#Assigning some 🎵

[ma-tsu-the-male-goddess]

🎵

Hi Wolf! sorry it took so long for me to answer, I usually don't use desktop lol

Got a few different options for you - hope these aren't too on the nose 🐺 !

Alpha by Little Destroyer

claws by Charli XCX

Popular Monster by Falling in Reverse

Savage Love (Laxed - Siren Beat) by Jawsh 685 & Jason Derulo

Wolf by Ivan Campo

Wolf in Sheep's Clothing by Set It Off

Spotify links under the cut

Send me a 🎵 & I'll assign you a song! (or 6)

@wolfsummoner

[tulsa24]

i was 5 years old when speak now came out & now, i’m 18.

[lovinpelova]

courtside | n. mühl

summary; when nika makes a promise she fulfils it. [SMUT]

🎵 everyday hustle - future

nika had already found her footing on american soil by the time you met, the only indicators she wasn't born in the states was her last name and accent if she spoke for long enough. you'd been assigned as part of the media team to enhance your work experience in sports during your time at uconn, the fans and your lecturers loved the content you provided and always came crawling back for more, so you decided to have a one on one interview to satiate their hunger a little longer.

you'd chosen a player at random, landing on number ten after a moment of contemplation regarding which player number to pick and immediately had nika beckoning at your call. her coach informed her of what you planned on doing, waiting for her to catch her breath as she stood with a heaving chest and hands on hips, licking her lips with hooded eyes focused solely on you. she nodded her head in understanding and introduced herself, shaking your hand formally before making a mental note of your name so she could stalk your instagram later on- that plan was executed perfectly when she asked for your number after the interview and gained your username after a couple hours of texting.

fans could tell that nika was flirting with you from the moment it started, going crazy in comments and posting all over tiktok about the way she looked at you or subtly complimented something referring to you. no matter what, nika was finding a way to steer the interview towards you, wanting to find out everything possible and not being sneaky about it in the slightest. time flew by and before you knew it you'd been together four years with nika playing her last college game, getting ready to be drafted into the wnba with you by her side.

the tough opponent was iowa in the final four, nika rearing to go and jumping in her spot since the moment she woke up for multiple reasons. she wanted to prove herself, she was one step closer to the championship game and had just been informed that the wnba were going to draft her. you couldn't be happier for your girlfriend, she'd been going on and on for years about how when she goes pro all her sacrifices were going to be worth it and she'd be able to spoil everyone she loved with the new opportunities she'd have for them.

right now, you were sitting courtside with a camera in your hand to take an occasional flick of the game. iowa truly were a tough team - you'd never seen uconn struggle like this before - but the championship game was still in sight for you all.

then the fourth quarter came along.

nothing was working anymore, iowa was clicking like puzzle pieces and caitlin clark was on the move. nika bagged assist after assist and rebounded as much as she possibly could with a gorgeous three-pointer but the buzzer had to come at some point; and it ended with iowa up by two.

of course she was upset, you were the first person she came to with tears on the verge of spilling down her cheeks and her fingers clutching the uconn '10' jersey you wore, your arms tight around her in every way she needed. either way she'd made it to the final four and played immaculately, you reminded her of that before she congratulated iowa and on the way home whenever she spoke bad about herself.

"i'mma win everything for you."

the croatian mumbled as she inhaled your scent, pulling you further into her with her head on your chest. she breathed out deeply in comfort when your fingers found their way to her hair and scratched lightly, egging her to continue.

"you're not gonna see me lose ever again. gonna go pro and everything's gonna change,"

"i don't doubt that for a second moja djevojka."

nika smiled and chuckled into your chest at the sound of croatian rolling off your tongue, knowing her odd tutoring lessons were paying off with the way you perfectly pronounced one of her favourite nicknames.

"and before you know it, you're gonna be moja žena. watching every game, getting anything you want- stuck with me whether you like it or not."

"you know i wouldn't want it any other way, moja žena. go to sleep niks, i'll be here when you wake up."

--------

a year after uconn lost to iowa, nika had stayed true to her word. she was going pro either way, but now you were basically on the verge of engagement with the way she was hinting towards marriage recently and she'd remained consistent in her career. she'd lost a few games here and there but had made up for it by winning the league already with seattle, earning a spot in the all-wnba team and being named defensive player of the year with the odd sponsorship deal coming her way.

nika truly was living up to her words, she made you feel loved every day and reminded you of that before she left for training until the moment she fell asleep with you in her arms. she'd talk nonsense about how badly she wanted you to be her wife, the pout on her lips being kissed away when you shut her down to remind her that she was too busy for such a big commitment right now, because she knew you were right. still, she had the ring hidden in her sock drawer for safekeeping.

she'd had the odd day off and always decided to spend it with you, loving your company more than any other option she had thrown her way. right now she was laying comfortably on your chest, large figure draped over yours to supply warmth no blanket could ever match as you binged your latest shared obsession on television. you'd just finished editing some shots for seattle storm not long ago, your studies paying off and gaining you an excessive interest in job prospects when you sent your folder out- but of course you had to go for seattle, it was perfect.

"i can't wait to marry you."

a murmur vibrated your chest from none other than the woman melting into your hold, your arms tightening around her as you laughed lightly in response.

"we've still got plenty of time for that."

"i keep gettin' asked about you though, makes me think about it more."

your hands tangled into her hair and gently scratched at her scalp, feeling her fingers tighten around your waist and pull you towards her as she sighed into you.

"n' what do you say?"

nika smiled as she lifted her head up, watching your hands fall to her shoulders before she gently lifted your left ring finger to her lips and kissed it with her eyes locked on yours. you grinned at the intimate action and saw her smile lightly in return, other hand caressing her face lovingly.

"i tell them you're gonna be my wife before they know it."

"every time?"

nika nodded her head enthusiastically, both of you grinning madly as she leaned in to kiss you gently.

"every time."

she mumbles against your lips, vibrations making you smile into the kiss before you wrapped your arms around her neck to pull her closer and deepen it.

"you're gonna have to show me some of these interviews."

"i'd rather show you how well i plan on treating my wife for the rest of our lives together."

nika mumbled into your neck as she kissed down it fondly, hands crawling up your shirt and tugging on it with your nails scratching her back lightly. you threw your head back to allow her more access and felt her smile into you, pulling away to slowly peel the fabric off your body as your hands pawed at her shirt to do the same, eyes immediately scanning her body as she leaned up and took it off above you. she noticed your gaze and smirked, grabbing your hands and guiding them along her toned stomach with a cocky smile whilst letting your hands wander on their own.

you quickly sat up and trailed your lips along her abs, dipping your fingers into the curve of her spine so she arched into you with a soft gasp. nika let her hands tangle into your hair gently as she stared down in admiration, mouth open to let out heavy breaths that left her stomach heaving against your lips.

"baby,"

the croatian breathed out before licking her lips, jaw hanging low with how you were mouthing at her skin.

"tonight's gonna be about you, not me."

you heard her withhold a groan when your tongue sloppily licked its way up from her hips to the bra she wore, the point guard grasping your shoulders and weakly attempting to push you down. your mouth was doing wonders on her skin and it drove her wild, the strength she always bore withering away as she leaned back onto her heels and adjusted herself to be sitting upright against the back of the couch. your lips forcefully detached from her skin and both of you let out a matching whine, thighs going either side of her waist to let her hands guide you closer whilst she initiated a heavy kiss.

nika soon grew impatient, beginning to push and pull your hips in a rocking motion and moaning once you got the hint. your body moved against hers as she trailed her lips down your neck, hand slapping her muscular back as you felt her start to suck before she squeezed your hip apologetically and went back to simple kisses trailing down your pulse point with a soft grin. as much as you loved your girlfriend, covering up hickeys from her endeavours was a nightmare.

"why can't it be about the pro baller?"

you quietly breathed out, hands pushing her further into your collarbone by the back of her head. the brunette moaned into you at the mention of her occupation and pulled away to look up at you with swollen lips, chest heaving for air whilst she wore a cocky smirk.

"'cus it's about the pro ballers wife."

nika trailed sloppy kisses down the space between your breasts before you could respond, pulling at the strap of your bra and letting it snap against your skin to signal she wanted it off. you reached behind yourself and unclipped the bra as quickly as possible, nika trailing her fingertips under the straps to slowly peel them down your arms before tossing the material elsewhere in your shared apartment. hearing her breath out heavily as she stared shamelessly at your chest, your face grew red whilst she licked her lips hungrily and began to let her hands wander.

the croatian looked into your eyes for a moment of consent and gladly received what she was looking for, ducking her head down to connect her mouth with one of your nipples whilst her hand gently massaged your other breast. she teased her teeth against your skin and urged you to arch further into her, free hand dipping into the curve of your back as she kissed along your chest to pay the other side attention.

"niks, baby..."

the mention of her favourite nickname pulled her head from your chest, inquisitive puppy eyes staring up at you. heaving breaths left her swollen lips and she continued to let her hands trail around your back, gently massaging your hips whilst tugging at the back of your shorts in a needy manner.

"please baby,"

she murmured, head moving towards your neck once more to trail kisses down your pulse point and along your collarbone, internally grinning when you pushed her closer at the feeling of her lips sucking marks into your skin.

"molim- trebam te. želim te osjetiti, moja cura, da?"

nika began rambling in croatian whilst she nuzzled her nose into your upper chest, placing kisses between every other word and pulling you closer to show her desperation.

"da, mala- da."

your immediate response in her mother tongue made nika swell with pride at how good of a language tutor she was proving to be, quick kisses being placed down your torso before she effortlessly flipped you onto your back and positioned her body between your legs.

"nika,"

you whined as she continued to trail her hands aimlessly, her head popping up from your stomach in concern.

"shorts off and stay up here. želim te poljubiti."

your dirty talk transitioning into croatian made her groan audibly, hands pawing at your shorts and underwear after she seeked one last look of approval before tearing them off and throwing them behind her carelessly. breathing laboured as she leaned in to kiss you passionately, your hands tangled into her hair and she pushed her hips down, cursing against your mouth as she felt you throb against her.

"jebi bebu. needing me, huh?"

her croatian accent making a strong appearance when she switched back to english made your hips buck into her as you eagerly nodded your head with a whine, eyes boring into hers whilst she wore a smirk. nika grinned and leaned in to kiss you softly, digits tracing the outline of your body as she trailed them along your hipbone and towards your centre, gasping into your mouth once she felt how wet you were.

