#↤ maybe that’s just to me. maybe i’m projecting. oh well.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Moth to the Flame Pt. 1 | Dr. Crane x Reader

summary: Dr. Jonathan Crane isn't the only 'crazy' in Gotham City and he's about to meet his match. When confronted with an unpleasant secret from his past, he's skeptical to trust the strange young woman who calls herself Victoria Vale, the rightful heiress to Arkham Asylum (and maybe his downfall).

warnings: none yet but oh baby just you wait...

A/N: I really enjoy using the original DC comic lore so if you've been following me for a while, you'll recognize the backstories in this but I've tried to make a completely different plot line.

bury a friend- Billie Eilish 🎶

i 

“Professor Crane?” You poke your head into the small office, the heavy door slightly crushing your body against the doorframe. The raven-haired man looks up from a stack of research papers on his desk and cocks an unwelcome eyebrow. 

“Come back during my office hours.” He waves you off with his free hand as he grades a paper with a red pen. His voice has the strange ability to both attract you and put you ill-at-ease at the same time. You step inside and let the heavy door close behind you. You don’t need to lock it, yet. Dr. Crane looks you up and down quickly, his lip curled in displeasure and disinterest. 

“It’s a quick question, I promise sir,” you lie through your teeth, your dimples showing beneath your full cheeks as you smile. Dr. Crane looks up at you from over the rim of his harsh rectangular frames. He stares at you for a moment, his blue eyes shifting as he thinks, then finally he sighs and sits back in his desk chair. 

“What’s your name?” He removes his glasses and wipes the lenses clean with the corner of his suit jacket. He puts them back on as you sit down opposite of him, the desk between you. You glance down at the research papers, an action that is barely noticeable, if at all. 

“Victoria,” you answer and watch as Dr. Crane sighs again, impatiently. He rolls his eyes after a moment of silence and leans forward, gesturing his hand through the air to get you to continue. 

“What did you want to ask me?” He asks pointedly, losing whatever patience he had left. 

“Well we’ve spoken once before but it was just a brief exchange after one of your lectures,” you start and Crane watches you, barely paying attention now. His eyes seem to glaze over. “I asked you about the chemical components of fear. I’d like to hear your answer.” You say slowly, your hands playing with the edge of your seat. Dr. Crane barely cocks his head to the side before he clucks his tongue and looks away. 

“Did you not like the answer I gave you before?” 

“I’d forgotten what you said,” you explain as you wipe your clammy hands on your thighs. Dr. Crane threw his gaze back to you and raised an eyebrow, his expression one of obvious judgment. 

“Fear is an emotional response to a threat. It’s a basic evolutionary survival mechanism. The two primary parts of the brain that deal with fear are the amygdala and the hippocampus…” he answers dully, regurgitating what every psych student already knows. 

“Respectfully, sir,” you start, your voice steady, “I’m talking about the chemical components of fear, not the anatomical.” 

Dr. Crane regards you with an unreadable expression and then removes his glasses, sighing deeply again. He looks down at his glasses and then clears his throat. 

“You’re interested in fear chemistry, are you?” His tone is low and dry, like he’s mocking you. 

“Interested isn’t exactly the right word.” You answer with a small shrug. 

“What is the right word then, Victoria?” The way he says your name is sharp, like a door closing when you aren’t expecting it. He finally looks up at you again.

“I’m…” you search for the right word and then wet your lips, “... attracted to the concept of fear. It’s almost like a passion project that can’t be satisfied.” 

“Attracted to fear?” Crane repeats slowly, though his face doesn’t change. 

“Fear is one of the most fascinating phenomena in the creation of our universe, don’t you think?” 

Dr. Crane regards you differently, his breath shifting to a new rhythm. He wets his lips before he answers, his words measured. 

“One could debate that. I’d say pleasure or desire are more complex and powerful. Why fear?” 

“It’s the power of control over both the mind and body,” you respond without batting an eye. 

“Is it power that fascinates you, Victoria?” Crane asks softly, his hands clenching and relaxing in his lap. “One could say that pleasure can have a similar effect.” 

You allow yourself to blush, knowing it’ll look more believable if you do. “Well, it’s also about control…” 

Dr. Crane looks down at his hands again and thinks for a moment before responding, his voice still calm and even despite the shift in the room. 

“Do you find control attractive?” 

“Well, don’t you? Isn’t that why you became a teacher? The role gives you control over the development of new minds,” you smile sweetly. 

A rare smirk creeps across Crane’s face. He looks up at you and puts his glasses back on, the silver frames catching the light of the fluorescent bulbs. 

“You’re very perceptive,” he trails off and folds his hands on the desk in front of him. “Control is a powerful and attractive aspect of fear.” 

“And what’s so fascinating about fear specifically is that it is universal. Everyone has something that they’re afraid of… even you. And that’s what led me to ask myself this question: what are you, Professor Crane, afraid of? And for the life of me, I can’t figure it out.” Your eyes meet his with an obvious change in intentionality. Crane doesn’t react but feels himself leaning forward slightly like a snake rearing its head.

“I have a few guesses but it doesn’t matter for right now,” you continue when he doesn’t respond. “I read your old thesis about fear in mammalian species and it’s given me a lot of insight into my own mind.” 

“You’ve read my thesis?” Dr. Crane cocks his brow again and grips his hands together painfully. His body goes cold in warning like a lightning rod in a thunderstorm. “Most of my students barely attend class, much less decide to read my work.” 

This is the moment. You lean forward slightly, your hair falling off your shoulders, your eyes wide with excitement. 

“Oh, I never said I was a student, Professor Crane.” 

Dr. Crane freezes, his cold heart stuttering in his chest. He swallows slowly, trying to collect his thoughts before he responds. 

“Then who, may I ask, are you?” 

“I attended one of your lectures on radical treatment of phobias, which is where we spoke for the first time, and yes, I did sit in on one of your classes and left with additional reading materials and a better appreciation for your work. Your thesis however,” you tilt your head away in a show of shyness, “that’s available for any ‘crazy’ to find.”

“Mmm so, you’re just a ‘crazy’ then?” Crane hums cooly, “But that still doesn’t answer how you managed to get a copy of my thesis. It was pulled from circulation and all hard copies that I was aware of were destroyed.” 

“I’m good at getting answers and it helps when people find you attractive…” you shift in your seat, looking away. You can feel Crane’s eyes on you as he considers your answer. 

“And I guess that means you think that I find you attractive?” Crane guesses cooly, his eyes not leaving your face. You look back at him and take note of his guarded expression. Taking a breath, you fix your hair and meet his eyes. 

“I think you’re attracted to my mind.” 

“Who are you?” He asks again, leaning closer against his better judgment, like a moth to the flame. 

“I’m surprised you’re so unconcerned with my presence here, late at night when everyone else has gone home…” your posture is rigidly still as you speak. Dr. Crane smirks softly. 

“You are a very beautiful and intelligent young woman, and you don’t look very dangerous to me. Why would I be concerned?” 

“Because I think I know what you’re afraid of, doc.” You whisper and Crane freezes again, his heart jumping in his chest at your thinly veiled threat. Despite his feelings of unease, Crane smiles. He studies your lips as you speak and the way your body is angled towards him. 

“And what is it that I’m afraid of?” 

And just like that, it’s become a game. 

You smile a little, wanting him to feel safe and comfortable. He isn't intimidated by you yet and you want him to take you seriously. You lean closer, ducking your head in a whisper. 

“Being found out…” 

“About what, pet?” Crane asks pointedly, in a challenging tone. 

“Well…,” you sit back in your chair casually and tuck your hair behind your ears. “I’ve always had a natural inclination towards crime. That’s what made me become a detective. I thought what I wanted was to restore justice in Gotham, but I’ve quickly learned that justice is a jealous mistress and maybe my interest in crime has other motives… Are you following me so far?” 

Dr. Crane massages his mouth with his hand, listening intently. His lips are pursed beneath his fingers, his eyes void of any telling secrets. 

“So far,” he sighs. 

“You and I share something very important. It’s made us both who we are today. I just realized it before you did.” 

