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cherrycranes · 21 hours ago

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Observed (Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader) [+18]

Pairing: Judge Jonathan Crane x Fem! reader Summary: You just moved to this fancy building and your serious neighbor invites you for a cup of tea... At first... Word count: 4,749 Contents: (Minors DNI) Drink spiking (aphrodisiac), light dom/sub, degrading, spanking, p in v, unprotected sex, ass play, orgasm denial, creampie. Author's notes: A new collab with bestie @fuckiingloser! Enjoy cause we've been thirsting for Crane lately. At the end you'll find a playlist to set the mood for this specific fic made by yours truly and a Pinterest board made by @fuckiingloser!

Things had finally improved with you this past year. Your poorly paid job as a waitress was finally replaced with something that gave you much more money than what you were used to. Sure, being a stripper wasn’t exactly a career your family would be proud of, but it showered you, quite literally, in cash. The most exclusive strip club in Gotham had been so generous to you, you easily moved out of the east of town into a safer, wealthier area on the other side of the city. A nice apartment in a high rise condo much better than anything you had before.

It was definitely an adjustment, to say the least. In its pristine, minimalistic halls you stuck out like a colorful, almost nouveau riche thumb. No wonder you hadn't talked with your new, snobby neighbors yet. The most you got were dirty looks in the elevator or the hallway. Everybody could see right through you.

Even then, you tried to not let that get to you. If you could pay the rent, you belonged there, plain and simple. So you settled in.

It was a Friday night. Surprisingly, you didn’t have to work, instead you filled your time unpacking some things and procrastinating on the rest in favor of some trashy TV. Three knocks on your door snapped you out of it. A few packages you were expecting laid on your doorstep to your surprise. You had imagined those would be delivered to the lobby.

You brought them in. The first three matched in name, address and expected contents, the last one, however, was addressed to somebody else. A neighbor who seemingly lived right across the hallway from you but you had never met before.

Dr. Jonathan Crane.

Of course, you had to return it. You slipped into a pair of shoes and walked the small distance between your front door to the apartment number read on the package. You gave it a few knocks and right after, the door opened.

Now, you had definitely seen him before in the hallways, and even shared a silent elevator ride with him once, but it never crossed your mind that that would be Dr. Crane. He was attractive. Beautiful, in fact. And up close he was just a visual delight. The most mesmerizing pair of pale blue eyes, plump pink lips and soft chestnut brown hair faced you from just a few inches away. Had it not been for his serious, nerve-altering flat facial expression, you would have continued in the trance his beauty put you under.

“Hi… I’m your neighbor down the hall and I think I got your package by accident and brought it inside my place… Just wanted to return it to you...” Your voice gained enough strength the more you went on, but the slight unease didn’t disappear until his handsome features softened a bit.

Doctor Crane opened the door a little more, just enough to receive your package, his calloused fingertips lightly grazed your hand and sent an unintelligible feeling through you.

“Ah, well thank you for returning it…” His voice was just as attractive as him. Warm, clear, elegant. No trace of any particular accent that could give away his origin and open him up for a more meaningful small talk.

“Of course, what kind of neighbor would I be if I didn't?” You smiled kindly, a spark of the desire to stop being rejected by your neighbors obvious to his eyes and ears. He smirked, the kind of smirk a scholar would give to an open beginners book of a subject he mastered.

“Well, it was nice to mee-” You swallowed the rest of your words when Doctor Crane cut you off.

“I was actually just about to have a drink. Would you like to come in and join me as a thank you for returning my package?” His voice was monotone, ascetic. No hint of the ulterior lust you were used to from men. It honestly seemed like a great effort on his part, he didn’t appear like the kind of guy who enjoyed company.

Before your lips could mouth an automatic rejection, a rush of thoughts crashed over you. He was a stranger but he was also your next door neighbor. You were bound to see him frequently, in the hallways or the elevator. And if he was the only one in this building who didn’t look at you like you were trash, it wouldn't hurt to accept his offer. Could it?

“Sure, I'd like that.” You replied softly and he let you in. Your eyes widened at the sight of his apartment that was easily triple the size of yours and had multiple floors. It was difficult to believe this was in the same building, less right across from you. You had your little newfound money but this guy was definitely loaded.

He led you into what looked like his study, a dark, minimalistic place filled with books neatly arranged in their bookshelves, a handful of framed diplomas and expensive furniture that appeared brand new from how little they must have been used. You took a seat on the leather chaise lounge armchair in the middle of the room, taking in the environment.

“Anything in particular you would like to drink?” Doctor Crane asked cooly. Fitting. He walked across to the well stocked small bar he had there, actually ready for anything you desired to drink.

“I actually don’t drink alcohol…” You started, and he was a little shocked for a split second before returning to his serious but oddly kind expression.

“Interesting… How about some tea then?” He suggested, and that suited you just fine. He asked you how you liked your tea then disappeared out of the room and into his kitchen, leaving you alone.

The dark foggy Gotham City skyline stared right at you from the big window, droplets of water ran desperately down the glass thanks to the hard rain outside, usual for this time of the year. As you kept clouding your mind with remarks about the weather, the vastness of the city and your neighbor’s way of living, he returned with your tea, sitting in the chair right across from you and handing you your cup.

“Sorry I'm not really dressed as fancy as you…” You apologized with a faint laugh, your simple tight v-neck long sleeve and your pair of black leggings stood out in comparison to his suited form.

Doctor Crane smirked very lightly, pale blue eyes analyzing your form as if he had just noticed it was there. Your neck, cleavage, visible nipples, thighs and legs laid under the microscope of his mind, and it was much more strange than the filthy looks of desire men would give you. Even in the strip club, with you barely clothed, you felt less exposed. You took a sip from your cup, hoping that the rich flavor would wash away the feelings that look from him provoked in you.

“I've observed you have a rather strange schedule… always coming and going late in the night…” His voice was so casual, so deadpan, as if he had only commented about the rain outside. You nearly choked with your tea. Observed?

“Well, my job just has different hours-“ You swallowed hard, playing the “pretend you’re not a stripper” game you sometimes played.

“And what is your profession?” Crane insisted not even a second later, his crystal blue eyes bearing into yours and fanning the spark. You felt speechless, helpless. Why did he care so much? And why did you like it so much?

You took another sip of your tea, wondering just how appropriate it would be to tell the truth and weighing how hard it would be to upkeep a lie. Ultimately, you decided to be honest.

“I'm actually a dancer…” You said bluntly, preparing for the common shock the people you did tell always had upon their faces, and getting surprised when he showed none. There was an awkward pause in the silent and dark apartment only interrupted by the distant thunder outside. You continued to drink, your anxiety finishing with the rest of your tea and placing the empty cup on the coffee table, accidentally depriving you of something to fidget with. Your hands toyed nervously with each other in the dead silence for an eternity before he spoke again.

“Does being a whore fulfill you?”

Doctor Crane’s tone was so simple, so… Professionally mind blowing. You took a second to process it all. Nobody, absolutely nobody else would have ever gotten away with saying something like that to you. At least not without you telling them to fuck off. But for some reason that had everything to do with his voice, his eyes and his face, instead of anger, you felt your pussy fluttering beneath your leggings.

“I'm sorry… what?” You asked in an odd mix of shock, rightful offence and growing desire, unable to tell which feeling dominated. Crane, still so deadpan, leaned over, setting his cup next to yours on the table.

“I asked if being a whore fulfills you… Dancing for old men and taking their money? Does that make you happy?” Once more, his voice was flat, medically sterile. For a moment, you weren’t a woman. You were one of the many cases he studied.

You squeezed your thighs together, maybe to remind yourself of your own humanity, and your own growing arousal. This mad man had really invited you to his house, let you sit on his fancy chaise and invited you a cup of tea just to degrade you on your face. And, instead of insulting him and defending yourself like you should have, you got wet.

“It's just my job…” That’s all you managed to utter, your energies too busy keeping the rest of your body in check. Doctor Crane nodded, an obvious habit from his consultations.

“Do you have a relationship with your father?” He asked simply, his voice deep, not even a hint of mockery, just brutal, raw, unasked-for seriousness, and perhaps, judgement.

“That's a very rude thing to ask…” You whispered defensively.

“It’s really not if you do have one, which I'm assuming by your answer you don’t… Do you think that’s why you enjoy dressing in provocative clothing and dancing for men?” Crane asked, reaching over to touch your knee. You hated to admit, but his touch was electric. Just as dangerous as touching a wire with bare hands. Your pussy fluttered and clenched, your breath hitched and all the words you could have used to tell him off disappeared in your head.

There was another awkward silence in which his eyes didn’t stop looking into yours, drilling their way into your psyche. Crane smirked, as if he had actually gained physical access to it, and leaned in closer to you.

“I bet you’re already fucking soaking... I didn't even need to give you that aphrodisiac did I?”

Aphrodisiac.

Your head spun terribly and your heart pounded at the knowledge that he was absolutely right. Confused, nervous and horny you were. Dripping wet too. You looked down at your empty cup of tea in a futile attempt to find a trace of anything. Doctor Crane’s fiery hand slid up onto your thigh and interrupted your flimsy examination.

“What?” That was all you could muster.

“I think, in my professional psychiatrist's opinion, you’re in need of some guidance and attention from a smarter, older man…” His smooth, attractive voice pooled into a warm wet patch on your thong. Your mouth hung open slightly, watching him blink as the pieces fell together in your mind. The packages delivered straight to your apartment door, the last one being his, the insistence of getting you something to drink, the passing comment about observing you… He had set everything up to therapize you. To crack your mind open. And when he had you at your most vulnerable, when all of his uncomfortable questions and the tea had you under his thumb, to inevitably fuck you…

Testing you, Crane pulled his hand away from you, reveling in the little whine you made at the loss. He stood up and stepped right in front of you, his crotch on your face and his finger tilting your head up to meet his intense, serious gaze. Not knowing how much was the effect of the aphrodisiac and how much was your own desire, you felt butterflies for his sexy imposing presence, for the tiny smug smile he gave you and for the way he held his thumb to you before uttering the word: “Suck…” as a soft but serious command.

Craving the approval, you mindlessly wrapped your lips around his thumb, letting the pad of his finger rest on your tongue before starting to suck gently.

“Good girl…” he murmured, and it felt like a hit of a drug. The most addictive, altering feeling of your life.

“You know, I’m rather picky when it comes to my women. I think with my help you could be the perfect little wife. You’re much too pretty for that club… And I think you know that…” The more he spoke, the more you rolled your tongue over his thumb. You hummed in agreement, visions of you bathed in his attentions and riches making your cunt clench.

Crane pulled his thumb out of you with a sticky pop sound, running the tip over your bottom lip. He gave you a sly smile, his serious demeanor slipping a bit and revealing just how turned on he was.

“Get naked for me doll…” He rasped and you nearly moaned in anticipation. Who were you to deny him or disobey him?

With your head still reeling and the aphrodisiac coursing through your system, you pulled your shirt over your head, your tits bouncing free for his eyes to devour. He loomed over you, his cock ached in his dress pants at such perfection.

Intently, he visually traced every contour of your naked torso as you laid back on the therapist chair and slipped your leggings off, losing them somewhere on the pristine wooden floor. Crane enjoyed the show, sitting on the edge of the lounge as your most devoted audience. Blue eyes raked over the pink lace of your damp thong and he felt the urge to do something with his hands. His calloused touch slid up your legs, mapping out his new, soft, warm possession.

Your heart beat out of your chest and through the delicate folds of your pussy, begging and pleading for contact.

“I said naked…” Crane repeated a little sternly, deciding to not trust you to comprehend a basic order in your state and doing it himself. He took hold of the pink lace covering your core and ripped it, pulling the now shredded fabric off your body.

You gasped softly, unable to hold back a moan. Your body was buzzing in anticipation and reeling under the influence. You needed him. Badly.

“Much better…” He purred in satisfaction, gazing into your eyes with a burning desire. Calloused hands pushed your legs apart and examined just what he had gotten.

“God you’re just dripping…” It was a whispered, slightly needy observation that betrayed the seriousness of his actions. You had a wet, delicious, hot cunt that invited him to touch, to part your pretty folds to get a good look at your aching hole.

“Please…” You whispered, if not begged, speaking for the first time in ages. Crane smirked triumphantly, he had you at his perfect mercy and he couldn’t feel prouder. He responded to your plea by leaning over you, chest to chest, and capturing your lips in a slow, passionate kiss.

Your arms wrapped around him for dear life, one of your hands plunged into his soft brown hair and took in the feeling of him, of his warm tongue slipping in slowly against yours in a sensual dance, of his hand that came up to cup your breast and roll your nipple. After a minute, he pulled back, leaving you breathless and looking up at him like a begging puppy. It was a perfect sight. Crane cracked a smile, soothing you with a caress to your cheek.

“God you’re beautiful…”

He whispered, almost fooling you into believing he had slipped out of the cruel dominant demeanor he had shown up to this point. The aphrodisiac, the praise and your own attraction to him had you reeling and buzzing for a second, and that was enough to drive you wild.

“Flip over…” Crane commanded. “On your knees, bent over and ass out for me…”

Immediately, you did as he said, eager to please. It was not the most comfortable of positions, with your head turned to the side, your cheek against the cold leather backrest and your hands clutching the frame of the chair, but in all honesty, you didn’t care. All you wanted was to be fucked, and soon.

Crane groaned a bit, moving to adjust himself behind your tempting flesh. Both needy holes bare and on display for him to use however he wanted. One of his knees rested on the lounger behind you and one foot got planted on the floor for stability.

Without warning, you felt his hand come down on your ass. Hard. You yelped, then moaned, the pain mixing with pleasure deliciously and making you desperate for more. It was a whole miracle your pussy wasn’t dripping down your thighs and onto the fine leather at this point.

Another hard smack. This time on the other cheek to make it sting equally. You stifled out a whimper with a bite to your lip, catching the sound of his belt coming undone then followed by the zipper of his pants. You nearly shook in anticipation the longer he took to fill you up, and you started to believe he was deliberately toying with you. His large hands then grabbed a greedy handful of each asscheek, spreading them apart to get a good look at both holes.

“Please, Sir…” You finally got the courage to whisper, driven by your need. You wouldn’t be able to take any more foreplay, it felt like it could kill you.

He smiled to himself at the little “sir” that left your pleading lips, and while he didn’t respond with words, you felt the tip of his cock slowly rubbing back and forth against your sticky wet folds just to tease you. Taunt you. He covered his tip in your perfect slick and made you moan, but he held back the pulsating need to slam into you.

“You want me?” He asked huskily and simply so you could scream, obviously aware that you needed him. But he wanted you to say it.

“God yes…” You whined back to him, already out of breath. You tried to push back against him in hopes to get the tip to slip in, completely desperate for his cock.

Then, you felt his palm coming down on your ass for a third time, the slapping sound echoing through the study and its high vaulted ceilings just to remind you of how much of a slut you were for this man. Desire and whatever it was that composed the aphrodisiac coursed through your veins .

“I’m going fuck the whore out of you…” He sneered and without another word, his thick cock slammed into you in one go. Your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, nearly blinding you. You let out the loudest, whiniest moan for him yet, unable to even process just how good his perfectly curved long cock hit parts of you you didn’t know needed to be hit…

His hand gripped your hip possessively, giving you no time to adjust to him as he started to piston his hips into you. As if you needed it, you were dripping wet.

“Oh fuck- holy fuck-...” You whimpered and babbled absolute nonsense. Crane was fucking you stupid and drilling the obscene sounds of skin slapping and your pussy squelching into your mind. So filthy and erotic, you could even hear him grunting and groaning in a loss of composure. He couldn’t help it, not when he was balls deep inside this greedy slutty cunt after so much foreplay.

“This tight pussy’s getting fucked so good she’s talking to me… You hear yourself?” He asked, half satisfied, half degrading. It was like it fucking disgusted him yet it ignited him. Words failed you, all you did was moan over and over with his thrusts as a response.

“I think she knows exactly who she belongs to…” He cooed condescendingly to you, his hand coming down and spanking your ass again, leaving a sting that transformed into pleasure in its wake, adding to your already building orgasm.

“You…you… I belong to you!” You cried out stupidly, fucked so deeply, so thoroughly. His cock hit that special spongy spot inside you again and again, some drool threatened to spill down the corner of your lips from how mindlessly he was plowing you. He had really managed to erase every thought in your head, every single one except him.

“This pretty little asshole keeps winking at me… She’s begging for my attention…” He grunted, his balls slapping against your neglected clit as he drilled into you. You babbled incoherently at his words, already so fucked out and you had’t even come yet.

You heard him gather saliva in his mouth, then, a hot wad of spit hit your asshole, you whined in response. Crane’s hand reached down until his thumb was spreading his spit around your puckered hole and pushing it into your ass.

“Ffffuuuck.” You moaned loudly at the new sensation. The burning tension of your building orgasm threatened to boil over any time now. “P-please… I'm gonna come…” You begged so sweetly, desperate for a release the harder he pounded.

Crane’s hips then came to a stop, completely neglecting your orgasm. You felt like you could cry.

“If you want it that badly, you can fuck yourself on my cock… Work for it doll…” He said sternly, pulling his thumb out of your ass and making you whine.

Immediately, you started to bounce yourself on his cock, throwing your ass back at him like a pathetic whore. It was a feast to icy blue eyes, following closely how his cock slipped in and out of your tight, wet, hot pussy. The sensation became so good he couldn't hold back a groan of pleasure that sent his head back.

Air barely filled you agitated lungs the more you bounced yourself, chasing and earning your orgasm with desperation. You could tell he was close too. You felt it from how his thighs flexed and by the grunts he made. He would never admit such a filthy weakness like that out loud however.

A few more hard blows landed on your ass as you bounced his cock on him, making you clench hard every single time and moan like the whore he was trying to fuck out of you. Crane was even moaning himself, music to your ears and cunt.

Finally he couldn’t take it anymore, equally desperate.

“Fuck me- flip over… I have to see that pretty face when I come deep inside you…”

Thank fuck. A smirk grazed your lips at the audible desperation in his voice. You turned over onto your back, meeting his handsome face again, his hair was now a little disheveled and his forehead glistened with a little sheen of sweat. His long, painfully hard cock was coated in your arousal, and you groaned at the sight, finally seeing it after only having it inside. Crane scooted closer, pushing back into you with ease and wasting absolutely no time.

You bit your lip gently, looking up into his intense crystal blue eyes when you moaned in unison. He gripped the soft flesh of your thighs, spread them and pushed them up into your chest until he had you at a perfect angle, hitting the deepest parts of you. Your mouth fell open and your eyes closed just as he started to pump his hips into you, picking up speed until you couldn’t hold back loud whiny moans.

