#christan bale

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

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

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

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

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

bury a friend- Billie Eilish 🎶

i 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you find control attractive?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Then who, may I ask, are you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what is it that I’m afraid of?” 

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

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

“Being found out…” 

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

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

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

“So far,” he sighs. 

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

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

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

“Thomas Wayne.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“And why would I tell you that?” 

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

“You’re bluffing.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You admire me?” 

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where did you get this, Miss Vale?”

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

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

“It would be mine too.” 

“Against Thomas Wayne?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crane raises an eyebrow, impressed by your thoroughness. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Dr. Crane.”  

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

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

“Goodnight, Miss Vale.” 

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

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

“I’m sure.”

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

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

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

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

“Damn you…"

[e-nonsense]

DAD I’M FROM THE FUTURE

pairing. bruce wayne x daughter!reader

warnings. time travel shenanigans, canon typical violence

summary. reader is Bruce’s daughter from the future.

a/n. i was watching the batman trilogy last night and this came to me. doesn’t follow the dark knight timeline, gonna do a battinson one later.

You’d gotten yourself in quite the situation, messing around in Central City helping out the speedsters with their problems and then accidentally getting yourself thrown back in time. You landed somewhere familiar at least, Gotham City just.. older, less advanced.

From when you were younger, lucky for you the people of Gotham tried to mind their business, nobody spared a glance at the girl in a batsuit, dark purple and a gold orange. Despite the streets looking different the path wasn’t.

You worked your way across the rooftops, swiftly and agile. You made it to Wayne manor in a matter of minutes, going through an open window on the highest floor and creeping through the halls quietly and down to entrance of the cave.

Pressing the three notes on the piano in the centre of the room the hidden door behind the glass shelves swinging open, you step through into the old elevator, going down.

What you don’t know is that Bruce is already waiting for you down there, watching on the cameras. “Who is that?” He asks Alfred, who merely shrugs in response. “Not a clue, Master Bruce.”

The elevator hits the underground floor, before you twist to the side out of the way of a batarang coming your way. “What the hell?” You scowl, dodging when you’re lunged at, you move to hit back but are stopped by Bruce’s hand catching your wrist.

“Let go,” you mutter, he doesn’t budge. “Bruce!” You shout, the name foreign on your tongue.

You see his eyes widen behind the mask and he steps back, “how do you know my name?”

“Let go and I’ll explain.” You retort, his eyes scan your suit, hardened Kevlar plates on titanium-dipped tri-weave fibres, just like his suit.

“Fine,” he releases your wrist, crossing his arms and watching as you pull your mask off. “I’m from the future,” you say, “a future where you’re my dad.”

Alfred chokes on the tea he was drinking and Bruce shoots him a look. “You don’t believe me, i get it. No proof, but dad— Bruce you gotta believe me. Everything i know is because of you.”

Bruce stares, “why’d i take you in?”

He almost smiles at the look that flashes through your eyes, hope, care, pride. “You saved me, you saved all of us. We were like you, orphaned, well me and Dick at least. You didn’t want us to go down the same path as you did, so you taught us.”

Something about you reminded Bruce of himself, a version of him that was happy, younger. “Why’re you here?” He asks, hesitantly taking his mask off, you know better it’s a show of trust, he’s giving you a chance.

“You know Flash? I got mixed up helping out speedsters, got into a fight and thrown back in time. Not sure how long I’ll be here until they figure where in time I’m stuck.” You say, “but shouldn’t be too long.”

“Hm,” he hums gruffly, you don’t take offence to his lack of response, it’d be more concerning if he gave you actual words. Your eyes flicker to the array of screens behind you, case files on the desk, pictures of bodies. “The Riddler case?” You ask, Bruce raises a brow at you.

“You know about it?”

“I’m a little rusty on the details but i can help?” He doesn’t say no as he turns away, despite this not being your Bruce, you could still read him.

MEANWHILE

Barry grunts as he’s slammed into the wall, Bruce scowling down at him. “What do you mean you lost her?” Bruce hisses.

“I mean she’s gone, Bruce. Thrown through time,” Barry groans, breathily due to the way Bruce’s forearm is pressed to his neck.

“Bruce, cmon. We need him to get her back,” Dick, ever the voice of reason.

“We have other speedsters,” Bruce scoffs, his signature glare present. Despite wanting to break every bone is Barry’s body, Bruce lets him go. “How do we find her?”

“Thats easier, magic.” He hears from behind, Zatara.

“This isn’t a league mission,” Bruce mutters.

“But you need us,” Dick adds, Bruce doesn’t deny it, he’s not a speedster or a sorcerer. Dick takes his silence as a ‘good to go’, motioning for the rest of them to begin. “This is hers,” Dick says, handing Zatara a fluffy blanket with the Flash logo on the back.

Barry can’t help the little smile that crosses his lips, you’ve always been one of his biggest fans. he remembers the first time he met you, you were at least seven years old, and you just stared at him silently. eyes wide with adoration, and later you mentioned the Flash being your hero.

His smile drops when he sees the glare Bruce throws his way.

—

“So dad— Bruce, sorry man. Keep forgetting,” you grin sheepishly at the Batman, he doesn’t reply per usual.

“What’s the story here?”

“Nothing,” he replies dryly as you spin in his chair, he seems unamused but sighs and keeps his mouth shut, letting you enjoy the little things. Alfred steps in, setting a plate of cookies and two glasses of milk down on an empty spot on the table trashed with stacked up files and strewn papers.

“We’re not children—” Bruce complains before cutting himself off when you eagerly reach for a glass and a cookie, Bruce cracks an amused smile, before nodding a silent thanks to Alfred. The butler chuckles before making his leave.

