Hey!! Do you know of any fics based off of the devil wears prada? Or PA stiles who works for derek or peter or even chris? Ty❤️
I want PA!Stiles of Chris!! Why does this not exist?? Rude. I did find 2 TDWP fics, and the rest are assistant!Stiles to pretty much exclusively Derek (there’s one Peter hiding in there, if you squint). Enjoy! -Emmy
Stiles works for Hale Industries, and gets premoted as Derek Hale’s
personal assistant. So what if Stiles was in love with that man? Derek
could have two cents to his name and Stiles would still fall head over
heals for him. He can deal with being with his dream guy. He can do it.
He will not get swept away in all the madness that is Derek Hale.
Peter rolled over and groaned. He felt like someone had
taken a jack-hammer to the inside of his skull, and sandpaper to his
throat. He groaned again, but tried to shift his body towards the edge
of the bed to swing his feet to the floor.
The room swam when he
attempted to stand and he was forced to plop his butt back down onto his
1000 count sheets and wait for the wave to pass. Shit, he couldn’t
afford to get sick. He had a meeting with the Jessic Group this morning
and Talia would have his ass if he was late.
Teen Wolf meets Ugly Betty meets The Devil Wears Prada. The Hale family
own Hale Publications. The flagship publication is COUTURE magazine,
Derek’s just been put in charge and anywhere else is where he’d rather
be. Stiles has an interview for a personal assistant position, who knows
how this might end?
Stiles has no idea what he’s doing. His best friend
just set him up in an internship in one of the biggest companies in New
Derek Hale knows what he’s doing. He does everything alone
and knows exactly what he wants. But when Stiles comes in, he’s the
first person Derek’s ever met that isn’t afraid of pissing him off.
Derek doesn’t put up with misbehaviour
And misbehaviour deserves punishment.
The fanfic where Stiles is really clumsy and Derek punishes him with a good fuck
As Stiles waits behind the camera during an interview, he thinks he
should maybe quit. Because, in all honesty, despite the charming smile
the actor is pulling out for EW, Derek Hale is kind of a jerk.
(AKA, the Ugly Betty AU where Stiles is totally Betty)
thinks he’s finally getting a break when a job at the sleek,
sophisticated, Alpha Magazine opens up - but soon realises he’s not
going to be writing anything and instead is playing
tutor-slash-babysitter to their new Editor-in-Chief. Derek’s spoiled,
grumpy, in way over his head…and so painfully attractive it makes
Stiles want to lick his face. So there’s very little choice in the
“Totally not like that,” he maintains, “It’s not like we’re Bond and Moneypenny.”
gives him an excited grin, chuckling. “Dude, you’re totally his Miss
Moneypenny!” he says, eyes wide like the world just finally started to
make sense. “You’re the only one who won’t sleep with him even though
you’re dying to.”
Derek is a high powered lawyer, and a born and bred Upper East Sider.
Stiles is a broke actor who’s grateful to land a full time job as
Derek’s newest assistant. Their working relationship is one hundred
percent professional…except for when it’s not.
Prompt:Q notices the Minions are acting strange when anyone(especially the 00s) enter Q Branch. He learns they are all "Team 007"! Making sure NOBODY but Bond gets near Q.
Hello! Thank you for your ask! Tee hee~ I had fun! And it turned out much longer than I thought, too. I hope you like it, @klaine43!
Factor 1: Appearance (87% approval)
Factor 2: Charms (95% approval)
Factor 3: Skills (92% approval; other areas still up for debate)
Factor 4: Compatibility (verbal spats that sound like flirting) (93% approval)
Factor 5: Loyalty (97% approval)
Factor 6: Caring (including bringing in tea and food) (85% approval)
Presence in Q-Branch out of mission (8/10)
Factor 8: Sincerity (without baiting for new equipment) (89% approval)
There were rhythms to how Q-Branch worked. In time of crisis, everyone contributed and worked together at matching speed and a high level of synchronization, like a well-oiled machine, the sound of quick typing and humming of computers prevalent despite the occasional raised voices to announce reports and results.
Q had always appreciated this about his minions, and he had always made a point to congratulate them on a job well done whenever they had finished preventing another disaster from exacerbating and going tits up (even more so that it already was, that is).
“Ah, 004,” Q looked up from where he had been working at the central computer, adjusting his glasses. It had been a long day filled with 007 and his infuriating shenanigans again, in Seoul this time, and his eyes were itching some. “Welcome back. I trust Peru didn’t turn out too hot.”
004 grinned, brushing her hair back over her shoulder. “Hot would be an understatement,” she said, hazel eyes bright under the unforgiving fluorescent light as she regarded him.
However, before he could answer her, Jessica rushed over. “Q,” she called, there was an odd note of urgency in her voice. “There’s a document that you need to sign?”
He looked at her, eyebrow raised. “I’ll look at it once I’ve—”
“It’s a day late already, and the accounting department is harassing me about it.”
“Oh.” He blinked before making a slightly disgusted face. “They’re demanding the receipts for Project LL-03, aren’t they?”
In other words, Project Laser Lipstick Take 3.
When Jessica nodded quickly, he sighed and suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.