"god, it's been so long since i've had you like this."

you almost whimpered in response to her voice mumbling against your lips, all thoughts of everything and anything else being cut off when nika dipped a finger into your arousal and pulled it out to rub circles over your clit. your eyes closed in pleasure as the croatian rested her forehead against yours, watching your facial expressions intently with pride bubbling up through her at the soft moans you were beginning to let out.

"niks,"

you murmured whilst reaching up for a kiss, nika gladly reciprocating passionately as she hummed in response for you to continue. her fingers didn't let up, placing more pressure by the second before dipping into your arousal to tease.

"i need you inside me baby."

the brunette groaned with her eyes shutting in pleasure, the buck of your hips pushing her back into the moment as she pressed a finger into you. nika slowly thrusted in a steady rhythm as she prepared you for a second finger (knowing you wouldn't be able to finish no matter how deep her singular long digit was able to reach) whilst she continued to rub her thumb over your sensitive clit and kiss along your neck.

she revelled in the soft moans of her name you were letting fall from your lips, hands clutching her bare back and feeling the way her shoulder would move or flex as she thrusted as you groaned in response. you took the opportunity to feel her toned body once more, hands travelling all over the chiselled muscles she'd earned from hours in the gym and shamelessly squeezing where you felt them flex as she slowly sunk a second finger into you.

"that's it ljubav. takin' me so well- that's it, good fuckin' girl."

"nika, god..."

you trailed off into a breathless moan as your girlfriend perked her head up to level yours at the mention of her name, smiling proudly as you returned the grin and moved a hand to pull her into a sweet kiss. the croatian gradually picked up her pace and swallowed your moans with ease, watching the way your body responded to every twitch of her fingers as she slowly began rubbing them against your g-spot with every thrust.

"baby!"

you yelled out in surprise, hips bucking into hers as she continued to abuse your cunt. your nails raked down her back to feel the muscles flexing as she fucked you, eyes momentarily closing in pleasure whilst her back arched into you at the feeling of your fingertips trailing down her spine, both of you now chest to chest with your hand pulling her forehead to your own to maintain the intimacy and keep her close.

"so beautiful, sound so pretty for me. good girl."

you whined in response to her praise with your nails digging into her shoulderblades, relishing in the quiet moans she let out as her fingers continued to pleasure you skillfully.

"god you feel so good princess,"

with your heads pressed together, nika nudged your shoulder to prompt you into opening your eyes and keeping them locked on her own, knowing how much you loved eye contact. the croatian continued her deep strokes as you saw her shoulder moving rapidly in the corner of your eye, your body jolting up and down with the force she was using to drive you into an orgasm. matching smiles grew on your faces as your moans picked up in frequency and volume, nika watching in awe and bringing her other hand down to stimulate your clit.

"gonna be my wife, watching every one of my games courtside. gonna give you everything you've ever wanted, win trophies for you, take you to award ceremonies, walk fuckin' red carpets with you. all that shit- i'm doin' it with you."

"yeah niks- as long as it's with you, that's all that matters."

the point guard pulled you into a passionate kiss as she felt you tighten around her fingers, gently coaxing you through your high and continuing her thrusts to help you ride it out with soft praises whispered into your ear, lips scattering kisses all over your body. your hands dug into her muscular back and eventually relaxed, still keeping a grip as you calmed down to have one final feel of her muscles that she sadly never showed off.

"good job baby, did so well for me. such a good girl."

she whispered against your lips whilst leaving soft kisses every so often, both of you breathing heavily and calming down from the heated moment as she slowly pulled out, apologising for the discomforted whine that escaped you but immediately making up for it when she licked your arousal off her fingers.

"you're gonna be the death of me one day."

"wouldn't be a bad way to go, huh?"

"shut up and stop being so cocky."

you shoved her shoulder lightly as she mocked offense, sitting up to be hovering above you on her knees the same way she was when she took her shirt off earlier.

"can you blame me? i've got my girl feelin' me up and whenever i look in the mirror i see these guns. don't think i didn't feel those sneaky touches baby."

"shut up! you never let me touch them any other time- stop doing that!"

she started flexing her muscles in all the poses she could think of, pulling cocky faces to elicit a laugh from you as you shoved her stomach lightly to get her to stop, the croatian laughing with you. you shared a sweet kiss before she picked you up, wrapping your legs around her waist and bringing you to your shared bed before setting you down on the edge.

"what you needin'? food, water, a bath?"

she listed options of aftercare as she kneeled down in between your legs, relishing in the way your hands tangled into her hair when she peppered kisses along your naked form.

"just need you niks."

"you sure?"

"m'sure."

you pulled her up with a smile as you got comfortable on the bed, pushing into her arms when she opened them for you and ensuring your bodies were as close as possible whilst you drifted off into sleep together, no doubt going to dream about finally marrying the love of your life.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

I Can Fix That... | Dr. Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary| She's the detective assigned to investigate one of Gotham's top villains, Falcone, but as she follows her leads, she uncovers a new suspect: Dr. Jonathan Crane. His charisma and good looks won't stand in the way of justice, or at least that's what she thinks.

Warnings| Mentions of self-harm in the beginning in accordance to the movie (Batman Begins 2005). Not explicitly discussed but implied sexist and misogynistic work environment. Some archaic language when discussing psychiatric hospitals bc I tried to follow the language that the movie used. Violence with needles, drugging someone. Gun is mentioned but not used. Knife is mentioned a lot but never used to inflict pain. Smut, dubious consent, unprotected sex, restraints.

word count: 6757k (long-ass story bc I didn't want to make separate posts)

Song for a Guilty Sadist- Crywank 🎶

Butch 4 Butch- Rio Romeo 🎵

IFHY (feat. Pharrell)- Tyler, The Creator 🎶

Please read warnings before continuing, thanks <3

i 

She had been following him for weeks, stealing into the shadows at every turn as Jonathan Crane walked through Gotham City’s Police Station. She’d been suspicious of him for months and with the men in the police force finally working up the nerve to investigate Gothem’s leading henchman, Falcone, she’d uncovered a theory that pointed simultaneously at the notorious psychiatrist. Of course, the men in her force had refused to believe her, reminding her of Crane’s long history with the department and work to establish Gothem’s Psychiatric Hospital for the Criminally Insane: Arkham Asylum. But the real reason why Crane had never been investigated was because of his status in the department of justice, and it didn’t hurt that the man was charismatic. He knew how to work the system to get what he wanted. 

Jonathan Crane had a reputation of declaring criminals insane after mere minutes of deliberation, especially those who happened to work with or for Falcone. She’d been in charge of carrying out Falcone’s case and taking him to trial as a detective for the prosecution. After being put in jail, Falcone had managed to slash his wrists just enough to draw attention and a little bit of blood. He was immediately flagged for psychiatric evaluation, bringing Jonathan Crane once again into the basement interrogation rooms to administer an interview. When he clamored down the steps onto the basement floor, she was waiting for him by the door into Falcone’s interrogation room.  

“Dr. Crane,” she greeted him with a smile, drawing every ounce of her long lost theater-kid days into play. 

“Miss —,” he remembered her name and shook her hand with a serious glint in his blue eyes, covered by harsh rectangular glasses. His handshake was firm and strong, and he made eye contact that still shook her even after speaking with him so many times before. She didn’t let it show, however, and nodded towards the door. 

“He cut his wrists last night during the changing of the guard but we don’t know how he even got access to the weapon that he used; and I’ve spoken with him numerous time since we processed him and he’s never given me any reason to suspect that he was mentally unstable, but of course, you are the professional. It’s better that he be evaluated anyway-”

“In case anything were to happen,” he finished for me and clenched his jaw. He gave a curt nod of his head and went inside, shutting the door behind him and drawing the blinds on the door closed. She scoffed quietly beneath her breath and clenched her fists. Don’t be fooled by his good looks or superior smile, she told herself, Jonathan Crane was capable of things that she didn’t know of yet. He was not someone to admire, he was someone to distrust. 

After only ten minutes of quiet murmuring, she could hear clear and blood curdling screams through the door. She knocked on the door, “Dr. Crane?” She called through the door but it opened in her face before she could do anything. He stood in the doorway, his dark hair falling into his pale, angular face. 

“He’s definitely what I would classify as mentally unstable,” he chuckled calmly as he side-stepped her and closed the door. He ran a hand through his hair and fixed the glasses perched on his nose. “I can’t treat him here, I’ll need to move him to Arkham.” 

“Are you sure?” She asked, more surprised than anything. He had started to walk down the hallway to the stairs when he turned around, stopping right in front of her face, his breath fanned across her face. 

“Are you questioning my diagnosis, detective?” He smirked, an underlying tone of warning below his wide-lipped smile. His blue eyes were unwavering as he studied her face, she swallowed to steady herself. 

“No, sir. Of course not.” She apologized and crossed her arms across her chest, ducking her head nervously. When she looked back up, his eyebrow was cocked. 

“Do I make you nervous, detective?” He smiled and she could tell he was setting a trap, attempting to make himself more likable, more trusting. As if he could be anything of the sort. She laughed lightly and met his eyes, holding his eye-contact defiantly. 

“No, sir.” She answered and he nodded. 

“Good day, Miss —.” He called with his back turned, walking to the stairs and climbing them quickly. She watched him leave and finally released a sigh of relief. There was something about him that unsettled her, but it was something that also attracted her with a devious strength, ripping factual and independent reasoning from her head. 

She had started following him when one of Falcone’s men had been moved to Arkham two weeks before. She switched her assignment for the day to escort the man to Arkham, getting a chance to see the asylum for herself. It was a large gothic building with a modern facade in the center of Gotham. The attendants at the door led the prisoner (or patient now) through the heavily guarded door into the hospital’s main ward that was closed to visitors. Even police or other officials had to obtain a special license that granted them clearance into the institution. The second time she’d stepped inside, she was following a few yards behind Crane, studying how he actually entered the building. They had a separate entrance for the asylum’s psychiatrists at the side of the building by the alley. She waited a few minutes for Crane to enter the building before she approached the guard stationed at the door and flashed her badge. He’d allowed her in but warned that he’d lose his job if he did it again. The next time she followed him, she would need a new method of entering the building, one that didn’t alert Crane that she was in the building in case he got suspicious. When she entered it was easier to blend in so she followed the maze of hallways until she reached a small hub with arrows guiding attendants to the different wards of the hospital. Dr. Crane’s office was included in the psychiatrist ward (funny they had their own ward). 

