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pinguwrites · 1 year ago

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You Set My Soul Alight | Jonathan Crane

Pairing -> sub!jonathan crane x villain!reader

Summary -> You and Jonathan Crane have always been at odds. He's an arrogant asshole and you're a sarcastic shit, and no matter what you always find a way to bump heads. The worst part about it is that deep down you find him brilliant and attractive and utterly intoxicating. One day, Crane comes to you with a plea to enticing to resist, and you find this the perfect opportunity to put him in his place.

Warnings -> smut (minors dni), enemies with feelings, sub!Jon acting like a brat, swearing, dom!reader, degradation kink, ma'am kink, unprotected sex, edging, hair pulling, ball slapping, slapping in general, if you squint real hard Jonathan's lowkey a little sexist, bruce wayne is a playboy, reader's kinda a simp

Word count: 5k

Disclaimer: The Dark Knight trilogy/DC characters, plots, quotes, etc. do not belong to me and belong to the rightful owner(s). This is only fanfiction and this is just for fun.

Jonathan Crane glared at you, his piercing blue eyes filled with a layer of contempt and almost embarrassment like he was regretting this entire endeavor. It was delightful, seeing him in this state, and you made sure to enjoy every second of it — the way his cheeks were tinting a light pink, his muscles tensed up and his tone coming out a desperate yet still arrogant plea. Moments like these were rare, and you were ready to savor and drag them out every chance you got.

“I need your help,” he repeated, his tone distasteful like he was swallowing a bitter pill. “I told you, I need more money for my experiments, but I can’t do it without any funding. Wayne Enterprises is hosting a gala next week. All the richest of the city will be there and all of them are looking to donate. Charity, science, whatever will make them look good. I know you’re going, so I’m asking — as polite as I can be — please, get me an invite.”

You tilted your head to the side, eyes trailing off to look at some random painting on the wall. You briefly wondered how he got past your home security, but after a few seconds, you focused your attention back on him. “Sorry, what did you say? Can you repeat that?” you said with a slight grin.

Jonathan pursed his lips. “Don’t be clever with me.” But then he shakes his head and lets his serious facade go. “We both know you have the connections to score another invite . . . Please, my darling.”

Your heart fluttered at the nickname, the way it always did when he called you that. You wondered if he knew just how much you enjoyed it.

“I like it when you beg, it’s always been a good look on you.”

Jonathan smiles. A mock smile.

“Well, it’s true. No point in getting all upset.” You shrug, heading over to your kitchen to get some iced coffee for the both of you. “Tell me, why should I help you? Why should I help the man who has made it his mission to offend me every time we speak?”

You may have been a little unfair in saying that. Sure, he was a brat, but so were you. In fact, ever since you two met you had always been at each other’s throats, demeaning one another, insulting everything from intellect to personality to looks. You doubt your paths would have ever crossed had it not been for your good friend Harley, who introduced you both one fateful summer evening.

You don’t know what went wrong that day. Maybe it was the weather, the exceptionally hot wind that only frequented Gotham once every couple of years, the ones that made the city cranky and sweaty, or perhaps it was simply a bad first impression, the ones that just happened every once in a while. It had happened far too long ago to remember what it was that made you dislike Jonathan so much in the first place, and you were sure it didn’t matter. According to everyone who knew him, he had always been an ass, but he was good company once you got to know him.

Maybe he was. You wanted to figure that out, to peel away the layers of armor. You could be friends, lovers even. He could be yours. Yours to do whatever you wanted with. Yours to put in place, because god knows he needed it.

You weren’t sure when you started to think like this. To grow an obsession, but you did, and you couldn’t stop your feelings now. You didn’t want to stop. Loving Jonathan was too addictive, no matter how much he pretended to hate you — because you knew he didn’t actually hate you. Otherwise, he wouldn’t stop in once every while, under the pretense of snarky put-downs or brags. He wouldn’t graze his fingers with yours when walking by, and he wouldn’t ask your friends (namely Harley) what you did, what you liked, and what you talked about.

“Because deep down,” Jonathan answered, following you into the kitchen, “you know I’m brilliant, and you know I deserve your help.” He accepted the coffee, taking a small sip before continuing, “But you’re too prideful to admit it.”

“Maybe I am, but that’s not a good reason. Deserve isn’t enough, Crane. At least not for me. I know you can do better than this, convince me. That mouth must be good for something.”

Jonathan paused, his tongue briefly sweeping over his lower lip, making it glisten in the light of the lamp. You weren’t sure if the brief silence was because he got flustered, or he was just thinking. “Then do it because you want to,” he finally said. “Because you know my research is important and you care for it, enough to do me this one simple favor.”

“I don’t know . . .” you trailed off in a teasing tone.

It seemed like Jonathan was getting annoyed again. “My dear, won’t you help me?”

“I’m still thinking.”

He groaned. “Pretty please?”

You let out a little sigh, barely audible. “I will. For you.”

That last part had intended to come off as flirtatious and pretentious, but instead, it was soft and delicate, so vulnerable it took you off guard.

“Thank you,” he said, setting his glass down. He had finished all of the coffee, quickly enough so that there were still ice cubes lying on the bottom of the glass. “I’ll pick you up, around four. Who knows, maybe we’ll even have some fun.”

And that was it. He left through your front door without saying anything else, leaving you with thoughts of the gala and what dress you were going to wear.

That next week you had settled on one and bought yourself a burgundy dress, a beautiful shade of red, one like expensive wine or fresh blood, a color that you knew looked good on you. It was a deep cut that went through the valley of your breasts, but if you pressed your arms inwards just slightly, which you fully intended to do, they would push up. It was a look classy enough for a gala, but still seductive enough to garner attention.

Originally, you weren’t going to attend the function at all. This kind of stuff had always been boring for you, even as a child who was forced to go, but if Jonathan was going on your behalf then you sorta had to and definitely wanted to.

A ring sounded through your house. He was here.

You opened the door and took a deep breath once you saw Jonathan. He was dressed in a neat suit, but not like the suit he was wearing when you last saw him. This one was charcoal black, silky, and smooth, with a white handkerchief in his outer breast pocket. His shoes were the same color and looked like they had just been shined, and in his hand was a bouquet of red roses.

“For you,” he said, placing them in your hands. His eyes swept over your figure, and his mouth parted for a moment. “It matches.” You huffed, secretly flattered. “But it’s such a shame.” You furrowed your eyebrows, confused. “Such a pretty little dress wasted on such an ugly little thing.”

You blinked, and then tossed the flowers to the side, letting them fall into a patch of dirt (you were definitely going to pick them up later). “Like you’re such a piece of work.”

“I am,” he said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Men and women love me.”

Despite how attractive you found him, you really didn’t believe that. You were sure his attitude warded most people off, and besides, he was an introvert and a criminal. Dating wasn’t just something people like him did often.

“We’ll see. This gala will be filled with attractive young bachelors. Get one interested in you and I’ll admit you're handsome,” you challenged.

“Admit?” He laughed, a beautiful laugh. “Admit implies that you already find me handsome, you just don’t want to confess so.”

This man needed to be slapped. He needed to be given a good, hard hit across the face.

“You know what? I feel like being alone tonight. I think I’ll just go to the gala without you.”

You were about to close the door, intending to head to your garage, but Jonathan grabbed your wrist and pulled you outside, shutting the door behind you.

“No takebacks. You promised. Where’s your honor?”

“Honor?” You scoffed. “I’m a killer, what did you expect?”

Jonathan must have really thought that you were going to leave because he gripped your wrist tighter. “I’m sorry,” he quickly said. “I’ll be good tonight.” He placed his index finger to his thumb with his free hand and made a zipping motion across his lips. “See?”

“You better be. I’m doing you a favor here. Now, come inside, we’ll take my car—”

“I have a car,” Jonathan said. “I even got us a driver.”

You took a peek over his shoulders. Sure enough, there was a fancy car waiting in the driveway, engine still on. It was difficult to see through the windows but you could make out the faint outline of a man in the driver’s seat.

“If you insist.”

He held out his arm for you to take, and while you did want to, you instead shoved it away. For a moment, you swore a flicker of hurt crossed his face, but it was gone too fast for you to be sure it was even there at all.

“Where’s my invite?” he asked.

“You don’t have one. You’re going as my plus one.”

“As your date?”

“It’s not a date. I thought you said you were going to be a good boy. What’s with all this complaining?”

“I’m not complaining, I was expressing my feelings. You should work on that. As a psychiatrist, I recommend—”

“—I recommend you shut the fuck up.”

Jonathan put his hands up, surrendering, but he did so beaming.

It hadn’t taken too long to get to the party. Traffic was high as always, but time seemed to be flowing faster than ever, despite you and Jonathan staying silent.

When you arrived there was a line of cars. Wayne Manor, a building you had only been to twice before, was still as impressive as you remember. It was a collection of elegant architecture and stonework, with a large wooden entrance that opened up to a main hall. The size of the driveway and front lawn was a bit unnecessary, at least to you, but what else could you expect from old money?

After getting out of the car you were greeted by cameras and reporters, lights flashing in your eyes, but you didn’t bother with them.

