#which makes it a perfect profession for a scarecrow | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pinguwrites · 1 month ago

Text

The Doll's Burial ⸻ Jonathan Crane

READ DISCLAIMER

pairing | jonathan crane x reader

summary | You knew Jonathan Crane was meant for you from the moment you laid your eyes on him — a brilliant man, filled with wit and curiosity and youth. So perfect, in fact, that you have to take him away from the rest of the world and make him yours, your darling doll. He’ll like it, won’t he?

word count | 9k

Warnings: NON-CON/DUB-CON, dark!reader, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, reader’s delusional and sick and sadistic but sweet ig, religious (specifically Christian) disdain from Jon , murder/torture towards jon/in general, jon isn’t scarecrow au, slightly ooc jon, p in v sex, househusband!jonathan, PROCEED WITH CAUTION - DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT COMFORTABLE

Disclaimer: This is part of my unfinished works. I don't write anymore, but I still wanted to publish what I have. I'll use bullet points to explain what I planned to happen at the end. Also note that this is heavily unedited, there will be a lot of mistakes.

You didn’t know what beauty was until you met Jonathan Crane that fateful winter’s night, a night where the season’s gentle touch had left windows glazed with frost, and the late evening coated in a thick, gloomy darkness. Crystal flakes were falling from the sky onto your body like specks of dust, but it was nothing compared to the way it looked on him, his dark hair contrasting with the white, the snow melting upon the touch of his skin. His breath was coming out in puffs of smoke before dissipating into the bitter air, his square glasses glinting in the light of the street lamps.

Time had frozen still at that moment, as though your brain had gone numb, much like the cold was numbing your ears and toes and the tips of your fingers. Licking your lips, you observed as the man — whose name you did not know then — glanced at the slim watch on his wrist, shivering ever so slightly as a breeze brushed him by. He was wearing an elegant suit, colored charcoal, the dress shirt underneath thinly striped, and his shoes polished and new, no doubt recently bought. He seemed to be an educated man with wealth, maybe a doctor or lawyer, but you guessed doctor, because he struck you as a scientific mind, curious but practical.

He wasn’t married, as he had no ring, which led you to believe that his profession took up a lot of his time and effort. After all, how could a man as gorgeous as him not be desired? Even the thought of him in bed with you set your loins alight, not to mention the slightest notion of him being yours until death do us part.

“Silly,” you had murmured to yourself, though there was a soft smile playing on your lips. “You’re thinking too far ahead, like always.”

But it really wasn’t your fault. He was so delightful to look at. Almost like a doll, with his plump pink lips and blush-dusted cheeks. You could imagine it already: a domestic life. He needn’t not lift a finger, not think a single thought, as long as he allowed you to hold him in his arms. How was it that someone who had not done anything at all to warrant such attraction, found himself at the center of your obsessiveness?

There’s something about him. Something different I cannot deny. He was unlike anyone you had ever seen before, anyone you would ever see in the future. It was strange how humans worked, heart so easily manipulated. What was it that caught your attention in the first place? you wondered. The aesthetic of the scene? His simple presence in the emptiness of the street? Did it even matter anymore, now that you were so hopelessly captured by him?

“Hey, excuse me, ma’am!”

Heart thumping against your chest at the sudden noise, you answered hesitantly, “Yes?”

The man, who was raising his voice so he could be heard across the street, gave you a wary look. “Do you know when the bus will arrive? I’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes — the sign said it would arrive at seven.”

“I’m not sure,” you lied. You hadn’t expected him to talk to you. The event felt out of control, like you weren’t sure what was going to happen next. It bothered you, but if anything, this was a sign. A sign that perhaps he was the one. “I’m waiting for it as well,” you continued. “Do you mind if I cross?”

“I don’t.”

After you made sure there were no cars nearby, you walked across the road and finally got your first view of the man, finding his features, his mannerisms, his everything to be just as breathtaking as it was from a distance. He had a relatively low voice, around a medium pitch, and it was grated, almost like a vocal fry. He had these little freckles scattered across his face like distant stars in the sky. If it was possible, you would have plucked out every single one of them to store in a jar.

“I usually don’t take the bus,” you said smoothly, trying to start a conversation, though all you could focus on the way he was looking at you, his gaze piercing and icy, “but my car’s in a workshop. I thought I’d try my luck here before heading to the subway.”

Your car wasn’t in a workshop. It was in the garage parking lot just diagonal of his view. You had only gotten out because you wanted a quick coffee at the local café. Eternally grateful that you spotted him along the way, you weren’t sure what you would have done if you hadn’t. It had only been a few minutes, and you were already in love.

The man hummed in response, not seeming to take much of an interest. “I’m in a similar situation myself . . . I’ll be on my way, then,” he said, clearing his throat.

He started walking down the sidewalk to the nearest subway station, a walk you knew was going to take about a while. And in those clothes? He was most certainly going to catch a cold. If it was proper to do so, you would have offered him your own coat, but in a city like this, where no one trusted, you didn’t need to make him suspicious of your kindness. People were like animals, small critters. Approaching them too fast would scare them off. You had to be subtle, ease into it before you did anything too rash.

“Are you coming?” he asked, turning around, waiting for you to follow him. His tone was expectant, and almost humorous, like the thought of you continuing to wait for the bus was amusing to him. It made you amused. There would be work to do with his arrogance when you finally take him away, you made a mental note of that.

“No,” you responded. “I’ve changed my mind, I’ll have a friend come pick me up.”

“. . . Are you sure?” he pressed, concerned. He was concerned for you. It was so sweet.

“I’m sure,” you repeated. If you were with him for a second longer you would have gotten down on your knees and proposed.

He considered your words, then nodded. “Well, have a nice day, ma’am.”

“You as well . . . I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

“Jonathan. Dr. Jonathan Crane.”

“Jonathan,” you repeated, the word rolling off your tongue with ease. Jon-ah-thun, meaning God has given, gift of God. A gift to you, surely, or why else would he be here, standing in your presence if he wasn’t meant to be taken away? To be polite, you gave him your own name, hoping he liked it as much as you liked his, and simply said, “Have a nice day,” hiding the butterflies inside your stomach that flew around like hail in a blizzard.

Jonathan Crane, my very own doll.

+++

The chains clinked against the others in the link, the cuffs tugging against the skin, pulled so hard it restricted the blood flow. It was only then the noises stopped, and a defeated sigh left your doll’s lips. His head leaned against the wall and his posture slumped, as though he had given up. It was a shame, too. The sight of him struggling was exhilarating. It filled you with such excitement and arousal that you wished he kept going.

Currently, you were working, with your laptop placed out in front of you on your desk, some oatmeal to your right. The camera system was hooked up to the large monitor, so from here you could watch Jonathan’s movements. He had been awake since the break of dawn, the time he usually got up for work, except he wasn’t at his house today, he was in your basement, body against the cold floor, trembling like a scared bunny.

The planning was the most difficult part of this endevour. You had never actually kidnapped someone before. When you were a child, the local police suspected you in the mutilation of a few small critters in your apartment complex, and in college you were involved in the accidental death of one of your fellow students (he fell down the stairs and hit his head, nothing that anyone could prove was your fault), but to actually kidnap someone was entirely different.

It would be an ongoing investigation until the case was classified as cold, and even then some cold cases were picked up again after years; you had to make sure no could connect a link, because some people were too narrow-minded to understand how true and unconditional your adoration for him was; and not only that, but the amount of research — or stalking, as some might call it — that you had to do was exhaustive; but really, it was worth it, and Jonathan would fall for you just as you did for him within a few months, maybe a year at most. He would come to realize just how much you cared about him, and just how wonderful your life could be together. Once you arrived at that point, things would flow seamlessly. You had all the precautions in place. Even if he did try and escape, you always had a sedative in your pocket, and all the doors to your house was just as secure on the inside as it was on the outside.

The only thing you worried about was witnesses. See, Jonathan was usually very careful not to go into secluded alleyways or dingy locations on his own, which made it difficult to take him. So, you had to bump into him in a coffee shop — a coincidence, you had told him — and from there lure him out.

You sighed lovingly and gazed at Jonathan through the screen, deciding that it was time to bring him breakfast and lay out the ground rules.

After a few more minutes, you crept down the stairs with some food and water, careful not to step on any of the parts that would cause a creaking sound, and unlocked the basement with the passcode. When you opened the door, Jonathan raised his head, scooting his body away from your figure until he backed into a corner.

It was a dingy little place. It used to have carpet, but you removed that in favor of plastic tarp on the floor, nothing that could indefinitely stain the cement underneath. The walls were covered in that as well, and there was no window or clock to let him know the time. There were blankets to the side, and a small toilet to the other corner of the room. It was a good enough place for now. You hated seeing him in these conditions, but only once he proved responsible would you update him to a secured bedroom. At this point in time, he wasn’t capable of understanding things, and would only try to run away if you gave him more freedom.

Jonathan stayed quiet for a long while, and so did you, but then he scoffed. “I’m not eating that.”

Frowning, you bent down to his level. You placed the bowl in front of him, the sweet aroma of cinnamon and honey filling the stale air. “It's not poisoned, you know that.”

Jonathan did know that. He was smart enough to realize that a person wouldn’t go through all the effort of bringing him here, only to poison him. There needn’t be a conversation over this. He didn’t reach for the bowl yet, but you knew he would when you left. Eventually, hunger would get to him.

“Are you in love with me?” he asked next.

Yes, yes I am. I love you as true as the air you breathe, as blue as your eyes gleam, and as certain as the beat of your heart.

“Why do you ask?” you said instead.

“Your eyes are always dilated, you can’t keep them off of me. Not at the bus station, the coffee shop.” He paused. “You’re sick. I’m not in love with you. Whatever fantasy you have is not real.”

“You may not be in love with me now, but you will be soon.”

There was no point in hiding your intentions.

He scoffed again, head down. “Realize this, I have nothing. Whatever you want from me, I can’t give you.”

Reaching out to him, you rubbed your thumb against his skin. He was cold. Again.

“You need to learn how to keep warm,” you said, concerned. “There’s some blankets. Use them.”

Jonathan pulled away, though you could tell he wanted you to keep doing that, because for a brief moment he almost leaned into your touch and warmth. So, you did just that. You gripped his chin and forced him to look at you. He put up a bit of a struggle, but in the end, he relented, and let you caress his skin. Letting your fingers trail up his cheek to his nose, you quickly made your way to his eyelashes, his long, thick eyelashes that fluttered like a black bird’s feathers.

“I did a bit of research on you,” you said. “Just enough to make sure no one would come looking for you right away, to learn your patterns and your habits, or any other important bits of information . . . like the fact that you have a therapist.”

Jonathan looked straight into your eyes. It was almost as if, at the moment, he was more concerned about what you might have read about him than his current predicament. He didn’t want anyone to know his past, his secrets, his weaknesses. It was embarrassing, and you knew that because you read in his file — which took atrociously long to obtain — how ashamed he was of himself, how conscious.

He shoved you away, and you backed off.

“Don’t be mean,” you frowned, hurt. “It was necessary. Watching you through your window wasn’t enough to truly know you. And even now, I’m sure there’s so much I’ve missed. It’ll be nice. As long as you listen and don’t cause trouble, everything will be okay.”

“You’re delusional,” he scowled. “I’ve known enough people like you in my life to understand how you work. Once you’re tired of me, you’ll dump me and get someone new to torment.”

“That’s not true, and you’ll see that,” you protested. It broke you to know that he thought of himself as expendable. “. . . I know you need some time to think. I’ll come down in a few hours with lunch, alright?”

You took his silence as a ‘yes’.

“Good boy.”

+++

A few weeks had passed by. The snow was beginning to melt, turning into a mushy, brown sludge that you had to trudge through every morning to get to work. Admittedly, you were quite busy with your job, but you made as much time as you could for Jonathan. Your doll was in a sour mood the entire time, and after calling you a bitch and a unintelligent, perverted whore — such colorful language — he started begging you to let him go.

I won’t tell anyone. I’ll give you money. Please, I’m begging you. All clearly signs of emotional distress.

It hurt you a lot when Jonathan rejected your affection. More than you thought it would. He should be grateful that you took such an interest in him, but instead he was disgusted. Of course, he would fall for you soon, but it made you wish that he had already done so, and that too on the night you two met.

Wouldn’t it have been romantic? Love at first sight. Did you not deserve something like that? For someone to look into your eyes the way you did his and think, This is the one I want to marry. Again, you knew it would take time, but the wound still cut deep.

He was eating, which was good. One less thing to worry about. But when you checked his wrists to see if the cuffs were still locked you found them red with marks. It worried you a bit, so you applied some cream to them — or at least, tried to, with the way he was struggling and all. You did other things like bathe him, but despite how desperate you were to see his pretty cock, you never went beyond the waistline, and encouraged him to clean himself down there instead. You hoped it established some sense of trust between you two, because at least Jonathan would realize that you would never do anything to make him uncomfortable.

When you were researching Jonathan Crane — before you took him — you learned that he was a psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum. A professor at Gotham University first, but either way, it seemed that his heart lied with the sciences. You did a little internet digging and tracked his book orders, then picked something you thought he would like and was sure he hadn’t read yet.

One book on chemistry and its applications on brain science, and another on psychology, a look into real-world examples written by a doctor from the late twentieth century.

Carefully wrapping it up in light blue paper, you tied it with a navy-colored ribbon and made a bow. Your fingers lingered on the box, a little nervous about handing it over to Jonathan, but you walked downstairs with it anyways, opening the basement door and watching with satisfaction as he scurried away once again.

“It’s just a gift,” you laughed, setting it down in front of him. He watched it warily. “I want you to open it. I hope you’ll like it.”

