#Professional Parking Management

[anaalnathrakhs]

btw my mom said it. she said it to me looking me in the eyes. i told her about how difficult it was for me to get through those family reunions, and she admitted it was very important to her, important enough that she was just going to do it anyway.

[beaversatemygrandma]

Still just sitting here wondering how i ended up finding a job that i enjoy???

Like around cool large reptiles? Taking photos? I mean, of people, and rarely squirrels much to everybody's dismay. But that?? Good coworkers? GOOD MANAGERS???

Where the hell am i and why is it good? Sure, the pay could be higher and god knows we need an anti fatigue mat or two in that office. But it's not bad at all. Just some pros and cons. Sacrifice some things for an actually pleasant environment.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Friendly neighborhood forensic pathologist Danny Fenton is a new master of The Court of Owls? (Dead on main, of course) +Part 2: Talon Dick

Don’t underestimate what a ghost will do for a higher education. You see, it's the custom of the Fenton family not to run away from things they are afraid of but to face their fear. So Danny Fenton, who has learned to fear scalpels, steel clamps and surgical retractors, decides to do something about it and to dedicate his life to giving souls of those who died a violent death the final rest and justice they deserve.

Well, it didn’t really come to him at once. It started out as a simple joke:

Danny didn’t think he could continue his education after school. Frankly, his grades suck. However, Tucker for fun applied for a scholarship for gifted villains from Gotham University on his behalf.

And hell, they are willing to pay money for his education. Pay in full! Living in Park Row is also incredibly cheap. And with his flying ability, he’ll also save on transportation.

Danny is not a villain. And he’s not planning on becoming one. But he couldn’t lose that chance.

Why do you deserve this scholarship? “My parents are renowned ecto scientists, and I’ve seen their dissection work at its best. Medical school is expensive, and this scholarship will help me accomplish my goal of becoming a forensic pathologist and helping maintain the boundary between the world of the living and the world of the dead…or use it for my own ends. Of course.”

Well, Mr Two-Face was fully confident that despite his grades in the subjects, Danny was fully committed to achieving high academic achievement. Finally, work experience of Dan came in handy somewhere.

There were only few things about the death that Danny didn’t find on his own or from his ghost friends, so he managed to graduate in record time. Young Fenton thought he was lucky enough to get a job near Crime Alley. It was odd that the job was available. Even a new specialist like him was allowed to work full-time. And the salary was very decent.

~~~~~~

Danny: Yes, Jazz, everything is just fine. I found a great job and I’m trying to relax and find a hobby, you know. Started feeding the local birds. Apparently they were abused, the poor things are so shy and aggressive.

The local birds:

~~~~~~

Let’s say that a returned Jason as undead cannot be killed for forever. The stab wounds heal quickly, the bullet holes sometimes itch unpleasantly for a few days, but in general his regeneration is at a level with some metahumans. This is convenient. But when Red Hood wakes up in the morgue after a particularly severe injury, he’s not happy. Sometimes even looking in the mirror at his dissection scar is difficult for him. And this situation is a fucking nightmare. Danny: Oh. Are you awake now? I’m sorry I didn’t have time to put you on the couch, I didn’t have clean sheets and my assistant would have killed me because of the new stains. Red Hood: What the hell? I’m sorry?! It’s fucked up! I’d love to see you wake up on the dissection table. Danny: Been there Done that. But hey, I didn’t put you there. You didn’t get here on my shift, give me a break.

Jason: …So, what's now? Danny: Well, I can offer you tea or coffee. Of course, only after I sew up the hole in your stomach and give you a change of clothes. Or I could go after the documents and pretend I didn’t notice one of my bodies got away. But then don’t dream about novocaine blockade. Pretty liver by the way, you don’t see that much in crime lords. Jason: Um, thank you? But you’re weird. Usually people are praised for the beauty of the face or eyes rather than… Danny: Wow, now I feel attacked.You wake up in your helmet. I can’t compliment what I can’t see. Jason: Gee, I’m surprised your colleague hasn’t taken it off yet. Danny: And lose important evidence? It is not customary for us to put curiosity above professionalism.

~~~~~

Jason learns quickly that although Batman is willing to go anywhere to track him, there are always exceptions to the rule. The morgue was one of them. Not surprisingly, the emotional constipation and uncomfortable theme of Jason’s death worked like a perfect bat repeller. Over time, Jason becomes really interested in a guy who genuinely laughs at his death jokes and listens to his problems at work without judgment. Danny is too cute and nice.

Danny*works*: No visitors allowed here.

Jason: Unless you are a zombie, right?

Danny:...Still not one of your hideouts. The book is where you left it, make some tea if you want it.

~~~~~

Jason, once again delivered without a sign of life to Danny after the fight, woke up during pupillary reflex test.

Jason: Oh, beauty, you are just dazzling today.

Danny: As I thought, your regeneration didn’t cure your concussion before your resurrection. I’ll give you referrals for all the tests and examinations. And we really should stop seeing each other like this. Please take care of yourself.

Jason: I don’t think you have the right to prescribe them to me. Danny: Technically I do not. But we live in Gotham. And for some time the hospital where I work at night is very sensitive to my requests.

Red Hood: And why? Danny: It’s hard to explain… Red Hood: Doctor Handsome, I’ve been through some shit, so try to surprise me. Danny: Okay, okay. Look, you are a crime lord for not too long, right? But criminals and cops are afraid of you and kids and your henchmen really likes you. Jason: ..So what? Danny: Can you please recommend how to maintain a reputation but so your people aren’t afraid of you? Jason: Why do you need this information? Your assistant finally realized you’re friends with walking corpses? Danny: It’s not about that! Although, like.. you aren’t wrong? It’s complicated. I may, well, accidentally, honestly, have seized power over a local secret aristocratic criminal society.

Jason: Baby, please tell me everything. I have a restaurant as a front for a business nearby. It’s a date. Let's go. Danny: Let me finish a few stitches first, Jay.

~~~~~

Red Hood and Red Robin fight near Batman: Hood: Replacement was on patrol without permission! Red Robin: And Jason is dating the new owner of Court of Owls! Batman:.. he's doing WHAT? Jason, how could you take such a risk? it is completely unprofessional and Red Hood: At least he loves me for what’s inside me! Red Robin: Yeah, like a beautiful liver. It’s a great relationship base. Red Hood: I’m talking about my feelings and interests. Dumb lil stalker with a big mouth! I’ll teach you not to bother my boyfriend.

~~~~~

Henchman: Boss. We shouldn’t go into that area, the rumors are that there are Talons here. Red Hood: All under control, they won’t touch us. Henchman: How can you be sure? The poem says 'Beware The Court of Owls, that watches all the time, ruling Gotham from a shadow..' Red Hood: Yeah yeah "speak not a whispered word of them or they'll send The Talon for your head". I’m sleeping with their boss, of course I’m sure. Henchman: Boss, don’t kid like that. Red Hood: I don’t pay you for gossip. Let's go.