Jonathan reached out his hand, and this time you did take it — but only because everyone was watching, and if you pushed him away it would have caused an unnecessary scene. Jonathan’s driver drove the car away for parking and you both walked inside.

The inside was spacious, with chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and people dressed classy, with gloves and diamond earrings, all mingling and chatting with each other about the stock market or their annoying ex-spouse or how it was such a bother when their vacation to Switzerland had to be canceled because of work. There was a tray of snacks and waiters walking around with luxurious drinks, something you immediately took advantage of.

“Thank you, sir,” you said politely, taking a glass of champagne, but before you could take a sip someone called out your name.

You turned around to see Bruce Wayne himself waving over to you, a boyish charm about him. He had two women on his arms, models or prostitutes, or both, you couldn’t tell, but they were drop-dead gorgeous.

Your parents did business with him, and as a result, you met him at a young age. You were never really buddy best friends, but you went to the same school and that was enough for him to invite you to all his parties and greet you as though you were a family friend.

“You know Bruce Wayne?” Jonathan whispered, but before you could answer Bruce approached you both.

“I haven’t seen you around in a while,” he said. “This is Mila and Stephanie. Say hi ladies.” They giggled and waved as he gave the back of your hand a little kiss. “Gorgeous girl. You should wear these outfits more often, you truly look stunning.”

You let him put his arm around your waist, enjoying the compliment.

“Oh, no,” you said modestly. “It’s just a dress.”

Jonathan chuckles. “Ah, don’t be like that, my darling. You look exquisite.”

You all but glared at him. Now he said you looked nice.

“What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” Bruce removed his arm from around your waist and held it out to shake Jonathan’s hand.

“Dr. Jonathan Crane,” he responded, a little tense. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne.”

“Jonathan’s actually doing some research into brain chemistry,” you said.

“Really? Tell me about it, Dr. Crane,” Bruce said, flashing a charming smile.

“I would,” Jonathan responded, turning to you, “but I don’t wanna bore my girl.”

“Your girl?” Bruce repeated, eyes glancing at you. “ You’re a lucky guy. Tell me how scored such a beauty like her?”

“Oh, it wasn’t that hard.” Jonathan reached around and put his hand on your shoulder. “She was practically falling all over me.”

That was true, but your jaw still clenched. “He likes to exaggerate,” you told Bruce with a little laugh.

“Well, if you ever want to change things up a little, I’m right here.” Bruce winked comically, leaving with his girls.

You could tell Bruce wasn’t joking. It sounded like a serious offer, only told in a joking format so as to not rile Jonathan up, as he was under the impression Jonathan was your actual boyfriend.

“You’re a jealous mongrel,” you told Jonathan once Bruce was out of sight. You both walked over to a more secluded corner. “Can’t imagine the idea of having to share, huh? Had to go and make up stories?”

Jonathan scowled. “He was shameless around you. Be grateful I warded him off,” he said arrogantly. “And it’s not like you guys would have worked out. With what your hobby and all.”

You didn’t say anything. Jonathan was jealous, huh? You know felt a sudden urge to go after Bruce, get a little drunk, and follow him back to his room. It’s not like he wasn’t handsome, he was the most eligible bachelor in the city. And you did like him. He was funny and nice. Plus, you two had known each other for a long while. What a fun trope, especially if it was making Jonathan mad.

“A good fuck needs to work out only for the night.” You shrugged.

“You—you can’t,” Jonathan sputtered out. “You’re here with me, not him.”

“I don’t see the problem. I got you in the door and now you don’t need me anymore. What’s wrong if I have some fun?”

“You can’t.”

You waved him off, though you were enjoying the way he was pouting.

“Brat,” you muttered under your breath.

“I’m not a brat.” He gave a dry chuckle. “Excuse me for wanting to spend the night with you.”

“Then why don’t you act like it?” You grinned devilishly. “Act like you want nothing more than to be here.”

Jonathan’s breathing hitched. Yours did too.

“You want it?”

“Don’t be scared.”

After you said that he didn’t hesitate to lean forward to give you a hard kiss, bringing his hand around the back of your head to push you both even closer together. He pulled away, his face still close to yours.

“Like that?”

“Yeah, like that,” you breathed out.

“I can give you more,” he whispered in your ear, his breath almost ticklish. “I know you want it. Been fantasizing about me all this time, hmm?”

You smiled coyly.

“For me to bend you over like the whore you are—”

“—Careful, Crane. I might just have to slap you.”

“Say it. Say you want me to fuck you. Fucking say it—”

You took a quick glance around the room to see if anyone was looking, which they thankfully weren’t, and then gave Jonathan a quick, harsh slap to the face.

The force of it made his neck turn, and his cheeks immediately turned red. He stayed silent for a moment, looking up at you through thick eyelashes, eyes narrowed in lust. It was all the conformation you needed to grab his chin, lift his face up, and give him another slap.

Before you could say anything else he pressed his lips up against you again, pressing you up against the wall passionately.

You backed away, and he furrowed his eyebrows, but all you did was grab his hand, feeling a frenzy of desire take over you. “Let’s go.”

You dragged him through the sea of people and out a backdoor. There were a couple of people walking around in the garden, but you managed to find a place secluded enough for you and Jonathan. The ground was grassy and soft, and no one was walking by. Even if they did, they’d have to be purposefully looking for you two to see you both behind the trees and flowers.

“Lay down,” you ordered.

He grinned but did as you asked. “Here? Outside? You’re such a naughty girl.”

“Do you wanna wait until we get home?”

“No,” he said, a little too eagerly. “I want it now.” He sat up and tugged on your dress, running his hand up your leg. “You’re so soft,” he murmured, planting a few wet kisses on your thigh.

You sighed contently, enjoying the affection he was giving you. This moment felt like a haze, like the world was just slipping by and you were stuck in time, a feeling that made you wonder if this was a dream or not. The evening sunset and dark sky weren’t helping either. It all felt perfect, too perfect.

“Mmm.” Jonathan reached up and hooked his fingers into your underwear. You snapped out of your trance and swatted his hand away.

“Getting a little touchy there, aren’t you?”

He smirked, looking up at you through thick eyelashes. “Just tryna please you, darling.”

You thought for a moment, then decided that you would let him eat you out.

“Alright then. Please me, Dr. Crane.”

Jonathan’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment at the name, savoring the way it rolled so delicately off your tongue. He lifted up your dress and pulled down your panties. You kicked them off to the side and rested your dominant leg on his shoulder.

He pushed his finger against your folds, making a humming sound. “You’re so wet, darling.”

He leaned forward to suck on your clit roughly.

You lightly gasped at the pleasant sensation, bucking your hips into his face accidentally. You had meant to show more control, but how could you when Jonathan was so hungrily lapping? burying his face into your pussy like he was starved, passionately alternating between licking and sucking.

“Oh, Jonathan.”

His fingers, which had been gripping your hips, moved upward. As he continued to press his tongue against your clit his finger gently prodded your entrance, making sure that you were ready. He pushed his finger, curling it slightly.

You stifled your moans, not wanting a passerby to catch you two in the act, but you were finding it difficult. He kept thrusting his finger in and out of you, adding another one just a minute later.

You threw your head back, eyes shut. You held his head for balance and relaxed, letting yourself go into a peaceful bliss. But then you felt Jonathan’s teeth nip your bud, biting into it deliberately, and you yelped.

Gripping his hair, you forced him to look at you. His mouth and nose were covered in your wetness, and his lips were curving up into a delightful smile.

“What was that for?”

He shrugged. “Mmm, I couldn’t help it, Ma’am.”

Instead of reprimanding him, you took the selfish route and pushed his face in between your legs, grinding onto his lips until you felt that familiar sense of elated happiness. You came all over him, your brain shutting off, or rather, getting overloaded at that euphoric, all-consuming release.

You let go of Jonathan’s hair, but he didn’t pull away. He licked up your cum, making your nerves feel overstimulated, but after he was satisfied, he stopped.

“You like that?” he asked.

“F-fuck, yeah.”

You grabbed your panties and put them back on, much to Jonathan’s dismay.

“Where are you going?” He got up, using his sleeve to wipe off the remaining juices on his face. You could see a tent, his cock poking out from under his pants.

“Home, of course. And you’re coming with me.”

He shook his head vehemently, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his hard cock against your body. “Let’s finish this here. I can’t wait any longer. Don’t make me wait.”

“If you’re a good boy, you’ll wait.”

“I can’t,” he bitched desperately, hurriedly pulling down his pants. “I won’t. I’ve waited too fucking long.”

You grabbed his cock through the fabric, squeezing it tight in his hands.

His face contorted to one of pleasure and pain. “Huh!”

“You think you can just get what you want? After you’ve such a dick? Oh, ‘she was practically falling all over me’. ‘Such a pretty little dress wasted on such an ugly little thing.’”

“C’mon, I didn’t mean it! You looked so beautiful, I was just trying to make you mad. Be nice . . . Pleaseee?”

You gripped it tighter and he whimpered. “See how pathetic you get the moment I show an ounce of authority? How you start to beg? If I say something you do it. Do you understand?” He didn’t say anything, his lips still parted in pain. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, yes!” he choked out.