He reveled in the way your beautiful face contorted in pleasure, a smug smirk forming between heavy breaths.

“You fucking like that?” He groaned to you, making you nod frantically to the rhythm of your squelching pussy.

“This pussy is just begging me to come so deep…” His voice gave away just how little he would last. Your mind reeled at his words, at his serious and harsh personality slipping away to reveal how much he loved the feeling of you.

The pressure of your orgasm tightened in your lower abdomen as he fucked you unforgivingly hard and deep. You wouldn’t last much either.

“Please… I'm-I’m gonna come...” You whimpered, so pathetically fucked out, unable to hold it back anymore. His hips fucked you on autopilot and he smirked.

“Come for me doll…” He cooed to you sensually and that was all it took. Your orgasm ripped through you like nothing you’ve ever felt before. Fireworks went off in your brain and your body trembled in the deepest, most needed pleasure. Your wet pussy tightened around him with greed, your back arched off the chair and your eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh my God!” You cried out to him, your legs shaking as he fucked you through it.

Crane looked down at you in amazement, his jaw hanging open and allowing heavy breaths to escape him. It was truly the best pleasure of your entire life, the junction of his devilish beauty, your need and the last rush of the aphrodisiac making you wild. He felt you milking his willpower out of him, he had no way to resist, to keep up the front.

“Jesus-“ That was all he could muster to say. A deep loud groan resonated in the study as he gave into the intense pleasure. Akin to you, something he had never felt before.

Dizzy and mind blown, he leaned over you, his sweaty forehead against yours as his hips finally came to a stop. His cock pulsed and filled you deeply with his load, drowning your cunt in him.

You both panted heavily, hot breath mingling and hitting each other’s faces until recovery from the hardest orgasm of your lives finally came. A curious, tentative hand came up to touch his cheek with newfound softness. You smiled a little, his eyes softened in a rare moment of tenderness until his lips found yours. The soft kiss soon turned into a slow, sensual makeout. His tongue slided against you sending a flood of tingles all over you.

Crane pulled back after a minute or two of melting onto you, moving back into his position and keeling between your legs. You watched in complete devotion how his half flaccid cock left your sated heat, leaving you so empty without him inside.

“Mmm, look at that…” He marveled, inspecting your puffy abused folds as his cum dribbled slowly out of you, his middle finger caught it and pushed back inside you. You moaned at the feeling, watching intently.

“I think with the proper training and sessions like these, you’ll be the most lovely little wife…” He practically cooed to you, and it became your life mission. Your heart swelled with the idea, no matter how demeaning it was, you were under his spell even though the aphrodisiac had completely worn off by now.

The man you wanted to please the most flashed you that perfect smile, pulling his finger out of you just to offer it to your lips. You happily obliged, sucking it clean with your gliding tongue and humming at the combined taste of you.

“You’ll stay here tonight…” He commanded quietly, and you agreed right away, your obedience and devotion coddling to his already inflated ego. He had looked far and wide for the perfect partner… Pet…. Wife… Who would have thought she’d move in next door?

“Your next session will be in the morning, you’ll show me how good you can suck a cock…” Crane’s hand stroked your cheek softly yet possessively, and despite how sexualizing and objectifying it was, all you could ever feel was excitement for what was to come in the morning. And every morning after that.

You could tell that it was just the beginning for you both…

-Pinterest board made by the lovely @fuckiingloser

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#cillian murphy #cillian murphy fic #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy characters #fanfic #jonathan crane #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane x female reader

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mscherub · 2 days ago

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Right, so…you’re transported to a new world, and me being the science geek I am, I can’t help but think of all the bacteria you wouldn’t be accustomed to in Twisted Wonderland…so imagine how bad flu season would be, or just the spreading of sicknesses around the school in general

You better have a good immune system cause oml would it be put into overdrive. Anyways…here’s my twist on what the Diasomnia boys would do in order to be helpful in your recovery ❤️‍🩹

Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia

Warnings!:

Sickness, obviously

Mentions of vomiting, snot, etc

To start us off…

It’s flu season in Twisted Wonderland, well you call it the flu, they call it something else you don’t even bother to learn. With you’re immune so shot and not used to the illnesses that spread around, getting sick more often that you honestly should, you woke up with a headache. Ok…nothing too serious, but you thought it to be a good idea to just take some ibuprofen equivalent in their world and “thug it out,” which ultimately lead to your current situation. Currently, you’re in the infirmary, having passed out from a raging fever and a disgustingly congested respiratory system during PE and you’re bed ridden back at ramshackle, at least until your fever goes down. Sevens bless Grim and the ghosts as they try and get you things to feel better, but you need some sort of intervention, and here comes you’re favorite person at the right time. How do they help you out?

Malleus 🐉:

For one, he’s surprised you called upon him of all people, but hey, he’s not complaining. He’s been training for this day somewhat because Gao-Gao Drakon-kun has taught him how to take care of things and keep them alive, though, granted it’s a lot different in this case…but he can get an A for effort, at least. The thought that counts

He’ll sit by your side and ask you what exactly are your ailments, how he can help, all just to gauge what he should do…your very different from a tamagotchi—

Pillows, blankets, anything else? He’ll magic it right your way, probably casting some spell on it, possibly a relaxation one, which would be nice for your predicament

Of course he’ll also have food covered as well, what do you want? Eat it or don’t depending on how you feel, he won’t be mad at all, he’ll just be confused as to why you won’t eat, he's pretty sure humans need to eat to get better quickly, but he won’t pry

He’ll scoff at the medicines your assigned to take and he’ll go make you ancient and passed down remedies from Briar Valley, claiming they work better…and awkwardly enough they do perform a lot better than what you were taking before, so that’s a win because maybe you’ll get better even faster

He’ll let his magic do the work for cleaning.

He’s also not afraid to get sick, he’ll sit with you, he’s more than happy to. No being grossed out here, if anything, it’s quite peculiar how differently illnesses affect humans

He’ll be smug about taking care of you. This is the first time he's done this for a friend, especially as one as good as you.

Lilia 🧚‍♀️:

Bros gonna fuck around with you as soon as he sees you, sorry. But yet again, he does have that paternal side to him, and you just look so…helpless, and he’s not cold hearted, so of course he’ll stay and take care of you

Don’t let him cook, don’t if you wanna live!

If you refuse to eat what he makes you he’ll start getting snippy and uncharacteristically strict, saying how you need to eat to keep up your energy so your body can fight away this illness. Just keep refusing his food, if you’re not hungry then that should be fine and rather easy, but if you are, have him go buy you a little snack. Better than you not eating at all he’ll finally conclude to

He’s also a little iffy with the medicines, again with the cooking, he'll try to make a medicinal item out of herbs and stuff…probably toxic instead of the intended purpose, so don’t take it, trust me. “Oh? My, my…I didn’t realize it would turn out to be a poison! Silly me. Good thing you didn’t have any beastie.” he will laugh it off.

But, he’d still give you the medicines you need, don’t worry. He’s serious when he needs to be, and you’re recovery is important to him right now

He’ll mess around with Grim and the ghosts as you lie in bed, having a little fun himself, but if you need anything, he’ll change up quick and be by your side

Blankets, water, pillows, he’s got it under cover

He’s not scared to get sick himself so he’ll stay close to your side, most likely gently cooing at you and relishing in how you’re just so cute like this

Be warned he will randomly disappear at times, but if you call him he’ll pop up in front of you, upside down as usual. But, he’ll make sure Ramshackle is quiet while you rest, don’t worry

Silver ⚔️:

He’s honored to help you out, so he’ll do so without complaint

When it comes to those he holds dear, he’ll become more protective and do what he can to help them, and you just so happen to be in that group of people, and especially with your state, you’ll be pampered. Since Silver is tasked with watching over Malleus, he’ll do the same for you

What do you need? Well, he’s already on it, actually, so don’t worry.

Food he has under control definitely, man has to save himself from Lilia’s cooking all the time and he’s learned from a young age, so whatever you want he’ll conjure up real quick. Eat it or don’t, if you’re not hungry he’ll understand and save it for later

Do be patient with him, however, he has his sleepy spells and make sure Grim is with Silver if he’s cooking at that moment, though trusting Grim to take over if Silver does fall asleep isn’t really a great option, either-

Oh! He’s awake again, ok, medications, yea, right. If he doesn’t forget to give them to you after he falls asleep, then you’ll be fine. If he does forget, remind him, he’ll apologize and be right on it

When he’s not tending to you he’ll do stuff around Ramshackle, his pet peeve is idleness, so…

He’ll clean up and make sure the rest of the inhabitants are ok

After that, he’ll go back to your room and sit in the armchair, he’s not afraid to get sick, and he’ll doze off along with you

Sebek ⚡️:

Well…he’s going to chastise you severely while he helps you. He’ll say he’s only doing it because you’re Wakasama’s good friend, and that’s the only reason why, not that he’s actually doing this because he wants to and he feels bad, no, definitely not that. “Human! I shall only provide assistance on Wakasama’s behalf!”

He’ll belittle you every time he speaks, and if you have a headache already, just get good at ignoring him yap

Again just like with Silver, his duty is to watch over Malleus, so he’ll evidently do the same with you in a sense since that’s what he’s learned. He'll wait in your room, sitting in the arm chair, most likely reading.

He’s learned to cook well enough for himself, obviously, due to Lilia’s cooking, so he’ll provide you with more nutrient dense meals if you ask him to. He won’t do it unless you ask, he doesn’t wasn’t to assume

Sebek will make sure you take your medications religiously until you're better, it’s your duty, and he always follows his duties, you should, too.

He’ll clean up here and there, make sure Grim and the ghosts are in line, and he’ll grab you anything else you could possibly want, again, not without some complaint. “Humans are weak creatures!” He doesn’t really mean it in a mean way…he’s just being honest 🤷‍♀️

He’ll try and be quiet while you sleep, but forgive him if he yells at Grim at all and wakes you up-

Afterwards he’ll probably get sick himself, feel free to make fun of him then, KARMA

IM DONEEEE! Sorry I took my sweet ass time with Diasomnia, oh lord…

Also, I realized I made each one progressively longer for each character as I progressed through the dorms, so…whoops 🧍‍♀️(I yap too fucking much-)

But hey, now I can start on a new series, just gotta come up with one- or, someone could suggest one if anyone has any ideas!

Btw, requests and asks are open!!! ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ

Master list

Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!

Pictures belong to Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)

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hoiststowline · 2 days ago

Note

Heloooooo

I see your reqs are open

I'd love to see reader using hotrod/rodimus as a heater and Roddy being like sorry I can't get up their asleep.

rodimus x reader

[a/n: hello!! & thank you, this was sm fun to write!]

He swears he has it down to a perfect science, but he’d rather keep that to himself than try to justify his second grade equation at best to Perceptor who rolled his eyes four times during the explanation. It benefits you first, the most important part- and at the very least the other two things that follow after are just collateral he was willing to accept.

Rodimus should not have access to the thermostat. That is evident when the temperature always seems to fluctuate dramatically about an hour before he’s needed to appear for something, whether it be a meeting or a routine sweep to ensure everything was in working order.

It’s always the thermostat right within your wing of the ship, locked but always broken into. The bottom button almost appears damaged, as if the offender had clicked it so many times it had begun to become worn-down and unusable.

As if on cue, roughly about fifteen minutes after the crime occurs, you’re shuffling into his room with a blanket wrapped around your shivering form. Rodimus can’t entirely feel the drastic change, he can sense it’s colder than normal, but the dipping temperature always sends you into an adorable pout.

“It’s broken again?” You murmur, each syllable accompanied by a visible breath. “That’s the third time this week,”

“I don’t think it was ever really fixed from last time,” It’s almost pitiful, the way he can’t even try to contain his smile. “Just got worse, I guess.”

He observes you, finding patience for about two seconds before he’s on his feet, being selfish for just another moment. He loves you, and wants nothing more in this instance than to give you undivided attention and sloppy kisses.

“What?” You ask, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. “I came here to complain, I didn’t-“

But both he and you knew that was a lie. You’d walked perfectly into Rodimus’ trap, perhaps subconsciously seeking his warmth that you knew he radiated. The Prime was a walking heater, and he had ensured early on that you were well aware of it.

Somehow, he’d coaxed you to his side. You couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment exactly, but it was most likely when your hands began to tremble from the cold. No amount of blankets could save you, especially within a metal ship where every surface ran about thirty degrees cold on average.

Rodimus always says the same thing every time, about how you slot so perfectly between his shoulder and helm. The most important spot, where he can rub his cheek along your stomach and keep you safely positioned there with his right servo. It’s effective, as the first time you’d actually found his chassis ran so hot you almost couldn’t bear it.

“Don’t you have a meeting in like thirty minutes?” You mumble, impossibly tiny fingers tracing random lines along his helm.

“So you’ve got thirty minutes. Take it or leave it,” He’ll never let you leave, because he enjoys this far too much. Like he said, he’s helping to solve your immediate problem, but the bonus is that he gets this time with you, alone, and the small hiccup was just that.

It isn’t very long before you’re asleep, entirely still as your breathing evens out. It’s perfect, and how you haven’t caught on yet is a mystery for another time, though he has his own suspicions you’re far wiser to this than you display. It wouldn’t matter, even if he didn’t have to break the thermostat every other day or so, because it was all part of the fun.

Right on time, the door to his room slides over, and there stands a certain bot he’d been precariously avoiding. “You cannot be serious.” Magnus whispers, only being compliant because it was you, not so much for Rodimus’ sake. “This is the third time this week. You can’t get out of your responsibilities because you’ve tricked y/n into your schemes.”

“Sorry,” That ever sincere smile appears, gesturing to his company with a hushed tone. “Can’t do anything about it until they wake up. You’ll have to carry on without me,”

And like always, Magnus departs, mildly frustrated, but he can’t ever find the sense in waking you up. For a while, it keeps Rodimus appeased, and if he has to sacrifice some broken thermostats and delayed meetings to achieve it, then it’s worth it.

#sul tf writes #sul answers #rodimus #transformers #maccadam #transformers idw #mtmte #transformers x reader #rodimus prime #rodimus x reader #rodimus idw #transformers rodimus

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warping-realities · 2 days ago

Text

2k Special - Coach Knows Best: Tight Ends

So we’ve come to the end of the 2k special. I’d like to thank again @johnbrand and @mrrharper for letting me borrow one of their ideas, but especially the great @callmecallmecrazy who I’ve been following for almost 20 years (I was underage and shouldn’t have been, but still). The Jocking has been and still is one of the most impressive things ever written in our niche; it’s not just about transformation, there’s a plot, character development and a cohesive story, and it’s something I’ve always tried to follow while writing my own work. Here, I made a little homage to his seminal work and to Clifton Jocks, which I’ll say for the thousandth time is my favorite story of all time and an impressive demonstration of developing writing skills.

Lastly, there’s a pun (or more) in the title of this story. 🙃

Just two days before the final game of the season, Steele sat in the stillness of his home, the weight of his thoughts pressing down like a heavy fog. The transformation of Tyler had been a double-edged sword. On one hand, he had become the player Steele always knew he could be. On the other, the pressure of the BACS protocol loomed ominously over everything. As he contemplated for the millionth time how to navigate the challenges ahead, his phone buzzed violently against the wooden surface of the table in front of him shattering the quiet.

Startled, he reached for his phone, glancing at the caller ID. It was Jenkins. The feeling of unease settled deeper in his gut as he answered. “What’s up?” he asked, his voice steady but laced with tension.

“Steele, we’ve got a situation,” Jenkins said, his tone serious. “Lee Dawson has gone missing from his dorm at college. He was supposed to hit up a study group and now no one’s seen him.”

Steele’s heart raced. “What do you mean missing? How long has it been since anyone last saw him?”

“Just a few hours, but it’s enough to raise alarms. From what I gathered from my guys on the team, he’d been complaining about his brother’s behavior for days, saying Tyler was acting weird. At my request, they pressed Lee for any major signs that a glitch was popping up in the BACS protocol, but whenever pressed, he backed down. There was nothing to suggest any major failure or need for intervention so far.

“I told you Lee is smart and you know why BACS has fallen out of favor, and yet you insisted. What the hell do you expect me to do now to clean up your mess?”

“What I want is for you to keep an eye out. It seems like Lee is gonna go searching for his brother or even come to you. In that case, you need to find out what’s going on. This could have serious implications,” Jenkins urged, his voice quickening.

“Implications? What the hell are you talking about?” Steele shot back, a sense of dread creeping into his thoughts. The last thing he wanted was to be linked to the board’s experiments or Tyler’s recent transformation if shit hit the fan.

“Let’s be real, Steele. If the government finds out what we did with BACS, we could all be in deep trouble. You need to act fast. In the worst-case scenario, you’re authorized to use BACS on the older Dawson.” Jenkins warned, urgency unmistakable in his voice.

“That won’t be necessary. I’m on it, but I warned you, Jenkins, you idiot!” Steele replied, his mind racing. He couldn’t let this situation spiral out of control. As he hung up the phone, he felt the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders. He had to find and protect Lee, and somehow make him understand the whole program before the kid, who was Steele’s greatest pride, ended up consumed by it like his brother had.

Steele woke up before dawn, the clock reading 4 AM. He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, battling the heavy feeling that seemed to have settled in his mind. The morning darkness enveloped the room as his thoughts churned about Lee and Tyler. It was a constant struggle between the determination to keep his legacy as a coach intact and the guilt that consumed him.

He got up and started his morning routine. The first task was to run. He laced up his running shoes, threw on a simple T-shirt, and headed out, feeling the cold morning air against his face. Each step took him further away from his worries, and he tried to keep a steady pace. Running had always been his way to release built-up tension, but today felt harder. His thoughts kept drifting back to Tyler’s situation and what he could have done differently.

After 30 minutes of running, Steele finished his routine with calisthenics. Push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups; all done in silence, but his mind was far from what he was doing. He felt like a robot, following a routine without really being present. The joy he used to feel while working out was missing, replaced by a sense of emptiness.

With sweat dripping down his face, he returned home and made breakfast. He brewed a strong cup of black coffee, letting the dark liquid fill the mug. Coffee, once a comforting ritual, now tasted bland, as if bitterness had seeped into his life. He served himself an absurd amount of food: eggs, bacon, toast, and fruit. But even while eating, he couldn’t savor the meal. Each bite felt like an obligation, a meaningless ritual.