Dick, to whom the memories began to return, haunts Jason because he did not cut for Lil Wing apple slices like he likes for lunch: Talon came to finish the job. Henchmen: scream

~~~~~

Jason *shows Danny 'Red Flags' on youtube*: Hey, baby, want to be a little shit on our date? I know where Brucie Wayne’s having dinner tonight, so you can meet the family.

[ceilidho]

He’s late for his own trial.

You’ve been standing outside the courthouse for what feels like twenty minutes now, tapping your heel on the ground and checking your watch for the umpteenth time. The two of you are already supposed to be inside the courtroom getting set up and going over the details of his case, but instead of grabbing a coffee at the shop across the street and combing over the case notes, you’ll be pressed to even get a couple hissed whispers out between you two before the judge steps up to the bench. 

You think about calling your client again, but that thought quickly evaporates when the sound of muffled heavy metal rumbles out of the gunmetal sedan that just pulled into the parking lot at around thirty miles an hour. You take a deep breath when he parks, already trying to talk yourself out of the bad mood you’re in.

In the back of your mind, you’re about eighty percent sure that there’s no way you’re leaving today without a guilty conviction. When Johnny steps out of the car, the cheap sunglasses obscuring his eyes do nothing to distract from the way he’s obviously hungover. He’s buttoning up his suit jacket from the middle button as he walks up the stone steps towards you, sliding his sunglasses into the breast pocket. 

“Don’t you look sharp,” you remark dryly when he’s close enough to lock eyes with you. You have to force down a shudder that threatens to ripple down your spine at the cocky grin that spreads over his face. 

You’re obviously being facetious. Johnny’s suit is two sizes too small for him—it looks like the last time he wore it was to his high school graduation and he’s grown at least a foot since then—and his shirt and pants are rumpled like he wore them to bed the night before. The scruff sprouting from his cheeks and chin also supports that notion; he’s still rubbing the sleep out of his eye when he walks up to you.

“‘N’ ye look—I wanna say exquisite, but we should probably keep it professional, huh?” 

He winks down at you and the twinkle in his eye infuriates you as much as it ingratiates you. You didn’t spend nearly ten years working your way through undergrad, law school, and years as a public defender to start preening at the attention of the first cute guy you’ve had to represent in your career. 

“I think we passed ‘professional’ after the seventh pass you made at me.”

“‘N’ it won’t be the last. Anyway, stop wasting time—let’s get this show on the road,” he says, side-stepping around you towards the court doors. “I’m not going to jail because someone wanted to flirt with me before my trial.” 

Your jaw drops. He acts like he isn't in this situation because he was accused of holding up a gas station six months ago. You think he’s about to brush past you until you feel a hand plant itself on the middle of your back and push you forward, making you almost stumble into the courthouse. 

“Anyway, we can pick up this conversation in the bog during the break if yer that hot for it,” he murmurs into your ear before you’re separated and searched upon entering the courthouse. Your cheeks do not—absolutely do not—heat up at his tone of voice. 

You’re right in that the two of you barely have any time to prepare. The prosecution is already set up at their table and even the court reporter and judge’s clerk are already present. You squirm at a side-eye from the other counsel, hurrying Johnny over to your table and spending the next ten minutes with your lips practically pressed against his ear.

All throughout the trial, he leans back in his chair and looks like the picture of a petulant child who’s been dragged along by his parent. If you could sink your head into your palms without immediately losing face in front of the judge, you would; all he had to do—and you’d reminded him this for weeks before the trial—was sit straight and not roll his eyes when the prosecution brought up their witnesses. He can’t even manage that.

Somehow though, miraculously almost—and in your defense, even Johnny looks shocked when the verdict is rendered—he’s not found guilty. You’re still a little shell shocked walking out of the courthouse, the sunlight making you squint and then a cup a hand around your eyes. 

He fits a big hand around your waist when you’re about to part ways with him, pulling you back into his chest. Your head whips up to stare at him, ignoring the clench in your belly when his fingers curl into your flesh and that same smug grin quirks up on his lips.

“Why don’t we go grab a drink to celebrate our win, hen?” he suggests. 

“I don’t grab drinks with clients,” you snap, trying to put some distance between you and him. 

Johnny leans down a bit more, always towering over you, until his face is so close that you almost go cross-eyed. “We dinnae have to go out then. We can just go back to my car. Ah can show you how much ah pure appreciate a’ ye did fer me.”

“I don’t need your thanks, I get paid for this—”

“Baby,” he murmurs, stressing the word out, and the moment suddenly feels cramped and intimate, despite the fact that you’re standing in the middle of a crowded parking lot. “Just let me eat ye out in th' backseat.”

You’re stunned for all of ten seconds before you try to glance inconspicuously around the parking lot. It doesn’t look like anyone’s paying attention. Johnny notices it at the same time as you and his smile goes devilish, teeth showing behind his lips. 

“Aye, ah ken that look. Come on—I ken a spot down th’ road where we can park.”

[adamsrcnan]

every single day. every. single. day. i'm haunted by that one iconic tumblr post about kevin's perfect match being some random person he meets at the grocery store who doesn't know a thing about exy. (I'm pretty sure that's the gist of the post it's so old and i can never find it)

like i'm never not thinking about it.

sooooo

imagine a kevin day in his late 20's ???? he doesn't ever go shopping. can't remember the last time he did but he's restless before a big game. he's craving a healthy protein filled snack. it's like 1am. he goes to the 24 hour grocery store. he's got his hood up. if anyone catches him here he'll be swarmed. his pr managers will have his head. he's reaching for his snack. someone speaks up behind him. says something like "the peanut butter ones are the best ones" kevin, with an eye roll and a scoff ready to fall from his lips, turns to the stranger. then he pauses. he's cute. curly hair. glasses. a sweater vest. he notices kevin's tattoo. says "nice tattoo" kevin freezes. oh no, here it comes. then the stranger drops a random historical fact about chess. he's baffled. he's pretty sure he said the exact same thing when he was sitting in the chair at the tattoo parlor half drunk all those years ago. but he takes too long to respond. so the stranger smiles awkwardly and says "see you around" and leaves. kevin can't stop thinking about him. may or may not make one too many midnight trips to the grocery store. he finally see's him again. this time he drops a historical fact on the guy about the veggies he's buying. he laughs. kevin short circuits at the sound. then the man is giving him his number. he doesn't text for days. afraid he's a crazy psycho fan. but then he see's him again. the man looks a little embarrassed when he apologises for being so forward. he's walking away when kevin says "you don't know who i am?" the man looks totally baffled. "should i?" he says back. now kevin is the one baffled. so kevin texts him. they talk about history. kevin doesn't talk about exy. turns out the stranger is a history teacher. kevin is enamoured. but the man still doesn't know who he is. kevin strangely wants to keep it that way. but the little bubble bursts eventually. the kids at the man's school are talking about exy. he's heard of it of course, but isn't a sports guy, so never paid attention. then kevin's name is dropped. and then history teacher is googling kevin. and it's him. it's grocery store kevin. his kevin. he goes a little ghost. he doesn't wanna date a professional famous world star athlete. takes him a couple days but kevin catches on. texts him saying "you figured it out..." they don't talk. they see each other at the grocery store again weeks later. they sit outside in the parking lot at night. history teacher asks him about exy. he doesn't know much or anything. kevin goes off on one. history teacher likes how passionate he is. takes a chance. they keep talking. history teacher listens to kevin talk about exy. kevin listens to him talk about history. they go on secret museum dates. kevin takes the man running even tho he hates it. the man falls in love. kevin falls in love. kevin wakes up one day, and he is finally happy in love.

[pucksandpower]

Help, My Cat Drank My Red Bull!

Max Verstappen x veterinarian!Reader

Summary: in which Sassy gets into an open can of Max’s energy drink and inadvertently leads Max to the love of his life

Max sighs as he exits the sim-rig, stretching his arms over his head. After a few intense hours of virtual racing, he could use a pick-me-up.

He wanders into the kitchen, spotting the full can of Red Bull he had left on the counter earlier.

Perfect.

But as Max reaches for the energy drink, something catches his eye — a sticky puddle on the granite countertop where the can should be. He leans in, sniffing cautiously. The unmistakable sweet scent of Red Bull wafts up.

“What the ...” His voice trails off as a blur of tan fur darts past the corner of his vision.

Sassy skids into view. Her pupils are dilated to the size of marbles and she’s practically vibrating with excess energy. Max’s jaw drops as the realization hits.

“No, no, you didn’t ...”

But the evidence is irrefutable. Sassy must have knocked over the can and lapped up every sugary drop.

Max runs a hand through his curls, panic rising. Too much caffeine could be incredibly dangerous for a cat her size. He needs to get her to a vet right away, but at — he checks his watch — 2:14 in the morning, his usual clinic will be closed.

“Come here, Sassy!” He calls, slowly advancing on the hyper feline.

But Sassy just stares at him, unblinking, before bolting in the opposite direction with a manic burst of speed. Max gives chase, cursing under his breath as she darts around furniture and ricochets off walls. After several frantic minutes of pursuit, he finally manages to corner the cat and scoop her into a carrier.

Sassy yowls in protest as Max secures the door, but he has no choice. He grabs his keys and races down to the parking garage, carefully settling the carrier into the passenger seat of his bright red Ferrari before peeling out toward the nearest emergency vet clinic.

The drive seems to take an eternity with Sassy howling the whole way. Max’s knuckles are white on the steering wheel as he haphazardly parks outside the clinic and jumps out, slamming the door behind him.

Only to stop dead a few steps later, the realization crashing over him like a wave. In his haste, he left the cat in the car.

“Shit!” Max spins on his heel, cheeks burning as he hurries back and grabs the carrier, cradling it awkwardly against his chest.

He strides through the front doors of the clinic, the receptionist looking up in surprise at his abrupt entrance.

“Please,” Max gasps out, eyes wide. “My cat, she drank a whole can of Red Bull. What do I do?”

The receptionist’s brows knit together briefly before her features smooth into a professional mask. “Okay sir, please have a seat in exam room three. The doctor will be right with you.”

Max nods frantically, hurrying down the hallway as directed and gently depositing the carrier on the exam table. He resumes his pacing, running anxious hands through his hair.

After what feels like an eternity, the door finally opens. But the person who walks in absolutely takes Max’s breath away.

You are, without a doubt, the most gorgeous woman he has ever seen. From your cascading locks to your warm eyes, Max can’t tear his gaze away. Your figure is highlighted by pale blue scrubs as you cross the room, a soft smile playing at the corners of your mouth.

“Good morning, I’m Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. What seems to be the trouble?”

Max’s throat is suddenly, inexplicably dry. He clears it harshly. “U-uh, hi. I’m Max. Max Verstappen. My cat, Sassy, she — well, I had a can of Red Bull out and she must have knocked it over because when I came back, it was empty but the counter was sticky and then she was just … super hyper and crazy ...”

His words stumble to a halt as you lean over, gently pulling the still-feisty Sassy from her carrier and depositing her on the table. You murmur soothingly, stroking her soft fur as you examine her dilated pupils and elevated pulse.

“Hmm, yes, it does sound like she’s had a bit too much caffeine.” You shoot Max a reassuring smile that makes his heart skip a beat. “Not to worry though, we’ll get her taken care of.”

As you deftly slip a mild sedative into the crook of Sassy’s leg, Max can’t help but watch in awe at how gentle and caring you are. He’s never seen someone so compassionate and loving toward an animal before.

Within minutes, the sedative takes effect and Sassy transforms from a blur of frantic energy to a lazy puddle of fur, watching the room with heavy-lidded eyes. You scratch between her ears, lips quirked.

“There we go, that’s better. She’ll be feeling pretty groggy for the next little while as the caffeine works its way out of her system.”

Max nods dumbly, completely mesmerized as you deftly check Sassy’s vitals again.

“Her temperature and heart rate are looking good. I’d just recommend keeping her awake and hydrated until the effects have fully worn off in six to eight hours, then she should be back to normal.”

“Okay, yeah. Thank you so much, really,” Max gushes, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “I was so worried when I realized what happened.”

You shrug with an easy smile. “Oh, it’s no trouble at all. Better to get these things checked out, just to be safe.” A teasing glint enters your expressive eyes. “Although, I have to ask — how exactly does a Red Bull can get knocked over and lapped up by a cat?”

Max feels his cheeks flush again as your gaze meets his, warm and friendly and so incredibly beautiful up close.

He clears his throat. “Uh, well, you see I was sim racing for a while and just left it out, which was dumb of me ...”

As he rambles through the explanation, Max can’t tear his eyes away from the crinkles that form around your eyes when you smile or the melodic lilt of your laughter. By the time he’s finished, he’s even more smitten than before.

An awkward silence falls as you finish up examining Sassy. You turn back to Max, expression soft.

“Well, it seems like your girl is going to be just fine. I’ll get the discharge paperwork ready for you.”

Your footsteps retreat toward the door and panic seizes Max’s chest. He can’t just let you walk away, not without at least trying ...

“Hey, uh, Dr. Y/N?” He calls out before he can overthink it.

You pause, eyebrows raised expectantly as you turn back.

Max suddenly can’t remember what he was going to say. His mind goes blank, palms growing sweaty, as he shuffles his feet. The words completely escape him as he’s overwhelmed by your warmth and beauty.

“I, uh … thanks again. For helping Sassy,” he stammers out instead, mentally kicking himself.

You smile patiently. “Of course, I’m just glad she’s going to be okay.”

An awkward silence stretches between you as Max wars internally, desperately trying to muster the courage to ask you out properly. But the moment slips away as you begin to turn back toward the door.

“Well, I’ll get those discharge papers ready for you.”

“Right, yeah, okay. Thanks ...” Max’s words trail off lamely as you exit the room.

He squeezes his eyes shut, smacking his forehead in frustration. He just completely blew his chance with the most incredible woman he’s ever met, all because he’s a bumbling idiot who can’t even form a simple sentence around someone that effortlessly beautiful and caring.

Max blows out a long breath, trying to refocus on the fact that Sassy is going to be alright, at least. As he carefully gathers her sleepy form back into her carrier, he can’t help the pang of regret that settles in his chest.

Maybe your paths will cross again someday under better circumstances. A guy can dream, right?

***

The next week drags by for Max in a blur of monotony. He finds his thoughts drifting constantly back to the emergency vet clinic, replaying his disastrous non-attempt at asking you out on a date. Just the memory of your radiant smile and warm eyes is enough to make his heart stutter.

But as the days pass with no sign of you around Monaco, Max’s hope slowly fades. Of course someone as incredibly kind, caring, and beautiful as you would never go for an awkward guy like him. He’s an idiot for thinking he even had a chance.

Exactly one week after the Red Bull incident with Sassy, Max is moping on his couch, idly stroking Jimmy as he channel surfs. He pauses on a cheesy romcom, watching with mild disdain as the bumbling male lead performs increasingly ridiculous stunts all for a chance to see his love interest again.

It’s utterly ridiculous. And yet … Max feels a strange sense of kinship with the hapless romantic on screen.

Because as he stares at the TV, a crazy idea begins to take shape. If he wants to see you again so badly, why not take a page from the movie’s playbook? With a jolt of determination, Max scoops up a disgruntled Jimmy and tucks him into his carrier.

“Looks like you’re coming with me on an adventure, buddy,” Max murmurs, grinning slightly at Jimmy’s unmistakable look of disdain. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it worth your while. I just need you to play along so I can see Y/N again. You’re going to help me make her yours and Sassy’s new mom.”

Jimmy yawns pointedly, seemingly unimpressed with Max’s romantic scheming. Max just chuckles, scratching the cat between the ears before grabbing his keys and heading for the garage.

He settles Jimmy’s carrier into the passenger seat of his Ferrari, the engine roaring to life under his expert control. As he navigates Monaco’s winding streets, Max keeps up a steady stream of conversation with his distinctly unreceptive feline audience.

“You’re going to love Y/N, I just know it,” he insists, pulling up to a red light. “She’s the kindest, most compassionate person I’ve ever met. The way she took care of Sassy with such patience and gentleness ...” Max shakes his head in wonder. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Jimmy blinks slowly at him, conveying an impressive blend of judgment and displeasure at being awake, much less participating in this ridiculous plan. Max just barrels onward.

“Look, I know this seems crazy. But Y/N … she’s just special, you know? And if this is what it takes to get to know her better, then I’m all in.”

He pulls up to the familiar sight of the clinic, parking much more calmly this time before grabbing Jimmy’s carrier and heading inside. The same receptionist from before looks up in surprise as he approaches.

