#Shelbie Bruce | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cillianmesoftlyyy · 2 months ago

Text

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

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

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

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

bury a friend- Billie Eilish 🎶

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you find control attractive?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then who, may I ask, are you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what is it that I’m afraid of?”

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

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

“Being found out…”

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

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

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

“So far,” he sighs.

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

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

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

“Thomas Wayne.”

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

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

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

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

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

“And why would I tell you that?”

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

“You’re bluffing.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You admire me?”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where did you get this, Miss Vale?”

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

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

“It would be mine too.”

“Against Thomas Wayne?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crane raises an eyebrow, impressed by your thoroughness.

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Dr. Crane.”

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

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

“Goodnight, Miss Vale.”

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

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

“I’m sure.”

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

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

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

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

“Damn you…"

181 notes · View notes

cillianmesoftlyyy · 1 month ago

Text

Moth to the Flame Pt. 3 | Dr. Crane x reader

warnings: more sexual tension but not quite smut yet, violence, mention of a gun, sexual violence.

Tocka - Molchat Doma 🎵

The Masochism Tango - Tom Lehrer 🎶

A/N I know it's frustrating that we're building up to the smut so slowly but I promise that it'll be worth it. I'm trying to replicate the sexual frustration and tension (plus you know how much I love world-building)!!

“This…”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you press your lips against Crane’s. You exchange breath quickly as he realizes what’s happening. You pull back only slightly to see Crane’s reaction, your eyes turned down at the corners. Crane sees the look in your eyes and his body begins to thrum. His jaw clenched and his eyes narrow as a primal surge of energy explodes within him. His hands release the counter behind him and grab your face, pulling you roughly to his mouth. The moment your mouth crushes against his, he feels the last bit of his restraint snap. His body feels like it’s on fire, and he lets out a soft, barely audible moan against your lips.

You kiss Crane harder, not caring if it hurts either of you. Crane groans again, his fingers tightening around your jaw. You reach your hand between your two bodies and grab his lapels, pulling him even closer. When his chest hits yours, Crane moves his hands up to your hair, tangling his fingers around strands of hair and tugging harshly until you whimper. His tongue parts your lips and tangles with yours. Now it’s your turn to moan and stumble back into one of the other lab tables. You grunt when your back hits it but you never break your rhythm.

The sound of your moaning against his mouth makes him grow completely desperate for you. His hand that was gripping your chin releases your face and grips the side of the lab table that you’ve stumbled back against, pushing his body even closer against yours. His tongue is tracing over your bottom lip, his teeth just barely nipping at your lip. You wrap your hands around his neck and rise up on the balls of your feet to keep your balance. Crane moans lowly and clenches his hands on either side of you on the table. His tongue moves deeper inside your mouth and his hips move against yours. You feel how hard he is and moan softly into his mouth again.

You move his tousled dark hair out of his face with one of your hands and take off his glasses, setting them to the side. Then pulling him closer by his throat, you start to lean back on the table. Crane groans in response and helps you back onto the lab table, spreading your legs so that he can stand between them. His hands run up and down your thighs caging his hips between them. You move his hair from his face again, pulling the dark hair back with your hands.

Crane pulls back suddenly, looking down at you and panting, his eyes wild. You stare back, your lips parted and wet from his tongue. You realize suddenly, that he almost looks afraid. You’re not naive enough to assume that he’s a virgin but perhaps its hard for him to trust women enough to fuck them like this.

“What is it?” You ask, your brow furrowed.

Crane seems to finally snap out of it and leans down, his thumb playing with your bottom lip. “I don’t want another man to ever see you like this.”

You laugh and sit up, still hugging him with your thighs. When you sit up, you only come up to his chin so you trail short kisses along his jaw, your other hand stroking his chest beneath his lab coat.

“Oh, Crane… you haven’t even seen what’s under these clothes.” You whisper as you kiss his jaw. Crane groans and closes his eyes. His hands move to your hips and start to slip up beneath your shirt.

“Then let me see you…” he nearly whines, his deep voice tapering off as he asks.

You run your nose up and down his throat and kiss his Adam's apple with a smile.

“Are you sure, Crane?” You whisper.

“I’ve never been so sure about anything, Miss Vale.”

You stroke his face, one of the rare acts of kindness that you’ve offered him so far. Because you can’t reach his lips, you lean your head back and give him permission with your eyes. Crane groans and drops his head to his chest, shaking his head.