Jonathan’s lower lip quivered, and you had a sudden desire to kiss him. Lips upon lips, heavy and sweet. Sometimes, you felt as though the only way to get close to him — truly close — was to peel off his skin and wrap it around you. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? He would die, which you didn’t want, but to think about it was enough. It was so intimate it made you hot all over.

“Please,” Jonathan muttered. “Please let me go. I’ll do anything.”

You sighed. “I don’t want to hear this again. I’ve been really patient with you. Can’t you just . . . be normal?”

“Normal?”

Oh, dear. He’s about to go into another one of his fits.

“How can you expect me to be normal when you’ve got me locked in chains?” he frowned. Surprisingly enough, he wasn’t getting upset, but rather more submissive. He wasn’t scowling or spitting in your face, but rather his head was downturned and his body language more open. Was this it? Was this the point of breaking?

“I have nothing,” he continued. “No bed to sleep in, no touch . . .”

Touch. Well, he had you, didn’t he?

“You don’t like it when I touch you,” you said.

He looked away, almost embarrassed. This doll of a man had you completely enamored, fooled, like a hopeless soul waiting for the heavens. Anything he did, anything he said, would make you fold in a heartbeat. If he asked you to go get the moon, you would die, frozen in the vastness of space just trying. He could make you do anything, except perhaps let you go, but only because you knew that deep down, he didn’t really want it.

Jonathan didn’t make an effort to come closer to you, and you didn’t either. Despite your devotion, you wanted to see him make the first move. You had waited long enough. All you wanted was to be loved by him, and you knew that he had it in him to show his affection. He just feared you, feared that you would hurt him.

. . . Maybe a few more days. A few more days of waiting until you would take drastic action.

+++

Laying on the couch, you turned on the TV, opening up the Gotham news channel as background noise while you dozed off. There were a few errands to be done, but you decided to put them off until tomorrow as the weather had gotten worse. It wasn’t raining anymore, and the snow was still brown and mushy, but it was freezing, and you made the stupid mistake of leaving your car outside.

After ten minutes of just lazing around, you were abruptly woken up by the ring of your doorbell. With a groan, you got up off the couch and unlocked the door, only for your nerves to jump and a nervous chuckle escape your lips.

“I — well, hi. Can I help you, officer?” you asked, looking the man in front of you up and down. He had wispy brown hair that was covered by a fur hoodie and a kind smile painted on his face. He didn’t look like he meant any harm, but perhaps this was just a facade to get your guard down. For all you knew there could be police officers stationed all around your house. Or were you being too paranoid? Yes. You probably were.

“You can,” he said, voice a little gruff. “My name is Peter Wright, I just wanna ask you a few questions. May I come inside?”

You hesitated. “What's this about?”

Wright chuckled, but didn’t answer. “Do you know a man named Jonathan Crane? You may have just passed him on the street — he had dark hair, glasses, clean-cut . . .”

Your mind ran through all the possibilities. There was absolutely no way this man could know you two even met. You were so careful — so unbelievably careful. Was there something you had overlooked? Something you had missed? Maybe someone saw you with Jonathan and reported it to the police once they realized he was missing.

“. . . No.”

Wright smiled. “No need to be so tense. We just wanna know where he is.”

You smiled, trying to be friendly. “I’m sorry, sir, I have no clue who that is. You probably have the wrong person — ”

“ — yeah, figured,” Wright interrupted, flashing another smile. “He’s been missing for a while. You’re not in trouble, we just have to check every lead.”

“Oh, I understand completely,” you said. “May I ask, why have I become a . . . lead?”

“Just some security footage on a date of interest. You had crossed the street at a bus station.” Wright paused for a moment, seeing if you remembered anything. You did, but you kept your face blank. It was better to pretend. It made you relieved, however. This was nothing serious, and nothing that was your fault. “He wrote it down in one of his journal entries, that’s why we checked.”

“Journal entries?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

“Yes. That’s how all these smart people are like, or so I’ve been told. Methodical, pattern-orientated.”

Was he even supposed to be telling you this? It seemed like this man was more loose-lipped than he first appeared. Perhaps you could pull some information out of him, turn on your charm.

“You know what? Come inside. It’s cold, and I can make you some hot coffee.”

“Really?” Wright raised an eyebrow. “Now you’re getting let me in?”

You gave a playful glare. “I’m not gonna ask again, sir.”

Wright obliged, and for the rest of the evening, he divulged information about the case, a little too flirtatious for your taste, but it got the work done, and by the end of the day, you learned that they had nothing on you, and nothing on this case.

+++

“Jonathan,” you cooed as you entered the basement with a plate of mashed potatoes and steak. You immediately noticed that his knuckles were bloody, and realized what he was trying to do — he must have heard another person upstairs and banged against the concrete walls in the hopes that he would’ve been heard.

What a stupid boy!

“Hold on,” you muttered, annoyed, placing the food down. “I’ll get you some bandages — ”

“ — Can’t you just be here?” Jonathan said shakily, his voice hoarse. “You said you loved me but you never spend time with me, you’re always upstairs . . . I’m going insane.”

Your heart leaped. Finally. Finally! It was happening. He was beginning to see, to truly see the connection you both had. You could envision it already — a wedding, with only an eficator there to make things legitimate, with flowers and a beautiful background, perhaps a sunset or beach, or maybe some mountains — topped with snow. That would be perfect, absolutely wonderful. Oh, you would have to start making the plans now!

“Did I do something wrong?”

“What?” You snapped out of your thoughts. “Oh, no. No, darling. I’m just so excited, I’ve been waiting so long . . . Here, can I hold you?”

Jonathan nodded with a sniffle.

Not wasting a single moment, you wrapped him up in your arms, watching as he delicately snuggled his head in the crook of your neck. The feeling of his hair brushing up against your skin was exhilarating, making you shudder and shake like you were about to lose it. About to lose it and take him right then and there, all romantic like, with nice words and the scent of rose petals . . . Maybe your first time could be in a bath, with lit candles, cleaning each other off. It was —

Hold on. Where was his chain?

Jonathan’s arms were around your waist, but you couldn’t feel the metal. You looked to the hook on the wall and saw that it had broken off, next to it the psychology book you gave to him, heavily dented.

Chasting yourself, you felt Jonathan tighten his grip around your body. You should have checked — you should have checked for the chain like you did every time you came down. What was wrong with you? This one simple mistake could ruin everything . . .

Trying to think as quickly as you could, you looked around the room for the other book, but couldn’t find it anywhere. You had a sedative syringe in your pocket, but you couldn’t get to it without alerting him. Alas, you finally felt something poking you in the side, something sharp like an edge, and within seconds you had been tossed to the floor and hit over the head.

+++

When you finally woke up, your head was reeling. You had a massive headache, and everytime you tried to sit up your vision would go a little dark and you would give up. Before you could try again, you had a hand against your throat. You felt a horrible surge of anger, and in the midst of your emotions, a slight sense of arousal.

“After everything I’ve done for you?” you cried out, voice choked. You could feel a shift in movement, because after Jonathan realized he was hurting you, he loosened his grip, but it still wasn’t enough to get out of his grasp. He probably tried to open the basement door but couldn’t, so waited until you came to give him the passcode. You couldn’t rely on the hope that he wouldn’t hurt you. He was desperate. But so were you.

“Everything you’ve done,” he repeated with a low murmur. “You know how humiliating it is to be trapped in a basement for a month, forced to bathe in front of you because I can’t even be trusted with a flow of water? Have to piss with chains on? I’m a doctor, I shouldn’t have to submit to your delusion.”

“You should and you will!” you screeched, squirming. “You finally have someone to love you, to adore you, someone who would do anything for you, and it’s still not enough. Or you know what? Maybe you like that. Being sad all the time, not having anyone to care for you. Probably used to it, huh? Distant parents, bitch grandmother, no friends, no lovers . . .”

Jonathan tossed you to the floor and pinned you down, his nose close to yours, breathing heavy, eyes a little glossy. Then, without warning, he slapped you. The sting was both painful and pleasurable. The little whimper you let out was more of a light sigh, but you didn’t let that distract you. All you needed to do was reach into your pocket for the syringe, which he clearly hadn’t noticed was there. If you could drug him just a little, you would be able to get your power back, your control.

“I want the code. That’s it.”

“I want a kiss.”

“Fuck you.”

“Just one kiss. A nice, long one.”

Jonathan thought for a moment. His breath tickled your skin. Then, he leaned in, his eyes fluttering shut, and brushed his perfect, pink lips against yours. He was so easily manipulated, so eager. Even when he had all the power, he still fell for your little antic. Or maybe he just wanted an excuse to kiss you.

While he was distracted, you swiftly took the syringe out and stabbed him with it, pushing half the liquid in. He pulled away and gasped, but then his eyes started drooping, and his movements became more wobbly, and he fell into your arms, disorientated and dizzy.

“Mm . . . what did you do?” he asked.

You grabbed his hair, making him wince in pain. “You know, I’ve been trying so hard to be patient, not rushing you, making you feel as safe as possible” You paused. “But sometimes people aren’t grateful for what they have. That’s okay, it happens. You just have to learn. I’ll be patient again, just for you.”

You laid him on his back and started unbuckling his pants belt. He tried to stop you, but his movements were too weak and groggy.

“Don’t — don’t,” he pleaded.

You stopped, but only for the time being. You lifted him up onto his feet and let him lean against you. His feet were dragging a little against the floor, but he managed to walk. He pulled himself away from you when you made it to the top of the stairs but stumbled. He just wasn’t strong enough. You unlocked the passcode.

You led him over to the bathroom on your first floor, where you opened the tub’s tap and let the water flow. Jonathan’s eyelids drooped slightly, but you could see — smell — the fear in them. He knew what you were going to do, and he was helpless to stop it.

Taking off the rest of his belt, you pulled his cock out. White, soft, a little big, but other than that it was perfect, just like every other part of him. You brushed your finger across it, watching the way it twitched in your hands. Unable to stop yourself, you leaned down and gave the head a small kiss, but that was the last bit of kindness Jonathan was going to receive today. In fact, receive for a long while.

You dipped your hand in the tub, which was steadily flowing with water, and gave his cock a hard squeeze, making him whimper in pain. “That’s the closest to lube you’ll get,” you said. “Now come on, don’t fight me. Dip your face in.”

Pushing his head down into the tub wasn’t much of a struggle, but Jonathan wasn’t making it easy. Your doll, your poor doll. He didn’t want to be hurt, but that was what had to happen. And it would keep happening until he finally admitted that he loved you.

When Jonathan’s nose touched the water, he groaned, his head dizzy. It was cold, but by the time he could even register the temperature, his entire head was in, held by your hand as your other stroked his cock. A few air bubbles came up, but you didn’t give in. You wanted him to struggle, you wanted him to be in pain. He was like a fragile mouse caught in a trap. Only you could let him go. Only you had the power to.

After a few more seconds, you lifted his head up, watching with glee as he gasped for air, coughing and sputtering when he could spare it.

“Aw, baby boy. You don’t like that very much, do you?”

He shook his head, opening his mouth to speak, but you didn’t let him. You just shoved him down into the tub again, feeling your body tingle. You swiped your finger over that little hole where you would soon force cum to shoot out of, and pressed down on it hard. Then, you found your way to his balls, slightly pulling at the small hairs there. Pinching and squeezing. His thighs shook, so you slapped them. They were another beautiful part of his body.

You continued pumping, up and down, steadily, then pulled him out. You could feel some pre-cum on your hands . . . even when you were torturing him he couldn’t control his biological reactions.

When he came up for the second time, he begged, “Please — I’m sorry, I’m sorry . . . Mercy, I can’t!”

His hair was wet, sticking to his forehead, and water was running down from his chin to his chest underneath the plain white shirt you had given him. His nipples were perked, probably from all the adrenaline, but you liked to think that it was because he was aroused.

“You can and you will,” you growled. “Take it. Take it!”

+++

When you were finished with him, you took him back down to the basement, his cock hanging limp through the zipper area of his pants, and tossed him to the floor. Noticing one of the books you gifted him on the ground, you picked it up and threw it at him. It hit his leg, and within seconds, he passed out.

You locked the door and left him like that for the next few days. No food, no water, no nothing. Through the camera you could see that he was barely moving. He only got up to use the toilet, but other than that, he was like a slug. It was on the third day that you decided to go down again and nourish him, otherwise he might die, and you didn't want that, not after all this hard work.

ii.

Jonathan Crane was respected throughout the city of Gotham, a known and reputable psychiatrist amongst others in his field, as well as connected with higher elites who often funded his projects, his small passions. Never did he think he would ever end up in someone’s basement, that too the basement of a beauty.

He had gotten into a car accident while pulling out of Akrham’s parking lot. It was a stupid mistake, not even his fault, really. The curb was so narrow and it was difficult to see past the line of trees whether another car was coming or not, and in his rush to get home, he went ahead without thinking and collided with a red Sedan.

No one was injured, but his car was beat up, and after getting it towed, he had to walk all the way to the nearest bus station (which was very far away, as the aslyum was rather secluded). It was cold, and he wasn’t dressed for this weather at all. He tried to take his mind off the temperature by looking at his watch, the tick-tick ticking, but when he finally got there, he found that the bus was not coming at all. It had been fifteen minutes, and nothing was there. The entire street was surprisingly empty for a city as busy as Gotham, with only the occasional patrol car driving past.

He was about ready to head to the subway — another long trek — when he saw someone else standing across the street. It was a woman, he could tell from the figure, but she was shrouded in darkness . . . Maybe she was waiting for the bus as well.

“Hey, excuse me, ma’am!” he shouted out, hoping not to startle her. He knew how women could get, all scared and skittish when they were alone. He understood. Crime rates were high, rape and theft were common. Even he was on his guard right now.

“Yes?” the woman answered hesitantly.