After breakfast, he shaved, staring at his reflection in the mirror, noticing the deep circles under his eyes. “What the hell happened to me?” he thought, doubt creeping into his mind. He had been a passionate coach, someone who inspired his players to become the best versions of themselves. Now, he found himself trapped in a cycle of manipulation and politics that was corroding his soul.

After getting ready, Steele finally left for school, his car cutting through the quiet morning. But upon arriving at the school parking lot, he hesitated. He stopped the car and sat there, watching the students arrive, the laughter and chatter floating in the air. He felt like a spectator in his own world.

“How did I end up here?” he murmured to himself. He remembered when everything seemed so simple, when his love for football was pure and genuine. He had a dream: to turn young athletes into champions, to guide them through hardships, and help them shine. But over time, he became obsessed with winning, accepting the machinations of the board, believing it was all worth it. He convinced himself he was offering insignificant kids the chance to experience the same glories he had. But now, after what happened with Tyler, those certainties were crumbling. The kid had been the kind of athlete who, with the right encouragement and training, could have been for the Tight Ends what Brock Purdy was for quarterbacks: a last pick with seemingly no shine but whose effort and skill landed him a spot on one of the big league teams. Now? Sure, the kid was great, almost perfect. No doubt he’d shine, but it’d be an artificial shine, risking being marked more by a influencer life than what he did on the field, more like a Garoppolo than a Purdy. And then there was Lee, the incredible Lee, Steele’s greatest victory, shaped just right, now at risk of going through the same shit as his brother. Thinking about that made Steele’s gut churn, and a new determination surged within him. He could lose everything, but he was going to make sure Lee wouldn’t get caught up in this, even if it meant making some subtle tweaks, a little memory alteration… maybe something to boost his stats before the Combine… Then, without realizing the hypocrisy and contradiction in his own way of thinking, the coach let out a long sigh and headed off to start the day’s work.

…..

The locker room was in a state of controlled chaos. The boys on the team were undressing and getting ready to put on their practice uniforms. The distinct smell of deodorant mixed with male sweat hung in the air, and the atmosphere was filled with laughter and teasing.

“Look who’s here! The king of farts!” Trey shouted, letting out a loud fart. The room erupted in laughter, and the boys started mimicking fart sounds.

“For God’s sake, dude! You need a deodorant for your ass!” Connor teased, making everyone laugh even harder.

Rafael, always ready to stand out, raised his hands as if he was about to make a speech. “Attention, attention! The champion of burps is here!” He then let out a burp so loud it echoed through the locker room, causing another wave of laughter.

“You and your special talents, Rafe. One day you’re gonna win an award for that!” Miguel joked, while getting dressed. “Most retarded award!”

The boys continued to talk nonsense, sharing stories about weekend parties, the girls they had hooked up with, and the drunken escapades they had. The vibe was carefree, a celebration of the brotherhood that existed among them, but also tinged with machismo and arrogance.

“Dude, did you see the new cheerleader? The transfer girl, blonde with blue eyes?” Miguel commented, winking at the others. “She was totally checking me out during practice. Bet she’s in love with me!”

“Probably out of pity for your malnourished state!” Adam replied, laughing. “But it’s true, she’s hot. I’d hit that too.”

“Malnourished? I’m ripped, you fatass!”

“That’s just jealousy of my muscles, scrawny boy?”

“Jealousy is what you have of my abs, fatty!”

As the chatter continued, Tyler, sitting a bit further away, looked at Brock with a frustrated expression while tying his cleats. “Man, my brother’s been an ass lately. Lee’s always been a bit too uptight, but lately, he’s just straight-up unbearable,” Tyler said, trying to keep his tone light, but irritation was evident.

“Like, he keeps nagging me about my grades, and I can’t deal with it anymore. I stopped replying to his texts. I’ve told him Cs get degrees,” he vented, his voice dropping lower, almost lost in the locker room noise.

“Well, the problem is you hardly ever get Cs, do you?”

“As if you’re any better, you dumbass. You know Coach is gonna sort this out and we’re all gonna get into college with football scholarships. But for Lee, that’s not enough; it’s like he wanted another brother instead of me.”

Brock looked at Tyler, sensing his frustration. “Dude, I get it. It’s tough when you have a brother who seems to be trying to control you. But at the same time, he just wants what’s best for you, right? Maybe he’s just worrying too much.”

“Maybe… but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s being a total pain. He doesn’t know how to have fun. It’s like he thinks life is only about training and studying,” Tyler replied, shaking his head, visibly irritated.

“Man, you need to put him in his place then. One day, he’s gonna realize life isn’t just about work. You gotta enjoy the journey too, just like we do here on the team!” Brock said, trying to encourage Tyler to feel better about the situation.

“Whatever, maybe I should try talking to him again, but just thinking about it makes me tired,” Tyler mumbled, crossing his arms.

What the boys didn’t realize was that Coach Steele had entered the locker room just as the conversation was heating up.

“Is that what I heard, Tyler?” Steele asked, his gaze fixed on the young man. “You’ve been ignoring your brother?”

Tyler hesitated before answering. “Uh… I’m just tired of hearing the same old shit, coach. He just wants me to fit into the image he has of me. I just wanted some space,” he said, trying to justify his behavior.

Steele shook his head, arms crossed over his chest. “Look, Tyler, you might not like what Lee has to say, but he’s your brother. What he wants is what any brother wants: the best for you. Ignoring his texts isn’t the solution. You might not realize it, but he cares about you,” Steele said, his voice firm.

“Yeah, I know. I just… I just need some space, that’s all,” Tyler muttered, a bit frustrated.

“I get that you need space, but that doesn’t mean you should push him away. Promise me one thing, if he tries to reach out again, don’t ignore him, but more importantly, I want you to tell me right away,” Steele said, with a serious look. “Now, let’s go, finish getting ready. It’s almost time for practice.”

The boys nodded, and the conversation quickly dissipated as they hurried to get ready. When everyone was ready, they headed out to the field. The sun was shining brightly, and the energy of the team was palpable. Steele watched as the players lined up, each carrying a confidence that was contagious. He felt a little lighter, even knowing the precarious situation he was in.

“Today’s the last practice before the finals,” Steele began, capturing everyone’s attention. “That means we need to give it everything we’ve got. Remember, the opposing team is gonna come onto the field wanting to take us down. But they’re gonna face the Titans, and we’re gonna show them what that means!”

The players shouted in response, adrenaline coursing through their veins. The practice began and Steele moved around the field, watching every move, every play. The boys were in sync, their skills at their peak and their energies channeled toward a common goal. Steele watched it all with a satisfied smile. The hard work and dedication were paying off. He remembered his own experiences and what it meant to form a cohesive team. “Great job, boys!” he shouted, as the players regrouped in the locker room after practice. “You’re ready to face the Knights! What we saw today was magnificent. Each of you gave your best. Remember, tomorrow is the big day. You have a chance to show everyone what it means to be a Titan.”

The players shouted in response, the spirit of unity filling the air. “One last thing: rest up! I don’t want to hear that anyone partied or drank alcohol before the finals. If you do, I’ll skin you alive!”

Laughter and shouts spread through the locker room, but Steele’s seriousness conveyed the message that he truly cared. The boys knew he was there to guide them and protect what they had built together.

With practice wrapped up, the players dispersed, ready to rest up and prepare for the big game.

…

Night fell, and as the city prepared for the game the next day, Tyler lay in bed, heart racing and mind full of expectations. He knew he had a role to play, and he was determined to do it to the best of his ability. In the darkness of his room he was lost in thought, recalling the day’s practices and what awaited him in the big game.

At that moment, Lee walked into the room unannounced, his expression serious. “Tyler, we need to talk,” he said, looking intently at his brother.

Tyler frowned. “Lee? WTF? What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”

“You. Something’s not right with you,” Lee replied, worry evident in his voice. “I can’t pinpoint what it is, but I feel like something’s changed.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Tyler asked, confused and a little irritated. “I’m great! I’m about to crush it in the game tomorrow!”

Lee shook his head, frustration growing. “It’s not that, Tyler! It’s like you’re… different. Like you’re not really you. I… I’m worried.”

“What the hell, Lee? Who else could I be? And worried? You don’t know anything about me! I’m never good enough for you, right? You’ve always been the favorite, the family talent!” Tyler shouted, anger boiling over. “But I’m gonna prove to everyone that I’m better than you, that I’m the best player!”

Lee looked at him, pain in his eyes. “Tyler, I’ve never cared about that. For me, there’s never been a competition between us. I just wanted you to be happy in your own way. You don’t have to try to be what I am or what you think everyone expects from you. What matters is that you’re yourself.”

“You don’t get it! I can’t just be me, with a Mr. Perfect brother I always have to be the better! And now that I’m finally getting attention, I can’t let it slip away!” Tyler shot back, his voice filled with frustration.

“I… I think I understand more than you realize,” Lee said, sadness weighing on his words.

“You’re not making sense, Lee! I just want to be recognized, and that involves winning! For me, that’s everything!” Tyler replied, anger replacing insecurity.

“I really thought I could trust him… I don’t know what I can do to help you, but I’ll try. Just know that I love you, little bro. I hope that next time we see each other, we can recognize each other for who we really are.”

Tyler sat there, alone, frustration and confusion flooding his mind. Until a memory popped into his head. He grabbed his phone and called Coach Steele. “Coach, I… I need to talk to you,” he said as soon as the call connected.

“Sure, Tyler. What’s up?” Steele replied, his voice calm and attentive.

“It’s about Lee. He was just here… and he doesn’t seem right; he said a bunch of nonsensical things… he thinks something’s wrong with me, and I don’t know how to deal with it. I act all tough, like I’m the best Dawson, but the truth is, Lee is my biggest inspiration, and seeing him like this… please help him!” Tyler poured out, tension evident in his voice.

“Tyler, I need you to try to remember what else your brother said. Did he say where he was going?” Steele asked, his voice now more concerned.

“I don’t know, coach. No, he didn’t say. He just mentioned he thought he could trust someone and that… that he’d try to help me… and that he hoped next time we met, we could… recognize each other. I have no idea what he meant by that.”

“I do. Try to calm down and get some sleep; tomorrow is the big day, and I promise everything will be alright. Better yet, Lee will be there to watch you shine, trust me!”

“Always, Coach!”

…

Steele hung up the phone, poured a generous shot of bourbon into two glasses, and waited for Lee. It seemed the time had come for him to answer for his choices in front of one of the few people he cared about in this world.

….

Lee walked toward Steele’s mansion, his heart racing and his mind a whirlwind of emotions. The worry for Tyler consumed him, and his brother’s words echoed in his head. “What’s wrong with him? Or is it me? Ty is right; I’m not making any sense! Still, I know… that’s not who he should be!” Lee thought, feeling frustrated for not being able to understand what was happening, but he knew there was someone who understood and worse, could be responsible for it all. As he walked, fear and frustration overwhelmed him. For it wasn’t the first time he felt that way; if he had done something sooner… maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have to go through this with his own brother.

As Lee walked through the familiar streets, he couldn't help but remember those times he felt that same awkwardness when he was on the team. Not in the same creepy way as now, but it was there, this uneasy feeling, as his teammates came and went. He figured it was 'cause he never really clicked with the others off the field; his life was all about discipline, totally grinding to improve. His body was a temple, and football was his religion. Of course, there was the Pastor: Steele. They had a tight bond, with the coach filling the gap left by his dad when he bailed on the family. Maybe that’s why Lee ignored what his gut was telling him every time a new player joined the team. It’s also why he asked Steele to treat Tyler the same way he treated him. Now, Lee felt like a total fool for thinking Steele would keep that promise. The coach was the one who drilled into him the idea of winning at all costs... he just chose to overlook that to Steele “at all costs” also included everyone else. And now, his brother was paying the price for that mistake.

Standing in front of the big mansion gate, Lee felt a chill in his stomach. Without doing anything, it opened, and he walked up to the porch where the imposing figure of Steele awaited him.

“Lee, I was expecting you,” Steele said, his expression serious. “Sit down and grab a glass.” The man settled into a magnificent leather armchair and pointed to a glass of bourbon.

“You know I don’t drink. My diet is strict to not affect my performance. Besides, I need to know, what did you do to my brother?”

“To explain what happened to Tyler, I need to tell you a very long story. And I know you don’t drink, kid, but trust me, with what we need to talk about, you’re gonna need it.”

Lee complied, but the tension in the air was palpable.

“Coach, I don’t need a story; I need to know what happened to my brother… more than that… I need to know who my brother really is… or I think I’m gonna lose my mind… I need you to reverse what you did.”

“It’s not that simple, kid. What you’re asking isn’t impossible, but highly unlikely. So I need you to understand. And to understand, I need to tell you everything from the beginning, so please take a sip and listen.”

Still reluctant, Lee conceded and positioned himself to hear his former coach, feeling the drink burn his throat and warm his stomach.

“Good, good. The story I’m about to tell you starts way before Tyler, you and even me. Back in the mid-2000s, a decline in the number of young men dedicating themselves to contact sports, notably football, began to be noticed. You might question this info due to what came shortly after, but trust me, it’s real. Continuing, due to this decline, a group formed that is now known as The Board, whose goal was to find ways to prevent this decline from becoming irreversible. And thus, the so-called Enhancement Protocols emerged. Due to the shady nature of such protocols, it was established that the test fields would be some schools across the country and always with individuals over 18. Colleges would be a highly unfeasible field, and the NFL, with all its scrutiny, would be unthinkable. What happened next was… revolutionary but also opened the doors to a true hell.” Steele said, pausing to take a long sip of his own drink before continuing.

“In one location where I have no access, one of the coaches responsible found gold. A way to alter the very fabric of reality and turn insignificant kids into perfect players. The techniques used were multiple as long as there was a catalyst; clothing, food, even the presence of another altered player was enough to modify an unsuspecting target. It was groundbreaking. But there were two problems: it messed with things that shouldn’t be messed with. A bunch of mumbo jumbo occult stuff whose details are better left unsaid. The other problem is that he went rogue. The modified players of his spread like a wildfire, hitting colleges and schools all over the country to the point that the fabric of reality became so thin it allowed certain things that should’ve stayed out to come in. At that time, I was already playing for the Eagles, and I’d like to believe the NFL wasn’t affected, but I can’t know, the man’s insanity was that great. The Board can’t say for sure, nor can the government, because the one who finally ended that coach’s megalomania was an apparently ordinary individual, but whom I believe is still imbued with more power than any man should have. But thanks to him, reality got back to how it should’ve been, that is, more or less…” Steele let out a long sigh before continuing.

“The kid had no way of knowing about the board’s existence, and it reestablished itself, and from what was left of that mad coach’s work, developed the current protocols.” Steele continued with a serious air.

“I discovered the protocols in my first year as a coach. At that time, the board was still being inconspicuous, the group that took down the coach I mentioned was still active. Initially, I was against using such methods. But the decline of the 2000s was nothing compared to the mid-decade past. Suddenly, kids became these delicate little flowers that can’t handle anything, snowflakes is the term you’ll hear the most. A lot of people associate this with sexuality. Frankly, I don’t give a damn who you fuck with. But watching a bunch of crybabies dominate the school hallways while my team, a place where real men were being formed, dwindled to the point of risking disappearing? I couldn’t accept that. So I let the board into my life and my Titans. Initially only to fill some gaps, cover some deficiencies. I justified it to myself. But over time I used the protocols more and more to the point of having no justifications. Not that I cared anymore, because the Titans had become the team I always thought it should be…

“You… I… did you do something to me?” Lee asked, his voice trembling.

“No, you, Lee, you were a gift to me, a perfect player with no need for intervention, totally focused and dedicated, even not fitting into certain specifications of the board. Specifications I never cared about, by the way. But even the board never dared to ask me to intervene with you given your impressive stats. And I don’t know if I would’ve done anything, even if they asked. The truth is, you reminded me of myself, and I would’ve never had the guts to do anything to you. But then came Tyler. Tyler was a younger version of you, unfortunately without the same impressive talent. Not that the kid lacked talent, but it just wasn’t enough. And the board intervened in the worst way possible. Right before you left for college, taking advantage of the calm environment after so many years acting in the shadows, the they became bold. They developed a method that traded the elegance and subtlety of the previous ones for a much faster and seemingly just as effective one. They called it the BACS Protocol, a stupid acronym that doesn’t matter right now. What’s important is that with this protocol, all it takes is a signal sent by a simple smartphone to a previously exposed individual to a catalyst that can even be dispersed in the air around him, and out of nowhere you have a perfect player ready under all the specifications of the council. To avoid a bunch of clones walking around, the signal uses the player’s own perceptions of what each of the acronym’s specifications represents and uses the individual’s genetic base to update him. For someone like you or Tyler, this can be… disturbing, a change so fast and radical in the fabric of reality without a safer catalyst, an anchor. See, with a stable enough catalyst even the transformed's family members can be modified to better fit their new narrative. BACS has no such capability, which in retrospect may have been a blessing, just thinking about what could have happened to you... sorry, I lost focus. The truth is that unlike safer methods this absence leads to some glitches. Like the ones you’ve been feeling.”

“You mean to say that Tyler…?”

“Yeah… the protocol was shut down due to failures, but for some obtuse reason, the board decided to pick it back up and Tyler was chosen as an example.”

“And you didn’t do a damn thing???” Lee asked, outraged. “You just let my brother be taken like a pig to slaughter? And turned him into this?”

“That’s still your brother, just like many of your teammates with whom you sweat and bled for victory. They’re still people, Lee, with dreams and desires. You might even disagree with their way of life, but don’t treat them like things.”

“I can’t believe the size of your hypocrisy!”

“Yeah, I’m a hypocrite. But I’ve always treated my players the same, the naturals and the modified ones; to me, there’s no difference between them. Except for you, like BACS has its glitches, you were mine.”

“Then help me, help revert what happened to Tyler!”

“It’s harder than you can imagine, Lee. There’s someone out there with that capability, but you don’t want to get in his way!”

“Why not?”

“Because he would destroy everything I’ve built, everything you know too, because that’s his mission. And I can’t allow that.”

“And what’s stopping me from going after this guy on my own?”

“The fact that you ingested a high dose of the catalyst compound and are in the presence of a very strong physical catalyst right next to you, namely me. I swear I’d rather not do this to you, but after letting what happened to Tyler happen, it’s better this way. I promise the only thing that will change for you is accepting reality and Tyler as they are now!”

Upon hearing that, Lee tried to move, but it felt like he was glued to the chair, as if trapped in an invisible trap. While Coach Steele, the man he considered a substitute father, betrayed him a second time.