“How long until I— your dad comes for you?” Bruce questions, with a raised brow, taking a glass for himself.

“Should be soon, you’ve probably got everyone busting their asses to get me home.”

Home. It’s a strange concept to him, that anyone else, let alone a dozen children think of his manor as a home, let alone him as one too.

“You’re a good dad, B.”

You pause for a moment before continuing, “i mean you have your moments of… less good dad moments but overall. You do great with us, you’re gonna doubt it a lot a times. But you gotta remember in the future you’re not alone anymore.”

He stays silent, “I’ve enjoyed this,” he admits.

“The idea of having a daughter, let alone more kids. I like it, I can see why i adopt all of you in the future, especially you. I know I’m doing right if you’ve turned out like this, you’re a good kid, and a great hero.”

You want to cry, you always do when you hear him praise you. But the moment is cut short when Barry is suddenly in the middle of the cave.

You shoot up, “Barry?”

“Kid!” The speedster grins, he’s at your side in less than a second. “You had me worried, i thought Bruce was gonna kill me— oh hi Bruce.”

Your father — past father? future father? — seems unimpressed, glaring at the man in red. A hole rips through the air, and through it you can see your father, current dad, you can see the worry in his eyes, the sight of his greying hair all too familiar, comforted by the sight of him.

Beside him you see Zatara in some soft of trance, you don’t question it as you rush forwards towards the portal to get to your dad. Before you can pass through you turn back around rushing back to past Bruce’s side.

Bruce’s arms wind around you when you topple in his arms, hugging him tightly, “thank you.” You whisper, your dad watches from the other side of the portal, his heart twisting, he knows how much this would mean to past Bruce.

“How do i find you?” Bruce asks softly, he holds you tightly, not wanting to let you go.

“Don’t worry, I’ll find you.” You reply, pulling away. “I promise.”

He lets you go, with the promise that you’ll find each other. You’ll find your way home, you know that much. You’ll find your dad, whether he exists in whatever universe you’re in or not. You’ll always find Bruce Wayne, whether its his memory or a picture of him, whether he’s real or fake.

You and Barry make your way through the portal as it closes, past Bruce can see the relief in his future selfs eyes once you’re back with him.

Nobody sees how later that night your dad doesn’t leave your side, the fear of ever losing you settling in.

He’ll savour whatever moments he can get with you now.

© e-nonsense. do no copy/steal/translate. do it and I’ll bite your toes off

[melvillefawn444]

[reveryfics]

Dirty Laundry

Pairings: Bruce Wayne x Masc reader

Summary: You'd been dating Bruce for a little over a year now. One afternoon while helping Alfred with laundry you notice a cape was stuffed in with his things.

A/n: This can either be read as male or ftm reader since he/him pronouns are used when referring to the reader. I also have another fic in the drafts. Batman is also one of my favorite superheros, so expect more of him in the future.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The rhythmic hum of the washing machine filled the air, a mundane task made slightly less so by the occasional banter with Alfred. "Quite a week, wouldn't you say, Alfred?" he remarked, tossing another shirt into the machine.

"Indeed, sir," Alfred replied, his voice a steady baritone. "Quite a week indeed."

As he reached for another load, his fingers brushed against something unusual. It was sleek, black, and oddly familiar. Pulling it out, he realized it was a cape. A cape. The cape. The one that had been making headlines, the one belonging to the mysterious figure known as Batman.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through him. He'd seen the news reports, the hushed whispers, the awe-inspiring feats. And now, here it was, in his very hands. A tangible link to the legend.

With a mixture of disbelief and a growing sense of unease, he excused himself, the cape clutched tightly in his fist.

He strode towards the living room, his mind racing. He couldn't wait to confront Bruce, to demand answers, to understand the enigma that was his boyfriend.

The door clicked shut behind Bruce, who shrugged off his coat and tossed it over a chair. He looked up, his face falling as he saw his boyfriend standing there, the cape still clutched tightly in his hands.

"I can explain," Bruce offered, a hint of desperation in his voice.

His boyfriend's expression was unreadable, a dangerous sign. "You'll do more than explain, Bruce," he said, his voice low and menacing.

Bruce ran a hand through his hair, ushering his boyfriend to a seat before summoning Alfred to bring them some tea. An awkward silence settled over the room, the tension palpable as Bruce struggled to find the right words. He'd always been terrible at expressing his emotions, a flaw he'd promised to address early in their relationship.

"I had to keep you safe," Bruce whispered, his voice barely audible. "No... I had to keep myself safe," he admitted, his voice growing stronger.

His boyfriend knew Bruce's reluctance to confront his feelings, but he'd never called him out on it. "You don't trust me?" he asked, his voice cracking.

Bruce's emotions were starting to boil over, the weight of his mistake heavy on his shoulders. "I do trust you," he began, but was cut off.

"Do you?" his boyfriend demanded.

"Of course I trust you," Bruce sighed, "I just can't risk anything happening. I don't know what I'd do if someone came after you, if anyone ever found out you knew Batman." For once, Bruce seemed genuinely vulnerable, truly grappling with his emotions.

The room fell silent, the only sound the gentle clinking of teacups as Alfred set them down. He stared at Bruce, his expression softening. He understood the fear that had driven Bruce to such lengths, the desire to protect the one he loved. But he also understood the pain that secrecy had caused, the strain it had put on their relationship.

"Bruce," he began, his voice gentle, "I understand. I understand the fear, the need to protect yourself and me. But you can't keep secrets from me. We're a team, remember? We face everything together."