“You again? Is everything okay with Sassy?”

Panic grips Max’s chest as he realizes he didn’t actually come up with an excuse for bringing Jimmy in beforehand. He scrambles for something, anything, to say.

“Uh, well, actually it’s Jimmy here who needs to be seen,” he rushes out, nodding toward the disgruntled cat. “You see, I was just, uh … brushing him earlier and he seemed great. But then I went to pick him up and it was like … bam!” Max mimes an explosion gesture. “Total f-fur explosion, just hair going everywhere! It was like he was … moulting, but not in the normal way, you know?”

By the time Max finishes, the receptionist is staring at him in bewilderment. He can feel the flush creeping up the back of his neck as she blinks slowly.

“A … fur explosion,” she repeats flatly.

“Exactly!” Max insists with a vigorous nod. “Just an absolute furpocalypse, you would not believe it. So I figured I’d better bring him in to get checked out, just in case?”

A beat passes as the receptionist seems to silently debate arguing with him further. Finally, she just shakes her head.

“Okay, well … go ahead and take Jimmy back to exam room three again. Dr. Y/L/N will be right with you.”

Max’s heart leaps into his throat at the mention of your name as he forces a polite smile and heads back down the hallway to the familiar room. He carefully lets Jimmy out to explore as they wait, praying fervently that you’ll actually be the one to walk through that door.

The minutes drag by in tense silence, Max gnawing nervously at his thumbnail. Just as he’s starting to think this was all a terrible idea, the door swings open and you step inside.

It’s like the world stops spinning for a moment. You are … breathtaking, even more gorgeous than Max remembered. From your tumbling locks of hair to the gentle curve of your smile, he’s completely mesmerized all over again.

You glance up from the chart in your hands, doing a slight double-take as you recognize Max.

“Well, hello again you!” Your voice is bright and melodic. “I can’t say I was expecting to see you back so soon. What happened?”

Your inquisitive gaze meets Max’s and he very nearly blurts out the entire truth right then and there — that he absolutely made up an excuse just for the chance to see you again. Somehow, he bites back the words at the last moment.

“Oh, uh, it was the weirdest thing,” he stammers instead, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I was brushing Jimmy, my other cat, earlier and all of a sudden his fur just started … exploding everywhere! Like, full-on furmageddon. It was insane.”

He cringes inwardly at how stupid he sounds, watching as a crease forms between your brows in contemplation. After a moment, though, your features smooth out into an easy smile and you move closer to gently stroke Jimmy’s silky fur.

“Well, let’s take a look, shall we?”

For the next several minutes, Max watches in rapt fascination as you thoroughly examine Jimmy from ears to tail, gentle hands ghosting over his fur as you murmur soothing reassurances. Just being in your presence is intoxicating.

You’re so caring and patient, even with the obviously fabricated reason Max invented to see you again. It only makes his growing infatuation burn all the brighter.

Finally, you straighten back up and turn to Max with a warm smile.

“Well, I can definitively say there was no fur explosion or moulting crisis with Mr. Jimmy here,” you tease lightly, arching one perfect eyebrow. “He seems perfectly healthy to me. Is there anything else I can help you with today?”

Your knowing look pins Max in place, cheeks flushing guiltily. He rubs at the back of his neck again, trying to decide if he should just come clean or stubbornly dig himself deeper into this ridiculous invented scenario.

But as he opens his mouth, ready to try and bumble through another excuse, something stops him. Maybe it’s the patient understanding in your warm gaze or the gentle amusement playing at the corners of your mouth. Or maybe it’s just Dutch stubbornness rearing its head.

Either way, Max’s words grind to a halt as he takes a deep, fortifying breath.

“You know what? I’m just going to put it all out there,” he blurts before he can second guess himself further. “The truth is … I made up this whole thing as an excuse to come see you again.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, but Max presses onward, suddenly unable to stem the flow of words.

“I tried to ask you out last week after you helped Sassy but I completely chickened out like an idiot. And I just … I couldn’t stop thinking about you, about how caring and amazing you were.”

Max’s heart thunders in his ears as he runs an anxious hand through his hair.

“So, I don’t know, I got this stupid idea to bring Jimmy in so I could see you again. Which is insane, I know, and you probably think I’m some total weirdo stalker creep now but-”

“Max.” Your soft voice cuts through his panicked rambling like a lighthouse beam in the fog. “Breathe.”

He sucks in a shuddery breath, feeling his cheeks flush scarlet under your gaze. This is it, the moment you shut him down for being a complete crazy person and he has to slink out of here in shame. Maybe he can move to Timbuktu and become a goat herder to escape his humiliation-

“I have to admit, this is a new one for me,” you continue, a teasing lilt to your words. “Most guys don’t go to such elaborate lengths just to see me again.”

You take a step closer, eyes sparking with a hint of mischief that has Max’s breath catching in his throat.

“Though I have to say, faking a pet illness is definitely an … original move. Do you go to such dramatic extremes for all your romantic pursuits?”

Max can’t help but huff out a surprised laugh at that, some of the tightly-wound tension easing from his shoulders.

“No, I uh … you’re pretty definitively the first person I’ve literally made my cat an accomplice just to spend more time with.”

The laughter that bubbles up from you at that is bright and infectious, warmth blooming in Max’s chest as he drinks in the delighted crinkles at the corners of your eyes.

“Well, as harebrained schemes go, I suppose I’ve encountered worse,” you tease warmly. “Though in the future, you’re welcome to just ask me out like a normal person.”

A weighted pause hangs between you as realization dawns in Max’s thundering heart. Is this … is this your way of giving him that very opening?

He clears his throat roughly, feeling oddly like he’s standing at the edge of a precipice, every molecule vibrating with anticipation and hope and sheer, pounding need.

“Does that mean … I mean, would you want to?” The words stick in his suddenly dry throat. “Go out with me, that is? On like … a date?”

The breath rushes from Max’s lungs in a dizzying whoosh as he finally gets the words out. He watches you intently, hands clenched into nervous fists as he waits for your response with bated breath.

For a moment, you’re quiet, considering him with an inscrutable expression. The silence seems to stretch into eternity, suffocating Max as a thousand worst-case scenarios start to race through his mind.

This is it, he’s blown it forever. You’re going to turn him down, probably with a gentle let-down about having to be professional or not dating clients or something. He’ll be crushed, forced to slink away and change his name and flee to the farthest reaches of Nepal to become a hermit and-

And then, finally, you smile. It’s soft and warm and sends relief crashing through Max in a blissful wave.

“You know what, Max? I would really like that.”

He blinks, feeling a little dizzy as the words bounce around his head. “You … you would?”

You laugh again, low and melodic, taking another step toward him. “I would. In fact, I’d love nothing more.”

A giddy grin splits Max’s face before he can rein it in. You actually said yes! To him! After his utterly insane made-up pet emergency, you still somehow agreed to go out with him.

The absurd wave of giddy elation and disbelief must show on his face, because you shake your head fondly.

“What am I going to do with you, Max Verstappen?” You say, voice warm with wry amusement. “Anyone else might have turned and ran after that nonsense, but I have to admit … there’s something terribly endearing about your attempts at romance.”

You brush past him then, headed for the door with a coquettish glance over your shoulder.

“I’ll get those discharge papers ready. And maybe once the completely fabricated fur crisis is dealt with, you can take me out for that date one of these days?”

Max can only nod dumbly, wide smile still firmly in place as the exam room door swings shut behind you. He glances down at a disgruntled Jimmy, scratching his cat’s ears with a breathy chuckle.

“Looks like your little acting gig paid off after all, buddy. Your new mom’s gonna take me out on a date!”

***

A few months later, Max can barely contain his excitement as he weaves through the familiar organized chaos of the Monaco paddock. This race holds a special thrill every year as one of the marquee events on the calendar. But today, there’s an extra level of anticipation thrumming through his veins.

Because for the first time ever, you’re here with him.

After months of gentle coaxing and meticulously planned days off, he’s finally convinced you to spend an entire race weekend as his guest. The chance to show you his world, the intoxicating intensity of a Grand Prix up close, fills Max with a buzz of elation.

He can’t wait for you to experience it all — the roar of finely-tuned engines, the crunch of data analysis, and even the mundane periods of hurry-up-and-wait that are all just part of the hectic lifestyle he loves. Just having you by his side makes everything seem that much more vibrant and alive.

Max throws you a brilliant grin as he catches your eye, unable to resist drinking in how gorgeous you look, face glowing with curiosity and excitement at taking it all in. His breath catches a little at the warmth in your returned smile. Even after months together, he’s still constantly amazed that this funny, caring, wonderful woman actually agreed to be his.

A gentle hand on his arm breaks through Max’s reverie. He glances over to find his trainer indicating they should move on for the next pre-race commitment. Max nods easily, squeezing your hand as he slows.

“Why don’t you wait here? I’ll just be a couple minutes with Rupert going over some details, then we can grab some food, yeah?”

“Sounds perfect.” You lean in to press a lingering kiss to his cheek that makes his head swim. “I’ll be here.”

Max’s grin is so wide it borders on goofy as he tears himself away to follow Rupert toward the motorhome, throwing one last look over his shoulder. You’ve settled onto a stack of tires just around the corner, radiant smile still in place as you watch the surrounding action unfold.

His trainer’s voice pulls Max back to the present as they walk, and he does his best to shelf his heartsick infatuation for a few minutes to focus. This is it, the most famous race of the year. The track with no room for error during qualifying. He should be mentally locking in, triple checking every detail and sensor read-out.

Instead, his mind keeps drifting back to how soft your lips felt against his cheek, how undeniably right it feels to share this with you.

By the time their brief walk-through wraps up, Max is practically shaking with anticipation to rejoin you. Only as he turns back toward where he left you, jacket slung over his arm … you’re nowhere to be seen.

A crease forms between Max’s brows as he scans the scattered tires and tool chests, looking for your familiar figure. You couldn’t have gone far in such a short span.

Then a flash of movement from the Mercedes garage entrance catches his eye and Max feels his heart plummet. There you are, crouched down animatedly in front of the German team’s pit … with none other than Lewis Hamilton and his bloody bulldog Roscoe.

Of course. Of course Lewis-freaking-Hamilton would zoom in the second Max’s back was turned to try and work his charms on you. Even bringing that dumb dog out like the world’s most obnoxious prop to appeal to your soft heart for animals.

Max sees red, an irrational wave of protective jealousy surging through his veins as he watches you laugh at something Lewis says, completely charmed. Your hand strokes Roscoe’s broad head idly, pure affection written across your features.

And just like that, Max is moving before his brain can catch up, feet carrying him hastily across the pavement as if drawn by an invisible cord.

You glance up as he approaches, smile stretching even wider. “Max! Lewis was just-”

But Max pays your words no mind, slipping an arm around your waist and tugging you snugly against his side as he sizes up Lewis with narrowed eyes.

“Everything okay over here?” His gaze pointedly avoids the dog panting at their feet.

He sees confusion flicker across your features, but Lewis just chuckles good-naturedly.

“Just making a new friend is all! Your girl here is an absolute natural with Roscoe.” He shoots you a warm grin and motions to his dog, who thumps his stubby tail happily against the pavement.

Max feels his jaw tighten, irrational possessiveness flaring hot and bright as Lewis’ approving gaze lingers a little too long for his liking.

“Oh, the pup’s adorable!” You enthuse, dropping into a crouch again to ruffle Roscoe’s velvety ears. “You’re being such a good boy, aren’t you?”

Max scowls down at the dog, annoyed by his besotted panting and frantically wagging tail as you dole out affectionate pats. Like the mangy thing has any inkling how lucky he is.

Leave it to Lewis to trot out something irresistibly cute like that just to try and win you over.

Seeming to sense his silent brooding, you straighten back up and loop your arm through Max’s, squeezing his bicep gently. “I’m getting a little thirsty, actually. Do you mind if I run to the hospitality tent for a drink quickly?”

Lewis perks up instantly. “I can show you whe-”

“She knows the way,” Max cuts him off, perhaps a bit too sharply judging by your surprised blink. He softens his tone with an effort. “To Red Bull hospitality, I mean. I’ll walk you over.”

He turns on his heel, tugging you along in the wake of his hasty dismissal. Your brows knit together and you open your mouth, no doubt to question his odd behavior.

But Max stubbornly presses on, only slowing once you’ve turned past a row of transport trucks and the Mercedes garage is out of sight. He releases a long, slow breath, some of the weird, clawing tension ebbing away now that you’re back by his side.

“Everything alright?” You ask carefully, mouth curved into a bemused half-smile. “That was … a bit of an abrupt exit back there.”

Max snorts, shaking his head ruefully as you fall into step together. How is he supposed to put this in a way that doesn’t make him sound like a completely irrational, jealous idiot?

“Yeah, everything’s great. Just felt like it was time to move on before Lewis could really get going, you know?” He shoots you a sidelong look, arching one brow meaningfully. “Dude loves to hear himself talk.”

You huff out an amused breath, lips twitching like you’re struggling not to grin wider. “I’m not sure I’d go that far. He seems perfectly lovely from what I could tell.”

Max shrugs one shoulder, brushing off the statement and its implicit critique of his attitude. Lewis is a fine enough guy … he just also happens to be a chronic flirt who clearly recognizes a beautiful, charming woman when he sees one. And that activates Max’s protective instincts on a level he didn’t quite anticipate until he saw Lewis zeroing in on you like that.

You drift closer as you walk, bumping his shoulder with yours playfully.

“You know, it was kind of sweet, actually — him bringing Roscoe out to meet me. I think he knew I’m a sucker for a cute dog.”

Sweet. Right. Because Lewis was just doing it all out of the goodness of his bleeding heart.

“Don’t you mean Roscoe is the real competition here?” Max tries for a teasing tone, only half-joking. “Pretty sure that mutt was the one working overtime to charm you.”

He tosses you an exaggerated leer, stoking the banter to cover his lingering irrational annoyance at the entire situation. If you noticed his blatant brush-off of Lewis, you’re being mercifully subtle about calling it out.

Sure enough, you lift one delicately arched brow, lips curved into an indulgent smile. “Is that so? And here I thought it was just Lewis trying to get on my good side. My, what a dilemma!”

Max chuckles despite himself at your playful tone, some of the weird tension ebbing further from his shoulders. Of course you’re not fazed by all this nonsense — you never are. Not only are you unfailingly kind and patient, but you clearly know him well enough by now to recognize when his protective instincts are causing the occasional bout of unreasonable jealousy.

Even though he swears up and down he isn’t actually jealous, not really. Just … being cautious after finally finding someone as incredible as you.

Red Bull hospitality comes into view up ahead, its distinctive energy drink logos splashed across the entrance. You start to slow as you approach, hand trailing lightly down Max’s arm until your fingers brush his.

“I wasn’t gone that long, you know,” you point out, regarding him with those warm, knowing eyes. “I wouldn’t just run off and leave you behind on your big weekend.”

Something in your tone, soft yet insistent, assures Max that you see right through his childishly competitive display. He doesn’t even have the decency to look sheepish as you continue.

“Max, you don’t have to worry about anyone trying to steal me away or whatever it is that’s going through that handsome head of yours. I’m yours, remember?”

Your fingers tangle through his and your free hand comes up to cup his cheek, grounding him fully in the moment. He nods slowly, leaning into your touch as the last wisps of stupid, needless jealousy evaporate under the warmth of your fond gaze.

“You’re right, I know. I do remember.” He turns his head slightly, brushing his lips across your palm. “And I’m yours.”

“Exactly.” You raise up on your tiptoes to dust a feather-light kiss across his mouth that leaves Max’s head spinning delightfully. “Now, what do you say we get something to drink so we can enjoy the rest of the weekend together?”

Max grins, feeling lighter than he has all day as he catches your hand and tugs you toward the tent entrance.

“Lead the way, liefje. I’ll follow you anywhere.”

And he absolutely would, too — past Lewis and Roscoe and any irrational jealousy that rears its head. Because having you by his side through all the whirlwind of Formula 1, getting to share this wild life with the woman he loves more and more every day?

It’s the only competition Max has any interest in winning.

[spacedace]

Still thinking about the Social Worker Jazz concept that @gilbirda posted about and it's slowly turning into a full Anger Management fic send help

-

Jason at length - much longer than it really should have taken really - set the resume down.

The new Social Worker’s resume. Because she was there, in his office, trying to convince him to hire her as a member of his criminal organization.