The psychiatrists each had their own labs, whether or not they used them was their own business, but she knew for sure that Crane used his but for what, she didn’t know. Walking down the hallway to his office, she peeked inside the wide panel of glass into his lab. He had one assistant who was copying his notes into a binder for Crane but quickly left when Crane shooed him away from the set of beakers and vials of powders he was working with. She flattened herself against the wall and pretended to answer a call on her phone as the assistant passed her in the hallway. She hurried to leave the institute, leaving through the same door she entered, thanking the security guard discreetly. 

This time as she watched Crane climb the stairs, she pulled aside a police officer and explained Falcone’s transfer. The officer nodded and left to initiate the transfer to Arkham, Falcone’s hysterical screams still audible through the thick steel door. Crane tugged at the starched collar of his shirt as he crossed the lobby of the police station, sighing in relief. Falcone had tried to corner him. Him! Falcone may have been powerful but he was stupid and Crane didn’t have patience for stupidity especially from someone who was supposed to be a criminal mastermind. News flash: he wasn’t. Falcone was sloppy and arrogant, he didn’t take his own threats seriously. He’d threatened to tell the police about Crane’s experimental drug concoctions but in reality, he still didn’t know the full extent of what Crane was planning to do to Gotham. 

“You don’t know anything,” Crane said pointedly, tired of Falcone’s attitude. 

“I know that half of the drugs we moved belong to you and the police still don’t know what they are or what they can do.” Falcone scratched his greasy nose. Crane almost laughed. He removed his glasses and sighed, reaching into his open briefcase. 

As soon as the words, “would you like to see my mask,” left his mouth, Falcone was done for. The only thing that had inspired a shred of panic for Crane was hearing the girl’s voice through the steel door, calling his name. He expected her to open the door and see his mask, and while he had an explanation that a normal officer would believe, he knew that she was different. He didn’t trust her but something about her made him laugh. She was good looking and smart but too invested in his work and he didn’t like that. He’d have to keep an eye on the young detective, Miss —. In fact, he’d like to strap her down… hide her away in his asylum and play with her head like he did with his other playthings - - - oops - - - patients. Same thing.

ii 

She pretended that her plan was straightforward, it was the only way that she could convince herself to go through with it. No one else in her department would have had the balls to sneak into the asylum where once you went in, you may not be able to leave, that is- if Dr. Crane diagnosed you accordingly. She left a note on her desk in her office, explaining where she was going and the evidence she had already collected. Photos, “destroyed” medical records, and recent missing shipments from cargo ships including one micro-wave machine meant for warfare. She made copies of everything and hid them away in a special box directed to the only person she really trusted in her department, Sgt. Gordon. Even if someone dumped the notes on her desk, Sgt. Gordon would find the box of evidence, she knew. Falcone had been transferred the day before and was nearing his second night in the institution, now was her time to investigate what he was planning to do to him and why. 

She stashed a small knife at her thigh, having learned that a woman had to carry multiple weapons in this city if she wanted to protect herself, which unfortunately, happened often. She checked her weapon and put it in her holster at the small of her back. She was wearing a gray quarter length top tucked into a black skirt. She pulled on her straight black leather coat and closed the door to her office, locking the door. She knew that Crane would be in his office, he almost never went home, and with Falcone there and at risk to disclose sensitive information, he would be sure to stay close by. 

The sun had already set hours before when she approached Arkham Asylum. Each window was bright with light but it didn’t make the building any more welcoming. She shivered as she approached the side door, seeing a different security guard at the door. He stood when she approached, not recognizing her.  

“Stand down, officer. I’m detective — on police business,” she showed him her badge.

“You’ll have to check in at the front, detective.” The officer sat back down with a nod. 

“My business here is strictly confidential; Dr. Crane said I could enter in this way.” She pointed at the side door and the officer looked nervously at her. He reached for his walkie-talkie. 

“I’m here about Falcone. I am the detective assigned to his case, he was transferred here two days ago. I’m supposed to meet with Dr. Crane about some of the things Falcone has said during his initial treatment. Because of the sensitivity of Falcone’s case in the department, as I’m sure you know, the department has asked that we keep this confidential. No one inside can know that I was here to meet about Falcone. We haven’t told the public yet that he’s been transferred here. Your compliance is necessary for this.” She lied out of her ass but the officer nodded slowly when she finished, his eyes widening at the mention of Falcone’s name. 

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry for delaying you. It’s just business.” 

“I understand completely, thank you officer.” She smiled kindly as the officer scanned her in. Once she was inside she hid her police badge and followed the path she had scouted days before, following the black arrows to the psychiatrist ward (again, funny that they had their own ward- almost as if they were patients themselves). Her black mary janes squeaked quietly as she finally turned onto the hallway where Dr. Crane’s office was located. A row of fluorescent bulbs flickered ominously and she rolled her eyes, silently cursing the asylum for its additional eeriness. His lab was empty and dark and his office was empty though the lights were still on. An assistant passed her, coming from a different lab with a pile of boxes in her arms. 

“Excuse me, do you know where Dr. Crane is right now?” She asked the assistant who shuffled the boxes in her arms to answer. 

“I saw him in the ward with the new transfer patients just before I picked these up, so he’s probably about to start a sit-down with a patient. Do you have an appointment with him?” She asked curiously, knowing it was too late for a business meeting. 

“No, I work in the office and I was going to request a few files to finish a transfer of a patient but it seems that he’s busy. I’ll try tomorrow morning. Thank you!” She smiled and the assistant nodded. 

“Have a nice night,” the assistant hurried off down the corridor into the hub. She wasted no time in checking the door to Crane’s office which was miraculously unlocked. She hurried inside and closed the door, making sure that she left everything as she had found it. The door to the lab was located inside Crane’s office, so she entered the lab through the office. The blinds were closed to the outside so she opened the flashlight on her phone and scanned the dark lab tables for the powders she had seen before. The room smelled heavily of chemicals and cleaning solution and it was hard to breathe normally already because she was nervous. The first table was empty of anything but the second was set up for what looked to be his next round of testing. A box that looked like a closed mouse trap was set up on the table. There was a single switch on the top of the box which she knew better than to turn but she examined it nonetheless, hoping to see what it may contain. A tray of petri dishes full of powder sat beside it. Each was marked with a different series of numbers and letters, denoting their different status, she assumed. She recognized the series on one of the dishes: F7jw009. The number had appeared on the list of drugs recovered from Falcone’s drug transport. It was one that hadn’t yet been tested to see what it was composed of. She didn’t recognize the two other dishes but she assumed the powder and the mousetrap device were used for the same thing.

There was a small bookcase attached to the base of the lab table and she crouched, scanning the spines. The books on the top, free of dust, were on phobias. A bound scientific paper on the chemical structure of fear sat on top of the textbooks. She picked it up and flipped through the pages, noticing strokes of pen and notes on many of the pages. In the centerfold of the paper, she saw a picture of a cartoon scarecrow, one from a halloween decoration. It looked like it had been ripped from a kid’s storybook. She stared at the picture, struggling to place where she had heard about a scarecrow before in the precinct… she flipped farther through the pages and landed on a second photo shoved between the pages. It was a drawing of a mask made of burlap. The mask resembled a scarecrow’s face, she furrowed her eyebrows, more uneasy. Finally, she flipped to the very end where she found a clear note detailing what Crane thought the synopsis of the paper had been: 

Fear can be constructed using a series of complex compounds and put into an admissible form. They have already invented serums that temporarily remove the presence of fear by blocking certain receptors in the brain that receive signals of distress or pain. By doing the very opposite, temporarily numbing the receptors that calm the nervous system when danger has been averted, fight or flight is heightened and the human mind is more susceptible to the suggestion of danger and terror. Fear merely needs to be suggested to elicit a response after the brain is prepped for the reaction. Fear can be weaponized. Building the compounds of fear into a powder, the drug can be administered immediately into the air and receive a simultaneous reaction. Pills? Water? How can we distribute this powder? What is the easiest way to administer fear to the entire population? 

iii 

The distinct click of a door opening and closing shocked her back to attention. She put the bound paper back onto the shelf and switched off the light on her phone. In the dark she scrambled into a hidden alcove inside the lab behind one of the hooded chemical boxes. She was pretty sure that the lab’s closet would be shared with the lab next door but she couldn’t remember which side of the room it was on. Dr. Crane had gone into his office and removed his suit jacket. He was too excited by Falcone’s reaction to his fear serum in powder form and he needed to get a handle on himself. It was nearly midnight when he checked his watch. Most of his colleagues would be gone by now, just the night staff remained to look after the patients. Night was the perfect time to work undisturbed in his lab, especially because his assistant couldn’t know the full extent of his research into the chemical compounds of human fear. He slipped his coat over the back of his desk chair and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows. 

He exhaled slowly and removed a stack of papers from his desk, flipping through them as he opened the door into his lab and kicked the door closed with the heel of his shoe. His elbow flicked on the lightswitch and he spread out the papers on the first lab table, seemingly absorbed by the chemical structures his assistant had prepared for him to review. He scribbled a note in red pen on the corner of the document, berating his assistant for his obvious mistake with one of the compound structures. What was this? High school chemistry class? He licked his thumb and turned the page, writing another note in the margin. 

“I know you’re here, Miss —.” He smiled, not looking up from his notes. He tossed the first set of pages further down the table and moved to the next one. “You and your perfume… I can always tell where you’ve been by your scent. I don’t think you’re naive enough to wear perfume in your field, especially when on your little jaunts into other people’s business. So, the lovely smell is from your shampoo, I venture. You use an expensive brand of shampoo because you think that your hair is your best attribute, and I agree, it's one of the best. Your job makes you feel dirty too, doesn’t it? This city makes you feel dirty and so you wash your hair every night with the same sulfate-free shampoo to get the smell of our city out of your system. Your shampoo smells like mint and you like it the best because it makes your head feel cleaner, tingly,” he laughed and moved to the next stack of stapled papers. “And that’s why you chose this job, a detective, because you feel like you’re cleaning up our streets; removing all of the bad blood of Gotham but it’s been a disappointment to say the least. The system is backwards, though you knew that from the beginning, you thought you could fix it. You want things to be right and I don’t blame you, so do I.” 