“Oh? And what do you think we share?” He furrows his brow skeptically. 

You stand and brush the hem of your dress over your thighs. As Crane watches you, you trail a finger over the books on your bookshelf, stopping at one and pretending to read one of the pages. 

“Thomas Wayne.” 

You toss the book in front of him on the desk. The book is open to the author bio. It’s a picture of your parents, the authors of a book on criminal psychology. The Arkhams.

"These are my parents. My name was Victoria Vale when I was born. Thomas Wayne murdered them and they put me in an orphanage. I didn’t know they were my parents until I started looking into the Waynes. And then I found you…” You keep your story short and to-the-point, not wanting to reveal too much. Dr. Crane looks between the photo and you, his brow furrowed as he works it all out in his head. Maybe for the first time in his life, he finds himself speechless. 

“So you really are crazy, aren’t you, pet?” He covers the shaky tone of his voice with a sneer. You ignore him and close the book, pushing it aside on the desk. 

“Tell me, what did Thomas Wayne do to you?” 

Dr. Crane looks up at you and scoffs. He removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and his thumb until the pressure between his eyes fades. 

“And why would I tell you that?” 

“Because I already know the answer, I’m just giving you the opportunity to say it.” You lean against the bookshelf and cross your arms over your chest. Dr. Crane regards you with suspicion and shakes his head. 

“You’re bluffing.” 

“Am I?” You bite back. You stare at each other, eyes narrowed and blood pumping. Dr. Crane finally sighs through his nose and puts his glasses back on. His eyes bore into you, punishing you for asking him this question. He holds your gaze with a mixture of pain, bitterness and cold rage. He speaks as if the words are acid in his mouth.

“Thomas Wayne destroyed my family and my childhood. He was a ruthless and cruel man and I’m glad he’s dead.” 

You stare back at him and notice the original tension between you changing, shifting as your power shifts. 

“Then we’re kindred spirits, you and I. It was only a matter of time until I found you, the famous criminal psychiatrist with-” You lean over the desk, looking directly into his eyes,” startling blue eyes.” You take a breath before continuing, not waiting for him to respond. 

“Because I’m a good detective, not like any of my ignorant male peers, I looked into a string of unusual robberies and I noticed that most of Falcone’s men were being moved to Arkham Asylum… on your orders.” 

Crane is silent for a moment, impressed by your intelligence and deduction. He feels his heart starting to pound a little faster again. He does not deny it, but doesn’t confirm your suspicions either. 

“I may have had some influence in those transfers.” 

“Don’t worry, Crane, I’m not here to cause trouble for you. I just wanted to meet the man I’ve admired for so long and see if I can be of some… help.” You smile and pass your fingers over the research papers organized across the desk. You’re catching him off guard on how well you know him and he can’t tell if he likes it or not. His eyes flick across your face again, taking in the sight of your dark eyes and darker eyelashes. 

“You admire me?” 

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

“How does a young, beautiful girl like yourself become so interested in a man like me?” Then he pauses and wets his lips before adding with a smirk, “why, exactly, do you admire me?”

“Your work, it’s impressive. And what can I say… ” You look back up at him with a serious look on your face as you drag a finger across the research papers, pulling out a piece of scratch paper. “I like your style.” 

On the corner of the paper, there is a drawing of a scarecrow. You drag it slowly across the desk until it sits in front of Crane on the desk. You don’t need to say anything else. He looks down at the drawing, swallows, then looks up at you. 

“Stop acting dumb, doc. I know more than you think. Like I said, I’m good at finding information and sticking my nose into places where it may not belong.” 

Crane’s pulse quickens at the edge in your voice, his fingers reaching for and clutching the paper tightly. He wants to be irritated, but somehow you’re bringing out a different, a darker and playful part of him. 

“Once again, you’ve proven yourself to be a very observant and talented young woman. Maybe too talented. I think you’re too dangerous to keep around my office, Miss Vale. You’re a liability.” 

“What are you going to do to me, Crane? Are you going to use your… little fear toxin on me?” You smile, leaning further across the desk where Crane hasn’t moved from his seat. He looks up at you, smirking slyly. 

“Maybe I will.” Dr. Crane starts to stand, and when he does, he’s taller than you but not by much. He isn’t a very tall man, you could easily take him if you needed to. You’re still separated by the desk but you’re close enough to smell his cologne. 

“Impressed by my skills of deduction?” You ask, clasping your hands behind your back. 

Crane walks slowly around his desk to stand in front of you, looking you up and down intently. He tilts his head to the side, his voice distant and distracted. 

“More than a little impressed, yes. You’ve figured out an awful lot about me in a very short time.”

“Now don’t you want to know why I’m here? Your survival instincts are annoyingly slow, Crane,” you tease. 

Crane bristles, displeased with your slight to his intelligence. He crosses his arms over his chest and sits back against the desk, clenching his jaw. “I would love to know why you’re here. You’ve been very coy about that point.” 

You nod and move away from him to continue looking at the books, organized meticulously on the bookshelf. “I have a proposition for you. I want to be… business partners.” You can see Crane watching you from out of the corner of your eye. Crane chuckles a little, stunned. 

“Business partners, huh? And what exactly would that entail?” 

Crane’s eyes sweep over your figure again as he imagines what kind of ‘business partners’ he’d want to be. 

“I’ll help you with your grand plan for Gotham and in return I get two things…” you keep your eyes on the spines, your fingers following the edges of each book. 

“Mm?” Crane hums, listening carefully now that you have his full attention. 

“1. I get to lead beside you when you successfully turn Gotham upside down and 2. I get what’s rightfully mine… Arkham Asylum.” You turn back to look at him, refusing to be intimidated by him even when he looks at you like something he’d like to eat. 

Crane’s eyes widen and he almost starts to laugh. His navel warms, aroused by your attitude and threats. He chuckles softly and moves his hands to grip the desk on either side of his body. 

“Gotham city flipped upside down, and Arkham Asylum in your hands. Your terms are surprisingly bold, Miss Vale.” 

“What can I say, Crane? I’m in the business of retribution.” You shrug, not backing down. 

Crane chuckles again and shakes his head, “Touché.” He imagines himself pinning you against the bookshelf and feels himself get hard just at the thought of it. He watches you closely, noticing your unwavering resolve. “And how can you be sure I won’t use my toxin on you?”

It’s your turn to laugh now. You smile and step closer to him, meeting his cool eyes. You let your eyes look him up and down, admiring the way his lean body hides beneath his expensive suit. 

“I’ve prepared for that possibility… but I like playing with fire.” You pull a lighter out from your pocket and strike a flame. It glows between your faces.

Crane smiles in amusement at your audacity then his eyes dart between your face and the flame separating the two of you. 

“You are playing a dangerous game, Miss Vale.” 

“My favorite,” you respond coolly and play with the flame in your hand. Crane’s eyes follow the flame and he swallows. “So? What say you?” 

He should stop you, he should kick you out of his office and ignore you, but the fire in your eyes and the confidence in your words makes him want to take a risk. He reaches out quickly and takes hold of your chin, tilting your face up so that he can see it clearly. His voice is a low whisper.

“You’re a dangerous little thing, aren’t you?”

“Oh, you have no idea.” You snap the lighter closed and tuck it into Crane’s breast pocket. “Regards from Thomas Wayne. I thought you should have it.” 

Crane looks down at the lighter, dropping his hand away from your chin. His eyes dart back to your face, assessing the weight of your words. Your demeanor is cold and almost amused. Crane swallows, his skin growing cold where the lighter now sits. 

“Where did you get this, Miss Vale?”

“Not only do I want what’s rightfully mine, you deserve what they took from you too. Think of this as my promise and a peace offering.” You pat his breast pocket, your face getting dangerously close to his. He flinches when you touch him and clenches his jaw. He looks down to your hand patting his pocket and raises a sharp brow. 

“And you’re willing to help me get my revenge?” 

“It would be mine too.” 

“Against Thomas Wayne?” 

“Against the whole city… but especially the Waynes.” You whisper, managing to take a step closer. Crane chuckles, admiring the way your eyes darken when you speak so severely. He leans down a little closer to your ear, his breath ruffling your hair. 