You let go. “Good boy. Now go call your driver and ask him to pick us up ‘round back. Unless you want everyone to see your erection?”

You gestured to the front of the manor, where through the bushes you could still see people enjoying the party.

“No, no.” He called his driver, trying his best to cover his erection by interlocking his hands in front of his waist. “You’re a cruel goddess.”

While you two waited for the driver, you peppered sweet kisses along Jonathan’s neck, but when he arrived, you stopped, making him groan at the loss.

Throughout the drive back to your place, you ghosted your fingers over Jonathan’s lap, occasionally resting your hand on his length. Once the driver dropped you both off, you wasted no time in pushing him to your room.

He took off his clothes as did you, his white cock springing up furiously. It was just the right size, bigger and longer than average, almost so that you worried about having to fit it inside you.

His figure was lanky, but still muscled, just the way you thought it would be. You placed your fingers on his chest, twisting his nipples. He shuddered and took off his glasses, placing them on the nightstand. You shoved him down on your bed and he immediately spread his legs, giving you perfect access.

“Want me to suck you off, Jon?”

“Yes!” he said impatiently. “Just do it.”

You spanked his balls with your hand, carefully watching the way they bounced ever so slightly.

“Nghh! I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Do it whenever you feel like.”

Despite his words, you could see him waiting anxiously for you to touch him.

You did so, kissing the tip of his head and running your tongue through the slit, tasting the salty precum he was leaking. He hissed when you took his entire length. “Ah.”

You gripped your thumb so you wouldn’t gag and took him in all the way, hollowing out your cheeks. He thrusted up, deepthroating you for a hot second before he placed his hips firmly against the bed, not wanting to do anything that would upset you.

“So—so warm,” he stuttered out. “Can’t wait to feel your cunt, if your mouth is this fucking good.”

You would have said something, but your mouth was filled, busy bobbing up and down. He squirmed and moaned, shamelessly being as loud as he could. You could feel yourself getting wet again, but you controlled your urges for the sake of Jonathan.

He brushed your hair out of the way, scrunching up his face. “M’gonna — hnghhh — m’gonna come!”

That was when you pulled off of him.

It took a moment for him to realize what you were doing, but when he did, he wasted no time in complaining.

“No,” he mewled, tearing up. “I’ve been such a good boy. Such a good boy.”

“Have you?” You giggled.

“I need you, I need this,” he moaned. “I’ve wanted you so bad — that’s why I came to you, that’s why I came to you and no one else. I didn’t even need the sponsors that bad, I just wanted to see you. I . . . I’m in agony,” he continued dramatically.

“That’s sad.”

More tears ran down his cheek at your nonchalant words. He sniffled. “Please, stop that and just make me come!”

“Okay. I think you deserve it.”

But instead of putting your mouth back on him, you sunk onto his cock, slowly at first, so your pussy could get used to the size.

“Oh, fuck,” Jonathan cursed, placing one of his hands on your waist, his fingers digging into your skin. His other hand went up to play with your breasts, cupping and kneading them like they were pieces of dough.

You started bouncing, a string of incoherent words and moans leaving your mouth. Jonathan sat up and wrapped you in his arms, kissing down your neck as you moved.

“You feel so good,” you murmured, clenching around his cock. “I s-should have done this sooner.”

“Should’ve,” Jonathan agreed. “But — ah — we can always do this more often, yeah?”

Too blissed out to respond with words, you just nodded your head, resting your head in the crook of his neck.

It didn’t take long for both of you to come after that. His hot load spurted inside of you and you came again, but this time on his cock.

He collapsed, exhausted from the sensations.

You slowly got up, letting out a little wince as you felt his length leave you. You cuddled up beside him, caressing his cheek, wrapping you both in the blanket. He looked a little tired, and you didn’t blame him. So were you.

“You set my soul alight,” he said softly. “You always have.”

You wanted to ask him how deep his feelings ran, if this was just sex, or if it was something more, but when he fell asleep on your breast, you dropped the idea. He trusted you enough to let his guard down around you, and for now, that was more than enough.

The rest of the night was spent holding each other in your arms as you slept. When you woke up in the morning, he was still there, snoring softly like he was a peaceful angel.

You pulled him closer to you. “I’m never letting you go,” you murmured darkly. “Never.”

#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

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butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 2 months ago

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Office Hours/Bells - Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader (Part 6)

Pairing: Professor!Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 10,676

Warnings: Obsessive behaviour, Professor x Student, manipulation, violence, kidnapping

Summary: Jonathan's been working so hard lately, with his work as Scarecrow, as a professor, and Y/n's protector.

A/N: holy fucking shit, has it been a hot minute, but here we are! Did not mean for this to take ages but it's me, so what can you really expect, lol. Here it is, hope you enjoy :) 💚

(Office Hours/Bells Masterlist)

(Part 5) - (Part 7)

Y/n could see the strain Jonathan was under lately. Between his responsibilities at Arkham, his role as a professor, and the added weight of keeping her safe, the stress was etched into every line of his face. He worked tirelessly, his days blending into nights without rest. Despite his guarded demeanour, Y/n noticed the exhaustion in his eyes and the tension in his movements.

The knowledge made her ache to find a way to ease his burden, even if it was something small. She couldn’t shake the feeling that he was carrying everything alone, bottling up his worries and pushing himself to the brink for her.

She had already baked him a batch of cookies, which he devoured immediately without much thought. To Jonathan, food was just fuel, even when loaded with chocolate and sugar. Y/n knew her gesture barely scratched the surface, the sweet distraction was a temporary relief at best. What she really wanted was to see him unwind, to take even a moment to breathe without the weight of his world bearing down on him. But there was only so much she could do.

Settling on the couch, she watched him across the room, his back hunched over his desk, his head down, completely absorbed in his work. She could see the movement of his arm as he scribbled, his notes likely filled with complicated chemical equations.

Chemistry was never Y/n’s strong suit, she was more of a biology girl herself, so looking at his notes meant nothing to her, so she couldn’t even help with that. Every now and then, he’d pause, lean back slightly, then dive right back into his notes.

Despite the shadows under his eyes, despite the furrow in his brow that spoke to his stress, Y/n couldn’t help but admire him. She found something endearing in the way he wore his lab coat, as if it were his armor. He insisted on keeping it on even here, in the quiet of their hideout. It clung to his frame, the stark white making him look both distinguished and a little odd.

It was moments like these, watching him so intensely focused and wholly himself, that reminded her why she cared for him so deeply.

Y/n stood up from her spot on the couch, moving quietly to the small dining table. She pulled a chair closer to Jonathan’s desk, positioning it beside his chair, facing him. Sitting down, she folded her leg up, resting her chin on her knee as she watched him in quiet admiration.

Jonathan gave her a brief glance, his eyes meeting hers for a split second over the rim of his glasses. "Yes, my dear?" he asked, his voice steady but softened with curiosity.

Y/n only smiled, her gaze steady. "Just watching," she replied simply.

He shook his head, before he returned to his work. "You’d be more entertained in front of the television," he said, pushing aside the page he’d just filled with scrawled notes and diagrams.

"I don’t think so.." Y/n said softly, her eyes lingering on him, tracing the determined set of his jaw, the way his hand moved with swift precision.

As she looked at him, she noticed a stray strand of hair that had fallen from his otherwise neat hair, sitting stubbornly over the edge of his glasses. She briefly considered suggesting a headband or hair clip but decided against it, knowing he'd likely scoff at the idea. Instead, she enjoyed the subtle imperfections, the hard look of concentration on his face that only seemed to amplify her attraction to him.

Sitting there, observing him up close, she felt a warmth, a mixture of admiration and something deeper. She could see the tension etched into his features, the weight of his responsibilities evident in the furrow of his brow. And yet, in his unrelenting focus, there was a certain charm, a captivating intensity she couldn't look away from.

Scooting her chair even closer, Y/n leaned into him, resting her chin gently on his shoulder. She felt his shoulder shift slightly under her, but he didn’t pull away. Slowly, she lifted her hand, letting her fingers trace softly along the back of his neck before she began running her nails gently through his hair at the nape.

A small, subtle shudder ran through him as her fingers traced delicate patterns on his scalp. His hand, steady moments before, faltered mid-scribble, leaving a faint, unintended mark on the page. She could sense his body caught between the usual tension he carried and a reluctant relaxation. The way his shoulders rose and fell, slightly stiff at first but slowly melting under her touch, told her he was trying to ignore how much he enjoyed her affection.

She continued, her fingers moving in slow, soothing circles, occasionally grazing the sensitive skin at his neck. She could feel his pulse quicken slightly beneath her touch. Smiling to herself, she knew he’d never admit how much he liked it, how much he needed this quiet, grounding moment.

After a beat, he let out a quiet sigh, barely a breath, but she caught it. She pressed a gentle kiss to his shoulder, whispering, “Why don’t you take a break.”

Jonathan stayed silent, but the slight tilt of his head, letting her fingers linger in his hair, was all the answer she needed.