“Do you know when the bus will arrive?” Jonathan asked. “I’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes — the sign said it would arrive at seven.”

“I’m not sure,” she said. “I’m waiting for it as well. Do you mind if I cross?”

Jonathan hadn’t expected that, but agreed nonetheless. He found it a bit odd that she was waiting on the other side of the road, but figured that she might have only just arrived. When she crossed, the light of the street lamps hit her face and he was taken aback. She was awfully pretty — beautiful, in fact. She was looking at him with almost dazed eyes, a nervous expression upon her face. He couldn’t tell if she found him attractive, or if she was intimidated by him. Most people were.

They had a short conversation that eventually ended. Jonathan would head down to the subway station, and the woman had opted to call her friend to pick her up. He was a little disappointed. She seemed interesting, and there was no harm in continuing their conversation, but he was also tired and in no mood to convince her to come along with him.

He was about to leave when she asked him for his name. “Jonathan. Dr. Jonathan Crane,” he clarified.

“Jonathan,” she repeated. For a moment, he felt ill at ease. Maybe it was the reminder that he was in the middle of an empty street at night, or the way she looked at him as she repeated his name. He shook it off, he was just being silly.

The woman gave him her name — your name, a nice name. He didn’t know what it was about you, but for the rest of the day you were on his mind. It was enough to make him mention you in his journal, mention with a flow of compliments that ranged from beautiful to almost sinister.

+++

Jonathan had always had a bit of a problem when it came to people. As a child he was ostracized and bullied for his gangly body, and in his adulthood, he had always come off as too unnerving for others. It probably didn’t help that he was arrogant and assuming, too. When it came to lovers, he could get quite obsessive, a problem that broke most of his relationships. Apparently no one liked it when their boyfriends were possessive.

He’d had a few affairs before, but nothing ever serious. He could never find someone he liked enough to marry. On the surface, he semed like the kind of guy that was more interested in his work than anything romantic, but in the end he had been raised with typical values, and as much as he tried to shake it off, he really felt like his path in life was to work, marry, have children, and then die.

When he was a kid his grandmother, Keeny, stressed upon him the importance of finding a good Christian wife. She must be a virgin, submissive, good-natured, and so on. He was sure she had already picked someone from their small town for him, because she was oddly pushy towards this one Church girl who liked to have ribbons in her braids (that was all he really remembered of her). Jonathan wondered what his grandmother thought of him now. Despite all the bad memories associated with her, he still sent letters with money every once in a while. She responded sometimes, mostly with pleas for him to come back, but he never paid them any mind. He was done with her and Georgia.

In his mind, his ideal wife would be an intellectual just like him. Preferably smart, but not as smart as him, who was just as clingy as he was, who understood and could care for him, and who was perhaps a little more on the dominant side. He was always embarrassed with the fact that he liked dominant women, but wasn’t going to let that stop him from finding one, or at least, hoping one would find him.

“So, you’re opening yourself up to new relationships,” his therapist, Dr. Taylor Smith said, an encouraging smile on her face. Jonathan had been with her for years, and while they were strictly professional, Jonathan couldn’t help but be slightly attached to her. It was what happened when someone gave him even the slightest ounce of affection.

“I suppose so,” Jonathan responded, not knowing what else to say.

“If you’re ready for it, I think you should go out and start talking to people,” Smith suggested. “You have a lot of colleagues, you could start there.”

Jonathan frowned. “They’ve stopped asking me to lunches.”

“Because you decline all the time?”

“Probably.”

“Then why don’t you ask them first?”

Jonathan frowned again. “I’d rather not.”

Smith gave a knowing look. “And how do you suppose to meet people, then?”

Jonathan didn’t want to answer. He knew he was being silly, but he just didn’t want to be the one to make the first move. Eventually someone would come along and ask him out, right? He just had to wait a little . . . Perhaps he could loiter around some bookstores or near the lectures he attended so he could meet a woman who was like-minded.

“Look,” Smith said, intertwining her hands. “Before we meet again next week, I want you to have made an effort towards a relationship. Friendship would be a good start.”

“I have friends. Harleen is — fine,” Jonathan relented, after seeing the glare his therapist was giving. “I’ll do that. It’ll be my homework,” he joked, but on the inside he was thoroughly annoyed.

+++

Jonathan’s first idea was to go to a coffee shop. He had been starved for some caffeine and decided that instead of making one at home he could go out and get one. He parked his car in a nearby garage and walked over to a local shop. It had a long line of impatient-looking people, moody, too, at that.

He took his place in line, inhaling the sweet aroma of the atmosphere. A few people were working, typing away at their laptops, while others were with their friends or family or partners. He tried to look as casual as possible, sweeping his hair over his forehead every once in a while, but then he stopped, feeling stupid.

He felt like a kid back in highschool trying to get a girl’s attention. Everyone here was either already with someone or rushing to get out. It was a dumb idea. He’d just get his coffee and leave.

Maybe he could just ask his coworkers at the asylum. They were nice enough, and it would probably do good on his work relationships if he made an effort on them.

When he got to the counter he ordered a small latte and went on his way, but after turning the corner he bumped into someone. They were holding a cup of coffee — from the same cafe he just went to. The cap, which must not have been applied properly, fell to the ground, and all the hot, brown liquid splashed onto both him and . . . and . . . the lady from the bus station?

Jonathan hissed at the burning sensation, but restrained himself from letting out a small scream. A few people stopped and turned to look at them. A few of them in pity, others stifling their giggles, while one man offered to go get some napkins.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” the woman — you — said, grabbing some napkins from the man and wiping your blouse off.

Jonathan glared.

“What is wrong with you?” he sneered, his face contorted in controlled disgust. “Are you stalking me?”

“What? I don’t — look, I’m really sorry, sir,” you fervently apologized, which made Jonathan feel a bit bad. “Here — some napkins — ”

“ — Don’t bother,” Jonathan said, looking down at his suit, though his tone was a bit softer.

There was a moment of silence. Jonathan admired your features for those few moments, and thought back to how he wrote about you in his journal. His cheeks flushed a light pink at the memory. Imagine what would happen if you found out . . .

“Aren’t you going to say sorry, too?”

Jonathan sighed, getting annoyed again. “I’m sorry,” but it was sarcastic.

“I want to hear a genuine apology,” you said, but before Jonathan could say anything, you continued, “That or . . . you buy me another cup of coffee and we go our separate ways.”

Jonathan was caught off guard, but he realized that it was the perfect opportunity to do what he came here for: make a friend. And she was so obviously flirting.

“Alright. But we’ll be quick. I have to change.”

You chuckled. “Okay, okay.”

You both walked back to the coffee shop, standing in line as you looked over the menu. Jonathan wondered what to say.

“It’s quite the coincidence, don’t you think?” he said, feeling sticky as his dress shirt stuck to his skin. “We meet at the bus station, then here . . .”

“What do you mean?” you asked, confused.

Jonathan couldn’t believe that you didn’t remember. “I introduced myself to you. Dr. Jonathan Crane. And you told me your name.”

You thought for a moment, eyes dazed for a few seconds, but when you looked back at him you shook your head. “I-I suppose you look familiar, but I don’t really remember . . . I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that’s alright.”

Eventually, you both got up to the front. You ordered another coffee and Jonathan paid with his card. This time, he made sure your lid was secured on properly. When he got out of the cafe for the second time that day, he felt disappointed that he had to leave you again.

At the bus station he had let you go, and was he about to do the same thing here? No. He would try, shoot his chance. If it didn't work, so what? He would get over it.

“I can walk you back to your car,” Jonathan offered, taking a sip of his coffee, which thankfully he didn’t drop when he bumped into you.

“I don’t want to bother you,” you said, shaking your head. “It’s all the way down the road.”

“I insist,” he said.

You smiled. It was such a sweet smile, Jonathan wished he could igraine the memory into his mind forever.

“What do you do for work?” he asked, trying to make light conversation.

“Real estate,” you responded. “You?”

“I’m a psychiatrist . . .”

He didn’t mention the fact that he worked at Arkham. It was infamous in Gotham, and not that great of a conversation starter. Jonathan didn’t want this to turn into an interview about what it’s like to work there, how the patients were, and so on.

When you and Jonathan reached your car, he felt that odd sense of dread again. He was near a closed-off area behind a shop. It was one of those places that had parking lots for behind a store, and was shaped almost like a square. The shop was closed, and there was only one car in the area — presumably yours.

“Sorry,” you apologized with a laugh after seeing the look on his face. “There was no parking nearby. I’m actually kind of glad you walked me . . . it’s a little scary all by myself.”

“It’s fine. I understand,” Jonathan said with a shrug, ignoring his instincts. He walked you to the car, and before he knew what was happening, he was knocked out.

+++

The chains clinked against the others in the link, the cuffs tugging against Jonathan Crane’s skin, pulled so hard it restricted the blood flow. It was only then he stopped, and let a defeated sigh escape his lips. His head leaned against the wall and his posture slumped. Since he woke up he had been trying to get out of this place — out of this basement, it looked to be. His thoughts flooded his head a million times, and it was impossible for him to produce a semblance of coherent thinking. He begged his brain to stop working, to just be quiet for a moment so he could control his emotions and focus, but it wouldn’t. It left him tired and confused and scared.

What happened to me?

Why am I here?

Was that woman responsible for this? Did she kidnap me? Oh god, she kidnapped me.

What do I do? What do I do? What do I do?

People are going to notice I’m missing. The police will come for me, I’ll be fine.

No they won’t. It’s Gotham, no one will do anything about it.

Jonathan squeezed his eyes shut. Stop it. Stop thinking.

After a while, he got his thoughts to quiet, but before he could be rational, the padlock clicked and the door opened. He backed into a corner — well, as far as his binding would let him, and his suspicions were confirmed.

It was you. You were his captor. His doom.

You placed a bowl of oatmeal in front of him. Cinnamon and honey filled the air. It had little pieces of apple cut up, and even some chocolate chips on the side. It was absolutely heavenly, and Jonathan could feel his mouth water at just the sight of it. He restrained himself, however. He was not that hungry, at least not yet, and he couldn’t be sure it wasn’t poisioned.

“I’m not eating that.”

Frowning, you bent down to his level. “It's not poisoned, you know that.”

Jonathan did know that. He was smart enough to realize that a person wouldn’t go through all the effort of bringing him here, only to poison him.

“Are you in love with me?” he asked next.

“Why do you ask?” you said instead. Avoiding the question.

“You may not be in love with me now, but you will be soon.”

Was it wrong that for a moment Jonathan felt nice? In all his life, he never had someone care for him, but here, someone had gone through the effort of kidnapping him just to be with him. He felt stupid for thinking like that. This wasn’t some story, it was reality, and in reality, you didn’t actually love him. You were obsessed. Obsessed . . . Was he that incapable of being loved that people had to either hate him or obsess over him like an object? Was there no in-between?

There were a few more words exchanged. You brushed your fingers against his skin, and though he pulled away, he couldn’t deny the affection rising within him. No one had ever touched him this gently before, this kindly.

You left, leaving Jonathan alone in the cold, dark room. After a few moments of hesitation, he reached for the bowl, and began eating.

+++

A few weeks had passed by. Jonathan couldn’t tell if the weather outside had begun to turn warm, or if it was still as cold as the last time he saw it. He never knew what time it was unless you came down with food, and even then, he was probably a couple of hours off. As he spent time in that basement, searching for a way out, he felt a sense of desperate hopelessness creep onto him. Would he ever make it out alive?

He couldn’t believe that he was even in this situation. After insulting you and calling you names, he resorted to fervent begging, but even that wasn’t enough to make you let him go. In your delusion you had made his life a misery. He couldn’t keep living in your basement like some sort of pet, forced to bathe in front of you and constantly monitored by cameras.

Maybe Jonathan would have liked you better if you actually gave him a nice room to sleep in. Or if you made something other than acai bowls and fruit smoothies all the time.

He could see it in your eyes that you truly believed you loved him, and it made him feel scared. While he overviewed cases like this and met people with the same mentality to kidnap and stalk, he still didn’t know what to do. In a part of his brain, he thought that maybe you weren’t so bad and that you could have been torturing him right now, but instead was being kind and thoughtful.

You tried to apply cream to his bruised wrists, and you didn’t even scold him for trying to get out of the handcuffs. He made it a difficult process, but it was because he was afraid. He had never been touched like that before. You were making him feel all sorts of things — anger, confusion, fear.

It didn’t help when you brought down a present for him. A book on chemistry, and another on psychology. It was wrapped in a box, which was wrapped in a light-blue color. Why were you so sweet? In all his years, he had never gotten a present as meaningful as this. His heart had wrenched uncomfortably, and he had to remind himself who you were, what type of person you were.

Maybe if he used this book to hit you over the head with, it would knock you out and he could escape. He could use it to break the chains, too. They were hardcover, and th

———

(I stopped writing here.)

The rest of this section was just going to be through Jonathan’s perspective.

iii.

You opened the door hesitantly, a wave of guilt flooding your body. Jonathan lay there on the floor, beaten and bruised, shivering in a corner even though he had a blanket around him. He didn’t smell good, but you expected it to be worse, so you took it as a sign that things could still be salvaged.

———

(I stopped writing here).

Jonathan is passed out, barely able to move. For the next few days, you nurse him back to health. You clean him, feed him, and give him better clothing. He doesn’t fight back. Slowly, he starts to accept his new environment and you upgrade him to a guest bedroom, but you still lock the doors and windows so he can’t escape.

The police officer comes back to flirt. You’re annoyed, but you know you need him for info. The police officer starts to get suspicious, and out of fear he’ll do something, you murder him. The murder is sort of the climax of the story.