“Sorry, 004,” he turned to tell the agent. “Duty calls. R will oversee your equipment check-in.”
And with that, he followed Jessica away back into his office. Never once stopping to analyze the small sigh of relief that went about his entire department.
During normal working hours where the most chaotic a scene could ever
get was in the face of a device exploding and triggering fire alarms
overhead, the atmosphere was one of easy-going efficiency, a few screams
of burnt eyebrows or singed hair or not.
All in all, Q knew
how his minions worked—he had hand-picked them through tight selections
after all. He was confident that he did.
“No, I’m here to see Q,” a familiar voice caught his ears, and he turned around to see 009 sauntering, literally ignoring Nathan’s slightly shaken questions by his side. But really, who wouldn’t be just a bit afraid of the Double-Os; these people were highly dangerous and reckless, and with a license to kill to boot as well. Traits that 007 was demonstrating remarkably well in Saudi Arabia right then, to Q’s dismay.
“009. You’re here for your equipment, yes?” Q approached him, spotting a few minions scurrying off somewhere out of his peripheral vision.
The man nodded, raven hair slicked back and hands in his pockets, a charming smile unfurling on his lips.
And suddenly, there was a scream, accompanied by: “Fire! FIRE!”
Q’s eyes widened, already turning there to see what was going on. “My apologies, 009, but it seems like R will have to outfit you this time.”
Ly was already showing Kim from accounting, who everybody knew took every chance she could get to go down these tunnels, to the door. “Don’t worry,” she assured the woman briskly. “We’ll make sure Q receives the documents.”
“There’s nothing to worry about. Jessica already promised she wouldn’t have them half-buried in the trash accidentally anymore.”
Jessica, who had been watching the whole ordeal, smiled and nodded innocently as if on cue.
“I have something to talk to Q,” Kim insisted. “Q!”
And heavy metal door slid closed behind her, successfully cutting her call off.
Q looked up from his drafting table, blinking. “What was that?”
“Nothing, nothing!” was the quick, general reply.
“I think it’s the draft!” One minion spoke up, and immediately, the others nodded in agreement.
“It’s been horrible lately, hasn’t it?”
“Yes, yes. Definitely so.”
Q frowned pensively before going back to work on the prototype idea he had been brewing for days now, which should have been realized on paper, at least, by then if it hadn’t been for James-Bloody-Bond’s pesky fiasco in Italy.
“Miss Moneypenny,” Nathan greeted, and instantly, he knew he was right when he said that, No, he couldn’t do this.
But then again, it was Eve Moneypenny. Secretary or not, the woman was a force of nature of her own. Who among them could even really go up against her?
Oh, why did R have to take her bathroom break now?
“Are those for Q?” he prompted. “I can make sure he gets it later—” She pulled the files out of his reach, and smiled in that attractive, supposedly benign way that sent cold shivers down Nathan’s spine. “—on…”
This was one of the reasons why they couldn’t afford to cross her off the list in the first place.
“I can do it myself, thank you,” she said, stilettos clicking decisively on the floor as she continued her strides into Q-Branch. “Where is Q anyway?”
“Uh… he’s busy!”
She scoffed softly. “Isn’t he always.” Her eyes spanned the entire room of minions who were working and decidedly trying hard not to look like they were paying keen attention to what was going on. “I’ll check the office first then.”
“Really, Miss Moneypenny,” he hurried to follow her, taking a breath and doing the brave thing: sliding to stand in front of her and successfully stopping her in her path. “I-I can take care of it.”
If he had only felt a bit of a shiver before, his stomach was positively dropping now, the one frosty word of his name creeping at the nape of his neck.
He turned around. Q was there just a distance away, one eyebrow raised and arms crossed in front of his chest. “Nathan,” he repeated, slowly. “What are you doing?”
Q stepped closer to the center of the room. “In fact, what have you all been doing? And don’t think I haven’t noticed what’s been going on.”
The entire branch fell silent.
Q sighed and turned to Eve, extending a hand. “I’ll handle this from here.”
“Oh no,” Eve replied, leaning one hip against a desk, amusement quirking her lips. “I’m quite fine where I am. Carry on,” she waved a hand, “I won’t disturb.”
Sucking in a breath that didn’t quite turn into a sigh, he turned his attention back to his minions, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Well?” he prompted again, impatient, arms crossed in front of his chest.
When no reply was forth coming, Q closed his eyes. “Answer me now before I put all of you on cleaning duty in TSS and volunteered technical assistance for the Help Desk.”
They all paled. And quickly, previously tightly-sealed lips were then stammering at the same time.
This was the reason why they weren’t active field agents.
Q frowned in exasperation but tried to listen anyway, and the only phrase that he was able to make out was this: “Team 007.”
“What in the bloody hell is ‘Team 007′?” Q snapped, turning now to inflict the entirety of his baleful glare on Nathan, who squeaked once.
Oh God, Nathan swallowed. Just why? “We’ve agreed that… I mean, after a lot of calculating and data-collecting, we decided that…” He attempted at stalling and looked around: his comrades seemed to have abandoned him in the middle of the battle field. Bugger them all to Hell. “We’re-team-007-and-Bond’s-the-most-worthy-agent-to-woo-you-so-far!” he blurted out in quick succession.