Dr. Crane finished writing a note on the last paper and capped the pen. He circled the table once before moving to the second table. 

“I’m cleaning the city in my own way, I guess you could say. This city needs a restart button, a way to begin everything again and start fresh. Fear can do that, fear can be controlled and it controls.” 

She could barely breathe, her back was pressed against the wall of his lab. She was scared and she knew that he knew. Fear was his thing, his kink and she anticipated the absolute worst as she waited out her fate, wondering how long it would take for him to find her or if she could manage to escape. 

“This machine can diffuse the compounded form of fear. I’ve used it on most of your suspects, all of them Faclone’s men. I even used it on Falcone himself. Oh, I wish you could have seen his face! The second the powder entered his system he abandoned the arrogant criminal persona, he reverted back to who he was at his very core. He was suddenly controllable and easy to manage. So you see how this could be used to clean up Gotham. It’s a way to seize back control of our city, take it away from the people who run it now; the sycophants and billionaires.” 

Crane pulled a needle from the drawer at his hip and flicked the glass tube. Her chest rose and fell in a state of panic. Dr. Crane leaned against the counter calmly. 

“That’s why you like me. I’m clean. I’m orderly and smart. I’m the opposite of the criminal justice system that reminds you of this dirty city. And, Y/N, that’s why I like you.”

She tensed at his use of her first name. She’d never heard him use it before and it sent a chill down her spine. She reached for her gun. Dr. Crane rounded the corner and stabbed the needle into her neck, pushing the tranquilizer into her bloodstream. She wobbled before slumping back against the wall. She managed to push past him and run for the office door but the drugs worked almost immediately and her legs began to go numb. She couldn’t feel anything below her waist and she worried that he would break her legs running without being able to feel which bones she was using to get away. She collapsed on the floor of the lab and looked up at Dr. Crane who smiled down at her, his hair disheveled. 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he cooed and crouched at her feet, “I applaud you for your efforts. You may have succeeded had I not recognized the smell of your shampoo. I know you’ve been here before. You’re a smart girl but I won this game, and the victor gets the spoils. That’s how it works, Miss —.” He crawled over her and pulled the needle from her neck. She didn’t even feel it. Her hair that he loved so much was fanned out on the floor, falling in loose curls. He twirled a curl between his fingers and nodded approvingly. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll treat you with the utmost respect. Afterall, you are my colleague, of sorts,” he shrugged and stood up, straddling her. “It’s a pity that you became a detective. You would have done well in this bloodthirsty field because,” he disappeared for a moment and returned with a set of keys which he slipped into his front pocket, “you’re like me.” 

He pulled her up and put one of her arms around his shoulder, supporting the brunt of her weight that way. Though he was small and lanky, he was muscular and strong. He dragged her through the door in his lab that connected to a separate room that she hadn’t even noticed. He flipped the light switch with his elbow and sighed with pleasure when the room was lit up with light. 

“Here it is. This is where the real fun happens, Y/N. This is where I test my new treatments on our most psychotic patients. Falcone will be here soon, perhaps tomorrow once you and I finish our discussion.” The room was smaller than the lab and housed what looked like a mortuary slab. She tried to scream but her mouth was numb. He dragged her to the table and lifted her onto the flat surface. The numerous straps he buckled around her waist, her wrists, and her feet. When she was secured onto his table, he pushed a peddle at his foot which titled the table forward, propping her more upright. 

“Ah, and now I can finally see you,” Dr. Crane smiled and moved her hair so that it was caught behind her back. He straightened her hair against her chest, running his fingers through the strands. He moved a stool in front of the table and sat on it, his legs spread and his arms across against his chest. “Do I make you nervous now, detective?” He smirked and chuckled darkly when she couldn’t respond. “It will wear off soon. It’s one of those doses that act quickly but then wear off just as quickly. I wouldn’t do anything to you while you were in this state. What kind of man would I be if I did that?” 

He watched her for a few minutes, his bright blue eyes trailing up and down her body. She knew what that look meant from men. Her gun was so close and yet she knew she wouldn't be able to reach it even when she regained control over her body. While he waited, he arranged numerous tools and vials around the room, humming softly to himself. She could feel herself starting to get feeling back in her stomach as the blood recirculated from her heart. Her hands and her feet took the longest to twitch awake. She dropped her head from left to right, groaning in the absence of words. Dr. Crane came back and checked her pulse, pinching her wrist and counting the seconds on his watch. 

“Good girl, you’re coming back. Can you speak yet?” He supported her chin with his hand and when she didn’t answer he nodded. “That’s all right. You’re all right.” He soothed her and she couldn’t help but relax as his eyes checked over her. “Now, Miss —, where are your weapons?” He posed the question theoretically and touched her, she flinched beneath his hands. He felt around her waist and inside her jacket. “There aren’t many places to hide it.” He whispered and wrapped his hands around her waist, finding the gun at the small of her back. “Ah, here it is.” He smiled as he took the gun from its holster and tossed it onto a small lab table. “You have something else, don’t you. You’re smart so of course, you have a second weapon.”  He licked his lips, thinking but it didn’t take him long to trail his hands up her thighs, glancing up into her eyes as he did. Her skirt rose as he felt below it and soon, his fingers were on top of the knife’s handle. 

“What do we have here?” He lifted her skirt, showing the knife’s hiding place at the top of her thigh. “This is honestly almost funny so forgive me if I laugh.” He ripped the knife from the holster and she cried out as much as she could, terrified by his quick movement. He let her skirt fall back into place and twirled the knife in his hand, examining the small blade. “You’ve just made my night so much more interesting, Miss —.” He smirked darkly. 

iv 

She finally regained her ability to speak though her words were jumbled and hard to get out around her tongue.

“Use your words, honey.” Dr. Crane frowned frustratedly. 

“Please…” she managed, “don’t… hurt… me.” She pushed the words out and he listened carefully. 

“Oh but it’s so hard to resist when you so willingly came here and with your own weapons. Can you see how this might be hard for me?” He furrowed his brow as he spoke and she couldn’t tell what was sarcasm and what was real. 

“It was nothing personal… I had a job to do.” She whispered weakly and he cocked his head, his lips parted. 

“You know it's funny because Falcone’s men all said the same thing. I know you didn’t work with them… but I can make it look like you did.” He whispered close to her face and her chest clenched with fear. “I can do whatever I want, do you understand? I have the power to say that you checked yourself in and I evaluated you. I found you on the verge of a psychotic breakdown because we all know you were already prone to hysterics. But your office shouldn’t worry because I’ll be your psychiatrist. And so what if you happen to disappear- go missing? No one comes in here, except for you, and that was stupid.” 

“You might die tonight, detective. I’m sorry to say it because you are one of the most attractive women I have met in Gotham and I fear that you have ruined our chances of continuing this to a second date.” He studied the curvature of her clavicle as it dipped above her sternum. Not knowing what else to do, she kissed him. Dr. Crane stiffened as her lips met his. He pulled away, stopping short a few inches from her mouth.

“What are you doing?” He raised his eyebrow. 

“If I’m going to die, I might as well make the most of it,” she shrugged and kissed him again, her head leaning as far forward as she could reach. She hoped that she sounded truthful enough. He pulled away again and stared at her, his forehead creased as he watched her. She panted softly, straining against her restraints. Her cheeks were flushed and her chest had broken out into hives from the stress. Fear made her even more beautiful. Going against his better judgment, he leaned forward into her and kissed her hesitantly. Slowly, he began to kiss her more aggressively, his tongue dragging against the roof of her mouth before he captured her top lip in a deep kiss. Her hands instinctively went to reach for his hair but they snapped back against the table. He broke away, panting, and took a few steps back, resting his back against the wall. 

“I don’t trust you,” he put his hands on his hips, still holding the knife. 

“What can I do, Jonathan?” She tried using his first name and he raised an eyebrow again, “I can’t move, no one can hear me scream, you’re going to kill me… what reason is there left to trust me? So, either kiss me or go ahead and kill me.” She nearly cried, overwhelmed and terrified. Her plan had been to seduce him, to use most men’s fatal flaw against him, but she worried that it wouldn’t work with Dr. Jonathan Crane. In a way, she had planned for this. The evidence was back in her office waiting to be discovered. She hadn’t gotten a chance to take pictures of the lab but maybe depending on how far he went with this, she could get away. But God, even though she was terrified and held on a slab against her will, he was beautiful. He was looking at her with his aquamarine eyes, his black hair gelled and falling around his face. Even his glasses looked perfect on his face. 

“Jonathan…” she started with a shakily voice, “despite why I came today and what you’ve told me about what you want to do to Gotham, right now, more than anything, I want you to come here and kiss me because while I may hate you and you may be the cause of my death, I want you. Give me some comfort if you’re going to take everything away from me.” 

“Freud would have some things to say about you, Y/N.” He pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose and studied the edge of the knife. “Your psychology is so interesting,” he flicked his eyes up to her’s and set the knife down on the table. “To study you…” he trailed off as he loosened his tie and ripped it from his neck. He approached her, standing far enough away that she couldn’t reach him with her mouth. She exhaled, waiting. “I almost studied anatomy,” he pushed a hand against her navel, holding her even more in place. 

“Why didn’t you?” She whispered. 

“I loved the human mind too much to abandon it,” he smiled and drew a hand up her thigh. Her muscles spasmed beneath his hand. He leaned in against her ear, “I know you’re scared of me,” he whispered calmly, “and isn’t that incredible? That you can be so afraid of something that you want so much?” His hand pulled down her underwear and it stretched between her open thighs, held apart by the restraints. His hand went further still, gently tracing the folds of her labia. She knew that she was wet and it embarrassed her, though she knew it helped confirm her story that she wanted him, he didn’t seem to care either way. His thumb rubbed her clit as he slowly inserted his middle finger into her, pushing past the initial resistance. She always hated fingering because it didn’t feel like how people pretended it did. That being said, she sighed as he gently inserted a second finger and pulled against the top of her cunt, fingering her slowly. 

“The body holds fear because our bodies hold memories,” he explained as he pressed her clit harder. “I can find what really scares you and I can fix it.” 

“I’m scared of you,” she whispered, her breath escaping in a sharp pant. 

“I can fix that.” 

