule. "Very good, correct on both counts. Very observant, I must say. Tell me, you read fast, don’t you?"

        "Yes sir, always have. I quite enjoy it as well."

        He smiled again, resting his chin against his fist as he studied me from behind his desk, amused by how enthusiastic I was. Eager to learn, eager to work. Exactly the kind of person he had been looking for I hoped.

        "Reading is a hobby of yours, then?"

        "Yep,"  I answered while looking at the data pad.

        He chuckled and leaned back in his Chair, "Any other hobbies you might have? You know I’m going to do a background check on you, I might as well have the whole list."

        "Reading, writing, and art are the main things I enjoy." 

        He raised an eyebrow, intrigued by that. "Reading, writing, and art, hm…? You’re a creative type, then?"

        "Yes, and it comes in quite handy for work."

        He smiled again, leaning his chin against his palm. "Oh, I imagine it does. And these aren’t just things you do during your leisure time? You put them to good use, as well? I’m almost jealous, I have a one-track mind, it’s all about politics and work."

        "Well, we all work differently." Though it was a bit disheartening to hear. He must overwork himself.

        He chuckled bitterly like I read his mind, confirming my thoughts.

        "Indeed we all do. But unfortunately, politics isn’t kind to individuals with many, diverse, interests. My mind tends to hyper-fixate on the present, on work, and my research. Sometimes I wish it weren’t that way…" He paused, thinking for a moment.

        "Say, what time was my meeting later?" He changed the subject so quickly that it almost made my head spin.

        "Oh um, five this evening." I quickly answered looking back down at the datapad.

        "Tch, 5?"  He looked at the time, a bit bothered that the meeting was later than he thought. "That’s right, why am I only just now remembering this…?"

        He mumbled, clearly annoyed with his forgetfulness. Then, turning back to me, he looked contemplative for a moment and then got to his feet. "You’re joining me for the meeting."

        "To take notes I assume?" I was a bit nervous joining a meeting room full of senators.

        "Of course, that’s one of the main purposes of your being here, I’ll need you to take notes." He said with a nod, walking over to stand next to my chair, and leaning on my desk. It seemed he noticed my nervous expression and smiled. "But you don’t need to look so frightened, you won’t be the one in the hot seat."

        Well, that eased my worry for the most part. "Shouldn't be anything I can't handle."

        "Exactly."

        He chuckled, folding his arms as he leaned over the desk. We both were so close now, and he seemed almost amused by how nervous I looked. "And even if something were to go wrong, I’ll be there. Don’t worry, I don’t throw my assistants to the wolves."

        "W-well I appreciate that."

        He quickly continued with his line of thought, still leaning up against my desk. "And if I may ask, why do you look so nervous? As far as I’m concerned, you’re not the one being scrutinized by the other senators, you’re here for my benefit. Is it the other senators that worry you?"

        "A bit, I just don't know what to expect. I'm just a bit nervous and I'm new to the job. The longer I work with you the calmer I'll be." 

        "You’re very inexperienced, yes, I’ve noticed. That’s another one of your good qualities, you’re not afraid to admit that." He smiled, tilting his head, still leaning next to me. "The others won’t scrutinize or judge you, I promise. They may question me, and be somewhat skeptical of you, but I’ll handle them, you needn’t worry."

[Timeskip To Meeting]

        Now I was walking beside Shockwave, the halls of the senate building bustling with activity around the two of us as we made our way to the meeting. It was evident Shockwave held an established presence in the halls, his gaze commanded respect and demanded attention.

        Eventually, we arrived at the meeting in question, a large room with a long table taking up most of the space. A few other senators were already present, chatting amongst themselves at their seats. A few of them looked over to Shockwave as we both entered. I stayed behind Shockwave and silently followed him to his designated spot. 

        He took his seat, right at the center of the table, with me beside him. The others were still chatting, a casual atmosphere until Shockwave clears his throat, and they fall silent. He waits until everyone is in place before speaking. "Alright, let’s get down to business."

        His booming voice was completely different from his usual tone. It silenced the room entirely as everyone else looked our way making me take a deep breath.

        He smiles as everyone quiets down, some of them glancing in my direction before turning their attention back to him entirely. He takes a moment to glance around the table, observing everyone’s expressions, and their demeanors, before speaking again. "If I may have your attention, I have a new assistant that I wish to introduce." He motions to me, and I immediately feel multiple pairs of optics and attention on me.

        My eyes widened a bit anxiously as I turned to him hoping he would do the introducing part. I'm worried my voice wouldn't hold nearly as much volume as his. 

        He chuckles softly, seemingly amused by my hesitation. He glances at me then back at the other senators, before addressing them all again. "This is (Y/N), she’ll be my assistant from now on, and a valuable asset to me."

        I note the smile he gives me while he says this, and the senators begin murmuring and whispering amongst themselves. Shockwave doesn’t object to this, instead smiling wider, clearly waiting to hear what they have to say. You also notice some of them glancing your way occasionally.

        I quickly whispered my thanks. I probably would have made a fool of myself and him if I spoke.

        He glances over at me and nods, before turning his attention back to his fellow senators, his expression slightly more serious. They had now finished their whispering, and Shockwave spoke up again, his voice returning to a somewhat stoic and serious tone. "Now, enough distractions, I believe the topic at hand was funding for the Iacon Academy. Yes?"

        As they went back and forth with their arguments I wrote down every word from the Senators, which I will say is quite difficult with all the useless bickering some decided to partake in.

        It was clear some of the senators were more interested in arguing for the sake of arguing, rather than actually getting things done. Shockwave was getting noticeably more annoyed with each word spoken in the meeting. His fists occasionally clenched, and his jaw tensed, he was growing frustrated with it all. Even still, he was a master at keeping his composure, his expression stoic, never letting anyone see him annoyed. The fact that I had noticed, was a slight testament to my perceptiveness.

        I looked up at him with a nervous smile easily noticing his annoyance and whispered to him. "I didn't realize how annoying your job must be at times."

        He glanced at me when I spoke and sighed internally. He was trying his best to maintain a professional demeanor, but they were pushing it.

        "The arguing, the bickering, is just one of many parts of the job I could go without." He whispered back, keeping eye contact with me, before returning his attention to the meeting.

        "How do you ever get anything done around here?"

        He chuckled a little at that. A rare moment of lighthearted humor in the tense atmosphere of the meeting. "A fair and understandable question to ask in this situation."

        He sighs, as the arguing only raises in volume, before tapping the table, and commanding all attention on him.

        With a stern expression and a commanding tone, he speaks. "That is enough!"

        His tone would have scared me out of my seat if it had been directed at me. All eyes turn to him in unison. Shockwave stares straight ahead with an intense, yet serious expression, waiting for one of them to argue or object. No one speaks up, and he takes this opportunity to speak again. "All this arguing among friends doesn't get us anywhere, does it? We’re all here with the same goal, to aid the best interest of Cybertron. We may have our own beliefs and personal goals, but our purpose here is to keep things running smoothly for the greater good of all."

        I wasn't always completely certain of his goals as a politician but his voice rang out with a truly hopeful and optimistic outlook for Cybertron. I was proud to be working beside him. He glanced in my direction again, for a moment, a silent gesture of reassurance. He wasn’t done speaking yet. But he was pleased to see he had made an impression. His expression and tone soon turned serious again, and he began speaking once more. "We’re all on the same side here. Let’s put this childish squabbling aside for a moment, and start getting work done."

        I looked around the table to see all the senators had a slight look of shame. Shockwave smiles, pleased to see them all quiet and a bit humiliated by his actions, and continues speaking, as he pulls up a holographic map for them all to see. "Alright, let’s get back to business." He says as he moves on to the subject of the Iacon Academy.

        It had seen better days since I last saw it. A heartbreaking sight to see such a wonderful facility going to shambles. He brings up some numbers, charts, and other data related to the academy. All concerning funds, or lack thereof.

        "This academy has stood as a beacon of learning and knowledge for generations of individuals in this city, but funding is running dry. More and more of its resources are dedicated towards its deteriorating state rather than actual education, and it's getting worse by the day."

        It was truly a shame to see. I just hoped they could all agree on a solution.

        A small discussion ensues between the others, some agreeing some arguing, and some simply keeping to themselves. It goes on for a short amount of time until one of them speaks up.

        "I say we cut funds entirely from the Iacon Academy, and dedicate those funds to something more useful." Came from one of the quiet senators on the far end of the table.

        I accidentally gasped at the suggestion louder than I'd like. So I quickly covered my mouth and looked down at my notes hoping I didn't get scolded for my disruption.

        Shockwave raised an eyebrow at this unexpected outburst and glanced over at me. Then, glaring at the one who suggested cutting all funds, he says, pointedly and sternly, "The Iacon Academy needs funding, we cannot just cut funding entirely. It's a core part of our city, and we can't simply just let it fall apart."

        Shockwave took the words right out of my mouth. Shockwave glared at the one that suggested the foolish idea. The others all began to speak up and add their own opinions, some more heated than others. It was clear it'd become a bit of an argument again, one quite different than the bickering during the start of the meeting. It was now a tense discussion of different opinions, with everyone throwing ideas into the mix. Again, Shockwave's fists clench, and his jaw goes tense again. He seems frustrated but keeps himself from reacting, for now.

        He called for the meeting to close for now so everyone could think through their decisions and come back with clear plans rather than arguing with one another.

        And just like that, the meeting was over. Most of the other senators seemed disgruntled and mildly irritated with Shockwave's decision to close the meeting in the middle of a discussion, but they didn't object.  

        He knew they'd come back later with even more to say, and even more to argue about, but it would hopefully be less heated than this meeting, and actually accomplish what it was meant to. After the others began to leave, Shockwave sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, tired from everything that had just taken place.

        "Are you alright Shockwave?" I asked kindly while making sure all my notes were together and organized properly. I know he'd like to read over them later.

        He looked over at me, surprised, and sighed. "Just tired. Frustrated with all their arguing and bickering, it happens every single time. I don't know why they bother to show up if all they do is go back and forth about things."

        "Well, that's how it always seems to be when people with positions of power get in a room together. But you seem different. You don't act like most politicians."

        He raises an eyebrow again, amused by this comment. "Oh really? And how is it you expect politicians to act, exactly?"

        "Well like most of the people arguing during the meeting. Argumentative, rude, judgemental, and completely self-centered."

        He rolls his eyes at this, nodding in agreement. "Unfortunately, that's just what it's like working with most fellow politicians, I could spend hours listing everything I find annoying about the way most of them act."

        "Then why do you do it, why deal with them? There are plenty of other things you could do to help people. And less dangerous. You're always in danger while in your position and no one can get along."

        He crossed his arms, a serious but calm expression on his face. "Because if no one like me does it, then everything will go to waste, and nothing will change for the better. Someone needs to maintain balance and make sure things run smoothly. I am quite aware of the dangers that come with the job, but I am willing to take the risk to make sure Cybertron continues to thrive."

        I could almost sigh. "You're too good for this job. I mutter to myself. An old friend of mine also told me about you before I got this job, you know him pretty well. Orion Pax, the name should sound familiar. I might have liked a bit about why I signed up for this job."