“A pretty, vengeful vixen. I’m starting to like you, Miss Vale.” 

“Now, now, now-” You push him back with a sly smile, your teeth showing, “We’re business partners, not fuck buddies. You’ll need to behave yourself if you want to make this work.” 

Crane actually laughs, though the sound is raspy and dark, it’s still a laugh. He allows you to push him back and holds up his hands in mock surrender, sitting back on the edge of his desk. 

“Feisty. Ok, I’ll play the part. No need to worry, Miss Vale… though the thought is… tempting.”

“Not intoxicating? I’ll just have to try harder next time,” you smile as you pull on your coat from the chair. Dr. Crane watches you from his desk, his eyes following your arms as you slide into the quilted coat. 

“Oh you know exactly how intoxicating you are. Don’t be coy, Miss Vale.” 

“Maybe I’m just a Jack of All Trades,” you shrug and move to the door. Crane crosses his arms over his chest again and nods slowly. 

“Yes, I’m starting to see that now. You’re full of surprises.” He can’t help but look you up and down again, his eyes lingering on the shape of your thighs or the angular way you hold your head. He wets his lips, wetting his pallet. 

“Well, here’s another one,” you smile, fully aware of his arousal, “Falcone was taken into custody today. Someone, and I’m not saying who, may have given him a razor blade. He’ll need a psych evaluation and you need to be the one to do it. I don’t trust him to keep his mouth shut if this goes to trial.” 

Crane raises an eyebrow, impressed by your thoroughness. 

“Falcone in custody. Hmm. A razor blade? What a coincidence...” he starts to wonder exactly how far you’re willing to take this revenge of yours. He can feel himself getting excited in more ways than one. 

“You’ve got the right idea, Miss Vale. I’d be more than happy to take over his evaluation.”

“Good. I’ll arrange for you to administer it between your lectures. You’re such a busy man. Professor by day, psychopath by night. I don’t know how you do it.” 

“I’ve made a lot of sacrifices,” he answers cooly, calmly, “As have you, it seems.” 

Something passes between you, something shifts once again in your eyes. 

“Goodnight, Dr. Crane.”  

You start to leave but turn around briefly to speak, your eyes growing softer. You’re actually capable of feelings too, not just well-worded threats. “Don’t lose the lighter… it’s the one he used…” 

You leave the sentence in the air between you, hoping he’ll understand what you mean. Dr. Crane seems to freeze again as he processes what you’re saying. He puts his hand against his breast pocket to feel the outline of the lighter. He clenches his jaw and finally nods. 

“Goodnight, Miss Vale.” 

You nod once and open the door, pushing against its heavy weight. 

“I’ll be in touch,” you say over your shoulder and Crane fixes his glasses. 

“I’m sure.”

Only when the door closes behind you and you’re walking down the dim hallway do you allow yourself to exhale. Dr. Crane was so much more impressive in person… and so much more attractive. You had almost faltered on your plans until you remembered how much you needed him, and how important it was that the two of you meet. Though you must admit, acting unbothered has never been harder. You run your hand through your hair and slip out of the science building on campus. You’re wearing a quilted coat, more for professionalism than warmth. It’s late Spring in Gotham and it’s too warm for a coat. In fact, there’s a heatwave coming in the next week. But you keep the coat on because the color is dark, helping you blend into the shadows of every building in the city. 

The moment the door closes, Crane finds himself almost unable to breathe. He’s nearly shaking and feels strangely off-balance like you’ve completely turned his world on its head. He walks back around his desk to his chair and slowly lowers himself into the seat. He exhales shakily and pinches the bridge of his nose above his glasses. Part of him wants you, the other part wants you gone. With a sigh, Crane pulls the lighter out of his pocket and places it on the desk, looking at it while his thoughts run wild. 

You hadn’t needed to say the words for him to piece it together: this was the lighter that Thomas Wayne used to kill his mother, and by extension, his father. The knowledge of what you’ve given him finally sinks in and he takes a deep breath, his jaw clenching again. He feels a cold shiver rush over him, a thousand thoughts running through his mind at once. He can’t tell if he wants to cry or scream or laugh. Crane reaches out and grabs the lighter, his knuckles turning white. He thinks of you, of your audacity to crash his carefully constructed life with your own plans of revenge. He plays with the lighter, his lips pulled into an unhappy snarl. But the longer he thinks about you, the more he feels himself growing to like you. As much trouble as you could cause him, he liked how fast you thought on your feet and how good you looked in that dress. 

Hours seem to pass before he can slowly regain control of himself enough to clear his head a little. He’s trying to understand you… he wants to trust you but there’s a very loud part of his mind that’s screaming not to. He can’t deny the fact that you’ve completely enthralled him, in fact, the thought of seeing you again makes his heart pound in perverse excitement. He tosses the lighter back on the desk and runs a hand over his face. 

“Damn you…"

[rebelssvy]

obsessed part two

bokuto x reader

(afab. this is the most comfortable i write in. i try my best to make it as gender neutral as possible and not give any description of the reader. lmk how i can do betterrrrrr)

- authors note: you guys really liked part one. so abt to write a SINFUL part two ☺️☺️☺️

part one -link here!

LABELS: smut omg smut. i’ve never written anything smut so don’t judge pls 😩😩contains, making out, oral sex, sex.

walking to school the next day was a pain. bokutos mind was filled with the guilt of what had happened last night.

he jerked off to the girl in his class, who he still has yet to talk to.

ashamed was an understatement. he was embarrassed and felt inhumane. it was even worse because the problem still hadn’t gone away. he still thought of you in the worst ways. he couldn’t help himself.

closing the distance between him and his class room, his eyes narrowed in on you. the guilt was overwhelming. but you looked so cute in your uniform.

entering the classroom he groaned to himself. sitting down at his assigned desk, putting his hands over his face to try to hide his frustration.

he just liked you so much that it was truly embarrassing. he was bokuto koutarou! one of the top aces in high school volleyball. no girl should have his attention like this.

i am not a man, he thought to himself, hands still covering his face.

“ahem…” he looked up at the person trying to get his attention.

to his absolute shock, you were standing right infront of his desk.

“hi…” you said to him waiting for a response…. the response never came as bokuto just looked up at you mouth agape.

“i didn’t know you were so shy!haha” you try playing off to make it less awkward. his silence seemed to be maybe a message for you to just walk away. and yet you stayed begging for his presence.

“well i’m yn, and i didn’t know if you noticed but we have a partner project in this class…. and we were paired up yesterday…. and before i could figure out a plan with you, you walked out of class before i could talk to you yesterday.” you felt yourself ramble on for what seemed like far to long. his silence was draining.

from what you heard from most people, your schools ace was a huge standout. most calling him extroverted, crazy and annoying.

but right now he sat infront of you saying not a word.

finally he spoke up “oh..” he said. that’s literally all he said.

you stayed for a little longer, watching his face grow into a friendly smile.

“it’s nice to meet you yn! i’m so sorry i didn’t even realize we had an assignment together!! HAHA well don’t worry we can get it figured out. also sorry about yesterday i just rushed off to practice without a second thought” bokutos voice boomed throughout the class room.

you let out a sigh of relief. maybe he was just waking up still? but he sure does seem awake now..

“we can only work on the assignment out side of the school hours…. if your comfortable with it you can come over to my house tonight and we can work on it.” you say smiling down at him.

bokutos prayers have been answered. everything he has ever worked for is being rewarded back to him now.

“yes.!” bokuto replied without hesitation. smile still beaming up at her.