Y/n straightened up, her fingers curling around the pencil as she gently pried it from Jonathan’s hand, setting it aside on the table. Without breaking eye contact, she clasped his hands in hers, giving him a gentle tug. "Come on, Jonathan," she coaxed, urging him to stand.

“Y/n, can’t we just stay here?” he protested, voice tinged with both reluctance and a trace of amusement as he resisted her pull. He didn't make it easy for her, keeping himself firmly rooted to the chair.

She shot him a determined look. “You’re supposed to relax, Jonathan, away from your work!” she insisted, her voice light but firm.

Jonathan’s eyes narrowed with that familiar glint of challenge. “Since when did you start calling the shots?” His voice dropped, carrying a low, teasing authority that dared her to press further.

Before Y/n could respond, Jonathan surprised her by pulling her back down, guiding her onto his lap as he settled back into his chair. She felt her cheeks flush as she found herself perched atop him, her legs straddling his and her hands instinctively bracing on his shoulders for balance.

He leaned back, one arm curling around her waist while his other hand came to rest on her thigh, a subtle smirk playing on his lips. “So, this is your idea of helping me relax?” he murmured, his gaze tracing her features, the playfulness in his eyes hinting at something deeper.

Y/n smiled, letting her hands rest on his shoulders as she matched his gaze. “If I have to hold you hostage on this chair to get you to unwind, I’m not above it,” she replied, her voice soft yet resolute. She let her fingers trail along his shoulders, pressing just enough to soothe the tension she knew was there.

Jonathan’s expression softened just a bit, his usual guarded nature slipping as he allowed himself a rare moment of vulnerability. The edges of his lips curved up almost imperceptibly. “Alright,” he conceded, his voice quiet and thoughtful, “I’ll allow it...for now.”

Y/n smiled softly, leaning in until her lips met his, brushing against him with a tender warmth. Jonathan didn’t hesitate, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her neck as he deepened the kiss, his touch both assured and surprisingly gentle. His other hand slid down to her thigh, his fingers tightening as he gave her a gentle squeeze, pulling her just a little closer.

She melted into him, feeling the tension in his shoulders finally begin to ease as he allowed himself to indulge in the moment. Their breaths mingled, and for just that instant, it was as though the worries and pressures that constantly weighed on him faded away, leaving only the quiet intensity of their connection.

As Y/n pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against his, she whispered, “You need to relax more often..” Her fingers traced along his jaw, grounding him as much as herself in the closeness they shared.

Jonathan let out a quiet sigh, his eyes meeting hers with a softened, appreciative gaze. "With you, I think I just might have to," he murmured, his thumb brushing gently over her thigh.

Jonathan’s fingers slipped beneath the waistband of Y/n’s pajama shorts, the tips brushing against her skin in a teasingly slow gesture. He tugged them down just slightly, his gaze locked on hers, reading her expression as if savoring every second. Y/n responded with a quiet, encouraging nod, lifting her hips to give him better access. She felt a shiver run through her as he took his time, sliding the fabric down her thighs with a mixture of care and intention.

With each inch he revealed, his touch seemed to grow more deliberate, as if he wanted to memorize every curve and detail. Her breath caught in her throat as he trailed his hands down her legs, letting her shorts and underwear pool at her knees before pulling her closer to him to help slide them off.

Jonathan’s eyes traveled back up, lingering on her with a look that was both adoring and possessive. She felt his hand glide back up along her thigh, gentle but firm, as he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her jaw.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and almost reverent, sending a spark through her. Y/n could feel his warmth, his focus entirely on her, as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world.

Jonathan’s long fingers drifted between her thighs, exploring with a slow, deliberate touch. His fingertips traced along her warmth, feeling the slickness gathering there as he gently circled her entrance, letting her arousal coat his fingers.

Y/n’s breath hitched at the touch, a shiver rippling up her spine as he teased her, drawing soft, unsteady gasps from her lips. Each sound seemed to spur him on, the tension between them building with every movement.

Listening to her quickening breaths, Jonathan slipped a finger inside her, his touch firm yet gentle. Y/n's head fell back, a moan escaping her as her body responded instinctively, arching into him.

His lips found her neck, pressing soft, lingering kisses against her skin, before he began to suckle, drawing a flush of warmth to the surface. She felt his hot breath against her pulse, his mouth exploring slowly as his finger moved within her, expertly building her pleasure with unhurried intensity.

Another finger joined the first, stretching and filling her, while his thumb brushed her clit in gentle, tantalizing circles. The combination sent waves of pleasure radiating through her, her body clinging to his touch as her gasps grew louder.

His lips traveled up to her ear, his voice a low, tantalizing murmur, “You’re absolutely intoxicating,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin, his movements unrelenting yet tender, holding her in a rhythm that pulled her deeper into his embrace.

Jonathan slowly withdrew his fingers, leaving Y/n’s body with an aching emptiness that made her release a soft, involuntary sigh. Her chest rose and fell with need, her gaze heavy-lidded and fixed on him. A faint smirk tugged at his lips as he took in her reaction, clearly savoring the effect he had on her.

"So impatient," he murmured, a hint of amusement lacing his words.

His eyes glinted with something darker as he deftly unfastened his trousers. His fingers moved with unhurried precision, peeling away the fabric as he held her gaze, every motion a promise of what was to come.

Y/n’s breath quickened as he positioned himself, his intense gaze holding hers captive. He took his time, savoring the anticipation that hung thick between them, letting her feel every second of the build-up. She could feel her heart pounding, each beat echoing in her ears as her body pulsed with anticipation. Jonathan's hand trailed up her thigh, steadying her, his touch both commanding and tender as he prepared to close the space between them, pulling her closer with a deep, simmering intent.

Jonathan released his member from his pants, his cock pressing hot and firm as he aligned himself at her entrance. His hands gripped her hips with a possessive hold as he held her steady, drawing her closer with each subtle shift. The heat between them intensified, a magnetic pull, as he hovered at her entrance, making her feel every inch of the anticipation.

He paused for a brief moment, eyes locked with hers, the air thick with tension. With a soft exhale, Jonathan leaned in, brushing his lips over her collarbone as he pushed in, allowing her to adjust, savoring the way her body responded to him. The closeness, the weight of him against her, filled every nerve in Y/n’s body with electricity, sending a delicious shiver up her spine as they connected fully, leaving no distance between them.

As Y/n lowered herself onto him, a contented hum escaped her lips, sending a shiver through Jonathan. His hands instinctively gripped her hips, fingers pressing into her skin as he steadied her, his breath hitching at the warmth enveloping him. Their eyes met, and for a moment, time felt suspended in the quiet intensity of their gaze.

With her knees settled on either side of him, Y/n began to move, slowly at first, a gentle rhythm that built as she grew more comfortable, feeling his gaze follow every rise and fall. Her movements became more confident, her pace quickening, each shift causing a delicious friction that sent waves of heat through both of them. The sound of their shared breaths filled the room, mingling with soft gasps and murmurs, creating a symphony of intimacy and connection.

Jonathan’s hands slid up her waist, guiding her movements as his grip tightened in response to the pleasure sparking between them. He traced a line up her back, his fingers brushing over her skin, leaving a trail of warmth. Y/n tilted her head back, eyes closed as she lost herself in the sensations, feeling completely wrapped up in him, her own hands moving to rest against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath her palms.

Each motion, each shared look and soft touch, brought them closer, a shared rhythm and unspoken language that spoke of desire, trust, and a deep, unbreakable connection between them.

As much as Jonathan relished the view of Y/n moving above him, his desire to take control grew overwhelming. With a sudden, determined motion, he gripped her waist firmly, hoisting her up and setting her down on the edge of his workbench. Y/n let out a surprised squeal, her hands instinctively bracing against the table’s cool surface as her legs wrapped around him to steady herself.

Never pulling out, Jonathan pressed closer, eyes dark with intent as he leaned forward, his lips hovering near her ear. "Can’t have you calling all the shots now, can I?" he murmured, his voice a low, husky growl.

Without missing a beat, he drove into her, the intensity of his thrusts sending waves of pleasure through her. Her back arched against the hard surface, fingers gripping the edge of the workbench as she let out a breathy moan, her body meeting his movements with fervor. Each thrust was more commanding than the last, a testament to his need to seize control, to make her feel everything he wanted her to.

Jonathan’s hands traveled up her sides, possessive yet tender, anchoring her as he set a steady, relentless rhythm that echoed the pounding of their hearts. With each stroke, he was drawing her deeper into his world, ensuring that in this moment, she was entirely his, until she could think of nothing else but the feeling of him.

Jonathan's pace grew steadily more insistent, his breaths mingling with hers as the intensity of their movements built between them. His hands slid from her sides up to her back, pulling her flush against him, eliminating any remaining space as he wrapped her in his hold. The workbench creaked beneath them, but neither paid it any mind, too wrapped up in the warmth and fervor of each other.

Y/n's head fell back, her hands gripping his shoulders as he continued, each movement sending waves of heat coursing through her. She clung to him, her moans breaking with each gasp as he held her close, his focus unwavering. Jonathan’s gaze was sharp, studying every expression that crossed her face as if committing them to memory.