“This is a trick, isn’t it?” He mutters, chuckling, “Business partners, not fuck buddies, isn’t that what you told me?” He groans again.

“Mmm that’s right, Crane. Good boy.” You smile and kiss his neck once.

“You’re making it incredibly hard for me to compose myself right now, Miss Vale.”

You smile softly and gently push him away. Hopping off the desk and fixing your clothes, you grin at Crane over your shoulder. “Then try harder, Dr. Crane.” You walk to the door of his lab while he remains by the lab table, his eyebrow raised.

“You’re playing a dangerous game…” he grunts darkly, his lip twisting into a scowl.

“Then let's play another one, shall we?” You respond calmly, fixing your clothes to fall normally.

“Oh? What kind of game did you have in mind?” Crane smooths down his lab coat and the tented front of his pants. His fingers itch to grab you, to hit you, to hurt you, but mainly to kiss you, fuck you, take you.

“Hide and Seek. I've proven my skill for finding people, watching them, following them... now it's your turn, Crane. I know you like to 'stalk' the women who rub you the wrong way. So, here's your invitation. Come and find me. If you can, and I'll warn you it won't be easy, then your lack of 'composure' will be of no issue.” You propose, your back close to Crane’s lab door.

Crane smirks and looks down at his feet, impressed that you’ve learned so much about his tendencies, especially when it comes to other women. He feels a shiver run down his spine at the idea of chasing you down, hunting you. Something about that thought is so thrilling. His chest rises and falls with every deep, shaky breath he takes. He keeps his head down as he speaks again.

“And if I find you, what then?”

“Whatever you want. Victor gets the spoils.”

Crane looks up, his eyes dark like a predator’s. A smile forms on his lips and he nods slowly.

“Alright, Miss Vale, I accept your challenge.”

“Good. You leave your lab at 10pm every night. I have until then to get home. You have 42 hours to find me... or the deal's off. We're back to being just business partners.”

You open the door of the lab, looking back to get one last glance at Crane. He looks flustered and dark, like an escaped maniac. You want him to stalk you. You want him to watch you sleep. You want him to be a freak.

When the door finally closes, Crane pinches the bridge of his nose and groans aloud. In his entire life, he’s never felt this sort of excitement before. He can already feel himself growing frantic, desperate for your scent, his mind completely fixated on you. He takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down, but the faintest hint of your perfume still in the air only causes his thoughts to go more wild.

“I’m going to find you, Miss Vale. You’ve really started something now, and you may regret it.” Crane says under his breath and turns back to his work, finishing what he can before he can start the clock, the countdown.

…

You’re already home when Crane can leave his lab and start the game. The streets of Gotham are dark and uncomfortably warm but he keeps his suit jacket on, who would he be without it?

He stops outside the university building and sniffs the air like an animal, seeing if he can still smell your perfume in the air. But the air around him smells like a college campus stuck in the middle of a large city: stale beer, gasoline, and cigarettes. Crane looks around at the cityscape in front of him. He could go to the nice part of town, the area where he lives, an area that a woman working for the police department would live too (assuming their paychecks were similar). He started walking towards his part of town when he stopped.

Victoria Vale was the child of the Arkham family, you’d told him that the first night you met. You would probably want to stay close to the asylum, the last thing that reminded you of your parents. Plus, you were just as dangerous as any of the criminals in the Narrows, so the neighborhood wouldn’t scare you away. So, Crane decided, you lived in the Narrows, but where?

He knows he’d have to be absolutely crazy to go through every single apartment in the Narrows looking for you, so that's out. No, he’s going to have do this by thinking like you. Which place would make you feel the most comfortable, safe, and at home? You’re just a lowly detective, at least that’s what you want everyone to think. You don’t play by the rules, you don’t respect the players, so neither would he.

Crane headed home to his own apartment, planning out his moves for the next day. He wouldn’t need the full 42 hours, especially if he broke the rules. No, he’d only need a few.

…

The next evening Crane leaves his lab at the university early, rebuffing his usual routine. He waits outside the precinct, hidden in the shadow of a city bus. A drunk man approaches him, babbling about Wall Street. Crane ignores the stranger as he watches for you but he doesn’t leave Crane alone, trying to pick a fight. Crane grits his teeth and grabs the man’s collar and pulls him close.

“Fuck off,” he growls. The drunk investor’s eyes widen and he babbles again. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“What are you doing?” The man slurs and Crane smirks suddenly.