Q stood there, stock still, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to formulate the proper response to this. And Eve’s sniggering wasn’t helping.
“First of all—” he began.
“Well, I have to say I’m flattered,” a familiar voice spoke up, and it was Q’s turn to stiffen. There Bond, James-Goddamn it-Bond, was, rugged with a hint of stubble on his face, most probably the direct result of his recent extended mission; tired, yes, but thankfully whole.
The man even had the audacity to smile that charming, disarming way of his.
“007,” he cleared his throat, straightening his back. “You weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow.”
Bond rolled his shoulders in an easy shrug. “I hopped on the earliest flight back.” He smiled, striding in, posture all confident and very much at home. Well, to be fair, he had been spending an increasing amount of time down here whenever he was on British soil as of late. “Apparently the right decision, given the highly interesting conversation that’s going on here.”
Blue eyes looked around, and the minions ducked, some blushing out of embarrassment.
“Yes, apparently, I no longer have the right to decide on my own love life anymore,” Q said, directing this to the room at large. The minions were now practically disappearing under their cubicles. Scared, he was sure, of the punishment they knew Q was very seriously considering. Chastised, however, was a different matter altogether.
“How can you blame them?” Bond was now in front of Q, and in the full bright light of the central station, Q finally realized that the damning man was wearing that all-too-fetching navy blue suit of his. “They are just defending the best result of their little project.”
Q glared. “Don’t let this stroke your ego too much. Something must have malfunctioned somewhere in there. Faulty codes and all.” And no, the back of his neck wasn’t burning up.
“Come now, Q. You need to have some degree of confidence in your subordinates,” Bond implored.
“Yes, the same subordinates who purposefully nearly burnt down a quarter of our lab,” Q scoffed. Nathan was no longer anywhere to be seen.
“There are goals that are worth fighting for, after all.”
Q snorted, indignant. “What? Like your goal of wrecking every single piece of tech I give you?”
Bond hummed. “No,” he said, voice lowering a timbre and the hint of innocent nonchalance in it was just too strong for Q to ignore. “Like my goal of asking you out for dinner.”
Q’s eyes widened before he started flushing a wholesomely lovely shade of red.
“Will you?” Bond smiled, encroaching rather too close now. However, Q detected no contrived playfulness in his eyes or tone. “Go out to dinner with me?”
Perhaps it took him a little long to process what was going on, but Q immediately jolted out of his mind when Eve nudged him in the ribs.
He smoothed down the front of his rumpled cardigan, cleared his throat after what suspiciously sounded like ‘must we do this here’, and said, “Yes.”
If Q-Branch had screamed and cheered that day, no one would be the wiser.
They were too far under ground to bother anyone anyway.
Title: Not Your Moneypenny (as in, like, ‘not your babe’. Ha!)
Pairing: Eggsy x Reader (but not Reader x Eggsy bc he’s dumb)
Summary: Eggsy and Roxy are called into Merlin’s office, which they’ve never been to. In front of his office, his attractive secretary (Y/N) (Y/L/N), was there to sign them into Merlin’s office. After sarcastic insults from Merlin, Eggsy learns that you are actually Merlin’s assistant, and a lot more experienced than Eggsy.
A/N: Tell me if you want a part 2^^
“Have you ever been called to Merlin’s office?” Roxy asked, her voice laced with worry. Eggsy stole a quick glance at her from the corner of his glasses to see her still fidgeting with the edges of her suit.
“I didn’t even know he had an office.” Eggsy confessed, walking through the walls of the Kingsman headquarters, repeating the directions Merlin gave him in his head.
“Do you think we’re in trouble?” Roxy’s fidgeting was becoming more and more manic by the second.
“Stop that!” Eggsy hissed, slapping away one of Roxy’s hand. She gave him a sheepish look. “And no, you’re not in trouble. I, on the other hand…”
“What did you do this time, Eggsy?” Roxy sighed, giving him a side eye.
“Nothing harmful, I promise!” he raised his hands in defense. She gave him another look. “I may or may not have let JB piss in one of the recruit initiates’ room.”
“Oh, my God,” Roxy tried to hold in her laughs. “You’re such an arse!” she slapped him playfully.
“Ow! Roxy, you’ll wrinkle my suit!” Eggsy giggled like a little girl as he tried to slap away Roxy’s hands.
“Ehemm,” a woman cleared her throat behind a tall table at the end of the hallway. Without realizing it, Eggsy and Roxy had arrived at the door to Merlin’s office.
They shared a nervous look before advancing towards the table. Both of them held in a gasp once they saw that it was a pretty young woman staring expectantly at them. Eggsy wanted to gasp because of how beautiful you were, and Roxy because of the fact that there was another woman in this place. So this is where they had been hiding, she thought.
“I didn’t know Merlin had an attractive secretary. Say, how do you suppose I get one?” Eggsy raised an eyebrow slyly at you. Roxy had to resist the urge not to roll her eyes aggressively.