He pulled his fingers out of her and held her neck still against the table as he kissed her. The sense of urgency to fight and escape melted into an afterthought when the back of his hand slid slowly down one side of her neck, making the tendons flex. He held her neck still as he kissed down to her collarbones, licking their shelves and tracing the bone with his tongue. His free hand groped her breast over her tight shirt and then surrounded her waist. She started shifting her hips back and forth, wishing that she had something between them to relieve the pressure she felt. He smiled against her skin and clicked his tongue, pulling away from her. He pressed the pedal again with his foot and the table reclined once again as it had been. He climbed onto the table and sat above her on his knees, looking down at her as she panted. 

“Look at me,” he told her and made sure that her eyes met his. “I have no plans to kill you tonight and I know this act is solely for the benefit of your own survival. But knowing that I will not kill you, would you like to change your mind?” He put both hands around her waist, showing the pale flesh of his forearms. She tried to weigh her options, she tried to think clearly but it all felt like a dream. It didn’t feel real enough to have consequences, so she shook her head and licked her lips quickly.

“No, keep going.” She whispered, “please.” Dr. Crane chuckled lightly and trailed his fingers down to her ankles. 

“In that case, would you like to see my mask?” He smiled darkly, teasing her. 

“No, I want to see your face.” She answered calmly and he nodded. 

“Fine.” He removed the restraints around her ankles. He took the knife from the table and cut away her underwear with one strong swipe of the blade. She gasped and he smirked, “I’m a doctor, remember? I know how to use a knife, detective.” 

He put the knife aside and pulled her knees up, sitting between them. He unbuckled his pants and withdrew his erection, glistening with precum. He guided himself into her with his hand, his eyes never leaving her face. She gasped again as he entered her. He rocked his hips slowly back and forth and groaned, watching her mouth open in a silent moan. She raised her knees higher, closer to her chest, giving him a better angle at which to fuck her. His hands pressed against her stomach and his thrusts became faster as his body began to learn hers. 

“You’re getting wetter,” he observed with a sly smile, “I must be doing something right.” He teased her as he started to rub her clit with his thumb, the rest of his hand pressed against her uterus. She couldn’t even speak. It had been months since she’d last had sex and even then, it wasn’t good sex. “I’m going to go harder but you can take it,” he told her matter of factly and placed either hand by her hips on the table. Leaning forward he shifted his hips slowly but harder, going deeper without much care for how her body adapted to the thrusts. “There you go,” he grunted as his hips bucked rhythmically into hers. She cried out, her body sliding up and down against the table, hot with her perspiration. Holding onto the top of the table, he moved farther up, pushing more inside of her, and started thrusting fast. He was suddenly in so deep and only backing away a few inches before snapping back in. Her hips bounced off of his and she gripped the excess material around her wrists to help her stay stationary. 

“Slow… God, please! Slow down… its so much, fuck.” She whimpered and smiled down at her face, flushed and angry with red. He slowed his hips, squeezing his glutes together whenever he thrusted inside. He leaned down and kissed her slowly, still rocking in and out of her. Her body shuttered from the high and started to build a more even climax. She hummed against his lips, her voicing getting higher as she started to orgasm. 

“And here comes the orgasm,” Jonathan smiled and sped up slightly, leaving hickies up and down her neck. She orgasmed with a shuttering cry that she couldn’t cover with her hand, but he didn’t let her finish there. “Fuck, you got so tight again.” He groaned as she panted, her system overwhelmed with waves of pleasure and exertion. She started to tighten further around him as her thighs squeezed his hips. Her breath left her lungs in short pants and she moaned beneath him like a pitiful creature. “Are you cumming again?” He laughed and stroked her cheek. She nodded weakly and he kissed her again briefly. 

“Its so tight, fuck. I won’t last much longer like this.” He took her hips in his hands and started a steady rhythm, pulling her hips onto his cock and thrusting at the same time. She came around him and he groaned animalistically, his thrusts becoming more sporadic and needy. He watched her breasts bounce inside her shirt and how he slid in and out of her, her cum collecting at the base of his shaft. Finishing with fast, desperate movements, he moaned loudly. She felt him finish inside her and it felt almost better than if she had finished herself. He pulled down her bottom lip with his thumb and admired her fucked-out face. Her pupils were shot and she shook slightly from the high. Finally, he pulled out and stuffed himself back into his pants. He sighed as he straightened his clothes and ran a hand through his hair. He took the gun and the knife and stuffed them both into a drawer and locked it with a set of keys from his pocket. They stared at each other for a while until Jonathan broke the silence, clearing his throat. 

“You’re coming home with me tonight, Miss —. We’ll decide what to do with you later.” 

[petite-gloom]

i’ve been drawing some new halloween-edition ghosts and assigning them my favourite spooky songs 🎃🎵

[hidiustd]

29.05.2024 — finals season

went to the main campus of the university for the first time in a very long time, cause we mostly study online and my faculty campus is on the other side of the city. forgot that it's very beautiful here

attended my besties' dance performance, so daisies, which she likes (you have no idea how long i've been trying to make the bouquet look nice)

rushed all day, but ended up writing only half of my course paper. i was gonna write all night, but in the end i decided that sleep is more important to me, even if it's only for a few hours, than some assignment so whatever

🎵: part of me — katy perry

[hendersister]

that's all

summary: steve is concerned when he finds out that you're going to start tutoring billy.

pairing: steve harrington x henderson!sister reader

title 🎵: that's all by genesis

You’ve just finished grabbing some books out of your locker before first period starts. You close your locker and turn to see Steve Harrington approaching you. Your eyes widen. What is he doing here?

Even though you and Steve had become friends while you helped save the world last fall, you both still mainly stick with your different cliques during school hours. Steve’s social status has gone down a bit over the past year, but he’s still popular. He just won “Best Hair” in his senior class superlatives. Steve is one of the cool kids and you definitely are not. As president of the National Honor Society, a tutor and only girl in the school’s Mathlete team, you are considered a nerd in the Hawkins High social hierarchy. It’s all very The Breakfast Club.

“Hey Steve! What’s going on? You lost?” you joke.

Steve’s locker is at the other side of the school. This is the first time Steve’s visited you at your locker.

“What? No!” Steve shakes his head, and then, “Hendseron told me that you’re gonna start tutoring Billy Hargrove. Is it true?”

You nod. The only reason you were assigned to be Billy’s tutor is because you’re the best tutor at this school. Billy is on academic probation and needs to get his grades up if he wants to play on the basketball team next season. In rural Indiana, high school basketball means everything. You didn’t really have a choice in the matter. If you said no, you mostly likely would’ve faced some repercussions. 

“Yeah. He was just assigned to me. We have our first tutoring session tomorrow during study hall,” you explain.

Steve sighs. He looks concerned.

“C’mon, Y/N, do you really think that’s a good idea? Billy’s an asshole. Remember when he got violent with the kids? I mean, Billy’s a piece of shit…” 

You take a deep breath. Remember when he got violent with the kids? Of course you remember! How could you forget? Billy attacked Dustin’s friend Lucas at the Byers’ house a few months ago. He was scary and aggressive. Steve had to intervene to protect Lucas and the rest of the kids. The fight between Billy and Steve was rough. Steve lost that fight but won your respect. You were impressed and proud of Steve for keeping the kids safe.

“Yeah I know,” you quietly agree, “It’s not like I asked to tutor Billy. Mr. Carpenter assigned him to me…”

“Can’t you just ask Mr. Carpenter to assign him to someone else?” Steve tries.

You shake your head.

“No,” you answer coolly, “But if it makes you feel any better, I’m meeting Billy in the library. He won’t get violent in a public place.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” Steve mumbles. He sounds uneasy.

You roll your eyes.

“Relax! I’m just tutoring Billy. It’s not like we’re eloping to Vegas or anything.”

“I’m not joking, Y/N!” Steve shrugs.

“I’m not laughing, Steve,” you brush off his concern, “Why do you care so much?”

Steve scrunches his forehead, confused.

“What?” 

You cross your arms against your chest.

“Why do you care if I tutor Billy or not?” you question him.

“Dustin was worried,” Steve gives you a non-answer.

“And you?” you keep pushing.

“I’m… I’m just trying to look out for you because… Dustin asked me to,” Steve stumbles through his response.

You raise your eyebrows. 

“That’s all?” 

Steve is quiet for a beat. Deep down he knows the truth but he’s not ready to admit it to himself just yet. Steve really cares about you. He’s trying to convince you not to tutor Billy because he’s trying to protect you. Steve doesn’t trust Billy and he doesn’t want you to get hurt. 

"Yeah, yeah that's all," Steve sighs.

You shrug, unconvinced. Since becoming friends with Steve, you’ve felt a spark between you two. You’re starting to believe that Steve feels the electricity too. But he won’t act on it. He’s an athlete and you’re a mathlete. And even though Steve is set to graduate soon, he still takes the high school social hierarchy seriously.

“Look, I appreciate the concern but I’ll be okay. I can take care of myself just fine. I’ve been doing it for a long time now…” you tell him.

Steve nods his head, defeated. He leaves without another word. You watch Steve go. After a beat, you turn and walk away in the opposite direction.

[galesdevoteewife]

Wedding asks!!! 14 and 21/28 (either or, or you can do both! they’re both about dancing) <3

✨✨Thank you my friend for spoiling me!! hehehe yes these I had given them thorough thoughts!! Imo symbolism is always a big thing in weddings so I made up tons of them LOL✨✨ 14. Rings -

Rings, yes! They looks like this.

I adopted Ed's traditional Waterdeep wedding ring setting (in short, 1. each party contributes a ring, 2.each ring is cut in half and 3.reforged/resized into two half-and-half rings). But I replaced the half-and-half metalworking method with Mokume-gane. At the center of each ring is a small round diamond, and they had chosen colors that best represented their impression of each other. The wearer should always take good care of and maintain the ring, keeping the diamond shining to signify the importance they place on caring for their partner. The ring Gale gave was infused with raw magic. Assume he was 35 years old in BG3 (1492). He was born when the Weave was broken, and it wasn’t restored until he was 22. But he could cast magic from infancy, so my HC is that he can conduct raw magic to some extent. As the foundation of the world and his core, he chose such a ring.