After that whole ordeal, Jonathan has been completely conditioned by you, but the ending is open-ended. “The Doll’s Burial” is meant to represent a burial of his true self, replaced by a version you created, or, his actual death. It depends on you — do you get bored of him, is it truly an obsession? Or do you truly love him, and are willing to spend your whole life as his wife?

Tagging in case ya'll are still interested: @shroombloom-rry @madnessandobsession @henrywintersdearestgirl @hllywdwhre @your-nanas-house @ellebelleshelby @Meetmeatyourworst @hanawrites404 @Emimurphy2008

@nela-cutie

@slut4thebroken

@wild-rose-35

@madeinuk

@flwrs4aust

@httpxgray

#Jonathan Crane #Jonathan Crane x reader #Jonathan Crane x y/n #Jonathan Crane x you #the dark knight trilogy #fanfiction #scarecrow x reader #scarecrow x y/n #scarecrow x you #cillian murphy #pinguwrites

130 notes · View notes

littlespacecadets · 5 years ago

Text

🌟 Little Space Tip #23 🌟

As the weather gets colder and the leaves begin to fall, Halloween and costume parties approach!

It's the perfect time of the year to play dress-up and wear cute costumes! While some may prefer to wear comfy costumed pajamas/onesies/union suits, there are plenty of other options!

Whether you chose to buy a costume or to make your own, you might want to show your little side. The good news is, people won't even bat an eye at an especially little costume, as it's all in the spirit of things! Below are a few costumes that may fill that need!

These are just a few of the cutest costumes I was able to find, perfect for littles of all ages!

You can be your favorite superhero, favorite animal, favorite toy, a cool profession, or a character from your favorite show, movie, or story book! You can even dress up and pretend you're from a different time period! Don't forget the classic costumes either, as ghosts, vampires, witches, scarecrows, monsters, and pumpkins are definitely perfect for the occasion!

If you don't want to buy a costume, you can also make your own! Thrift stores have a huge selection of various clothing options that can make up really cool costumes, which you can (usually) assemble for a great price!

Feel free to chose a costume not pictured, as these are just a few options for those that want to pick something that feels especially little! If you want to dress-up as a scary zombie or horror-movie monster, go for it!

#littlexspace #agere #babyre #totre #age regression #tips #lsc post

115 notes · View notes

inevitably-johnlocked · 6 years ago

Note

Hi ! I recently read the fics "Uphill" and "A Hundred Crimson Sols", and I also remember reading "Perfomance in a leading role" a while ago, and I really loved them so I was wondering if you new other AUs where they have another job than in canon ? Especially ones where one of them is famous ? I love your blog btw, and you're so nice with everybody

Anonymous said to inevitably-johnlocked: Hi! Sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you could recommend any true AUs? I feel like getting away from the canon setting. Thanks!

Anonymous said to inevitably-johnlocked: hi, do you have any coffee shop/different first meeting au fic recs? thank you! (:

Hi Nonnies!!

I hope you don’t mind that I put y'all together, since y’all are looking for pretty much the exact same thing! Funny because these all came in around the same time, LOL. I’ve SO many AU’s, but I’ve those ones sorted too, and Nonny 1, you’ve got a good suggestion here for today’s AU list, so we’re gonna go with Other Professions, which works great for Nonny 2′s request as well!!

And Nonny 1, thank you very much for your kind words! I’m not THAT nice, but I try, LOL

Nonny 3, I’ve added in the “see also” some fics you may also enjoy! Believe it or not, I’ve never read a coffee shop AU fic. I think it’s because they’re mostly Unilock and I don’t really care for unilock :P (I like my John and Sherlock older because I can then relate to them :P)

I’ve also added some fics on my MFL list since I like making long lists LOL LOL.

ALTERNATE PROFESSIONS

See also (for First Meeting Nonny):

Fairy Tales and Fantasy

TV, Movies, and Books AU (Fantasy Pt. 2)

Magical Realism Where John is the Powerful One

Lumberjack John / Botanist Sherlock

WWII AU’s

Faes / Faeries

Alternate First Meetings (Canon-Feeling)

First Meeting Via Internet / Phone / Letters

Angel John

Ghosts / Figments

School Fics

Soul Mates and Soul Bonds

Omegaverse

where the good things grow by anchors (M, 7,066 w. || Tea Shop AU || Alternate First Meeting, Magical Realism, Gardens, Tea, Friends to Lovers) – “I have a magic garden.” As come-ons go, John’s heard worse.

He’s Not Paid Enough to Deal with This Shit by janonny (T, 9,828 w. || Personal Assistant AU || Humour, First Meetings, Snarky John) – One of the first things John did was to write up step-by-step instructions on how to conduct a proper job interview before handing it over to Mycroft for his perusal. There were no kidnapping, deserted car parks or stolen therapy notes anywhere on that list. (Or the one where John returned from the war and ended up working for Mycroft as his personal assistant slash doctor on retainer. Everything was fine, until he was sent to post bail for one Sherlock Holmes.)

The Nutcracker by Odamaki (T, 13,758 w. || Nutcracker AU || Christmas, Dark Magic, Dolls) – Sherlock is unimpressed with Uncle Rudy’s present. A doll? What does he want with a doll?

Software Malfunction by tiger_in_the_flightdeck (E, 16,679 w. || Android Sherlock, Love Story, Unhappy Ending, Angst) – “You think I can’t love you? Just because you’re made with metal, and detailed programming?” The doctor propped himself on his elbow, and looked down at it. “I am nothing but blood and bone, and tissue. Things just managed get mashed together in a manner that made me like this. Just like you were put together to make you how you are. When I kiss you-” he did so, briefly, to prove his point. Then more deeply, and lingering, because he could. “When I touch you, or smile at you, does it make you feel different from when others have done it in the past?”

Pleasure to Burn by scullyseviltwin (E, 17,863 w. || Firefighter AU, Firefighter John / Arson Investigator Sherlock, Slow Burn, Pining, Case Fic-ish) – “If you’d kindly stop knocking about in there and destroying all of my evidence, it would be most appreciated!” John groaned and for a moment rested his head against the side of the truck. Of course he was the only captain left on the scene, which meant he would have to be the one to deal with the arson investigator.

Uncharted Territory by J_Baillier (T, 19,603 w. || Dystopian Future / Black Mirror AU || Angst, Drama, Homophobia, Bisexuality, Technology, Humour, Romance, Near Future, Happy Ending) – The System puts people through a series of assigned relationships in order to determine who their Perfect Match is. John believes that it works; Sherlock really, really doesn’t. One of them is probably going to be wrong.

Hellfire by testosterone_tea (E, 28,596 w. || Fantasy / Magic / Mages / Elementals AU || Mage Sherlock, Elemental John, Developing Relationship, Torture, Powerful / BAMF John, POV Alternating, Dark / Blood Magic, UST, First Kiss) – Sherlock is a Mage that gets involved with a case involving Dark Summoning rituals, leading him to John Watson, a man with Berserker blood. The only thing is, Berserkers have been extinct for centuries. And of course, nothing involving Mycroft and his interfering ways is ever simple. This time, even Sherlock may have bitten off more than he can chew.

Love or What You Will by miss_frankenstein (T, 31,987 w. || College/Uni AU || Professor John, Ph.D Student Sherlock, Pining John, Poetry, Falling in Love / Slow Burn, Light Angst, Happy Ending) – John is an English professor who specializes in War and Post-War Literature and Sherlock is the brilliant yet impossible Ph.D. student assigned to be his TA because no one in the Chemistry Department is willing to put up with him. And - somewhere between Waugh and Plath, e-mails and takeaway, novels and villanelles - they fall in love.

Classified(s) by blueink3 (E, 36,153 w. || Wedding Date AU || Fake Relationship, Jealous, PIning, H/C, Idiots in Love, Happy Ending, Mary is not Nice, Escort Service) – Clara’s American father is the ambassador to some such territory that Great Britain probably used to own, but she (and Harry’s undying love for her) is the reason John is getting on a flight at 12:30pm, flying across the second largest ocean in the world, and pretending to be in a perfectly happy, healthy relationship with an undoubtedly perfectly coiffed stranger. See, Clara is not only American (and wealthy to boot), she’s also best friends with John’s ex-fiancée. Whom she’s placed in the wedding party. As Maid of Honor. And John just happens to be Best Man. Bloody brilliant.

The Boy Who Drank Stars by kinklock (E, 36,157w. || Howl’s Moving Castle AU || Witches and Wizards, Slow Burn, Magic, Jealous John, Happy Ending, Bed Sharing) – “I’m looking for a castle,” John informed the scarecrow. “A moving one.”Except that, as it turned out, it was not a moving one at all.

The Soul Remembers by i_ship_an_armada (E, 43,636 w. || Oblivion AU || Post-Apocalypse, Movie Fusion, Science Fiction, Action/Adventure, Angst, Dreams, Bittersweet Ending) – John Watson is the lone security repairman stationed on a desolate, nearly-ruined future Earth. His dreams are plagued by a tall, dark-haired man, and when his dreams meet reality, he will be forced to question everything he believes is the truth about his life.

Spare Change by Ermerness (E, 51,966 w. || Rich Holmeses AU || First Kiss / Time, Holmes Family, Virgin Sherlock, Anal, First Meetings) – The Holmes family is one of the richest and most powerful in England. Sherlock spends his time flying around the world on the family’s private jet drinking a lot and shopping at expensive boutiques as a way of trying to alleviate his endless boredom. His mother decides it’s time he settles down with someone powerful, wealthy and well connected. John Watson happens to be none of those things.

Coventry by standbygo (E, 52,020 w. || Dollhouse AU || Case Fic, Slow Burn, Sci-Fi / Fantasy, First Kiss / Time, Attempted Rape, BAMF John, Falling in Love) – “Let me get this straight,” John said, wondering when his life had become a science fiction film. “Some guy orders up a personality, a person, to his specifications, and they program this into a real live person, who has consented to do this, and she goes to this person and acts as his wife, or lawyer, or Royal Marine, or Navy Seal or what have you, and she has all the skills, all the knowledge, everything? Then you say the magic words, and she follows you back to The House, and they erase it all until her next appointment?”

A Hundred Crimson Sols by elldotsee (E, 55,536 w. || Astronauts AU || Mars Exploration / Space Travel, Slow Burn, Shy Sherlock, Scientist Sherlock / Biomed Engineer John, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, UST, Angst with Happy Ending, Domestic Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Suicidal Ideation, Zero-G Sex) – Will Holmes is a chemical researcher recognized widely for his contributions to the new Mars exploration program. Thanks to his ground-breaking developments, the IMMC (International Mars Mission Corporation) is one step closer to Martian colonization. Will and his team of scientists are headed out on the first of three manned missions before the first group of settlers arrive. Three days before launch, one of the crew has to be replaced. Will panics because…new people. The replacement is of course one John Watson, biomedical engineer and space hottie who was pretty sure he had retired from actual space exploration and was now content to work in the nice, quiet research lab. Can the crew survive this TOTALLY ROUTINE trip? Will they be able to endure each other for the looooooong trip in close quarters? Gonna be a wild ride… prepare for blast off. Part 1 of the SpaceBois go to Space series

floating through a dark blue sky by Lediona (M, 58,966 w. || Notting Hill AU || POV John, Celebrity Sherlock, First Date / Time / Kiss, Past Drug Addiction, Angst with a Happy Ending) – Of course, I’d seen his films and always thought he was, well, brilliant – but, you know, a million miles from the world I live in. Or, when John is the owner of a travel book shop and the famous Sherlock Holmes stops in one day.

This Thing All Things Devours by cypress_tree (E, 63,844 w. || In Time AU || Science Fiction, Dystopian Universe, First Meetings, Action / Adventure, Romance) – In 2169, time is money—literally. Humans are genetically engineered to stop aging at 25, when the numbers on their arm start counting down from one year. When that time is up, they die. The only way to get more time is to earn it, borrow it, or steal it.John Watson lives day-to-day in the crowded slums of Zone 13. He never imagined living any differently—until he meets the practically-immortal Sherlock, and helps him on a case to track a local time-thief…

Uphill by scullyseviltwin (E, 77,750 w. || Olympics AU || Sherlock POV, Skier!Sherlock / Medic!John, Rivalry, 2014 Olympics, Happy Ending) – Sherlock Holmes is striving for gold in this, his fourth and final Olympics as a downhill Alpine racer.

Summit Fever by J_Baillier (M, 78,802 w. || Mountain Climber AU || POV John, Angst, Tragedy, Suicidal Ideation, The Himalayas, Mountain Guide / Doctor John, Mount Climber Sherlock, Loneliness, Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Injured Sherlock / Sherlock Whump, Pining John) – After graduating from medical school, John Watson followed his heart to the Himalayas. Ten years later, he’s a haunted cynic working for his ex-lover’s trekking and mountaineering company. Will leading an expedition to Annapurna I—the most lethal of all the world’s highest mountains—shake John out of his reverie, and who is the mystery client added to the group at the last minute?

The Baker Street Nativity by SwissMiss (E, 99,662 w. || Nativity! AU || Teacher Sherlock / TA John, Pining, Sherlock POV, UST, Angst, Christmas, Music/Song Fic, Anal / BJ’s, First Kiss / Time) – Fusion between Sherlock (BBC) and Nativity! (2009 movie starring Martin Freeman). Sherlock is a primary school teacher and John is assigned to be his classroom assistant. Together, they are charged with putting on the school’s Nativity play. What could possibly go wrong? Part 1 of The Baker Street Nativity Verse

The Cost of a Wish by slashscribe (E, 102,493 w. || xxxHolic Fusion || Spirits / Ghosts and Magic, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Soul Mates / Fated Lovers, Adventure, Immortal Sherlock, Powerful John, POV John, Frottage, Wish Granting, Angst with Happy Ending, Nightmares) – John has been plagued by a secret his entire life that has made him feel hopeless until he meets a mysterious, seemingly omniscient man named Sherlock Holmes who owns a wish-granting shop. Their meeting sets off a series of inevitable events that will change the course of both of their lives forever.