        His eyes widened and he raised an eyebrow again. "Orion? Of course, I've known him for longer than I can remember. What does he have to do with this?"

        "He's the main reason I applied for this job. He's worried about your safety. We all know you've had multiple death threats in your time working here. We'd all hate to see you get hurt."

        He raises an eyebrow at the death threats part. "Of course, he is."

        He sighs. "I appreciate his concern, but I'm not in danger. I know how to handle myself, and I'm perfectly aware of all the risks that come with the job. I knew what I was getting into when I decided to join the Senate, and I won't let a handful of death threats from scared politicians stop me."

        "Well Orion wants to make sure you're safe so..he might have asked me to try and work with you. Everything I said in our interview was true but I'm not just a simple assistant. I worked with Orion before on more important and dangerous operations."

        "You…Worked with Orion on something dangerous?" He tilts his head, looking at you with a curious yet somewhat uneasy expression. "Tell me truthfully, did Orion know you were going to mention this to me?"

        "No he wanted me to stay quiet, but I hated the idea of lying to you. I wanted you to know the truth, but my main reason for being here is to help you and make sure you're safe for Orion's sake."

        He crosses his arms, and his expression turns into a serious yet slightly displeased look. "Orion knows that I don't want to be protected or treated differently because of his concerns. And he should have told me this ahead of time. I understand his concern, but I didn't ask for him to send someone to watch over me."

        I looked down in defeat. "If you want me to leave I'd understand."

        He shakes his head and sighs. He's angry with Orion, and his expression makes that clear. "No, I don't want you to leave. I want you to do exactly what you were hired for. It's Orion who I have some… choice words for."

        "He only means well. He views you as a good friend. But times like these are unsafe for good bots like you. Well us I suppose."

        "I'm aware, he's mentioned that fact countless times before and I always tell him the same thing. There are others more valuable than me, and I can handle myself if there really is danger. And I know he means well. The concern comes from a good place and I appreciate the sentiment, truly. But sending someone to protect me, without ever asking me about it is just… a bit insulting." 

        "That's why I wanted to tell you. And the only reason Orion sent me is because he's heard word of someone planning something against you. We're not sure yet but it seems like you're in danger."

        He raised an eyebrow, listening intently. "Heard of something? From who? Do you know anything concrete about these threats?"

        "From what I know it's possible some of the other senators want to take you out. But that's all I know for sure. I wish I could tell you more."

        He closes his eyes and puts a hand to his chin, in a thinking pose. "They want to take me out? That's certainly an interesting development… and probably not all that surprising, a good portion of the senators don't like me one bit." He sighs and turns back to me, his expression more serious now and his tone matching it. "So you're here to what? Look out for me?"

        "In simple terms, yes."

        He looks me up and down, considering the situation. He's still somewhat unhappy about this arrangement, but he's not exactly opposed to it either. "I don't need anyone's protection, no matter what Orion says. But I respect the honesty you've shown...Alright, I accept your presence. But don't expect me to be any more careful than usual."

        "I accept those terms. I'll still only function as your assistant unless you're in danger. My goal isn't to be an overgrown babysitter. I'm only here when needed."

        He nods, and his expression softens again. "That's all I ask. As long as you still function as my assistant. I'm still not happy with Orion, I'll need to speak with him later."

[imagining-in-the-margins]

hi!! do you have any fic recs for non-bau!reader x spencer? i’m not too picky just would love to read about navigating a domestic relationship with an agent while being entirely NOT in that field! so maybe something fluffy (but never opposed to smutty). thank you in advanced 🧚‍♀️

Hey friend! I've compiled most of my Civilian!Reader fics here, although I will say not a lot of them focus on the difficulties navigating the job. For that, you'll find the most luck with my two most popular series below. Otherwise, it's a somewhat eclectic group of fics, which I hope you can still enjoy ❤️

If anyone has any favorite fics that the anon might be interested in, please share them in the comments or reblogs! Self-promotion is always welcome!

S.R. Series (NSFW, 18+ MINORS DNI)

The Birds & The Bees (ongoing series): Prof!Spencer, Virgin!Reader. Reader interviews for a position as Dr. Spencer Reid’s Teaching Assistant, and Spencer learns something special about her.

Here to Misbehave (completed series): Spencer meets a girl he can’t get enough of at the nightclub, then quickly realizes she is not supposed to be there.

S.R. SFW Oneshots

Dead Air: Professor Reid is hesitant to be a guest on his old student’s true crime video series, but is surprised to find it’s not so bad.

Defining Family: Spencer finds out he’s a dad… to a twelve year old girl. Your twelve year old girl, who just broke into the FBI.

Devil’s Advocate: Spencer’s been hooking up with the defense attorney in secret. At some point what was purely physical turned into something else.

Fairytales: Spencer comes home to his very tired wife and even more tired child who refused to go to bed without a bedtime story from their dad.

Funny Thing Fate: Autistic!Reader is tipsy and lost in D.C. when she spots a man she thinks might be able to help.

Haunted: Spencer’s never told anyone what happened in prison.

Growing Pains: Spencer finds unfamiliar lingerie in the laundry. When he confronts his wife, he learns it belongs to their teenage daughter.

Intentions: Spencer’s teenage daughter wants to have a conversation with you about your intentions with her father.

It’s Personal: Reader reminds Spencer’s team that it’s never appropriate to ask someone for their age, even if they’re dating their coworker.

Java Jive: Spencer and Emily take a break at the local coffee shop and she makes an understandable mistake about barista Reader and Spencer’s relationship.

Kitten Love: Spencer’s vet begrudgingly agrees to an emergency house call.

Maddening One, My Goddess: Spencer has a one night stand… on February 13th. The next day, he is confronted with a familiar face on his pre-planned double date.

Not Your Backup: Spencer and JJ argue about her jealousy of his girlfriend.

Quid Pro Quo: Spencer is entranced by the law student in his class.

Rib Cage: Spencer realizes Reader is the one, but it might be too late. He has to find her.

Serendipitous: Spencer’s pretty sure Penelope mixed up his blind date.

Stranger Danger: Reader is a single mother having a very bad day.

Style Theory: Fashion student Reader meets their favorite scholar and teaches him a lesson in self-love.

The Perfect Plan: Reader has a question for Spencer, but things don’t go according to plan.

The Prodigy Path: At a parent teacher conference, Spencer and Reader explain their seemingly unorthodox parenting style.

S.R. SFW Blurbs

At Ease: Spencer comes home to his partner and finds them still asleep.

Birthday Wish: Spencer is sad he can’t reach you on his birthday.

Favorite Person: Reader just needs a little extra reassurance sometimes.

S.R. NSFW Oneshots (18+, MINORS DNI)

Big Bad Wolf (Part 1, Part 2): Spencer is overwhelmed by the apparent innocence of an elementary school teacher he meets on a case.

Blush: Spencer finds something surprising in his girlfriend’s sock drawer after he’s released from prison.

Cupid & Psyche: Reader and Spencer get kidnapped by a rather romantic matchmaking unsub who demands they perform for him.

Devil in the Backseat: Reader is a little too much (and Spencer's into it).

Get Lucky: It’s 3AM and a pipe burst in Reader’s apartment. She is soaked, angry, and forgot her wallet and phone. Her neighbor Spencer tries his best to make the night not terrible.

I Like It Like That: Spencer is jealous after a rowdy party.

Kiss ’n Tell: Reader gets drunk on a night out with the girls and accidentally mimics her boyfriend’s habit of oversharing.

My Boss’s Daughter: Spencer’s fling with his boss’s daughter is definitely going to get him fired.

Relief in Regrets: Spencer turns to his ex-girlfriend in a time of need.

Rewrapped: Reader tries to be cheeky, but regrets it a little too late to do anything about it.

Rodeo Show: Spencer and Reader weren’t planning on having an audience that morning.

Schrödinger’s Relationship (Part 1, Part 2): Reader finds out Spencer has been dating a kind and cute woman (when he’s not spending the night at her house).

Study Session: Spencer really hates his student, but he can’t resist her.

Vienna: Spencer is a bona fide 40-year-old virgin. After a few months of dating Reader, he finally decides he wants to change that.

Yellow Light: Everyone thinks Reader is dangerous. Probably because she’s Cat’s sister. But is that why Spencer likes her?

Happy reading!

[lets-try-some-writing]

what if optimus was a human teacher?

Well here is an interesting concept I am 100% going to go crazy with. This is a long one though so I'm going to break this up with a read more and a warning that this isn't going to go the way you might think.

Not So Normal Teacher

The Archivist in Optimus was bored.

Megatron had been quiet for over a year and not a spark had a thing to do until the Decepticons made a move. He had already reorganized the Autobot database three times and he couldn't exactly go wandering off with how much energon he used. He was stuck at base handling communications and mission assignment, and Primus, even the Matrix was antsy. He wanted something to do, anything really. And so after months of sitting around being driven half mad by lack of stimuli, he came up with an idea.

The Archivist in him wanted to teach, to preserve history, and to collect data. What better way to do all of that than by taking up a position as an educator? It was rather outlandish considering he was a Prime and from another world, but there was a school in the nearby human settlement hiring. He had no need for human currency nor was it particularly wise to go sign up as a teacher when the Decepticons could resurge at any moment. However he reasoned that if nothing else he would gain greater insight into human capability through his endeavors.

Ratchet was against his idea from the get-go but allowed Optimus to go through with it after he gave his reasoning and pointed out that he would actually use less energon if he kept his frame at base and worked elsewhere. Thus with Ratchet's begrudging assent, Optimus made himself a whole forged identity for his human holoform, plopped his real frame down in his berth, and got to work.

Orion Pax turned up to the interview looking his best, but despite his efforts there were still a few little things that set him apart. He was indeed professional in wearing a simple turtleneck sweater and jeans with a belt. However that was not what made the interviewer a little concerned, no it was fact that Optimus's hair looked like the American flag with the mixed red white and blue alongside the little markings on his face just under his eyes along with scars that had also transferred over. There was also the fact that his eyes were a little too bright, his movements a tad too stiff, and the way his voice seemed nearly melodic in nature.

However since Orion Pax managed to answer the interview questions perfectly, had a clean record, and was the embodiment of politeness and patience, he was accepted in short order. Thus Optimus got himself a job at Jasper Nevada Memorial High School as history teacher.

Orion Pax befriended the entirety of the teaching staff by the end of week one with his kind disposition, patience, and wisdom beyond his years. He assisted the math teacher in grading papers and even taught him a thing or two with all the patience in the world when the teacher began to struggle. He aided the English teacher by bringing her a cup of coffee and pointing out a small error in her class prep work. He helped the gym teacher get the court set up for the lesson that day and helped him organize the various equipment in record time. He stopped the science teacher from accidentally creating a deadly gas when the teacher passed out from exhaustion halfway through an experiment, leaving Pax to carefully clean up and then grade the teacher's papers for him. Then to top it all off, he assisted the music and arts teacher in her efforts to decorate her classroom for the school year.

The staff loved him, especially the school cleaners since Pax would always stay up late to help them clean despite their protests. He was the perfect co-worker, and quickly found himself as the most loved teacher once the school year started. His students were skeptical of the teacher who looked like he crawled out some sort of cosplaying event and had an American flag for hair, but they swiftly warmed up to him due to his manner of teaching.