Crime Alley’s new social worker. A bright eyed Midwestern transplant from some tiny speck of a place that only qualified as a city because there was nothing bigger in a hundred miles in any direction to claim otherwise. The new social worker who had a Psy D. and three masters degrees and who had graduated Valedictorian. The one that had high paying private gigs lined up all over the country with the offering companies fighting over her.

The one who had, apparently, decided to take a shit job in Gotham’s shoddy social services department instead. The one that got kicked to Crime Alley - which was its own division despite technically being a small neighborhood in the grand scheme of things - within her first month. Supposedly for the sole purpose of scaring her off or getting her killed for all the questions she was asking and secret dealings she was sticking her nose into.

That social worker.

“I’m gonna need you to run this by me again.” Jason said, never so grateful for the voice modulator in his helmet as he was in that moment. It stripped out the bewilderment that had bled through into his words and made him sound stoic instead.

“I’d like to work for you.” The social worker - one Dr. Jasmine Nightingale - repeated primly. Back straight, clothes neat - if skewing more on the librarian side of professional - expression confident and hopeful. Completely and utterly oblivious of how fucking insane she sounded. “I was told that you’re the person in charge of Crime Alley.”

He resisted the urge to scrub at his face. It’d just look weird with his helmet on and not do anything to actually settle him in that moment anyway. “I understood that part.”

“Look, Doc,” She earned a doctorate and she was crazy enough to waltz into the office of one of Gotham’s most powerful Crime Lords, he’d be respectful about using her proper title at least, even if he suspected she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. “You’re going to have to tell me why. I was under the impression the only reason you ended up dumped on our end of the city ws because you wouldn’t play ball. But now you want to sign up for my crew?”

Nightingale frowned a little at that.

“Is that what people are saying?”

“What else are they gonna say?” Jason answered, leaning back in his seat, “Head of the department only dumps Crime Alley on folks he don’t like. And everyone knows he doesn’t like anyone that can’t or won’t play his game by his rules.”

“Alright, well. I’ll give you that.” Nightingale conceded, “Payne doesn’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. But for the record,” She added giving him a wry smile, as if sharing wry smiles with Red Hood was just something people did, “I asked to be assigned to the Park Row and Bowery neighborhoods.”

“You wanted to work here.”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

Nightingale laughed. It was a bright sound. Not especially clear or pretty, but warm and welcoming in a way that carefully calculated giggles or overdone guffaws couldn’t be. Something with real and honest amusement in it, that encouraged those nearby to laugh along. Not the kind of involuntary, nervous chuckling people tended to slip into when they thought they had pissed someone that scared them off.

She just wasn’t intimidated by him at all, was she?

Behind his helmet, Jason found himself smiling. Just a bit.

“I’m serious.” She assured, blue-green eyes meeting the dark stare of his helmet without a moment of hesitation. He watched as she brushed a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear and out of the way. She’d woven it all into a practical, neat braid but a few sly pieces had snuck out to bounce around her. Gilding her quiet professionalism with a playful charm that worked well with her academia but make it cottagecore kindergarten teacher aesthetic.

“I’ll admit, Gotham wasn’t part of my plan when I first graduated. Time and choices take you funny places sometimes.” She plucked an invisible bit of lint off her soft blue cardigan, not nervous but absent as her gaze went distant for a moment. Thinking back on the events that had led her to his fine city. In a blink, those sharp eyes were back to focusing entirely on him. “But Gotham is where I am now, and I want to help.”

She looked at him, a serious, determined expression settling easily on her face. “The city as a whole has so much chaos and crime breaking out all the time.” No censure or horror in her voice, just a neutral fact to be observed. “But where the rest of the city has millions of dollars poured into it by various foundations or charities run by the Waynes, Park Row is largely ignored.”

Jason watched as steeliness sharpened her gaze, the blue-green shifting from the shine of a bird’s wing to the warning hue of something poisonous and deadly. “No one deserves that. No one.” Her chin tilted up, proud but not imperious. “So yes, I want to work here. There are people in Park Row and the Bowery who need help and I refuse to let any of them feel like they are going to be ignored.”

Jason considered her.

Really looked at her. Pealing back his initial off handed impression of her as some clueless transplant in over her head with no idea of what she was doing or what she was poking her nose into to find the real woman beneath. Her confident poise, her clear unshakable belief, her unflinching willingness to look danger in the eye and not blink. The tense curve of her frown, the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, the simmering anger beneath it all. There was an edge to her, too. Something sharp and dangerously well hidden by the cardigan and folksy charm of her accent.

It was personal for the woman before him, Jason realized. Maybe not Crime Alley specifically, but something about the whole situation. The treatment the neighborhood and its residents received from the city at large, from those even beyond it.

Crime Alley wasn’t a place that received much in the way of charitable thought. The average joe with their house in Somerset and job at some corporate shithole hating every second of their life but thinking at least I don’t live in Crime Alley. Those asshole hoity-toites in city hall throwing money around equally between shit that’d get them re-elected and their off-shore slush funds in the Caymens doing their damn level best to pretend the black mark on the other end of the city just didn’t exist. Bruce, flooding the entire city with charitable programs and carefully constructed infrastructures shying away from the manifested grief and trauma that was the place he watched his parents get murdered.

For the most part no one from outside of the Alley gave a shit about the Alley other than as a place to avoid at all costs. And most of the time those natives that manages to claw their way out into better and brighter lives didn’t ever turn to glance back. Orpheus could have learned a thing or to from an ex-Alley Kid who managed to eek out a steady 9-to-5 and move to Burnley.

And something about that seemed to piss Dr. Jasmine Nightingale Psy. D right the fuck off.

He could see why Bill said he liked her enough to let her in.

“Alright.” He said, tilting his head, watching the woman seated across from him carefully, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Why you’re trying to get on my payroll.”

“I’m not trying to get on your payroll.” She said, some of the glinting edge softening, but the steel remaining. Strong and unyielding. “I’m trying to get into your community outreach program.”

Jason thanked god and all the saints once again for the gift of his helmet. That baby had saved his ass more times than he could count both by keeping his head in one piece and keeping his stupefied expressions wrapped up and hidden from view. Dr. Nightingale was one hell of a woman to make him have to rely on that fact twice in one conversation.

“Wasn’t aware that was something I had.”

Nightingale, not fortunate enough to have a full face covering helmet of her own, had nothing to hide her stupefied expression behind. Jason had a feeling she might have removed it to make sure he saw even if she did though. She looked like she had caught him eating glue like it was a cheese stick.

“Yes you do.” She said, sounding deeply confused but unshakable confident in what she was saying. “I’ve seen it. The soup kitchens, the shelters, the collection boxes for donating old clothes, the after school day care.” Nightingale ticked off on her fingers, “I’ve lived here for less than two weeks and I’ve lost count of all the things I’ve seen setup to help people struggling in the area that I’ve been very reliably informed you and your organization are behind.”

Oh.

Those.

“Those aren’t part of some community outreach program.” He said, “We are simply locals offering services for our neighbors.”

He watched as her caught-him-eating-glue expression shifted into one that said she’d stumbled upon him licking electrical sockets for a mid-day pick-me-up instead. He had to give it to her, the woman was not afraid to let one of the most dangerous men in the city know she thought he was a fucking idiot.

“Let me see if I understand this right.” She said, and he appreciated that there wasn’t any kind of condescension in her voice, even though she very clearly thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly from the top of a three story building. “You have a large group of people working together to plan, organize and execute multiple services in your area - your community, if you will - that provide aid and support to those that otherwise would not receive it. Reaching out with your available time and resources to offer these services, that you provide. For free.”

Alright, Jason got it. He had stumbled ass backwards into creating a community outreach program. But he wasn’t just going to let her think she won this one. He was Red Hood, he had a reputation to uphold here.

“What makes you think any of that is free?” He tilted his head at just the right angle, the one that cast shadows across the planes of his helmet and made him look hell-touched and terrifying. “Just because we don’t charge money, doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay.”

Dr. Nightingale, dressed like a damn kindergarten teacher, laughed at him.

[simpjaes]

OUT OF SIGHT, MIND, AND CONTROL ── masterlist.

!!minors do not interact!! a mini series where you get eaten out by your co worker, then your neighbor, then both of them at the same time.

OUT OF SIGHT. [p.js]

Jay, your normal, kind, and generally professional co-worker is apparently, also, not that professional at all. What was supposed to be another long night of overtime turns into you trying to meet a deadline, while Jay makes damn sure he meets an expectation.

WORDCOUNT― tbd [5k or less] PAIRING― park jongseong x afab reader CONTENT― jay is generally more shy and stoic compared to muncher #2, he shows you a different side to him after becoming close friends during a work project. you both have the same deadline, but he's sure you'll manage...maybe. STATUS― in the works....

▸ join my tag list to be notified

OUT OF MIND. [s.jy]

Your kind and loving neighbor can sometimes be a little too kind. Offering more than just a snack or two when he makes his bi-weekly grocery run, oh yes, much more than that.

WORDCOUNT― tbd [5k or less] PAIRING― sim jaeyun x afab reader CONTENT― jake is cocky, confident, but really desperate and not ashamed of doing embarrassing things to get off. "gotta be quiet" scenario, he's very desperate and demanding, doesn't care if you gotta work or attend in-call meetings. STATUS― in the works....

▸ join my tag list to be notified

OUT OF CONTROL. [p.js, s.jy]

Unfortunately for the two men who cannot stand sharing, there's a birthday girl who needs some head. Sometimes friendly competition isn't a bad thing, you suppose...if that's what they call competition, anyway.

WORDCOUNT― tbd [5k or less] PAIRING― sim jaeyun x afab reader x park jongseong CONTENT― lil bit of jealousy, lil bit of guys making out, lots of pussy eating, not under your desk STATUS― in the works....

▸ join my tag list to be notified

psa: the fics will be linked here as i finish them, they will not be long fics as this is strictly a mini series.

[intromortal]

―ɴᴏᴛ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ

bodyguard!p.js x nepobaby!reader

―wc: 10k est (well that was a fucking lie)

―cw: SMUTTTT, jealousy, feelings of unworthiness, possessive jay, angst, some lack of communication we love overthinking, not very professional behavior, more to be added

―release date: 10th june postponed

― series masterlist

―preview

You truly were a vixen, Jay though to himself, a dirty dirty vixen.

You had lured him in slowly. First with longing glances, your eyes flicking from his own to his lips whenever he talked to you. Then, you started trying to get his attention by dropping hints about your slow sexual life. “It’s not like I don’t have options,” you’d say over lunch while peering up from your cosmopolitan, the peel of a blood orange always adorning the rim of the glass as per your request. You’d fix your eyes on him, the hairs on his neck standing at the intensity of your gaze, “It’s just that none of these options seem fun or appealing enough.”

You could have anyone you wanted, and Jay knew that very well. Gorgeous gorgeous face and long thick lashes batting at him while feigning innocence from time to time, but you just happened to have a weak spot for what you couldn't have.

-

Jay suspected you would do something drastic when you eventually got frustrated enough. Something like kissing him out of the blue maybe. He could even say he was prepared to reject it, reject you, forbidden fruit luring him in. Gluttony hidden behind the promise of bliss.

What he did not expect was for you to get in the middle of the backseat while he was driving you to your penthouse after an event, position each one of your heeled feet on the back of the front seats, flip your gown up and slide your fingers inside your pretty white lace panties. Right where he could see.

He paid you no mind for the entirety of the car ride, never once telling you to stop, gaze fixed on the road ahead. You’d think he was completely unaffected if it weren’t for how hard he gripped the steering wheel, the veins on his hands bulging and knuckles turning white.

He even got up from his seat once you arrived home calmly as usual, only the shutting of his door louder than it needed to be. He opened yours silently, walked with you inside the elevator to get you inside your penthouse.

But when the door of your apartment shut close behind you he was all over you in an instant, teeth clashing against yours in a frenzied, passionate kiss. Sensual pants and rips of fabric the only sounds filling the huge modernly decorated space. He didn’t even allow you to walk to your room, you tortured him for months, even the thought of waiting for a second more than necessary was unfathomable to Jay. He wanted you then and he was gonna have you whenever and however he pleased, he was owed that much.

He had you spread for him on the big sectional couch in your living room, holding the back of your thighs as he pounded into you with force he never knew he was capable of. He had you propped over the armrest, stomach red from the roughness of the material and ass up, red from the roughness of his hands, your upper body pushed forward each thrust as the skin of his balls slapped against your behind. He had you facing him, holding yourself up on your arms, legs spread over his as his hips drove inside you from underneath, lifting from the soft carpet.

You two kept fucking after, sporadically escaping from the public eye to hide in a dressing room, his thick fingers inside your mouth to silence your moans. In the car parked away somewhere abandoned, riding him in the backseat, hands gripping the front seats as you bounced on his cock. In the shower of an expensive hotel overseas, your hair in a makeshift ponytail in his hand as he fucked your sore mouth on his length, twitching every time you held eye contact with him through your gags. You even managed to sneak him in your office, his tongue lapping you up from under the desk, hidden from the eyes of the businessman sat in front of you.

It went on like this for a while, before he showed up to your front door one time in the dead of the night, soaked from head to toe from the downpour descending outside.

or

Jay wants you for himself more than he would ever dare to admit, but knows all you're in for is a bit of forbidden fun.

[hollyseb]

A COLLISION OF FATE - CEO!BUCKY X ASSISTANT READER (one-shot)

warnings; swearing, minors dni

2.4k words

summary; As an assistant to the powerful CEO Bucky Barnes, you’ve always kept things strictly professional—maybe even a little distant. But when a chaotic morning commute turns your world upside down, you find yourself relying on your boss in unexpected ways.

authors note; this is my first fic in a while so please let me know what you think!

Fuck.

You couldn’t help but pull the bed sheets over your head as your alarm sounded. You’d slept terribly, anticipation stewing in your chest all night long. A huge day at work loomed ahead. Your boss trusted you with organising a client meeting for a massive company project, and despite your meticulous preparations, anxiety gnawed at you relentlessly.

This marks your fourth month as an assistant to Mr Barnes, CEO of Barnes Industries. Your boss embodies power and leadership, standing well over six feet. He has a presence that’s impossible to ignore, although you often find yourself trying to; avoiding his piercing gaze, shrinking away from his broad figure. He intimidated you.

You’d learned to anticipate his needs, not just to impress him but perhaps as an attempt to keep your conversations to a minimum. Although you had managed to settle into your role, growing accustomed to your boss’ high standards, you often felt a sense of apprehension. You were overwhelmed by how important he was. Mr Barnes wasn’t just your boss - he was a force of nature.

The two of you maintained a strictly professional relationship, even lingering towards slightly cold sometimes. You liked to do what he needed you to do, and then get out of his way. However, every now and then, you’d catch him watching you with a look that lingered a moment too long. You’d always assume there was something on your face, or a smudge on your shirt, anything that might explain why he was staring. But when you checked, there was never anything there.

For Bucky, it started with the little things. He noticed how you always made sure his coffee was exactly how he liked it, down to the last detail, even on the most hectic mornings. You remembered the smallest preferences he had, the things he rarely even thought about himself—like the way you would quietly replace the pens in his office with the specific brand he preferred, or how you always ensured there was a bottle of his favorite water in the conference room before every meeting. These weren’t just the actions of a diligent assistant; they were gestures that spoke of someone who genuinely cared, someone who paid attention to him in a way that no one else ever had.

Your snoozed alarm began to sound again, piercing your thoughts like a violent shriek. Just get through the meeting, you told yourself, before ultimately deciding to drag yourself out of bed. The thought repeated like a mantra. Is it normal to feel this worried about disappointing your boss? You thought, before swatting away the idea. You didn’t need to focus on that for now.