“here’s my number, text me after this class gets out.” you say to him. stealing his phone and saving your contact in his phone. you were a little forward. bokuto was practically gushing.

with that you walked back to your desk and started talking with your friends.

bokuto was so happy he could scream.

the day went on, after you two had agreed on a set time for him to arrive at your house he was counting down the minutes.

he would have to come over after he practiced, meaning he would also have to go home to shower before hand.

it gave you more time to get ready before he made it to your house.

secretly, you had been honing a crush on bokuto for awhile now. when your teacher announced that you two would be in a group together you were thrilled. but when you looked over to bokuto, he seemed… upset.

his face was hard to read. it was a mix of tired, guilt, and anger. you chose to not introduce yourself to him until class was out, not wanting to make a fool of yourself. but before you could he had already left.

that’s why you were so nervous. he was so big, not just tall. that man was beefy. in all the right ways. and you couldn’t even tell if he liked you at all.

of course you would glance at him time to time in class, even showing up to some of his games in previous years. you noticed him.

analyzing yourself in your mirror. checking the time ever so often.

you had taken a shower, got out of the shower and did all your duties to look the best you could. sporting yourself in a way you were most confident.

also going to the measure of cleaning your room. everything had to be perfect.

before you new it your doorbell rang. you rushed to the door, opening to a freshly washed bokuto.

he had on grey sweats and a black hoodie. his hair was still a little damp from his shower, so it wasn’t spiked up in its usual manner. his bangs clung to his forehead.

“heeeLLO” he said to you voice getting a little louder as his word continued.

“hi” you said to him while still looking him up and down. it was a little obvious you were checking him out.

you quickly let him in and gave him a tour of your home. making a mental note to leave your bedroom for last. making a b- line for your kitchen you offered him somthing to drink.

his presence alone was enough. he was just soo huge. you felt his gaze after every corner you took.

“uh yes water is fine.” he said, way more calm.

you got him a glass and sat on your counter top. he was infront of you leaning his back on your cabinet.

as he drank he held a comfortable eye contact with you.

“how was practice?” you spoke up.

he reached forward and put his glass next to you, then leaned back to his formal position.

“i did way better then i did yesterday i can say that much.” he said with a chuckle. his voice was low. deep.

“what happened yesterday?” you asked.

he seemed a little taken back from your question. but it was only a second of that expression that was followed with a smile.

“oh i just didn’t do my best. my teammates say i get in my own head sometimes but even my worst is not that bad soo” he said with a low chuckle again. his grin never really left his face.

he was confident in himself that was forsure. you thought you should atleast see where you stand with him. gathering up all the confidence you had to flirt with him just a tinyyy bit.

“oh so you must be gooood.” you say leaning forward a little, still perched on your counter top. you made sure you arch your back a little, even though he couldn’t see it from where he was sitting. you applied the action anyways.

bokutos ears perked up a little. he sure did love flattery.

“i mean, yeah. i’m pretty good.” he said non chalantly. leaning forward a little more as well.

“tell me bokuto, how good are you?” you asked. leaning just as much as you could without falling off the counter top.

“oh i’m pretty good. but i can’t tell you how good i am… it’s something you have to experience yourself.” he said, smug. grin still on his face.

as he spoke he had stopped leaning against your counter top.

he got closer to you, your heart beat picked up. he then picked up his hand, reaching out.

just as you thought he was going to touch you, he picked up his glass beside you. blushing your thigh in the action.

he picked up his glass and finished the rest of his water with a gulp.

smug bastard. you thought to yourself.

you then got back onto your feet and started walking out of the kitchen. bokuto taking that as his note to follow behind you.

you silently led him to your room. anticipating whatever came next.

as you waked bokuto stared. he stared at your ass, your hips, your waist. anything he could look at he took a mental picture of.

this could be the only time he was this close to you. he thought.

opening the door to your room you, you showed him around.

“you can sit anywhere your comfortable with, but i did get an extra chair for you at my desk.” you say to him. going and taking a seat next to the school work you had already laid out.

bokuto was taking in everything. your posters, your decorations, anything you had in their he was saving in a file in his brain.

he finally sat down next to you.

you started going over the project, he would follow your words with some “hmm” or “ook” but overall he didn’t seem very into it.

all bokuto could think about is you stuffed full of his cock. really it was a shame. you were talking to him and that’s all he could think about. he watched your lips as they instructed him. that’s all he really watched.

“bokuto.” you said in a firm voice.

“are you even listening?” you said to him slightly annoyed.

“uhh yea…” he replied guilt sinking in once again.

he was evil. he wanted you. he felt as if you had just teased him in the kitchen too. he wanted to get you back. bad.

he licked his lips. confidence surging through him for a second. he opened his mouth to say somthing.

but the words never came. blush flooded his face. you probably think he’s stupid at this point.

“you are so pretty.” he said quickly. it came out of nowhere. he didn’t even mean to say it. he was so embarrassed!

but there was no way you were gonna know how embarrassed he is. no, bokuto koutaro never gets embarrassed!

you stare back at him. confused. but to all honestly. you were aching for him. his frame so close to yours, made you painfully aware of how big he was.

and he just called you pretty. what even in your next move! what are you supposed to say to that!

“y/n…” he said quietly. it was soft. he had gotten closer to you then you realized. you could feel his breath on your lips.

“bokuto…” you whispered back to him. the distance was painful.

before you could register he had his lips on yours. closing the gap. you locked your lips with his. it was just a quick kiss. romantic if anything.

you two pulled away. staring him in the eyes, there was a hunger.

“i need more” he said before grabbing you cheeks and closing the distance again. you were shocked. this must be a dream.

your hands found his body. scooting as close as you could without falling off your chair. one of your hands found his bicep. the other on his shoulder.

the kisses grew hungrier. his pace picked up. you gasped when his hand found your thigh. it was a comfortable position.

he took this chance to slip his tongue into your mouth. you purrred against him.

your touches grew with sexual tension. you parted for a second to catch your breath. a line of saliva connecting you two.

“c’mere” he said scooting his chair back alittle. signaling you to get out of your chair.

you stood up waiting further instruction.

he reached up and grabbed your hips pulling you closer to him. he was still seated, legs apart.

you felt like you were on fire. his eyes took in all off you. his hands rubbed your hips. even going a little farther to pinch at the fat of your ass.

“wanna sit on my lap?” he said tilting his head to the side. you shook your head and slowly made your way to his lap. you were positioned so you could face him.

his hands cradled you, finding your curves.

“you think i’m pretty?” you said to him bringing your hands to his jaw.

“you have no idea.” he breathed out.

finding his lips again except the tension in the room was now thick. you were growing a pool in your panties. every touch of his fingers was doing numbers to your core.

without knowing it you slowly started to grind yourself against him. you only noticed when you felt bokuto grow underneath you. his hands moved to your ass. grabbing at it.

then his hands slowly fell even farther. coming concerningly close to your core.

“y/n…. can i…?” he parted quickly. out of breath begging you for more.

“yes bokuto.” you moaned out to him. still grinding your hips against him.

“do whatever you want” you moaned out throwing your head back. you were growing needy.

without any words bokuto grabbed you and picked you up. putting you down on the bed.

your back was on the bed with your legs folded to your chest. he had ahold of your shins.

he was standing above you grinning like a kid in a candy shop.

“i’ve been waiting for this.” he stated.

his fingers graced over your core, you sucked in breath.

“you have?” you whimpered out.

“i have liked you for quite sometime. i have even dreamt of doing somthing like this too you. y/n… you have no idea.” he said while taking off your pants. you were left in only your underwear. then he started working on your shirt, pulling it off over your head.

now being left only in your bra you felt very conscious of everything.

“fuck…” he said to himself seeing you drenched through your panties. this was truly his dream.

“can i?” he said before continuing.

you shook your head yes.

he touched your clothed core with a certain grace. seeming like he was afraid to hurt you. you moaned out at his touch.

your ass was almost off the bed when he slowly came to the ground squatting on two knees.

you soon realized what he wanted to do.

“bo… you don’t have too” you said painfully, when al you really wanted was his tongue on your cunt.

“i want to.” he said before stuffing his face into your core.

you still had your panties on but the friction was just too much. you moaned out back arching for him.

he was hooked. he circled anything he could with his tongue, even taking breaks to kiss your stomach. he finally took your underwear off.

staring at your naked core he was in love. he wanted to be the only man to ever see you like this.

experimentally he blew on it, seeing your body react and you moan out. he loved his life.

diving back into you he licked all of you. slurping up your juices, sucking at your clit. taking every angle he could to make you feel good.