Maintenance and Repair by patternofdefiance (E, 106,650 w. || FutureAU, Augmentation || Augmented John, Depression, Body Modification, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, Sci-Fi, Self-Care, Body Dysmorphia) – John wants to explain the rush of sensation and data, which is just another form of sensation (or is it the other way around?). John wants to say:Augmentation circuits report temperature, pressure, various forms of quantitative input. Sudden changes are reported as pain, since sudden changes are dangerous, and pain is the quickest way to encourage reflexive extraction. But all John can manage is, “Nng.” Because this sudden touch is not reporting as pain. Part 2 of STATIC

A Study in Winning by Jupiter_Ash (E, 106,658 w. || Tennis AU || John POV, Dirty Talk, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings, Happy Ending, Sherlock Speaks French, Switchlock, Wimbledon) – John and Sherlock are professional tennis players and it’s Wimbledon. One is a broken almost was at the end of his career, the other an arrogant rising star tipped for greatness. It should have been a straightforward tournament. It really should have been. How were they to know that a chance encounter would change everything? Part 1 of Tennis

Eyes Up, Heels Down by CodenameMeretricious (E, 107,845 w. || Sports Equestrian AU || Fluff, Angst, Humour, Rider!Sherlock, Groomer!John, Show Jumping, Slow Burn, Happy Ending) – Sherlock is a top eventing rider currently training at Baker Farms. John is the new groom who’s been told to steer clear of the surly rider and his horses. Part 1 of Baker Farms

The Swan Triad by Pennin_Ink (T, 121,660 w. across 3 works || Swan Lake AU || Magical / Fairy Tale AU, Romance, Falling in Love, Pining, Psychological Torture, Transformation) – Sherlock and John grow up spending every summer together. Their mothers’ attempts to play matchmaker only fuel their mutual resentment and scorn. But then, one summer.

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship’s surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there’s more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin’ the eye, he has to choose… is it a pirate’s life for him?

The Horse and his Doctor by khorazir (T, 129,003 w. || Horse / Vet AU || Magical Realism, Horses, Vet John, Horse Sherlock, Implied Alcoholism) – Invalided after a run in with a poacher in Siberia, veterinary surgeon John Watson finds it difficult to acclimatise to the mundanity of London life. Things change when a friend invites him along to a local animal shelter and he meets their latest acquisition, a trouble-making Frisian with the strangest eyes and even stranger quirks John has ever encountered in a horse.

Performance In a Leading Role by Mad_Lori (E, 156,714 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Actor / Hollywood AU || Slow Burn, Falling in Love, Secret Relationship, Coming Out) – Sherlock Holmes is an Oscar winner in the midst of a career slump. John Watson is an Everyman actor trapped in the rom-com ghetto. When they are cast as a gay couple in a new independent drama, will they surprise each other? Will their on-screen romance make its way into the real world? Part 1 of Performance in a Leading Role

Gimme Shelter by SinceWhenDoYouCallMe_John (E, 159,368 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE ||70′s Surfer AU || Period Typical Homophobia, Hawaii, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Professional Surfers, Gay John / Sherlock, Angst with Happy Ending, John was a Sailor, Misunderstandings) – All John Watson wants is the feeling of a freshly waxed surfboard under his feet and the hot California sun baking down onto his back. To finally go pro in the newly formed world of professional surfing and leave the dark memories of his past behind him as he rips across the face of a towering blue barrel. To lounge beside the beach bonfire every evening with an ice cold beer tucked into the cool sand beside him and listen to Pink Floyd and the Doors while the saltwater dries in his sun bleached hair. That’s all he wants, that is, until the hot young phenom taking Oahu and the Hawaiian shores by storm steps up next to him in the sand in the second round of the 1976 International Surf Competition. (PUBLISHED AS ‘The Sea Ain’t Mine Alone’)

Mise en Place by azriona (M, 161,004 w. || Restaurant (Kitchen Nightmares) AU || Sherlock is Gordon Ramsay / Celebrity Sherlock, Restauranteur John, Harry Plays Prominent Role, Alternating POV, Mutual Pining, Cranky Sherlock, Bed Sharing, Slow Burn) – John Watson had no intentions of taking over the family business, but when he returns from Afghanistan, battered and bruised, and discovers that his sister Harry has run their restaurant into the ground, he doesn’t have much choice. There’s only one thing that can save the Empire from closing for good – the celebrity star of the BBC series Restaurant Reconstructed, Chef Sherlock Holmes. Part 1 of Mise en Place

MARKED FOR LATER

(these are fics I have in my MFL list for future reading and have not read them yet. Read at your own discretion).

My, She Was Yar by blueink3 (M, 5,313 w. || Cinema AU || Teenlock, Mention of Sex for Drugs, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending) – YAR: adjective; (nautical term, of a sailboat) agile, quick, easily manoeuvred. Or, the exact opposite of what Sherlock Holmes is when he stumbles into John Watson’s cinema and turns his life upside down. Part 7 of the Tumblr Prompts series

come be my april fool by a_different_equation (M, 6,473 w. || Great British Bake Off AU || Writer!Sherlock, Est. Rel., Fluff / Humour, Baking, Marriage Proposal, Military Kink, Domestics, POV John, Romance, Sherlock Wears Glasses, Sweet Sherlock, Bookstores, Queer Themes) – After leaving ‘The Great British Bake Off’, Sue Perkins has written a book about Victorian baking. Tonight, on April 1st, she is reading at ‘The Bard’, Mike Stamford’s bookstore in central London. It is the exact same spot where John Watson, battered and bruised, had learned all about his magnificent bastard – one Mr. Sherlock Holmes, famous gay crime fiction writer – for the first time. A story about found family, DRAMAtical lesbians, how to react when your boyfriend has a military kink but he doesn’t want to act on it, oh, and popping the question. Sequel to ‘i read your book, you magnificent bastard’. Part 2 of Magnificent Bastard!AU

Idle Hands by kinklock (E, 7,226 w. || Deaf Sherlock, Phone Sex, Alternate First Meeting, Dirty Sign Language) – While working as a video sign language interpreter for the deaf, John’s last client of the day asks him to interpret a highly unusual call. (aka deaf Sherlock wants to call a phone sex hotline AU)

What To Do With An Atypical Animal Within by HarveyDangerfield & swimsalot (E, 7,804 w. || Harry Potter AU || Animagus, Porn With A Little Plot, Tail Porn) – Sherlock is determined to be an animagus. But what happens when it isn’t a fox or a horse or a dog he’s turning into?

Dead Letter Office by a_different_equation (M, 20,364 w. || ‘Bartleby’ Fusion / Office Setting AU || Different First Meeting, Epistolary, John’s Blog, Angst with a Happy Ending, Pre-Canon, John Watson is Sherlock’s Boss, PTSD John, Military Backstory, Writer John, Drug Use, Texting) – John Watson comes home from the war, gets a new job and meets Sherlock Holmes through Mike Stamford. Same tale since 1891, except this time it’s 2008, John is Sherlock’s boss, and they work together at the Dead Letter Office in London. It’s not a love story, until it finally is.

we have never seen a greater day than this by Lediona (T, 24,904 +w. || WiP || Royal Night Out AU || WWII / VE Day, Meet Cute, Prince Sherlock / Soldier John, Alternating POV) – Peace. At long last. It’s VE Day and Prince William desires to join the celebrations. It is a night of excitement, danger and the first flutters of romance.

Aquiver by Junejuly15 (M, 25,852 w. || Fashion Designer AU || PA John Watson / Fashion Designer Sherlock, Sherlock’s Feelings, Romance, UST, Arrogant Sherlock, Drug Use, Confessions, Protective Mycroft, Parties, BAMF John, Misunderstandings, First Kiss / Time) – Sherlock Holmes is a successful and arrogant fashion designer and John Watson his new PA. Of course, sparks fly between them.

False Advertising by ravenscar (E, 27,722 w. || Office AU / Devil Wears Prada Inspired || Victor Trevor, Flashbacks, Hurt / Comfort, Angst with Happy Ending, Younger John/Older Sherlock, Marriage Proposal) – Sherlock is John’s boss and mentor at an advertising agency. Can they find love in the cut-throat workplace?

Out and Loud by paradigmfinch (M, 28,233 w. || Popstar AU || Dancer/Ballet Sherlock / Singer John, Fluff, Falling in Love, Mutual Pining, Jealousy) – John Watson is a 22 year old pop star who’s about to come crashing out of the closet.Sherlock Holmes is a reluctant fanboy auditioning to dance in his next music video. Part 1 of Out and Loud

Looking Glass Cabaret by lymphadei (E, 30,874 w. || Cabaret AU, Alternate First Meeting, Drag Queen John, Fluff and Smut, Drama, PWP) – Lady Grey leant up on her toes, her hands on either side of his neck to steady herself as she pressed her lips against Sherlock’s ear. “I wouldn’t say a devil, Mr Holmes, but I’m definitely not on the side of the angels.” Then, she pulled back slightly to place a lingering kiss on his cheek. Part 4 of the Interpersonal Affairs series

Through Dangers Untold by hogwartswitch (E, 32,003 w. || Labyrinth AU) – The Goblin King has fallen in love with John Watson and visits him in dreams. But the evil wizard who cursed the Goblin King cannot allow that to continue. Will John survive the labyrinth? Or will he become a lost goblin like all the rest?

An Everlasting Inferno by thatawkwardfriend (M, 35,011+ w. || WiP || Criminal AU || Different First Meeting, Minor Character Death, Gun Violence, Sherlock Whump, Friends to Lovers / Enemies to Lovers, UST, Mutual Pining) – Sherlock and John are both men who operate outside the law. John works for Mary and her hitmen in order to keep a roof over his head. Sherlock does anything his drug dealer asks of him in exchange for free drugs and housing. They meet one night in a darkened garage to negotiate a deal. But they soon find out that neither of their bosses are being entirely honest with them about their goals or motives. With a little poking around, they stumble upon something much bigger than themselves and discover that perhaps, it might be in their best interests to work together. (Loosely inspired by StartUp and Little Favour)

Leveling Up by philalethia (M, 36,961 w. || Video Gamer AU || Different First Meeting, Epistolary, Gaming, Internalized Homophobia, Sexuality Crisis, Past Drug Use) – John plays video games, Sherlock writes a guide on GameFAQs, and they get on quite well together… eventually.Told entirely through emails, text messages, and voice chats.

Learning Curve by thpontiacbandit (M, 41,422 w. || Teacher / Parent AU || America, Fluff and Smut, Parentlock, Frottage) – John is a Kindergarten teacher. One of his students, a boy named Henry Holmes, refuses to speak in school. John is determined to get to the bottom of it, and that is how he meets Sherlock Holmes.

Fly Very High by yalublyutebya (E, 46,533 w. || Formula One AU || Rivalry, Permanent Injury, Hate / Angry Sex) – John Watson was born to be a racing driver, and even a crash isn’t enough to keep him out of a car for long. But coming back is not that easy, especially when he meets his new teammate, Sherlock Holmes.

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock’s closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don’t need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

The Doubtful Comforts of Human Love by PoppyAlexander (M, 61,500 w. || Ballet / Rugby AU || Ballet Sherlock / Rugby John, Est. Long-Term Relationship, Marriage, Case Fic, Blow Jobs, Implied Infidelity, Angst, Dirty Talk, Violent Outbursts, Arguments, Relationship Discussions, Love Letters, Grand Gestures, Hopeful Ending) – UK Ballet principal dancer Sherlock Holmes and assistant rugby coach John Watson met and fell in love as ambitious, optimistic teenagers. Twenty years on, they are entering midlife, facing the break-down of their bodies and the ending of their careers, and contemplating what the future holds for two middle-aged men forced to start over. With a frightening crisis unfolding at the Ballet, Sherlock must balance the demands of his career, his friendships, and his marriage with his own struggle against bitterness and discontent, while John takes a long-overdue glance from the outside, in, and stutter-steps toward making a kind of peace.

The Craving in Between by love_in_mind_palace (E, 69,349 w. || Wedding Planner AU || Infidelity, Romance, Angst with Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, Sexting & Texting, Alternating POV, Mary is Not Nice) – Sherlock Holmes, The wedding Consultant. Picky about his projects and a nightmare to work with. Rejects ninety percent of the couples after just having a look at them and can predict how long a marriage will last. But when unassuming, plain, John Watson reluctantly limps his way in his office, with his more than enthusiastic fiancée, Mary Morstan, instead of dismissing the ill-assorted couple on the spot, he promptly decides that the project, and the groom.. are definitely worth working on.

Philia and Eros by distantstarlight (E, 84,660 w. || Historical AU || Friends to Lovers, Time Travel, Kilts, Possessive Behaviour, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, Implied Rape/Non-Con) – Love is timeless but time isn’t necessarily linear. John Watson and Sherlock Holmes are about to embark on an unintended adventure that will take them far away from the comfortable confines of 221 B Baker Street. Part 1 of Strange Paths

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU || BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn’t truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes.” Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

Cake and Other Sins by Indybaggins (E, 100,670 w. || Great British Bakeoff AU || Alternate First Meeting, Angst, Baking, Desire, Disability, Incest (Holmescest/Holmescest with John), Masturbation, Falling in Love, Oral, Outdoor Sex, Past Drug Use, Poisoning, Voyeurism) – Sherlock and John meet as competing bakers on The Great British Bake Off. There’s intense baking, lush recipes and enticing food. Mycroft, guilt, past sins in chocolate and gingerbread. And love. That too.