Seated, paralyzed in that armchair, Lee felt a strange pressure in his body, followed by a wave of heat, and then the first transformation took over his arms, which began to swell, the muscles expanding under the skin. He looked down, perplexed, as his biceps became so bulky with muscles and fat they seemed ready to burst through the shirt he wore. Seeing that, Steele’s eyes widened, and he shouted: “That wasn’t supposed to happen!” But as he tried to get up and somehow intervene, he found himself glued to his own seat. With nothing left to do, the coach watched in growing panic as what came next unfolded.

As he struggled to comprehend what was happening, Lee's legs began to change too. His already huge thighs swelled even more, becoming the size of tree trunks, while a layer of fat started to accumulate, softening the sharp lines he had worked so hard to achieve. Lee felt a mix of horror and a strange pleasure as that transformation unfolded, as if his body were rebelling against his will.

“Lee, you need to resist!” Coach Steele shouted, but his voice sounded distant and powerless, for he knew there was nothing that could be done.

The pressure in his abdomen intensified, and Lee could feel his belly protruding. The famous eight-pack he valued so much was disappearing, replaced by a still firm belly, but now with a more robust appearance, a true muscle gut. He felt as if he were in a nightmare, struggling against the waves of transformation that dominated him. As he attempted to speak, a loud burp escaped involuntarily… buuuuuuurp…

“This can’t be happening!”, Steele repeated, thrashing in his chair. As the change reached Lee’s face, his jaw became more square momentarily only to be hidden by a layer of fat, and then by a thick, scruffy beard. The straight, well-kept hair he always sported now fell in messy locks, giving him a wild look. Lee tried to protest once more, but another burp escaped, and he felt even more frustrated. “Why is this happening?!” confusion dominating his thoughts.

The changes reached his feet, once slender, now starting to expand, going from a respectable size 11 to a gigantic size 15, ripping the sneakers he wore, each thick toe covered with a layer of dark hair. His firm, muscular backside turned into a big cushion. Coach Steele, watching in a mix of horror and despair, shook his head. “No, Lee! Please, no! What have I done?!” he shouted, his voice trembling. The horror of the situation enveloped him, and he felt powerless, unable to help.

As the transformation peaked, Lee found himself in a more muscular and robust body, more like an offensive guard than a tight end. Not that he could think of that, for at that moment, his mind was invaded by conflicting information. The strict diet with complex carbs and high-quality proteins and zero alcohol was replaced by a ogre diet and occasional binge drinking, nothing that would harm the team, but off-season is off-season for a reason. The obsession with being the best remained, but the way of looking at it shifted from almost military-level self-demand to the belief that he would be the best because he always had been; it was inherent to him. The serious and even somber demeanor was replaced by a carefree joy and an unshakeable teenage humor. As a smile spread across his face, it was all over. There was nothing else Steele could do, even if he managed to move, which was still impossible for him.

Lee’s worried and quick thoughts were replaced by an almost absolute relaxation; he was someone who knew his place and what he had to do. Anyone looking from the outside would have the impression of a big teddy bear, but once against him, they’d see he was, in fact, a raging grizzly bear when on the field.

With a carefree attitude, he looked at himself. His clothes were bursting at the seams, the fabric struggling to keep up with the growth of his new body. His shirt was stretched so tight it looked like it could rip at any moment, while his shorts looked more like strips than actual clothing. What the hell had happened? But before he could even think of worrying, his gut acted up, and Lee let out a loud and uncontrollable fart, while the room echoed with the sound he burst into laughter, any trace of horror turning into a moment of pure joy.

As Lee reveled in his new form, patting his powerful gut with a goofy grin on his face, Coach Steele just watched, horrified and powerless. “What have I done...,” he murmured, his mind whirling around the implications of his pupil’s transformation.

Without either man noticing, Jenkins entered the room just as Lee’s transformation completed. He observed the now-imposing young man with his muscular and robust body. A satisfied smile spread across his face. “What did you do?” Jenkins said, with a tone of disdain, startling Steele, who hadn’t seen the sly man but realized at that moment who was truly behind what had happened. “Just what you should’ve done a long time ago. But the specifications weren’t yours.”

Jenkins then turned to Lee, who now looked like a true giant. “Hey, Bull Dawg, how’s it going?” he asked, the provocation evident in his voice.

Lee, exuding the chill vibe that now surrounded him, smiled back. “I’m feeling kinda funny,” he replied, as he stood up and admired himself in one of the mirrors in the room.

“Must be all the whiskey you’ve been drinking,” Jenkins remarked, laughing. “You’ve always been the type to not miss a chance to have fun.”

Lee shot a quick glance at Jenkins, winking playfully. “You know me too well,” he replied, flexing his huge arms and biceps, completely ruining the shirt he wore and exposing his powerful pecs and exuberant muscle gut covered in wild hair.

"Alright, alright. Now, if you’ll excuse me," Jenkins said, turning to Lee, "Steele and I need to hash out some big kid stuff."

"Whatever," Lee shot back, all nonchalant. "But I’m taking the whiskey with me." He turned, the power of his new, impressive body filling the space around him as he grabbed the bottle of bourbon but no glass.

Jenkins and Steele watched as Lee strutted out of the room, one with a smug grin and the other with a dead-serious look. The giant’s heavy footsteps echoed on the floor, his muscular back and well-defined glutes becoming a spectacle in their own right, while the shorts several sizes too small threatened to rip with every step those powerful bare feet took.

“A true masterpiece.” Jenkins said, settling into the chair where Lee had been sitting moments before, the leather still warm from his presence. He crossed his legs, a satisfied smile forming on his lips as he looked at Coach Steele, who still seemed to be digesting what had just happened.

“So, Steele,” Jenkins began, his voice calm and controlled, “what do you think of all this?”

Steele, unable to move, finally found his voice. “What did you do, Jenkins? Why make such a drastic decision with a talented athlete like Lee?”

“Oh, Steele,” Jenkins replied, shaking his head almost condescendingly. “You yourself pointed out that BACS has its glitches. And Dawson became a problem. We needed a solution; he was a valuable asset, but the market is changing, so I decided to kill two birds with one stone. What you need to understand is that even though there’s always room for the disciplined athlete like Tom Brady, that’s so 2000s… no, no, with Jason Kelce’s retirement, a niche opened up, that of the wild giant who turns out to be a cute clown. Men identify with him thinking illusionarily that a body like his is more easily attainable than a “more fit one”, and women see the figure of a future husband, someone not so worried about having a sixpack. Which reminds me that I need to find a good girlfriend for the kid and maybe twin boys in a year or two… So, a big teddy bear with a younger, more rebellious bro? All that's left is to find a pop diva to make that winning combo happen again, right? I wonder if I still have Olívia Rodrigo manager's phone number. I’ll have to figure that out too… So the boring, regimented and suspicious Lee needed to go so that the fun, lovable yet aggressive when necessary Bull Dawg could emerge. Ahh the amount of profits these brothers will bring!

"I believed the board wanted the best athletes possible," Steele said, his voice thick with anger.

"The board wants profits. And believe me, someone like the old Lee doesn't do a tenth of what Bull Dawg promises. The public wants their idols to be close to them. They want to feel like they're part of their lives. They want them to be fun. Trust me, Lee Bull Dawg Dawson is someone who knows how to have fun, especially with the products and facilities of our sponsors."

"You and I have very different opinions of what a football fan wants."

"And so we come to the real reason I'm here today. Dawson was just an appetizer, the main course is you, you and your damn insubordination."

Steele took a deep breath, trying to keep his composure as Jenkins’ words echoed in his mind. “I’ve always been loyal to the board’s guidelines, Jenkins. You know that. I’ve always put the rules first.” His voice trembled slightly, but he fought to maintain a firm tone.

Jenkins leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and disdain. “Loyalty? Is this what you call loyalty? The admiration you feel for Lee Dawson blinded you, Steele. You didn’t see that the younger Dawson needed enhancement. Your focus was so fixated on your precious Lee that you ignored what was right in front of you.”

Steele felt the blood rush to his head, indignation forming like a storm inside him. “I didn’t hide anything from the board! I always did what was best for the athletes, not just for one of them. You can’t just…”

“Can’t just what?” Jenkins interrupted, an ironic smile forming on his lips. “Hide the truth? Like you did? Since the incident years ago, you know the board can’t allow any coaches to go rogue. And you, my friend, have crossed the line. Your romanticized vision of what Lee and Tyler could be became a trap, and now you’re gonna pay the price.”

Steele tried to stand, but found himself glued to the chair, as if an invisible force kept him there. Panic began to spread through his body, and he turned to Jenkins, his expression turning to desperation. “Jenkins, please, I beg you!”

“Oh, but I have no choice, Steele,” Jenkins replied, his voice now wrapped in a chilling tone. “Did you really think we wouldn’t have a way to deal with types like you? You’re gonna go through the COACH protocol. Complete Overdrive and Assimilation to the Command Hierarchy. It’s what the council decided. On the field, your attitude is impeccable and should continue that way. But you have no idea how happy I am to be free of your stiffness and bitterness, of your unbearable righteousness.” Jenkins said with a mocking smile that showed all his satisfaction before continuing to speak.

“But cheer up, after the step taken with Lee today, the board decided it’s finally time to expand to college, and you, my future and less uptight best friend, are gonna be the pioneer of this. A spot coaching your old college team awaits your new media approved showman self. A self that will pave your way back to the NFL when the board deems it necessary.”

With one last effort, Steele tried to break free, but the pressure was unbearable. He looked around the room, searching for an escape, but everything seemed to fade around him. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Jenkins’ smug grin, a smile that symbolized both triumph and betrayal, as darkness enveloped him.

….

The celebration at Coach Steele's house after the championship was epic. The Titans, once again, showed their power on the field, snagging the title with an impressive victory. The atmosphere was filled with euphoria, and the players were ready to party. Steele’s house was packed with food, drinks, and laughter, with the guys from the team having a blast while reminiscing about the best moments of the season.

Brock, Adam, Connor, and the rest were all there, laughing and making toasts. Lee, who had been given a break from classes until after the Christmas holidays thanks to Mr. Jenkins, was in his element. He moved through the party like a king, surrounded by friends and admirers. Upon finding his little brother, he couldn't help but smile.

"You really gave it your all this season, T-Dawg!" he said, raising his cup. "I’m so proud of you!"

"Thanks, big bro! And this is just the beginning! I’m ready to head to college and show everyone what I can do!" Tyler replied, his smile shining even brighter.

Lee looked at Tyler, a satisfied grin on his lips. "You know, I’m really glad I won’t have to face you on the field. With you playing like a beast, I’d be in trouble!" He laughed.

Tyler smiled back but couldn't help thinking about what that meant. "Oh, but who knows, maybe one day we’ll meet in the NFL? You could still be my rival on the field or worse, we might end up competing for the same position on a team."

Lee gave Tyler a pat on the shoulder, his smile turning into a rare serious look. "Listen, don’t worry about that. The truth is, when I come back from break, I’ll probably be moved to another position, maybe as a guard or center. I’ve outgrown what a Tight End should be.” He said with a grin while giving a little pat on his muscular gut. “So, if all goes well, we’ll never have to compete for the same spot, better we can be an incredible duo on the same team."

Tyler looked surprised by the revelation. "Seriously? That’s amazing! But… how are we gonna figure out who’s the better player?"

Lee chuckled, shaking his head again. "Fuck who’s better, Tyler! What I really want is to play football and go pro. If it’s alongside you, even better. But enough talk, we should be having fun."

As the party progressed, the energy was through the roof. The guys started competing in an impromptu arm wrestling championship in one corner, while flip cup and beer pong dominated other spots. The music was blasting, and the drinks flowed freely. Lee, in particular, seemed to be enjoying himself more and more, his confidence soaring. His teenage behavior, despite his age, was not out of place among the Titans boys who saw him as an example to follow. He began bragging about his achievements, cracking jokes and teasing the others.

"Hey, who wants to see Bull Dawg do a backflip? Bet I can nail it!" Lee shouted, seizing a moment when Steele were momentarily absent, drawing everyone’s attention in the backyard.

"Go for it, bro!" Tyler shouted, as the crowd's excitement peaked.

As everyone gathered around the pool, Lee climbed onto a small platform, determination etched on his face. He was visibly drunk, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to impress his brother and friends. Tyler and the others watched, a mix of anxiety and fun on their faces, as intoxicated as the older man.

"Go, Lee! Show what you got!" Connor yelled, cheering on his friend.

Lee got ready, taking a deep breath before launching himself into the air. The backflip was perfect, and the impact of his massive body hitting the water was violent, soaking everyone around and sending the team boys into a frenzy.

“Bull Dawg!!! Bull Dawg!!” they all shouted in unison. As he came out of the pool laughing excitedly. Meanwhile, Tyler hugged his brother, saying, “Now I gotta do something bigger!”

“Chill, T-Dawg, you’ve already done enough! You're way cooler than I am! But you are a bit too dry for my taste!” Lee replied, shoving his little brother into the pool and falling in with him amidst laughter.

At that moment, Coach Steele approached with his usual off the field chill smile. He watched the scene, pleased to see that everyone there, just like himself, perfectly fit the board’s criteria, but he also felt the need to maintain at least a certain level of discipline. With a firm movement, he stepped closer to the group, calling everyone’s attention.

“Hey, boys! Time to stop the show!” Steele said, his voice booming over the party noise. The music faded into a whisper as heads turned to look at the coach. Lee and Tyler, still wet and smiling, climbed out of the pool, with Dawson boys striking a triumphant pose of gratitude.

“Come on, coach! We’re just celebrating!” Tyler said, laughing.

“Celebrating is great, but I need you all to remember what it means to be a Titan!” Steele began, his voice gaining strength as he spoke. “This season wasn’t just about winning on the field. It was about teamwork, overcoming challenges, and what it means to be part of a family. Each of you proved that together, we’re stronger. And that’s not just a motto; it’s our truth.”

The boys listened intently, the festive atmosphere shifting quickly to a more serious tone.

“You learned to fight for what you believe in, to support each other, and to never give up. Most importantly, you discovered who you really are. That’s what makes you Titans. And I want you to carry that with you forever. No matter where life takes you, always take with you the team spirit we built here,” Steele continued, his gaze steady and determined.

“Now, I have something important to share with you. I’ve been invited to take the position of offensive line coach at Ohio State,” he announced, and a murmur of surprise spread through the group.

“Wow, coach! That’s awesome!” Rafe shouted, clapping.

“I know many of you dream of playing at a higher level, and this is the chance I need to take the experience you had here to a new level. But that means I’ll have to leave the Titans, at least for now,” Steele said, his voice firm, but a bit melancholic. The atmosphere became heavy, the reality of his departure starting to settle in among the players.

“I want you to know that this team meant everything to me. Each of you has incredible talent, and I’ll be cheering for all of you. As soon as I get there, I’ll make sure to stay in touch. And I hope to see some of these faces in September,” he said, looking into each player’s eyes.

“And for the rest, don’t worry! I’ll personally choose the next coach for the Titans. You can trust I’ll pick someone who will continue what we started here, someone who understands what it means to be a Titan. Trust me, after all, as you all say, Coach Knows Best.”

The boys started to applaud, the energy filling the room again. “Thank you, coach! You’re the best!” they shouted in unison.

“Now, get back to having fun! Go Titans!” Steele exclaimed, raising his beer glass in a toast.

The players shouted in response, excitement taking over again. They gathered in a circle, raised their cups, and yelled: “Go Titans!”

#male tf #mind change #reality change #mental transformation #corruption #musclegrowth