“Not with that weak attempt of a pick up line, that’s for sure.” you raised your eyebrow back at him without lifting your eyes from the computer you were typing things into.
Eggsy’s eyes widened and Roxy snorted in an attempt to cover her cackles.
“Ouch,” Eggsy faked a wince, not ready to back down. “Come on now, don’t be like that.” he pouted, his green eyes already working it’s magic through a puppy dog stare.
“Is Merlin expecting you?” you asked in a bored, flat voice, still not lifting your eyes from the screen as you looked through Merlin’s schedule. Truth be told, you knew who he was; Merlin already briefed you earlier that morning. He even warned about his womanizing, over confident, coy attitude that he might bring up the second he sees your face. You were fully prepared for this situation.
“Yes, he is. It’s probably under—uhh,Lancelot, and Galahad.” Roxy stepped in, pushing away Eggsy away slightly. “And I do apologize for my colleague’s behavior.”
Eggsy gave Roxy a childish glare, but what he wasn’t prepared for was the way you looked up from under your lashes at Roxy, a small smile on your lips. You were breathtaking, that’s for sure; pretty hair that sat in a neat braid, soft lips, long lashes, sharp eyes, and tinted cheeks. You looked like the kind of woman that everyone would chase to hook up with, but you couldn’t because you were too busy kicking ass.
“At least one of you lives by ‘Manners Makketh Man’, or in this case, woman.” you smirked at the girl, still choosing to ignore the guy.
Eggsy looked bewildered. This was probably the first time a girl chose someone else over him, and another girl at that. “Wha-“
“Merlin will see you now.” you cut him off with the sound of your keyboard clicking as you pressed enter on Merlin’s schedule, looking him deadly in the eye.
At first, the guy’s eyes became huge in shock, but slowly the smirk you heard in his voice returned to his face. You had to admit, he was hot; dark blueish-green eyes, cheekbones more structured than your life, jawline that could cut you, dirty blonde hair groomed neatly to the side. But anything that happened at Kingsman was strictly business, you’ve told yourself that since day one.
Instantly, Merlin’s door opened and the three of you could hear his heavily accented voice.
“There you go,” you gestured to the door, standing from your chair. “I’m (Y/N) (Y/L/N), by the way.” you held out your hand to the girl.
She gave you a cheeky smile as she took your hand. “Rox-“
“Lancelot.” you gave her a small wink.
“Yeah,” she suppressed a giggle from her mistake.
The guy looked completely frustrated as he tried to move ‘Rox’ away as gently as possible, hand already outstretched for you to take. “And I’m-“
“Galahad.” you nodded, leaving his hand hanging. “I’m not that much of a bimbo secretary.”
‘Rox’s eyes widened as she let out a laugh, dragging a shocked ‘Galahad’ into Merlin’s office by the collar of his shirt, ignoring his protests.
“Yes, come in. By the time you reach me, ten people will already be dead.” Merlin rolled his eyes from his chair in the edge of the room, facing all of the different screens he had. His office was just as Roxy and Eggsy suspected; modern, technology filled, clean cut, and not a single pen out of place.
“We were just having a chat with Miss Moneypenny outside,” Eggsy huffed, straightening his collar that Roxy messed up.
“As in the secretary from James Bond?” Merlin raised an eyebrow, turning his chair to face the two agents.
“Yes?” Eggsy said, unsure.
“You bloody idiot.” Merlin pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “(Y/N)’s not my secretary, she’s my assistant. My secretary is out for the day.”
“What difference does it make?” Eggsy suppressed the need to roll his eyes.
“You’re more daft than I thought, Galahad.” Merlin gave him a look. “She’s my assistant; as in, she’s properly trained and has done a lot more field agent work than you have. She’s your senior. She could’ve killed you before you even tried to wink at her, but she chose not to. Don’t exactly know why, seeing as with the way you talked to her, I would have had your head already.”
“Nice.” Roxy gave him a taunting look. Eggsy gulped nervously.
“Right then,” Merlin rose from his chair. “Your next mission will be breaking and entering into one of the world’s tightest museums. A man named Quincy Norman-“
“That’s a shit name.” Eggsy interrupted Merlin with a whisper, causing Roxy to punch his shoulder. Merlin gave him a death glare, causing Eggsy to give a sheepish smile in return. “Sorry, continue,”
“Last Wednesday, Quincy Norman tried to break in and steal one of the world’s most prized sculptures. The owner of the museum, Jack Gallagher, is incredibly worried and so yesterday morning,” Merlin clicked a few keys on the keyboard, causing multiple images to appear. “He installed a bunch of new security alarms, not to mention a double in the amount of security guards. We suspect that Norman will strike again during tomorrow’s event; a Gala held by the owner’s daughter, Rose Gallagher. Important young people from all over the world are invited. Your job is to go undercover as Ella, Ashton, and Tricia Morgan; the three teenage children of Andrew Morgan, the owner of a successful oil company.”
“Oh, I am so excited to be with a bunch of prissy rich teenagers.” Roxy’s lip tightened sarcastically.
“You were a prissy rich teenager two years ago,” Eggsy gave her a look. “Wait,” he turned to Merlin. “You said three names?”