Optimus hadn't actually done any real research on human methods of teaching, instead relying on his own experience. In a school as out of the way as Jasper Nevada High School, the regulations were not as strict and so long as students passed their exams, he was allowed to teach as he wished. He did have to adapt a few of his methods to account for human biological limits, but he quickly garnered the students interest with how he went about his teaching.

Using a holoprojector he adjusted to look more like a human one, Optimus, or rather Pax gave the children a more interactive experience. He was passionate as he showed them history in simulations and introduced them to old battles in complicated holographic maps. His classroom was covered in star charts and old documents, studies, and artwork. Every student was urged to find something historical that interested them and dive into it with all their passion and enthusiasm. No students were left unheeded and all their issues were accounted for. The social students were grouped together and given specific historical figures to study in a manner similar to what the archivists of Cybertron did. The less social were given special homework, being required to study a specific event and bring in all they had gathered.

Students with disabilities such as dyslexia and other reading or information processing impediments were personally tutored and grouped. Those who had issues reading were given a partner who would do the reading while they took notes and sectioned out data. Those who had trouble paying attention to certain subjects were given work in areas that had their interest. A child who found warfare to be of interest would be given to mission to look into the Art of War and compile an alternate battle plan for the assault on Rome. A child who preferred the more domestic texts was to come up with a whole biography that was time period accurate for a fictional character living in their chosen era.

Every student had their education specialized to suit them best alongside the general education Orion had them listen to.

Orion was not harsh, he didn't give homework in the manner of other teachers and instead gave the students one big project to complete over the year and smaller personal research projects to complete once a month. A good archivist doesn't rush his research, no, instead time and dedication is given to ensure everything is correct and proper. He did everything in his power to instill this into his students, never putting stern deadlines on anything and instead focusing on fostering interest and a desire for truth.

He wanted his students to love history, not despise it. He wanted them to learn from the mistakes of their ancestors and move forward. And most importantly he made sure to remind them to not be angry at the past and instead see it as an example of another time. For his efforts his students loved him.

It certainly helped that he tended to tell his students altered stories of Cybertron's history, changing bits and pieces to make it seem like a legitimate but long dead human civilization. His students were enraptured with his tales and the battles he made come to life with his projector. Even other teachers would come to listen if they had free time. However to keep his students on task, he only told them stories when the completed their other class's homework before his, thus leading to other teachers finding more success in their lessons too.

After particularly good performances from his students, he would quietly teach them pieces of his culture. He told himself it was just because it was something for them to do, but deep down he knew the real reason why he did this. He didn't want everything of his people to be lost if he were to lose the war. He didn't want everything his people did to be forgotten and washed away by the tests of time. If he was to fail... he wanted something to remain with his students.

Thus he taught them everything he could. He told the other teachers that it was from an ancient culture long forgotten that he was personally studying and come up with some forged documents to prove it. Then his students were introduced to the Ancient Cybertronian language and received extra credit for every work they submitted written in it. He altered the manner in which the glyphs could be processed and spoken while still keeping it as true as possible so that his students could speak it and read it. Then he offered them even more extra credit if they spoke the language in class.

It brought him no end of joy when one Rafael Esquivel made it his mission in life to learn and speak Ancient Cybertronian. If he wasn't long used to having to remain on task even while under increadible stress he would have devoted a great deal of his time to ensuring the boy understood everything perfectly. However he abstained and kept his focus, teaching all his students equally and making sure they were still learning their own history. If Rafael came to him after school to learn more, Optimus never rejected him and taught him happily, more than a little pleased when the boy's glyphs came out as perfectly as they could considering his biology when he spoke.

He also showed his students old dances from all across Cybertron. He altered them as much as he could and gave students different dances based on personality. Students got extra credit if they could perform a dance perfectly by the end of the school year. He never really expected any of them to do it, but by Primus he was surprised when Miko Nakadai turned up guns blazing and performed three different dances from different castes as perfectly as she could considering her biological restraints. She was a terrible study, but evidently her interest in dancing was increadible. Optimus may or may not have taught her a few more dances a little later just to see if she could do it, only to be shocked beyond words when she could indeed do it.

Lastly he introduced his students to Cybertronian art which had a heavy reliance on story telling. It was an end of the year project since his students managed to burn through the curriculum in less than six months and get mostly through the next year's work before the Principle asked Pax to slow down and teach them something else for a while. Optimus thought slowing his student's growth was ridiculous, but he complied and taught them how to engrave and paint in the manner of Cybertronians. It was shortly after he began teaching this that he was yet again surprised to find Jack Darby of all his students to be the one to perform best.

The boy was an excellent engraver, to the point where if Optimus were the kind of mech he might have even let Jack engrave his outer plating. He could get the glyphs nearly perfect every time and had a gift for painting that surpassed more than a few artists from Cybertron during the golden age. It shocked and awed Optimus more than he cared to admit, and much like with his two other exemplary students, he may have slid Jack over a printed copy of some other examples of Cybertronian art from the Autobot database.

He was a proud teacher, and a fragging good one too by any standard. But that was not all, he also cared deeply for his students and got to know all of them. Bonds were a serious thing on Cybertron, especially the ones found between mentor and student. Optimus took the time to understand every student he taught, to learn their likes, their dislikes, and what their situations were. By the end of his first year teaching he already saw his students as his little archivists. He stayed out of their personal lives as much as he could considering his place, but when needed he would answer a call for help.

A student who came in hurt would find their cast covered in loving little glyphs that spoke of wishes and prayers from Cybertron. A student who had a mental illness would be given plenty of small gifts and attention to help them look on the bright side. Students with body image problems were welcomed with love, always receiving a compliment when they entered. Every student was seen to and cared for, especially in the odd case where they came to him for help.

He said he wouldn't get involved, but he was a Prime, he couldn't leave anyone in need of aid. During the singular instance where a student called him in tears at the end of the school day weeping because of their abusive parent, Optimus didn't even hesitate. His holoform was reabsorbed and his real frame moved out. He transformed and drove as fast as he could until he reached the student's residence, at which point he remade his holoform, called authorities, and may or may not have busted down the door to get his student out of there before they could be hurt further.

Not a spark touched one of his little archivists. And while he did get a fine for trespassing and property damage, Optimus had no regrets. It certainly made him feel like his actions were justified when he found a small bundle of flowers on his desk a few days later from the student he saved.

The team slowly began to get a little worried for him when he began gushing about his students around base and keeping their little gifts. When questioned he had nothing but praise for his students and in the end the team just let him be. Optimus still did the work that was needed of him around base, so why argue with him when he was far happier than any of the team had seen him in centuries. Ratchet did warn Optimus not to get attached, but by that point it was far too late if the small pile of thank you gifts and other assorted thing piled on Optimus's workstation was any indicator.

His students didn't know, but he adored their gifts. Gifts were special on Cybertron, and so for every gift he received, he returned. His little archivists were in his own mind, the best. As such when Megatron made his reappearance two years later just as his first batch of students were graduating, Optimus was actually angry.

How dare the fragger turn up and put his little archivists in danger!? It was unforgivable, especially when because of Megatron's actions, three of his students turned up at base and Optimus had to try not to sputter. Jack, Miko, and Rafael, his three most invested students when it came to Cybertronian culture. What started as a harmless little subject quickly had the children connecting the dots when it came to the team.

They thought what Mr. Pax was teaching them was rooted from Cybertronian influence, perhaps from him unearthing something from Cybertron long ago. They didn't know that Optimus was the one teaching them and still turning up to classes part time every other day after Megatron returned. How was he supposed to not get attached even more when he lived two lives, one as Mr. Pax the history teacher and one as Optimus Prime, the leader of the Autobots, both of which interacted with the children?

Optimus: Jack, have you turned in your school work for the week yet?

Jack: No... I've been having some trouble with glyphs.

Optimus: Oh? What are you learning?

Jack: My history teacher Mr. Pax has been teaching up about a long dead civilization that seems to have been influenced by you bots. He's been teaching us the language they used.

Ratchet: *glaring at Optimus* Oh really? I would love to hear more about it.

Miko: Yeah! The glyphs are boring, but Mr. Pax also taught us dances! See, look! *proceeds to perform a dance from central Iacon*

Bulkhead: Wait, isn't that a dance used by the-

Optimus: *holding a servo over Bulkhead's mouth* The ancient civilization I assume?

Miko: Yep! Its super fun!

Rafael: Mr. Pax also taught us how to speak the old language. I think I am fairly proficient. *proceeds to speak fluent ancient cybertronian*

Arcee: What the frag!?

Ratchet: I do believe we need to have a talk Optimus.

[fandomofhappiness]

So, I know it’s kind of nerdy for My Hero Academia to make this research but I’m being very curious about UA Teaching Staff. According to translations of class 1-A school schedule (made by aitaikimochi) we have at least 7 lessons of English at one studying week (6 days) for only one class.

So, if we consider Yamada Hizashi aka Present Mic working as an only teacher for only HERO COURSE which are 6 classes with 120 students (more or less depending on how many students Aizawa or other teacher expelled) with DIFFERENT types of difficulty (English and English 1), and plus, we assume that he teaches all 6 classes for 7 lessons a week, it means 42 lessons at week. The lessons long for 50 minutes (50 mins x 7 lessons = 350 mins or ~5,8 hours a day). It results that he works for 35 hours per week. But okey, teachers need to have lunch, so he takes a 50 mins to eat. But do not forget hours to check students’ works, mark them, write reports on all his students, add out-of-school schoolwork and etc. Approximately, he works for 38-40 hours at week. That all means he practically lives at UA for 6 days.

The question is how he works at Radio Station at Friday (if he works there only at Friday!) and patrolling as limelight hero, having interviews, podcasts and other media activities?

All these calculations cover his job as an ONLY and ONLY English teacher for ONLY Hero Course. He physically cannot work as English teacher for other Courses.

So it means we have a LOT more staff at UA. And if we assume that we need like 4 teachers (1 for each course), it still too much because Hizashi teaches for only 6 classes, and there like 9 classes each other Course (and it’s like 53 hours per week) — it’s fucking impossible. So we need at least 6 teachers only to teach ENGLISH. Did you count Mathematics? It’s 8 classes for class 1-A on week. And I don’t think that Ectoplasm really teaches that much. And do not forget about Homeroom teachers (we need 33 Homeroom teachers, but ok they are working as subject teachers too).

So let’s count together how many teachers are actually working at UA. And do not forget to add teacher’s assistants. It’s so crazy.

(There’s no way UA is a private school without any government help, because school would go broke only on teachers :D )

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Remember You Even When I Don't (8)

Summary: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement.

Words: 5.5K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw/Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed oc)

Warnings: angst, hospitals, memory loss, language, suggestive themes, smut

Notes: Please note the updated warnings. These next few chapters are a new stage of Bradley and Pumpkin growing back together, and while I'm very excited about it, I know it may not be for everyone. For everyone who sticks around, please continue to comment and reblog, and my inbox is always open! I love to talk about these two :)

This was inspired by a one shot by the lovely @roosterforme and would not exist without her assistance. If you haven't read any of her stuff, please check out her masterlist - you won't be disappointed! All of the thanks to her and @mak-32 for being the best cheerleaders and friends I could ask for!