“more…” you whimpered out.

he brought his fingers up to your hole without warning. he played with our rimming a finger around your clenched spot. sticking it in you he stucked on your clit simultaneously.

you moaned out. it was really too much. your core was building up at a fast rate as his finger pumped in and out of you.

he stoped and stood infront of you again. you looked up at him wondering why he had to hault your pleasure.

he took off his hoodie and sweats leaving himself in just his boxers.

and oh. my. god. he was wonderful. he was everything you could ever dream.

“bokuto… i need you.” you told him.

he was on fire right now. you were sprawled out on the bed, cunt for his to see.

“fuck… you drive me insane.” he said pulling his boxers down to free his length.

“oh my god” you moaned out. it was huge. there was no way that was going to inside you. his one finger did the job, so what is that thing even going to do to you.

“cmon baby you can take me.” he said lying down next to you on the bed. you crouch up on your knees.

“ride me.” he demanded.

you positioned yourself on top of him. grabbing at his his abs as you mentally prepped yourself for what was gonna be inside you.

slowly you reach down for his cock. he had already been stroking it.

you touch it and he lets in a sharp gasp of air. you give it a good couple pumps

“hah” he moaned out. you had kept eye contact the hold time you entered him in you.

lowering yourself as best you can. his face was of euphoria.

“bokuto… your tooooo big hah” you moaned out to him.

“call me koutarou” he gasped out.

you found the strength to get him in you. bottoming out you clenched around him.

“fuuuck kou” you moaned out. you started grinding yourself against him.

it was the best pain you had ever felt.

“your beautiful. oh my god.” he said as his hands found your boobs.

pulling your bra down and bringing his lips to your hardened nipples.

your back arched for him. you moaned out louder and louder.

bouncing against him. this was all he ever wanted. he was in heaven.

you felt that familiar coil in your core tighten up again.

and bokuto could tell. he felt your walls clench around him as your threw your head back.

before he could think about it he changed positions. throwing you on your back and into a missionary position.

he took it to himself to start pounding into you.

“kou… nnnits too muchhch” you moaned out. it was almost hard to hear because of the sound your pussy was making.

“cmon. you can take it” he grunted out, slamming himself into you.

you moaned more. eye contact the whole time he fucked you.

the way you clenched around him was almost painful. but he could tell you were close.

he brought his fingers to your sensitive bud.

“cum for me. come on baby you can do it.” he grunted.

“come on my cock.” he grunted even more.

you were so close.

“your mine, understand?”

that sent you have the edge. you clamped around him spasmsing through your orgasm.

bokuto barely pulled out in time to cum on your stomach.

“i’m yours im yours im yours…” you babbled off to yourself.

fuck.

you were both drained.

who ever thought this is where you would be.

he got up to get a tissue for you to wipe you off. then coming over to press a kiss to your forehead.

“i’ll be right back” he said he before he left.

he came back with some water and helped you up.

“what’s going on?” you asked still faint from your orgasm.

“i started a shower for us!” he beamed at you.

yep. he could definitely be the one for you.

………………………………………………………………………………….

- WOWWWWW WHAT DID I JUST WRITE! this is my longest and still some of my first works i’ve put out. well i hope you like it also. comment any ideas you guys have for me!

[panic-at-the-fiction]

A Problem to Work With part 2

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a problem to work with. He’s annoying, snarky, hot headed and you don’t get along. And this has absolutely nothing to do with your thoughts about how big his arms are, or how hot he is when he’s mad. No this is only about how difficultly annoying he is.

Warning: Tension, banter, eventual smut. Maybe some gun violence.

A/N: Ooh look at me go two in a row, I’m almost back in my groove. This is fun, I miss this. Hope y’all enjoy it as much as I did.

You crossed the dance floor to the drinks table and leaned onto the counter beside Lestrade with a heavy sigh. “Now, I love these galas as much as the next person, but perhaps I wasn’t meant for all this dancing.” You gave a loud laugh signaling to the waiter to hand you water.

Lestrade waved off his previous group of friends and gave you a smile that made you want to take a step back, but you held up the persona you had created. “Someone as pretty as you, well, you were made to show off on the dance floor.”

“My thought exactly,” Bucky said with impeccable timing, stepping into the husband role with ease as he possessively placed a hand around your waist. He extended his right hand for Lestrade to shake, “Hi James Laker, seems you’ve met my wife here. You must be Walter Lestrade, I hear you're a big deal around here.” His face was cordial but his voice, that was sending chills down your spine.

“A pleasure to meet you both, and as for me being a big deal, I’m not so convinced of that. I own some important properties, a few stocks, and just the right amount of influence to be relevant. But hey, isn’t that what we’re all looking for in this line of work.” He laughed and gave you a wink.

You laughed with him and gave Bucky a slap on the shoulder. “Isn’t he just a laugh, dear.”

“Yes, isn't he just?”

“Me and my husband were so hoping to meet you tonight, I’ve been following your work in the Congo district. I admire the investments you’ve made in your developments.”
“Why thank you madam, I see you are fellow realtor investors then?”

“Yes, maybe not quite on your level, but we’ve made some good decisions over the years.”

You placed your hand on Bucky’s chest, feeling how warm he was. “My husband's just being modest, we actually just purchased a large development in the Hamptons. We just moved out here to oversee the project.”

“How lucky are you to have a business partner as pretty as your wife here. I mean, none of my shareholders are nearly as captivating.” Was his flirting actually starting to affect Bucky? His grip was tightening on your waist to the point his metal hand would certainly leave a bruise if he kept it up.

“Oh, I just love this song. Mrs. Laker you must join me on the dance floor, for a spin. That is, if it’s ok with your husband here?” He said with a grin wide on his face.

“I’m sure it’s ok, right, sweetie?” Bucky's jaw was clenched tight.

“Oh course.” He said, releasing the tight grip on your hip, allowing you to take Lestrade’s outstretched hand.

He pulled you out onto the dance floor and into a close hold that you couldn’t help yourself from comparing to Bucky. That moment had been intimate and close, this just felt structural.

“So, Mrs. Laker, tell me about yourself.”

“Oh, call me (y/n).”

“Ok (y/n), how does a pretty thing like you end up married and running a business.” You smiled pretending like you were flattered, but internally, you wondered if he was prone to flirt with married women. But then again you weren’t actually married and this could work to your benefit.

“Well, James and I married 8 years ago, thought it would be best for the business, put off having kids because we thought it would be best for the business, and now we’ve moved here because we thought it would be best for the business.”

“I see, well, what do you think might be best for your business now?”

“Well it seems that getting to know you would be what’s best, for the business I mean.”

“Excuse me, can I borrow my wife for a second?” Bucky was quick to grab Lestrade’s hand from where it sat on the small of your back before using his other hand to pull you away and off the dance floor. His grip on your wrist, bruising.

“Buck, what are you doing? I was gaining his trust just then.” You said as he dragged you out of the main ballroom into the hallways and towards the worker’s entrance.

“Oh no, I saw what you were doing,” He said through teeth that sounded as tightly clenched as his hold on you. “But no need for THAT, I know how to get what we came here for.”

“Really?” He didn't bother to answer. The servant's entrance led to the garage where they had parked the valeted cars. He stopped dragging you finally and dangled a set of keys from his hand.

“Lestrade car,” Realization dawned on you. “But how did you…?”

“I talked to some wait staff while you were dancing.”

You laughed, “You don’t think he’s dumb enough to have the plans here in his car, do you?”

“Actually, I do.” He clicked the car keys and a loud beep sounded from a bright red Aston Martin. You walked over thinking about how of course Lestrade, a man who had just a few moments ago shamefully hit on a supposedly married woman, drove such a gauche car.

“Subtle.”

Bucky held the front door open for you to get in. “Do your thing, doll.”

You tried not to let the heat in your face show as you got to work on the console of the car. He had an outrageous amount of technology in this thing.

“Well, I’ll be damned, even his car's software is deeply locked. I mean Buck, this is high security right here, he’s gotta be hiding something in this computer.”

“Well, what did I tell you, the ass face is that dumb.”