Zilvera chose to forge her ring from small pieces of adamantine shaved off her beloved hand crossbows. She had an almost fetishistic attachment to these hand crossbows—she considered them reliable companions, her pride, and friends that saved her countless times. It was a tough decision for her. She knows them inside out and the change in weight does bother her greatly. 12. Music + 21. Dancing + 28. First Dance -

🕺🎻🎶All-out-Party-Hard, Tavern Music DancePartY🎵🪘💃 The only step that matters in this entire wedding is dancing! I HC a whole set of— ᔓ Dekarios family wedding traditions ᔕ They are a long-standing and large family with many traditions. Every couple picks and chooses whichever they like, but this one most important/beloved dance is the one almost everyone retains. I'll call it "Wedding Circle Dance."

First, everyone forms a circle, with the couple on opposite sides of the circle so they can look at each other the entire time.

People who are next to the couple move to the outer ring, and every other person also moves to the outer ring.

Repeat until only the couple remains.

What's special about this dance is that the music starts slow and gradually gets faster and faster, so by the end, many people can't keep up, which makes the scene hilarious and brings laughter. Young /elder/limited mobility members are intentionally assigned to positions where they can move to the outer ring soon, ensuring nobody gets hurt.

The couple's coordination is tested, and they should strive to keep up with the dance until the very end of the song, symbolizing that they can overcome challenges together. (By the way, Gale and Zil nailed it like pros, hehe)

^ A reference of how the Wedding circle dance looks/feels like Then the music switches to a very slow, romantic tune. The couple slowly circles each other, catching their breaths. Whenever they feel ready, they may exchange vows and put the wedding rings—which hang on their necks with fine chains—onto each other.

The wedding is thus concluded. The officiant can give a speech or start the next dance.

The family loves dancing and everyone is encouraged to dance all night! Whoever wears out their shoes that night is believed to share the couple's luck and will find a great partner soon.

Other dance vibe reference:

These dances are all about having a great time together regardless of age or ability. That is the spirit of their family traditions! ♡ Wedding Prompts ♡01 02 03 04 05 06 07 08 09 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

[angsthology]

there’s another side that you don’t know — rvstw

beach day nowhere close to being done i give u this instead. also some of these events have nothing to do with each other

daisymaerose

liked by awstenknight, texcessive, and 50,725 others

daisymaerose hi i made a song instead of doing my college assignments please listen to it it’s called “ballad of a homeschooled girl”

and i will answer exactly 5 questions go

see all 503 comments.

siriuslyricciardo what are you majoring in?

daisymaerose siriuslyricciardo computer science :")

backbiteroo OUT OF NOWHERE HELLO???

sargeanthood caption is so real

liked by daisymaerose

webbsonsos girl do your assignments??

daisymaerose webbsonsos 😐

vettelperalta daisymaerose YAKSHWJSH girlie not impressed

dunphyrrari HELLO??????????

dunphyrrari i js woke up wtf

mclarenovia omg do u guys think there would be an album

daisymaerose mclarenovia if it comes to that sure

sixteenparx daisymaerose EXCUSE ME

waynegasly daisymaerose WHAT DO YOU MEAN IF IT COMES TO THAT

fromthevau1t daisymaerose daisy-mae rosario the album coming to u 2022

sixteenparx hi awsten

dunphyrrari I JUST??? FINISHED???? LISTENING TO IT????

dunphyrrari each 😭😭 day 😭😭 that 😭😭 im alive 😭😭 its social 😭😭 suicide 😭😭 ure so real for that

dunphyrrari babe what did college do to you

liked by te1enovia and selvnika

wdcalbon the entire gang in the credits 🥹🥹

gaslytv wdcalbon even nika???

selvnika gaslytv the fuck does that mean?

te1enovia selvnika from the years ive known u u have rendered useless. and b4 u start, ur dad is my sponsor not u

selvnika te1enovia i... wow... ouch

atticusingh 👏🏽👏🏽👏🏽

liked by daisymaerose

selvnika they let toddlers into college now?

daisymaerose selvnika ***

selvnika daisymaerose WOAH

te1enovia daisymaerose LMFAOOOO

te1enovia u will be the star of the future as u are now

buttoncunt te1enovia professing your love?

te1enovia buttoncunt not to you

buttoncunt te1enovia MF

annabcthschase me when i learned that mae goes to an ivy league

trobedisuns annabcthschase LIKE ACTUALLY??

50kidgaroos annabcthschase HOLDUP

carlandowife annabcthschase do you know which one?

annabcthschase carlandowife nope i just saw someone mention it

strollonsos18 carlandowife princeton!

carlandowife strollonsos18 😧😧

icekkonens oh my God i have been waiting for this moment: what are your cats’ names?

daisymaerose icekkonens kimi, lucy, and as of recent: bagel 🥰

roolovebot daisymaerose BAGEL where did this bagel come from

floweralbon roolovebot cds (cat distribution system)

te1enovia for anyone wondering atticus is in the credits solely for being a grammar police

liked by daisymaerose

te1enovia 🎵 daisy-mae rosario • ballad of a homeschooled girl

liked by atticusingh, calumhood, and 5,736,536 others

tagged: mickschumacher and selvnika

te1enovia update: the worst person you know is on a plane with the best person you know and ... cat

see all 3,726 comments.

mickschumacher which one am i?

te1enovia mickschumacher cat

selvnika i am assuming im the best person u know 😙😙😙😙😙😙😙😙

te1enovia selvnika thats also mick

selvnika te1enovia h03

schupastry MICKEYYYYYYYYY

sargeanthood AY BONZI WHATCHU DOIN HERE

fiftyfivetexts the last slide?? 😭😭

georgerussell63 where are you kids off to?

backbiteroo georgerussell63 to beating your ass on the track prob

-> liked by te1enovia

formulasos omg its my dream come true. MY WORLDS COLLIDING idc how small it is

dunphyrrari love your music taste

dunphyrrari EVERYTGING I DO IS TRAGIC EVERY GUY I LIKE IS GAY 🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣

norrislftv dunphyrrari damn why are u always at the scene of the crime

dunphyrrari norrislftv what crime

norrislftv dunphyrrari over-cuntism

daisymaerose 😁😁❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

liked by te1enovia

honeybenslie knowing they were probably in the same room when those texts send makes it funnier

the car texts was copy pasted straight out of the groupchat and believe me the person the story came from is okay with it, i would know. ☆ taglist; @treehouse-mouse @disneyprincemuke @yansbolobao @leilanixx @judespoision @vellicora @bborra

[jamsandsuch]

studyblr asks ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ

some asks for studyblrs and students more generally!

🎙️someone in your field, dead or alive, that youd like to have a conversation with?

📚 favorite course you’ve taken?

🎓 a teacher/mentor figure that has had a huge impact on your studies?

📉 your least favorite course/a course you did poorly in?

🎵 describe your “vibe” as a student in a song?

👻 share an academic horror story! (bad group projects, missed an exam, etc)

📁 what is a project/assignment you’re really proud of?

💬 best comment you’ve ever gotten on your work?

🌟 share one of your academic “core memories”!

📖 a book/reading from your field you’d recommend/really enjoyed?

💻 a subject/field you wish you could get into if you could?

🗑️ have you always wanted to be in your field? what was your “almost-field?”

✉️ your academic “motto”?

✏️ a big misconception about your field/a popular, but wrong fact related to your field that makes you cringe?

👶 something you really needed to hear when you started out?

📍 an academic pet peeve of yours?

my asks are open too :p ~

[kati-kris]

Ahem, the inspiration appeared to rivet the clip :D 💧

Yes, until the freaking 3 o'clock in the morning

But I tried, not bad for the first time

(also, dedicated to my sunshine)

and here are our favorite authors (I never assign authorship, I just always dreamed of riveting a clip):

- appelsiini : 1

- The Transformers: Drift - Empire of Stone : 2

- khamar : 3

- dataglitch : 18

- Alex Milne (markerguru) : 4, 19

- Jack Lawrence: 16

- Coralus : 11

- pretentiousfork : 9

- breakdownsbuttlights : 5, 13

- ghangajii : 6

-Ricken_art : 7

- kawaii : 20

(if you did not specify the authors correctly, then please excuse me, I didn't find some of them, but I tried my best)

Music 🎵: Call Me Carizma - Rain

[1800naveen]

This fandom has a problem.

The acotar fandom can be a cesspool but many of you know that already.

How some people treat Gwyn, Emerie, and/or Nesta, to defending actions that should never be defended, to other bullshit.

But one of the bigger problems is the racism.

Do you think you can come into this fandom with that kind of hatred in your body and proceed to type it out and everyone would be cool with it? Because if it's yes, you're wrong.

A majority of this fandom are white, the other being poc. I don't see a lot of poc but they're out there. And for some reason, there are people who have a problem with that.

Are you proud of yourself if you do something like this? Does it make you happy when you act like a piece of shit? When you act like fucking scum? When you act like a bigot? Calling people slurs? You must already feel like dogshit before so doing this must give you the boost that you so desperately need.

I don't understand racists. Why are you so heated about a person's skin color or their ethnicity or the country they come from? We're all human at the end of the day and we were put on this earth to love each other but some of us didn't get the memo.

There was some white chick who made a post ranting about faeries and its Irish roots, how it has white people, and started to bitch about the black characters. Her account got banned, bless but still, whomp whomp, you racist hoe. A person had talked to them about this and the OP got offended and proceeded to act like an asshole towards them. Ho, why is you mad?

I haven't seen the post but I imagine the OP going like this: "Silly little black people! They always think they can accomplish everything by just sitting around!" (This is from Drawn Together and Clara said this, she's also racist so if the shoe fits).

I've made some posts of SJM's portrayal of Celtic culture and how it's demonizing but I never once brought up or said shit like this.

Are you aware that these are fairies? Fairies don't really have a specific skin color assigned to them. Are you aware that fairies can have the skin color of a rainbow? They could be blue, green, orange, etc. Have you heard of elves? Well, SJM's fairies are basically that, they aren't really fairies but eh.

To anyone who has said racist remarks about characters or to other people in this fandom or any fandom in general, just know that your life is as significant as a cockroach's dick. A bunch of chauvinist pigs who come on the internet and act like they're tough shit.

You aren't worthy of drawing breath if you treat people like this. With the confidence and courage you have to act like this online, put that energy into taking a blade and pressing down on your wrist or tying that rope around your disgusting neck and pray to your God for the courage to kick that chair or put a bullet in your skull, right in the minuscule portion of your head that you think contains some semblance of rational thought, the shriveled lump that you call a brain.