Bruce looked at his boyfriend, his eyes filled with gratitude and relief. "I know," he said, "I'm sorry. I'll try to be more open, more honest."

"I know you will," his boyfriend replied, reaching out to take Bruce's hand. "From now on, we face this together. No more secrets, no more lies. Just us."

As they sat there, holding hands, the weight of the past seemed to lift. The future, uncertain as it was, held the promise of a stronger, more honest love. And as they sipped their tea, the rhythmic hum of the washing machine faded into the background, replaced by the comforting sound of their shared silence.

The next day, Bruce led his boyfriend through the hidden passages of Wayne Manor, each twist and turn revealing a deeper layer of the secret world he inhabited. Finally, they stood before the massive, imposing door of the Batcave.

"This is it," Bruce said, his voice filled with a mixture of pride and apprehension.

With a heavy sigh, he opened the door, revealing the cavernous space bathed in the eerie glow of computer screens and advanced technology. The Batmobile, sleek and powerful, stood sentinel in the center of the room.

His boyfriend's eyes widened in awe as he took in the spectacle. "This is incredible," he whispered.

Bruce smiled, a sense of relief washing over him. "I know," he said. "It's...a lot."

As they explored the Batcave, Bruce explained the purpose of each piece of equipment, the challenges he faced, and the dangers he encountered. He spoke openly and honestly, revealing a side of himself that he'd rarely shared before.

His boyfriend listened intently, his heart filled with a mix of admiration and concern. He knew the toll that this life took on Bruce, the constant fear and the overwhelming responsibility. But he also saw the passion that fueled Bruce, the desire to make a difference, to protect the innocent.

As they stood in the Batcave, surrounded by the symbols of Bruce's secret identity, a sense of unity grew between them. They were a team, a partnership forged in trust and understanding. And as they walked back to the manor, hand in hand, they knew that their love was stronger than any secret, any fear, any challenge.

[reignthemain]

uuurrrrppppp 🗣️ excuse me…..trans Patrick and furry patrick…his fursona is a gazelle fsr…UUUURRR-

[obliviand]

You people don’t think Patrick Bateman is hot you just think Christian Bale covered in blood is hot

[vengeancev]

Batman is amazing why dont the hoes at school talk about him 😪😪😪🙏🙏🙏

[utt3rly-1nsan3]

erm akctually

[dudja]

Mac vs. Batman #Mac #Batman #BruceWayne #ChristianBale #MichaelCaine #itsalwayssunnyinphiladelphia

[rancidmiless]

they are in love

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

I Can Fix That... Pt 4 | Jonathan Crane x fem!character

summary: Crane plans to return to Gotham with the young detective. Their relationship has changed from enemies to lovers, to partners in crime and it strains their ability to trust one another. Will their relationship be able to stand the pressure of Gotham's crime community? And will Crane stay sane enough to protect her?

warnings: recalls back to drugging and violence, fighting, guns, physical violence, betrayal, trust issues.

word count: 6368k

Bury a Friend- Billie Eilish 🎶

More parts to come!

Recap if needed ( I did lol):

Detective Y/N Y/L/N was one of Gotham’s finest until she overstayed her welcome in Dr. Jonathan Crane’s lab one night. After a lesson on fear and desire, Dr. Crane couldn’t let her go and introduced her to his partner in crime, Ra’s al Ghul. After being with Crane, the young detective could no longer deny the insatiable criminal desire brewing in her and decided to join the men of the League of Shadows. When she and Crane are betrayed by al Ghul, Crane falls back on his backup plan and they escape to his childhood home outside of Gotham city. A night alone together with the ghosts of his past come back to haunt them but bring them even closer together. Secrets are exposed and bonds are cemented as Crane reveals to the young detective her true identity. Learning that she was the daughter of the Arkhams who founded Arkham Asylum but were murdered by Thomas Wayne, she adopts the name her parents gave her when she was born and becomes Matilda Y/N Arkham. She learns that Crane has his own ties to the Wayne family, bringing them even closer together. And piecing her past together gives her the confidence she needed to be her own person and leave her original naiveté behind. She emerges from this conversation as Lady Arkham and agrees to return to Gotham with Crane. 

i 

Her eyes snapped to his as he explained his strategy, his face dangerously close. 

“Ra’s failed. It's all over the news now. Batman swooped in and saved the day,” he pursed his lips. “I even got an honorable mention. ‘Dr. Jonathan Crane of Arkham Asylum escapes Gotham during mass hysteria, his whereabouts unknown!’” He donned a commercial accent of a newspaper man and went back to his desk, pulling out a pair of silver-rimmed glasses, a backup that he kept in his desk in Crane House. When he put them on she couldn’t mistake him for anyone else any longer, he was the infamous Dr. Jonathan Crane.

“Any news on Ra’s? What happened to him?” She folded her arms across her chest and puffed a strand of hair out of her face. 

“They believe he went down with the high speed rail as it carried the micro-wave emitter into a different sector of the city but who knows?” He smiled and shrugged, a hint of his old Scarecrow mannerisms came back into play as he talked. The slip in sanity or just the cool, steely composure that Crane usually donned was exciting, she felt that rush again like the night at Arkham when he had been drugged. He was the Scarecrow again even without the toxin. “They know me, of course, but you,” he pointed down at her chest, his finger brushing her sternum, “they have no idea what you’ve done.” 

“Does that mean we’re going back to Gotham city, Scarecrow?” 

“Yes, it does.” He nodded and paced the room for a moment, his forehead now creased in concentration. 

“Then what do you need me to do?” She smiled and perched on the edge of the desk, crossing her legs and leaning forward to listen. He stopped in front of her and cleared his throat, changing characters. 