“I’m waiting for a woman to leave that building,” he points to the precinct’s front doors, “then I’m going to follow her home and watch her sleep, and then I’m going to break into her home and win the little game she’s playing with me.” Crane answers in a clear, dark voice, his eyes taking on a frightening glow. When the drunk man says nothing, Crane shoves him away. “Oh don’t look at me like you haven’t done something worse, wannabe Wayne.”

Crane focuses his attention back on the building and the man scrambles away. Crane chuckles as the man trips over his own trousers and shouts in terror. As he does though, Crane sees a woman standing on the opposite side of the street, her head turned towards the source of the shout. His eyes narrow and he notices that it's you, the bane of his existence and fuel to his sadistic fire.

You keep walking, shaking your head as you see what looks like one of those rich finance bros scurrying away from a city bus. Your eyes watch him as you make your way home towards your apartment. The precinct is in the heart of downtown Gotham, a few blocks away from Arkham and the Narrows. The sky is dark but has a sickly-yellow tinge to it from the smokestacks standing tall in the clouds of smog. You pull your hair up into a clip to keep it off of your neck. Sweat drips down your spine as you cross intersections and get closer to your apartment in the Narrows.

Crane follows you like a shadow, only the reflection from his glasses would be visible if you looked over your shoulder. His heart beats faster as he watches you walk, completely oblivious to how close you are to him without even knowing it. He watches behind a dumpster as you climb a set of slotted iron steps up to your door. You remove your keys smoothly from the pocket of your trousers, the only pants you like to wear he notes to himself. There’s no fear or urgency in the way you look for the right key and slip it into the lock. You live in a dangerous part of town, break-ins happen while the residents are still inside. A young woman standing in the dark at her door, distracted, well she was just asking for trouble now.

You open your door and close it behind you. The apartment lights up as you turn on lamps and kick off your pumps. Crane watches from the alley, a window providing him with a clear view of your living room. He watches as you take down your hair again and open the freezer to get the tray of ice cubes. You take an ice cube from the tray and let it melt on the back of your neck, its trail of water wetting your t-shirt.

You have a box unit in the window of your bedroom and Crane finds it easily. It takes him a few tries to pull the wire poking out from the corner of the window. Naturally, he has a pocket knife stuffed into one of the pockets in his suit jacket. He takes the wire and holds it taut as he cuts, killing the air conditioning in your apartment. The result is almost instantaneous. You get hotter, so you slip a second ice cube down your shirt into your bra. When that still doesn’t help, you tug off your t-shirt and drop it on the couch. Crane watches from the alley with an amused smile. He feels himself getting hard, excited.

You move into your bedroom and find the broken air conditioner in the window and groan aloud. You curse below your breath and undo your trousers, letting them slip to the ground. When the warm air hits your bare legs, you sigh, finding some relief. Holding the air conditioner with one hand, your other hand gropes the side panels holding it inside the window. You free it from the window pane and set it roughly on the floor. Fresh air rushes in and you close your eyes, taking in a deep breath. The severed cord connected to the A/C unit doesn’t even catch your eye, you’re so distracted by the heat.

Crane watches as you close the sheer curtains over the window and step away. He steps closer, invisible in the dark. He can see through the gauze-like material that you’ve stepped into your bathroom and turn on the shower. Through the medicine cabinet, he watches your reflection unclip your bra and drop it onto the tiled floor before you close the bathroom door and he can see no more. Crane waits for a moment, imagining you stepping out of your frilly little underwear you were wearing when you removed the A/C unit from the window, and tossing it into a laundry hamper beside the sink. He imagines you turning on the shower and stepping below the freezing stream of Gotham city water. His cock gets harder and his pupils dilate. He catches himself salivating… literally salivating at the thought of you. Unable to stand it any longer, Crane opens the window a little more and pushes himself over the lip of the windowsill. His long lean body slips easily inside and he closes the window behind him, hoping that you will notice.

He takes the opportunity while alone in your bedroom to take a very quick look around. He finds the gun in your bedside table (looks legit), he admires your underwear drawer (why so many frilly things, Victoria?), and smirks at the stacks of his research papers on your floor around your bed (so sweet, really). When he hears the shower cut off, Crane slips quietly into the living room, unlocks the front door and leaves.

This is when he waits.