-------

You’re working today. You hadn’t wanted to, but a local congresswoman you had requested an interview with months ago finally agreed to a conversation in her office, and Bradley wouldn’t let you pass it up. It was only for a few hours, but he finds himself missing you while you’re gone. 

This is the first time he had really been alone in the house for a long period of time since he got back from the hospital a month ago, and he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He had tried to read a book, or get lost in a movie, but nothing had really kept his attention. He was laying on the couch, the news on the tv in the background, aimlessly scrolling through his phone. He hadn’t fully dove into all that it contained, and he figured now was the time to do it, even if you weren’t here to answer any questions that he might have. 

It’s interesting, seeing himself this way. Groupchats where he was an active participant, talking about parties or plans he has no recollection of, or discussing flight schedules for the week. He swaps Star Wars and Harry Potter trivia with Fanboy and gym regimes with Hangman and sends music back and forth with Coyote.  

When he opens the text thread he has with you, the only one pinned to the top of his messages, his breath catches at the last message received. 

 I love you so much. Please don’t leave me.

It was sent the day of his accident, and he knew by the time stamp that it was sent after the crash. You must have texted that to him while you were waiting for news on his condition, and not for the first time, he feels both guilt and gratitude go through him; he’s so sorry that he’s hurt you like this, but he’s so glad he’s here now. 

He scrolls for a while, reading you rambling to him about your work day and bouncing ideas for articles off of him, jumping from one topic to the next while you know he’s in the air or teaching a class so he doesn’t have his phone on him. Based on his responses that come later on, he knows he never minded the almost nonsensical messages. Even now, he finds it adorable and enjoys reading through them. There are conversations about dinner and what true crime documentary the two of you were going to watch that weekend. 

There’s a little bit of everything in these messages between the two of you, but his brow furrows when he gets to a point about a week before his accident. 

I’m on my way home, he had texted you, You better be ready for me, Pumpkin. 

He scrolls further up, trying to find the beginning of the conversation that led to that, and he almost wishes he wouldn’t have. 

You had texted him earlier that morning, when he barely must have left the house to go to base, a picture of you. There was a playful smirk on your lips, and you had what looked to be the cap from his formal dress whites perched crooked on your head. That in and of itself wasn’t what made his breath hitch, though. It was the fact that you were still in bed, your arm draped over your chest where he could see everything but everything, you hanging onto only a single shred of decency. 

Fly well today, Lieutenant Commander. 

It had descended into a day full of teasing from there, each message dirtier than the one before. Descriptions of what you wanted him to do to you and him warning you of what he would do when he got his hands on you. He feels flushed all over, but he keeps scrolling up. He bypasses recipes you wanted his opinion on and a reminder of what the Hulu password was, and eventually finds more pictures. Some are more risque than others, but all of them make him feel like the temperature in the room rose by multiple degrees. 

There’s a tickle in his brain again, and he finds himself closing the messaging app and going to his photo albums. There’s a locked album there, and he knows, he just knows what it’s going to contain. 

He shouldn’t. He knows that he shouldn’t. It feels like a strange invasion of privacy. But he’s wracking his mind to try and remember what the code would be to get into it anyway, and he curses when he gets it wrong first once, then a second time. He enters your birthday on the third attempt and groans out loud when he’s immediately met with the filthiest images he’s ever seen. 

It’s a whole gallery of you, or the two of you together, and Bradley can’t stop himself from looking. He bites his lip as he takes in the photos, his mind so overrun with thoughts of how fucking stunning you are that he can barely think straight at all. 

He stops at one in particular, clicking to enlarge it, and loses all thoughts entirely. Neither of your faces are in it, but he doesn’t need to guess that it’s the two of you. You’re sitting back against his chest, his ankles hooked over your legs, forcing them wide for him. He can see your nails biting into his thighs, but it’s his own hand that draws his attention. With the hand that’s not taking the selfie style photo, his fingers are gliding through the wetness gathered between your legs. You shine against the dark wedding band on his left land, one that’s noticeably absent from his finger now. He’s practically panting as he stares. 

He’s so hypnotized by the way the two of you look together that he doesn’t hear the garage door open or the sound of you walking into the house. 

“Baby?” 

Your voice makes him jump so high that his phone goes flying out of his hand, a curse leaving his lips. He scrambles to pick it up when he sees you reaching for it as well, and your eyebrows are raised high as you look at him in surprise. 

“Hey,” his voice cracks, higher pitched than normal, and he blushes. Your eyebrows raise a little bit higher. “Hi, sorry. Didn’t hear you come in.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yup,” he nods, faking a cough so he could try to clear his throat, his face flushed. “Totally fine.” 

It’s not difficult to see how skeptical you are, and it’s hard for him to maintain eye contact with you and not let his eyes flicker down your body now that he has an idea of what rests underneath the smart dress you wore. 

You eye him suspiciously, “Are you sure?”  

He contemplates for a moment, trying to figure out a way to get himself out of this conversation, because the longer you looked at him like that the hotter he became under the collar. He took a deep breath, nodding again. 

“I was looking at messages and pictures,” he says all in one breath, not liking the idea of completely lying to you. He rationalized that a different version of the truth was okay, even as the pictures flashed in his mind again. “Trying to see if anything jogged my memory.” 

You search his eyes, and he tries his best to appear innocent, willing the hardening in his jeans to go down before you took notice. He suspected you already might have from the hint of a blush on your cheeks. “Did it?” 

If he thought hard enough he swore he could almost feel you. Your back against his chest, how soft your inner thighs left. How warm your wetness felt against his fingers as he took you to the edge. 

“No,” he stutters out after a moment, shaking his head, his face burning, “nothing yet.” 

________

He finds himself rubbing his thumb against the fading tan line on his left ring finger, something he had seen you do time and time again. He hadn’t really wondered up until this point where his ring was, but ever since he saw the picture with it so clearly against your skin, he couldn’t get it out of his head. 

He’s helping you in the kitchen a few days later, mesmerized as always by how efficient and easy you made everything look. You roll your eyes when he comments on it.

“It’s cookies, Bradley. Nothing fancy.”

“But they’re from scratch. The dough isn’t pre-made. That’s fancy!” 

You laugh at him in response, shaking your head. You take the rings on your left hand off, sitting them beside the sink as you wash your hands before the two of you get started. It raises the subject back to the forefront of his mind. He had been desperate to ask you for the last few days, but hadn’t built up the courage to do it. But he can almost feel it on his finger now, can feel a ghost of your fingers as you slide it into place, and it’s suddenly more of a need to know. 

“Can I uh…can I ask you something?” 

“Of course.” 

“What happened to my wedding ring?” 

You pause from where you’re cracking an egg into the mixing bowl, your eyebrows raised high. You set it down gently, turning to face him. 

“Does it bother you…that I wear mine, still?” 

“No!” he insists, hating even the idea of you taking it off. “It doesn’t bother me at all. I promise. We just have never acknowledged mine? I know that I wear one - I remember wearing one, and I’ve seen it in pictures, too.” 

“You love your ring,” you tell him softly, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he says, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. But you give him a small smile, though he can see the pain in your eyes, and shake your head. 

“You don’t fly with it on,” you explain, “you tried, at first, but you had been flying so long without anything on your hands that you couldn’t get used to it being there when you were operating the controls.” 

He thinks for a moment and the words come to him slowly. “You were the one who told me to start taking it off when I fly.” 

“I was.” 

“Why?”

Your lips quirk and you shrug. “I’m more worried about you flying safely than wearing your ring at all times. You keep it in one of the pockets of your flight suit when you go up in the air now.” 

Of course you were more worried for him. He should have expected nothing less from you and the way you effortlessly care for him. He can also picture that, he thinks. It’s easy to imagine not wanting to be separated from the physical reminder that he belongs to you, so even if he couldn’t wear it, he’d at least have it on him, in the inner chest pocket right above his heart. 

“So..” He doesn’t quite know how to ask his question, but you must read it on his face. 

You twist your own ring on your finger in the way you always seemed to do to center yourself. Pain flashed across your face and Bradley knew you were remembering, too. “They uh..they had to cut your flight suit off, before you went into surgery. You weren’t breathing and were bleeding…” you cut yourself off, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking the visual from your head. “But it was still in your pocket. So. I have it.” 

He sets down the bag of chocolate chips he had been holding and walks the few steps to where you’re standing at the counter. When he holds his arms open, you don’t hesitate to step into them. He presses a kiss to the top of your head as he breathes in your scent. 

“I’m so sorry I put you through that,” he whispers into the strands of your hair, and he feels the way you squeeze him in response. 

“You’re okay now,” you speak into his chest, and he thinks he might feel you press a kiss there, directly over the spot where that inner pocket of his flight suit would be, where he kept you when he had no other choice. 

The two of you stand there wrapped up together for a long moment. When you lift your head, your eyes are glassy, but you give him a smile and a small kiss to his lips. 

Later, after the cookies have been made and devoured, you join him on the back porch. You had taken to sitting on the swing together and when you sit beside him tonight, he sees you rolling something between your fingers. His breath catches when he sees exactly what it is. You’re staring at it too, your gaze intense and pondering. He doesn’t speak, not quite knowing what to say. Eventually, you break out of your haze and meet his eyes. 

“You don’t have to put it back on,” you tell him, holding your hand out to him. His wedding band sits on your palm, shining against your skin. For a moment he sees you in white standing right in front of him, wildflowers in your hair.  

His fingertips brush yours when he takes it from you, admiring the piece of jewelry he wasn’t aware that he missed until it was back in his possession. 

“But it’s yours. I want - I want you to have it.”

He rolls it between his fingers, contemplating for a moment. He swallows, suddenly overcome with emotion he hadn’t seen coming and that tingling that’s starting to become familiar to him. You had picked it out yourself and he knows when he looks, he’ll see an engraving of your initials beside his. He was always so proud to be able to wear this, knowing that it symbolized being with you, a small way of telling anyone who saw it that he was lucky enough to be your husband. 

But he wasn’t him - not yet, not completely. Everyday brought him closer to thinking that he could be, though.

“Pumpkin, I…” he trailed off, not sure what to say. 

“Hey,” you murmur, cupping his cheek and turning his head to meet your eyes. You didn’t look mad, or upset, and you’re giving him the gentlest, kindest look anyone ever had. But your eyes didn’t hold pity or sympathy either - just a trust and love that he’s still not sure what he could have ever done to deserve. “Whenever you’re ready. And if you never are-” 

“I will be,” he cut you off; he wanted nothing more than to be ready. “I just…I still have something to prove to myself.” 

You nod, and Bradley leans forward to kiss you softly. He leaves his forehead pressed against yours when he pulls away, relishing in the calm you brought him. 

“I’ll get there,” he says, “I promise.” 