“You will return to Gotham and stumble into the hospital, dazed and bewildered, still feeling the effects of the fear toxin. You will be treated and Sgt. Gordon will hear that you have turned up and change your missing person status to found,” he talked as if he were teaching a class. She recrossed her legs and he gave her a warning glance, ‘wait until he was finished,’ it said. “I will get the folders of your birth certificate and evidence to you once you leave the hospital and after a few days, you will show them to Sgt. Gordon. When he asks why and how you were able to find this information-”

“I’ll tell him that I discovered the cold case while helping the city restore their records after the chaos.”

“And by some miracle, you uncovered the truth after a little extra digging.”

“But what if Gordon doesn’t want to dig up old controversies? What if he still has a soft spot for the Waynes?” 

“If he does, take the records to the hospital and get a DNA test and run it alongside the medical records the hospital had at your birth, it's all there.” He gestured to the folder beside her and cleaned the panel of glass in his glasses before restoring them to his face. 

“And that will rightfully reestablish me as Matilda Y/N Arkham.” 

“Heir to the Arkham fortune- Arkham Asylum, which finds itself in need of a new director, one with a solid, law-abiding reputation.”

“And a good name.” She added. “Though I like yours better.” She flirted and he chuckled. 

“Then you can have it,” he cocked his head, “but only if you do this well.” 

She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not but it turned her on nonetheless. 

“That sounds manipulative to me.”

“You’d know if I was manipulating you,” he smirked darkly. 

“And that sounds like gaslighting.” 

“No, it's a lesson on basic psychology,” he licked his lips, “Now pay attention,” he scolded her and she forced herself to be quiet as Crane continued with his plan. 

“When you become Arkham’s newest director, our work will finally begin. I have some people I want you to meet but the time will come for that and first, we need to focus on getting you back to Gotham.” He smiled with a wild look in his eye and she shivered… Scarecrow. 

“Is it safe to fly back? Won’t people see us” Matilda looked down at the watch on her wrist. They both knew that it wasn’t dark enough outside to return unnoticed. 

“We aren’t going to fly back.” 

“Then how…” she trailed off. Crane crossed his arms across his chest and leaned against the large desk behind them. His crazed face ignited a strange excitement in her and suddenly, she knew exactly what he had in mind. The sewer lines. 

“Because we dried up the main waterline in Gotham, we’ll be able to travel through the empty sewers… back into Gotham.” He smirked haughtily and launched himself off of the table with the subtle quickness of a cat. 

“He was right,” Matilda smiled. Crane cocked his head to the side but before he could ask her what she meant, she answered him. 

“Ra’s. He called you a criminal mastermind that night in your apartment.” 

Crane rolled his eyes and laughed tightly, “I hope that was the only thing he was right about.” 

“What do you mean?” She furrowed her brow. Crane looked back at her and shrugged his narrow shoulders slightly. His eyes traveled down her body and then back up. 

“It all comes down to trust, detective.”

She lowered her head and nodded at her feet. She didn’t know how to respond to something like that. The topic of trust had come up countless times over the past few days and yet, could they ever really trust each other? She thought so. Crane noticed her change in behavior and clicked his tongue affectionately. “Ra’s didn’t know anything about trust. The man couldn’t even trust himself. I’ll admit, I didn’t trust you in the beginning, not even until last night, but right now in this very moment, I realize how much I’ve relied on you over the past few days. You are my sole reason for survival and I understand that now.” 

Matilda smiled and kissed Crane sharply across the mouth. Her teeth caught his bottom lip and he encouraged her by pulling her face closer to his. His fingers were pressed so harshly against her cheek that he could nearly trace the lines of teeth in her jaw. They broke apart and rested their foreheads together, exchanging breath. 

“Are you ready to earn your new title, Lady Arkham?” Crane smirked and handed her the file from his desk. 

“I’ve already earned it, doctor.” 

ii

She didn’t pack a bag, that wouldn’t make sense in case she was busted by Gordon on her way back into the city. Instead, she changed into what she had worn the day before: black slacks and a navy sweater. She fastened her gun back into its holster around her waist and looped her police badge around her neck. The collar of the sweater managed to hide the thin necklace of bruises from where Crane had choked her while under the influence of his own fear serum. 

In her moments alone, Matilda mulled over her recent revelations. Never once could she have guessed that her parents were actually the Arkhams and in charge of Gotham’s most notorious asylum before they had been murdered. Thomas Wayne had taken everything from her and done the same to Crane. The Waynes would take and take and take until the entire city was desperate, damaged, and deplorable. Thomas Wayne had made the city like this, a place where someone needed to be the hero, and what had his son become? Bruce Wayne was a socialite and the golden boy of Wall Street locker-room talk. Who needed a real hero when a spoiled, chauvinist jerk could use haughty architecture to distract the masses? 

She would avenge her parents one way or another and she didn’t even need Crane’s help to do it. Ever since he’d introduced her to his fear serum, it had unlocked a part of her psychosis that complimented his criminal genius too well to be a coincidence. He’d seen this part of her since the very beginning, in his eyes, she’d already proven herself, she’d already become Lady Arkham. The cruel find each other and the vengeful do too. Gone were the days when she questioned the morals of Crane’s methods, now she would join him in resetting the precedent. Together, they would make a new Gotham… or tear it apart. She hadn’t decided yet. Fuck it. 