A hot shower did little to wash away the anxiety that clinged to you. Your movements were robotic as you went through your morning routine, driven by the pressure of the meeting.

With a sigh, you reached for your phone, the screen lighting up with a soft glow. 7:45 AM. It felt as though the numbers were taunting you. You ran a hand down your face, bracing yourself for the day.

Time to go.

After locking the door to your small, cozy apartment, you made your way down the narrow, communal staircase. The morning air hitting you with a welcomed bite as you stepped outside into the car park.

You slid into the drivers seat of your aging Mini, the familiar creak of the door and worn leather seat beneath you provided a familiar comfort. It wasn't much, but it was yours, the car you'd had since you were 17. You shifted into gear and gripped the steering wheel, the hum of the engine almost grounding you.

Just get through the meeting, you repeated, merging into the flow of morning traffic. You let your mind drift to the day's plans, mentally rehearsing the things you had to organise when you arrived at the office… calling the clients to confirm their attendance, setting up the meeting room, dropping the itinerary off at Mr Barnes’ desk.

As you approached a red light just a few blocks from the office, you felt a fleeting sense of calm. Your heartbeat, which had been a relentless drumbeat of anxiety, finally began to settle into a more regular rhythm. The office was so close, the meeting so imminent. All you had to do now was make it through the last stretch of traffic and face the day.

Without warning, a loud, violent crashing noise shattered the calm. The force of the impact threw you forward, your seatbelt straining against your body painfully. The contents of your bag spilling into the passenger seat footwell alongside the sound of crunching metal. Your mind was blank, struggling to catch up with what had just happened.

What the -?

Your heart raced, your breaths leaving in shallow and quick successions. The realisation hit you like a second wave of impact - you’d been rear-ended.

You gripped the steering wheel like a vice, catching sight of your pale face as movement caught your attention in the rear view mirror. the driver of the car behind you was already out of his vehicle, storming towards you.

Rather than waiting for you to get out the car, he began shouting at you through the closed window. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He shouted, his voice echoing violently.

He looked to be in his mid thirties, dressed in a wrinkled suit, face red with anger and eyes practically bulging out his head.

You took a deep breath, adrenaline surging through your veins. Stay calm, don’t escalate. You unbuckle your seatbelt, ignoring the dull pain of where it had dug into you, stepping out your beloved car.

“Do you even know how to fucking drive?” He yelled, arms flailing. “I’m going to be late for work because of you, stupid bitch”

You were taken aback by his blatant profanity. Humiliation rising in your body as bystanders gawked at the interaction.

You blinked, your nerves fraying under his aggression. “I was stopped at the light. You hit me,” you said, voice trembling.

”Bullshit!” He spat, inching towards your face. ���You stopped like a fucking moron and now look at my fucking car!”, he pointed in the direction of his vehicle, a sleek black BMW, barely scratched.

The sight of your car, however, made your stomach turn. The bumper was shrewd across the concrete, the metal contorted dramatically. You’d come off much worse than him. You could feel tears burning at the corners of your eyes.

“This is all your fault!”, he spat, voice dripping with venom. “You’re going to pay every cent for the damage you’ve caused.”

Before you could respond, he lunged closer, jabbing a finger in your face. “Do you even realise how fucking pathetic you look right now? Crying because you’ve ruined my car-“

The man was interrupted. A firm, authoritative voice cutting through his ramblings like steel.

“Is there a problem here?”

You looked up, your heart pounding, and there he was - Bucky Barnes. The sight of him hit you like a tidal wave. For a split second, you were frozen, breath catching in your throat.

Bucky’s sharp blue eyes were fixed on the angry driver, his expression a mask of controlled authority. Your eyes shifted between the two, noticing how Bucky towered over the man.

The man’s voice was quieter than before, his composure tense. “Who the hell are you?”

Bucky stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “I’m her boss,” he said, his tone calm but edged with a warning. “And I suggest you step back before you make this any worse.”

The anger in the man’s stance faltered, replaced by a grudging recognition that he was outmatched. With a final glare towards you, he stormed back to his car.

You exhaled, realising you’d been holding your breath. “Thank you,” you murmured, voice shaky from adrenaline.

Bucky’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes softening a fraction. “Are you okay?” He asked, his voice low and filled with a warmth which contrasted the icy authority he had shown moments before.

You watched the way his eyes trailed down your shaking body for any obvious signs of injury.

You nodded in response. “Y-yes, I’m okay. Just a bit shaken”, a forced smile pursing against your lips.

He leaned down slightly, lowering himself to your height, his face inches from yours. Placing a hand on each of your shoulders. “You don’t have to put a brave face on with me. Are you really okay?”

The depth of his concern was more than you expected, combined with the gentleness of his touch, you felt like your head was spinning.

”Thank you, Mr Barnes”, your voice barely more than a whisper, “I’m okay, I promise”.

Bucky’s expression softened even more. “Let me take you to the office. I’ll sort you out and make sure everything’s taken care of.” Bucky said, his voice low and earnest.

His words soothed you. He placed a firm but gentle hand on your mid-back, guiding you towards his car. The warmth of his touch was a comforting contrast to the cold air. You found solace in the protective way he guided you.

When you reached his car, Bucky opened the passenger door for you with a quiet, practiced grace. His movements were deliberate and careful, as if he wanted to ensure you felt as secure as possible.

Bucky closed the door gently and walked around to the driver’s side. As he settled into the driver’s seat, he adjusted the rear view mirror, his gaze flicking over to you. “You don’t have to call me Mr. Barnes, when it’s just us two. James will do.”

You met his gaze in the mirror, feeling a sudden rush of warmth. You faltered for a split second under the heat of his stare. “Okay, James”, you said quietly.

He gave a small, approving smile, his eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. “That’s better,” he said, his voice low. “Let’s get you to the office.”

Your boss wouldn’t let you know, but the way you trembled when that man was yelling at you, the way his words reduced you to feeling small and insignificant, made Bucky’s blood boil. His usual calm and composed demeanor was barely holding back the fury simmering beneath the surface. The sight of you being treated so harshly, so unfairly, sparked something primal in him—something protective and fierce.

Arriving at the office, Bucky parked with a practised ease and opened your door, offering a supportive hand as you stepped out. Eyes glazing over you again to see if you were moving with any discomfort.

As you walked into the building, you were met with a flurry of activity. Bucky led you to your room, settling you into your office chair with a soft, reassuring hand on your back.

“Take a moment to breathe,” he instructed, his voice a mix of warmth and authority. “I’ll handle the meeting for now, okay? You’ve had a rough morning.”

You nodded gratefully, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. Bucky made a few quick phone calls and sent some emails, managing the meeting logistics with the efficiency and competence that defined him.

Throughout the morning, Bucky periodically checked in on you. Each time, his concern was evident, his questions simple but genuine. “How are you feeling? Do you need anything?” he would ask, always with that soft, protective tone.

By lunchtime, Bucky made sure you had something to eat. He watched with a mixture of satisfaction and relief as you ate, noting the gradual return of color to your cheeks.

As the workday wound down, you wrapped up your tasks and prepared to head home. Bucky had been a steadfast support throughout the day, ensuring that you felt taken care of and that everything went smoothly despite the morning’s chaos.

As you gathered your things, Bucky approached with a rare, genuine smile. “How are you holding up?”

“Much better, thanks to you,” you said, returning his smile. “I really appreciate everything today.”

”Well I would love to drive you home, but I still have a few more things to wrap up. One of my drivers will take you, okay?”, your boss said, leaning against the door frame of your office.

You opened your mouth to politely decline, feeling that he had already done enough for you today. However, you faltered when he raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his expression, you knew there was no point in arguing.

“Alright,” you agreed, feeling a warmth spread through you at his insistence. “Thank you.”

“Good,” he said, satisfied, a part of him wanted to grin at your obedience as he circled back to his office.

The ride home was quiet, the events of the day replaying in your mind. You were exhausted, but there was also a strange sense of anticipation that you couldn’t quite explain.

When the car pulled up outside your apartment, you thanked the driver and stepped out. The cool evening air was refreshing after the long day, and you were eager to wash the day away with a hot shower and a bottle of wine.

But as you approached your apartment building, something caught your eye. Parked in your usual spot was a familiar-looking Mini, only this one was brand new. The gleaming paint, the spotless interior—it was unmistakably the same make and model as your beloved old car, but this one was perfect in every way.

There’s no way, you thought.

Your heart pounded as you took a hesitant step closer, your mind racing to process what you were seeing. There was no mistaking it—this was a gift, one that had been carefully chosen to replace what you had lost earlier today.

A note was tucked under the windshield wiper. With trembling hands, you pulled it free and unfolded the paper. The handwriting was unmistakable.

You’ve had a rough day. I hope this makes it a little easier. – James

A rush of emotions overwhelmed you, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You never expected something like this. Bucky hadn’t just replaced your car—he’d chosen something that he knew would mean something to you, something that was a perfect reflection of who you were.

As you stood there, staring at the car that now felt like a symbol of so much more, you couldn’t help but feel that the boundaries between you and Bucky had shifted in a way that couldn’t be undone.

A collision of fate.

————————————————————-

TAGLIST!

@sashaisready @matchat3a @writingpastmybedtime @melsunshine @lex-the-flex @himawariizephyr @jbbarnesgirl @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @sagebarness @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @selella @armystay89 @globetrotter28 @iwritewithpenandpaper @casa-boiardi @winterslove1917 @buckydarling09 @kandis-mom @scott-loki-barnes @mrsevans90

[ghostofhyuck]

NCT Dream as your concert boyfriend!

AN: TDS3 in Manila is NEARRRRRR im so excited im freaking out. (My friend and I got our seats upgraded IM SEEING 119 LIVE IN FRONT ROW KSKFJSDKDSK) also non-idol! dreamies. 

Mark Lee

A hundred percent concert boyfriend! He's always interested in discovering new music so he doesn't mind joining you in watching your favorite boy group's concert. He'll listen to you ramble about your bias and even dresses according to the dress code! You two tend to match each other. Also has a small merch on his bag too, maybe a photocard holder of your bias lol. He's also not shy to ask for freebies and other fans find it sweet that he's saying it's for his girlfriend. :<

Huang Renjun

Another one who's a professional concert boyfriend! I'd like to think that Renjun's a fanboy too but he just stans a different group. He'll still accompany you because he got to make sure you're still his girlfriend at the end of the concert, jk. Oh, he also loves taking pictures of you and it alway turns out great! He asks for freebies too and always asks for two because he wants to keep some freebies for himself. And he also makes sure he enjoys the concert, listens to the setlist weeks before the concert. 

Lee Jeno

You love giving freebies so you need a helping hand in this one. You managed to drag your boyfriend in this one and yes, everyone was freaking out at that good-looking fanboy who's giving out freebies, even though Jeno doesn't know who the members are lol. Such a gentleman, he carries your bag and everything but during the concert, he just watches the group attentively, probably impressed by their performances but glances at you every time you scream your bias name lol. 

Lee Donghyuck

OH. This man, he doesn't want to go to the concert. He doesn't want to see you fangirl over your bias who he said, "doesn't even know you exist," but here he is, on the barricade with you. His body is aching and he's being squished by fans but his priority is still your safety. He makes sure that you're not hurting!!! Probably has his other arm wrapped around your waist. He doesn't want to admit it but he did enjoy the concert and thinks that the group was talented, but he's still a bit jealous though. 

Na Jaemin

SCREAMS, I think that Na Jaemin is your boyfriend turned professional photographer during concerts. He's just there carrying his camera (if it's allowed lol) but he opts for his phone camera all the time. He got to make sure that your photos will turn out great. Takes photo of you everywhere and will praise you all the time for being so beautiful in your concert outfit >:(((. ALSO he films the performances and ments so that you get to fangirl without having to worry about your fancams. 

Zhong Chenle

LISTEN!!! Chenle's THAT concert boyfriend. He'll spoil you rotten first by buying you tickets. Buys you merch, concert outfit and even lightstick! Probably would book a hotel room near the venue if it's too far from your place, so that it wouldn't be a hassle for the both of you. Asks for freebies if he thinks it's cute and he'll keep it for himself though lol. He enjoys the concert though! And after the concert he'll take you out to eat at a fast-food chain because he knows how tired and hungry you are. 

Park Jisung

You probably have to look after your tall but shy boyfriend during the concert lol. He dresses according to the dress code so that he would blend with crowd. But still, he's still a shy baby!!! You two are holding hands throughout the whole concert until you two are in your seat, waiting for the concert to start. Observes the concert especially their performances, you could probably hear his small "wow" or "that's so cool" every minute. After the concert, he probably has a bias too. 

[artificial-transmutations]

Give in to the Midnight Grind

Milo could hear the thumbing bass from inside his patrol car, as he parked in front of the seedy club. It was hardly the first time the neighbors complained about the excessive noise, but it was the first time for Milo to be sent here, and also his first time going alone.

Usually, young officers like Milo - or Miles Dawson, as it read on his uniform - didn't go anywhere alone, but as it happened, his designated partner for the evening had called in sick. Milo had volunteered to go by himself, since he wanted to prove that he could be trusted to go solo. And, asking a club to turn down the music was hardly a dangerous task.

He checked his uniform again in the patrol car's rear mirror and adjusted his collar one final time. It was important to look professional, after all.

Once he was satisfied with the result, Milo exited the car and locked it before approaching the club entrance.

"The Midnight Grind" was hardly one of the most prestigious clubs in town, and the rundown facade certainly didn't do it any favors. However, that didn't seem to stop the long line of people wanting to enter. The long line of men, Milo corrected himself. Either the nightclub was very bad at attracting female customers or it was a gay club. Considering the provocative name and the leather-clad bouncer, Milo strongly suspected the latter.

Of course, gay nightclubs weren't illegal, and Milo didn't plan on causing any trouble. It was a bit uncomfortable for him, since he was straight, but then again, Milo wasn't here to party, he was only here to tell them to keep the volume down.

When he approached the bouncer, he put on his most winning smile and nodded to the burly bald man with the many tattoos.

"Good evening, Sir. I would like to speak to the management of this establishment."

The bouncer shot him a scrutinizing look and then looked back to his patrol car. Milo had expected his uniform to be enough proof for his official capacity, but perhaps, it wasn't entirely unusual for patrons to show up in a similar outfit.

"Badge." The bouncer grumbled in a voice so deep that it sounded like rocks grinding against each other.

"Oh, of course. One second."

Milo was a bit embarrassed that he hadn't thought of showing his ID earlier and brought out his official badge, still shiny and new. He showed it to the bouncer, who studied it carefully, before nodding and stepping aside, mumbling something into his radio.

"They will send someone to the entrance. Wait here."

"Thank you, sir."

Milo felt uneasy due to the looks of the men waiting in line, but none of them seemed to be particularly hostile, so Milo just smiled politely. A few of the men even seemed to check him out and one or two even winked, which Milo chose to ignore.

Finally, after several awkward minutes, another guy came out. This one was a bit younger, but also dressed in a skintight leather harness, a pair of tight jeans and combat boots. Milo's eyes wandered across his exposed skin, the tattooed chest and the piercings, but the guy didn't seem to notice and smiled widely.

"Officer? My name is Adam. The boss will see you now. Follow me."

Milo felt relief wash over him and was grateful that he could finally escape the hungry looks of the people in the queue, as he followed the young man.

Inside, the music was even louder, and Milo found himself surrounded by half-naked bodies, dancing, drinking and occasionally even making out. It was a bit of an uncomfortable sight for him, but at least the music drowned out any moaning or panting. Still, Milo considered it the best idea to just look straight ahead, avoiding any eye contact.

Adam led him to a set of stairs that went up and to a small balcony overlooking the dance floor. There, a muscular man with a neatly trimmed beard, a full sleeve tattoo and a tight black shirt was sitting on a comfortable looking sofa, smoking a cigar. His legs were spread wide, and he was clearly wearing a pair of skin-tight leather pants that did a very bad job of hiding his bulge. Well, they probably weren't designed to *hide* anything.