“Are you mad because I danced with him, my dear husband?” You teased as you worked on hacking into the car's computer system.

Bucky leaned his head down from outside the car. “No, I’m mad I ever let that damn fool even get close enough to learn your name, let alone place a hand on you.” His voice was low, and you stopped your work on the computer and slowly looked at him. His eyes were dark and hungry and hot and oh so close to yours. He looked as if he wanted to eat you and you would let him.

You thought for a moment he might lean in and kiss you here and now with his breath fanning so close to you, “Bucky.”

“Well now I knew someone might be coming here tonight to try and cause some trouble, but man was I hoping for a lot less bloodshed tonight.” Lestrade called from the parking garage. Bucky quickly snapped into soldier mode as you both took in the 5 or more security members with guns standing behind Lestrade.

“What makes you think there's going to be any bloodshed?” Bucky said with a straight face.

“Ha, please, now be serious here and step out of the car. We’re just going to go upstairs and have us a nice chat. I’ll even be nice and let the girl sit out of this one, no need to ruin that pretty face of hers.”

Bucky put his hand out to tell you to stay put, but in doing so, he slyly slipped you the car keys. “Now Lestrade if you have something to say we can just talk out here, anything you can say to me, you can say it in front of my wife.” He slowly backed around the door, moving subtly to the front of the car, further away from Lestrade and his men.

“See, I’m really starting to doubt the two of you are married.” He laughed, but you could tell he was on his last straw. Lestrade wasn’t afraid to start shooting and to leave without any answers from you two.

“Yeah, well, the thing about that is…” Bucky slammed the car door shut and took off running through the parking deck, using the cars to shield him partially as he did so.

“After him!” Lestrade shouted at his men.

You got the message and had the keys ready in the ignition and started the car up before throwing it into reverse and whipping the car out of its parking space. Lestrade barely jumped out of the way before pulling out his hand gun and attempting to aim at your tires, but apparently he wasn’t much of a sharpshooter.

You twisted through the parking garage looking for Bucky. You knew that Lestrade’s men had no chance of catching him on foot, but you needed to get out of here and fast.

Luckily, he found you first. He jumped onto the hood of the car, landing with a loud thud that nearly made you scream as he partially blocked your vision through the windshield.

“Oh my god Barnes, what are you thinking?!”

“Just drive!” He yelled.

You slammed your foot on the gas, heading for the exit, as Bucky slowly began to move his way across the hood to the passenger side door.

You reached across with one hand and threw it open as he slipped in feet first from the top of the car, slamming the door once he was inside.

“So much for a covert stealth mission.”

“Yeah well Stark should have known better than to send us in if he wanted this done the easy way.” You laughed at his sarcasm, causing him to laugh too, but you stopped when you heard him take a loud hiss as he clutched his ribs a bit.

“Shit are you hurt?” You reached over to check him, but he swatted you away.

“Well, I sort of just slammed myself into this car with you going like 50 miles an hour in a parking deck.”

“I was trying to find you, sorry if I wasn’t following speeding laws in this stolen car.”

“Please just focus on driving.” He sighed as he lean back in the passenger seat, letting go of his side. “We need to get a safe distance away, finish getting the information we need, and then ditch this car.”

“Agreed.”

Part 3 should be out next week

@preeyansha @mostlymarvelgirl @chimchoom @kedawg @littletomboy2 @hi172826

[munsonsmixtapes]

Hi I hope you are having a great day.

I was wondering if you could write more about Eddie Munson dating a Swiftie.

- Swiftie anon

um yes absolutely!

I saw a tiktok where a girl was showing her boyfriend All Too Well (10 Minute Version) which is what this was inspired by. If I can find it, I'll link it here!

"So this one is allegedly about Jake Gyllenhall," you tell him as you put on the next song, turning it up since it's the one you really to see his reaction to.

"How do you know this?"

"The internet, baby. That's why I say allegedly because there's no actual confirmation that it's about him, but I mean, it's pretty clear that it is."

"This is ten minutes?" He asks as he looks at the little screen in his car that shows what song is playing.

Sure, a lot of the songs he listens to are much longer than that, but that's expected with the genres he listens to. It's not very common for a pop song to exceed five minutes so he thinks there must be a lot that needs to be said.

"Yes," you nod. "But I promise it won't even feel like. Oh, and there's a short film as well that we can watch later."

"A short film?"

Eddie doesn't know why that surprises him. Considering everything he's heard about this woman from you, it seems like she's always doing something and even though he's never really been a huge fan of hers, he can still appreciate how much she loves her job and how much effort and love she puts into each project.

"Yes! It really shows what their relationship was like and puts the whole thing into perspective."

The lyrics start and you're singing along, even going as far as pulling out a red scarf from your purse and wrapping it around your neck. Eddie looks at you briefly before turning back to the road as he laughs how committed to the bit you are.

You're singing along to the lyrics as Eddie tries to focus on them, pausing the song after only a few lines.

I walked through the door with you, the air was cold But something 'bout it felt like home somehow And I left my scarf there at your sister's house And you've still got it in your drawer, even now

"Pause," he says, trying to wrap his head around what he's just heard.

"He kept her scarf?" The whole thing seems so weird to him. He understands to an extent, but not enough to defend who is being sung about.

"Yes!" You reply. "He was even seen wearing it while walking around town, Eddie! There are paparazzi pictures."

"So weird," he shakes his head then plays the song again.

And I know it's long gone and That magic's not here no more And I might be okay, but I’m not fine at all

"This is so heartbreaking," he comments, really hearing the pain in her voice.

"And it only gets worse from here," you sigh, obviously already knowing what's coming.

And you were tossing me the car keys, "Fuck the patriarchy" Keychain on the ground, we were always skipping town And I was thinking on the drive down, "Any time now, He's gonna say it's love", you never called it what it was Till we were dead and gone and buried Check the pulse and come back, swearing it's the same After three months in the grave And then, you wondered where it went to, as I reached for you But all I felt was shame and you held my lifeless frame

Eddie doesn't want to admit it, but that part's made him feel something. Maybe it's just how heartbroken she sounds or how she talks about how she really seemed to love him and was proud of their relationship while whoever she's singing about just wanted to hide what they had away because he seemed ashamed.

He thinks about how he would never want to do that to you, how he loves to flaunt your relationship, even going as far as kissing you in public, not giving a single damn who's watching. So he doesn't understand how people can feel so ashamed of their partner.

And you call me up again Just to break me, like a promise So casually cruel in the name of being honest I'm a crumpled up piece of paper lying here 'Cause I remember it all, all, all Too well

"He made her feel like a piece of paper, Eddie."

"Brutal," he replies with a sigh.

They say all's well that ends well, but I'm in a new Hell Every time you double-cross my mind You said, "If we had been closer in age, maybe it would have been fine" And that made me want to die

"What was the age difference?"

"She was nineteen or twenty and he was twenty-nine." That makes Eddie's stomach churn. He's the same age and can't even conceptualize wanting to pursue someone as young as nineteen or twenty. That's a whole nine and ten years difference and that would definitely make for a power imbalance.

"Gross. And he's just saying that to make himself feel better. Because the truth is, he was going to end it anyway because it's clear that he doesn't care about her as much and she cares about him. The whole thing seems manipulative."

"See! I knew you'd understand." You love how much he's actually thinking about the lyrics and what they mean just like you do.

The idea you had of me, who was she? A never-needy, ever-lovely jewel whose shine reflects on you Not weeping in a party bathroom Some actress asking me what happened, you That's what happened, you You, who charmed my dad with self-effacing jokes Sipping coffee like you're on a late-night show But then he watched me watch the front door all night, willing you to come And he said, "It's supposed to be fun turning twenty-one"

"Hold on," he pauses the music again. "He didn't show up to her birthday party?"

"No," you shake your head in disappointment. "He didn't. And there's a whole song about that which we can listen to later."

And I was never good at telling jokes, but the punch line goes I'll get older, but your lover's stay my age

"Damn," is all Eddie can say in response to the line. "That was cutthroat."

The song comes to an end as the the car rolls up to your destination and Eddie just sits there, staring out through the windshield, clearly deep in thought. He then turns to you, still looking like he's pondering.