Crane wore all black, turning himself into a shadow or the hard edge of black onyx. He slipped a pistol into his front pocket and slipped his scarecrow mask into a safe place along the lining of his jacket. There were dark lines beneath his eyes and a twitch in his smile: both symptoms that his sanity was starting to slip. Ra’s had betrayed him but looking on the bright side (as if), it had provided a new perspective. He could turn his attention to a more important foe, the one Gotham called Batman. 

“I know you’re there,” Crane called out, interrupting his own thoughts.

Matilda stepped out from behind the cracked door. Crane was fixing his jacket in the mirror and brushed off his chest. 

“Why do you still feel the need to spy on me, detective?” 

“Call it a kind of kink, whatever you want, but it's an instinct at this point. Years in the Gotham police department makes you into a great eavesdropper if you want to stay informed.” 

“I’m not one to judge by any means, darling, but lurking in the shadows? How… unsettling.” Crane clucked his tongue in mock-pity. 

“Do you have a diagnosis, doctor?” She leaned against the doorframe with her hands at the small of her back. 

“I’d have to do an examination.” Crane met her at the door and brushed his pointer finger against the edge of her jaw. 

“Kinky-”

Crane rolled his eyes and switched off the light in his room, having to reach over her shoulder to do so. 

“Oh… you have no idea, detective,” Crane’s dark whisper greeted her in the dark room as he pressed his body against hers. He took her hands from behind her back and pushed them up above her head. His tone became serious as he addressed her. 

“You’re a smart girl, detective so I’m sure you’ve already surmised how important this is. Do as I say and we’ll both get back into Gotham alive, alright?” His voice was curt, like a stern warning but his lips were occupied, whispering across her cheek but never kissing her. “I’d like you better alive.” He added and pulled her through his bedroom door into the bright hallway. 

“Then keep me alive.” She retorted and blinked away the brightness of the room. She could hear Crane’s quiet chuckle behind her as she raced ahead. 

They left out the grand front door. She paused to look back at the large and beautiful house behind them, its windows dark and uninviting. She hoped she’d be back. 

“What did you tell Hobbs that we were leaving? Does he know?” She hurried to keep up with Crane who was already a few paces ahead. He paused to chuckle and shake his head, his dark hair shifting in place. 

“Your concern for others is touching, truly. They know but they don’t know everything. They know what I want them to.” 

“Do you think we’ll come back here?” She asked as they maneuvered through the high grass. Brambles snapped against their pants and she struggled to keep herself from slipping on rocks hidden in the dark ridges of Gotham’s countryside. Crane stopped in his tracks and turned to her abruptly, his eyes reflecting the light of the gibbous moon. 

“Would you like that?” He raised an eyebrow. The house had offered him no comfort before, only bad memories and nightmares, but with the girl, maybe he could learn to live with the ghosts of his past. But could it be possible? Did she like Crane House even after seeing its cold interior and brittle bones? She came to a stop and tried to catch her breath. 

“I would, yes,” she nodded and glanced back at the house, its outline barely visible without the interior lights. “I think the house is the key to understanding Dr. Jonathan Crane…” she smiled and fixed a strand of gelled hair out of Crane's pale face. 

“But do you mean it?” Crane caught her hand and held it, his heart was pounding. Honestly, it was embarrassing. She’d never seen him so desperate before. A piece of him was down on his knees before her, begging for commitment and affirmation. Even the toughest of men will break before a good woman. Matilda gave Crane a small smile and nodded. 

“I do.” 

Crane released a short breath and cleared his throat. She bit her lip to keep from giggling. Had she flustered the great Dr. Crane? 

“Well in that case. I want you to come back and live with me after this is all over.” Crane told her calmly, not asking. 

They passed the hill with the scarecrow but Crane didn’t even notice. Matilda looked over at his pace face, glowing in the offcast light. He was a villain, he was not bred to be trusted. Could she live with someone that she’d always question his loyalty? That didn’t seem like a very healthy relationship but honestly, that wasn’t the worst of their problems. Remember the lab table? The dubious consent? Whatever, she could change him. 

iii

They approached the mouth of the sewer offshoot in cautious silence. Crane pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose but the beads of sweat dripping from his hairline acted against him. The tunnel was dark and ominous like a large open mouth ready to close at any sign of movement. Crane pulled a long flashlight from his jacket and shone it into the mouth of the tunnel. The light barely pilfered the massive darkness, making Matilda shake her head in disbelief. 

“Why do I feel like this is a very bad idea?” She whispered with a wary smile. Crane chuckled darkly and lowered his light slightly, illuminated the ground. 

“Don’t tell me you’re scared of the dark, detective?” His smirk was unmistakable even in the dark. She felt old pangs of annoyance rise inside her from dealing with the old Crane back in Gotham as a detective. She sighed curtly and pulled the gun from her holster. 

“Not scared, just careful.” 

“Well you can stop being careful now, darling. You’re playing with the big boys now.” 

“Shut it, Crane.” She shushed him and aimed into the tunnel with her gun. They slowly walked into the open sewer system and left Gotham’s countryside (and pleasantry) behind them. They tried to dampen the sound of their footsteps by treading softly but the acoustics betrayed their every move.

“While we’re down here, I should tell you a little about my friends,” Crane broke the silence with a lowered voice. Matilda could just make out his silhouette in the flashlight’s glare.  

“You have friends?” She deadpanned back and Crane sighed, shaking his head. 

“Don’t push it detective, I’m the one who knows the way to Gotham. You’d be lost down here without me.” 

“Don’t give yourself too much credit.”

“You’re feisty today… I like it,” Crane broke into a large, devilish grin and laughed despite himself. 

They continued down the series of dry, empty passageways until they reached a large rotunda. The light from the flashlight was useless in lighting the whole room but it didn’t matter because Crane switched off the light, dropping them into sudden darkness. 