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channieshaven · 2 days ago

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Sensitive

genre: smut

pairing: sub!han jisung x reader

word count: 1.3k

warnings: roommates to lovers, tickling, nipple play, nothing extreme honestly just reader messing with jisung

~~~

You were in your room working at your desk, focused on finishing up some papers for work when you heard the padding of feet walking into the room. You heard the sound of none other than Jisung plopping down, letting out a heavy sigh.

“I’m so bored.” He dragged out the end of the word for dramatic effect.

“You poor thing. I’ll be done here in just a little bit so you won’t have to suffer much longer.” You said playfully with a small smile on your face, continuing to type at your keyboard.

Jisung sighs again, “But I want you to hang out with me now.” You can tell a pout is clearly on his face just by the way he sounds.

You swivel around in your chair, looking over to him on the bed, feeling mischievous, “Yeah? You want my attention that bad, huh?”

The chair rolls back slightly as you practically jump from it, pouncing onto the bed and straddling his lap. “Any and all attention, right?” You smile, beginning to run your fingers over his sides, tickling him playfully. He immediately begins laughing and squirming at the sensation, trying to bat your hands away.

“S-stop it!” He pleads, giggling as he says it. You can’t help but grin at him, finding enjoyment in seeing him so flustered and out of control. He just looks too cute with that smile and those flushed cheeks. He squirms uncontrollably, trying to escape your ministrations. Attempting again to push your hands away, but this time you catch them, pinning them above his head as the fingers on your other hand continue to dance along his stomach and sides.

“Please, it’s t-too much!” He begs yet again, and it’s then that you notice little tears forming in his eyes from how hard he’s laughing.

“But you love it so much. Why else would you be laughing?” Voice dripping with saccharine. You know he can’t help the way he’s reacting but it doesn’t make you want to tease him any less.

“I’m serious! You have to- have to stop now!” His protests don’t slow your roll though as you continue messing with him. At least until you hear it. The whiniest, most pathetic moan, and the feeling of shuddering beneath you.

At first you’re sure you’re just imagining things, but that thought is dead and gone when you see his lips parted, face scrunched and no longer laughing. Your movements halt completely at the discovery. “Jisung… are you- did you just?” Hardly able to form the right question, fearing embarrassing him or maybe even yourself.

He lets out a whine, trying to turn his blushing face away from you, not even bothering to struggle with getting his wrists free from the grip you still (forgetfully) have on them. As much as everything in your mind is telling you to move from him, to give him space after this little accident, it only serves to stir up some feelings you may or may not have already been harboring.

A smile creeps onto your face, leaning closer to him, “You came in your pants just from me tickling you? I have to say, I feel honored.”

He slowly turns his face to meet your gaze. “W-what?”

You chuckle darkly in response, “That’s so cute. I didn’t know you were so sensitive.” If somehow possible, his cheeks blush an even darker color and you can feel him stiffen against your thigh.

Looking down between both of your bodies you take note of him hardening, something that must’ve gone unnoticed by you earlier. “Do you like that, Jisung?” You tease and his cock twitches in response. A breathy laugh passes through your lips, “You do.”

“Fuck, this is so embarrassing. I- I’m so sorry. I-“ He babbles on nervously before being cut off by you softly pressing a finger to his pretty lips.

“Hey, I told you I’m honored, yeah?” Your hands trail down his shirt, reaching the bottom and playing with the hem. “I think you should let me see how sensitive you really are. How’s that sound?” You propose.

He can hardly process everything going on and god, he’s just so desperate for your attention and touch he’d probably say yes to anything right about now. His head nods faster than he can think, gaze never leaving you as you smirk and lift his shirt up.

Pulling his shirt up, you bring the hem of it in front of his mouth. “Hold onto this for me?” You ask, receiving no less than an excited, much too quick nod from Jisung. Once he has the cloth between his teeth you begin feeling his body. Fingers tracing over his abs. “You’re so beautiful, Jisung. I can’t believe this is the first I’m seeing of it.”

He whimpers in response, his preoccupied mouth not allowing him to get much out. Not that he’d likely be able to anyways when his head is as hazy as it currently is.

You lean forward, head lowering over his chest as you look up at him before licking a stripe over his nipple. To say he’s sensitive is an understatement, his back arching at the small motion. Your tongue continues to lick over it, dropping the hold on his wrists and bringing your hand up to the other nipple to graze over it lightly, nails barely running over it.

He’s breathing so hard, practically panting as the sweetest whimpers fall from him. His fists are balled up tightly as he keeps them placed above his head. “You’re being so good for me, Sungie.” You purr before switching sides, mirroring your actions so your tongue gives equal attention to him. His cock twitches as you keep up your work. “Are you close, Jisung?” You ask, looking up to find him lost in the pleasure of it all with his head having fallen back against the bed, writhing beneath you. He manages to let out a weak “Mhm.”

It takes everything in you to not rock against his cock, desperate to feel the way it glides against your now soaked folds. You remind yourself this is a little test to see how sensitive it is, to see if he can come without friction, and it doesn’t take long to get your answers to that test as with just a few more licks and touches you feel him spasming, hips bucking up to reach nothing in return.

“I knew you could do it. That’s it, baby. Keep going, I’ve got you.” You speak against the shell of his ear now, soothing him through his second orgasm. By this point he’s absolutely wrecked his sweatpants and you can feel it even through your additional layer of clothing. You move off of his body, giving him some space to breathe after everything, but it doesn’t stop you from leaning down to lick over the wet spot of cum at the front of his sweats.

He looks down breathlessly, letting out a low, “Fuuuck.” You crawl up next to him, placing a hand softly on his arm.

“You feel okay?” You ask softly, a contrast to your previous demeanor just minutes prior.

“That was… that was unreal. I’ve never experienced anything like that before. Like, seriously.” He responds. “I definitely didn’t expect any of that when I walked in here.” He laughs.

“Yeah, me neither. I don’t know what came over me. Im sorry if that was too much.” You tell him.

“No, no, no. Not at all I just… I don’t want this to be a one time thing.” He admits.

There’s a sparkle in your eyes when he says this, his response somehow being better than you could’ve ever expected. “Really? I mean, yes. Of course. I would love that.” You ramble, clearly excited at the prospect. “I’m not done playing with you anyways.” You playfully state, and Jisung knows he’s in for a fun night.

#han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #Han Jisung x reader smut #sub han jisung #stray kids x reader #stray kids x reader smut #stray kids smut

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bronx-bomber87 · 23 hours ago

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Hello amazing fandom and happy Wednesday :) Episode 3 off we go! So grateful to have my happy place back. To be able to do these first impressions. I love not knowing a single thing about this season really. Rachel being in the recap blew my mind. Like what?! Love the shock. Had zero clue she would be here this season. Let us get started.

7x03 Out of Pocket

We hit the ground running in this ep. Grey yelling at them to come to his office in front of the entire bullpen.... Lucy calling him the troublemaker we all know he is this year. heh Also he is one perpetually now thanks to you my dear. Brought out his playful side long ago. It’s been here to stay ever since. Love Tim replying it’s a fair assumption. Not fighting her on this even a little bit. It's fantastic.

Will say I love how Tim naturally jumps on the grenade for her. Old habits die hard. Or never die at all…Lucy isn’t here for it though. Still a little bristly (rightfully so.) Also I'm sure she thinks it isn't a good look that he does. Commenting she doesn’t need him to protect her. Grey is bemused by them and their flirty fight, but does have to rein them in because of course he does. LOL You can tell he’s happy they’re acting this way even if it's driving him nuts.

Tim jumps into apology mode. Not wanting to ruffle her feathers. It truly is a hair trigger response from him to shield her. He can't help it. Like breathing for him. Grey basically calling them out for their work flirt. ‘A weird itch they need to scratch’ heh I mean it is. Their version of foreplay let's be honest. Lucy seems quite embarrassed he has pointed this out.

Tim on the other hand....He is cheeky af in this dressing down of their's. ‘We didn’t put any money on it.’ With a big ole smirk on his face haha Oh my lord. No shame in the game for him. Who are you and what have you done with Tim Bradford?

Lucy is taking it seriously af. Where this goob to her left is cracking jokes and what not. Her face kills me. Like what are you doing? Do love seeing him be lighter and not so serious about everything. It’s delightful. Therapy is doing him wonders truly. Now Lucy isn’t as airy as he is but that’s ok ha

Tim you so cute apologizing and saying why he tried to protect her. Needing to defend why he did as such. That, if they were going to go down, should be him, since it was his idea after all. Lucy is much kinder outside of Grey’s office though. Saying she said yes to the whole thing. So it's just as much on her as it is him.

Do adore her jumping right back into it with wanting to finish this out. That they still have time. This way they can check each others methods. Lucy continuing the work flirt of their's. I am down. The smiles on these goobers I cannot. Lucy’s face when he walks away. My goodness you still love that man. *happy sigh * I love these idiots.

Rachel out of nowhere. Oh my lord. Do love these recalls to previous season's we're getting this year I have to say. Characters and all. Seems like they’ve kept in touch. First thing I thought was wondering about that. I had questions running through my head at her return. Like she must know Lucy dated Tim? Does she know how madly in love she was with him? (and still is...)

Sucks N.Y. chewed her up and spit her back out. Man it’s a trip to see her. From another life. Truly. S2 feels like it was eons ago. They were much different people back then. When Rachel said she hadn't contacted Lucy in 6 months....Knew that meant she didn't know of the emotional horror our girl went through.

Thus begins the digging up of wounds that have yet to heal. Detective exam and Tim..... Oooh boy. The two pillars that nearly broke her. Kinda glad for her asking about it in a way. I wanna see where Lucy truly is emotionally right now. Been having a feeling it's not great under the surface.

The fact Lucy is now trauma dumping shows she isn’t ok. Which of course she isn’t. She had a trio of trauma last season. Between detective, Tim and Tamara. The way Lucy says Tim broke up with her…. Ugh my heart. A wound that hasn’t healed for this fandom either. It's not going till until this is hashed out and reconciled.

‘Screw him. He’s an idiot right?’ *sigh* I mean a good response for Rachel though. It's what you say to a friend going through that. ‘It’s all for the best…’ Is it though? Oh my girl still wanna hug you and make you better. That has not gone away since 6x07.

Tim comes up not expecting his past to be standing there. He pulls out the Sanford Smile we haven't seen in awhile lol The one where he's clearly uncomfortable and his smile isn't reaching his eyes. You can tell he is confused and slightly unsettled. I mean they didn't end on the best terms after she started her life in N.Y. Now here she is in the station next to his girl. What a trip for him.

‘She ghosted me.' 'Yeah that’s her thing…’ We never did see what happened there. She was all in for long distance then she was gone just like that. Tim did a good job pretending he was happy to see her. The Oscar goes to you my love.

Poor Ridley is shaking in his boots. On edge waiting for a 'Tim test.' But he was prepped by Lucy in a way Tim wasn't expecting. Seth has his 'I’ve been shot answer.' right away. Too quickly really. Tim is sus af. Grilling him if Lucy warned him? It does explain why he was looking out the windshield as they were driving LOL Tim asking what else she told him?

Oh my word she recited chunks of her trauma training to Seth. Majority of her s1 ones at that. Except for the flour bomb. I’m dying. These call backs to s1-s2 are making me giddy to no end I have to say. She really dug in their archive to tell him about Wrigley. I'm laughing so hard. Tim is shaking his head so hard and I’m cackling. Playing dirty Lucy….’Ok I just have to get more inventive.’ He is not pleased LMAO Legit undermined him.

Texas instantly putting his foot in his mouth with Lucy. I was wondering if he thought be easier with Lucy. Or he thought he could charm his way into her being lenient. But he has never met Lucy Chen....Learns quickly how much that was not going to fly with her. I love Lucy putting him in his place immediately about 'darlin.’ That isn't going to stand for even a second with her. She makes sure he knows that.

The banter is PRIMO when Tim arrives. We get to see protective Tim arrive on scene again with Miles. I love it. Lucy doesn’t stop him this time. Knowing Texas needs it from both barrels if it's going to stick with him. But mainly I just love Tim immediately not having it with that shit for her. Any bravado remaining is squashed by Tim calling Penn 'Darlin' hehe

This is a mini moment that made very happy. You defend her Tim! Immediately protected his girl from Grey’s clutches about the rookies not listening. Gimme. I'll take this all damn day. That innate reaction to protect her is deeply ingrained in this man. I love it so much I could cry. Lucy once again not stopping him. Appreciative he has her back in this moment. The little things is how we inch our way back.

Poor Lucy so worried this will be another black mark against her career. Regardless of who won this is a loss for them. Adore Tim being positive with her. Saying as long as they don’t fire them, they have a chance to turn them around. Make them into good cops if given that chance. Love this. Look at Tim being the positive one. Only for his girl. Lucy looking to him for answers makes me happy. Asking what their chances really are? ‘Slim to none….’ Heh helpful babe real helpful.

It is nice to see Lucy catch up with Rachel. This is an ally we forgot she had. One that was far away in N.Y. So it's nice they get to reconnect. Not only that but be very mature about it. Especially about Tim. Celina getting a history lesson on the side is a hilarious bonus. lmao Frigging adored Rachel's 'Well yeah.' Like of course we would be friends still. Emotional maturity. Love to see it.

I love love love Rachel seeing Tim and Lucy were the better match. Rather than her and Tim. Doesn't even hesitate to bring that up in their convo. I said it many times in my s2 reviews. Forever grateful for the path she set Tim on. She was his first post divorce relationship. A Lucy 2.0 to get him ready for his soulmate.

Rachel is the fandom when she makes her comment about their break up. Trust me Rachel none of us expected the emotional devastation that was last year….it’s been 9 months and I’m still not over it tbh. Idk I'll be over it until they have reconciled. It's the gut punch none of us have really recovered from.

Lucy just breaking my heart all over again. Saying she made all these moves for them to be together. Only for it to blow up in her face. *sad sigh* You sure did.... Our boy has A LOT to make up for. That it taught her to just focus on her career. I mean I truly hoping that is the case this season for her. That we can some true clarity for her career. Nothing I want more (other than a reunion.) ‘No more messy station romances.' Sure sure mmhmm....

Those boys are LUCKY. They are trending online in a positive way or their asses would be grass. The defiance cannot be overlooked. I love Tim/Lucy standing next to each other as they back Grey. The little things I love so much. Forever in awe of insane amount of physical chemistry they have just standing next to one another.

The lack of personal space never a thing with them. It makes me happy to see it. Post 6x06 the physical distance could be FELT between them in every scene till 6x09. Felt like the Grand Canyon for awhile. So this is so nice to behold. Once again the little things that make me so happy. We're on the slow road to healing.

I wanna get into this scene and what it represents to me. I did always wonder what happened between them. After 2x20 she just fell off never to be heard from again. So this was nice to get. Tim can claim he didn't need closure but he did. This scene is an olive branch from Rachel to Tim. Just like when Isabel came back in 5x20. The return meant to be a healing one. Nothing more. Took guts for her to do this. If she wants back in Lucy's life Tim comes with that. Breakup or not. She knows this. Best to smooth this over before she can rebuild her life.

Do I find Rachel a threat? No. No I don't. Why you ask? Because this isn't 13th grade. These are grown ass adults. This isn't a H.S. or Teen drama. Just because she came back doesn't mean trouble for Chenford. Hell the woman even said Lucy was the better fit for him. One of the biggest complaints I saw last season was Lucy's support system. Someone who was in it has returned. This is a wonderful thing for Lucy. A win she so deserves. I just wanted to be the voice of reason in case anyone the fandom was worried with this scene.

That man could not be more in love with Lucy Chen if he tried. And vice versa. He is kind and courteous with Rachel. To me, mainly because post-therapy, Tim can see when someone is trying to make amends. Hell it's what he's trying to achieve everyday with Lucy. Also like to note it's not his mega watt Lucy smile. That is reserved only for his girl. But it is a 'second chance' smile. Like Lucy stated earlier in the ep. A second chance is a clean slate. This is just that if she is going to be in Lucy's life again. I'll be intrigued if she makes another appearance or not. We shall see. Every ep we are one step closer to them healing some more. I cannot wait to see what 7x04 brings.

As always. Thank you to the amazing readers I have. Your likes, comments and reblogs mean everything to me. Truly comment away I love it. As long as its respectful I adore chatting about this season as we go along. Shall see you all next week :)

~~~~

Side notes

Tim being the cold open. And breaking through Nolan's security system. I cackled so hard. Then is a sexy beast leaning against his bookcase. Pops a soda. Never wanted to be a can so much before.... ‘That’ll owe you two more Lakers tickets.’ LOL I love this man.

Poor Wes is gonna implode. Every time he hears that detectives name he shudders. Losing it a little more each time.

With the ladies saying let nature take its course with Jason. HA I'm with them. But of course Nolan being a boring boy scout won’t do it that way.

Anyone else think it’s weird Nolan doesn’t wear his wedding ring? I would hate if Tim didn’t wear his after their wedding.

Also going without backup after this guy. Like this man hasn’t learned at all from his mistakes. Do you not remember s2 you dope? Balian's reunion was as lackluster as they are. Welcome back Bailey. I did not miss you madam sorry ha

#Caitlin's First Impressions #chenford #The rookie 7x03 #7x03 Out Of Pocket #the rookie #tim bradford #lucy chen #tim x lucy #lucy x tim #s7 #tim bradford x lucy chen

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a-student-out-of-time · 2 days ago

Text

More Real Talk

Hey everyone. Mod Bubbles here.

I'm not gonna beat around the bush here: you all know what's going on, you've all heard about it, you don't need me to tell you about it. You've heard about it and you're gonna hear about it a lot these next four years.

I don't want to talk about that. Instead, I wanna address something else that, on a personal level, I believe is a lot more serious but a lot easier to grapple with.

You wanna know what I believe is the biggest problem we're dealing with these days? You can point to a lot of things, but at the core, they all have the same root to them.

Hopelessness.

Yeah, a DR blog talking about hope, how crazy is that?

But in all seriousness, it's at the core of every argument, every political discussion, every post I see made about not just the near future, but the long term as well. It's always the same points about neo-fascism, climate change, wars, cyberpunk dystopias, and global extinction. Very few people today seem to have any faith that the world can be better.

And I can't say I blame them. I was there too once, when I was a teenager. I lived in constant fear of the future, worried about what it means for me, and I'd get trapped in doomscrolling cycles. I'd lay awake at night and cry my eyes out. Yet I'm still here, on the cusp of turning 30, and I'm at a better point in my life than I've ever been.

Fear and desperation are ultimately useful, but they can be self-destructive. They can prevent you from seeing the truth and make you ironically vulnerable to the ones you should be most afraid of.

Why do people join cults or militias or vote for bad politicians? Are they all just stupid or evil? Sure, some may be, but most are just desperate, afraid and don't understand how the world really works. They need a helping hand with deprogramming what they were told.

Here's the facts:

We've already beaten climate change's worst predictions and the changes we've made can be reversed.

Plastic pollution in the oceans is being cleaned up.

Conservation success stories just keep coming.

More people are living better lives nowadays, with lower rates of child morality, starvation, crime, preventable diseases, even bullying rates have declined.

The Green Energy Revolution is here and nothing is going to stop it.

New advancements in materials science are on the way and will revolutionize everything from construction to manufacturing to space exploration.

I say all this because the ultimate source of hope is knowledge. Yes, you can open yourself up to a lot of dark avenues when you start learning about the world, but you'll also learn how much good there is out there being done.

This isn't a distraction, it's how I help people understand that the world can always be better and that just one person being in power will not change that.

Now, I know what you may say to that. I've seen posts about how the internet is going to be censored, that propaganda spread everywhere, that there'll be concentration camps, the constitution will be ripped up, etc.

And to that, I have to be honest: I've already heard it all before.

The things you're worried about today? I was worried about them in 2009 during the Great Recession. People worried about them in 2005 when Bush was re-elected, and the concerns there also included terrorism. Do we even still talk about Al-Qaeda? Not really!

And misinformation in this age has always been a problem, especially on the big sites. These are old problems brought to the forefront, and it's always been important to learn the skills to spot them.

More importantly, all this assumes the administration would actually be able to implement any of their promises. Every administration does that and few of the truly big ones about change have happened, especially because said promises ran counter to reality within the system.

I'm not trying to downplay any concerns about the situation, I promise. It's okay to be sad, scared, and concerned about peoples' safety. It's okay to cry if you need to. What you should not do is give up just because of all this.

I'm going to sound very harsh for a moment, but I need to say it: by being doomerist and defeatist, you're part of the problem. You not only stop helping, you run the risk of discouraging other people from trying because you believe it's pointless. When you succumb to pessimistic nihilism, you create a self-fulfilling prophecy that only rewards those who benefit from your inaction or your death.

Don't do that to people. Don't do that to yourself.

The world gets better when you first believe it can be better. How do you do that?

Well, I can't speak for everyone, but here's some suggestions that I'm sticking to:

Live daily life. Get up, eat, stay hydrated, take your medication, bathe, dress comfortably, listen to music, watch a movie, clean your home, play a game, hang out with friends, just do things that make you happy. As you should always do.

Stop looking at doomer posts. It literally does not help with anything and they are not credible sources of information just because they're cynical.

Do not let go of your ambitions. Always have a dream or a goal in mind, no matter what it is, and always aim for it. It's never stupid, it's never too late, it's something you aspire to and that's really awesome.

Stop looking for enemies. There are more important things to devote your time to than arguing over inane bullshit on the internet. That's been true since the start.