"Can we listen to it again?" He asks, which surprises you."

"Of course we can, baby," you reply and play the song again as you two sit in silence in the grocery store parking lot that Eddie had just pulled into. It seems like your groceries can wait. At least for the next ten minutes, they can.

[mullet-stan101]

Werewolf Stan x Reader

Chapter 2, tw: just some mentions of physical pain and transformation (might elaborate more in further chapters)

It’s been a month since Stan was bit and three weeks since he fell sick from the bite. Ford hasn’t been able to do anything but keep him comfortable while he waits for the inevitable. Y/n on the other hand, doesn’t look at it so technically…she sympathizes with Stan as she can tell he’s obviously been through something rough.

Stan blinks and rubs his eyes as he wakes in the morning. Light filters in despite the thick private curtains in Ford’s spare room, and he looks around in confusion. He doesn’t recognize the house at all, he doesn’t even remember how he got here.

“Geesh what happened…”

He rubs his shoulder and his head snaps back as that makes him remember, but he’s surprised to see nothing but skin. Despite being tired and confused…he feels amazing. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and gets up slowly.

“Stanford…?”

Y/n glances up from the kitchen as she hears him, and he walks in. He does look a lot better…now that he’s not covered in grime and blood she can definitely tell that they’re twins, even with the weight and hair difference.

“Hi…you hungry?”

Stan glances up a little surprised but he remembers, smiling a little sheepishly as he’s just in his wife beater and boxers. 

“Yeah…starved. Where’s Ford?”

She shrugs as she cracks some eggs into a pan and starts to scramble them, dressed in a sweatshirt and pajama pants. 

“Down in the lab as usual…he barely ever comes out.”

Stan nods slowly and sits down. He checks her out a little from behind, she’s very pretty. He’s surprised that Ford landed her.

“Uh…thanks for convincing him to let me stay…”

He trails off as he never caught her name and she smiles softly.

“Y/n.”

“Y/n…well- I’m Stanley, call me Stan though. So…how’d you and ol’ sixer get together?”

She blinks and then chuckles as she realizes what he means. 

“Together? Oh gosh no...at least- not now.”

She hesitates a little as she doesn’t want to admit that she hoped for that at first, but Ford has changed since college.

“I just work for him, all of his projects and stuff y’know?’

“So you’re a nerd too, huh?”

She laughs softly and slides him a plate of scrambled eggs.

“Pretty much- but a different type I guess. Ford is the chemistry and supernatural nerd, I’m just the engineer. And a little animal fascination I guess.”

Stan nods and smiles softly, eating the eggs and thanking you. You both eat breakfast quietly until Ford comes back upstairs, looking a little frazzled and sleep-deprived. Seeing Stan up and better would usually make him relieved but this makes him even more nervous. He walks over and without hesitation pries his mouth open and shines a light in his eyes.

“Hey-! What the heck??”

Ford huffs as he reluctantly moves back out of Stan’s personal space, Stan rubbing his jaw with a glare as he’d just been grabbed like a lab rat. 

“You look completely healthy…I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Stan frowns at this in confusion. 

“Wait and see what?” 

Ford scoffs as he opens the fridge. 

“This doesn’t concern either of you? Your bite healed a day after you were bit, you’ve just been sick for nearly a month. Today is a full moon, does that ring a bell?”

Stan scoffs and nearly chuckles at how crazy that sounds. 

“You’ve been reading too much monster junk, Sixer. If you’re about to tell me I’m a werewolf you’re wrong…and nuts.” 

“What bit you huh, Stanley? I bet you’ll say a big dog won’t you?”

Stan smirks as his mouth opens to retort but he closes it as Ford says that last statement. 

“Uh- yeah…that’s what it looked like to me.”

Ford shakes his head with a sigh, taking a swig of coffee as he adjusts his glasses. 

“Just as I thought…you need to stay here tonight…maybe from now on.”

“What?? Like some kinda lab rat, no thanks. I just needed you to fix me up and you did, now just a couple days to get back on my feet and I’ll be fine.”

Y/n frowns softly as she looks at him. 

“Ford’s right Stanley…I didn’t believe him at first, but this can’t be a coincidence.”

Stan frowns at this, thinking she was on his side and he shakes his head with a scoff.

“I can’t even believe this- I’m stayin’ for a bit anyways but no more prying my mouth open, ok?”

Ford nods and leaves Stan alone, and y/n eventually follows as she goes to help him. Stan is left alone in the kitchen and once they’re gone he can’t help but think about what they said, and he hates to admit that it scares him. 

***

That evening he’s internally on edge whereas Ford doesn’t hide it at all. He preps one of his spare rooms and gets y/n to help him secure it. Stan watches quietly from the couch, his brow knit in worry…he watches y/n and he can’t help but admire her skillful nature compared to his brother’s smarts. The sun begins to set and they finish, Ford anxious as he fiddles around with his equipment and y/n notices how anxious Stan is, sitting next to him quietly.

“I know you’re probably nervous…”

Stan scoffs and chuckles, attempting to hide it. 

“Me? Nervous? Hell, I've fought off prison guards and gang members, I’ll be fine.”

She frowns a little, her eyes soft as she can see right through it. 

“Well if you are nervous don’t worry, you may have to go through it tonight, but Ford’s smart. If anyone could figure out the cure to lycanthropy it’d be him.”

“You’re sure…?”

She smiles softly and nods, to which Stan lets his cocky look fall, looking a little nervous.

“It’s the suspense…if it’s really going to happen I’m gonna feel it. Why the hell is this happening?? This isn’t supposed to be real!”

“I-I really don’t know…it’s something about this place. I’ve never seen anything like it before either.”

Stan sighs and he looks at her, his brown eyes more worried and scared than when he was even sick. The night gets later and he gets progressively more nervous, Ford eventually pushes him to go into the room and he does. The two sit outside his room anxiously as the moon begins to rise, and Stan sits inside, watching and waiting for what feels like his impending doom. His breathing grows shallow as his hands begin to shake and he clamps them in his lap.

“This isn’t happening, this isn’t happening…chill out, Stan c’mon-”

He groans as a deep ache ripples down his spine and he leans forward with a gasp. Slowly his body begins to swell and contort as he whimpers in pain and fear. 

“N-no…no…” 

He yelps in pain as it shocks through his system, his body contorting and growing as he can’t deny it anymore. Y/n’s head snaps up as she hears the sounds in the room and she looks to Ford who is trying to stay stern. She flinches as there’s a thump and whimpers and growls before it goes completely silent. The two sit there in silence for a few minutes, before the sound of low whimpering seeps into the living room. Her heart clenches hearing this, despite the idea of a werewolf being one room over, she can’t help but feel bad for Stan.

“Ford…we’re not just going to sit here are we?”

Ford glances up with a frown.

“Well yes- we can’t risk anything, even if it’s my brother.” 

Her brow furrows in concern and she scoffs as she steps towards the door.

“How do we expect to help him if you don’t even want to see him like this? You’ll risk your life to go hunt some random crap in the woods but not to help your brother? I’m gonna check on him.”

Ford’s eyes widen as she goes to unlock the door and he stands up quickly to grab her hand. 

“No! Are you crazy? A werewolf is a werewolf! Stan or not-”

She opens the door slowly and stiffens, in the dark of the small room a pair of yellow eyes stare back at her, an enormous wolf. 