“Yes, (Y/N)—” Merlin eyed Eggsy. “—will be joining you. If I may say, she’s probably as good as I am with hacking skills. You’ll need her to break into their security system. The rest, you two may discuss with her for strategies.”
“Oh, shit.” Eggsy muttered under his breath. Roxy smirked at him.
“You are dismissed.” Merlin nodded as if to conclude their conversation. Eggsy and Roxy nodded back, turning to leave Merlin’s office. “Oh, and Eggsy?”
“Yes?” Eggsy turned back around.
“May I suggest apologizing to (Y/N) before you go on this mission?” Merlin taunted.
“Screw you, Merlin.” Eggsy huffed childishly, stomping out of his office with a giggling Roxy trailing behind him.
this is part of the thing I wrote when I was very sick last night (thanks for the well-wishes everyone! I’m feeling a little better today) and it makes no goddamn sense but here’s a snippet because people were interested in it for some reasoN??
Updated to include this link to the entire thing if you wanna actually read this trash heap xD
It was a Thursday afternoon when Bond arrived at Six for his debriefing, just two days after a slight hiccup in Islamabad. And by slight he meant major and by hiccup he meant damage to the British embassy but it was all just semantics when it came down to it. At least, that would be his defence when Mallory undoubtedly shouted at and then grounded Bond for another two weeks. Just enough time for Bond to get bored of London, but not enough that he could do much damage before getting shipped out again…to do more damage elsewhere.
He was just coming round the bend from the lifts when he heard Moneypenny’s voice from down the hall, issuing from the open door up ahead on the left:
“When was the last time you’ve been on a date?”
The response was even more interesting than the question, as it came from his Quartermaster, of all people. And here Bond thought that all Q did all day was sit in his dungeon and drink tea and yell at agents, but it seemed he’d been mistaken. Give him one less agent to shout at and it appeared he climbed up from the depths to the high tower to chit chat with Moneypenny. About dating of all things.
“Yeah, you know. Going out with someone you liked to coffee or dinner or something? Maybe out to something you both like to do?”
“No, can’t say I remember the last time I did something like that.”
Bond slid into the doorway, because he couldn’t keep his nose out of something so interesting, especially when it meant he could poke fun at the bespectacled boffin.
“Shocking,” Bond said.
“Toss off,” Q said over his shoulder, as casual as ever.
Neither he nor Moneypenny looked surprised to see him, even as Bond wove round them to take a seat in Moneypenny’s chair.
“Put your feet up on my desk and I’ll cut them off,” Moneypenny said.
“Missed you, too, Eve,” Bond replied, and Moneypenny rolled her eyes.
Q just shook his head, looking annoyed as he often did whenever Bond happened to be in the vicinity, and began cleaning up the remains of a takeout lunch spread out on his side of Moneypenny’s desk.
“I’m leaving,” Q announced.
He made to stand, but Moneypenny laid a hand on his shoulder and sat him back down in his seat.
“Yeah, Q. Stay a while,” Bond said, and couldn’t help himself if his grin was all teeth, because he wanted to see if Q squirmed under the scrutiny.
He didn’t, just gave Bond a bored look.
“You, shut up,” Moneypenny said, and Bond held up his hands in mock surrender.
Moneypenny leant her hip against the desk and turned back to Q. Bond only saw the back of her head, so he wasn’t sure what sort of look she gave the Quartermaster, but it had Q make a face.
“Don’t give me that look,” Q said. “I do alright. And that’s all you need to know.”
Moneypenny put her hands on her hips.
“Oh really? When?”
“Last weekend, if you must know.”
“So you do date.”
“Sure. Let’s call it dating…”
“Playing the field, Q?” Bond asked, waggling his eyebrows.
“Like I said, I do alright.”
“Slut,” Bond teased.
Q scratched at the corner of his eye with his middle finger directed at Bond.
“So you’re just hooking up?” Moneypenny asked.
“Don’t say it all disappointed like you’re my mum or something.”
“But Q, you’re how old now?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I just meant… you don’t want to be alone forever, do you? I mean, look at this one,” she said, jabbing her thumb in Bond’s direction.
“My god, Moneypenny, I’ll never be that pathetic.”
Bond rummaged through his pocket and threw the remains of a key fob on the desk in Q’s direction.
“Wrecked your car.”
Q gave a one shouldered shrug.
“Wrecked your credit. Also, the laminate floors in your flat. Did you know the sprinkler system is computer automated?
00Q prompt, if you like it: James and Q working together to support Moneypenny when she is sick and make sure MI6 runs as smoothly as possible despite her absence <3
Thank you for the prompt, @castillon02! I hope you enjoy it <3 My apologies if it’s a little bland haha
The downpour was persistent, and combined that with the sweeping gales, his morning didn’t start off on a good foot. When Mallory managed to get inside the dry interior of MI6, half of his trousers were wet and soaked.
No one said a word, not that he expected it anyway, considering that half the staff had succumbed to the flu outbreak that had been wreaking havoc these past few days. Therefore, with a sigh, he shook off his coat, folded his umbrella, and took the lift up to his office. He could use some of that coffee Moneypenny always had hot and prepared right about then.