The Bang and the Clatter by earlgreytea68 (M, 137,049 w. || Baseball AU || Slow Burn / Dev. Rel.) – Sherlock Holmes is a pitcher and John Watson is a catcher. No, no, no, it’s a baseball AU. Part 1 of Baseball

Emperor Tales of the Frozen South by cwb (M, 153,444 w. || Penguin AU || Adventure, Rituals, Fluff, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Gay Rights, Bonding, Antartica) – At the bottom of the world, two intrepid explorers make their way in the harshest of environments. An important journey must be taken, and prophecies fulfilled, but not before family meddling, political interference, and self-doubt threaten to alter the future of an entire species.If you know me at all, you know that this had to be done. Part 1 of Emperor Tales of the Frozen South

The Jewel in the Tower by PoppyAlexander (E, 207,079 w. || Dystopian AU, Violence, Rape/Non-Con Elements, Mild Dub Con, One World Government, Class Issues, Assassin John / Geisha Sherlock, Self Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Espionage, Miscommunication, Sexual Fantasy, Masturbation, Letters/Texting, Phone Sex, Infidelity, First Time, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Injury Recovery, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Scars, Misgendering, Happy Endings) – In a contemporary dystopia, Unity is peace – despite the fact unsanctioned information, illicit currency, and every sort of danger flows unchecked in the world’s pleasure districts. John Watson, a weary hired gun, is assigned by the mysterious Mentor to investigate a subversive element lurking in the Icehouse, the world’s most famous House of Repose. As accustomed as he is to dealing with the unexpected, John is nevertheless woefully unprepared to meet the gem of the Ice house, Xie, the world renowned “drashaskaya,” the living work of art after which all other drashas are modeled. In sumptuous suites, amid trailing puddles of silk and fervent whispers in the night, John soon learns that nothing is as it seems in the floating world of London’s pleasure district. (PUBLISHED AS “At Night in the Floating World”)

You Go To My Head Series by 7PercentSolution and J_Baillier (E, 257,765+ w. across 8 Stories, WiP || Surgeon AU || Medical Realism, Doctor John / Doctor Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Addiction, Angst, Slow Burn, PTSD, Pining, Insecurity) – This series is an alternate universe one, featuring the exciting medical and romantic adventures of doctors Watson (senior neuroanaesthetist) and Holmes (neurosurgeon).

Enigma by khorazir (M, 289,667 w. || Codebreaker / WWII / Imitation Game-Inspired AU || Case Fic, Espionage, Period-Typical Homophobia / Sexism, Pining Sherlock, Inexperienced / VirginSherlock, Implied / Referenced Drug Use, Non-Graphic Violence) – It’s the autumn of 1941, war is raging in Europe, German U-boats are raiding Allied convoys in the Atlantic, the Luftwaffe is bombing English cities, and the cryptographers at Bletchley Park are working feverishly to decode their enemies’ encrypted communications. One should consider this challenge and distraction enough for capricious codebreaker Sherlock Holmes. But the true enigmas are yet waiting to be deciphered: an unbreakable code, a strange murder, and the arrival of Surgeon Captain John H. Watson of the Royal Navy.

Deflowered - Director’s Cut by Lorelei_Lee (E, 328,535 w. || Mafia / Mob AU || Rape/Non-Con, Dub-Con, Boss John/Rentboy Sherlock, Bottomlock, Virgin Sherlock, Pining Sherlock, Jealous John, Prostate Milking, Sounding, Anal Beads/Plug, Anal Sex / Fingering, Spanking, Begging, Blow Jobs, Riding Crops, Begging, Romance, Desperation, Minor Character Death, Implied Self Harm, Violence) – It should have been strictly business. Being a Mafia boss with a sadistic sexual streak, John had long since realised that his playthings were in it for the money only. Being a masochistic rent boy, Sherlock seemed too good to be true. Little did they know…

#steph replies #johnlock fic recs #my fic recs #johnlock au #alternate professions #Anonymous #long post

307 notes · View notes

mydearestreaderfanfics · 5 years ago

Text

Labor and Longing (Allura x Reader)

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 1,914

Prompt/Request: First day of the October Special: Fall Festival Fundraiser.

Summary: Reader has a busy schedule for the fall festival fundraiser, but their friend Allura makes it a lot easier to bear.

Author: Mod Alex

You didn’t originally intend to be vice president of the student government at Garrison University. In fact, you didn’t really want the position at all at first. But, when Allura came over to you looking distraught and talking in a frenzy, practically begging you to join in her campaign after her last VP dropped out, well you couldn’t exactly say no. Not that you would have anyway; Allura was basically your kryptonite and everybody but she knew it. So, instead, you agreed through a weary smile. The bone-crushing hug she gave you made it all worth the while- which brought you to where you are now.

Where you are now being the Fall-A-Palooza, an annual festival held by the school clubs to raise money for the upcoming year. Since Allura and you had won the election earlier on in the year, it was your job to fundraise for the student government. Allura was out trying to attract people, a task that wouldn’t be hard as everyone who met Allura was instantly dazzled by her charm, and you were sat at the booth overlooking the activities. For a donation of the person’s choice, they could paint a pie pumpkin, or if they preferred, for the low price of five bucks they could carve a prepped Jack-o-lantern pumpkin to enter the pumpkin carving contest. The culinary department had even worked together with the student government to turn all of the pre-prepped pumpkins into bags and bags of roasted pumpkin seeds, the proceeds being split 50/50. You were having a surprisingly good turn out and, truth be told, you were quite pleased to get to make the example pumpkins. So far you’d painted a cemetery scene, a funny face, and a pretty simplistic fall based pattern on several pie pumpkins hoping the variety would inspire different people. You’d also carved a classic Jack-o-lantern for the contest display. You’d just finished getting a little kid set up at the painting station when Allura made her return.

“Wonderful! It looks as though our hard work is paying off. Oh, um…” She giggled and you cocked your head to the side inquisitively. “It’s just, you’ve got a little something right there.”

You wiped at your cheek where she was pointing at on herself. “Did I get it?”

“Not quite. Here.” She dabbed a paper towel into the clean water before moving over to you, gently cupping your jaw, holding your head in place with one hand and dabbing at the paint on your cheek with the other. You flushed; her face was so close to yours. And her hand, oh my god her hand was so soft and the way she held your face was like she was holding a fragile antique doll- with a great deal of care. “There. Much better.” She spoke softly, voice barely above a whisper just loud enough for the two of you to hear- it felt intimate. She smiled at you but it wasn’t the usual broad grin she would share with the world- this one was different, more affectionate and it made your knees week. Her hand lingered before she hesitantly stepped away. “We should, um, get back to work.”

You still felt a little dazed. “…Yeah.” Just then someone coughed, drawing your attention to the front of the booth where your mutual friend Romelle stood, a smug smile on her lips. You blushed, looking down at the table while you walked over. “What, uh, what can I do for you, Melle?” Your voice cracked and you did your best to recover, despite your cheeks still being obviously flushed. Allura, despite you being too caught up in your own bashful state to notice, wasn’t faring much better, however, she was shooting Romelle a look that said: “say something and I will quite literally stab you”. Romelle giggled, looking smugger than either of you appreciated.

“Oh, nothing really. I just wanted to stop by and see how it was going. Get an idea for my shift tomorrow.” She spoke clearly like what she was saying was obvious, but the ever-present satisfied grin made her words feel less than true.

“Yes, well, things have been going quite well. We've stayed consistently busy. You should do fine tomorrow, just bring spare brushes.” Allura spoke as if she wasn’t as flustered as you and you felt stupid suddenly for getting so worked up. Allura hadn’t meant anything romantic by her gesture, you were friends nothing more. Your head snapped up as you heard one of the kids calling for you. No time for self-pity, there was work to be done. You left Romelle and Allura to talk while you set up more paint and handed out a new pumpkin kit. A little while later Allura gave you a hasty goodbye so she could return to her previous task. After that, you didn’t have much time to sulk as the oncoming crowds left you busy, too busy to remember, much less think of the turmoil you felt from earlier.

The festival dragged on later than expected and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t ready to drop. Allura didn’t seem to be faring much better. At some point in the day, she’d haphazardly done her hair up in a ponytail which now looked to be more of a hair down look than an updo. Still, she offered you a genuine smile.

“Good work today, (Y/n).”

“Thanks, Lura, you too.” You two packed the pumpkins up in silence. Although it wasn’t necessarily an uncomfortable silence, you felt the need to break it. Just as you opened your mouth to speak, Allura spoke up.

“Would you like to ride together? I know you came with Romelle, but she had to hurry home a bit earlier.”

“That would be wonderful actually. Thank you.” You flashed her a smile, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. She nodded, smiling as you both loaded the last few crates into her car. You were closing the back hatch, ready to get into the car when you saw Allura had already opened your door for you. She smiled, waiting patiently and you felt your heart pound. She really was going to be the end of you at this rate. You slipped into the passenger seat, giving her a soft ‘thank you’ with fear of saying any more leading to a sudden profession. And yet, you noted that her voice mimicked the softness of yours when she responded to you.

The drive to your house was filled with stolen glances and shy smiles. You couldn’t help but notice the way the light of the street lamps shone through the window bathing her in an ethereal glow. It made you breathless. She looked like a goddess. You felt like a wreck; just the image of her at the forefront of a crisp fall night had you reeling. You looked away abruptly, as you saw her start to look at you- you definitely didn’t want to be caught staring. You didn’t expect her to take your hand in hers, though. The simple act made your tummy erupt in butterflies again and you dared not move for fear of her letting go. She didn’t. Instead, she laced your fingers together, staying like that all the way to your house. Friends didn’t do that… did they?

The following day you had fair duty again, albeit for the Theatre Society this time. You among several of the other students were dressed in possessed scarecrow and farm zombie costumes hidden throughout the haunted corn maze. It had been a lot of fun scaring people throughout the day. Most people weren’t that nervous with the sun blazing high in the sky, but as the sun lowered, so too did the patrons’ bravery. Soon enough you were in the zone, scaring people left and right. You’d just finished chasing a couple out of your restriction when you came across a familiar face at your waiting point. Allura looked incredibly nervous. You felt bad scaring her, but you guess she had paid for the cheap spook. You walked toward her, dragging your limbs with a heaviness that had been perfected throughout the day. At first, she looked ready to bolt, but she paused her retreat when she looked at you closer.

“(Y/n)? Is that you?” You nodded, grinning from behind the horror makeup. Student government may not have been your first choice but the Theatre Society had. Needless to say, you had a knack for the theatrics. Not to say you regretted joining the student government, you’d grown to enjoy it. Just not quite as much as the theatre.

“Yeah. You want me to show you the way?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want you to get in trouble.” Despite her protest, she looked visibly relieved by the offer.

“Nah, it’ll be fine.” You offered her your arm and she took it gingerly. “You don’t have to be nervous, Lura, it’s just me.” She didn’t say anything, but you did feel her grip on your arm tighten more assuredly.v

As you navigated your way through the maze with ease, you and Allura made small talk. Your section of the maze was decently big with no one else in sight. If you hadn’t offered to show her the way, Allura was quite sure she would’ve gotten lost for a good chunk of time. That wasn’t the only reason she was happy to be clutching onto your arm, though.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. You can ask me anything, you know that.”

“Right of course. Umm, it’s just I thought you hated being scared. Why would you come through here?” Allura choked on air, looking at you startled.

“Well, you see… I-“ She took a deep breath. “I came to see you.”

“Me? Thank you! But why subject yourself to all this?”

She looked away and despite the lack of proper lighting from the cloud-covered moon, you could still see the trace of a blush on her cheeks.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be here tomorrow and I needed to ask you something.”

“Ask away.” You felt touched that she wanted to ask you something enough to put herself through something she disliked so much.

“I wanted to know if you might want to accompany me to the fair. I mean I know we’re here already. What I mean to say is, would you be interested in joining me tomorrow?… Just us?” A date, she was asking you on a date.

“I’d love to.”

She smiled, hand slipping from your upper forearm to your hand. The action reminded you of the night before and you found yourself grinning right back at her. Before long you’d found yourselves at the end of your section.

“Here. Tell the other actors that I gave you this and to let you through.” You tugged your necklace off, placing it over Allura. It was something you always wore and the other actors were sure to recognize. She touched her fingers to the pendant.

“Thank you.” You were about to tell her it was no problem when she pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. It was teasing almost, but you didn’t mind. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, see you.” She giggled at how wonderstruck your voice sounded. With a hop in your step, you went back to your waiting point, a certain excitement for tomorrow sticking with you the rest of the night.

#voltron #allura x reader #fanfictions #princess allura #mod alex

23 notes · View notes

hazellvesque · 5 years ago

Text

In Perfect Harmony

A collection of lovesquare centered one-shots, short stories, and drabbles based on song lyric prompts.

AO3

Chapter 1: Kiss The Girl | >>

“She won’t say a word until you kiss the girl.” -The Little Mermaid

Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

She supposed it could be worse. The last time an akuma escaped them before she was able to purify it, the city was in shambles.

At least now there was no threat of buildings falling down or innocent lives being threatened. But still, it had been two whole days and she was running out of ideas. How was she going to use her power if she couldn’t speak?

When Luka had turned into Silencer, it was different. Her voice still existed somewhere, all she had to do was find a way to get someone else to use it to her advantage.

This time? There were no clever tricks up her sleeve. Even her lucky charm had proved to be utterly useless.

At least she was able to skip her presentation in class on Monday. And with a valid excuse, no less.

“Look at it this way, Ms. Mendeleiev, it could be a lot worse,” Adrien said, gesturing over to Chloe, who had been one of the first to be hit by a blast from The Librarian’s book. She sat hardly upright at her desk, her head barely supported by her left hand as she drifted in and out of sleep.