“What the fuck?” She whispered but Crane didn’t respond. She could hear him walking away but the darkness and echoes disoriented her and she couldn’t tell which direction he had gone. 

“Crane,” she hissed but still no response came. And one more reason why she couldn’t fully trust the man/criminal mastermind. She imagined for a moment that he was actually leaving her in the dark. Why would he go through all of that  just to abandon her down here? That is to say unless there was a reason why they were there in that specific room. Matilda shook as she raised the pistol once again to her eye level and waited for any sign of danger. She’d prepared for this in the police academy. She’d graduated first in her class. Some hide-in-the-dark game wasn’t going to distract her from her talent as a police officer in Gotham. Whatever the hell was about to happen, she was ready. 

She felt it before she knew what hit her. 

A fist slammed into her gut, knocking her off-balance. She regained control quickly and stabilized herself, panting. The size of the hand was larger than Crane’s. Someone else was with them in the dark. She anticipated his next move which came from the side, so she ducked and used the opportunity to kick her opponent wherever she could. A grunt told her that she had been successful in landing her blow. She rolled to the side and barely avoided a kick to her ribs, nearly squealing in surprise. The gun was swept out of her hand and she could hear it skid across the crude concrete floor. It was too far away now, she’d have to fight with her fists. When she jumped to her feet, she danced around in the dark, quick on the balls of her feet to outrun whoever her attacker was. 

“This isn’t a fair fight, you know.” She growled out. She was met with frustrating silence. Where the hell was Crane? She could smell the body beside her so she threw a punch and yelled out when her knuckles came into contact with ribbed steel. It felt like a machine of some sorts but it was connected to the thing she was fighting. Shaking out her wounded hand she tried to duck the next punch but it still caught her in the shoulder. Anger was welling up inside her as she tried to dance around her opponent. She was ready to fucking kill whoever this person was. There was no way she’d die in a sewer so soon after she’d learned about her true identity. That wasn’t going to happen, not to her. 

She screamed as she punched the figure beside her, striking a bare chest and knocking the man back. She followed him as he moved backwards, landing punches against muscle and an armor-like material. He shoved her backwards with impressive strength and she fell to the ground, cringing.

When she stood, she sensed a flurry of movement and braved a blind punch. It landed but the body was different. 

“You must be kidding me, there are two of you fuckers?” She hissed and landed a second punch where she believed a jaw would be. She missed, and as her fist sailed through the air, a well-placed kick hit her between her hip and her last rib. She screamed out in pain and lashed out, punching the figure. The figure coughed from the blow but quickly recovered. In his defenseless moment, she grabbed the man’s shoulders and raised her knee to his groin, striking him with a swift movement. Unlike most men, the attacker merely hissed and cursed beneath his breath. She knew the sound of that voice. 

“Jonathan?” She whispered in disbelief. 

“You really need to stop using that mint shampoo. I can tell exactly where you are, even in the dark.” His voice was strained as he was obviously still coping from the pain. 

“Oh yeah? Then why didn’t you see that coming? Hurts, doesn’t it?” She growled and raised her fist to punch him but his hand stopped her. She could feel his body inches from hers, a familiar chemistry sparking between them. 

“Why are you doing this?” She whispered, his hand still grasped around her raised fist. Crane sighed and drew in a long breath. She could nearly feel him shrug his shoulders before answering. 

“You need to learn how to fight anyone when forced too… even me, darling.” Crane pushed her back and smiled as she fell back. “It may surprise you to hear but hand-to-hand combat is one of my many talents. Now get up and punch me harder.”

She could hear the condensation in his unmistakable voice. She rolled to the side before crouching. Crane tried to kick her but she had already moved, giving her an opportunity to elbow a tender place on his back. He cursed and swung around hitting her jaw. She covered her mouth before she could scream out in pain and alarm. Was he trying to kill her now? 

“Fuck you,” she spat and launched herself onto him, knocking him flat on his back on the floor. She was trying to hold down his arms as he smirked. 

“You already have, remember?” 

His sentence caught her off guard, giving him the last opportunity he needed to shove her off.

“If you’d turn on the fucking lights we could fight properly, you bastard,” her lip curled up as she spoke. She wiped sweat from her forehead and tried to catch her breath. 

“Good point,” a man with a strange accent grunted somewhere beside her. In the next second, large industrial lamps suspended from the tall ceiling were turned on, blinding her after so long in the dark. She tried to look around for the man but her eyes couldn’t adjust fast enough in the sudden light. She scrambled to her feet and shaded her eyes. 

Before her she saw a man of unbelievable size. He was tall and grotesquely jacked, muscles straining against his skin. On his face he wore a dark machine with ribbed metal cables fitted to the front and connected to a tank in the center of his chest. His head was shaved, a pity really, and he wore little more than a tank top and heavy cargo pants. The large man shifted his dark goggles off of his eyes and sighed deeply. 

“You were right, Crane. She’s got potential.” 

“That’s my girl,” Crane walked out from behind her, replacing his glasses onto his face and rolled his sleeves back down. She was still breathing heavily as she looked between the two men. 

“You both need some serious couple’s therapy,” the other man observed and laughed quietly to himself. His laugh was deep and unsettling. She didn’t laugh back. Instead, she wiped a layer of blood from her lip and spat a wad of bloody saliva on the ground.   

“I appreciate the concern,” she quipped sarcastically to the stranger and turned to Crane, “ but what the hell was that? If you wanted to fight me why not do it in the light?” 

Crane nodded, acknowledging her point and smiled slowly. 