Adam said something, but Milo couldn't understand what was being said, so Adam repeated himself.

"The boss will see you now, Officer."

The "boss" regarded Milo from head to toe, which didn't help him feel more comfortable. To escape the situation, Milo began to speak, loud enough to be heard over the blaring and thumbing music.

"Good evening, Sir. I am Milo - I mean, Miles Dawson, Officer, actually, from the city police force and..."

Damn, he needed more routine for that, Milo thought as he stumbled over his words, but the muscular man cut him off.

"It's okay, Officer Milo. Sit down."

Milo didn't feel too comfortable being addressed by his nickname, especially not by this man, but at least he called him 'officer'. Milo gladly sat down opposite of the other man, who took another drag of his cigar.

"Thank you. What is your name, Sir?"

"You can call me 'boss'. Everyone does."

That of course wasn't according to protocol, but again, Milo didn't want to cause any trouble. In his opinion, the police were there to be as kind and helpful as possible, servants of the public more than anything else.

"Alright, Mr. ...Boss. I am here on behalf of the city police because..."

"Would you like something to drink?"

The boss asked and blew a cloud of smoke right into Milo's face, who tried to avoid breathing in the thick smoke and coughing.

"Uhm, no, thank you. I'm on duty."

"A little bit of alcohol won't hurt you, officer. But have it your way. A virgin cocktail, then?"

Again, Milo didn't want to be rude and simply nodded, smiling. If there was no alcohol involved, it wasn't against the rules.

The boss snapped his fingers, and a half-naked waiter came with a large and colorful drink, putting it down in front of Milo. The straw was formed like an erect penis. Of course. But under no circumstances, Milo wanted to come off as homophobic, so he took a small sip from the obscene straw before clearing his voice.

"Anyway, as I said, the city police were contacted by the neighbors because the music here is very loud. Now, I'm not trying to cause any trouble. We all know how it is when you have a party and have some fun, but I have to ask you to tone it just a bit."

Surprisingly enough, the boss nodded.

"I understand, Officer. Of course, we don't want to cause trouble either. I guess we got carried away a bit, some music is best enjoyed loudly. But whom am I telling that? I see you found a liking to the music as well."

Milo followed his gaze to his own leg and was surprised to see it bobbing to the rhythm. When did that happen? He didn't remember deciding to do that.

"Ah, yes, it's very catchy."

Embarrassed by his lack of control, he took another big sip from the sweet drink.

"Isn't it? But as it happens, we might have to close early today, anyway."

"Why is that?", Milo asked, before he could stop himself.

The boss shrugged his shoulder. "We're short staffed. The flu. Our stripper for today called in sick."

Milo's gaze wandered over the dancing crowd and stopped at the exclusively male dancers in the cages slightly above the dance floor, moving their sweaty bodies to the beat of the music while wearing only skimpy glittering underwear.

"Do you like what you see?" asked the boss, as he took another drag from his cigar.

"What? Oh, no, haha. I mean, sure, you have a great establam... a great club."

Damn, Milo's thoughts felt like they were moving through cotton candy, probably because of the bad air in here. A bit of ventila... a few fans wouldn't hurt, especially since the boss was still smoking his cigar.

"I see, I'm just asking because of your massive boner." The boss said casually.

Milo looked down, and indeed, a prominent tent was visible in his trousers, stretching the fabric uncomfortably.

"Shit, I'm sorry. I... I have no idea how that happened."

"Relax Milo. I'm not judging. If you like the show, feel free to watch some more."

The voice of the boss sounded reassuring, and Milo took another sip, as his eyes returned to the dancers. They did look pretty hot, he had to admit, and for a moment or two, Milo let his mind wander. What would it be like to dance on a pole like that? To show his body, to flaunt his muscles and to show off his cock and his ass, to grind on a pole like he was riding a dick...

Wait, what was he thinking? He wasn't like that at all! He wasn't a dancer, and he wasn't gay. He wiped the sweat from his brow.

"Are you alright, Milo?" asked the boss, still with a smirk on his face and the cigar in his mouth.

"If you feel uncomfortable, you can take off that jacket of yours, if you like."

Something about this felt wrong, but the boss was right. It was awfully hot. So, he took off his jacket, which helped a bit. Still, his mouth felt dry, so he drank some more cocktail.

"You should also loosen that tie. Don't want you to feel constrained."

Again, Milo did as the boss suggested, feeling more comfortable with every step of the process. The tie had really been a bit too tight. He was just about to unbutton his shirt, when the boss interrupted.

"Wait a moment, man. Finish your drink and follow me."

"Where to?", Milo asked, but the boss was already getting up and walking towards the other end of the balcony, to a door.

"Just relax. You are going to like it."

The boss was right, Milo was thinking too much. And thinking was hard, even harder than his cock was right now. Milo finished his cocktail and got up. The bulge was very prominent in his pants, bigger than Milo ever remembered seeing. For a moment, he looked for a way to hide it, but since nothing came to his foggy mind and the boss was already waiting for him, Milo decided not to care. After all, most of the guys in this club were probably hard, down on the dance floor.

The door led to a small stairway, going down and a narrow corridor after that. Milo had to duck when passing the doorframe, which confused him even more, but he couldn't really tell why. The music was even louder here, and the boss stopped in front of a glittering curtain.

"There, you can take your shirt off out there." He said and gave Milo a thumbs up.

Out there? Confused, Milo stumbled through the curtain into a sea of bright light. For a moment, the music stopped, and Milo was able to hear the voice of the boss coming from all the speakers.

"Give a warm welcome to tonight's star! Here is Macho Dawgson for you, "The Meat" himself. And there's a reason he is called that way..."

After that, a new, driving beat set in and the confusion in Macho's head cleared somewhat. What was he doing again...? Right, he wanted to get out of his shirt.

The uniform shirt was awfully tight, as Macho unbuttoned one button after the other. His body was still moving to the beat, beyond his control, but he didn't mind.

Finally, the shirt came off, and Macho twirled it around his finger for a while before throwing it into the bright light, where cheering sounds reacted to it.

For a split second, Macho looked down on himself. Was that really him? He was way fitter than he used to be, like he visited the gym regularly.

But why did that surprise him, really? He basically lived in the gym, all paid for by the boss. Again, the confusion cleared up some more and Macho started moving to the beat again, thrusting his hips and flaunting his muscles.

The crowd cheered. Of course they did. Macho could hardly keep himself from snorting. He was their fucking god, their idol, the perfect specimen of a man, and they knew it. All those fat, or skinny or otherwise pathetic dudes down there worshipped him, and they better should.

The music got faster and louder, and the dancing crowd was cheering and whistling. Macho felt their hungry eyes on his body, his abs, his pecs, his arms, his crotch. Yeah, there was a reason why they called him "The meat", and that reason was bulging out his uniform pants proudly. But before he got to the main course, he wanted to tease those losers some more.

Macho turned around and let his impressive back muscles work. Of course, he knew that his ass also was a sight to behold, but it was just for teasing. Macho was, of course, a top through and through. After the show, he would be surrounded by willing cocksuckers, who offered every hole in their bodies, begging to be bred, and Macho would make sure three or four of them got their reward tonight.

He ripped open the zipper and wiggled his ass until the pants were hanging low on his hips, and the tight underwear underneath revealed his ass crack. Yeah, Macho knew what he was doing. That's what he lived for: Gym, sex and dancing. He was a god, and he fucking knew it.

Time for the finale. Macho swirled around again and, with a strong motion, ripped off the fake police pants, revealing his stuffed-to-the-brim underwear that shadowed every other man's equipment. Other strippers often wore prosthetics to look bigger, but Macho didn't need that. The bulge in his shorts highlighted his dick and balls in a way that promised only one thing: Size.

The crowd went wild, and the music reached a climax. With a final roar, Macho pulled on his underwear now, ripping it apart and letting his giant meat spring free, enjoying the admiration and jealousy that branded against the stage.

Fuck yeah. Macho loved his job.

If you enjoyed the story and want to support my writing, check out my tip jar! There are also a few more versions of Miles/Macho!

[won4kiss]

𖠵 . ׅ ࣪ ⌇𝑌𝑂𝑈𝑅 𝑆𝑈𝑁𝐺𝐻𝑂𝑂𝑁 !

ᯓ 𝜗𝜚 ℰx bf! 𝓅ark 𝓈unghoon x 𝑓! reader 𝒢enre angst to fluff 𝓢ynopsis in which your boyfriend who moved away without a word comes back ! 𝑤𝑐 𐙚ㅤㅤ 2518 ⸝⸝ not proof read swearing misogyny petnames kissing ୭ৎ — 𝓁ibrar𝓎 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

⊹ ࣪ ˖ PLEASE LIKE & REBLOG ! ໒꒰ྀི ≧ ᗜ ≦ ꒱ྀིა

THE HALLWAYS OF YOUR HIGHSCHOOL WERE ALWAYS OVERCROWDED AND LOUD BUSTLING WITH ENERGY AND THE STUDENTS,

but you and sunghoon managed to carve out your own little world amidst the chaos.

he was the pride of the school, star athlete and heartthrob, always at the center of attention, yet he only had eyes for you.

your relationship was the cause of envy for many – a love story quite literally straight out of a fairy tale.

you remember the first time he asked you out, how could you ever forget? it was during a study session in the library, right before the exams, his face turning a bright red as if he were a tomato!

he stammered out the words. you had laughed, thinking it was a joke, but the determined look in his eyes made your heart skip a beat.

and from that moment, you were inseparable, but little did you know what was yet to come. — more under cut !

your dates were simple, yet memorable.

park sunghoon came from a rich family, and you had grown up very differently.

while he grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth, you grew up quite the opposite, with absent parents and older siblings who quickly left home when the chance came.

but to your surprise, he wasn’t bratty or spoiled, he wasn’t disgusted with your lifestyle or class.

instead, he learned the ways of how you live your life.

to you park sunghoon was the most humble man you had met. he didn’t take you out to five-star michelin restaurants, instead your dates consisted of being sat in his bmw in the mcdonald’s drive through, munching on greasy fries and cheese burgers.

everything was absolutely perfect.

late-night walks in the park, holding hands under the glowing stars, shared popsicle sticks that melted too quickly in the summer heat – each moment was perfect.

sunghoon had a way of making even the most basic activities feel special.

he would leave little notes in your locker, filled with sweet messages that brightened your day. your friends had teased you endlessly, you never heard the end of it, but you didn't mind; you were in love.

during lunch breaks, you would sit together under the big oak tree in the school courtyard, talking about your dreams and plans for the future.

sunghoon wanted to become a professional athlete, while you dreamed of pursuing a career in business.

the thought of being apart after high school absolutely terrified you both, but you promised each other that nothing could come between you.

if you had to choose one, your favourite memory with park sunghoon was the night of the school dance.

sunghoon showed up at your house, looking stunning in his suit, a shy smile on his face as he handed you a bouquet of your favorite flowers.

the two of you danced the night away, lost in each other's arms, the rest of the world fading into the background.

as the evening came to an end, he walked you home, his hand never leaving yours.

under the soft glow of the streetlights, he kissed you, a sweet promise of forever.

as graduation approached soon after, you noticed a big change in sunghoon.

he became distant, his usual cheerfulness replaced by a somber and dull mood.

you tried to talk to him, of course you did, you tried your best to understand what was wrong, but he brushed off your concerns with forced smiles and vague reassurances.

you wanted to believe him, to trust that everything was fine, but the nagging feeling in your gut told you otherwise.

the day of graduation was supposed to be one of celebration, a celebration of years of hard work and shared dreams.

unfortunately for you, it became a day of complete and utter heartbreak.

you stood in your cap and gown, searching the crowd for sunghoon, but he was nowhere to be found.

panic set in as you tried calling him, each unanswered ring amplifying your fear.

you sent texts, pleading for an explanation, pleading for him to show up, but the silence was deafening.

you went to his house, but it was completely empty, a 'for sale' sign planted in the front yard.

the reality hit you like a ton of bricks – sunghoon was gone, without a word, without a goodbye, as if you were nothing to him, as if you were some summer fling.

your friends gathered around you, offering comfort, but their words did little to ease the pain that soared through you.

you spent the entire night staring at your phone, you were supposed to be out with your friends, with sunghoon, partying, celebrating the milestone and the survival of high-school.

instead it was spent hoping, praying for a message that never came.

days turned into weeks, and the reality set in – park sunghoon was gone, leaving you with a shattered heart and countless questions.

FIVE YEARS LATER.

the terrorizing buzzing of your alarm clock pulled you awake from a restless sleep.

you groaned, rolling over to hit the snooze button once again, but the persistent ringing reminded you of the long day ahead.

with a heavy sigh, you dragged yourself out of bed and into the shower, the hot water doing little to wash away the weariness and dread clinging to your bones.

after quickly dressing into your usual work attire – a simple blouse and skirt – you hurried to the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast.

the coffee machine sputtered and groaned, mirroring your own exhaustion. you burned your toast and spilled coffee on your shirt,

“are you fucking kidding me?” cursing under your breath as you hurriedly changed into another blouse.

the commute to work was no better. the bus was packed, leaving you standing and yearning for space, the claustrophobia clawing at you.

when you finally arrived at the office, you were already running late. mr. choi, your boss, was waiting for you at the entrance, his expression a mix of irritation and disdain.

"late again, i see," he sneered, his eyes narrowing.

"this is becoming a habit, and i don't tolerate incompetence in my employees."

“this is why females should stick to cooking..” he muttered under his breath as you looked down, squeezing your eyes shut.

mr. choi was the most misogynistic and sexist man you had ever met, but if you wanted to keep this job, no— you needed this job, if you wanted to reach your dreams, you had to take it.

even if it costed you your very own dignity.

you mumbled an apology, your cheeks burning with embarrassment with the stares of the other staff as you hurried to your desk.

the day dragged on, each minute feeling like an hour. mr. choi's constant demands and demeaning comments wore you down, but you pushed through, finding comfort in the support of your colleagues.

jake, your coworker, noticed your foul mood and tried to cheer you up.

"rough morning, y/nie" he asked, his tone overflowing with aegyo as he handed you a cup of tea.

"that's an understatement, and never do that in front of me again, jake sim!"

“why though! am i not cute enough for you?”

“you’re not cute, period.” you sighed, although that interaction had mixed up your insides in distaste, you were grateful for his kindness and determination to cheer you up.

jake was a light of positivity in the otherwise toxic environment of your workplace.

he often went out of his way to help you, making the long hours much more bearable.

despite the occasional office rumors, your relationship with jake was purely platonic, built on mutual respect, twisted humour and shared struggles.

around midday, to your dismay, mr. choi called you into his office.

"we have a very important client meeting today," he barked.

"i need you to serve tea like a noble lady and make sure everything goes smoothly. do not mess this up, you hear me?"

“yes, sir…”

nodding, you quickly ran to the staff room and prepared the tea, balancing the tray carefully as you approached the office door.

taking a deep breath, you knocked and entered, your eyes fixed on the floor.

"tea is served, sir," you announced, your voice steady despite the nerves of anxiety and nausea.

as you placed the tray on the table, a familiar voice made your heart stop.

"thank you so much," the voice said, and you looked up, your breath catching in your throat.

sitting across from mr. choi the last person you had ever expected.

it was park sunghoon, his presence a jabbing reminder of the unfateful past you had tried so hard to forget.

the shock was too much for you to handle.

your hands trembled, and the tray slipped, sending hot coffee spilling onto your lap. you gasped in pain, the burning liquid soaking through your clothes.

“y/n— are you okay?” sunghoon screeched as he stood up with worry, pacing towards you.

unfortunately for you, mr. choi's face turned red with anger.

"you clumsy fucking idiot!" he shouted.

"do you have any idea what you've done? you're a disgrace!"

“i warned you, bitch—“

sunghoon stood up abruptly, his eyes filled with anger and concern.

"that's enough, mr. kim" he said, his voice firm.

“mr. park, it’s ’mr. choi! c-h-o—“ he nervously uttered before sunghoon had cut him off.

"i absolutely won't be working with someone who treats their employees this way." he turned to you, his expression softening.

"come on, let's get you out of here."

you tried to resist his grip, the emotions of seeing your first love who disappeared on you after many years overwhelming you.

"let go of me, sunghoon! you have no right to even look my way after what you did!"

ignoring your protests, sunghoon led you to a storage room, closing the door behind you.

he stared at you for a good fifteen seconds before he pulled you into a hug, his arms strong and reassuring, even comforting after all these years, and that angered you.

"are you okay?" he asked, his voice filled with genuine worry.

you took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