Leaning in, his lips brushed over her collarbone, trailing up her neck and finally finding the corner of her mouth, catching her moans before they even had a chance to fill the air.

“You’re all mine,” he murmured, the words spilling out in a possessive whisper, his voice rough with desire.

With one hand still pressed firmly to her back, the other moved down to grip her thigh, pulling her leg higher around his waist, allowing him to sink deeper with each thrust.

The sensation sent a shiver through her, and her nails dug into his shoulders, grounding herself in the intensity of it all. She felt her heart pounding wildly, matching the fervent rhythm he’d set, a rhythm that threatened to consume them both.

“Jonathan…” she managed to breathe out, her voice almost a plea.

His only answer was a heated kiss, claiming her mouth with a ferocity that left her dizzy, until they were nothing but a tangle of need and warmth, utterly lost in each other.

Jonathan's thrusts became erratic, each one more desperate than the last, as he held Y/n against him with an unyielding grip. The heat between them had built to an almost unbearable level, their bodies moving in perfect sync as they neared the edge together.

Y/n’s breath hitched, her nails dragging down his back as waves of pleasure began to surge through her. “Jonathan…I’m close,” she whispered shakily, her voice a mixture of desperation and ecstasy.

Her words seemed to drive him further, his pace quickening as he buried his face in her neck, his warm breath fanning against her skin. “Come for me,” he rasped, his voice low and commanding, sending a shiver down her spine.

With one final, deep thrust, Y/n cried out, her body tensing and trembling against his as she tipped over the edge. Pleasure surged through her in waves, her vision momentarily blurring as the world around her melted away.

Jonathan wasn’t far behind. The feel of her tightening around him, the sound of her cries, and the way her body shook in his arms were enough to send him spiraling. He groaned against her neck, his grip on her tightening as he found his release, his body shuddering in unison with hers.

They remained locked together for a moment, their heavy breaths mingling as they clung to each other. Jonathan finally lifted his head, his forehead resting against hers, his expression softened and sated. A rare, almost tender smile crossed his lips as he brushed a strand of hair from her damp face.

Y/n laughed breathlessly, leaning into his touch. “Feeling better, Doctor.”

“Much, my dear, thank you,” he said, his voice low and affectionate, a stark contrast to the usual sharpness in his tone.

Y/n laughed breathlessly, leaning into his touch. “I could say the same about you, Doctor.”

Jonathan huffed softly, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips before pulling her closer, savoring the quiet aftermath of their shared intensity.

Jonathan sighed, resting his forehead against Y/n’s for a moment longer before straightening up, the softness in his gaze quickly replaced by his usual sharp focus.

“As much as I’d like to keep you here all night, I have to get back to work,” he murmured firmly.

Y/n groaned dramatically, her head falling back as she rolled her eyes. “Seriously? You just took my ability to walk, and now you’re ditching me for a stack of papers?”

Jonathan rolled his eyes, his hands gently sliding down her sides as he pulled away. “Science waits for no one, my dear. Not even you.”

“Ugh,” Y/n huffed, crossing her arms as she sat on the edge of the workbench. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“And you’re distracting,” Jonathan replied, his tone hardly teasing as he adjusted his trousers and fixed his shirt.

He leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before stepping back. “Go clean up and get some rest. I’ll join you when I can.”

Y/n watched him for a moment, her lips pursed in frustration. She knew he was right, this was just who Jonathan was. Still, it didn’t make it any less annoying. “Fine,” she grumbled, sliding off the workbench and retrieving her clothes. “But if you don’t come to bed at a reasonable hour, I’ll…be pissed.”

“Noted,” Jonathan said, already turning back to his notes.

Y/n headed to the bathroom, muttering under her breath about mad scientists and their lack of priorities. She cleaned herself up quickly, her cheeks still warm from their earlier passion, before slipping into a comfortable set of pajamas.

As she climbed into bed, the room felt oddly quiet without Jonathan by her side. She turned onto her side, clutching a pillow and staring at the empty space next to her. Despite her frustration, she couldn’t help but smile softly, thinking about how stubborn he could be when it came to his work.

“Goodnight, you workaholic!” she yelled out to him below before closing her eyes, letting sleep slowly take her as the faint scratching of Jonathan’s pen filled the distant background.

Y/n stirred awake, her face buried in the soft pillow that still held Jonathan's faint scent. Stretching, she slowly opened her eyes, only to freeze in pleasant surprise.

There he was. Jonathan Crane, the workaholic, the man who rarely allowed himself the luxury of sleep, lying peacefully beside her. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, his face soft and serene in the dim morning light. Y/n couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him asleep, it felt like an eternity ago.

A small, content smile crept onto her lips. She resisted the urge to reach out and brush the stray strands of hair from his forehead, afraid to disturb this rare, quiet moment. He looked so different like this, unguarded and almost boyish. For a brief second, Y/n entertained the idea of staying in bed just to admire him a little longer.

But curiosity got the better of her.

Sliding out from under the covers as quietly as she could, Y/n tiptoed out of the bedroom. Her bare feet padded down the stairs, her destination clear in her mind. Jonathan's work desk.

The same desk where he'd been tirelessly scribbling the night before.

Once she reached it, she settled into the chair and began sorting through the scattered pages. Most of it was the usual chemistry formulas and toxin prototypes. She frowned at one of the pages labeled FT - Variant 6, likely meaning fear toxin. The detailed notes described a formula designed to trigger hallucinations of one’s deepest fears in mere seconds.

"Ugh, of course," Y/n muttered to herself, shaking her head. She loved Jonathan, but his obsession with his fear toxins was something she didn’t care for. She quickly shuffled the page aside, uninterested in his chemical warfare.

But then she spotted something different.

A map.

Leaning closer, her eyes widened as she took in the carefully marked routes and notes scrawled in Jonathan’s neat handwriting. The title at the top read Waylon’s Extraction Plan.

Her heart skipped a beat.

Jonathan had a plan to help Killer Croc escape Arkham.

Excitement bubbled up in her chest as she scanned the page. The routes were detailed, accounting for guard rotations, security blind spots, and emergency backups. It was genius, of course it was.

“He’s really going to do it,” Y/n whispered, grinning.

She could already imagine the chaos this plan would bring, the ripple effects of freeing someone like Waylon Jones. But more than that, the thought of seeing Killer Croc out of that dreadful institution made her heart race. Jonathan was actually going to help him, and she couldn’t wait to see it happen.

Folding the page carefully, Y/n placed it back where she found it, not wanting to disturb anything. Her excitement burned brightly in her chest as she quietly crept back upstairs. Jonathan was still sound asleep, and for once, Y/n felt truly content with his plans.

Settling into bed beside him again, she smiled to herself. Atleast he listened to me.

The office was quiet except for the soft scratching of Jonathan’s pen against paper and the occasional rustle of Y/n shifting in her chair. The room smelled faintly of old books and leather, remnants of Jonathan’s ever-present work.

Y/n lounged comfortably in one of the worn armchairs near the corner, her legs draped over the armrest. She absentmindedly flicked through a book she had picked up from the coffee table, though her eyes barely registered the words. Her attention kept wandering back to Jonathan, hunched over his desk with his usual intensity.

The overhead light cast a warm glow over the office, illuminating the stacks of papers, and open books. Even in his university office, he carried on doing her devious work.

“You really need to get a cleaner in here,” Y/n teased, her voice cutting through the silence.

She gestured to the clutter around the room. “One wrong move and this whole place will come down like a house of cards.”

Jonathan didn’t look up. “And risk someone tampering with my research? Hardly.”

Y/n snorted, tossing the magazine onto the coffee table. “Your research. You mean your elaborate fear toxins and terrifying lesson plans?”

“Precisely,” he quipped, his tone dry.

Pushing herself upright, Y/n swung her legs over the chair and propped her chin on her hand, watching him work. His concentration was unwavering, his pen gliding across the page with precision. She admired how dedicated he was, even if his obsession with his work sometimes made her want to shake him.

“Do you ever take a break, Dr. Crane?” she asked, her voice light but laced with genuine curiosity.

He finally paused, setting his pen down and turning in his chair to face her. “I take breaks,” he replied, his tone matter-of-fact.

Y/n arched an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Oh? Name one.”

Jonathan leaned back slightly, his gaze narrowing thoughtfully. “Last month. The gala. We went together.”

“That doesn’t count,” Y/n said with a laugh. “You spent half the night networking and the other half analyzing the psychological profiles of the guests.”

Jonathan shrugged, “It was entertaining.”

“For you,” Y/n shot back, shaking her head.

Jonathan turned back to his work. Y/n leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. “You know, I wouldn’t complain if you spent just one afternoon not plotting someone’s nightmare or grading boring papers.”

“Boring papers keep the university happy. And plotting nightmares…” He trailed off, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. “Well, that keeps me happy.”

Y/n rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but smile. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Of course,” he replied smoothly, returning to his notes.

Y/n leaned back in her chair again, watching him quietly for a moment. Despite his stubbornness, she couldn’t help but admire him still, the precision in his work, the way his mind was always racing. Even if she’d never understand his obsession with fear toxins, she respected the brilliance behind it.