—------

He’s spent time alone, but he hasn’t spent time away from you with other people. He’s hesitant to accept the invite from Mav to visit the hanger he had here. But planes and his godfather had been a staple of Bradley’s childhood, an influence on his whole life, really. He had been cleared to drive earlier in the week, so that Saturday, he leaves early. He’s anxious at the thought of being away from you but he knows that the him from before wouldn’t have said no to the invitation and he was so determined to get back to who that was. And he knows that you have a life outside of taking care of him, too. You’re getting brunch with Nat and Coyote’s wife later and he knows you’re excited, even if you hung onto him a little bit longer than a normal hug when he said goodbye. You had made him promise that he would call you if he needed anything and the whole way to the desert, his fingers twitched, wanting to call you just to hear your voice. 

Mav greets him with a large smile and a tight hug, “I’m glad you could make it.” 

“Me too,” Bradley says. He means it, even if he does miss you already. He looks around the hanger, taking note of the few planes and motorcycles throughout the long stretch. It was a lot more than the collection he had when Bradley was 17. “What are we working on today?” 

Mav gives him his signature grin. “I want to show you something.” 

He follows him to the end of the hanger, where a large blue tarp is covering what can’t be anything but a plane. His godfather gestures to it. Bradley raises an eyebrow but walks up to it, grabbing hold of the tarp and yanking it back. Like he suspected, he’s greeted by a Cessna. It’s a classic 172 by the looks of it, a smaller four seater. It’s a sleek white in color with subtle burnt orange line work. Bradley whistles. It was beautiful in a way that only planes like this could be. 

“When’d you get this one?” 

Mav smirks, shaking his head. “I didn’t.” 

“What?” 

“Take a look at the other side.” He nods his head, urging Bradley forward. Confused and intrigued, he follows the instructions, walking around to the other side of the small plane. He gets what Mav was saying, then, and sucks in a breath. Right there emblazoned on the side, in an elegant script, was Pumpkin.

This wasn’t Mav’s plane; it was his. 

“You got her about six months ago,” he says softly when he joins him at his side. 

Bradley reaches up and runs his fingers over the name. It’s foggy, but he thinks he can remember now. He had always wanted to own his own plane since the first time his godfather took him up in one at 6 years old. It was always a pipedream, though. He was never in one place for long enough, and while he was generally good with saving money, it was a bigger purchase than he had ever made. But then the two of you got married and a permanent station here in California. Between both of your savings and what he still had of his parents life insurance, the funds were there. It was you who had made the suggestion of finally pulling the trigger, and it was him who had suggested a four seater instead of a two seater so that if the two of you ever had children, you could all fly together. You cried when he showed you the name he had painted on it. 

“Still needs some work done before she’s flyable. I thought maybe you’d want to work on it today.” 

An eager smile appears on his face and he nods, already peeling his jacket off and heading toward the toolbox. If Mav noticed that he didn’t need to instruct him on where it was, he didn’t comment on it. 

The two work in tandem for hours. It had only been six weeks since his accident, but he couldn’t recall a time since flight school that he had gone this long without being near a plane and it felt good doing so again. It’s easy, getting into the rhythm of twisting bolts and tinkering with the engine wires. He thinks it won’t be long until he can get this cleared to go in the air and he knows without a doubt that you’re going to be the first passenger. 

His phone buzzes in the early afternoon and he doesn’t hesitate to put down the wrench he was working with and dig it out of his jeans pocket. You had sent him a selfie earlier when you had gotten to brunch, sunglasses on and a bright smile on your face with a mimosa in your hand, and he hoped it was another picture. His eyebrows furrow when he sees it’s Phoenix calling him, instead. He picks up, bringing the phone to his ear. 

“Nat?” 

“Your wife got stung by a bee. We’re on our way to the hospital.” 

He can feel the dread as it settles over him. His heart beats faster in his chest. “What?” 

She sighs on the other line, and he can hear commotion in the background. “She’s severely allergic, Rooster. We sat outside at brunch and we didn’t even realize it happened at first. She didn’t have her epipen on her so we had to call an ambulance. She’s going to be fine, but you should get here anyway, okay?” 

He feels like he can barely breathe, like the room is closing in on him a little bit. Mav must notice the panic written all over him because he’s quick to come over and take the phone out of his hand, taking over the conversation. He can barely hear him over the roaring in his head. You were hurt. He knew you were extremely allergic to bees. That was something he had remembered. You were supposed to carry an epipen on you at all times. He can’t remember if you’d ever gotten stung when he was there. He can’t remember how bad it got if you ever were. But now you were in the back of an ambulance and on your way to a hospital and he could feel his fear all the way down to his bones. 

“Bradley, hey. Look at me.” 

Mav is in front of him, hands gripping his shoulders. He meets his eyes and tries to breathe, but all he can see is you, struggling to catch a breath and being loaded into the back of an ambulance. 

“I’ll drive, okay? Let’s go.” 

He follows him to the car, not really calculating anything other than the fact that he was almost an hour away from you and what if there was traffic and why didn’t you have your epipen on you? 

“She’s going to be okay.” 

“But-” 

“Phoenix said the paramedics administered epi as soon as they arrived, and it didn’t take them long to get to her. She was awake and was already breathing easier when they left for the hospital. Didn’t even need to use the sirens.” 

That doesn’t make him feel better. Not really. Knowing that trained professionals weren’t panicking must have meant that you were okay, but he knows how serious anaphylaxis is, too. 

He can’t reconcile everything that he’s feeling right now. He has never, ever felt like this before. The thought of something happening to you is scarier than any mission he had ever been on, any enemy he had encountered in the air. 

“Mav I can’t - I can’t lose her. I just got her.” 

“You aren’t going to.” 

Bradley doesn’t say anything, can’t think of a single thing to say, and instead buries his head in his hands from his spot in the passenger seat. You were going to be okay. You had to be okay. Because he may not remember everything about the two of you, but he did know for certain that if something ever happened to you, he would never, ever recover from it. 

He doesn’t wait for Mav once they get to the hospital, the older man opting to drop him off at the front before going to find parking. He’s practically sprinting as he goes through the emergency room doors and vaguely, he remembers you telling him about the time this happened before, when you took yourself to the hospital and ended up needing surgery. He can almost feel that panic now, and it makes what he’s already feeling worse. 

“Can I help-“

“I’m looking for my wife. She was brought in because of a bee sting-“

“Sir-“

“She’s really allergic and-“

“Sir!” The nurse behind the counter snaps, raising her voice over his to get through to him. “I need your wife’s name if I’m going to find her for you.”

Oh. Yes, he thinks, your name. They need your name. 

It’s the first time he’s said your full name, and your first and his last name feel so right coming off his tongue. But he can’t focus on that right now, giving all of his attention to the nurse who is typing so slowly. 

Before she can even hit enter, though, he hears his callsign echo behind him. He spins, heart racing with anxiety, and spots Nat making her way over to him. She gives the annoyed nurse a kind, charming smile as she grabs Bradley by the arm 

“Sorry about him, ma’am. I got him from here.”

She pulls him away without another word, heading toward the hallway off the packed waiting room. 

“Is she okay? Nat, is-“

“She’s fine, Rooster. Coming down from the adrenaline rush that the epinephrine gave her, but she’ll be okay.”

“What about-“

Nat stops in front of a closed door, lowering her voice. “Bradley. She’s okay.” 

He’s pushing past her before she even finishes, spotting you on the bed through the glass and half drawn curtain. You look so small amongst the crinkly white sheets, still in the clothes you wore to brunch. Your makeup is a bit smudged and your eyes are red and he hates to think that you were scared enough to start crying. You’re holding an oxygen mask in your hand at your side. 

“Hi baby.” Even your voice sounds more pitched. He’s quick to make it to your side. 

Your breathing is slightly elevated, and the heart monitor is beating a little bit faster than he thinks is normal. He grabs the hand holding the mask, placing it over your mouth to start providing you with the supplemental air again. You make a small sound of surprise, but take in a deep breath of it anyway before pushing his hand away. 

“I’m okay.”

But your hands are shaking and your eyes are wider than normal. The skin that he can see is splotchy with hives. 

He looks back at Nat, who is still hovering in the doorway, an eyebrow arched and a small smirk on her face. He ignores the look. “Can you grab a doctor?”

You protest from the bed, but Bradley doesn’t waiver. With a fond roll of her eyes, Nat disappears from view. 

“Bradley. Sweetheart.” You grip his wrist, trying to get him to focus on you. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“You’re in the emergency room because you went into anaphylactic shock. You are not fine.” 

“But I am,” you insist, smiling softly at him, even as your body trembles as it works to burn through the adrenaline that was injected into it, “medicine worked just fine.” 

The door slides open before he can respond, an attending doctor who looks like he’s been up for longer than is healthy and in wrinkled green scrubs introducing himself as he walks in.

“Is she okay?” Bradley demands immediately, and the tired man looks startled for a moment at how abrupt the question was. Bradley stares at him, his eyes wide and unblinking as he waits for the answer. His heart is still pounding in his chest. He feels you tangle one of your hands with one of his and he squeezes back when he feels the pressure from you. He knows you’re trying to reassure him. 

“And you are…?” 

“I’m her husband,” he answers easily, the words falling off his tongue like he had said them a thousand times before. You suck in a small breath and tighten your grip on his hand again. 

“Ah,” the doctor hums, flipping through the chart he’s holding. Bradley wonders if all non-military hospitals move this slowly or if it was just because of how anxious he is at this moment, but he really, really needs him to answer his question. 

“Is she okay?” he repeats. 

“Bradley,” you murmur, but he keeps his eyes trained on the man in the scrubs and white coat. 

“She responded well to the epinephrine that was administered by the paramedics who brought her in,” he finally says, looking up from the chart and taking a step toward your side. He stops when he sees that Bradley doesn’t move an inch. He sighs, switching direction to go to your other side instead. “How are you feeling Mrs. Bradshaw?”

You answer his questions as they come, Bradley paying rapt attention the whole time. Your throat doesn’t feel tight anymore. You aren’t lightheaded, but you do feel a little shortness of breath. You feel jittery - wired, almost. You’re both assured that it’s completely normal as the drug works its way out of your system. They can give you something to try and calm you down, and they want you to stay for a few hours to make sure you don’t go back into the allergic reaction once the epinephrine has worn off. The thought makes his blood run cold. 

“Should she stay overnight?” he asks, but the doctor shakes his head no. 

“The standard observation timeslot should be just fine, Mr. Bradshaw. But we’ll make sure you both know what to look out for when you leave.” 

He walks out without saying much else. Bradley feels you tug on his hand, his name leaving your lips in a whisper. He meets your gaze and he watches as your eyes soften even more. 

“Sit down, honey.” 

He listens to you, dragging the chair beside your bed as close as possible. He rests his elbows on the mattress beside you, holding your hand tightly between both of his. 

“I’m okay,” you repeat again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your fingers and taking a deep breath. “I…this really scared me.” 

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” you say softly, running your thumb over one of the hands holding yours, soothing the skin and helping his racing heart. Your touch is like magic to him, providing an almost instant calm that he desperately needed. Guilt curled in his stomach, knowing that even now, you’re the one helping him. 

“I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around.” 

“We comfort each other, baby. That’s how this works.” 

“Why didn’t you have your epipen on you, Pumpkin? Don’t you normally carry it?” he asks quietly, a touch of urgency still in his tone. He couldn’t stop thinking about what would have happened if you were alone and this happened, with no one around to call 911. He could have lost you, all over a silly little bee sting, and he can’t wrap his mind around that. He just got you. He had had you, he knew. But he was just getting you back. 