Be kind to people. Let go of whatever anger and resentment you may have for people, try to make new friends, and recognize when you can help someone else in need. Sometimes it's as simple as letting them know you care.

Be kind to yourself. You are not a failure, you're not a burden, you're not a lost cause, you can always improve as long as you're alive.

Remove toxicity from your life. Cut out bad influences and replace them with better things. If you have to leave a toxic environment, you can work on doing so.

Always learn new things. It's really fun to end the day with a new piece of knowledge you didn't have the day before.

Let yourself feel. Are you angry? Sad? Scared? Worried? Let yourself feel it, and then you can move on. Don't bury an emotion or let it stagnate.

Learn to recognize bad faith posts/misinformation. This is a critical skill to possess and one you need to always pass on to others. Not everyone who posts it is evil, sometimes all they need is a simple correction on a matter and the situation will be resolved.

Clown on Evil. Whenever people want you to fear them or take them seriously, you mock them, make memes about them, treat them as a joke and defuse whatever power they try to have.

Be true to yourself. Above all, don't let the next 4 years turn you into something you're not.

I say all this as someone who's been around longer than a lot of people who follow me: your future is not empty. I wished I'd done years ago everything I'm doing now, but I've decided I'd rather do them than spend the rest of my life lamenting and wondering what might've been.

You can spend years convincing yourself there is no future, and then the future arrives and you have no idea what to do anymore.

Change- actual change- starts from below and works its way up. And no matter how much life beats you down, no matter what's on TV or what the future may hold, you can always choose to do something about it.

You can always choose to be kind to yourself and to others. You can always choose to believe. And that's where you can start.

#mod talks #a student out of time #real talk

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hopefullyyoursmcg · 17 hours ago

Text

Routine part ii

When you were younger, you weren’t exactly normal. It wasn't anything serious, but unlike most kids who would cry, yell, or giggle, you always had a serious face. You could smile, but that didn’t happen often. Your mother grew concerned for you as you went from toddler to child. So when you were 5, she took you to the doctor, as it would only be a few more months until it was time for you to go to elementary school, and worried about how the other children would treat you.

The doctor didn’t give a clear answer, “there was nothing physically wrong with the child.”

All the Doctor could say was “This child is just quiet for her age.”

Your mother left that office more confused than ever. However, she was going to do her best to raise this small child to the best of her abilities.

Something your mother loved was routine. She loved organization and making sure things fall into place. She did so in work and at home.

Your mother wasn't strict or anything. She even gave you a little whiteboard with the week on it and some magnets that had different symbols to create a cute timetable. Your mother wasn't strict with you, she didn’t want to force you to follow it but she placed it in the living room, and showed you how it worked.

That was the first time your mother had seen you smile since you were a baby. The two of you ‘played’ with the whiteboard, making sure everything was in its place for the week.

You missed that whiteboard.

As you grew up in the manor, Alfred gave you a weekly planner book for your 10th birthday. You used that planner every single day. Planning your day was calming.

It felt like your mom was just over your shoulder helping you.

As time passed by, your planners began to become an obsession, not only was it able to calm you down by reminding you of your mother. You felt like you were in control. You knew everything that was happening and was about to happen.

If things didn’t go to plan, you would fall into a dark place. You would furiously write changes to your plan on your desk for hours on end. The longest you had ever gone was the rest of the evening without a drink of water or food.

As you got older, the planners continued in your life but the obsession wasn't as strong as it was when you were younger but you still followed your planner and you could always follow your life plan.

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

Life didn’t go as planned.

The old you would have hide yourself in your room trying to fix this problem. Unfortunately, as a mother to a 10-month-old wasn’t an option.

During your pregnancy, you were still able to work at your new job. It helped that your manager(Alice Rogers) was a single mother of two kids, so she was able to have some sort of sympathy for you. There was also the fact, that after training, it was evident that you were an efficient receptionist at the front desk. You did every task that you were given and never complained, you were quiet yet blunt, meaning you were able to befriend the older ladies who worked beside you at the reception.

There were of course a few hick ups here and there.

There was the fact that during the first trimester, every single time you smelled your co-worker's very strong perfume you would need to excuse yourself to throw up your breakfast. When you stood up to go on your lunch break you nearly fainted from being so dizzy.

The pregnancy hormones weren’t the only annoying thing. Despite befriending your fellow receptionists, there were still the other departments that weren’t so friendly. When once going up to your friend who was in the HR department, you passed a group of young ladies you heard one of them whispered “That’s the whore I told you about”. Which resulted in you somehow making the girl cry by saying something along the lines of “Oh you must be the woman that’s getting fired with no pay.”

Besides work, you were able to get a decent apartment. If you could call it that. You wanted something practical and safe. You found that Haven Heights Apartments was one of the few places available that was on the safer side of Gotham, so you took your chance at it immediately. Use a good amount of what was left of your trust fund to live there to ensure you were comfortable and were at least somewhere to shield your child.

With help from your friends, you were able to make that empty apartment into a home. With a small nursery waiting for your new baby boy.

Your friends offered to through a gender reveal party but you wanted to just have a small gathering with a little cake in the middle. Despite that, your friends being the amazing people they were, spoiled you with presents. You remember the dramatic gasps they let out when you smiled at the pile they made for you and started an immediate photo shoot to “capture the historical event.”

Speaking of historical events, when the cake was cut, Samantha (the friend in HR) yelled FOOD FIGHT, and the blue cake was spattered everywhere imaginable. You still find traces of cake crumbs and icing to this day despite making your friends do all the cleaning.

The name part was easy for you, you decided to pick the name Eddie, named after an amazing side character from your favorite novel.

What wasn't easy was the actual day you had to give birth. Thankfully when your due date approached your friends and you had all agreed that one would stay with you and help with getting you to the hospital, so getting to the hospital went smoothly. What didn’t go smoothly was giving birth to Eddie.

It felt like days had passed, all you remember was everything was blurry and painful and the next moment, you heard crying.

You couldn’t see at first due to tears and being a bit dizzy.

But then you saw a blurry figure walk towards you and carefully put a small bundle of soft blankets in your arms.

As your version cleared, you saw him. Your baby boy.

“congratulations mama, your baby is healthy and strong” The nurse said gently

The small baby in your arms wiggled around, letting out small sounds.

You couldn’t even describe what you were feeling. But you loved this baby, you loved him with your entire being. You were going to do your best to protect him no matter what.

“Hi Eddie…...

I'm your mum.”

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

Shout out to @cheust for letting me name the baby after one of her characters!

#yandere batfamily x reader #Yandere DC #Yandere barfam

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septemberpale · 1 day ago

Text

How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, Rafe Cameron. A Series, Part One.

An ambitious advice columnist tries pushing the boundaries of her craft with a career defining experiment, leading her to cross paths with an equally cunning advertising executive. The lines between professional challenge and personal desire blur in a high stakes game of cat and mouse, where their unexpected chemistry threatens to derail everything they've meticulously planned . . .

STATUS, ONGOING !

NAV. Part One. Part Two. Part Three.

One, The Pitch.

Heels click-clacking against the pavement, you weave through the congested streets filled with other people making their morning commutes. Your favorite handbag slung over your left shoulder and a rough draft of an article on the ongoing Israeli-Palestinian conflict tucked beneath your right arm.

You were absolutely exhausted from working all night on the article, hoping it will be good enough for the upcoming issue of Composure, the weekly magazine you write for.

As you step into the bustling office, you can’t help but relax just a tad at the familiarity of it all. The scent of fresh coffee, the sound of ringing phones and clattering keyboards creating a familiar yet welcome chaos.

JJ’s shadow falls across your desk, that insufferable grin of his spreading before he even speaks.

“Rough night?” He hands you a steaming cup of coffee⎯ one cream, one sugar⎯ just how you like it, a peace offering disguised as mockery.

You don’t look up, fingers frantically typing as you refine the ramblings of yesterday’s writing session. “Define ‘rough’.”

“Bloodshot eyes, takeout coffee cups scattered about, and an article that looks like it’s been through a war zone?” He leans against your cubicle, deliberately invading your personal space.

You let out a sharp exhale that borders on laughter. “Cute. Are you here to critique my work or waste my time?”

“Oh, I’m definitely here to waste your time,” JJ drawls, reaching for the draft you made last night.

You snatch the paper back reflexively. “Touch my work again, and I’ll use your sports column as a coaster.”

A smirk plays across his lips. “Let me guess⎯another heavy-hitting piece on international conflict?”

You roll your eyes. “Not everyone writes about grown men in short shorts chasing balls around a field.”

“Touché,” He drums his fingers against your desk in a rhythm designed to irritate you.

“Mind if I take a look?” JJ asks, his tone a blend of challenge and genuine interest.

You come to a halt, fingers frozen mid-keystroke. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on,” he whines, that familiar challenge threading through his voice, “I might actually have some useful feedback.”

You hesitate, weighing his offer. JJ, despite his annoying qualities, was undeniably good at his job. And you are bone-tired.

“Fine,” you concede, sliding your laptop over to him. “But any funny business, and you’re dead, Maybank.”

JJ lifts his hands in mock surrender.

After a moment of concentrated reading, he looks up. “It's brilliant stuff. Really moving.” His tone is unexpectedly serious. “But it’ll never make it into Composure.”

Reality comes crashing down. You sigh, the sound laced with frustration. “God, I busted my ass in grad school just to be reduced to churning out vapid clickbait. I want to write about things that matter⎯like the environment and foreign affairs; I want to make a difference.”

JJ’s expression softens. “Keep busting your ass, angel. You're gonna get there.”

“I know,” you reply. “It’s just. . . frustrating.”

“Has Pope come in yet?” you ask, trying to change the subject.

“Don’t mention other men in my presence,” JJ chides, retreating to his cubicle across from yours. “And no, he hasn’t. Probably moping around his apartment waiting for his date to call him back.”

You grab your bag and make a beeline for the door. “Where are you going?” JJ calls.

“To drag Pope’s sorry ass back to work.” You throw your bag over your shoulder. “Can’t have him losing his job before our staff meeting in thirty minutes.”

“I’ll cover for you guys as long as I can.” JJ offers.

“You're the best, J!” You flash him a grateful smile as you push open the doors.

“I knew you loved me,” he yells out.

You flip him the bird as you disappear into the bustling street.

At Pope’s apartment, you knock on the door. “Morning, sunshine. Time to get up.”

You make your way inside, taking in the mess of clothes and empty ice cream tubs strewn about. Tears threaten to spill from Pope’s eyes.

“I think I’m just gonna go back to bed,” he replies.

“No! Get up! I’m not gonna let you lose your job on top of everything else. Our meeting is in less than half an hour.”

He sniffles, wiping his salty tears with the back of his hand.

“Pope, seriously? You guys dated for a week.” Your tone entangled with compassion and frustration.

“It was the best week of my life,” he responds, eyes distant as they glaze over.

You grab a pillow from his bed and smack him upside the head with it. “Snap out of it.” you say firmly. “She’s not worth it man. I love you, but this has gone on way too long. You can’t live like this.” You toss a pair of slacks and a polo at him. “We’ve got a meeting in twenty.”

You catch a cab back to work, hoping not to miss the meeting. JJ greets you two with coffees⎯one for each of you.

“I don’t really wanna talk about it” Pope mutters, his resolve crumbling.

You and JJ give each other a knowing look; the dam is about to break.

“Why does this always happen to me?”

Bingo.

“Maybe because you fall harder than a skydiver without a parachute?” JJ chastises, trying to lighten the mood as the three of you hurry down the hallway.

Pope shoots him a glare. “Not helping, man.”

“Look,” you interject, “relationships are complicated. It's not your fault things didn’t work out.”

Pope sighs, running his fingers through his coarse curls. “Easy for you to say. You could set fire to someone’s car and they’d thank you for the warmth.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You arch an eyebrow.

“It means you’ve got this… I don't know. . . charm. People can't help but gravitate towards you. Me? I’m like human repellent.”

JJ snorts. “More like a walking romantic disaster. Remember that one girl who stalked you because her psychic told her you were soulmates?”

“Oh, god. Pope groans; a reluctant smile toys at his lips, cracking through his misery. “Don't remind me.”

As you approach the conference room, the office buzz grows louder. Pope takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders.

“Ready to face the firing squad?” JJ quips as he reaches for the door handle.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Pope retorts; his earlier melancholy gives way to determination. “After you.”

“Coward,” JJ banters, grinning.

“Strategic retreater,” Pope corrects lightly.

You shake your head. “Are you two done?”

You slip past your colleagues into the room; the sharp sound of your boss clearing his throat, slices through the ambience like a hot knife through butter⎯signaling the start of the meeting.

“Alright! Who’s going to go first?" he asks.

John B immediately launches into a rehearsed speech about his contribution for this week. “I’ve started writing about the Royal Merchant.” Everyone turns to look at him. “It’s a legendary shipwreck that sank in the 17th century; there’s been a lot of buzz about it online recently so it might make for a good story.”

He hands your boss his draft: “Excellent! Get to it then.”

“Yes, sir.” John B quickly grabs his belongings and rushes out of the room.

Piercing eyes scan the room as your boss settles on you despite all the willing you’ve done in the back of your head.

“What’s next for the advice column?” He leans forward.

You lick your lips in hesitation, staring at the draft sitting on your lap. “Well. . . I’ve been working on something that’s . . . kinda different.”

Displeasure paints his face at your words but he allows you to continue.

“It’s a political piece⎯”

“No!” He immediately cuts you off. “You were hired to write an advice column; I’ve got plenty of guys who can write politics! Leave the real work to the big boys!”

“But if you’d just listen⎯”

“Look!” He cuts you off again. “I’m the editor of this paper! Whatever I say goes! Stick to what you’re good at: makeup, social trends, and fashion. We’ve got the rest! Understood?”

“Yeah.” You deflate and look back down at your draft.

“Glad we’re on the same page.” He snaps; eyes locking onto Pope’s face. “Heyward! What have you got for me?”

“Sorry. . . I wasn’t feeling very well this week⎯”

“He got dumped.” JJ corrects; your boss’s face quickly switches from displeasure to feigned concern.

“Oh man! Pope!” He leans forward taking hold of Pope’s hand, sympathy dripping with every word he speaks. “What a hellish ordeal for you.”

Pope begins to sniffle for added effect. “Yeah. . . so I haven’t really had much time to write.”

Your boss perks up: “So write about the split.”

“What? I can’t use my personal life for a story!” Pope gasps in indignation.

Your boss smiles apologetically. “I understand completely.” He turns to face the rest of the room. “Who will use Pope’s personal life for a story?”

Multiple hands shoot up much to Pope’s dismay. . . “Sir! With all do respect none of them have any business mucking around in my private life! I refuse ⎯”

“I’ll do it,” You suddenly exclaim; all eyes turn toward you.

“What?” Pope looks at you mortified.

“I.. I’ll sort of do it.” You correct yourself quickly. “You will be my inspiration.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Your boss’s eyes narrow in on you once again for what feels like the thousandth time today.

“Yeah,” You swallow hard, hands waving in Pope’s vicinity. “Look at Pope! He’s a great guy right? An amazing guy even! But. . . he has a problem hanging onto relationships and doesn’t really know what he’s doing wrong⎯like many of our readers for the advice column.”

An idea comes rushing to you as you try to prevent Pope's personal life from becoming front cover news in the next edition. “So. . . I was thinking that I could start dating a guy and drive him away. But, only using the classic mistakes that most people like Pope make all the time. I’ll keep a journal of it; it’ll be sort of like a ‘How To’ but in reverse!”

Your boss blinks at you for another moment before flashing you a toothy smile. “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days! Yes! Go!” He exclaims, shooing you out of the room excitedly.

“Thank you,” Pope mouths silently as you leave.

When the meeting concludes, you’re waiting outside for JJ and Pope, trying to process the mess you’ve just gotten yourself into. You three hurriedly walk away from the conference room, footsteps echoing against the sterile office floor, a feeble attempt to escape your boss who manages to make conversation with your colleagues as you head to the break room for more coffee. Midstride, you’re halted by a women⎯ blonde hair and olive green dress cutting a sharp silhouette at the entrance of Composure.

“Oh here comes my 10 o’clock!” Your boss smiles brightly.

“It’s good to see you!” The woman greets, pressing a kiss to your boss's cheek.

“Gentlemen and lady meet Sarah Cameron from Kook Advertising⎯we’re gonna cook up some tie-ins for the fall!” He adds in greeting, introducing each of you.

When he stops beside you Sarah’s face lights up with recognition. “I’ve seen your column! What are you working on now?

You clear your throat ready to answer her question but are cut off by your boss. “How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days! She’s going to start dating a guy and then drive him away. Isn’t it brilliant?” He stiffles laughter.

Sarah’s eyes glint mischievously in your direction. “Sounds needlessly vicious! Who’s the lucky guy?”

“I haven't found him yet,” You answer, hands sweeping through your hair, an attempt at calming your nerves.

“Well off ya go!” Your boss shoes impatiently. “That column isn't going to write itself!”

“Nice meeting you.” You wave goodbye to Sarah before continuing toward the break room, with JJ and Pope in tow.

“So all we need to do is find the guy. . .” Pope adds trying to still your nerves.

“Easier said than done.”

NOTES. on a scale from 1-10 how obvious is it that i've never seen obx before? i just love drew and all his other work and wanted to write a fic for one of his characters, we'll see where this goes . . .

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gh0stly-mp3 · 1 day ago

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take care of you

hyoma chigiri x physiotherapist gn!reader

synopsis: cute moment between you and chigiri in one of his physiotherapy sessions

tags: fluff, physiotherapy session, romantic implied relationship, can be seen as platonic, gentle reader

warnings: mention of his knee injury

The atmosphere in the Blue Lock physiotherapy center was calm. The match had ended, and Chigiri was feeling the effects of another intense game. It had been a tense day, but as always, he had given his all. How could it be any different? He loved soccer, and the effort he put into every moment showed that.

However, after the last match, he felt something odd in his right knee. It wasn’t something new—he’d been cautious ever since the serious injury he had suffered — the discomfort was unmistakable. When the doctor warned that another injury could mean the end of his career, Chigiri knew he couldn’t ignore any sign of pain.

As he entered the physiotherapy room, he saw you in the distance, organizing some equipment. Your smile was the kind of thing that always calmed him and brought him a constant comfort. And as his physiotherapist, you always made shure he felt safe around you.

"Oh, you’re here, Chigiri. How’s your knee, darling?" - You asked softly, your attentive eyes focused, but without rushing, as you always did.