Eventually, the comfortable silence returned, and Y/n resumed her lounging, content to simply share the space with him while he worked.

Y/n stretched her arms above her head, glancing at the clock on Jonathan’s desk. The minutes seemed to crawl by in his office, especially during his supposed office hours. She tilted her head, smirking as she observed the completely empty space around them, aside from the two of them, of course.

“Jonathan,” she began, breaking the silence, “why do you even bother having three-hour-long office hours when literally no one ever shows up?”

Jonathan didn’t even look up from his papers, his pen continuing its steady rhythm. “Perhaps, one day, one of those idiots will come to their senses and realize I’m an important source of knowledge.”

Y/n snorted, leaning back in her chair. “Oh, please. They’re more likely to go to a tutor’s office hours before coming to you.”

Jonathan paused, finally glancing up with an arched brow. “And why is that?”

“Because,” Y/n said with a teasing grin, “most students prefer their help served with a side of approachability, as I’ve said before. You, on the other hand…do I need to finish that sentence?”

Jonathan cocked and eyebrow. “Watch it, girl.”

Y/n shrugged, unbothered. “Uh huh..”

Jonathan shook his head, turning back to his work with an amused huff, while Y/n chuckled to herself, feeling victorious.

"Remember," Jonathan started, his tone measured as his pen paused mid-stroke on the paper, "I helped you when you came to me the first time."

"Yeah," Y/n replied, her voice laced with dry humor as she lounged across the small couch in his office, "then you drugged me and kidnapped me. Truly, a tale of chivalry."

Jonathan's hand stilled completely, his sharp blue eyes flicking toward her. "That’s how you choose to frame it?"

"Well, it’s not exactly the stuff of fairy tales, is it?" Y/n shot back.

It wasn’t a topic that came up often between them, mostly because neither of them really knew how to approach it. She wasn’t exactly bitter about it, she’d made her peace with the bizarre start to their unconventional relationship. Jonathan, for his part, wasn’t one to apologize for the choices he made, but he had stopped attempting to justify his methods to her long ago.

He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers as he watched her. "You’re still here, aren’t you?"

"Yeah, yeah," she waved a hand dismissively, "I’m not holding a grudge. Just pointing out how helpful you were." Her tone was light, but her eyes glimmered with playful challenge.

Jonathan’s lips curved into a sly smile. "If I recall, you weren’t particularly hard to convince to stay."

"Maybe I just didn’t want to risk getting drugged again," Y/n quipped, sitting up straighter.

He let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. "You’ve got a way of making everything sound so dramatic."

"And you’ve got a way of making everything actually dramatic," she countered.

Jonathan hummed thoughtfully, returning his gaze to the paper in front of him. "Well, you’re still alive, and arguably better off. I’d say my methods worked."

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t entirely suppress her grin. "Sure, let’s go with that. Real knight in shining armor vibes, Jonathan."

"I prefer 'strategic pragmatist,’" he corrected smoothly, his tone dripping with mock seriousness.

Y/n laughed, leaning back into the couch. "Whatever you say, Professor."

Y/n stood and stretched, the faint creak of the chair beneath her. Jonathan glanced up from his papers, his brow furrowing slightly. "Where are you going?"

"Relax, Professor Crane," Y/n said teasingly. "Just grabbing an energy drink from the vending machine."

Jonathan's frown deepened. "Those things are terrible for you.”

She paused, throwing him a mischievous look over her shoulder. "So are you, and yet here we are."

His lips twitched with the ghost of a smirk, but he said nothing more as Y/n slipped out of the office.

The hallway was quiet, the hum of fluorescent lights filling the empty space as Y/n approached the vending machine. Fishing a few coins from her pocket, she punched in the numbers for her go-to drink. The machine whirred, and she waited for the can to clatter into the deposit tray.

As she stood there, a prickling sensation crept up her spine, the unmistakable feeling of being watched. Her eyes flicked up cautiously, scanning the corridor.

Her gaze landed on a figure leaning against the wall further down the hall, almost in the shadows. They were too far to make out details, but they were clearly looking in her direction, or at least it seemed that way. Y/n stiffened but quickly shook herself.

This is a university, Y/n, she thought firmly. It’s broad daylight, and you're literally in Jonathan's building. Don’t be ridiculous.

Still, she couldn’t entirely shake the unease, but she refused to let it get the better of her. She grabbed her drink from the machine with a quick motion and turned to head back to Jonathan’s office.

As she walked, she tried to play it cool, not glancing back even though every nerve in her body urged her to. "You’re not some damsel in distress," she muttered under her breath.

By the time she pushed open the door to his office, her expression was neutral, maybe even a little brighter than before.

Jonathan looked up from his work, giving her a brief once-over. "You were gone long enough to consider your life choices."

"Yeah, yeah," Y/n replied breezily, plopping back onto the chair and cracking open the drink. She took a sip, forcing herself to relax as if nothing had happened.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at her unusually chipper demeanor but said nothing, returning to his notes. Meanwhile, Y/n kept her face calm and her thoughts buried, determined not to let her earlier discomfort show.

The clock on Jonathan’s office wall ticked softly in the quiet room, its hands marking the end of office hours two hours ago. Despite this, Y/n lingered, lounging on the worn couch with her legs stretched out, scrolling absentmindedly on her phone. Jonathan sat at his desk, hunched over his computer, the glow of the screen illuminating the sharp lines of his face.

When Jonathan finally pushed back his chair and stood, Y/n perked up.

“Done?” she asked, hopping up and stretching, a playful smile on her lips.

“Half,” Jonathan muttered, his tone laced with exhaustion.

Y/n’s smile softened as she took in his tired features. It had been a grueling day for him, office hours, meetings, endless paperwork, and he’d have to do it all again tomorrow. She admired his resilience but wished he didn’t push himself so hard.

The two exited his office, their footsteps echoing down the empty halls of the university. The campus was eerily quiet, with most lectures having ended hours ago. Only a few stragglers remained, students huddled in study groups or waiting for late tutorials.

As they approached the staff carpark, Y/n noticed the distinct lack of working cameras in the area, something Jonathan had assured her was an advantage for them. They didn’t have to worry about being seen together, which was always a concern given his position.

Jonathan unlocked the car, and they slid into their seats. Just as Y/n was buckling her seatbelt, Jonathan cused loudly.

“What’s wrong?” Y/n asked, glancing at him.

“I left a file in my office,” he said, his voice tense with frustration.

“Do you need it now?” she asked, tilting her head.

“Yes,” he growled, clearly annoyed with himself.

“Alright, I’ll wait here,” Y/n said with a shrug, leaning back in her seat.

Jonathan hesitated, his furrowed brows and thinly pressed lips betraying his irritation. He let out another low curse before slamming the car door shut and striding back toward the building. Y/n watched him go, the tails of his coat fluttering behind him.

Left alone, she sighed and shifted in her seat, glancing around the dimly lit carpark. The quietness of the campus was unsettling, but she brushed it off, chalking it up to the late hour.

Y/n drummed her fingers idly against her lap, her gaze drifting out the car window. There wasn’t much to look at outside, but there wasn’t much else to focus on. She sighed, shifting in her seat.

Her phone buzzed suddenly in her pocket, pulling her from her thoughts. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

It was a message from Jonathan, asking for a hand back in his office.

Y/n let out a small huff, shaking her head with an amused smile. “Bloody idiot,” she muttered under her breath.

She had no idea what he could possibly need help with, but knowing him, it was likely something trivial that he didn’t want to admit struggling with.

Sliding out of the car, she locked it with the key Jonathan had left her and started toward the university building. The faint sound of her boots against the pavement was the only noise cutting through the stillness of the night.

Halfway to the entrance, her phone buzzed again, this time with a call. Glancing at the screen, she frowned slightly, recognizing the number immediately.

Pressing the answer button, she brought the phone to her ear. “Haven’t heard from you in a while, Eddie,” she greeted casually, her tone light despite the lateness of the hour.

“Y/n,” Edward’s voice was sharp and urgent on the other end, cutting through the calm she’d been trying to maintain. “Get back in the car. Now.”

Y/n slowed her steps, her brows furrowing. “What are you talking about?” she asked, confusion lacing her tone. How did Edward even know where she was?

“That wasn’t Jonathan,” he interrupted firmly, his voice dropping into something darker, more desperate.

Her heart stopped, the blood in her veins turning ice cold.

“What do you mean it wasn’t-”

“Go!” Edward barked, his urgency snapping her out of her shock.

Y/n spun on her heel, panic surging through her veins as she darted back toward the car. She barely made it a few steps before colliding with a man blocking her path. A startled noise escaped her lips as she stumbled back, turning to flee in the opposite direction, only to find herself face-to-face with another man.

Her breath hitched, the air caught in her throat as dread settled like a weight in her chest. Edward’s voice was still shouting frantically through the phone, but she couldn’t focus on his words. Her hands trembled as she fumbled in her pocket, her only lifeline flashing through her mind.

Jonathan’s canister.

Without hesitation, Y/n whipped it out, her fingers finding the trigger as she aimed it at the men. A sharp hiss filled the air as the fear gas spewed forth, engulfing their faces. Both men recoiled instantly, their screams tearing through the night as they clawed at their eyes, their terror palpable.