[morsmortish]

hi beth 🔥 you mentioned dorcas and emma yesterday... i NEED to know more. the wlw world is still a unknown subject for me, so drop some lesbians 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

hello irene my love!!!! i love love love dorcas and emma individually, and i have SUCH a vision for them together. to me, they’re those two best friends who are almost toxicly dependent. they’re in the same year, same slytherin dorm, and quite a bit older than barty and reg and even maybe the marauders. to me, they are THE homoerotic wlw friendship for the ages.

i have said it before, but i see them having a rlly intense friendship. it’s also not super healthy- they’re both extremely competitive and equally proud and stubborn, and so there’s many instances of forced fake smiles, high levels of passive aggression, and even that over-the-top sickly sweetness. both of them find it hard to form many other connections, and so they find themselves both trapped in this extremely toxic friendship where they’re turning every single thing into a silent competition: emma is cruelly condescending when she is chosen as quidditch captain over dorcas; whilst dorcas not-so-subtly rubs it in when she gets more OWLs; they both simper at each other and shoot barbed but veiled insults every minute of every day. and yet, they also care more about the other than anything else. emma would kill anyone for slagging off dorcas, and dorcas would kill HERSELF before letting anyone try to get between them. they’re simultaneously each other’s worst enemy and each other’s best friend.

everyone else is a bit scared of them, and they really truly have no one else: this is both by choice and by everyone else being extremely intimidated by them. plus, their ‘friendship’ has always been laced with something else, something more, and in the absence of external company, it ramps up in intensity until they are making out to relieve the tensions between them. or they are competing for the best potions grade, with the winner getting a very specific ‘reward’. or they are finding ways to let out all the pent-up frustration they bear towards each other. they would never ever go as far as to describe themselves as dating, or in any sort of romantic relationship, and yet they have never quite been ‘just friends’. the ultimate situationship.

they’re like two ends of a tug-of-war rope, their ‘friendship’ frozen in the middle. dorcas is hot-headed and angry, whilst emma is calculated and coldly cruel. fire and ice. they’re both outcasts from pureblood society: dorcas as a muggle-born, and emma as a part of a disgraced lineage. they’re both poc women trying to stay afloat in the1970s. they also both always want to be the best at everything. they’re both ambitious and proud and selfish. in a way, they balance each other out, but also bring out the worst in each other. yet they both find solace in being able to be this ‘worst version’ of themselves- the pretence of fake smiles and forced kindness holds no value, and they both know the truth behind it all. it’s not the same as pretending to be a good person, as they are both entirely aware that neither of them are. they are just as bad for each other as they are good. they give each other the freedom to be terrible, and in a twisted way make each other better.

[springsketches]

He’s very tired, TLQ has more decisions to make… Oh hey, the pristine cut comes out tomorrow! Have a last minute picture I did! This was surprisingly difficult ha ha ha, I don’t know how many times I’m gonna draw the shifting mound again... Congratulations Abby and Tony for their time and efforts! I look forward to playin it tomorrow!

It’s exciting!! I’ve been waiting a while for this one! I hope people have been as excited as I’ve been! Maybe sometime I’ll create a more detailed/flushed out drawing, but for now I’m happy with this drawing given the short amount of time I gave myself.

Being loosely a part of this fandom has definitely helped me in my art journey and inspired me to become a better creator.

Also, if I may be a little self-indulgent, I’m gonna show my oc clapping for them! She’s excited too

[bleue-flora]

That's an interesting opinion! There could be more than one reasons for creating the prison and your idea sounds like a pretty justifiable one. And though reasons for building the prison have been given by cc's I don't think your reason is too far removed from theirs to disregard it completely?

[context]

Thanks, I appreciate you saying that. I fear I was pissing people off a bit, and that was not my intention. I wasn’t meaning to disagree only add too, go a bit further if you will... Some times I wonder, am I the only one who does things with 4 agendas, not to mention a subconscious one I’m not even aware of? Like I don’t know, to say I do anything for only one reason just isn’t true at all but maybe I’m the only who does that? Cuz like for example, I went to college to get a degree. A degree so I can get a well paying job that will also be able to make enough money to pay off the loans it costs to get. I also want to be able to make enough money to support myself and a family, buy a house and travel one day. I also felt like I needed a nice cushiony job so I can have vacation and time off and days I can take off when my mental health is bad. I also wanted to get a degree that isn’t a waste of my time or intellect. I wanted to make a difference and a lasting impact on the world and that’s why I chose civil engineering. I am also good at math, love knowing the why and problem solving that goes along with engineering mentality and my dad is a civil engineer so I figured it fit. But I also wanted to get a degree to make people proud, and because I worked hard in high school so I might as well make it worth it… so I can say I got an engineering degree to make money. But that doesn’t quite cover it, does it? There are so many other layers into it, so to say oh Quackity just tortured Dream to get the book or Dream just made the prison in fear of an unkillable evil seems way over simplified. Not to say those aren't main reasons, but just as we know Quackity had other connecting reasons and agendas in torturing Dream, it doesn’t seem to me to be that far fetched to say Dream has multiple reasons for the prison too… but hey what do I know, I’m just sharing my random thoughts. :)

[oysters-aint-for-me]

i feel like my mental/behavioral health has gotten to the point where i don’t just need therapy, i need treatment. ykwim

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

.

[cetoddle-archive]

therapy was interesting she kinda just out of nowhere asks if i like writing and i was hesitantly like….yes……and she got all excited she was like you should really pursue that. i think that’d be great for you. and i was like thank you but why are you saying this. i don’t remember exactly what she said cause i think i blacked out a little but basically said im very well spoken and deliberate with my word choice and she said she’d have been very surprised if i said i don’t write at all

[theflannelwizard]

My dad has this theory about “project-based friends” that I’ve been thinking about lately. A project-based friend is someone you meet through fandom/hobbies, and they’re usually really easy to get super close to while you’re both invested in the project, be it an actual project or the same fandom/fixation or whatever else.

But as soon as one or both of you moves on from the project, you fall out of touch. Because the project-based friend doesn’t really care about you as a person as much as they care about what you bring to the project. Or even if they do care about you, they just don’t know how to keep a friendship up when you don’t have a project together.

This isn’t necessarily a selfish thing, it’s just… the friendship isn’t personal. A project-based friend will have fun with you while it lasts and then either move on entirely or stay kinda half in your life, never really reaching out or holding real conversations. And I think a big part of my problem is that I’ve been expecting project-based friends to stick around for me when really we just liked the same work of fiction for a while. I keep thinking I’ve made a new best friend and then they get into some media I don’t like and the whole friendship kinda disappears.

[number-1-crush]

i want date girl

[preserve-or-raze]

my tags got out of hand

i keep thinking about hobbies and how i often spill over myself to pick up new ones. i have adhd, i end up trying something for like a month and then just getting far enough in it that i move on, satisfied.

and that should be fine; but it's never fine.

i am a pretty decent artist; but i can't just make art for my dnd campaign, i should be selling dnd maps and character designs and scene setting pieces. i can't just make my friends matching earrings, i need to get an etsy and ship them internationally and take bulk orders. i make pretty good props and decorations and use them to throw my friends parties - but i should be running a party planning business and start taking paying clients and networking and putting my skills to actual use.

for some reason, i never figured out the specifics of pottery. it was a fun class and i enjoyed myself - and still, i'm embarrassed, years later, that i put in all that useless effort. everything i make has to be stunning. stellar. i should have applied myself more. maybe i'm too lazy. maybe i'm broken and selfish and needy. actually creative people would have kept going; they would be bettering themselves at every possible opportunity.

we find ourselves in this trap, even accidentally: we need to commodify our time, because it is a commodity. if we spend our efforts and our time not earning, isn't that the same thing as burning free money? and god forbid you ever take up a hobby that ends up being more expensive than you thought. you sit in your car and you look at the receipt and in your head you hear a conversation that isn't even happening - your mom or your friend or your partner all saying oh great. not this shit again. it's always something with you, and it never actually means anything.

i have realized this horrible thing, recently - i'll get excited to start a project, pick up a new hobby. and then i just... stop myself. i start thinking about the amount of time it will take, and how it'll look in my monthly budget. what if i can't even produce a good enough final product. sure, it's exciting to think about how i could make my friend her own custom dice. but i'm just polluting the earth if i don't get it right. better not bother. better not try.

restless, i get caught in the negative space. the feeling that oh god, i want to create. and that horrible sense - yeah, but i don't have the time to just put to waste.

[capyclub]

sometimes it’s more stressful for things to be on the verge of working out than it is for them to not be working out at all

[a-passing-storm]

I am trying so hard to use my Teacher’s Pet status to convince my substitute for sociology that “racism comes from evil” isn’t a very productive or sociological way of looking at racism, and it is killing me!