He sat down on the examination table, looking away for a moment before answering, trying to hide any trace of concern.

"It’s nothing serious, just a little discomfort." - He forced a smile, trying to sound calm, but you knew better. You knew how careful he was about his health, and that this “discomfort” was not something he would take lightly.

You approached and began to examine his knee. Your hands were gentle, yet firm, as if you knew exactly where to apply pressure to relieve any tension or pain. Chigiri watched you, his eyes calm, but there was something vulnerable in the way he kept his lips sealed, perhaps from not wanting to show weakness.

"I know it’s not nothing, Chigiri. You wouldn’t hide this from me." - You said calmly, sitting next to him, your eyes meeting his. - "What happened?".

He let out a soft sigh, finally allowing himself to relax and tell you everything.

"I... felt something weird while running. I’m not sure if it was the quick movement, but I'm afraid the knee couldn’t handle the impact." - He bit his lower lip, as if blaming himself for the situation. - "I don’t want this to get worse. I can’t... I don’t want to stop playing."

You touched his knee carefully, feeling the tension there. The fear was evident in his eyes, but Chigiri didn’t say a word, preferring to remain silent while you worked to alleviate the pain.

"I know how much soccer means to you, Chigiri. But you need to take care of your body, or... You know." - Your voice was soft but firm. "I’m here, and I’ll help you, okay?"

He didn’t respond immediately, but his eyes softened slightly, as if he was grateful without having to say a word. It was comforting to see him trust you this way, even though he was usually so composed.

"I think you’re the only person who could convince me to rest for a bit." - He said quietly, his eyes softening as you continued to work.

You smiled, the gesture light, as you always did around him. It was reassuring to know he trusted you like this, especially considering how reserved he usually was.

The treatment continued as you applied an analgesic cream, massaging the affected area with slow, calm movements. Chigiri seemed more relaxed with each passing second. The two of you stayed quiet for a while, only the sound of his breathing and your careful touch breaking the silence.

When you finished, Chigiri reclined on the table, relieved, but still wearing that thoughtful look on his face.

"I think I’ll be fine." - He finally said, a small smile forming, his usual calm smile, but somehow different. It was as if, for a moment, he had allowed himself to just be... vulnerable, and believe himself.

You stayed by his side, grabbing a cloth to clean your hands.

"You will be, yes. And I’ll take care of you to make sure it stays that way." - Your smile was genuine. You’d always take care of him, not just as his physiotherapist, but in a way that went beyond that.

Chigiri looked at you, as if he had something to say but hesitated. He, who was so good with words on the field, seemed to lose his confidence when it came to speaking about feelings. But in the end, he simply gave you that gentle smile, the one only you saw, the one that said more than a thousand words ever could.

"Thank you. For everything. Not just for the knee." - He murmured, his eyes soft with tenderness that he usually didn’t show.

You didn’t need more words. Your heart already knew what he was trying to say.

"I take care of you. Always." - You replied softly, and then, on a sudden impulse, you placed a light kiss on his forehead. Something so natural, yet so full of meaning.

Chigiri looked surprised but then smiled genuinely, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"I think it’s been a while since you’ve been taking care of me." - He said, a small, shy smile taking over his face.

At that moment, the silence between the two of you wasn’t uncomfortable. On the contrary, it was a silence full of mutual understanding. The treatment was done, but what remained between the two of you was something deeper than anyone could see.

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sahrii · 2 days ago

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That’s Not True; Sugawara Koushi x fem!reader

synopsis; they’re friends, but they both want more.

wc; 666

warnings; idk slight hurt to comfort, being stood up, mutual pinning ig idk

@phantasmaebg

It was embarrassing.

Night has fallen, draping a twilight blanket over the horizon, specks of stars feebly shining above tired figures.

She was standing, a sense of awkwardness and embarrassment perpetuating inside of her, after having waited for this date too long only for him to never show up. And it wasn’t close to where she lived, she had to use the train to get there.

But now, she couldn’t be bothered. She couldn’t be bothered to walk all the way back to the train station. To deal with sticky bodies against her own, given that it’s rush hour and everyone is getting off work. She couldn’t be bothered, so she did the second best thing she could be bothered to do, and that was to call sugawara to come and pick her up.

And so he did, no questions was asked, no complaints where muttered, just a sweet and simple “I gotcha,” rolling from his sweet, sweet tongue into the speaker of the phone, and she was grateful for that.

A hush fell over them during the ride. She was staring out the window as threads of rain slid off its glass, her eyes trailing each racing droplet. She noticed how he was holding the steering wheel with one hand, moving it in an almost lazy manner. Her cheeks flushed.

The cars finally stopped as Sugawara reverse parked it. She looked around, trying to peak out of the humid, blurred windows.

“okay…I don’t have the best sense of direction but I’m pretty sure that’s not my apartment,” she said, brows furrowing in confusion.

“Yeah, I never said I am going to take you home,” he replied, snickering slightly.

“What?”

“I’m your date for today,”

Her lips slightly parted. She didn’t know what to say.

“Quit the jokes, suga,” she muttered, staring outside the window yet again, this time her chin was propped in her hand.

He was probably missing with me, she thought. We can’t just do this, she thought.

“Why would it be a joke?” he asked, voice coming out a bit more serious.

“Because we’ve been friends for ages?”

“So?” he questioned

“You can’t just take me out like that,”

“Hm, let’s see. What were you doing yesterday?” he asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“Lying on your bed?” she turned her head to look at him, slightly confused.

“Lying on my bed with me beside you,” he corrected.

“Your point?” she knew his point. Whatever they had was more than friends. She knew this much, but nothing else, or rather, she didn’t want to know anything else because it scares her.

Not seeing him for a day scares her. If they were to ever date and breakup, she’s scared that she’ll never get over him. She knows she’ll never get over him, after all, finding a guy like suga is probably as rare as spotting a four leaf clover amongst a field of blooming flowers.

“My point is, instead of dating shitty men, you can just date me,” he breathed.

“We’re better off as friends,”

“You know that’s not true,”

“But it is! If we ever broke up I’ll be damned,” she almost yelled, she didn’t mean to. But he just smiled in return.

“Is that what you’re worried about?”

“Yes it is,” she turned her head back to the window, hands feeling sweaty and clammy despite the cold weather.

“That’s got an easy solution. We’ll never break up,”

She snapped her head again. “Not very realistic,”

“It is,” he argued

“Just try, I promise you nothing bad will happen to us,”

She took a second to ponder over that thought. They’ve been friends for years. They’ve been like this for years. She’d like more, though. Maybe waking up and tasting his lips, or spending endless nights on end talking, his arms wrapped around her. She wanted that.

“Okay,” she breathed. There it was again, his signature smile, lopsided but she wouldn’t mind kissing it.

“Okay,” he returned, his breath slightly hitching.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu!!#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! y/n #sugawara x you #suga x y/n #sugawara x reader #suga x reader #suga x you #haikyuu sugawara #suga haikyuu #sugawara kōshi #hq sugawara #sugawara koushi #s

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tinydefector · 2 days ago

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Behind the Scenes - DC

Tim Drake x Male Reader Series.

Soo..... I might have decided to dip my toes into writing for DC, I'm still going to be writing Transformers Fics too but I really wanted to make this mainly for myself, it make turn into an x Oc but we will wait and see, the first part is mainly just the Prologue and it's Tim centred without a reader introduced yet.

_____________

Word count: 3.4K

Warnings: nothing.

Masterlist

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Tim had been staring at the screen now for hours, fingers dancing across the keyboard as he went, he had fallen down the rabbit hole of another case. Honestly he wouldn't have cursed at himself getting so invested in another Riddler case, but in truth he loved the challenge, cross examining every little detail from the scenes, the Clues. In some ways dealing with Riddler was like a break for him, the Riddler despised him, he figured things out way too quickly for Nigma's liking and ruined His plans half the time, and Timothy revealed it.

Tim wasn't interested in the riddles, no he was far more interested in the smaller details such as the barrel with a grain meal logo on it. It was so out of place, new compared to most of the other stuff that had been at the scene. It was possible he had somewhat narrowed down where Riddler was, and it was all due to the Rogue not being thorough enough. “Red Robin To Nightwing” he calls into his ear piece after switching channels.

“Hear you loud and clear RR” Dick had called back. “I believe Riddler is in Blüdhaven, at BGM Grains factory or shipment warehouse from what i've been able to gather, he's starting to get sloppy” Tim remarked while taking a mouthful of his coffee only for his nose to scrunch up slightly at how cold it had gotten.

“Hmm I'll check it out, Penguin’s also been making his rounds around Haven, I'll drop in and see if I can spot Riddler might finally catch him after the hell he's being causing B” Dick remarks, there's a slight static sound along with the whooshing of wind. “Keep me updated, I'm going to do some more digging, Oracle might even be able to tap me into the camera” he stretches slightly, his joints popping and cracking with a sigh before he focuses back in.

“you're game, Weren't you meant to be in bed three hours ago, you have an appointment tomorrow at WE with manufacturing and Marketing” Nightwing remarked with a hint of amusement in his voice. Tim rolls his eyes before drinking more of his coffee, at this rate he would just make sure to have two caffeine capsules, some dayquil and most likely coffee before he leaves in the morning if Alfred doesn't insist on him having Tea instead.

“ Hmmm, says the man who had Chief Delmore Redhorn up his ass, Must be fun having your boss pile you with paperwork and put you on mall duty” Tim retorts effortlessly, he was used to playing this game with Dick, the back and forth jabs over work.

“Careful RR, B might decide to demote you if you keep showing up to WE looking like a zombie” he teases back which earns a scoff from Tim "that's what make-up is for Big bird, to cover up the baggage and Trauma That this family carries” he snarks with a roll of his eyes. There was next to nothing that Fitcover, some eye drops, caffeine and Cologne couldn't mask.

“Whatever you say T. But I'm serious if you don't log off, I'll be calling Oracle and tell her to disable your connection. It's 3:47am go to bed” Dick says sternly, which earns a huff From Tim. “Ah don't, I'll have Alfred down there to drag you up, it's log off time” Dick continued, and Tim knows he won't win this argument, he was going on nearly 53 hours with the minimum of an hour nap in random spots.

“Fine, Fine I'm logging off and heading up. Keep me posted on Riddler!” He huffs as he begins logging out of his account on the main computer. He sits there for a moment in the large seat contemplating moving before finally working up the energy to trudge his way upstairs.

Tim makes it to his room or at least the one he stayed at when he was at the Manor, it hadn't changed much, just had a few less things in there than it used to. He grabs his antibiotics, promethazine, taking them with a large mouthful of water from the bottle he kept on the bedside table. he Kicks off most of his clothes deciding it was too hard to bother with anything more than his boxers, grabbing his compression gloves and fighting with them for a moment before he lays back in bed, tiredly staring up at the ceiling. It doesn't take long for the promethazine to make him drowsy on top of his fatigue and he is out shortly after.

The next morning, Tim awoke feeling somewhat refreshed, his mind clearer than it had been the day before, less exhaustion and tension in his frame. The combination of the antibiotics and promethazine had granted him a night free of the usual nightmares and dreams that often plagued his mind.

He rolled out of bed slowly, his muscles protesting slightly from the lingering aches and pains. A hot shower helped to work out the kinks and tension in his body, the steaming water cascading over his scars and battle-worn flesh. He stood there for a long while just letting the heat seep into his skin, eyes closed as he enjoyed the momentary relief the hot water gave.

As he stepped out of the shower, Tim caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. The dark circles under his eyes were still noticeable, but not as pronounced as they had been the day before. After drying off and getting dressed in his usual white button up and black slacks, He applied a thin layer of concealer under his eyes, carefully blending it into his skin to hide the evidence of his exhaustion.

Next, he smoothed on a foundation, the creamy substance helping to even out his complexion and conceal the faint, silvery scars that lined his cheeks - mementos from Joker. The scars were barely noticeable to most, but to Tim, they stood out more than anything, they had healed well only leaving very thin silvery lines, but they were still a reminder of what happened when he was 13.

Dressed in a crisp button-down shirt and tailored slacks, Tim looked every inch the successful businessman. Only those who knew him well could sense the weariness that still lingered beneath the polished exterior.

Tim entered the dining room, his footsteps soft against the hardwood floors. The smell of freshly brewed tea and toast wafted through the air. Bruce sat at the head of the table, newspaper in one hand, the other loosely holding a cup of tea. His breakfast plate half-empty was pushed slightly to the side. Behind the swinging door to the kitchen, the faint hum of a classical tune played as Alfred moved around, orchestrating the morning like a conductor with his symphony.

Tim offered Bruce a nod as he passed the table. He looked tired despite the dark circles under his eyes being concealed. There's a faint sluggishness in his movements. Without a word, he headed straight for the kitchen, clearly aiming for the coffee pot. As soon as Tim stepped into the kitchen, Alfred's sharp yet warm voice cut through the music.

"Master Timothy, don't even think about it. Coffee is hardly what you need right now. Have you slept at all?" He inquiries not even turning around to look at the younger man

Tim paused mid-reach for the coffee pot, his hand hovering above the handle. He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. "Good morning to you too, Alfred."

Alfred turned, crossing his arms with the kind of disapproving look only he could master, the disappointed grandfather stare. The soft music continued in the background as he gestured toward the kettle. "Tea, Master Tim. Far more civilized and significantly better for someone who looks like they've just returned from the grave."

Tim hesitated but relented. "Fine. Tea it is." Alfred huffed but began preparing the tea while muttering under his breath about "young men and their lack of proper self-care."

Tim returned to the dining room, plopping into the chair across from Bruce. The latter set down the newspaper, his piercing gaze settling on Tim. "You haven't been sleeping."

Tim blinked, he was well aware he hadn't been sleeping, he had been doing reserch into the Head of medical manufacturing as this was now the third time this month, that Luicus had brought him to attention over it, and Tim had done his own digging, and noe Marketing and been trying their best to sway Tim into letting them raise the price of certain medical items. And that was excluding everything that had been happening while he moonlights as Red Robin.

His tone is defensive. "I'm fine. Just had a lot to do." Bruce raised an eyebrow, the kind of look that said he wasn't buying it. He leaned back, resting his hands on the arms of his chair. "You can't run on fumes, Not in the long run. You know that."

Tim looked away, running a hand through his hair. Trying not to mess it up after styling it into the business look he normally did for board meeting and anything that involved him having to be at any WE sites. "I will catch up on sleep once everything with patrols, WE settle down. Riddler has been causing issues in Blüdhaven and Luicus and myself are suspicious of the head of drug manufacturing, so I've been doing digging"

Bruce doesn't say anything but just continues to watch Tim. Before he gets the chance to say anything Alfred appears, setting a cup of tea in front of Tim with a faintly pointed expression.

"So, about the meeting today. WE Operations and Marketing. What’s the agenda?" Tim straightened a little, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten as he switched into work mode. "The marketing team wants to pitch a new campaign to raise prices of medication such as Insulin, amoxycillin, Levothyroxine.” there is a slight sneer to Tim's voice over it. He hated dealing with the pharmaceutical marketing Team, not to mention the head of the manufacturing. They have been trying to sway him for months now over increasing prices for life saving medication. And WE had always prided itself on being affordable for everyone.

“ I think we need to replace management and look at other options for that Team, or replacements, they have been the main ones causing so much strife within the company. The Steel operations will be presenting their quarterly report, but from what Lucius told me, there aren't any major surprises. I actually enjoy talking with Mr Brill, his Teams deserve a raise, He ask about you often, wants to know if your coming in for another one of their Forklift workshops " There's a small smirk on Tim's face, he knew all about those workshops Bruce used to attend before he had taken over as CEO.

Bruce frowned slightly, swirling the tea in his cup, as he takes a sip. "You know I don't involve myself much in the day-to-day anymore." But there's a small smile on Bruce's face remembering the shock of so many people when he used to show up to those workshops.

The conversation had shifted to lighter topics, Bruce still nursing his tea while Tim sat back in his chair finishing up his own tea, trying to muster some energy for the day ahead, as he still eyes the kitchen wondering if he could get away with coffee before he left for his meeting, even if he couldn't he would either get one while at WE from the breakroom or afterwards sneak away long enough to get one from the local cafe he frequent.

Alfred moved about the dining room with his usual quiet grace, clearing away Bruce’s breakfast plate and straightening the table. As Alfred returned from the kitchen, he paused by Tim’s chair, his hands resting lightly on the back of it. His tone was casual, but there was a hint of purpose behind his words. "Master Timothy, if I might trouble you for a moment..."

Tim glanced up, raising a brow. "Uh-oh. What did I do now?"

Alfred gave him a long-suffering look before continuing. "Nothing, yet. But I was wondering if you might accompany me later today after your meetings. There’s a small, family-owned nursery I frequent for the plants that brighten up this dreary old Manor. They’ve just started their spring stock, and I’d like to see what they have this year."

Tim blinked, surprised, it wasn't what he had expected to hear from the old butler. "You’re asking me to go plant shopping with you?" Alfred gave a faint huff, though there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Indeed, I am. Surely you can spare a moment from your busy schedule to assist an old man with something as simple as choosing a few ferns and perhaps a philodendron or two?"

Tim leaned back, fingers linked together as he processed everything, "Couldn’t you just call them? Have them send over a list or something? Sounds like less hassle." Alfred’s expression turned pointed, though his tone remained polite, he was making it very clear it Wasn't up for debate.

"Of course I could, Master Timothy. But where is the joy in that? I’d much rather go in person. There’s a charm to it, you see. And, if I may be so bold, I think an outing might do you some good. Perhaps some fresh air and a bit of greenery might help shake off the exhaustion you so stubbornly insist on ignoring."

Bruce chuckled softly from his seat, glancing between the two. Tim shot Bruce a mock glare before turning back to Alfred, this felt like a trap, a trap to keep him busy and his focus away from work and cases. His lips press into a thin line as he stares down Alfred, the older man fixes him with his own look.

"Fine, fine. I’ll go. On one condition, we stop at my favourite Cafe and I get my ristretto, or Iced Lungo " He finally relented knowing he wasn't getting out of this, but he sure wasn't going to not put up some resistance over it.

Alfred gave a small, satisfied smile, as though he’d just won a minor battle. "That can be arranged, Master Tim. Your company will suffice. Though, if I may offer a suggestion, do try not to have too much Caffeine."

Tim rolled his eyes, though there was a faint grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, yeah. That's my offer, coffee for company." Bruce set down his tea, his tone light but teasing. "Don’t let him talk you into carrying all the pots. He’s been known to overdo it."