“I switched bags this morning and forgot to take it out of the pocket of the old one, I guess. I haven’t had to use one since college. I forget about it, sometimes.” 

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to rid himself of the worst case scenarios. He’s the one that normally reminds you to always have it on you, he thinks. He vaguely recalls having a spare in the glove compartment of the Bronco, and in the drawer in the kitchen and maybe one in the bedroom, too. 

Not for the first time, he curses his memory and the accident that took it from him. 

When he opens his eyes, his look is intense, “Never again, okay?” 

“Okay,” you say, but Bradley shakes his head. 

“No. Promise me. Please?”

Your lips part and you stare at him for a long moment. His gaze never waivers from yours. He needs you to listen to him. To hear him. 

“I promise,” you finally whisper. 

He rises from the chair, pressing a kiss to your lips. He keeps his forehead against yours, breathing you in. 

“Will you lay with me?” You ask quietly, shy in a way reminiscent of when you asked him to say I love you on the porch all those weeks ago. He hates that you felt you even needed to ask. 

With no hesitation, he maneuvered himself into the small bed beside you. He kisses your forehead once, twice, three times, holding you as tightly as he could. Your body still gave the occasional tremble but they had lessened now, your breaths coming a little bit easier, and he felt the tightness in his chest ease. 

“Sorry for being a mess,” he whispers into your hair. 

“Don’t,” you whisper back, and he feels you shake your head from where it’s tucked into his chest. “It means you care.”

The words are there, right on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t say them, not yet or here. You deserve more than a frantic hospital room confession.

-------

Part Nine :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: I hope you liked this one! We're nearing the end, but I think everyone is really going to like the next chapter. Would love to hear any thoughts you may have :)

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[charlottecbordeaux]

At the bus terminal atm so decided to make a post about Caramel Macchiato while I’m waiting

(Last pic by @flowery-draws !)

[Caramel Macchiato Cookie]

Gender: Female

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 35

Pet: Mocha Kitten

Likes: Her pet, chocolate, “that women” stuff, working for her sleep deprived boss

Dislikes: Her past relationships (or bosses), “pretty privilege”, bugs (depends on the bug tho)

CRK type: Support/back rear

CRK skill name: “Precise Assist”

Speeds up teams skill cooldown by 5 seconds, increases crit, increases damage placed on enemy. Can be stacked (except cooldown).

CROB skill:

She picks up papers dropped on the floor while performing tasks accordingly by pressing the “task” button. After she collects the papers she passes them on to one of the coffee bean workers (or even sometimes Cappuccino Cookie. When he comes up she’ll give him the papers with a kiss to his cheek♥️)

{Description}

High heels, perfect posture, and her signature smile. There’s no assistance or secretary as perfect as Caramel Macchiato! She works and assists her tired sleep deprived boss making sure every court paper is as sharp as a knife while making sure he doesn’t faint due to all the work he’s doing. Rumor has it that she’s been an secretary for a couple of big companies! But why did she quit? No one will never know…

{Headcanons}

-She met Cappuccino at her day of job interview (it took place at Cappuccino’s favorite cafe because his office was a mess)

-She started to tease him after an accident that involved Cappuccino slipping on a cup and landing on Caramel. What she accidentally did when she tried to get up made Cappuccino fluster and something inside her click.

-She can’t swim (until Cappuccino taught her on one of their vacations together)

-All past jobs: front desk girl, secretary, assistant, any top job.

-After being with Cappuccino for a while she started to try and get him more healthy by giving him quick healthy foods to eat and water.

-She makes sure Cappuccino’s papers are PERFECT and that theirs no room for mistakes or things left out whatsoever.

-Recently also been self teaching herself about the law and sometimes asks Cappuccino to check her work or if she has a question

-Hate being treated like a pretty girl or having her work taken away from her because of her looks and gender.

-Current status with Cappuccino: Couple now taking turns living at each other’s house.

-Think of Miss Bellum from PPG. THATS HER.

{Lines}

“My name is Caramel Macchiato. How may I be of assistance?”

“Allow me to help you with that.”

“I do hope Mr. Prosecutor tries to cut off some of his cappuccino…”

ETC (still thinking of them)

(Yeah this is from @flowery-draws too AND it has her OC too!)

[lirational]

Grip

Yandere!Eirene x Reader

A/N: a quick idea I made in just a few minutes. Not beta’d

Warnings: Financial abuse, bondage, controlling and manipulative behavior, power imbalance, office sex. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT

Explicit content under the cut. Minors DNI.

The president of Quinn relishes control above all else.

For you, this fact could be seen since day one of your employment, when she made you answer a philosophical question that, to cut a long story short, would never be considered as a question in an interview by a long shot. In fact, at first, you were flattered, as the esteemed lady even deigned to carve a chunk of her time to speak to you, then afterwards, you walk out of the room with a dreadful inkling of what she could do with a snap of her fingers.

By the third day, you realize that she knew far more about you than an employer in a purely business relationship with you should be.

She finds ways to cut slices of your time, ensuring that you would spend more time with her than you do with your family and friends, citing knowledge of your schedule to render you unable to refuse. You could not afford to slight her, else you lose your income, and she was oh so glad to take advantage of it, the justification of you being her personal assistant who should stay by her side whenever she needed you rang hollow at the side of the unspoken threat she gave beneath cordial smiles and greedy glare.

Now, here you are.

“Excuse me, Miss Eirene,” the name tasted like ash on your tongue, and you fought with all your might against show your distaste despite it leaking as a clipped tone to your question, “was all this really necessary?”

“Of course,” Eirene answered, her tone even and relaxed, answer spoken with the tone of chastising someone for asking a question with such an obvious answer, “As your employer, I would like to help you thrive, and in this cutthroat world, you have to show only perfection.”

You opened your mouth, this close to say something to refute her, yet words fail you at that moment.

Underneath your neatly pressed shirt and below-knee skirt, a myriad of soft, silken ropes bind your limbs, your posture kept ramrod straight by a pole tied to your back. Similar mechanism bind your legs, hidden by your heels and skirt.

An image of perfection, made by binding you where the light could not touch.

Perhaps, worst of all, was the accessories nestled in between your legs, a soft plug embedded in your ass, while an egg-shaped vibrator pressed against your folds, linked to the remote controller Eirene was twirling between her slender fingers. They were placed in such a way even a slight shift in your posture would tug and pull at them, and considering your boss, she would not hesitate to humiliate you should you step a toe out of line.

“There was no need for these devices, Miss Eirene,” you press again, unable to keep the lilt of sarcasm out of your tone. “After all, this is a formal business meeting. It would not do if I make a mess and ended up staining your pristine reputation.”

Again, she smiled, full of venom, dangerous mismatched gaze raking hot coals onto your body. She stood up and locked you in an embrace, hands trailing the side of your body in an intimate gesture, not even caring how it jostled the mechanism she placed beneath your clothes. You let out a tiny whimper, the act punished with a press of the remote, and Eirene whispered into your ear, lips brushing on your earlobe as you bite down your lower lip, afraid of her punishment.

“Then let them be, a slight mistake from you would not sway my control over those old crones. Rather than that, I see it as a better use of my time to teach you how to behave,”

You were no idiot, you know how dangerous it is to entertain your boss’ whimsy beyond this. Her threat never rang hollow, and you have seen enough to know when to stop.

However, as you were about to voice your understanding, she claimed your mouth, a bite and a pull at your hair a clear demand for you to allow her entrance. She was all too quick to tangle your tongue in a cruel dance to display her status, not allowing you even a breath in before black began to dot your vision. Only then did she release you, and you let out an involuntary whine, the act jostling the toys too much for your liking.

You were far too close to making a mess right then and there.

“Now, (name), give me a great show.”

—

You were not even allowed the dignity to allow your expressions to run free.

You know this place had little difference from a den full of sharks, and you had to measure every movement, lest people would notice your state. Hidden by your heels, you curl your toes as you stand, fingers trembling in a desperate grip at your laser pointer until you feel the slight give of something cracking.

Like your sanity, you note, not even with a trace of humor.

You were lucky you had practiced your speech, and now, almost everything was muscle memory, allowing you to retreat into your mind and keep any signs of arousal away from showing on you. In the corner of your sight, you could see your boss twirling the remote that threatens to drown you in shame when you allow yourself to give in, yet, you hold steady, even as the vibrator’s speed slid up and down without a discernible pattern, bringing you this close into collapsing.

Despite how your knees shook beneath your dress, the silken bonds beneath your skirt held you still, allowing you to finish the presentation without throwing your dignity to the winds. Though your insides ached with need, allowing you to retreat to your own mind was perhaps the greatest mistake your boss made in this quest to humiliate you.

You were relieved when the far, far too slow ticking clock finally showed that the meeting has come to an end.

The last person who exited the room became your cue to pack your things, eager to leave before the source of your torment decided that she needed to play you like a god-damned puppet on strings—

However, you were stopped by dainty fingers grabbing on your shoulder, flipping you over to face the mismatched eyes that haunt your nightmares. With a force seemingly impossible from such a slender woman, she pinned you down on the table, the feel of something poking you from beneath her skirt made all the more apparent from your position.

Adrenaline jolted your body, yet, it was futile - restraints beneath clothing not allowing you to muster enough force to repel the woman. If anything, your struggles only serve to cause her lips to curl into a scimitar-like cruel smile.

To your horror, your hips buck towards the stimulation, desperation clawing at the edge of your mind.

It was then, you were reminded with horror.

The president of Quinn relishes control above all else.

Your mistake was thinking that your semblance of resistance would throw a wench in her plans.

[hopefulromances]

Long Time Coming - Prolouge

Summary: Being hired as the first female assistant coach in the league was a challenge in of itself. Being a football protigy and University Football Legend was easy enough. Coaching Jamie Tartt was a challenge all on its own.

Word Count: 1090

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, no knowledge of how football works? First person. Minimal y/n use. Based on an OC fic I'm currently posting on AO3 so

A/N: Am I joining tumblr again to write Jamie Tartt fanfiction? Now that's an interesing question. Hope you enjoy.

I didn’t know quite what to expect when I started at Richmond. I was coming on as the first female assistant coach in the league. Something of a prodigy myself, I graduated from university early after leading our women’s football team to the championship three times. I worked as a kitman (or kit woman) for some teams in the Championship league until I saw the opening at Richmond and decided to throw my hat in the ring. Never in a million years did I actually think I would get an interview, much less a job offer.

But somehow, I ended up walking up the stairs to Rebecca Welton’s office, bright and early for my first day. I stood outside the closed door and too a breath, centering myself, before reaching for the handle. To my surprise, the door opened before I could touch it. The door opened to reveal Ted Lasso, the head manager of Richmond.

            “Oh! Hello there!” He greeted with an inviting smile.

            “Oh, my goodness, I’m sorry, I’m here to see- “

            “Rebecca Welton,” the woman emerged from behind Ted, bearing her own polite smile. “And you must be (Y/N), our new Assistant Coach.”

I gave her my own polite smile and reached out to shake her hand. “That’s me. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Welton.”