Only, when the lift chimed open and he went into her office that was adjacent to his own, it wasn’t her who sat at the desk.
Mallory paused. “What do you think you’re doing, 007?” he asked, incredulity coloured with creeping suspicion.
Bond looked up from where he was… wiping at Moneypeny’s desk, as though disinfecting it. Given the careful way he was actually going at it, he probably was. “Hello, sir,” Bond greeted smoothly like nothing was out of the ordinary. “As you can see, I’m merely wiping Moneypenny’s desk.”
Mallory could feel a vein already twitching just off to the side of his forehead. “I can see that,” he replied patiently enough. “Why, 007, are you doing it, is the main concern here as I’m sure you are more inclined to spent your downtime doing something more… exciting, shall we way,” His lip twitched. “And where is Miss Moneypenny?”
“She called in sick,” Bond straightened up, an easy smile on his face, and anyone who knew a Double-O would know that it wasn’t as benign as it seemed. “Or, to be more precise, she received strict orders to stay home before she worked herself to the ground.”
Something clicked in Mallory’s mind. The previous day had been hectic, and he did remember distinctly her coughing and his telling her to go home early if she needed to. Reluctantly, the man nodded once, raising one pointed eyebrow at Bond. “That still does not explain why you’re here.”
“I’ve been tasked with trying to cover for her while she’s on sick leave.”
Mallory heard a sound like his ears popping. Two seconds passed, and he finally said, “Tanner is still recovering, isn’t he.” It wasn’t a question… despairingly so.
“Barely,” Bond conceded. “And Q is helping me with the sorting and such, so I won’t be the one manning this post.”
“Ah,” Mallory let out a breath, not any more reassured than before. He opened the door to his office. “Well, I suppose this is an opportunity for you to get a real taste of desk work. Just don’t cock it up.”
“Yes, sir.” Bond had the audacity to smile.
Everything went as smoothly as it could… until people’s brains caught up to the caffeine intake they had been consuming and whirred to their full working capacity.
Bond couldn’t count the number of phone calls he had taken anymore. And half of them didn’t even have anything worthwhile to say anyway.
JB:What in the world is form UDO-976?
Q:Unnatural Disasters Overseas Section 976. Something to do with collapsing buildings. You should know. They probably created this category because of you in the first place.
JB is typing…
JB:Why are there so many bloody forms and documents?
Q:Well, I don’t know. People tend to get so worried over their embassies exploding from time to time. I don’t know why they bother, really.
Bond could almost hear the disdain oozing from Q’s words. He smirked.
JB:Or their systems being overwritten every once in a while.
Then, at 1051, 001 went ahead and exploded that embassy for real, and Bond felt like, despite being one continent away from the site, it exploded in his face as well.
It wasn’t even lunchtime.
By 2 P.M., he had been running around between departments so much, he almost missed Moneypenny’s message.
EM:I hope no fire or murder has started without me.
JB: Not a chance. I’m a professional, after all. Rest.
EM:I am. Carry on then. And you’ve just survived the half-day mark, so be proud of yourself ;)
Bond couldn’t tell if she had meant that sarcastically.
“Don’t laugh.” Bond’s voice was muffled in the pillow.
Q’s lips quirked upward from where he stood leaning at the door frame to their bedroom, observing the exposed planes that broad, muscly, freckled back. “I’m not,” he said. “Just enjoying the view.”
He pushed himself away from the position and went over to press kisses down along Bond’s spine. “How was work?” he asked innocently.
It was obvious that Bond wasn’t cut out for desk work.
And he had to hold back a soft snort when the man only grunted in reply.
“To be fair,” Q continued, sliding onto the bed to lie down next to Bond, “the only substantial damage was that unoccupied wing of the embassy. And M will recover from the horror of your desk work attempt… eventually.”
At this, Bond turned over to Q. “You abandoned me,” he accused.
“What? I helped you as much as I could.” Q fought to keep himself from smiling.
“Estranging me in the middle of the sea more like,” the agent grumbled. “I nearly drowned in those paperwork.”
“Come now, I was helping 001 out. Besides, at least we didn’t have a destroyed construction site on our hands as well to top it all off.”
Bond leered at Q’s deliberate jab before extending an arm. “Come here and kiss me.”
Q scooted closer and did. “Eve says thank you,” he murmured before their lips met, and Bond responded with only a distracted hum… until he accidentally rolled the man onto his back.
“Sore back from sitting for too long?” Q asked, sheepish.
Bond scowled and resumed kissing him again to wipe that smug expression from the Quartermaster’s face.
From: Derek Hale <firstname.lastname@example.org> To: S. Stilinski <email@example.com>, L. Martin <firstname.lastname@example.org>, E. Reyes <email@example.com>, …
Subject: Regarding Mistletoes
I shall keep this brief.
I am aware that Christmas is in a few weeks and I am not discouraging everybody from spreading holiday cheer around the company. However, the next person to put up a mistletoe in my general vicinity is going to get fired on the spot.
(Derek is the long-suffering president of Hale Corp, and the rest are testing his patience. Poor Derek.)