For a fleeting moment, Y/n thought she had a chance. Her heart surged with hope as she darted toward freedom, only to halt abruptly when more figures emerged from the shadows.

These men were different. Each wore a crude, almost comical penguin mask, but there was nothing funny about the way they moved with precision, their intentions clear.

“Shit,” Y/n whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.

Desperately, she sprayed the gas at the new arrivals, but it had little effect. Their masks, though laughable, must have been equipped with filters, rendering her weapon useless.

“Fuck!”

Before she could think of another escape, rough hands grabbed her arms, yanking the canister from her grasp.

She struggled against their grip, her mind racing for a plan, but the odds were against her. The last thing she saw before she was dragged into the shadows was the faint glint of the moonlight on the cracked pavement.

She was so fucked.

Y/n thrashed desperately in their iron grip, but the men were well-prepared. One of them swiftly gagged her, silencing her muffled cries, while another pulled a bag over her head. She kicked and squirmed, her heart racing, but they bound her hands and feet with practiced efficiency, rendering her helpless.

These guys were no amateurs.

Tears streamed down her face, dampening the inside of the suffocating bag as fear and frustration welled up within her. Her captors carried her like she weighed nothing, their movements calculated and cold.

She barely registered the thud of her body being thrown into the back of a vehicle, the cold metal floor jarring against her as the van’s doors slammed shut. The engine roared to life, and she felt the lurch as it sped out of the car park, jostling her roughly with each turn.

Her mind raced with a torrent of emotions, panic, anger, helplessness.

She was so utterly, completely fucked.

All she could think about was Jonathan.

Jonathan, where are you?

She had no sense of time. The entire ride was a blur of muffled sobs, desperate thrashing, and exhaustion. At some point, Y/n’s hysterical episode stop, leaving her utterly drained. By the time the van screeched to a halt, she was limp, lying motionless in the back like a discarded doll.

The van doors groaned open, and cold air rushed in, sending a chill over her skin. She felt rough hands grabbing her, pulling her out like luggage. Her feet barely skimmed the ground as she was dragged through what sounded like a large, echoing space. She tried to steady her breathing, but panic buzzed just beneath the surface.

A hard wooden chair met her body, and she winced as they tied her to it, ropes biting into her wrists and ankles. The restraints were unforgiving, chafing against her skin.

That’s when she heard it, the sharp click of a door opening and the staccato rhythm of hurried footsteps.

“Ahh, has our guest arrived?” a voice asked, oily and nasally, dripping with sophistication.

It wasn’t a voice she recognized.

The footsteps stopped abruptly. “Did you bag her like some common animal?” the voice continued, now laced with surprise and fury.

“Well…uh, Two-Face said…” one of the goons stammered, clearly struggling to justify himself.

“Remove it!” the voice barked, sharp and commanding, like a blade cutting through tension.

The bag was yanked off her head, and Y/n blinked rapidly as the room’s light hit her face. Her vision adjusted slowly, revealing her surroundings. The room was dim but lavishly adorned with dark wood, gold accents, and antique furnishings. And then she saw him.

Short and stout, the man before her exuded an air of theatrical menace. He wore a fine velvety suit, a monocle glinting over one eye, and a top hat perched precariously on his balding head. His nose was sharp and beak-like, his features grotesque yet oddly regal.

The Penguin.

“Oh, my dear, my sincerest apologies!” he said, waddling closer with surprising grace for his stature. His voice, though polite, carried a slight sneer, the words drawn out like he was savoring them. “I didn’t think my men would treat you so…uncivily.”

Y/n stared, her heart hammering as the reality of her situation fully sank in.

As he approached, his gaze flickered to the ropes binding her to the chair and the angry red marks left on her wrists. His monocle gleamed as he turned sharply toward the goon nearest her.

“You don’t have to tie her wrists until they’re purple!” he snapped, his voice rising with disgust. “I run a criminal empire, not a circus!”

The goon muttered a weak apology, fumbling to adjust the restraints, but Penguin swatted him away. “Oh, enough! I’ll do it myself.”

He bent down, his stubby fingers surprisingly nimble as he loosened the ropes around her wrists just enough to relieve the pressure. “There we are, my dear,” he cooed, his tone softening. “Do forgive my men. They’re not the brightest of creatures, but they do serve their purpose.”

Y/n stayed silent, her throat too tight to speak, her mind racing with questions and fear.

Penguin straightened up, his small eyes gleaming with curiosity and something darker. “Now, my dear, let’s have a little chat. I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here, and I assure you, the reasons are…fascinating.”

Before the Penguin could continue, the door slammed open, hitting the wall with a force that made Y/n flinch. The air in the room grew heavy, the once-faint tension now suffocating. The man who entered was a stark contrast to the theatrical Penguin.

His half-disfigured face caught the dim light, grotesque and menacing, while his dual-colored suit added an almost surreal air of menace. There was no mistaking him, this was Two-Face, the infamous criminal she’d only heard about in whispers.

The Penguin straightened, his hands finding his hips in a display of frustration. “Did you order the men to act so harshly toward the poor girl?” he demanded, his tone accusing but oddly casual.

Two-Face’s gravelly voice cut through the room like a blade. “I told them to do what needed to be done,” he said, each word weighted with cold authority.

Y/n felt a shiver race up her spine. The room seemed to shrink under the intensity of his presence, her pulse quickening as his mismatched gaze scanned the space, sharp and calculating.

Looking around, his anger flared further, his scowl deepening. “Where’s the rest of my men?” he barked, his voice echoing against the walls.

One of the goons in a cheap penguin mask stepped forward, his voice shaky as he spoke. “The girl…she gassed them.”

“What!?” Two-Face snarled, his glare snapping to Y/n like a predator locking onto prey.

Y/n shrank in her seat, her heart pounding like a drum. She could feel the weight of his fury pressing down on her, but before he could say more, the Penguin interjected with a dismissive wave.

“Oh, don’t go blaming the girl,” Penguin said, his tone teetering on the edge of amusement and condescension.

“Maybe if your men were better prepared, they would’ve thought to wear proper masks when going after Scarecrow’s girl.” His monocle glinted as he turned to glare at Two-Face. “Frankly, the fault lies squarely on your shoulders, my dear Harvey.”

Two-Face’s fist clenched at his side, his jaw tightening. “Careful, Cobblepot,” he growled, his tone dripping with warning.

Penguin smirked, unbothered by the larger man’s threatening presence. “Oh, relax, Dent. No need to bicker in front of our guest.”

He gestured toward Y/n with a flourish. “We wouldn’t want her to think we’re uncivilized, would we?”

Y/n sat silently, her wide eyes darting between the two men. Despite her fear, a small, dark thought crept into her mind: Some team they are.

Their bickering continued, the dynamic between them oddly dysfunctional for two partners in crime. But while they were distracted, Y/n’s mind raced, desperately trying to formulate a plan. If these two kept their focus on each other for long enough, maybe, just maybe, she could find a way out of this mess.

Two-Face’s patience had clearly run its course. With a growl of frustration, he snatched a paperweight from a nearby desk and hurled it across the room, the heavy object smashing against the wall.

“Keep that beak of yours shut, Penguin!” he snapped, his voice echoing with raw anger. “You don’t tell her a damn thing. We wait. That’s it.” Without another word, he stormed out of the room, his uneven footsteps fading into the distance.

The Penguin, unshaken by the display, merely sighed and shook his head in exasperation. He turned back to Y/n with an apologetic smile. “Ah, my dear, forgive the dramatics. Harvey’s never been one for people skills, as you can plainly see.”

Y/n stared at him, unsure how to respond. The bizarre mix of theatrics and danger left her frozen, her mind racing to process the surreal situation she was trapped in.

The Penguin pulled up his sleeve and glanced at his gold watch, the gesture overly grandiose. “Oh, heavens, look at the time! You must be hungry. I can’t have my guest starving, now can I?” He clapped his hands twice, the sound sharp and commanding, before waddling off to bark orders at the goons nearby.

In mere minutes, the men scrambled to bring in a small table and a chair. The Penguin settled himself across from Y/n with surprising grace for his stocky frame.

“Now, my dear,” he began, adjusting his monocle and flashing her a thin smile, “I do hope you understand, this is nothing personal. Well…” He tilted his head with mock consideration. “Actually, it is, but you’re simply collateral in a much larger game. No hard feelings, I trust?”

Y/n could only glare at him. Her hands were still bound, her mouth still gagged, leaving her no way to express the flood of emotions, fear, anger, and frustration, that roiled within her.

The Penguin’s smile faltered as he noticed her predicament. “Ah, how terribly rude of me!” He gestured dramatically at his men. “Untie her hands, you idiots. And remove that gag!”

The goons hurried to obey, loosening the ropes around her wrists and pulling the gag away. Y/n gasped as the pressure finally lifted, her jaw aching from being forced shut for so long. She wiped at her face, grimacing at the uncomfortable dampness left behind by the gag.

She flexed her sore wrists, trying to rub some feeling back into them, but the ropes around her ankles remained firmly in place. Her newfound freedom didn’t amount to much, but it was enough to give her a sliver of hope.