            “Well! What a surprise, it’s great to meet my new partner in crime, I’m Ted Lasso, nice to meet you.” He took my outstretched hand in a firm handshake.

I had read up on Ted Lasso. The American Football coach who was flying in all the way from Kansas to teach football in the Premiere League. Yet somehow, all that research could not have prepared me for what I was meeting.

            “Coach Lasso! Yes, it’s great to meet you. I look forward to working with you.” I maintained my level of professionalism, but he waved me off.

            “Please, call me Ted. My father was Coach Lasso,” he told me.

            “Was he really?” I asked, surprised.

            “No, but that would have been a great coincidence if he was,” he joked, with a smile.

I stared at him, not quite sure how to respond.

            “We were just heading on a tour,” Rebecca broke the silence, “would you like to join us?”

And that was how I ended up on a tour of the facility with Ted and Rebecca. She took us through the halls of history of the club, passing the faces of the team. Including, one, Jamie Tartt. Jamie Tartt was all the football industry could talk about of late. The young star who couldn’t seem to miss, and who stole the hearts of all those who watched him. Yeah, he was fit. And as much as I tried not to, I couldn’t help but let him steal mine as well.

I wanted to hate him. I really did. He was everything I was. Young, talented, eager. But because he was a man, he was able to get fame and fortune because of it. That kind of thing just didn’t happen for women. The women’s league didn’t get nearly the same notoriety as the men’s did and even if I scored twice as many goals as Jamie Tartt, I would never leave the same legacy he did.

So yeah, I wanted to hate him just because he was famous. But I couldn’t. Something about his stupid cocky smirk, and the way he seemed to understand the balls every move before he could even touch the ball. It was impressive. Of course, it didn’t go unnoticed to me that he was dating Keely Jones. A gorgeous model, just like all the other women he’d been seen with. He wouldn’t look twice at me. You were staring at his face for so long you didn’t realize that Ted and Rebecca were staring at you, expectantly.

“Oh, sorry, what?”

Ted’s eyes danced quickly between Jamie’s photo and you. But if he suspected anything, he didn’t dare to comment as he brought you back into the conversation.

            “Do you believe in ghosts?”

The rest of the day went by rather quickly. After the tour, Rebecca led you and Ted to a disastrous press conference that ended early, much to my own gratitude. I wasn’t sure I was ready to talk to press yet. I wasn’t ready to be a poster woman for my gender across the league. I just wanted to coach football. But luckily, after the press conference we were allowed to go watch practice.

That was what I was excited for. To watch the lads, play football. I had watched football for as long as I could remember. I grew up in Richmond. My family could never afford to go to games, but we watched every single match, good or bad. Now here I was, going to coach the team that I grew up loving. It was almost unreal.

            “So! Where are you from?” Ted asked as we made our way to the pitch.

            “I actually grew up here,” I told him with a smile. “I’ve been a greyhound’s fan since I was a girl. My dad loved the game.”

            “Well, I’ll be!” Ted exclaimed. “He must be mighty proud of you then.”

“Yeah, he was!” I responded, my smile fading slightly.

We made it onto the pitch just as the boys were scrimmaging. My eyes were immediately drawn to the legendary, Roy Kent. He was a legend for sure, and the way he commanded the field certainly lived up to said legend. But eventually my eyes landed on Jamie Tartt just as he was doing a trick shot to hit the ball off the top of the goal. God, he was amazing.

As Ted and Coach Beard headed back inside, I decided to greet the boys as they came back inside. As Jamie approached, I stepped forward, wanting to introduce myself. He was good, very good, but I knew that he could be even better. With a bit of teamwork, I was certain that he could become the best in the league.

            “Hi, Jamie. I’m (Y/N) and I just wanted to say that-"

He brushed right past me, shoving his water bottle into my hands.

            “Thanks,” he dismissed, not even turning around.

I stood there, water bottle in my hands, mouth agape. Maybe hating him would be easier than I thought.

[thisismeracing]

https://www.tumblr.com/thisismeracing/736462766873919488/bonoreader-head-canons-cont-for-real-this?source=share

“used to glue her stickers on cars when people weren't looking. one time seb raced with an ariel sticker and some hearts on his car;”

imagine one day bon makes it over to the haas garage w/ a metric shit ton of stickers, a glue stick, and a dream

she slightly kidnaps the mag baby, sets her down on the floor and proceeds to teach this girl how to glue stickers on her dad’s car. she peels a sticker from one of the many sheets and takes the glue stick and puts some glue on the backside, and while doing so she is explaining the steps as if she was leading an aero meeting and sticks it on the car. then she assists miss laura with putting her first sticker on her dad’s car

but before she can watch her do more she’s called back to the merc garage, and goes to leave but not without the gentle encouragement that laura was doing a great job and should keep sticking the stickers and a small kiss on her head

maybe an hour after she left haas posts a picture of laura looking up at the camera, sitting on the ground with the sticker sheets and glue stick in hand, and a good ¼ of kev’s sidepod covered in stickers captioned: i wonder who could’ve taught her this

and merc in response posts a pic of bon doing the same thing from the brawn gp days and its captioned: i wonder who

and then all the other teams dig out the sticker pics of bon from their archives because this girl was a menace with these sticker

no car or team were safe from a sticker bomb

the redbull-ferrari sticker war has got nothing ont his girl

and when she’s questioned about it in an interview later that weekend all she responds with is: “traditions” smiles and leaves

☕️

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kjsafkjskfjsf but this thot is actually so heart warmingly cute!!

[anashins]

hi mina, happy new year! starting off 2023 good through sending u a request!! i dunno if you have done this but can i request idol!jaehyun x actress!reader? but rather than reader who's fangirling over him, it's the other way around. like jh has been watching reader's works, praised her acting n recommends few of her works n stuff on live. so when they get paired tgt for a drama, they make such a cute couple both off and on screen, constantly giving compliments to e/o, etc., the rest is yours to tell!! thank you!!

(this is my manifestation of actor jaehyun to make a comeback in 2023, hopefully 🥲)

Pairing: idol!Jaehyun x actress!reader

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 1k

A/N: HNY, dear! Let's manifest actor!Jaehyun in a romantic role that makes us all swoon 😍

“You did well - J.”

You twisted the card in your hands, inspecting the front and the back, but not much else information had been sent along with the flowers that had waited for you in the dressing room on your last day of shooting. 

It was normal for actors to get flowers and gifts once they finished filming, but you usually knew who sent them - staff, crew, friends, family members. There wasn’t a person in your narrow circle of acquaintances starting with the letter ‘J’ and not having written their full name on the cards except for the mysterious sender of the pink peonies. 

Out of all flowers, they were your favorite ones, that much they knew.

“Do you know who sent them?” you asked your assistant, but she also only shrugged.

“They got brought in with all the other gifts.” She paused and then widened her eyes as though she got hit by a sudden realization. “I bet it’s Jaehyun! How funny would that be?”

You blinked still in confusion. “Who?”

“Jaehyun from NCT. The one you’re shooting your next drama with? The lead? Hello?”

“Ah, you mean Jeong Yuno. I don’t perceive him as the idol he is. Under his real name, he’s only my co-actor.” 

You were only a casual listener to k-pop, but of course you knew NCT. When you had first gotten casted for this new coming of age drama, you were so happy to finally do something that wasn’t targeted to teens only that you didn’t care much about who the lead was, that was how much you trusted the respectful director. When it was announced that Jaehyun from NCT would do his second drama alongside you in this challenging project, you had been initially doubtful. He was an idol, not an actor, and idol dramas had quite the reputation you didn’t want to live up to. You hoped he too.

“I saw his Instagram live yesterday.” Your assistant was a certified fan with her bias being Doyoung. “He recommended your newest release and encouraged his fans to look forward to this one. He’s certainly such a fanboy of yours.”

“... he did?” You looked at the flowers and the card again. “He certainly got a lot of praise for his first drama.”

“I told you so!”

You allowed yourself to smile, getting caught up in a wishful thought that your assistant could be right and the flowers came from him, although you hadn’t even met personally yet. He was indeed very handsome, and from what you had seen, kind and respectful too, certainly a nice lead to act alongside with.

“Are we getting flattered, y/n?” she teased.

“No way!” you defended yourself. “Could be anyone else too. Quite a few celebs recommend my works, it probably has nothing to do with him.”

“Whatever you say, but that’s my guess.”

____

“Jaehyun, how was your experience working alongside y/n for your newest drama? She’s praised as the greatest actress of this generation.”

Jaehyun looked at the interviewer. He had been booked today for a photoshoot and an article with this magazine, of course questions about his latest work were inevitable. 

“She certainly is,” he answered. “She’s been in the industry since she was a child, so she has a lot of experience and could teach me many things since this is my second drama only. We practiced our scenes together a lot, so that the director would be satisfied and not many re-shoots were needed. She’s a capable and helpful co-actress.”

“What was an incident that stuck with you while filming?”

“One day, I came in sick, but we really needed to close this certain scene at the venue. Y/n waited for me with a thick blanket in which she wrapped me once I finished filming so that I wouldn’t be too cold. Aside from being a great actress, y/n is a great person too, always looking out for others.”

Jaehyun knew the last sentence was probably pushing it, but he got a kick out of it, wondering how much of it could make it through the editing process since he had read through the internet as well. Most of his fans were head over heels for such facts that supported their fictional ship. Truth to be told, he hadn’t expected such a positive reception, especially since they had quite a few kissing scenes too. 

“Okay…” The interviewer raised his brow over Jaehyun’s open attitude.  “You once admitted you were a fan of y/n or better say her works, even before shooting the drama. While filming, it was quite obvious that you got along well, not only during your scenes together, but also privately as you constantly talked and joked around. Would you say the fondness you had developed for each other on screen transferred to off screen? Fans would certainly be delighted. They even refer to you as the next Song couple.”

“This is not an appropriate question,” the manager interrupted. “I would ask you to stick to the questions approved beforehand.”

“Yes, but only this additional one… y/n recently got spotted wearing a shirt you once wore as well that wasn’t even produced by the designer anymore and was a bit too large for her. How can you explain this?”

“Please stick to the approved questions,” the manager chided again, obviously ready to throw hands.

“With an occupation in the entertainment industry, not as an idol but now also as an actor, I wouldn’t have so much time for a relationship,” Jaehyun cleared up. “In the future, I would like to continue concentrating on drama roles while simultaneously giving my best to contribute to the group. Please look forward to NCT’s comeback next month.”

“Thank you, Jaehyun.”

____

When Jaehyun had finished his last schedule for the day, he got into the car. It was already dark outside, but he still pulled out his phone to dial a certain number. She picked up right after the first ring.

“Listen…” he began and sighed, “I know you like wearing my clothes. But can you please not pick out one from years ago that people might recognize? They are sharp-eyed.”

She giggled at the other end of the phone. “I’m sorry, it looked so cozy. Are you already on your way?”

“Yes. See you in a few. I brought a gift.”

On the seat next to him, there was a bouquet of pink peonies.

[monsieuroverlord]

NYX #1 Thoughts:

It was alright, very Kamala/Ms. Marvel and Sophie-focused. It was a decent set up of the premise, and I'll keep an eye on it.