“Stilinski!” Derek’s voice comes loud and sharp. Stiles winces and turns around slowly. Yep, there is his gorgeous boss standing in the hallway with his tie a little too loose around his neck wearing a scowl. Derek does not look happy. Stiles lifts his hand up slowly in greeting and presses his lips tight together. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Of all days, it just had to be Derek who caught him.
“Heeeey there, Derek.”
“It’s Mr. Hale,” Derek corrects. Stiles closes his eyes for a moment and nods slowly. Fuck, fuck, fuck. He’s so fired. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I–it’s not what it looks like, okay?” Stiles says, trying to breathe.
(1/1 I 3,059 I Mature I Steter,Sterek I CEO!Derek)
“I think you love me, you know,” said Stiles, to the painting of his lover, dressed in finery and astride a magnificent horse. “You can’t prove it,” Derek grunted. Not the painting, of course, but the real man, more normally dressed, stood casually behind Stiles. Stiles wished he were more gloriously dressed in not very much. He knew Derek was moving closer. He could pretend he could feel the heat as the gap between them closed. The heat of Derek’s body seemed as burningly heavenly as always. “That wasn’t a denial,” Stiles smiled. … Stiles loves Derek, even though Derek has let him down. Not a fluffy story. No happy ending.
Something must have poked his Christmas Spirit. It might be the way Hale was watching the proceedings with a scowl on his face, unable to hide what was clear derision. Earlier, his eyes had lifted when Stiles entered the work pen with the presents, and Stiles had been under the impression he had been vaguely pleased. The only thing Stiles could think of that would make someone such a gloomy grump was not getting a gift.
“What?” Hale asked, staring at him through the glass wall that made up the part of his office facing the work area.
“I’ve got something for you!” Stiles said, waving the small rectangular present as he walked in.
“That’s not mine,” Mr. Hale said, staring at the box like it offended him. Then he stared at Stiles like he was offending him more. “You’ve made a mistake.”
“No mistake, sir. It’s a special delivery from magical Hale Holiday Elves.” Stiles gestured to his head. “See the hat. A man wearing this hat makes no mistakes.”
“I called you a slave-driver!” Stiles cried hysterically. “I called you an ogre! I stole all the blue paperclips!” Derek raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s company property!” he shouted, waving his arms madly in distress. Derek ran a hand over his face. “It’s not theft if the vice president of the company gives you permission.”
(4/? I 19,854 I Explicit I Sterek I CEO!Derek, CEO!Stiles)
Scott just got married, so why does he need his best friend anymore? He has Allison. You wanna know who Stiles has? his company and those rich old ladies who’d like to get in his pants. Oh, that’s just great. But when he meets the CEO that’s supposedly merging with his own company, why does his heart flutter just a bit?
In which Derek is a gruff, struggling executive for his family’s sprawling, wealthy company in New York, and Stiles is his quirky, offbeat intern who brings him cold coffee each morning and wears stupid T-shirts to work and generally succeeds at being a thousand times more charming than Derek could ever hope to be. To the outside observer, their relationship is combative but fond, although in private Stiles and Derek have a great deal more secrets, anger, and painful history between them than Derek is prepared to acknowledge or reveal. In retrospect, that might be half of the problem.
(AKA, the Ugly Betty AU where Stiles is totally Betty)
Stiles thinks he’s finally getting a break when a job at the sleek, sophisticated, Alpha Magazine opens up - but soon realises he’s not going to be writing anything and instead is playing tutor-slash-babysitter to their new Editor-in-Chief. Derek’s spoiled, grumpy, in way over his head…and so painfully attractive it makes Stiles want to lick his face. So there’s very little choice in the matter.
“Totally not like that,” he maintains, “It’s not like we’re Bond and Moneypenny.”
Scott gives him an excited grin, chuckling. “Dude, you’re totally his Miss Moneypenny!” he says, eyes wide like the world just finally started to make sense. “You’re the only one who won’t sleep with him even though you’re dying to.”
It was only last week that Stiles had been a completely happy college student, laying about and playing Xbox. But, now, only a few short hours later, he was known worldwide as Mr Hale’s bitch.
Oh shit indeed.
Or in which…
Stiles is a Columbia college student with photographic memory, who hates people that use and abuse others with their power. One day when he is forced to be in the same room as the King Of DickBags: Mr Hale, of Hale Magazine, he gives him a piece of his mind…only to find that it was a mistake he will regret for the rest of his life.
Sir Roger Moore dead: James Bond actor and British icon dies aged 89
James Bond actor Sir Roger Moore has died aged 89, his family has confirmed.
In a statement posted on the actor’s official social media accounts it was revealed that Moore had passed away in Switzerland after a “short but brave battle with cancer”.
Moore was the third actor to play British secret agent James Bond, in seven feature films released between 1973 and 1985 that were based on the books by Ian Fleming.
Born in Stockwell, London on 14 October 1927, he studied at the Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts [RADA], where he was a classmate of future costar Lois Maxwell - the original Miss Moneypenny.
He became aware that he could be a contender for the role of 007 after Sean Connery announced in 1966 that he would no longer be appearing as the character.