I don't give a fuck if you're offended by this, never should've been a racist. Never should've insulted the country they came from. Never should've called a person a negro or the hard r.

People like you are a plague upon this earth and I pray for the day that you will one day vanish and slither back into the hellhole you came from and be set aflame, forever burning in the hellfire🙏🏾.

You ain't shit, you never were shit, and you never gonna be shit. 🎵Guess we both ain't shit.🎵

(If you got a problem with this post, just know that I don't give a fuck if I hurt your feelings. This had to be said.)

Take care and don't be a dick, it's not cool dudes.

[ace-writer-lani]

Future Languages of Love by Solangelo fics

The Love Language of Lying will be updated probably May 10th.

(I just have to get through a few assignments and 2 final projects for school.)

IN THE MEANTIME

Here are some hints for future Love Language fics ;)

The Love Language of (⚔️)

The Love Language of (🎁)

The Love Language of (🍽)

The Love Language of (😘)

The Love Language of (😴)

The Love Language of (🎵)

The Love Language of (🩺)

The Love Language of (🕺🏼)

(Blue is Will's POV and purple is Nico's)

[mossdontknowwhattheydoin]

*snap* *snap* 🎼🎵the Minecraft family!🎵🎼

Notes and ideas I've been slowly working on from that qsmp Addams family au

So Phil is literally just like a male version of Morticia who instead of having just one husband has three amd instead of two kids he has 5 (including Wilbur) Wilbur won't be there though, he'll be off being a star like always jdkshs

Anyways they're in a polycule and they'll be so funky.

Once I get there-

I think instead of upfront assigning different characters to different ppl I'll give some their own roles and some will be kinda like others.

They'll live in a mansion just like the one in that animated Addams family movie- jdhsh

They gonna have powers ehehehehegehe

Relationships- so Phil, Forever, Fits, and Missas relationship is going to be very open- what's gonna be goin on is; theyre all married to Phil, he's the hinge, so to speak.

Forever and Missa are slowly coming to the idea that they could love each other- Fit loves Pac, Pac likes Phil- (Pac will never do anything about it)

Phils married to Kristin still, shes still also a goddess- whome Phil is married to, Kristin isn't married to anyone aside from Phil-

Cellbit and Roier are in a romantic relationship- Jaiden is both Cellbits and Roiers platonic partner.

Bad and Forever are ex's- Bads still a bit salty that Phil married his ex but Bad loves(Platonicially?)Phil so he's put it behind him.

Etoiles isn't sure how he got roped into going to the annual runions that happen yearly (hosted by different qsmp ppl each year) but he's found he doesn't mind the company. (A lot of the time)

Baghera sometimes drags Antoine along to the runions- not much else to say tbh

All the qsmp eggs came into being because of magic- like all of them

When Tallulah found out she was, in her words; 'some freaky magic baby' she had a angsty fit and stayed in her room for a bit-

When Chayanne found out his reaction was; 'oohhh. Cool :D '

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

The Experiment Pt. 1 | Jonathan Crane x Reader

Summary| Jonathan Crane assigns his students a new experimental project: choose a phobia and research methods for coping with or completely overcoming those fears in test subjects. A student approaches Dr. Crane with an interesting project proposition... can he help her overcome her fear?

Warnings| Teacher x student relationship (both are consenting adults), Borderline sexual assault between a bf and gf, Erotophobia, Smutty stuff yk , Masturbation, P in V penetration, Teasing, Semi-public, Unprotected sex, Begging, Experiments. Extensive discussions of sex and intimacy.

"Oh My God"- Ida Maria 🎵

"Lazy Eye"- Silversun Pickups 🎶

"Romantic Lover" Eyedress 🎵

Word count: 3375k

Minors do not interact!!

.............................................................................................................

He leaned back on the desk behind him, his hands flat against the surface and his suit coat spread like grayish wings against his arms. Dr. Crane looked between his students, landing on a female student,  squinting against the projector’s harsh glare in his eyes. She looked back from her seat near the back of the lecture hall, a small twist forming between her eyebrows as she read the text on the screen just above his head. 

“I expect this won’t be much of a surprise to most of you, considering we’ve been working towards this for the greater part of the semester.” He watched the dozens of eyes in his hall blink rapidly in response and swallowed his distaste. 

“Remember that I study phobias- fear- and from the looks on some of your faces, it appears quite a few of you are afraid.” He chuckled darkly and changed the slide, the light flickered against the students’ faces. 

“Choose a phobia, research it, and develop methods of coping or even ways to overcome this phobia. You should have a test subject and a complete study, all of which should be straightforward considering the work you’ve done with me in the past weeks. The research paper you turn in will account for 30% of your final grade. Take this seriously. These are your instructions. Other questions can be directed to the syllabus. Only come to me if you have specific concerns regarding the experiment- I’m doing research of my own and don’t have time to meet with all of you.” He swallowed, scanning the class again and landing on the girl from before. 

Faye Greyson, why is it that her papers are so well written but she contributes nothing to class discussions? She seemed so pathetic sitting up there on the back row with her big doe eyes caught in the headlights of his lectures…he thought briefly and let it slide from his head as he dismissed the class. The college students around him fled from the room, talking quietly to one another as they scrambled out of the room. The girl came down the steps and brushed past him gently. She smelled like generic soap and rose water. He wrinkled his nose slightly, breathing her in. 

“Sorry, professor.” She apologized kindly with a smile that showed too much of her pink gums. 

“Watch it.” He muttered beneath his breath, giving the back of her head a dark glare and turning to pack up his briefcase. He took the rail to his lab on the north side of town, a book open across his lap. He fingered page 16, running his index against the straight edge of the paper and turning it quickly as he read. The doors opened at one of the stops and he glanced up briefly, fixing the horn-rimmed glasses on his face. He rolled his eyes when we saw Faye board the train from the yellowed platform, hand in hand with another student from his class. One of the boys that took the class because they were naturally gifted but did nothing besides attend some classes and depend on their smarts to barely pass. He would have some harsh realities to face by the end of the semester when he saw his final grade, Crane would make sure of that. 

He hated seeing students outside of class, it prompted them to speak to him when he’d rather both parties pretend they didn’t know each other. To be fair, they really didn’t know each other. Crane didn’t find his students very interesting so he wasn’t concerned with getting to know them. The only aspect he could muster some ounce of thoughtful contemplation for was their phobia projects, where he theorized, they would all most likely choose their own phobias. Knowing their phobias was about as interesting as their lives could get for him. Besides that, he could care less. 

The train was full so the girl held onto one of the rubber handles suspended from the ceiling, but because she was so short, she had to stand on her tiptoes to fully grasp the handle, her knuckles turned white in her grip. The boy… maybe Jason White (Crane couldn’t remember exactly) took one of the ceiling bars easily and slipped his arm around the girl’s waist. Their puffy coats slid against one another as they swayed in the fastly moving train car. The boy's hand left her waist and traveled up, somewhat discreetly, to one of her breasts. With her free hand, she swatted him away but he persisted, thinking that it was a game. Faye happened to glance over in Crane’s direction and recognizing him immediately, turned bright red. The boy’s hand slid over her hardened nipple visible through her pink jersey turtleneck. She tried to cover her chest with her arm but as the train shuttered in speed, she had to stabilize herself with her free hand against a plastic partitioner. Crane cleared his throat distastefully and returned to his book.

For some, the absence of fear is a greater disaster than fear itself. To fear nothing is to have no conception of danger, empathy, pain, or love. Do sociopaths fear? Some scientists have sought to answer this question but the evidence is inconclusive on the subject, though it is nearly unanimous among the scientific community that fear is essential to survival and companionship. It is the primal root of our existence and should be a present factor in every major part of our lives. It is how we make connections with others and how we protect ourselves and our own. For sociopaths who may not fear, they lack a basic foundation of complexity that supports an emotionally ‘typical’ person. They lack love, understanding, and hope because they do not feel the fear of potential loss, misunderstanding, and dread in the same situation. 

“Stop it, Jason.” The girl whispered harshly to the boy. 

“No one’s looking.” He whispered back and kissed her neck, the sound causing a wave of communal discomfort amongst the rail riders. 

“Perhaps not but we can still hear.” Crane muttered beneath his breath and raised his eyes to the young couple. The girl looked to be on the verge of tears, her face so pink it nearly matched the hue of her shirt. Crane noticed the small curvature of her breasts still showing through the fabric. 

“Damn the cold.” Faye whispered and covered her chest with her arm with embarrassment and Jason laughed condescendingly. 

“Don’t go blaming that on the cold….” Jason cornered her against the wall of the rail which Crane assumed would have been attractive to someone who wasn’t standing uncomfortably on a moving public train. 

“Can we at least just wait till we get off? I don’t…” She trailed off, making eye contact with the professor who was now thoroughly annoyed. Jason looked over too, finally seeing Crane across the doors. 

“Hello Mr. White.” Crane hissed, showing his deepest displeasure at having to step in for the sake of every passenger on the train.

“Professor.” Jason responded nervously. 

“Miss Greyson.” He nodded in her direction.

“Professor.” She whispered back in a weak mew of a voice. 

Crane stood, slid his book back into his briefcase, and clicked it shut. The doors opened at his stop and he turned around casually saying, ''behave yourselves,” to the two students and stepped down onto the platform. The doors closed behind him. He turned to face the windows cut into the doors, making eye contact with the girl, now visibly crying, overwhelmed and embarrassed. He tipped his head to the side, watching her, and raised an eyebrow as she looked up and met his clear blue eyes. The train shot away from the platform, sailing against the New York City skyline. 

“Hmm,” Crane hummed to himself and walked away, pursuing his chapped lips to whistle a low note.

——-—— 

His class met twice a week on Tuesdays and Thursdays in the evening. He commuted to work, taking a train to the college in the morning and working through the day until he could commute back to his lab and then to his small apartment where he slept most nights when he didn’t fall asleep on his pages of research and diagrams. 

Last night was one of those nights, so he wasn’t in a good mood as he boarded a later train than he usually took for his evening lecture. The train’s wheels squealed as they stopped in the station outside NYU. Crane hurried off and squeezed through the mess of people lining the subterranean station. He walked quickly through the station and raced up the stairs to the street level. He was met by the familiar sound of taxis whizzing by and the annoying laughter of students as they passed on their way to classes and dorms. 