"i'm fine," you said, though your voice wavered with the weight of your anger.

“y/n, you’re not fine—“

“yes i am, i’ll be leaving now.” you said firmly walking towards the exit as sunghoon softly gripped your arm, his touch begging you to stay.

“please y/n, wait—“

"want me to stay? then i need to know why you left without saying anything. you owe me that much."

sunghoon sighed as he pushed his hair back, his eyes filled with an ocean of regret.

"my family moved overseas suddenly, you know how they are— they refused to let me stay behind and i didn't know how to tell you. i thought it would be easier if i just disappeared, that you would move on without me holding you back. it was a mistake, and i've regretted it every day since."

he looked at you with a glimmer of something you couldn’t quite place, he sighed at your dumbfounded state and walked a step closer to you— his hand reaching out to caress your face before he hesitated, pulling them back to his side.

“i was eighteen and a fucking clueless idiot, y/n. you have every right to hate me, i’m so sorry.”

his words stirred up a mix of emotions – anger, sadness, but also a glimmer of nostalgia.

and it hit you— this was sunghoon standing right in front of you, your sunghoon.

"you should have trusted me, sunghoon" you said, tears welling up in your eyes.

"i needed you, sunghoon. you broke my heart, you shattered it and left me with nothing."

"i know," he whispered, his voice breaking.

"i tried to reach out, to find you, but when i saw that post on your account of you with your husband, jake sim was it? and the kids, i knew it was wrong. you had moved on, you have a family."

you shook your head in confusion, the misunderstanding almost laughable if it weren't so tragic.

"jake is just a friend, and those kids were part of a charity event. you should have reached out and asked anyway.."

sunghoon's shoulders fell with relief and shame.

"i'm so sorry. i was an idiot, and i hurt you. i know this is sudden and i don’t even have any right saying this— but i never stopped loving you, not for a moment. please, give me another chance. let me make it up to you."

you hesitated, the pain of the past still fresh in your mind as if it had all occurred yesterday.

"it's hard, sunghoon. you hurt me deeply, and it's not easy to just forget that."

he took your hand, the sudden feeling bringing you a wave of nostalgia, his eyes pleading.

"i know it's a lot to ask, trust me baby i know—but i promise i'll do everything i can to make it right. i still love you, more than anything. please, let me prove it to you."

seeing the sincerity in his eyes, hearing the old affectionate petname he had for you, you felt your resolve weakening.

"fine… one last chance, sunghoon. but you can't mess up. i can't go through that pain ever again."

a tear rolled down his cheek as he nodded with a grin— as if he had been told he had won the lottery (as if he wasn’t rich already...).

"thank you. i promise you with my whole heart and soul, i won't let you down." he leaned in, shyly pecking your cheek before taking your hand.

the gesture was so familiar, so comforting, that you couldn't help but smile.

just then, the door creaked open, and your best friend, who now worked with you, peeked in.

"everything okay in here, y/n?—" she asked before gasping, her eyes widening when she saw sunghoon.

a knowing smirk spread across her face.

"well, well, look who it is! i always knew you were gonna come back at some point, you were way too down bad to ever get over her.."

you and sunghoon laughed, the sound lightening the heavy atmosphere.

it felt like a new beginning, a chance to rebuild what was lost, to make up for the time could’ve been spent in each other’s embrace.

“well.. we should probably leave, don’t you think?—“ you cut sunghoon off with a quick, soft kiss before running out of the room with pink flushed cheeks and a heavy heart.

“hey— you can’t just do that and expect me to be okay!” he yelled before catching up to you with a soft grin.

of course, with the lovesick look in his eyes which he always carried for you.

holding sunghoon's hand, you walked out of the storage room together, and you knew in that moment that everything would be okay— because it was your sunghoon.

© won4kiss 2024

taglist open ‹𝟹 @mioons @suneng @pnghoon @nshmuras @shawnyle @laylasbunbunny @privareum @briefsaladfun @greentulip @cyjzzl @sol3chu @txtlyn @d-dilemma @deezbin @pockyyasii @iluvnikism

[bokutosbabe]

It's Nice to Have a 'Friend'

( soft launching with the haikyuu boys )

a / n — these are fun to make so i thought i'd do one for my favorite boys. find the blue lock version here !!

content — haikyuu characters x gn! reader, takes place during timeskip, fluff, tried to make it as gn! as possible, but the photos have women, lmk if i missed anything!

synopsis — soft launching with the haikyuu boys <3

✿.｡. “ sun sinks down, no curfew, ” .｡.✿

has a great following for being 'aesthetic' even though they rarely try. most things they post have photos of things they've done in the week like pictures of their food or them working.

their followers are used to aesthetic photo dumps with 10 photos each that have no rhyme or reason to them, so when they get online and see a post from their favorite account with only 3 photos and the caption

" my love " with the song 'my love mine all mine' by mitski attached? there was immediate reactions, some trying to find out who this mystery person is while others seemed to be happy with just these little snippets of the relationship.

theyluvmeee: OMG?? anyone know who this is??

↳ anon2001: it's a soft launch for a reason. that's like- common sense i fear.

they don't think of themselves as a 'content creator', they just like posting their photos. however, they did like how much strangers on the internet would stand up for them and your relationship.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ AKAASHI KEIJI, ennoshita chikara, ARAN OJIRO, daichi sawamura

has a decent amount of followers, mostly just people they'd known in high school and family, but there were a few hundred people who followed for the cute quotes that they would post before one of their chaotic photo dumps.

their usual feed was filled with the first picture being a quote that really made you think and then the craziest pictures. them face down in a puddle after a night out? yep it's there. pictures of them at a scenic dog park? also there

people began following them for the stark contrast that showed in every post they made, but when they posted something with no quote and it was a soft launch? their fans had immediately blown up the comments.

volleyballfreak: A SOFT LAUNCH? with who? omg.

and they had replied to almost every comment asking just who you were with...

' my lover <3 '

oh he was down bad.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ YAMAGUCHI TADASHI, aone takanobu, SUGAWARA KOSHI, osamu miya, NISHINOYA YUU, kita shinsuke, TANAKA RYUNOSUKE

so so so sooo many followers (that came with being a professional volleyball player you supposed) many people who didn't even enjoy volleyball followed them because of the silly stuff they posted.

their fans watched their stories where they would post memes and such, something that many pros didn't do on the daily...because they had a reputation to upkeep. to be fair, all of their followers never knew them to be the brightest, so nothing they posted caused up a stir.

until they posted photos they took with, what was supposed to be, some mystery person with the caption ' a soft launch on MY minecraft server ? '

and it would have been an AMAZING soft launch...if they didn't tag your PERSONAL ACCOUNT on every. single. picture.

you weren't a pro volleyball player, you weren't an actor, you weren't even a manager, nope! you were just some normal person who lives an everyday normal life.

they had the spirit, just not the execution, but that's why their fans (and you) loved them <3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･BOKUTO KOTARO, atsumu miya, HINATA SHOYO, KANJI KOGANEGAWA

didn't get a chance to soft launch you before the paparazzi put out the tabloids of the both of you. the titles always saying something like "STAR VOLLEYBALL PLAYER WITH MYSTERY LOVER??"

the article was posted ten times over on every single social media platform there was, with many people with many different reactions replying to it

MSBYmomma: ur joking. he's literally mine

goofgoob: thank god one person on this team is in a loyal relationship.

the two of you hadn't even gotten the chance to open your own social medias before hundreds of texts invaded both of your phones. only from the people who knew of your relationship and were worried about the both of you.

so what did they do? reposted the photo on their story with two simple emojis...

"👍❤️"

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI, kageyama tobio, OIKAWA TORU, sakusa kiyoomi

✿.｡. “ twenty questions, we tell the truth. ” .｡.✿

i love soft launches and haikyuu <3

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm IV

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: Alexia gets her puppies

His name was Kitchen Sink Putellas, though everyone just called him Sinky.

His name came about by accident just like him.

Alexia would say that it was fate. You could swear she had set you up for it.

It had happened on one of your night walks.

Maya was a bit of a restless baby so you had found that going out for a little walk in the early evening was good to get her to fall asleep without too many tears.

You were pushing her pram gently as Alexia chattered your ear off about getting a puppy. With the house fully completed and all three of you moved in, Alexia was adamant about getting Maya a puppy.

She seemed to forget that you already had a family pet in the form of old Mr Stinky, the extremely senior cat that you had gotten at seventeen from your parents.

At thirteen years old now, he was very slow and slept a lot but he was your little furbaby and you just adored him.

Alexia, less so but she had always been a dog person, which was why you weren't surprised when you saw she had adopted little Nala.

Even through social media, you could see just how much she adored Nala and just how heartbroken she was when Nala unexpectedly passed away.

You could still see the pain lingering in her eyes now when she spoke about getting a puppy for Maya.

Alexia had adored Nala and hadn't thrown a single thing away, still packed up in a box she thought she had hidden in the back of the closet.

You got into a relationship with Alexia knowing she was a dog person and, while she secretly loved Mr Stinky, you knew no animal would come close to being loved like how a dog would be loved.

You had already been convinced weeks ago but you weren't letting Alexia know that. You were curious to see just how far she was willing to go.

You were focused completely on Maya's sleepy face as Alexia spoke. You hadn't even noticed she stopped talking until you turned to look at her.

She was crouched on the ground, her hand offered out to a little puppy on the side of the road.

"Hi, little guy," She cooed," It's okay. I'm here to help."

The little puppy whined, taking a step forward before retreating again when Alexia reached for him.

"It's okay," She said again," Come here. Let's get you some help."

He was a tiny thing. Absolutely tiny and he shook in Alexia's arms when she finally managed to pick him up.

You reached into Maya's baby bag to pull out a spare blanket, helping Alexia to wrap him up nice and warm.

"We need to take him home, amor," Alexia said, suddenly deadly serious," I can't see his Mama anywhere. He is alone."

You glanced around the area, brows furrowed.

Alexia took that as refusal and she looked ready to get on her knees. "Amor, please! You cannot think we should leave him here!"

"Take the puppy and Maya home, Alexia," You said, whipping out your phone," He doesn't look old enough to be weaned. I'll try and find him some food. I'll meet you back at the house."

You watched Alexia gently place the blanket wrapped puppy in Maya's pram with her before sprinting down the street with the speed only a professional athlete could possess.

It was late out but you paid extra for puppy milk and wet food to be delivered in a few hours. It was a flimsy excuse to make but you just couldn't shake the thought that this puppy wasn't completely alone.

It wasn't a rural area that you lived in but there was a park that backed into a little wooded area and surely you would have noticed if the puppy had been dumped in a box.

You flicked on your phone light to wander through the park. You checked everywhere you could before you came across a little bush.

The soft barks were enough to confirm your suspicions and your heart broke at the sight.

She was panting heavily, lying on her side as a throng of puppies drank from her. A heavy stick of wood was planted firmly in the ground and a piece of rope was fixed like a noose around her neck.

She wasn't aggressive as you released her. If anything, she sagged in relief and allowed you to gently stroke her fure.

She was some kind of collie though in the low light, you couldn't quite tell what kind.

You'd had a rough collie as a child. Good old Mr Porkchop who had been put down when you were eleven.

He had always been well looked after though, the pride of your father's life. This collie was nothing like Mr Porkchop though and you dialled Alba instantly.

"Alba? Can you come to the park near our house? I'm going to need your help."

Alexia was desperately working at the kitchen sink when you came in. Her sleeves were pushed up to her shoulders as she desperately scrubbed at the little puppy, trying to get him all warm.

A ring of soap was around his neck.

Clearly, she had listened to your lecture a few weeks ago about how it prevented fleas from climbing onto the heads of animals.

"Amor!" She called out behind her after hearing the front door open," I'm just getting him washed! I put him up on the counter while I changed Maya into her pjs but he fell in! I think he's chosen his name!"

"Alexia?"

"I know it will be a lot of work," She continued," But I promise I will take great care of him. We can set him up next to one of the portable heaters tonight and I've got the day off tomorrow so I'll take him to the vet and-"

"Alexia."

"I know you said Maya is still young and I know you think keeping a puppy this little is dangerous but-"

"Alexia Putellas!"

She turned. "What is-?"

"I found his Mama and siblings," You said plainly, leading the mama in gently as Alba trailed behind you with the other puppies," I've ordered food already and we'll have to take them in to the vet tomorrow."

"Amor..."

"Now." You gently guided the mama to a pile of pillows as Alba reunited her puppies with her. "What's this about his name?"

The puppies and mama were all healthy or, at least on their way to being healthy. The mama had no collar and no microchip. The vet theorised she was part of some puppy mill because she was barely out of puppyhood herself.

You knew by Alexia's face that you would be keeping them all. The Mama, Sinky and his extra three sisters.

You were nervous about it all but Alexia really took the reigns, a far cry from the thirteen-year-old version of her that once cried when you made her leave a cute dog being walked by its owner at the park.

Maya adored the puppies as well and seemed to know to be gentle. Even Mr Stinky seemed to enjoy their presence, taking shifts when the mama was sleeping to make sure that none of the puppies got into mischief.

Mainly, you were impressed about how long it took Alexia to spill about having puppies in the house.

Four weeks since you found them and you finally allowed Alexia to take them into training.

"I'll be out with the others soon," Alexia promised as she wrapped Sinky up in a blanket.

"Ale," You said," He doesn't need the blanket anymore. He's a big boy."

"He's a baby!" Alexia insisted, wrapping him up like a baby in a swaddle.

You rolled your eyes. "Go and bring out your teammates, Ale."

She practically skipped into the locker room with her little bundle of blankets.

Mapi was the first one she noticed and paled dramatically. "No!" She declared," No, you can't be serious, Alexia! You've already got one baby! You can't have gotten another one so soon!"

"Don't be silly, Mapi!" Alexia laughed," We didn't get another baby. Now yet anyway."

"Then what is that?!"

"Sinky!"

Sinky barked happily as he was uncovered by the blankets.

Ingrid rubbed Mapi's back as she hid in her girlfriend's neck.

"Sinky?" Keira echoed," Like Sinclair from Canada?"

"Don't be silly," Alexia said," Because it's short for Kitchen Sink, which is his name."

Mapi might have burst into tears.

"But there's more!" Alexia continued," Come on, come on! I'll show you!"

She sprinted out of the room and her teammates scrambled to keep up with her.

She'd traded in her old Cupra a few weeks ago for a much more family friendly minivan and she pulled open the door.

The first and most obvious thing everyone saw was Maya, happily in her seat waving one of her stuffed toys to the tune of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star which was playing in the car.

The next was the beautiful brown and white Border Collie, Lady. You had laughed a little bit about the name Alexia had bestowed upon her, making a joke about her enjoying naming dogs after Disney characters.

Sweet Lady sat in the seat next to Maya, laying her soft head on your baby's legs.

Her three remaining puppies wrestled in the stair well and all came falling out as soon as the door was open.

"Oh no," You heart Mapi say.

Alexia smiled triumphantly. "Oh yes!"

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Together

Summary: Aaron Hotchner x Fe!Reader -> The team knows something is up between yourself and Hotch, except Rossi seems to be the only one to put the pieces together.

Disclaimer: Descriptions of sick. Fluff. Jack and Haley don't exist in this fic. Happy ending. Not Proof Read.

The whole team knew something was up. They just didn’t know what. 

Usually, you were normal with everyone. Chatty. Smiley. Professional. Maybe a little blunt every now and again. 

But not this time. 

For the last week you had been…cold. Well, not with them, at least. 

But with Hotch? You had been as cold as ice. 

But no-one could pin why. 

Even if it had just been small things, like the feeling in the meeting room in the morning when it just seemed to be the two of you, or the small looks you both gave each other – which had started out as awkward, but then quickly turned to shame and clear annoyance, the latter being much more clear on your end. It was definitely clear now. 

From the beginning of the case, you had been quick to change subjects. Always staying on the case, which was normal. But not your abruptness to do so. And when Hotch tried to pull you aside as the others made their way to the main doors, you brushed him off. 

Hotch was someone you never brushed off. Not until recently. 

And when you all landed in Seattle, Hotch was assigning teams for who was driving. But before he could place you with himself, JJ and Morgan, you pushed past him. 

“I’m going with Rossi.”

And Hotch didn’t say a word. 

Instead, he watched you walk away with your go bag, throwing it into the trunk with Dave. He gave his orders to Prentiss on what would happen and she updated you in the car. 