He accepted producer Albert Brocolli’s offer to star in the films in 1972, writing in his autobiography that he had to cut his hair and lose weight for the role before starring in 1973’s Live and Let Die.
“Anyone watching could sense that Moore’s Bond cared more about the gadgets and the girls than the mission,” Jason Horowitz wrote for the Washington Post. “Moore seemed to know that trying to control the mission was futile. You just had to go with it and smile…
"In Moore’s movies, there is none of the realistic grit or psychological tension bookended by Connery and Daniel Craig, or the trying-too-hard of Pierce Brosnan and Timothy Dalton. Who else but Moore could accidentally inhale some treasure out of a belly dancer’s belly button, make a funny face and then get into a fist/karate-chop fight.
"Sure, he sometimes missed the face of a guy who nevertheless went flying from the phantom punch. But once you bought in, that was a whole lot better than watching the expensive explosions that have destroyed many latter-day Bond movies.”
Moore was dedicated to his work for UNICEF after being introduced to the charity by the late Audrey Hepburn.
He became a Goodwill Ambassador in 1991 and going onto be known as much for his work for children’s rights as for his iconic film role.
“The love with which he was surrounded in his final days was so great it cannot be quantified with words alone,” his family’s statement continued.
“We know our own love and admiration will be magnified many times over, across the world, by people who knew him for his films, his television shows and his passionate work for UNICEF which he considered to be his greatest achievement.
"The affection our father felt whenever he walked onto a stage or in front of a camera buoyed him hugely and kept him busy working into his 90th year, through to his last appearance in November 2016 on stage at London’s Royal Festival Hall.
"The capacity crowd cheered him on and off stage, shaking the very foundations of the building just a short distance from where he was born.
"Thank you Pops for being you, and for being so very special to so many people. Our thoughts must now turn to supporting Kristina at this difficult time, and in accordance with our father’s wishes there will be a private funeral in Monaco.”
A - age: 17 B - birthplace: eastern finland (small country, smaller cities so i’m not gonna be more spesific..) C - current time: 2.44 am D - drink you had last: sugar free ice tea, it was awful E - easiest person to talk to: probably delia! F - favorite song: atm placebo’s miss moneypenny G - grossest memory: every dentist appointment H - horror - yes or no: y e s I - in love?: never J - jealous of people?: occasionally K - killed someone?: not to my knowledge L - love at first sight or walk past again?: what? no M - middle name: liisa N - number of siblings: none O - one wish: i want to be able to fly P - person I last called: ugh.. one of my parents maybe? Q - question you’re always asked: idk but people from my old school seem to think i play violin for some reason R - reason to smile: summers soon? (the vacation i mean there’s still snow outside..) S - song you last sang?: yes by manic street preachers T - time you woke up?: between 13-14 U - underwear color: atm? cheeky.. (black, always) V - vacation: is soon and i’m gonna stay up late and sleep til noon and go swimming in a lake (no matter how cold it is) W - worst habit: binge eating, also i sometimes i stick gum to furniture but only in my own room.. X - x-rays?: yeah, teeth Y - your favorite food: mac’n’cheese, cold cocoa Z - zodiac sign: libra
Rich twists in his seat, watching Jane leave the interrogation room and then turns back to Kurt. He’s got that smirk on his face and Kurt dreads whatever is going to come out of his lips next.
“So you two still haven’t slept with each other?” Rich asks, “no need to answer,” he says when Kurt rolls his eyes at him, “I would know. Also, I’m pretty sure you’d tell your buddy Rich had you already had sex.”
Kurt shakes his head. “What makes you think I would tell you about it when we sleep together?”
“What?” Kurt pretends not to notice his own incriminating choice of word.
“You said when you sleep together, not if,” Rich says smugly, “what’re you keeping from me, Stubbles?”
Kurt doesn’t answer him, keeps his jaw clenched.
“You’re not still sleeping with Miss Moneypenny are you? Please tell me you’re not,” Rich says, “you obviously still love Jane, you said when, Kurt, so you still want her… what the hell is wrong with you?”
“I don’t see how any of this is your business,” Kurt says, “now lets go back to the case.”
“How is this my business? How can you say that?” Rich asks, “after everything we have been through, you still don’t believe -”
“It’s complicated, ok?” Kurt finds himself saying to be criminal sitting across from him, “there’s so much that has happened, so much you don’t know about, so much- it’s just complicated, okay? So please just drop it.”
Rich puts his hands up, as much as he could given the handcuffs binding him to the table. “Fine, fine,” he says, “have it your way. But Kurt, love is always complicated, so do yourself a favor and don’t try to hide behind that lame excuse and work your shit out, because that girl, she’s worth it. And whatever it is between you, what could be is greater than what has been.”
“Why do you care?” Kurt says, his voice barely a whisper as Rich’s words sink in.
“Because, you idiot, I really genuinely like you two. And goddammit if you don’t make one smoking hot couple. Is it wrong if a guy has some fantasies he’d like to see fulfilled?”
hi i’ve had the most awful day travelling please it involved paramedics ambulances luggage problems and landing at the wrong airport you don’t even want to know so i’m really sorry if this is bad but!! life :((