Spoilers:

The Krakoan is Julian Keller/Hellion as everyone called it. Just in case anyone missed the leaks on Twitter.

Him and the rest of Cuckoos are apparently working with Empath, and the current implication is that he may be amping up and/or twisting their post-Krakoa emotions.

Anole, we didn't see much of, other than he's a bartender now.

Not only is David teaching, but he's also a tenure-track professor.

As someone who works for an American university, I'd be so curious to see how that happened. I mean, at least for the department I work for (very research-heavy stem field), its a LOT to negotiate tenure-track, even with years of experience and a Ph.D. Its like a 3-4 day marathon of presentations, wining-and-dining, meetings after meetings, tours, and a red-eye flight back home. You basically gotta meet everyone in our department and not only show that you know what you're talking about, but also that you won't be an asshole to the established professors (I know this, because I'm the one assisting in organizing everything and making sure the right faculty shows up on time to give a lab tour to the applicant, lol)

I think in some areas, you can get away with an M.S. degree for tenure, but in most cases, its Ph.D.

And that doesn't even mean you are guaranteed to get tenure. There's a whole other review process for that.

Anyway, Sophie is right to call it out here. It does kinda feel like a hand-out. I wonder if that will come into play later?

I'd like to see David's point of view first, though. Maybe there's a secret plot where some of the faculty are evil and its an anti-mutant trap to lure him into a false sense of security. But he's too smart for that and plays them. I don't know.

Or maybe he got his P.h.D. That'd be dope.

I don't trust David's new boyfriend. He hasn't said much yet, but I don't trust him.

This issue is heavily focused on Kamala's point of view, and strongly features Sophie as well. It makes sense, as Kamala is the "newer mutant" in a sense, and serves well to introduce the reader to the setting and potentional storylines to follow.

Sophie and Kamala also have a budding friendship, and I think it's very cute.

I think the next issue at least is supposed to shift to Laura's point of view.

We also don't see too much of Laura, and she didn't appear to be in the college class? Maybe she joins later, or is a guest speaker, I don't know. OR maybe she's going undercover?!?!

We did get this pretty image on the opening page:

Laura only runs into Kamala while she's investigating a mutant terrorist attack.

I love her new look so much. It's very fashionable and actually makes her look distinct from Logan while she's still clearly a Wolverine. Props to the designer.

And now Marvel needs to free Akihiro from Hellverine psuedo-death-ressurection and give him a unique outfit and/or codename too. Thank you.

Laura really only says this though:

I don't know how I feel about her characterization here. I mean, its not the worst thing, but it lacks context for me.

I mean, what is Laura doing? Where is Gabby? Is Akihiro still dead and she's surly with grief? (because Hellverine hasn't finished yet and we don't know how that will end) Does she feel like she has to pick up the pieces and play hero because Logan fucked off to the Canadian Wilderness again?

I have many questions about my girl and her general well-being.

In general, I'm currently on the fence about her characterization. It could go either way.

I suppose we'll have to wait until next issue ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

In summary, it was a decent set-up. I read the X-Men Monday interview, so there was nothing that surprised me. Art is very good.

Also, this is me being a grumpy old bastard, but I hate the QR code pages they're doing now. Just print the damn page. I tried the scanner on both my phone and tablet, and it kept redirecting me to a broken link and I get a "500 Internal Error" message. I have no idea what that page is about. I personally don't like this concept of secret QR code pages and is irritating.

For digital reading, its more okay, but I also buy physical copies. I don't want to have to whip out my phone and/or tablet just for a gimmick to get the full issue. And who knows if the website eventually goes defunt years from now and then the QR codes are rendered useless. Then what?

[itsatwinthing4]

What I Wish Disney’s Wish Could Have Been

(Just my thoughts on a rewrite) no offense if you liked the movie. I did not, to me the movie is mid. It’s not bad but it’s not good either.

Anyway…

Asha should have just been King Magnifico’s assistant from the start. You know runs around town doing task and all that. The opening number could of just been her on her way to work because it’s a wish ceremony day also maybe a star shower is happening sometime in a few days and one hasn’t happened in a 100 years or so so the town is getting decorated and excitement is in the air. Everything is festive. Everything plays out similarly in the movie. It plays out like an interview buts it’s more of a litmus test for Asha. The king ask her why she wanted to be his assistant? She is not 18 yet but what would her wish be? And she gives the answer because she loves the people of rosas and wants to do all she can to help them. Her wish besides having her father back would be to do what King Magnifico does. She is inspired by him to bring joy and protection the way he does. Obviously he likes those answers (tells her his own backstory) and promotes her to his apprentice. ( I like the mirror motif with Magnifico. I like the idea that he sees a lot of himself in Asha) He is going to teach her magic ( big deal because nobody but him is allowed to do magic) and shows her the wishes. Asha is over the moon. Having a great day loves seeing the wishes but as the king explains more about how the wishes work and how they are selected. She starts to ask questions and push back like in the movie. They argue and finally the king snaps at her and tells her he made a mistake and fires her and tells her to go home. ( this is him backpedaling because he thought found someone he can trust to do what he does, turns out it’s another person he can’t trust) ( one of the main reason I think the king keeps the wishes is because it was someone’s desire that destroyed his first home. So he now has major mistrust issues, not with his wife…yet, and doesn’t believe in his people. He only believes the worst in others if left to there own desires. Asha is different because she believes in the best of people.)

Scared and feeling she might have screwed up her life she heads to the wishing tree.

I think instead of Asha singing her I wish song and poof here is this little luma thing. I think the “I wish” song should have been the second song of the soundtrack and its her starting at the wish tree and her going to the castle to take back her deceased dad, and grandfather’s wishes along with her mother’s wish. We see her resolve to get back her families wish and backing into the castle, there needs to be traps/safeguards that she knows about, because she is a very observant person, very good at attention to detail, which is why she likes to draw( I like this trait about her in the movie). So when Magnifico was showing her to the wizard study/wish vault, she clocked a few of those safeguards. Now she finds her dad and grandpa wishes, and hugs them tight to her. They and, unbeknownst to her, her star heart start glowing gold. Unfortunately for her time is not on her side to unpack all that because now King Magnifico is on his way after having a nightmare (this could be where we see some flashes of what happened to his home) due to his paranoia/fear( it’s him being confronted with the differing opinion/fact that he maybe in the morally wrong. Confronted with oppositions with the decisions he makes, a challenge of authority , lots of things going on in his head)( the wishes seem to give off this comforting effect, which is one of many reasons he hoards the wishes, good vibes). he is coming up to the vault so Asha puts the golden wish balls in here bag but even in the bag they glow brighter and brighter. She try’s get her mother’s wish but she is out of time and it gets left behind. She is teleported back to the tree due to stray star magic and at the tree the bag explodes with a bright golden light just like in the movie. King is upset because magic happens that wasn’t his but more importantly when Asha regains her senses she opens the bag and instead of the two wishes she instead finds star along with a wand. ( in my version, unfulfilled wishes still exist even after the wisher is gone. In my head if a wisher passes on without fulfilling their wish it not like, oh no, a wish was wasted. Their wish instead gather with other unfulfilled wishes to become a star in the night sky. Shining so beautiful and bright to help guide and inspire others so their own wishes can come true. But with King Magnifico keeping the wishes of the departed they can’t get to the night sky. ) so her dad and grandpa’s wish combined, due to Asha deep wish to help the kingdom of rosas, to form star and her own wand.

So now we have a little star thing. Asha is dumbfounded but amazed at this little ball of light. Star on the other hand is freaking the heck out, it’s not suppose to be here it’s suppose to be in the sky, star is running in fear through the woods, magic going off here and there and Asha is trying but failing to calm it down.

On the other-side of the pond the King is also equally freaky out. What was that, is it a threat, he has never seen that magic before. He is looking around his study making sure nothing was missing, like the Forbidden tome. Cue his loving wife coming in to check on him and calm him down with her reassurance along with talking him out of using the forbidden tome. Cue the song at all cost. Magnifico singing it to his wife and Asha singing it to star. I like this song a lot and it gives off the feeling that the antagonist and protagonist are, at least in this moment, emotionally on the same level. This point onward that’s all about to change. Temptation has been set( evil book) and Asha is going to grow and rise to the occasion and Magnifico is going to fall.

Cue unrest in the town, manhunt for Asha, the people demand answers etc…Star’s magic is making people’s wishes come true. Things are getting a little chaotic and King Magnifico’s magic is not as effective against stars magic he hope and Magnifico’s is not taking that realization and the people’s unrest well. Cue villain song. I like the idea behind “this is the thanks I get” but it super needs to be completely reworked.

One idea I really like came from a YouTube video by Gotchu Entertainment “The Dark Hold on the Good King ( check out the whole video it’s really good and not to long) but he has the idea that to have the powerful forbidden magic you yourself have to sacrifice your own wish. And there we see his wish is to be a beloved king not just cause he can grant wishes, but just loved for just being a good king. I would have him look at this wish, pause for a moment in contemplation, then his eyes steel themselves, crushing his wish. Basically in the mindset that if he can’t have the people’s love, he’ll command their respect. I like this because this super makes it clear that this was a choice, a crossroads if you will. there were other choices, like talking to his wife, maybe having trust in his people and give them their wishes back but no this is what he has decided and it’s because of his choices and actions, that is what makes him a villain Boom, forbidden magic happens, temptation won. The power is his, and all his inhibitors are turn off. And now he is cruel, bombastic, angry, unhinged, uncaring, arrogant, and power hungry. He turns into a tyrant.

Now Asha has to rally her friends and the queen. And make a plan to free the wishes and stop Magnifico etc…put a song here.

The ending fight should have been Asha has her song reprise but it acts more like a second wind. It still frees star but due to people’s wishes Asha’s wand is fixed ( also add the starlights to her dress and hair here)and she can wield magic again. Now alone she would still be no match to Magnifico, a seasoned sorcerer, but because everyone is wishing she is not alone. Star acts as a manifestation of the people’s wish, star can now shapeshift. Like turning into a shield to block attack becoming steps or clouds so Asha doesn’t go off the edge. Scissors to cut her bonds if she is bond ( the look of the shapeshifting is golden stardust) . Give us a wizard fight! The finale thing I think star should shape into is a stardust version of king Magnifico, the version of the man the queen use to believe in , use to love. I think it’s just a poetic visual to see the Protecter he wanted to be vs. the tyrant/mad king he became.

So with Asha and Star’s power combined Magnifico’s spell backfires. He is trapped in the staff/mirror, the day is saved.

I would not have the queen be smug about her husband’s downfall. It should sadden her that things turned out this way but she is still resolute in her decision to stop him because he was out of control. You can still send Mirror Magnifico away to hang in the dungeon but don’t do a joke. just have him raving and shouting how he is their king and they are all ungrateful. How they are all traitors and thieves. Harking back to his paranoia and trauma that he has never learned to move past. I think this is a very satisfying ending. But also leaves room for continuation. Like if they wanted to bring him back as a villain again or a redemption arc in a sequel movie or tv series (like tangled did)

Idk it’s not perfect, I’m not a writer, but it makes sense to me and i hope it tries to play with interesting ideas. And honestly most of the songs would have to be reworked the music is ok at best.