However, forty five minutes into a ninety minute drive, Emily’s voice started to make you feel dizzy. Then the heat in the car felt like it was blasting. So you rolled down the window. But that didn’t help. 

“Garcia said she’s already sent over some case files- Hey, you okay?”

From the backseat, Emily leaned forward to get a better look at you. 

“I’m fine.”

But five minutes later, you changed your mind. 

“Pull over.”

“What?”

“Pull over, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Okay, okay. Just hold on.”

The car had barely been put into park by the time you threw the door open, tore your seatbelt away and ran out. 

Less than ten feet from the open car door, the last three drinks and meal you ate came straight back up and soaked into the dry grass. 

You heard a second car pull up behind and then heard Morgan and Hotch’s voice. Dave had already reached you, placing a hand on your back before pulling your hair back. 

“Okay, take it easy. Are you okay?”

You could only hum before throwing up once more. He rubbed circles on your back for a moment before you finally finished throwing up and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. 

“Is she okay? Y/n, are you-”

“I’m fine!” You called out, a little harsher than you had intended. 

Holding out a hand, Rossi signalled for Hotch to stop and stay where he was with the others. 

“She’s okay, she just needs a minute. Emily, do we have water in the car?”

“Yep, here.”

Making her way over, Emily poured some water onto a tissue before handing it to you. You wiped down your mouth and your hand before being handed the bottle by Dave. 

“Small sips, okay? Are you sure you’re okay?”

You nodded, your back still to the rest of the team. “I just need a minute.”

“Aaron, we’ll meet you there.”

It took him a minute before he moved back to the car, but Hotch eventually nodded, calling out they’d see them at the precinct. 

“Do you know what it could be?” Emily asked. 

“Probably just some bad sushi.”

Emily nodded before getting back into the car. 

“Are you sure that’s all it is?” Rossi asked once she was out of earshot. 

And for a moment, you paused. 

“Let’s just get going.”

Things only seemed to get worse from there. 

You managed to hide it as best as you could from the rest of the team, but every hour you had spent a good ten minutes in the bathroom throwing your guts up. 

A couple of officers did question where you had been when they couldn’t find you but hadn’t seen you leave the building. One mention of Aunt Flow and they didn’t ask again. 

Your coldness with Hotch didn’t ease, either. It just seemed to become more frigid. And everyone saw it. 

By the third day in Seattle, Prentiss and Morgan had questioned you on it in the break room. 

“Yeah, what do you have against Hotch all of a sudden? What, one week away from us and you’ve suddenly made an agenda against him?”

“Because I love you, I’m going to ask this only once. Please don’t ask about Hotch.”

Morgan and Prentiss looked between each other, slightly worriedly, but both silently agreed to drop it. 

“But you will sort it out?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “I don’t know.”

A few hours later, you were coming back out of the bathroom when Rossi seemed to jump out at you. 

“Jeez. Rossi. Give a girl some warning next time.”

Dave smiled. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Have we caught a break?”

“No, but I need to talk to you.”

“What about?”

“About the fact you’re running to the bathroom every hour to throw up.”

“Like I said, it was probably just some bad food. I’ll be okay.”

Only, as you started walking away, Rossi asked you a question. 

“What happened between you and Hotch?”

“Nothing.” You answered, your back still to him. 

“Really? Because I wouldn’t call it nothing. I’d call it strange.”

“Rossi, I’ve asked Morgan and Prentiss-”

“I know, and I heard. But, to be frank, I think you’re lying and you’re too scared to tell anyone.”

“Tell anyone what?”

But rather than voice it, Rossi just gave you a look. It took you a moment before you cracked a little. 

“Rossi…”

“You don’t have to tell me how or what happened, but I’m asking, just find out the truth. You don’t have to tell anyone. But I think the sooner you do it, the better it will be.”

“We’re in the middle of a case.”

Rossi shrugged, “Morgan and JJ are on their way back. Reid’s got it handled here. We’ll pick up some coffee on the way back as a cover. Let’s just go now.”

You seemed to hesitate, and Rossi could see it. 

“Please, for my sanity's sake?”

“Okay.”

Twenty minutes later, you found a pharmacy and picked up a box. 

“Can you wait outside the door for me?”

“Of course.”

And he did. 

Once you paid for the box, the cashier directed you to a bathroom in the back. Except, long after the two minutes were up, you still hadn’t come out. So, Rossi knocked on the door. 

You swung it open and he jumped back a little. 

“I can’t look at it.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to at some point.”

“I’ve wiped it down and it’s got a cap but…can you look? I’m too scared.”

Rossi could see the fear in your eyes. Oh, how two little lines could instil so much fear into people who dealt with crime every day. 

Handing the package to Rossi, he turned it around and pulled it out of the packet. 

“I believe congratulations are in order.”

Turning it around so you could see, you took it back into your grasp as you pushed one hand through your hair. 

“Oh, my god.”

“I think you and Hotch need to have a conversation.”

“Please don’t tell anyone.”

Rossi smiled, holding your hand which he could feel shaking. “You have my word.”

Somehow, back in the precinct, you managed to keep your cool. You’d brought back coffee for the team and, despite the fact you caught Hotch watching you from his seat, noticing your shaking hand, you pulled it back and found a spare pen from JJ’s notepad and spun it over and over in your fingers. 

Thankfully, due to the “food poisoning”, you had been kept out of the field when it came to finding the unsub. However, this just gave you a very large sense of dread. You watched them all run out of the door, Rossi placing a hand on your arm talking directly to you. 

“I’ll look out for him.” He told you before the others could hear him. 

“Thank you.”

Possibly carrying Hotch’s child made watching him and the team run out of the door, without you, made that sense of dread practically triple. Especially considering no-one other than Rossi knew the truth, or at least a part of it, about yourself and Aaron. 

Thankfully, no-one got hurt and the unsub was apprehended in time before he could hurt anyone else. They all came back with looks of relief and tiredness when you saw them, but there was a barely visible look of confusion and perhaps, hopefulness, on Hotch’s face when your scowl at him didn’t seem so cold. 

On the plane ride back, you were quiet. Everyone was, but there was just an air about you that told those paying attention to you that you were in your own world. 

Of course, Rossi knew why. 

But it was tearing at Hotch why he didn’t. 

Pulling back into the office, Penelope greeted you all by the elevator, hugging you all. And handing you some dry crackers and a bottle of water. 

“Thanks, Garcia.”

As everyone said their goodnights, you watched as Hotch walked directly through the bullpen and towards his office. 

“I think there are a couple of things you and he need to talk about.”

You nodded, with a light smile. “You’re right.”

Rossi kissed you cheek before saying goodnight and saluting you before the elevator doors closed. You did a small one back before turning your gaze back to the dim lights coming from Hotch’s office. 

However, first, you ran to the bathroom. 

Sitting at his desk, Hotch was halfway finished with the last of his reports when a knock came to his door. 

Looking up from his desk, there was a slight look on his face that told you he wasn’t expecting you. And you couldn’t be surprised. You’d barely been able to look him in the eye for the last month and a half, and you’d been nothing but cold and if a little harsh with him for the last couple of weeks. 

“Is everything okay?”

“Can we talk?”

Hotch nodded. “Come on in.”

You nodded back, entering, but closing the door behind you. Which made Hotch stand. 

“Is everything-”

“I’m pregnant.”

A silence settled over the room that you were expecting, but still shocked you. And every possible emotion, some you couldn’t even name, passed over his face before he was forced to sit down. 

“Oh.”

“Can I sit?”

He nodded, quickly signalling for you to do so. And so you did. 

“What did…How- When did you find out?”

“Sometime in the last twenty four hours.” You answered which confused Hotch, which you could understand. It was a vague explanation. “It’s all been kind of a blur.”

He nodded, understanding what you meant. 

“Does anyone…know?”

You nodded. “Rossi.”

“Dave knows?”

“He seemed to know before I did…kinda.”

“What does that mean?”

“I guess I had a feeling when I got carsick, but denial carried me through.”

“Does anyone else know?”

You shook your head. “No. Oh, and, um, I-I took another test to be sure. H-here.”

With a lot of nerves and a lot of awkward courage, you passed the second test across the desk to Hotch who took it in his hands and looked at it. 

Two bright pink lines. 

Positive test. 

“Just so I’m…clear. You are telling me because I’m…”

“The father?” you questioned. “Yes. There wasn’t anyone before or after you for it to be someone else.”

Hotch nodded. “Okay.”

You both sat in silence for a while, taking in what had just happened. 

“I, well, I haven’t been to see a doctor yet so I can’t know for certain but these tests are usually pretty accurate.”

Hotch could only nod. 

“You’re free to make any decision you wish,” Hotch assured you. “I’ll support you either way.”

You nodded in a small thank you. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’m going to do. With our line of work, it gives you the handbook over why you shouldn’t have children. But, if I do decide to do this…I’m prepared to do this on my own. If I am going to do it, I’d prefer to have you in their life.” 

Your hand absentmindedly touched your stomach and you looked down to it for a moment. 

“But, I’m prepared to do it on my own.”

Hotch took in everything you said and nodded. “Like I said, I’ll support any decision you make but if you do decide to have our child…” 

Those two words settled over the both of you. 

Our Child. 

Our Child. 

Our Child.

“One thing you don’t have to worry about is doing it alone. I want to be a part of their life. And whatever support you need, I’ll try and help with.”

You nodded before looking back down to your stomach. 

Once again, a silence settled over the both of you and it was like he could hear your brain going into overload with information and feelings. But just as he was about to call your name, you looked up. 

Tears were being held tight behind your eyes, but a few words and they were ready to fall free. 

“I’m…I’m scared, Aaron.”

It didn’t take him a second thought before he stood up and met you where you were sitting. As he got around his desk, you stood and he embraced you tightly. 

He swallowed thickly, nodding and placing a quick kiss to your hair. “It’ll be okay.”

A week later, the team had taken notice of the change between yourself and Hotch. It was no longer cold, but it wasn’t what it was. It was something…uneasy. You had both clearly had a tough talk and were on rocky shores, but you were both finding a way to make it work. 

It was also a week later that you had made your decision. 

You were going to have a baby. 

A lot of different scenarios passed through your mind when you thought about what you were going to do. It would be hard, of course. It would be difficult to work the cases you do and not feel a little more emotionally involved. But you also couldn’t help but think that maybe this was a blessing in disguise. 

A part of you had wanted children for a long time, but the thought of actually having them was slipping further and further away the more you worked. 

And, despite you feeling selfish, you wanted a baby. You wanted to see a child, your child,  grow up and have a life of their own. You wanted to make the memories you had as a kid, but with them. 

You knew it would be difficult to do so when you joined the Academy, but part of you always wanted a home filled with the sound of laughter and joy. 

And maybe this was your only chance. 

And in all honesty, Aaron had similar feelings. 

It would be hard, sure. But he also wanted this in his life. He wanted a child. He wanted you in his life, however that would be. 

Of course, neither of you had seen this coming when you had run into each other at the Inn you had found. A halfway stop to your actual destination. Only, rather than continuing on your separate journeys for your week’s vacation time, you both found yourselves unable to leave the small town and the safe walls of the local Inn. 

It was that part of the story the team would forever speculate on once they found out you were pregnant and it was, in fact, Hotch’s baby. 

That was a piece of information they clued together themselves when Hotch called them in for an early meeting, but had confirmation on just a few moments later.

“So, what’s happening here?”

“Are you together?”

“We’re…still figuring that out.” Hotch answered, looking at you.

Neither of you had exactly had the conversation over what you were. Were you a couple? Were you friends? Were you co-workers? Were you just co-workers having a baby together?

HR weren’t exactly happy about the get-together but so long as the relationship wasn’t going to break any codes of conduct within the field, you were both still free to keep working. And more importantly, working together. 

However, over the next nine months, certain things seemed to blur. 

Aaron came with you to every doctor’s appointment, never missing one. When you had both first heard your baby’s heartbeat, you had clutched onto his hand and not let go. And when the sound got clearer, he pulled you a little closer, rubbing your arm and kissing your hand. 

It was a little odd, feeling the baby kick for the first time whilst being stood outside of a crime scene. 

Morgan had been with you at the time, quickly calling for Hotch when your posture and face changed from quizzical to concerned. Only, by the time Aaron had reached you both, you laughed and told them what was happening. 

Morgan then called JJ over as you guided Aaron’s hand to your stomach. And you both shared an intimate moment, just looking at one another, feeling your unborn baby kick at your stomach for the first time. 

JJ was able to confirm what was going on and both herself and Morgan congratulated you before you all remembered where you were and got back to work.

The cold glares you had given Hotch in the weeks leading up to you finding out had disappeared completely after the hug you shared in his office when you told him. And by the time you were entering your second trimester, they had turned into something similar to what they were before everything had changed. 

You had both become friends. 

He had also relaxed a little more around you, which allowed him space to take in what was actually happening. So, when your cravings started kicking in, he would hand you snacks throughout the days. You wouldn’t even know what you wanted at the time and he just…seemed to know. 

And at some point between him attending doctors appointments, helping you with your pregnancy cravings and reading to your belly, you had both begun to live together. 

It made sense, at least for the first couple of weeks after the birth and partly during the pregnancy. If you went into labour, it would be safer if someone was with you. And, it meant he was there when, in the middle of the night, you woke up with braxton hicks and panicked a little before getting checked out at the hospital, just in case. 

Also, small touches began. 

From you holding his hand against your stomach when your baby kicked, to his fingers tracing yours whilst they held that position. Then, in break rooms. They were quick, but light kisses would be pressed to your head or cheek whenever he handed you something. He was always close to you, barely leaving your side when in the field. His hand, always at the small of your back when leading you somewhere. And in the early hours of the morning, his arms would be across you as you both lay in bed, holding you close against his chest. 

Until, finally, one night whilst lay in bed, you asked a question. 

Both facing each other, despite your eyes being closed, Aaron traced repeated patterns from pushing your hair back to trailing his fingers down your arm to find your hand, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. 

Both of you should be fast asleep, yet you weren’t. 

“Aaron?”

“Hmm?”

“What are we doing?”

“Sleeping.”

You laughed a little. “No we’re not.”

“I’m sleep talking.”

“Aaron, I’m being serious.”

With a small laugh, Aaron sighed. “Okay, what is it?”

He finally opened his eyes and so did you.

“What are we doing? About us, I mean. We’re having a baby together, but we’re not together together. We work together, but we also live together. What happens after the first couple of months? Do we…what do we do?”

“I suppose we just have to take each day as it comes and see what happens.”

“I can live with that.”

“Or…”

“Oh, no.” 

Aaron laughed a little and shook his head, bringing his hand back to your face and brushing the hair from it. 

“Or,” he repeated, “we treat this for what it really is.”

“I don’t…” you shook your head. 

“I know I don’t regret what happened that week away. Even more so now, but before…before we both found out. I still didn’t regret it. I don’t. We say we live together out of convenience, but I know, at least for me, it’s something more. Now, if for you it’s still out of convenience and bonding for our child, then we can have this conversation when the time comes. But, you should know my feelings for you run deeper than just you being my co-worker and the mother of our child. Do you…could you see yourself…feeling the same?”

The silence that came over both of you for a moment made Aaron worry. Maybe he had gotten it wrong in his head. Maybe you didn’t feel the same. Maybe you were just caught up in the emotions of carrying his child and, since you were in it together, some form of feelings, similar to that of his, were getting blurry. 

But then you blinked. 

And a light smile graced across your face. 

“I do.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper. But still, your words echoed louder and louder around his head. 

“You…you do?”

You nodded. “I do.”

Aaron took a moment, before leaning in and pressing a kiss to your lips. It was like your first, all over again. Except, this time, rather than a little fear being behind it, considering at the time you were both still co-workers just on vacation, there was nothing but…

Relief. 

More specifically, relief for love. 

For months you’d both been avoiding the biggest barrier between both of you. Too scared and too fearful that the answer to each question would be some variant of “No.” 

And now…

Finally the answer was yes. 

Yes to love. 

Together.

Yes to a life.

Together. 

Yes to a family. 

Together.