Back under the protection of the alleyways in the Narrows, he waits for you to notice the window, then to search the house for an intruder, and then finally to check the front door where you realize the front door is unlocked. Being the level-headed woman that you are, you will lock the door, get your gun and search the house again until you are convinced that the window must have slid shut while you were in the shower and you must have also forgotten to lock the door when you came home. Minor mistakes.

But you never make mistakes, Miss Vale.

Like clockwork, Crane muses, now in a big t-shirt and underwear, you roam around the small apartment with your gun cocked. Multiple thorough searches leave you perplexed. You allow yourself to consider Crane as the suspect. You’d told him to stalk you, but why would he risk running down the clock like this and not stray to claim his prize? You make sure the door is locked again before you go to bed, leaving the lamp on as you skim an article Crane had written on the intersectionality of pleasure and fear (riveting stuff).

You’re starting to fall asleep. Your eyes are getting heavy. The words on the page are bleeding together.

Someone knocks on the door. You jump.

Taking your gun again from the nightstand, you walk slowly to the front door. The person knocks again, harder this time. Crane wouldn’t knock, he’d find a way in, you tell yourself. You open the door, but the door chain keeps it from opening all the way. Before you even have a moment to breathe, Crane kicks in your door, breaking the chain in the process.

The moment Crane steps into your apartment, his predatory instincts immediately start to kick in. Before you even have the chance to step back, he grabs you by the shoulders and slams you back against the wall, pinning you in place. You gasp, dropping the gun, but before you can scream, Crane clamps a hand over your mouth. He shushes you sweetly, his eyes wild. You try to knee him in the groin but his free hand stops you, slamming your thigh back against the wall.

He pulls you completely flush against his body, pressing you into the wall as he leans his head even closer to yours. His voice is low and rough as he speaks, his words are almost like a hiss as he speaks directly into your ear, “You’re completely trapped. There’s no way out of this, Miss Vale.”

You roll your eyes, your attempt at words are too muffled to be heard behind his hand. He tilts his head to the side slightly and looks down at you, taking in the way you look completely trapped between his body and the wall. Having your eyes look up at him defiantly as he feels you struggle against his body, it’s so incredibly arousing, and it’s making his skin burn.

But is it just pleasure, or is it an actual fire?

You strike a flame with the Thomas Wayne lighter you’d slipped from the breast pocket of his jacket just 42 hours before. The one you’d originally given to him the first night you met. It was still in your other hand, clamped in your sweaty palm. With the flame lit, you angled it close to Crane’s hip and waited for him to react. Crane pauses for a moment and looks down.

“You fucking bitch-” he cusses and he releases you from his grip and bats the flame away with his hand. “You just ruined one of my favorite suits…”

Crane drops his hold on you momentarily and you try to catch your breath as he examines the edge of his suit jacket and the inflamed spot of flesh below the fabric, flashing you a deadly look. His dark hair has fallen into his icy blue eyes, making him look reptilian.

“I can’t make this too easy for you, I’m sure you understand.” You scowl, your chest heaving.

“That was a nice try, Miss Vale. However, I’m afraid that I’m not deterred just yet,” his low voice sounds manic, unpredictable.

“I assume as much,” You snap the lighter closed and puff a strand of hair out of your flushed face. You may want this as much as Crane, but fighting is equally as fun.

“So what? You think you can get away from me?” Crane steps in again, looking down at you with a challenging smile. You shrug and scowl up at him, your thighs shaking as you notice the smell of his cologne. Crane laughs at your shrug and cocks his head to the side, his jaw clenching for a moment.

“Ok then,” he continues, “Go ahead, pet. Let’s see what you can do. Try to get away from me.”

“Such a gentleman,” you give a false smile and toss the lighter up and down. Suddenly striking a flame, you throw the lighter at Crane and dive for your gun all the way across the room near the door to your bedroom. Crane ducks his head to avoid the lighter, his reflexes quicker than you anticipate. He watches as you dive for the gun and laughs, taking his time, unconcerned with your attempt to reach the gun in the dark.

“Ah, ah, ah. That’s cheating, darling,” he clucks his tongue and steps slowly towards you.

“I made the fucking rules,” you manage to say as you scramble in the dark for the gun.

Crane frowns and rolls his eyes. He steps over you quickly, grabbing a fistfull of hair on the back of your head and pulling you back.

“Perhaps but I’m the one who started this game. And I’m the one who’s going to win it,” his voice is low and nearly inaudible as he turns you over. You grab the gun just in time and turn it on him, both hands angling the gun at his pale face above you.