The Librarian – whose identity was still unknown as she was still running amuck throughout Paris – had been cursing innocent people all over the city with the fates of classic literary characters. Chloe, it seemed, was fated to keep dreaming until her supposed true love came along to wake her. No one was too eager to try.

A few hours after The Librarian’s rampage started, it became clear that some of the victims could be helped, as long as they played along with their stories. Such a solution was easy for people like Ivan and Mylene, who had been able to break Ivan’s beastly curse simply by being in each other’s presence. Since the Beast already had someone he loved who also loved him in return, the spell was broken immediately.

Some people had even been lucky enough to turn water into wine, or have everything they touched turned to gold. The story plaguing – or benefitting – each person was entirely random. Some had even been hit with a blast from the cursed book and noticed no side effects, leaving them to wait in paranoia to see if their siblings would turn wicked or notice that their shoes were all suddenly too small.

Marinette suspected that Lila could have easily been living out the story of the Boy Who Cried Wolf, and the class would be none-the-wiser, as her grandstanding ways hadn’t changed in the slightest. She thought of the girl getting cursed like Pinocchio instead, and instinctively went to stifle a soundless giggle.

Alya, ever the chatterbox, was one of the worse off. Evidently, she had been cursed to live out the fate of the Greek nymph Echo, who could only speak words that others spoke first. She’d been communicating almost entirely in shrugs, eyerolls, and frustrated gestures for two days now.

Marinette, however, would take a frustrating game of call-and-answer any day over complete silence.

She’d hoped that, since she’d been hit while transformed, the effects would wear off once her Miraculous timed out, but no dice. She resisted the urge to fidget with her earrings – plain black and utterly useless now that she couldn’t call out to Tikki to transform again. At least she’d already used her Lucky Charm before she was hit.

Had this attack happened six months prior, the idea of Chat Noir learning her identity in that moment would have mortified her more than any embarrassing curse. But Adrien had figured out who she truly was – and vice versa – right around the end of the previous school year.

Revealing their identities had made things a hell of a lot harder regarding juggling their personal relationships, but at least Chat Noir was able to see her de-transform and not make a huge deal out of it anymore.

It would still take her a while before watching Adrien turn into Chat stopping being completely weird.

Over half of the class had been afflicted, and the final excuse from Alix, who could now only speak the absolute truth (“Alix, are you ready to present today?” “You know, I could, but it probably won’t be that good.”) sent Ms. Mendeleiev over the edge. Class was dismissed until Ladybug and Chat Noir could set things straight. Whenever that may be.

Adrien hooked his arm around Marinette’s elbow as the students filed out of the classroom, ignoring the looks from Alya and Nino that they’d been getting for months now. Not that any of their speculations were true. After half a year, Adrien and Marinette still hadn’t talked about what would happen next, if anything was to be expected at all. Perhaps if she was cursed to be silent forever they’d never have to have that awkward conversation. Maybe this akuma wasn’t so bad.

“Let me walk you home,” Adrien said, smirking in a way that was all Chat Noir. “No, I insist. Really, it’s not a big deal at all, no need to protest.”

She mustered up her most annoyed glare and hoped it would get her point across clearly.

They entered through the back door, with Adrien giving her parents a quick greeting before whisking her off to her room.

(“That’s so nice of you to be helping Marinette in class,” Sabine gushed. “So polite and considerate!”

Marinette couldn’t even groan in response.)

She opened the trapdoor to her room slowly, careful not to scatter their notes even more. She and Adrien had spent hours trying to theorize ways to purify the akuma, with Marinette communicating entirely in written notes that she haphazardly tossed to the ground every time an idea didn’t work out.

Tikki and Plagg flew out from their respective hiding spots the moment the door shut behind them.

“We’re just lucky you didn’t get hit too,” Plagg muttered to Adrien as he curled up on Marinette’s pillow, Tikki following close behind. “You two had better think of something quick before the akuma comes back for another round.”

Meanwhile Marinette laid back onto her chaise, entirely too frustrated to even think of any new bright ideas.

“Hey,” Adrien said gently, nudging Marinette’s foot aside as he took a seat next to her. “Think of it this way, things could be worse. You might have turned into a scarecrow with no brains. Or had a wicked witch try to fatten you up with cookies.”

Marinette scrunched her nose, pointing downwards towards the general direction of the bakery.

Adrien’s cheeks pinked. “Right. My bad. But your mom and dad are still safe for now, which just means we have to figure out a way to get you back to your old self sooner rather than later. What have we already crossed off the list?”

Marinette sat upright, fetching a stray paper that had some of their better ideas written down.

Ladyblog(?) was the closest thing they’d found to a solution, but even though there were plenty of clips of Ladybug summoning a Lucky Charm, no one had ever caught Marinette on video or audio uttering her transformation phrase, so that was a bust.

Destroy the book was the next best idea, and Chat would have no issue doing so as long as he avoided getting hit by one of its blasts first; but setting the butterfly free without any way to purify it was dangerous. They didn’t want another Stoneheart situation on their hands.

“We can always try to figure out the story you’ve been cursed with,” Adrien uttered the very words Marinette was regretting.

Because they both already knew exactly what story she was living. And it had already been two days.

Once upon a time a little mermaid signed her voice away to a sea witch, desperate to live on land with the prince she had fallen for. If she got him to fall in love with her in three days, she would regain her voice and live out her happily ever after.

No, Marinette thought. That couldn’t be the version she was living.

Ever since the moment they revealed themselves, they’d danced around this conversation, but the facts were clear as day: something much bigger than friendship laid between them. The mere thought of it now brought blood rushing to both of their faces.

Chat Noir had professed his love for Ladybug more times than she could count. Adrien had owned Marinette’s heart since he first gave her his umbrella. The two of them had managed to fall in love with each other without even realizing it.

And regardless of whether or not romance was involved, they were partners. The level of trust, respect, and care they held for each other was unprecedented. They were best friends. No words were needed to understand that.

Love wasn’t the stipulation here. Otherwise, the curse would already be broken.

No. The Librarian had a different idea in mind for them.

In this version of the fairytale, the prince has to kiss the princess in three days’ time to break the spell.

Marinette wanted to take her pillow and scream into it, even though no sound would come out.

It wouldn’t be either one’s first kiss, not even with each other. They had Dislocœur and Oblivio to thank for those instances. But both of those times had been hidden behind the masks and secret identities. This time they’d just be Marientte and Adrien. Friends. Partners. Something more?

Marinette risked a glance at Adrien. He looked back, a small sad smile on his face. Unmasked and honest and looking just as vulnerable as she felt.

“It’s okay. We can think of another way,” he tried to reassure her. “We’ve always found our way out of sticky situations before so. . .”

Marinette placed her hand over his. Slowly, she shook her head.

He stared back at her. Then blinked once, twice. “No?”

She shook her head again.

“You don’t think we can find a solution, do you?”

Marinette sighed and broke eye contact.

Adrien moved to kneel in front of her, making her look at him again.

“Listen,” he took both of her hands into his, effectively making her forget how to breathe for a moment as he spoke. “I have an idea. And I think you do too. Right?”

It took her a few moments to work up the courage to nod.

“But we can always try to think of something else, if you want,” he said gently.

Another moment passed. This time, she shook her head firmly. No. There was no time to sit around avoiding this.

At that, Adrien’s eyes widened. He glanced down at their intertwined fingers and smiled softly, almost laughing.

“I’ll be honest, my lady, this isn’t exactly what I thought of when I pictured this moment.”

He rose to his feet, pulling Marinette up with him. She let herself rise effortlessly, entirely too focused on the words that just left his mouth. He’s thought about this before. She couldn’t stop staring into his eyes. She never thought she’d hear him say those words.

“I thought maybe if I was lucky enough that we’d get to this point someday, I could make some kind of grand gesture. To make up for all of the times we’ve missed the mark before.”

Oh. Right. Chat Noir couldn’t remember either time they’d kissed. So that meant - Marinette realized - that for Adrien, this would be the first.

Adrien’s voice dropped even lower. “If you don’t want things to change, I understand. This doesn’t have to make things any different if you don’t want to. But if you don’t mind me saying this. . . I’ve wanted to tell you for a long time that I really, really want to kiss you. Is that okay?”

If only she could tell him that she’d always wanted things to be different. That for half a year, she’d been waiting for things to change. She’d just never had the courage to say it, all because of the fear of not knowing how he felt. And now she didn’t need to say any words at all to finally express what she’d been wanting to say all along.

Releasing her hold on his left hand, she touched his cheek lightly and pressed her forehead to his, hoping that the gesture was just as clear as a verbal confirmation.

Her eyes fluttered shut as he closed the distance between them, pressing his lips against hers.

She didn’t need to be living a fairytale to feel like she was floating on air. She’d go through years worth of Chat’s incessant flirting and her pent up nervousness over Adrien all over again if she knew it would lead up to this moment. There was no need for a sea witch or a final epic battle, just the relieving feeling of the weight being lifted off her shoulders to tell her that they were heading towards a happy ending.

Ever the gentleman, he pulled away mere seconds later, eyes opening slowly, the pink flush on his face refusing to budge.

“Was that alright?” he frowned slightly at his own question before rephrasing, “Did it work?”

And in response, Marinette giggled - a clear sound that echoed through her room - and whispered “Yes,” before kissing him again.

#miraculous ladybug #my writing #adrienette #ml fic #I procrastinated making this post because I couldn't figure out how I wanted to format it lol #iph

11 notes · View notes

nydharani · 7 years ago

Text

My Top 5 Scarecrow Versions

By now I’ve pretty much read a lot about this precious boy and I just wanted to do something like this.

Warning: Mild spoilers ahead!

From bottom to top:

5.- Batman: As the Crow Flies

In this version, Scarecrow has been hired by the Penguin to create a Fear Dust to use against Penguin’s enemies.

While I do not really like the appearance of Crane in this one (though the costume is lit) here we can appreciate how he is able to sympathize with his assistant and even care about her thoughts on him.

With the third position, this is the most human version of Jonathan Crane, rare but truly appreciated among so many cold-hearted versions of him.

4.- Scarecrow: Year One

While this is not my favorite origin story (gotta give that to Batman: Dark Knight – Cycle of Violence) everything about this one is just perfect.

The combination of the beautiful colours and drawings of the comic alongside the plot of it (and please that costume, it’s by far my favourite) makes this Crane truly memorable. Also, they captured incredibly well his lengthy and lithe body

What I most like about this one is, strangely, how he overcame his education (God’s wrath, the importance of his family name) and made a path for his own. He read and studied against his grandmother’s wishes (even before he caught her doing the thing with the crows).

Sure, the same outcome could’ve happened, but he would not be the Scarecrow without all the knowledge he acquired (and overcoming all the problems acquiring it brought him)

3.- The Batman Adventures: Annual 1

Boy do I like this story. Here we have a tired Crane, tired of being a criminal and being persecuted by the Bat. So, longing for a calmer life, he returns to his previous profession and, under a false name, starts to teach.

Though his class in general is mediocre, there is one student that stands out from the rest. Her name is Molly Randall and they quickly establish a relationship based on mutual respect and common interests.

However, one night she arrives after a “date” and, well…for her, he becomes Scarecrow once more. This isn’t just plain “sweet”, but also a show of how even the most vile men are able to care for others and have principles and morals.

2.- Forever Evil: Arkham War

If you want a story that shows the true potential of our precious boy, this is the one. Here, Scarecrow is not only a master of fear, but also an evil mastermind.

In a Gotham that finally belongs to the criminally insane, they will have to defend it against Bane and his men. Scarecrow becomes their “leader” and creates a plan to fight against them. He is the perfect mix of a mentally insane Scarecrow and the intelligent and annalist Jonathan Crane

Even though the story does not really end well for him, this is the perfect example of the great things he is capable to achieve which are often forgotten under his fear obsession.

1.- Harley Quinn (2016)

For me, this is the most in-character version of him. This is the kind of Scarecrow I picture in my head every time I think of him, in appearance and in personality. Sadly, he’s only present for two issues, but oh boy are those worth it.

As Scarecrow, his costume is perfect: simple, frightening and practical (as practical as dressing up as a scarecrow can be xd) However, the real deal comes when he is Jonathan Crane.

His physique is just plain perfect; on point actually. His body is lengthy and thin and his grimace is dead-serious. Also, while we can see why he could’ve been bullied at school for his ugliness boy do I find this man attractive as fuck.

While he can be a well-manned man and have the presence of a professional man, he bleeds sassiness. While the woman starts to yell at him and treat him unkindly, he remains calm and professional. He does not care int he slightest about her and her thoughts, only about getting the job done.

The best thing? You really don’t want to mess with his Scarecrow. He does not only infect his foes with fear gas but also controls what they see and thus, their actions. I hope we’ll see him again.

Wow this took me more than I expected!

#jonathan crane #scarecrow #top 5 #dc #comics #top 5 versions #batman comics #scarecrow year one #harley quinn (2016)#arkham war #batman adventures #batman #I can't get enough of this man

258 notes · View notes

stripesthesupervillain · 7 years ago

Text

The Mad Hatter’s Guide to Happiness: Chapter 11

<<- First

<- Previous

Next ->

Summary: Batman takes an interest in the two villains' week out, deciding to get personally involved. Scarecrow and Mad Hatter find a place to stay after the day's events.

Don’t want to read this on Tumblr? Read it here! (I’ll add links to more chapters tomorrow.)

“As of now, police are unable to locate the two criminals, Jervis Tetch and Jonathan Crane, better known by their criminal personas as the Mad Hatter and the Scarecrow.”

Bruce Wayne was drawn away from his phone call upon hearing the two familiar names on the television. He raised a brow, initially confused as he watched the news report., he leaned back on his chair, paying more attention to the woman presenting herself on TV rather than his friend on the other end of the line.