“I can answer that,” the man interjected before Crane could respond, “Your boyfriend here has been working with me for a few years now. He contacted me to inform me about a young woman who could fill one of the recently-made-available roles in our organization. However, before I could formally meet you, I wanted to see what kind of potential you had.”

“You also needed to be able to attack me if required. Personal relationships are dangerous in our line of work, which is why we cut the lights. We didn’t want you to be able to see me.”

“This is insane,” she ran her hands over her face, still fuming. She didn’t even know who this other man was. What the hell was Crane thinking?

“I know,” Crane smiled widely, his plump lips pulled back into a manic grin, “and wasn’t it fun?” 

Matilda peeked through her fingers at Crane and then moved her gaze to look at the terrifying man beside him. 

“Oh I’m sorry, where are my manners? I should introduce myself.” The man slipped his hands beneath the straps of his tank top, supporting the weight of what appeared to be a respirator. “My name is Bane.” 

“Matilda… Arkham,” she managed to reply.

“There’s a few more people you need to meet before you go back into Gotham.” Crane cupped her injured cheek and wiped the remaining blood from her chin with his thumb gently. “Remember what I said? Hmmm?” 

She looked at him with narrowed, pissed-off eyes. What kind of game was he playing now? Crane chuckled when she didn’t answer and reached behind his back. He withdrew her gun and pressed the handle into her sternum, between her breasts. 

“You’re playing with the big boys now,” he whispered against her ear.

What had she gotten herself into? 

iv 

They escorted her into a different room inside the network of underground tunnels. Much to her surprise, they had converted many of the abandoned tunnels into hideouts for members of The League of Shadows. As they entered the next room, she saw half a dozen other men in various styles of dress and disguises. She was the only woman, and even though she hated Crane at that moment, she stuck close to him. 

“Don’t be scared, darling. They’re my friends.” 

“I know, that’s why I’m worried,” she growled but still stayed close by his side. He chuckled quietly and placed a protective hand on her lower back. 

“You’ll be fine.” His voice feathered against her neck, warming the core in her navel. They really did need couples therapy. 

“Ah my friends!” Crane smiled darkly and extended his free hand to show her off to the semi-circle of criminals around them. “Welcome the newest member of the League… Lady Arkham.” 

The title on his lips sounded so perfect. She was Lady Arkham. 

The men in the room nodded. 

“She used to be one of Gotham’s ‘finest’ and now, she’s one of its worst,” Crane’s grip tightened around her waist. “She’ll be going back into the city tonight and working undercover for our cause. She’s our best and most important weapon. No one knows who she is… yet.” 

“But that is going to change,” Bane’s loud voice boomed beside them. “Soon everyone will know who she is and what kind of people she represents. Her collaboration with the police and important officials in the city is crucial to the sanctity of our plan for Gotham. That being said, she will hold her own just like any one of us, but her survival is necessary… for the meantime at least,” he cleared his throat. 

“Thank you for that vote of confidence. I’m just here for vengeance,” she addressed them all with a curt voice and small shrug.

“Oh, but darling, aren’t we all?” Crane smirked and gestured to the criminals in front of them. “You question our motives so let’s make it very clear. We’re all here for vengeance. Anything else is just a lie.” 

“Then what’s the plan that I’ve already been added to?” She raised her eyebrow. Bane sighed loudly, his respirator acting as a microphone. 

“You don’t need to know that yet, all that matters now is that we have big plans for Gotham and all of your old colleagues.”

Matilda smiled slowly and nearly started to laugh. She hated the bastards down at the police station, the ones who never believed her, supported her, or even paid attention to her. For all the men that treated her like she was a worthless addition to their force, she’d make them pay. That sounded good to her. 

“I think she likes that idea,” Crane smirked and trailed his hand up her back to a lock of hair. He tugged it gently but she felt it and was comforted by the gesture. 

“Good, then let’s get on with the introductions shall we?” Bane announced and gestured for Crane to begin, “Dr. Crane?” 

Crane nodded his head, his expression returning to a serious state of business. He let go of her and paced slowly down the line of men. 

“You’ve probably heard of most of these names from your time in Gotham, detective, but now you finally get the chance to meet them. This is the remaining roster of members after Ra’s unfortunate passing,” his lip curled and his nose scrunched as he spoke.

“The Penguin, Two-Face, Killer Croc, two of Bane’s men, and of course, the Joker.” 

Hearing the Joker’s name came as a shock to the detective. She’d been hearing his name for months. Robberies in the era had been connected to the mysterious criminal nicknamed the Joker after the playing card he always left behind. But what startled her the most was the man called Two-Face. It wasn’t his appearance but his face which was so recognizable. 

“Harvey Dent…” she heard herself whisper. Two-Face grinned and placed a hand in mock-admiration to his chest. 

“Aw, you still recognize me?” His voice was too hard to be kind but she still nodded and swallowed slowly. 

“Of course. You were supposed to be Gotham’s ‘White knight,’ it's saving grace.” 

“And who says I’m not? I plan on saving Gotham in my own way, not like Batman.”

Crane looked between Matilda and Harvey Dent, a sour expression tugging at his face. He really needed to work on his jealousy problem. Seeing Dent speak to the girl was almost more than he could handle. 

“We’re going back into Gotham tonight. Police Chief Gordon needs to see that she’s alive. Once he does, the plan begins. Understood?” Crane addressed the crowd of criminals who all nodded, except for Dent. 

“Pity, I had plans to kill Gordon’s family tonight,” Dent clucked, his half-burned lips pursed. Crane kept his expression straight and unchanging. 

“Try not to let your personal needs interfere with our work, Dent.”