Crane stops mid-step and smirks slowly, his hands rising in surrender. His head turns partly to the side and he regards you with a cocky and unconcerned sidelong glance.

“Are you going to shoot me with that, Miss Vale?” Something flickers in his eyes and you shrug, unable to decide whether you’re pissed off or turned on.

“I don’t know yet.”

Crane scoffs and looks you up and down as you lie on the floor beneath him. Your shirt has ridden up to your ribs, exposing your plain cotton underwear. He clenches his jaw and turns out his lip in a show of restraint. His eyes are glued to your thighs.

“God, look at you. You’re such a damn tease,” he jerks his head at your underwear, his arms still raised.

“Funny, that’s what all of my ex-boyfriends said before I dumped them. Maybe they just couldn’t handle temptation,” you sneer back, the gun still trained on Crane’s sour expression.

Crane chuckles at your response and braves a step closer. When you don’t shoot him immediately, he decides to push you further.

“They couldn’t handle you at all… but I can.”

“I’d like to see you try,” you sass back with a smile. You keep smiling until Crane jumps on top of you, knocking the gun out of your hand again. You try to struggle away immediately but he yanks you back into place on the floor beneath him. Crane holds your wrists down and grits his teeth, his glasses slipping down his nose slightly.

“Oh believe me, I’m going to try my hardest, Miss Vale.”

As the words leave his mouth he lowers his head to your neck, dragging his tongue along your throat. Then he begins to suck gently, his teeth nipping at the thin skin above bands of muscles. His lips pause just below your earlobe and he smiles, exhaling against the skin.

“You taste so good, darling…”

You whimper softly, trying your best to hold it in. The last thing you want at the moment is for Crane to know how turned on you actually are. You can feel Crane smirk again against your throat. He moves one of his hands to your hip, the other now holding both of your wrists above your head. The hand on your hip slides over the soft pouch of flesh above your navel. His warm fingers follow the natural dip between your ribs and then back down to your stomach. You bite your lip, muffling the dirty sounds slipping from your mouth at his experienced touch.

“Do you like that, darling? Look at you… finally starting to submit,” he whispers and changes the direction of his hand. His fingers move back up your stomach, slipping below the bunched up hem of your shirt to find one of your breasts. His middle finger circles the hardened breast before slowly making the circle smaller until the pad of his finger teases your nipple.

In his moment of distraction, you use your knee to force him off of you, spinning him around and landing on top. Crane looks up at you, surprised to find you straddling him now. Before he can open his mouth to speak, you slap him hard against his cheek. His smile changes immediately to a sneer as he grabs your wrists and flips you over again, slamming you down against the floor. Finding strength in your adrenaline, you push him back and you both end up rolling around on the floor, knocking furniture and lamps down as you move. Finally, you shove him away long enough to launch yourself from the floor. You scramble into your bedroom and make it a few steps before you feel Crane’s hand grab your shoulder and spin you around. He pulls you flush against him and time seems to stand still as you look at one another.

And then you’re kissing, kissing as if you’ll never kiss another person again. Crane hands hold your face, pulling your mouth against his. You moan against his mouth, stumbling back and forth, grappling at his suit jacket for balance. Crane forces you backwards until you fall back on your bed. Temporarily apart, Crane swipes your papers from the comforter, knocking over the lamp on your nightstand. As the lamp crashes onto the floor, the room is thrust into semi-darkness with only the city lights of Gotham to illuminate your bodies.

Crane kisses you again, finding your body on the bed. You push his suit jacket off his shoulders and immediately start to unbutton his starched shirt. Crane moves his mouth over your body, kissing whatever exposed skin he can find. When his shirt is off, he grabs the bottom of your shirt and pulls it off, throwing it across the room where it knocks a picture from the wall. There are no words of praise or desire, no speaking, just heavy breathing and desperate moans.

Only when you are completely disrobed does Crane pause, looking down at you. His eyes trail over the peaks of your nipples and the valley between your breasts, glistening with sweet sweat. His hand passes over one of your breasts, his palm flat. Your nipple rubs against his rough skin and you moan, your thighs twitching. Crane wets his lips and does it again, watching for your reaction. When he’s satisfied, he handles your breast roughly, squeezing it and lowering his mouth once again to your neck, biting you gently.

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, and by far the most dangerous.”

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

@m0thh3ad @sl-newsie @strangeobsessed @cillamity

81 notes · View notes