“With a count of twenty-one confirmed kills by the pair, including twenty SWAT and the chief of police, Walter Paloozi, the town now lives in fear every waking hour of the night. No one knows why they’ve come to the small town, nor why they have decided to join forces, but one thing is for sure: they won’t slow down if they aren’t stopped.”

“Hey, Lucius, I'm sorry, but something just came up. Yeah, trouble. We'll talk about the device later. I’m gonna have to call you back,” Bruce sighed, quickly hanging up the phone and rising from his chair. “Alfred, turn up the volume.”

“We’ve had several reports that the kill count is higher than originally expected, with two new bodies having appeared so far fitting Tetch’s MO. Without the town's personal Batman to stop them, and the police force showing to have been a poor match for them, it seems that anything can happen at this point, and we can only pray for their safety as they are forced to adapt to Gotham's special breed of crime. Stay tuned for more as the story develops.”

The two stared at the TV as they quickly flashed images of the criminals, both in costume and out of costume. “It seems that I may have to work out of state, Alfred,” Bruce sighed, turning off the television and heading to the bookcase that hid his biggest secret. Alfred followed after him dutifully, standing by as they waited for the bookcase to shift out of the way to reveal the entrance to the Batcave. “Usually I wouldn’t suggest having other states outsource your services, Master Bruce,” Alfred sighed, “as you are only one man. However, this seems to be a different matter altogether, so I suppose there's no point in trying to convince you, is there?” Bruce gave a curt nod as he trotted down the stairs, the floodlights to the cave activating to shine down on the complex series of computers and vehicles he used for his secret hobbies. “Usually I would let them solve their own problems, Alfred, but this is Scarecrow and Mad Hatter we’re talking about. While Tetch's predictability is limited to the Lewis Carrol books, he's still a deranged schizophrenic and still a threat, and Crane is a sadist with enough fear gas to bomb an entire country. I need to go to Georgia and stop them before they can hurt any more people.”

“Master Bruce, these two are not your responsibility,” Alfred reasoned, following at a steady pace as Bruce got onto the batcomputer to get the coordinates for the last known location of the masked men. “Maybe not,” he replied, “but I am responsible for helping to protect this city, and I let these Crane and Tetch slip under the radar. I didn’t even realize they were gone until literally three minutes ago, Alfred, and now another town is paying for this mistake,” he sighed, going over to begin putting on his infamous batsuit. Alfred didn’t reply, merely watching from afar as he occasionally checked the computer for updates. Wayne had just put on the chest plate and had begun to fit on his boots when he stopped, considering a thought. “They killed over twenty people, Alfred,” he murmured, clutching his mask in his left hand in simmering anger. “If there is a chance I can stop them before anyone else just to save a few more lives, I’m more than willing to go any distance.”

Once his mask was on and he was fully suited up, he moved over to the computer, collecting any information that he would need. “I’m going to need to use the batmobile,” he told his butler, typing into the computer in order to see which roads he would need to use to get there the fastest. “I’ll have to go at full speed if I want to get there quickly. There’s no time to plan anything else.”

“What do you expect to do once you get there?” Alfred questioned, watching him as he began to head towards the batmobile. “Find them. I’ll have to set up a few crime scenes and check for anything they’ve left behind, and once I get ahold of them, I'm bringing them back to Gotham,” Batman informed him. “I know them, Alfred. Crane isn’t one to just run away from his problems, and Tetch loves Gotham too much to move away.”

“Not a common interest between Englishmen, I can assure you,” Alfred commented.

“They came there for a reason, most likely of Crane’s own interest. From what the computer says, Tetch has no connection with Georgia, much less even stepped foot in it. Crane must be after something. Something important, I’m sure. I’ll make sure he won’t get it. Check the computer for any linking factors between Crane and the town. Make sure you hit all bases, including profession and personal life. Oh, and make sure Robin keeps the city safe while I’m gone.”

“Understood, Master Bruce,” Alfred nodded as Bruce hopped into the armored vehicle. “Stay safe, sir. You’ve stopped several villains at once before, but there’s always a risk.”

“I’ll be home before next week, I can assure you,” Batman said confidently, lowering the roof of the batmobile and revving up the engine. It was going to be a long couple of days, he was sure of that. Even as he drove off, he couldn’t help but wonder why these two criminals would travel such a far distance to wreak havoc.

Little did he know, someone else was wondering the same thing, and they were determined to figure out this little enigma.

The Mad Hatter and Scarecrow were more than overjoyed by the time they broke through the line of trees, their run slowing to a steady walk. Breathing heavy, Scarecrow was still laughing lightly to himself, still a bit animated after the day’s events. Bits of blood was still visible on his costume, but neither of them really seemed to care. Jonathan would care when he would have to wash the damn thing, but that's for another time.

“Oh, I honestly wish I could have recorded all of that,” Scarecrow chuckled, one hand on his scythe and the other on the duffle bag slung around his shoulder. The two were still in costume, of course, attempting to find a good point to where they were safe to change. “You’ve said that at least three times,” Mad Hatter grinned, looking up at him. “I have to say, I’ve never seen you look so spirited about anything before.”

“I enjoy a good adrenaline rush every now and again,” Scarecrow murmured, calming down as he looked over the parking lot they had come across, sparsely populated by only a few cars. “It beats sitting in an office and listening to the problems of everyone else. Now, which one should we pick?” They surveyed the area. While it was still the black of night, street lights were able to illuminate the area and give them a clear picture of where they were heading.

“Oh, I like the red one,” Hatter pointed out, gesturing to a small red car that would perfectly seat the two of them. It looked cheap and rather plain and unnoticeable, which was perfect for them. “The red one it is,” Scarecrow declared, beginning their trek through the lot. “So how many of those cards do you have left?”

“Quite a few,” Hatter replied, not bothering to check his bag. “I always bring a chess set’s worth.” They stopped at the car, where he watched Scarecrow skillfully break in and begin to fiddle with the wires. “So how much toxin would you say you have left?”

“A few canisters,” the taller villain replied, grunting as the wires didn’t seem to be connecting. “So I’d say enough to break at least a hundred minds. In case that fails, I still have a scythe and an axe, whereas you don’t have a weapon of any kind.”

“Well, I usually I have other people do my bidding who usually have weapons,” Hatter huffed, watching him move the wires in the obviously wrong places. “Er, Hare, I don’t believe-“

“I know what I’m doing,” Scarecrow spat, before cursing when one of the wires gave him a little shock, although it wasn’t felt through the gloves. Hatter rolled his eyes, grabbed the other’s arm before he could protest, and ducked under the steering wheel. Within seconds, the car came to life. When he came back up, he dusted his dinner gloves on his coat. “I suggest you leave the technology to me. Hares don’t climb trees and haberdashers don’t live in burrows. It’s just not practical,” he chuckled, going and getting into the driver’s seat. “Says the one in Wonderland,” Scarecrow scoffed, getting into the passenger seat. Normally he wouldn’t let Hatter drive the car, as it was akin to trusting him with his very life, but he decided to let him have it this time. With a sigh, he pulled off his hat and mask as they began to pull off, revealing unusually unkempt red hair and a man with a stupid grin on his face, which slowly faded with time.

“Ah, Wonderland seems to be more exciting than usual, doesn’t it?” Hatter sighed, adjusting his hat. Jonathan knew he wasn’t going to take that thing off until he was asleep and didn’t bother to tell him off. “It sure does,” he muttered, now feeling more worn out. “Let’s just find a place to stay for the night and get out once daylight hits. I don’t want to spend another second here.”

“How about one of the neighborhood houses?” Jervis suggested, looking at an intersection that led to a cluster of houses. “That’s risky,” Jonathan replied, shaking his head. “We don’t want to wake any neighbors. They’re probably already high strung as it is.”

“Well you lived here, didn’t you?” Tetch said, looking over at him. “Where do you suggest we stay, then?” Jonathan had to think about this for a good few seconds, going through his terrible memories for any place they could stay that the police wouldn’t check out.

“On the next intersection, turn left and keep driving until you hit Duley Road,” he instructed. “There’s a small plaza that used to be filled with vacant shops. With any luck, a few of them may still be empty.”

Jervis nodded, beginning to follow as instructed as he began to rest against the car seat. He felt more tired than usual, which was understandable. Today was undoubtedly the third most eventful day of his life. He nearly died several times, so it was at least in the top five. Today was a good day, he’d say.

The car was filled with silence, with Jonathan now quieted and recounting the day’s events with a small smile. Jervis couldn’t help but become curious about some words shared several minutes earlier.

“Hey Hare,” he hummed, only receiving a grunt in response as a sign that he had his attention. “Do you really prefer this life over the life you could have had?”

Jonathan paused, looking over at him silently. Tetch took this as a sign to keep going. “It’s the question we all ask ourselves, isn’t it? If we could go back in time and stop ourselves from become this, would we?” He glanced over at the unamused Crane, who only let out a sigh after a minute and shook his head. “Tetch,” Jonathan sighed, “as much as I appreciate the conversation and attempts to keep away the silence, I really can’t bear any more questions for today. Save it for tomorrow.” Jervis let out a small titter of amusement, but nodded in understanding. If Jonathan was sick of questions and answers, it must have been a really long day for him. He just hummed a tune to himself and kept driving.

They soon came to the plaza his companion had mentioned, looking around the dimly lit area in search of anyone. Besides one lone car, there was really no one there. Sure enough, a few of the stores were empty, the signs torn down and the windows covered to show there was no longer any occupants.

It only took a few seconds and the door was soon opened, thanks to Catwoman’s helpful lessons. They trudged in with their things, locked the door, and took a look around. Jervis noticed the wallpaper still clinging to the interior was a light green with the occasional flower print. There was also an area where things were clearly meant to be on display, with lights and nozzles for misting water hanging above each display.

“I believe this place may have been for floristry, Hare. Oh, you know how I enjoy flowers,” Jervis mused, before frowning. “Except daisies. Those are always irritating to listen to.” Jonathan emerged from another room, now in his more citizen-type clothing, looking rather normal except for the unkempt hair. “It doesn’t matter what this place is for,” he scoffed, peering out the small cracks visible between the coverings of the windows. He could already see the red streaks of dawn starting to make their way towards the center of the black sky. “What matters is that we get some rest. News travels fast, Jervis. I’d rather not take the chance of Batman taking interest. Get some sleep.”

Tetch gave a curt nod, but gave a quick knowing smile to the doctor. “No pills, right?” he chuckled, watching as Crane turned to give him a small glare. He just shrugged it off. He soon found a good place to take a rest, before setting his hat to the side and nearly passing out then and there, not bothering to change out of his dirtied costume. Jonathan did the same, sitting nearby as he finally began to relax for the first time today. Well, the first time that didn’t involve being drugged. That time didn’t count. He let out a soft yawn, noticing it was becoming even brighter outside. He just grumbled in annoyance, turning away from the windows and closing his eyes.

Once they woke up, they would immediately head straight back to Gotham and nowhere else. He was already sick and tired of this town after just two days of being back. No one would stop them, and soon he would be back to terrorizing the people of Gotham. Those thoughts gave him some comforts as he began to rest up and drift off to sleep.

However, he would have to stay up a bit more, as soon enough, the phone rang.

Jervis audibly groaned in vexation, covering his ears. Jonathan just sighed and ignored the ringing until it finally stopped. Whoever it was could wait a few hours.

Of course, when the phone rang again, he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep without answering it. Even if he wasn’t called again, just not knowing who it was would be enough to keep him up a good hour or so. He angrily snatched up the phone, noticing Jervis sit up with an expression of both curiosity and slight annoyance. Jonathan recognized the caller ID as being from his base back in Gotham. It was Rockwell, most likely. Anyone else wouldn’t be a good sign. He let out an annoyed huff and answered the phone.

“Yes?” he greeted, going into an impatient stance as he leaned against a counter. “Whatever it is, it must be pretty damn important, Rockwell.” He could hear his henchman clear his throat in a nervous fashion. Something else could also be heard in the background, but he couldn’t identify it. It almost sounded like a voice.

“Well, Mister Scarecrow, sir,” Rockwell began, “I caught this guy sneaking around the base. Messing with all your chemicals and notes and stuff before I caught him. You know, the things you told me never to touch unless I want to end up in an Asylum?”

Jonathan furrowed his brow in initial confusion, before quickly becoming angry once again. “An intruder? Messing with my things? Well tell me you at least killed the imbecile.”

“Well, that’s the thing,” Rockwell replied. “I was going to, but he told me to cal you specifically. Told me I would regret it if I killed him. Called me a bunch of things, too.”

At this point, Crane was simply puzzled at the situation. “Who gives a damn who he is?” he scoffed. “What sort of brainless halfwit would even think to intrude upon my lair? If he was caught by you, he obviously can’t be of much importance. I won’t be shedding any tears, trust me on-“

That’s when he heard it. Whatever voice that was in the background soon became loud and clear.

“HALF-WIT? I’ll have you know that I was able to find both your base and figure out the access code in a mere hour, not an easy task for a mere simpleton. If it’s anyone lacking the brains of the bunch, it’s you for only hiring a single guard to protect the supplies that are integral to your potato sack visaged alter-ego!”

Jonathan had to pull the phone back in order to not damage his ear drums. He blinked in surprise, looking over at Jervis, who had heard the yelling man on the other end. Both recognized that voice clear as day, but both seemed unable to make sense of it.

“Is that…?” Tetch murmured slowly.

“It is…” Crane replied.

They looked at each other and back down at the phone. They practically said it at the same time, equally as confused.

“Nygma?”

#MHGH #Batman #Alfred Pennyworth #Jervis Tetch #Mad Hatter #Jonathan Crane #Scarecrow #Edward Nygma #Riddler

10 notes · View notes