“Sure thing, doc.” Dent hissed back and flipped a coin, “damn,” he whispered when he checked the face against his palm. Crane didn’t  bother to ask what he was flipping for and nodded at Bane who opened up a path for them to leave. Crane walked ahead of her and practically pulled her from the underground chamber and into the next one.

“I was flipping to see whether or not I should have gone out with the girl.”

 When they had turned the corner and were back on their way into the city she spoke up. “What happened to him?” 

Crane didn’t look over as he answered, his jaw clenched tightly in anger. 

“He lost his fiancee in a fire that was intentionally set.”

“By whom?” She interjected. 

Crane paused for a moment and sighed through his nose, “the Joker.” 

“The Joker tried to kill Dent?” 

“It’s a long story.” 

“When did this all happen?” She pushed, an eyebrow raised. “He’s Harvey Dent, I should have heard about something like this.” 

“Your department covered it up because Gordon was involved. He was the one that picked up his fiancee and took her to the place where she died.” 

“Surely he didn’t know…”

“Look,” Crane shoved her against the wall, his face inches from hers as they both panted from the startling action, “you need to decide here and now which side you’re on. The faster you realize that the people you used to know are just as corrupt as we are, the faster you can realize your potential with us… with me.” 

“It’s not that fucking easy, Crane.” She whispered harshly and struggled in his strong grip. 

“Isn’t it? Tell me where your trust lies.” 

“Well it certainly doesn’t lie with you anymore,” she freed her hands and shoved Crane away from her body, “you fucking attacked me and you let Bane attack me. I mean look at me! I’m bleeding, Crane. You did this to me,” she pointed at her busted lip. “How can I trust a man who changes so quickly, who doesn’t let me in, who doesn’t tell me things like this.”

“You were the top of your class in the police academy, you could fight anyone you wanted to. You were made to be one of us, you can’t deny that. This is what life is like in the League, you can’t trust anyone… but me. You can and need to trust me.”

Matilda shook her head, tears filling her eyes. “No,” she whispered and fought away Crane’s hands as he tried to catch her. 

“Look at me, detective. Look at me,” Crane caught her harshly in his arms and held her again against the wall. His tone was gentle though his hands holding her against the wall were rough. Slowly, she looked down at his face, half hidden in shadows. His brow was furrowed as he licked his lips and spoke.

“I only did what I had to do, detective. I would never have done anything else to seriously hurt you. I took your gun so Bane couldn’t use it, he still tried however. I hit you where it would hurt but where you could still take it because I need you to be here with me. If I wanted to kill you, detective, I would have done it the day I met you. You mean too much to me now.”

Crane cupped her face not-so-softly in his hands and turned her face up to his, pressing his mouth to her ear. 

“Listen to me, Miss Arkham…” he hissed against her cold skin, “I love you.” 

He couldn’t believe that the words were leaving his mouth as he spoke them. Every chemical compound in his body was screaming against it. Bonds were broken and reactions triggered as he confessed. Finally admitting his love for her both relieved and frightened him. It would no longer be just him, now he had a woman that he loved who required his protection, love, intelligence… But it was all true, everything he said and felt. He loved her.

Her heart leapt at his words like an electrical impulse flaring to new life. She had never expected him to say those words, the man who’d never loved before. When she looked into his eyes, she could tell that he was telling the truth because for the second time, she witnessed fear in them. When he pulled away she touched her nose to his and looked up into his sterile, silver-blue eyes, her feet finally touching the ground. 

“Are love and trust the same thing?” She asked breathlessly and Crane clenched his jaw and pursed his lips.

“They have to be.” 

They stared at each other in the yellowish light of the gas lamps suspended like flashlights above their heads. Crane’s black suit jacket and blood stained shirt looked so out of place in the tunnels. She could only imagine what she looked like in her slacks and a ruined blue sweater. The disloyal detective and the (actually) criminal psychiatrist, a match made in whatever the hell Gotham was - - heaven or hell?

“So where does your trust lie, Matilda?” Crane whispered, breaking the silence. She took a deep breath, not breaking eye-contact, and tilted her head to the side. She looked stunning in the yellow light, even with her lip busted and her jaw bruised. He could feel deep bruises developing on his own body and felt a sense of pride that she’d been the one to do that to him. She was the only one who could truly hurt him.  

“With you, Crane, and no one else.” 

With a breath of relief, Crane stepped closer. Their lips were millimeters apart as Crane cupped the back of her head with his hands and pressed against her hip with the other hand. She exhaled shakily before Crane finally kissed her, gently at first. Their eyes closed and their mouths molded together into that familiar space where everything else faded away. Crane pushed his tongue into her mouth and she moaned softly in return, melting into the cement behind her. They twisted their lips against each other as they moved their heads, wanting to taste every part of one another. He pulled her into his chest and she grabbed the back of his jacket to steady herself. His kiss hardened as she bit his lip harder than she needed to, a small act of revenge and affection. He knew that she knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold back if they kept going the way they were for much longer. Even with a pair of slacks in the way, he’d take her if given the chance and enough pent of desire to fuel it. Drawing up all the strength he could to pull back, Crane broke the kiss and met her eyes once again. 

“Gotham awaits, detective. Let’s get you home.”

...

end of Pt 4 :)

[a-reyy]

Just realized this is one of the few universes where Bruce left Gotham with Selina

[iloveplayrehersal]

This is one of the best pictures on Earth imo

[itsexclusive]

[reignthemain]

Roblox screenshot redraw I might redo it later down the line but here it is ❤️🪓💚💉

[cemyafilmarsiv]

American Hustle directed by David Owen Russell