Alfred turned to Bruce with a feigned look of innocence. "I assure you, Master Bruce, I wouldn’t dream of it." Bruce gave him a knowing look, but Tim waved it off, standing up and stretching. glancing at the clock on the wall, his faint grin fading as the reality of his packed schedule loomed over him again. He drained the rest of his tea, setting the cup down with a soft clink against the saucer.

“Alright,” he said, pushing his chair back and standing with a stretch. “I’ve got to head out. If I get to my office early enough, I might actually have a chance to breathe before the swarm descends.” he said, pushing the chair back into the table.

Bruce raised an eyebrow over the rim of his teacup, his expression somewhere between amused and concerned. “You mean you’re running off to hide before they corner you,” Bruce said knowingly. Tim hummed, grabbing his blazer off the back of the chair. “Something like that. I like to call it ‘strategic retreat.’”

Alfred gave him a pointed look as he passed by. “Strategic retreat or not, Master Timothy, I do hope you’ll consider pacing yourself today. Another cup of tea wouldn’t go amiss, either.” Tim paused in the doorway, glancing back with a wry grin. “Tea’s nice, Alfred, but I’m going to need something a little stronger if I’m going to survive the marketing team today.”

Alfred’s brow furrowed as he turned to face him fully, his disapproval evident. “Master Tim, I do hope you’re not referring to–” “Triple shot espresso,” Tim cut in, his grin widening. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it myself. Wouldn’t want to drag anyone else into my caffeine dependency.”

Bruce let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. He knew Tim drank an awful amount of coffee but some days it really put others to shame “You’re going to crash hard later if you keep running like this.” Tim shrugged as he slipped his arms into the blazer and adjusted the cuffs.“Yeah, probably. But that’s a problem for later. Right now, I’ve got to deal with pharmaceutical marketing trying to convince me that price-gouging insulin is somehow good for the company.” His voice turned sharp at the end, a flicker of irritation breaking through his usual sarcasm.

Alfred followed him toward the hallway, speaking as he moved. “If they press you too much, Master Timothy, do remember that you have the authority to shut them down completely.” Tim glanced back over his shoulder, his hand resting on the doorframe. “Oh, don’t worry, Alfred. I’ve been shutting them down for months. They’re just persistent. Like termites with suits.”

Alfred gave him a small, approving nod. “As long as you don’t let them wear you down. And do keep in mind our little outing to the nursery later. Perhaps a few moments among greenery will help restore your... equilibrium.”

Tim snorted softly. “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” He turned and headed down the hallway, his footsteps quick and purposeful on the polished floors. As he passed by the large windows overlooking the grounds, he caught a glimpse of the sunlight streaming through the trees, but he didn’t stop to take it in. His mind was already racing ahead—mentally preparing for the battle waiting for him at Wayne Enterprises.

By the time he reached the garage, Tim was already planning his first move of the day: getting to his office before anyone else had the chance to ambush him. He climbed into his car, the engine purring to life as he pulled out of the long driveway, the manor shrinking behind him in the rearview mirror.

The drive gave him a moment of quiet, though his fingers drummed impatiently on the steering wheel as he navigated the early morning traffic. He barely noticed the scenery passing by—his thoughts were too focused on the meetings ahead. The pharmaceutical marketing team, in particular, was already grating on his nerves, and he hadn’t even seen them yet.

By the time he reached the Wayne Enterprises building, the city was fully awake. Tim parked in his reserved spot, grabbed his bag, and made his way inside, weaving through the bustling crowd of employees already heading to their stations. The elevator ride to his floor was mercifully empty, giving him a rare moment to himself. When the doors slid open, he stepped out into the sleek, modern office space that housed his team.

Tim moved quickly, nodding at a few early risers but keeping his pace brisk. He wasn’t ready to be stopped yet. His office door clicked shut behind him, and he let out a small sigh of relief. For now, at least, he was safe. Dropping his bag onto the chair, he crossed the room to the small coffee bar tucked into the corner. The espresso machine gleamed under the overhead lights, and Tim wasted no time getting to work.

“Triple shot,” he muttered to himself as he loaded the machine. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the room, and for a brief moment, it was almost enough to make him forget the chaos waiting just outside his door.

Almost.

Cup in hand, Tim moved to his desk and took a long sip, the bitter jolt of caffeine already doing its job. He set the cup down and powered on his computer, his inbox lighting up with a flood of unread emails. “Alright,” he muttered, cracking his knuckles, the ache slowly dissipating Into pins and needles. “Let’s see what today’s disaster looks like.”

The quiet hum of his office was soon accompanied by the rhythmic tapping of his keyboard as Tim dove into his work, bracing himself for the inevitable knock on his door that would signal the start of the day’s battles. For now, though, he savored the calm before the storm, his triple shot espresso keeping him upright as he prepared to face whatever came next.

__________

#dc comics #dc universe #tim drake #tim drake x reader #tim drake x male reader #tim drake x you #batman #Batfam #dc tim drake #red robin #red robin x reader #male reader

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lynnieverse · 2 days ago

Text

undertow // ripples

✰ third chapter!

✰ 2.7k words

✰ chapter song -> bubbly by colbie callait

✰ tags: morally grey, one-sided rivalry, mystery, mutual pining, tension, redemption

✰ a/n: Thanks for all the love so far! Enjoy!

Lennox was huddled over her desk, combing through all the notes and outlines from the site visit. She tugged on her hair in frustration, not because of the project—no, that was fine—but the man behind the project.

Rafe was…difficult, but she had to admit his ideas were good. He was serious about this, and that was something she hadn’t been prepared for. It was her first project, and she expected something much simpler. This was a lot more pressure.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Everything okay in here?” her dad asked, leaning against the doorframe.

“Yeah, everything’s great, just working out some kinks for budgeting and stuff.” She leaned back in her chair, giving him her full attention.

“You’re doing great, Len, I know you’ve got this.”

“You haven’t even seen anything yet.”

“I don’t have to, I know you won’t let this family down.” He left her with that, not helping her anxiety at all. She let her eyes close and let out a deep breath.

It was fine, everything was fine.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

She met with Rafe the next day at the site, wanting to discuss and finalize the timeline for the project.

That’s when shit hit the fan.

“You are so fucking irritating! This is ridiculous Rafe!” Lennox snapped, waving her clipboard wildly. “You want this project done by next summer, but don’t have the basic infrastructure in place. The permits aren’t filed, the environmental reports are nonexistent, and the marina’s foundation isn’t even structurally sound!”

Rafe leaned casually against the side of his Jeep, a smug smirk on his face that only pissed her off more.

“That’s what you’re here for, Princess, to figure it all out. You’re the logistics person, right? So…logistically handle it.” He inflected his voice a bit at the end, trying to be cute. Instead it made her eye twitch.

“Logistics don’t just magically solve themselves! There’s actual laws we have to follow! If we rush into this it’ll be over before it even begins!” Rafe pushed off the car and stepped closer, his voice sharpening.

“It’s not rushing, Lennox, it’s moving efficiently. You’re just too scared to take a risk, like always.” His blue eyes blazed, daring her to challenge him.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means. You’ve always been a little rule follower, terrified to do anything except what Daddy tells you. Too scared then, too scared now.” He was taunting her, and she knew it, but damn it if it didn’t work. Lennox jabbed a finger into his chest, jaw clenching in anger.

“You know nothing about me. It’s not fear, Rafe, it’s called being realistic. You’re so desperate to prove you can do something on your own that you’re blind to how much work this actually takes. I’ve got the degree, and I’ve got more experience than you!” His smirk dropped and the tension crackled between them. All that could be heard was their labored breaths as they glared at each other.

The construction crew had stopped to watch them, but she didn’t care. She was too angry, too fired up at his little entitled attitude.

“You don’t get it,” he said finally, tone laced with frustration. “This is my chance to prove I’m not just a screw up.” His face was scrunched up, like he was fighting to keep his emotions from showing.

“And you think the way to do that is by cutting corners and taking the easy way? If this fails, Rafe, it’s not just your name on the line. My reputation is tied to this too.” His eyes narrowed.

“So that’s what this is about? Your perfect princess reputation?”

“No. It’s about doing things the right way. Don’t be like your dad, be someone better.” This made his jaw clench and he looked away, clearly not enjoying that comparison.

“Fine. Do what you have to do.” He stepped out of her space, and hopped in his car, speeding away without another word. Lennox knew she’d won, but something didn’t sit right in her chest.

There was that damn pity again. She probably shouldn’t have thrown his dad in his face, but knew she was right. Cutting corners and being an asshole was what got Ward killed in the first place, and if he wanted to separate himself from that he had to be different. She had to tell him that.

Still, she didn’t like the regret that echoed afterwards.

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

Topper broke into her room later that night to invite her to yet another party.

“Topper! Door plus locked equals don’t come in!” He just shrugged and flopped beside her on her bed.

“So you’re coming right?” he said, poking her shoulder relentlessly.

“Where is it?”

“Kelce’s hosting this time, and no Rafe I swear.” He made a large “X” on his chest, pleading at her with his eyes. She dropped her head to the bed and groaned.

“Fine, I’ll go.” Topper whooped and ran away, shouting something about getting shitfaced. She shook her head at her little brother, but couldn’t blame him. She wanted to get shitfaced too, especially after the day she’d had.

She quickly got to work on her makeup, hair, and outfit, opting for some cutoff shorts and a blue tank top this time. Strapping on her sandals, she grabbed her phone and skipped downstairs. Her parents were both at work, but she wrote a note anyway, just in case they ended up crashing there.

Topper joined her a minute later, ushering her to the car so they could get going.

“Come on! We’re already late.” Lennox rolled her eyes but listened, turning up the air conditioning and leaning her head back. When they arrived at Kelce's house, the party was in full swing. Lights were flickering, music was thumping, and there were so many people they spilled out onto the lawn.

Lennox followed Topper up the driveway, her pulse racing in excitement. She loved parties once she got to them, convincing her to go was the hard part. As she stepped in the door she felt the energy pulsating around her. The faint smell of beer and sweat clogged up the dance floor. She needed a drink.

“Come on Len, loosen up!” Topper called over his shoulder, already weaving through the crowd towards the makeshift bar in the kitchen. Lennox opted to hang back, letting her eyes drift over the crowd of familiar faces. Kelce spotted her from across the room, sauntering over with a solo cup in his hand.

“Lennox Thornton,” he drawled with a grin. “Long time no see! Topper drag you out?” She smiled politely and chuckled a bit.

“Yeah, but I like a good party every now and again.”

“Well, welcome back to Figure Eight chaos; grab a drink, make yourself at home.”

“Thanks, I might,” she nodded once as he disappeared back into the crowd. She found herself drifting around from group to group, joking around with people she hadn’t seen in years. She ended up with a drink in her hand from Topper’s friend Grace, a nice looking girl with red hair and glasses.

She felt the rush of being a Thornton for the first time in a long time—the status, the stares…it was intoxicating, but also exhausting. Eventually she did end up alone, silently nursing her fourth, or maybe it was fifth, drink. She let the music and chatter wash over her, completely embracing the buzz.

Topper had disappeared once again, no doubt in the middle of some drinking game she didn’t understand, but she didn’t mind. One thing she learned being away at college was how to be content on the sidelines, and making your own fun. She stumbled into the kitchen, and braced against the counter. Maybe she could just chill there a minute.

As she was idly scrolling on her phone, she felt a presence behind her.

“Lost in thought or just bored out of your mind?” a smooth voice broke through the noise. She glanced up, startled, and found herself face-to-face with someone she didn’t recognize. He was tall, with sun-streaked blonde hair and a charming, easygoing grin. His basic outfit gave away his Kook-status, but he seemed to lack the pretentiousness she usually felt from them.

“Maybe both,” she raised an eyebrow. “You know how it is.” He chuckled and leaned against the counter next to her.

“Yeah, I do. All these parties are the same…can get brain numbing after a while.”

“Exactly,” she laughed. “And you are?”

“Elliot,” he said, offering his hand. “And you’re Topper’s sister, right? Lennox?”

“Guilty,” she smiled, shaking his hand. “I take it, you know my brother?”

“Everyone here knows Top,” he gestured to the crowd. “Hard to miss the guy yelling about tequila shots at two in the morning.” She snorted.

“Yeah, sounds about right.”

“What brings you out tonight? I haven’t seen you around much.”

“I just moved back home from New York; I graduated college this past semester.”

“Oh nice! I go to Charleston—senior—and I’m home for the summer.”

“Do you like it there?”

“Yeah, it’s great. No girls as pretty as you, though,” he nudged her with his elbow. Lennox felt a small flush rise to her cheeks and broke eye contact, taking a sip of her drink.

“I’m sure,” she managed.

“It’s true, plus you’re the most entertaining thing at this party.”

“Oh so that’s what this is? Entertainment?” she teased.

“Not just entertainment,” he leaned closer, “I’d like to think I’m better company than the guy currently puking in the bushes.” Lennox laughed, the sound catching her off guard.

“I’ll give you that,” she raised her cup at him.

“See? I’m already winning,” Elliot said, his grin widening.

They settled into an easy conversation, the awkwardness of being strangers quickly fading. He had a natural charm that didn’t feel forced, and she found herself genuinely enjoying his company. They talked about the weirdness of coming back home, her family business, and even little things like surfing.

As the night wore on she never left Elliot’s side, not even when some girls came over to recruit her for karaoke. She hadn’t felt this relaxed in weeks, and the way he looked at her—like she was the only person in the room—was impossible to ignore.

“You know,” his voice dropped low, like it was some sort of secret. “I’m really glad I came tonight.” His face was hovering close to hers, and she felt his breath fan against her cheek.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said, reaching up to tuck a flyaway hair behind her ear.

“Careful, Elliot, you’re starting to sound like a flirt.”

“Starting to?” he joked. “I must be doing something wrong if you’re just now noticing.” She laughed slightly, eyes dropping to his lips. There was something disarming about him, a quiet confidence. She felt the tension melt off her shoulders the longer she spoke to him.

Their faces inched closer and closer until their noses were touching. Lennox decided to mess with him a little, pulling back and looking him in the eye.

“Hi,” she smiled sweetly. He snickered, shaking his head.

“Tease.” She smiled and bit her lip, waiting for his next move while playing with the bottom of his shirt.

“Hey, you want to get out of here? Maybe take a walk?” She raised her eyebrows in surprise, definitely not expecting that.

“You’re asking me to leave a party with you after knowing me for all of…what? An hour?”

“Technically, it’s been two,” he said, checking an imaginary watch. Lennox rolled her eyes playfully. “And yeah, I am. Unless you’re down to hear Kelce butcher another Taylor Swift song.” She glanced towards the living room, where a bunch of boys were already screeching into a microphone.

“You know what? Why not? Lead the way.”

⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

He led her outside, the cool night air hitting her skin immediately. The noise from the party faded behind them as they strolled down the private dock Elliot found in the back. The moon reflected off the water, and the gentle sound of waves lapping against the wooden posts made the night feel quieter.

“Better?” Elliot asked her.

“Much. I needed a breather.”

“Me too,” he leaned against the railing of the dock, looking out over the water. “Figure Eight is great, but it always feels like everyone’s trying too hard to prove something, you know?” Lennox nodded, moving to stand beside him. Her elbows rested against the wooden railing, wind blowing her hair out of her face.

“I know exactly what you mean.”

Elliot turned his head, studying her. “You don’t seem like that though, you’re different.”

Lennox chuckled softly, gazing at the dark water below. “Different how?”

“I don’t know…you just seem indifferent to it all–the image, the competition. You’re just you, unapologetically.” Lennox looked at him curiously, feeling as if he was picking apart her soul.

“That’s one way to put it.”

“Am I wrong?” he pressed, catching her eye and making her smile.

“No, not exactly,” she admitted. “I just don’t see the point, you know? The fake smiles and blanket of superiority some of these people wear…it’s not real. None of it is.” Elliot was completely focused on her, looking deep in thought. “Outside of this place, nobody cares. You’re just like everyone else. I think that’s what I liked about the city, the anonymity.” She pursed her lips, shrugging her shoulders.

“It’s like a game, and if you don’t play you’re invisible,” Elliot murmured, a far-away look in his eyes.

“Maybe being invisible wouldn’t be the worst thing,” she mused.

He turned to face her fully, resting his side against the railing. “Not for someone like you. People notice you even if you aren’t trying.”

She raised her eyebrows, a small smile dancing on her lips. “Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

“I guess so, but don’t let it go to your head.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” she teased, nudging him slightly with her shoulder. For a moment they stood in companionable silence, just listening to the sounds of nature around them.

Lennox shivered, and Elliot immediately shed his button down, leaving him in a tight white t-shirt. He turned Lennox to face him, wrapped the shirt around her, and put her arms through the sleeves. Lennox blushed, watching him with wonder. He smiled at her, gripping the fabric, and using it to pull her into him.

“Hi,” he teased, the corner of his mouth curling up.

“Hi,” she smiled. Then he kissed her.

Their lips met gently, as if they were asking each other’s permission. Lennox’s hand travelled to his neck, playing with the ends of his hair as she deepened the kiss. Both Elliot’s hands were on her cheeks, thumbs moving back and forth slowly.

She moaned as he bit her lip, earning her a groan from him. Eventually they broke apart, breathless.

“Wow,” he said, staring down at her in awe. She laughed, looking down, unsure of how to respond. It was a good kiss, not Earth-shattering, but very good. Her phone lit up before she could.

“It’s my brother,” she said, unlocking it immediately. “He says he’s ready to go and the Uber’s almost here.” She found herself disappointed, not wanting the night to end just yet.

“Well, we better get you back then.” Elliot offered his hand and she took it, letting them swing back and forth as they made their way back down the dock.

As they approached the house, Elliot stopped.

“So, any chance I could take you out to dinner sometime?” She hesitated, but pulled her phone out of her pocket, opening up a new contact.

“Here, put your number in.” Elliot chuckled, typing in his information and sending himself a text before handing it back.

“Done. I’m holding you to that dinner, Thornton.”

“Good luck, I’m not an easy person to keep up with,” she smiled.

“Me neither,” he shot back. She left him standing there, hands in his pockets with a dopey look on his face.

Topper met her outside, slightly swaying, but overall not too bad.

“Have fun, Top?” she laughed.

“Oh yeah, Len, great. You?”

“It was alright,” she smiled, keeping Elliot to herself.

#fanfic #rafe fic #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #outerbanks rafe #obx fanfiction #obx #obx fic #obx season 4 #outer banks #writing #mystery #fanfiction

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