He went straight to his corner office and put coffee on, relaxing as the smell of the brewing grounds filled his small office. He scanned his lecture notes on a pad of manilla paper and with a red pen, scribbled additional thoughts in the rigid margins. The coffee maker sputtered to a stop, steaming up the window just behind it. Crane pushed away from his desk and filled a small cup with the hot coffee. As he placed it on his desk, a hesitant knock sounded at the door. He checked his Rolex and muttered beneath his breath. 

“Shit. What the fuck is it now?” He gritted his teeth, “come in!”

His office door opened slowly and a girl stepped inside the room. Faye Greyson wringing her small hands, took a step toward his desk. 

“Good evening, Professor.” She greeted him quietly. Her nose and the tops of her ears were tinged with red. 

“Miss Greyson, what is it?” He sat back at his desk and cleared his throat. 

“Well, I just…” She trailed off pathetically and wrapped her arms around herself. She was wearing a light blue turtleneck this time with dark blue boot-cut jeans. They were low rise and showed the small pouch of her stomach that surrounded her bellybutton. 

He waited for her to finish her sentence but as the seconds dragged on, he sighed. 

“Would you like some coffee?” He asked with a hint of unkindness. 

“Yes, actually. Thank you.” The girl pulled the chair on the other side of the desk back and sat down, dropping her bookbag on the floor beside her. Crane took a second cup and poured her some coffee. She took it carefully and accidentally brushed her thumb against his. She muttered an apology. 

“Why are you here?” Crane asked plainly, removing his glasses and wiping them with a small cloth. 

“I just… well I just wanted…” she started again. 

“Yes I know, you said that before.” He chuckled darkly and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, losing his patience. 

“Right. I just wanted to apologize for the other night, Dr. Crane.” She said finally, exhaling between her lips sharply. 

“Apologize for what?” Crane furrowed his eyebrows and blew on his steaming coffee, trying to remain patient with his student. 

“For what you saw on the train.” She cupped her hands around the mug, her eyes held tightly to the adjacent wall, refusing to meet his. 

“Ah.” He sat back in his chair. “I’d forgotten about it but I still don’t see why you need to apologize. You’re an adult, Miss Greyson. What you do in your personal life doesn’t interest me in the slightest.” He shuffled through his papers again, searching for the scans he had prepped. 

“I’m glad that you see it that way, sir. Why I felt like I needed to apologize for was the whole scene we caused and how you felt responsible to say something when he wouldn’t… stop. So, maybe what I’m trying to do is thank you?” Her voice ended at an odd nasally pitch. 

“Thank me? For what? For telling you and your boyfriend to behave yourselves?” He was getting more and more confused as to why she was in his office talking to him about a train ride that he had almost forgotten about. He checked his watch again and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear. 

“Yes, because he stopped after that, so thank you.” She crossed and uncrossed her legs and he could smell that familiar scent of rose water permeating the air inside his office. 

“Alright, you’re welcome.” Crane exhaled tightly and cleared his throat when she didn’t stand or say anything else. “Is there something else?” She nodded and blushed deeper, shifting in her chair. His jaw clenched and his palms were sweaty. Out with it, he wanted to growl. His lecture started in an hour and at this rate, they would both be late.

“I broke up with him.” She said finally as a tear rolled down her face, gliding along the shallow cliff of her cheekbone. He said nothing, restraining himself from saying anything at that point. She sniffled and hiccuped pitifully. He pitched his eyebrows together with his index and thumb, placing his glasses on the desk between them. 

“Why?” He asked finally. 

“Because I was scared of him.” The girl answered, crying softly and playing with her hands in her lap. She looked up at him with wide eyes, red and faintly smudged. His body subconsciously perked up at the mention of fear and he leaned forward on his elbows, his dress jacket’s elbow patches grinding against the wood surface. 

“Well it wasn’t that I was scared of him but rather what I felt like I’d have to do with him.” She wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. Crane took a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it begrudgingly. She took it and blotted her nose where snot was leaking down onto her upper lip. He felt a fixture of disgust and surprise arousal. Her long eyelashes stuck together with sticky tears and she but her lip to keep from crying. 

“I’m not sure I follow you.” He pushed his glasses up farther. He lifted his cup of coffee to his lips and drank deeply. 

“I was scared of having sex with him.” She hid her face behind her shaky hand, the white handkerchief wavered in the movement. Crane swallowed loudly and set the cup down, clearing his throat. 

“Well…” He traced his mouth with the edge of his thumb, reaching for words to respond with. 

“It's erotophobia.” She added and hiccuped. 

“Fear of intimacy, interesting.” He scanned his bookshelf for a moment. “Why are you telling me this?” He sighed and rearranged himself in his chair. 

“I want to do my project on erotophobia,” she took a slow sip from her cup of coffee and took a deep breath, “and I want to be the subject too.” She glanced up, testing the durability of their eye contact. He didn’t look away, he was fascinated. 

“I don’t know about that, Miss Greyson.” He answered smoothly and collected his papers into a neat pile, clamping a large binder clip around the papers. He stood and took one last sip of coffee, still looking down at the girl below. 

“I’ve been looking for subjects since I saw this on the syllabus a month ago. There aren’t any, Professor.” She said timidly, sounding almost exhausted.

“That’s impossible, we live in New York City. You must have been able to find someone!" He laughed and collected his things into his arms. 

“And yet,” she stood and clasped a hand around her opposite arm, “I can’t find anyone. To be fair, this sort of thing isn’t easy to find in the population. Other people in the class will choose their own phobias, why can’t I do mine?” She turned as Crane stepped around his desk and went to his office door. 

“This is a very special situation, Miss Greyson. While I find your project topic surprisingly thought provoking, it’s…” He struggled to find an adjective. 

“Inappropriate?” She offered, lowering her head. 

“Perhaps but I don’t really care. I just worry that by you conducting the experiment and being the subject, you are jeopardizing the entire outcome of your research. It's unorthodox to say the least.” He opened the door and stepped out. The girl grabbed her bookbag and followed, standing off to the side while he locked his office door. 

“Yes, I know sir.” 

He walked quickly and she followed, matching his stride even with her shorter legs in tow. At the door of the lecture hall, Crane stopped. 

“We can talk about this later,” he nodded down at the girl and went straight to his desk on the elevated platform. She smiled shyly and climbed the stairs to the middle section of seats and sat, closer to the front that she had been before. Crane saw the old boyfriend in the same seat as before, chewing on the end of a wooden pencil. Exhaling, Crane dropped his briefcase on his desk and began to unpack the papers he needed for the lecture. 

________

After he dismissed class, he repacked his things and snapped his case shut, the sound echoing around him in the large room. The girl waited just behind him, he could feel her presence like an unseen bug hovering out of reach. 

“I-” Faye started but Crane spun around, interrupting her. 

“Have you tried masturbation?” He crossed his arms across his chest and sat on the desk. His student blushed and laughed nervously.

“See this is why I worry about you jeopardizing your own experiment. I asked you about masturbation, will your subject try masterbating to approach correcting her fear of sex?” He inclined his head in her direction. 

“Yes, she’s tried it,  Professor.” She responded short of breath. 

“And it hasn’t helped?” He furrowed his brow. 

“Not exactly.” 

He licked his lips quickly and brushed a hand across his mouth. “And uh, what does the subject think about while she masterbates?” He watched her shift uncomfortably between her feet and bit her lip. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Hmmm.” Crane hummed and stood up from the desk. He stepped down from the platform and stopped right in front of the girl. She looked up at him, her eyes wet and heavy with color. She took a step back prompting a quiet tittering from her teacher who stopped her.

“Ah, ah.” He closed the distance between them, not touching her but getting close enough to smell the residue of generic soap caught on the goosebumps of her skin. 

Crane leaned in, his wide lips brushing her earlobe as he spoke, “does your subject watch pornography?” Her skin warmed beneath his lips. 

“No.” Her breath hitched and Crane could physically feel her discomfort at his intimate proximity, the rush of blood to her… 

“Has she ever had sex?” He whispered, allowing his lips to rest on the ridges of her small ear. She shivered. 

“No.” 

He pulled away. The girl exhaled and looked up to the ceiling. With strong, angular fingers, Crane pulled her chin down to face slightly so that he could see her eyes. They glistened with inklings of fear- fear. 

“Then that’s what it is.” He muttered more to himself than to Faye, smiling. 

“What?” She asked, tears forming in the wells of her eyes. 

“It’s the physical aspect of it, isn’t it? Having to touch someone, be touched… outside of your imagination?” He crossed his arms across his chest proudly. A few moments of silence passed between them, each watching the other in contemplative stillness, charged with suggestive energy. 

“Yes.” She whispered finally and ran one of her hands up the buttons of her professor’s shirt to his neck. She went to kiss him but he stepped away and chuckled roughly. 

“No, no Miss Greyson. Think of the experiment.” He chided and turned her chin gently away, trailing his hands down a tendon in her neck. 

“Tell your subject to try masturbation and pornography. See where it takes her.” He took his briefcase and pushed past her, leaving a residue of rich cologne in the air around her.

---------

end of part 1 :)

[footprintsinthesxnd]

I’ve done lots of writing today and catching up on some things and I’ve been thinking a lot about my OCs so I thought I’d do an oc ask game. Feel free to reblog and people can ask all about your OCs too. I look forward to see what you guys want to know. All my OCs can be found here on my masterlist

OC Ask Game

🎵 How do they sound? Accents/ common phrases etc

✉️ How would they react to a love letter?

👗 Describe their style

😊 Something that always makes them smile

🩵Assign them an aesthetic

😱 What’s their biggest fear?

🐾 What’s their favourite animal?

🍸 What’s their favourite drink?

🥘 What’s their favourite food?

🎶 A song that reminds you of your oc?

🎤 Do they sing in the shower? If so what song.

💃 Do they dance? Are they a good dancer?

🤕 How would they react to the person they love being injured?

🩷 three good traits your oc has?

🖤 three negative traits about your oc?

🌍 Where was your oc born/ where do they call home?

⚾️ Does your oc have a hobby?

👨‍⚕️What job does your oc have? / what is their dream job?

That’s just a few questions I thought of but feel free to add question or ask questions if your own.

Tagging a few of my mutuals @georgieluz @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @blurredcolour @blueberry-ovaries @hesbuckcompton-baby @heystovepipeboys @b00ks1ut