The Penguin, meanwhile, leaned back in his chair, observing her with an almost paternal air. “There now, isn’t that better? You must forgive the earlier treatment. Some of my men are, shall we say, lacking in refinement. But let’s not dwell on unpleasantness.”

He motioned to a plate of food that one of his men had placed on the table. “Eat, my dear. You’ll need your strength. It’s going to be quite an eventful evening.”

Y/n’s stomach churned as she stared at the plate. She didn’t trust any of it, and she certainly didn’t trust him. But for now, she had to play along, biding her time and praying that Jonathan would come for her before it was too late.

Y/n reluctantly picked at the food, her trembling hands giving away the panic still coursing through her. The Penguin watched her with an almost fatherly patience, resting his chin on his intertwined fingers, his monocle gleaming in the dim light.

"Splended," he said softly, his tone unnervingly warm. "I knew you’d see reason. Cooperation makes this all so much easier, don’t you agree?"

She didn’t respond, her eyes darting to the door every so often. The sound of footsteps outside made her flinch, but no one entered. Jonathan had to know she was missing. Either if Edward called him or he returned to the empty car park.

The Penguin, ever observant, noticed her gaze. “Waiting for your knight in tattered armor, are you?” he said with a chuckle, leaning back in his chair. “I hate to break it to you, but Scarecrow doesn’t exactly have the…resources to pull off a daring rescue.”

Y/n shot him a glare, her fists clenching on the table.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, dear. I’m simply stating the facts. Harvey and I, well, we’re leagues ahead of that mad doctor. This is chess, not checkers. You’re just a very important piece we needed to…” He smirked, choosing his words with care. “Motivate him.”

Y/n’s stomach dropped. She already knew she was bait, but hearing it still pissed her off.

“You’re wasting your time,” she said, her voice hoarse but firm. “Jonathan won’t be dumb enough to come for me.”

The Penguin’s grin widened. “Oh, my dear, don’t sell yourself short. A man like Crane? Brilliant but unhinged? He’d burn Gotham to the ground for someone he cares about. And trust me, we’re counting on it.”

The door creaked open, and Y/n stiffened as Two-Face reentered the room, flipping a coin in his off hand. His mismatched eyes landed on her, and a cruel smile twisted his scarred features.

“Still playing the gentleman, are we, Cobblepot?” he sneered. “You’re too soft on her.”

The Penguin waved him off. “There’s no harm in a little civility, Harvey. She’s our guest, after all.”

“Guest?” Two-Face barked out a bitter laugh. “She’s leverage. Nothing more.”

Y/n glared at him, her fear momentarily eclipsed by defiance. “You think Jonathan’s going to walk into whatever trap you’ve set? You don’t know him.”

Two-Face glared towards the Penguin, “I told you to keep your mouth shut!” but there was little he could do now.

Two-Face leaned in closer, his good side almost soft, his scarred side a terrifying reminder of his instability. “Oh, he’ll come,” he growled. “Men like Crane can’t resist their obsessions. And you, sweetheart, are the perfect little weak spot.”

Y/n’s resolve wavered, but she refused to let them see her break. Her mind raced for options, anything to stall, to delay, to give Jonathan more time.

Two-Face straightened and turned to the Penguin. “Keep her comfortable, but not too comfortable. We’ll need her alive and scared when the time comes.”

With that, he stormed out again, leaving the Penguin to tut disapprovingly. “Such dramatics,” he muttered, adjusting his monocle. “But don’t worry, dear. I’ll make sure things don’t get too unpleasant for you. At least for now.”

Y/n’s jaw tightened as she met his gaze. She wasn’t about to sit and wait for Jonathan to save her. If she was going to survive this, she’d have to find a way to delay whatever they had planned.

The Penguin sat at the table across from Y/n, absently swirling the liquid in a glass of wine as if he didn’t have a care in the world. Y/n’s wrists still ached, but the silence was worse than the ropes had been. The Penguin had hardly said a word in the last few minutes, only glancing at her occasionally with that eerie smirk.

Y/n’s mind was racing, desperate for some kind of plan. She couldn’t figure out what was more terrifying, sitting helplessly or the thought of what might happen next.

The tension was broken when the door suddenly flew open. A goon in a cheap penguin mask barreled in, his breath ragged, his eyes wide with panic beneath the plastic disguise.

“Boss! We’ve got a problem!” the goon yelled, practically tripping over his own feet.

The Penguin straightened in his chair, a predatory glint in his eye. “Ah, it seems the guest of honor has arrived sooner than expected,” he said, pushing his glass aside and adjusting his monocle.

“No, boss,” the goon stammered, shaking his head violently. “It’s not him. It’s..it’s something else!”

The Penguin’s smirk faltered, and he leaned forward. “Something else?” he echoed, his tone dripping with skepticism. “What else could possibly be here?”

Before the goon could respond, a blood-curdling scream pierced the air, echoing through the halls.

The Penguin shot up from his chair, his usual composed demeanor cracking. “What in blazes—”

A deafening bang followed the scream, the sound reverberating through the room as though something massive had collided with the walls outside.

The goon’s panic reached a fever pitch, and he backed toward the door. “Boss, we’ve got to get out of here! It’s tearing through-”

His words were cut off by another crash, this one closer. The walls seemed to vibrate with the force of it, and a low, guttural growl that didn’t sound remotely human seeped into the room.

Y/n froze, her heart pounding in her chest. Whatever was out there, it wasn’t Jonathan, and it wasn’t anything she’d ever heard before.

The Penguin cursed under his breath, shoving past the goon to reach the door. He peeked through the crack, only to pull back immediately, his face pale.

“Well,” he muttered, his voice uncharacteristically shaky, “it appears we’ve attracted some rather unsavory company.”

“What is it?” Y/n demanded, her voice breaking despite herself.

The Penguin looked back at her, the faintest trace of fear in his eyes. “Let’s just say, my dear,” he said, reaching for his umbrella, “this party has a new guest…and it’s not one I care to entertain.”

Before anyone could move, the door burst open, splintering off its hinges. Another scream erupted from somewhere in the distance as something massive loomed in the doorway, casting a long, dark shadow into the room.

Y/n’s stomach jumped. It was Killer Croc. His hulking, reptilian form towered over everyone, his scaled skin glistening under the dim light. Yellow, predatory eyes locked onto her immediately, and the low growl rumbling from his throat sent shivers down her spine.

“Aw, hell,” one of the goons whispered, stepping back in terror.

Croc’s lips curled into a snarl, revealing rows of sharp teeth. Without a word, he started moving toward her, each heavy step shaking the floor beneath him.

“Don’t just stand there, you idiots!” The Penguin screeched, waving his cane frantically. “Stop him!”

The goons scrambled to comply, drawing their weapons. One of them swung a metal pipe, aiming for Croc’s chest. It connected with a sickening clang but didn’t even make him flinch.

Croc’s gaze didn’t waver from Y/n as his massive clawed hand lashed out, grabbing the goon by the chest. With horrifying ease, he flung the man across the room, his body slamming into the wall with a sickening crunch.

Another goon rushed him with a knife, aiming for his side. Croc swatted him away like a fly, the man screaming as he was hurled across the table and into the opposite wall.

Y/n’s heart was pounding so loudly she could barely hear the chaos around her. Her legs were still tied, and escape was impossible. She could only watch in frozen terror as Croc cut through the men like they were nothing.

“Croc! Old pal, let’s talk about this!” Penguin called out, stepping forward with a forced smile. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of understanding. There’s no need for all this…carnage.”

Croc finally stopped and turned his head toward Penguin. “I’m not here for you, Cobblepot,” he growled, his voice deep and gravelly, dripping with menace.

Penguin took a cautious step back, still gripping his cane tightly. “Well, that’s a relief,” he muttered, then cleared his throat. “But you’re wrecking my establishment, Croc. Surely there’s a more civilized way to handle–”

Croc cut him off with a snarl, taking another step toward Y/n. “I said I’m not here for you,” he repeated, his voice booming. “I’m here for her.”

Penguin’s forced bravado crumbled, his eyes darting between Croc and Y/n. “Now, listen,” he said, backing toward the door. “This isn’t my business. You do what you need to, big guy. I’ll…I’ll just get out of your way.”

And with that, the Penguin turned and bolted, his cane clutched under his arm as he disappeared through the door.

Y/n’s breath caught as Croc finally reached her, his towering frame filling her vision. He crouched down, his enormous bulk making everything else in the room seem small and insignificant. She didn’t flinch this time as his clawed hand reached out, her trust in him outweighing her fear.

With a single swipe, Croc shredded the ropes binding her legs, freeing her effortlessly.

“You’re coming with me,” he rumbled, his deep voice steady and reassuring as he stood to his full, imposing height.

Relief flooded through Y/n, and for the first time since she’d been dragged into this nightmare, she felt a glimmer of hope. This wasn’t a new threat, it was exactly what she’d asked for. Croc had come, just like she’d hoped he would.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice trembling but full of gratitude.

Croc didn’t respond, but his firm nod was enough. He glanced toward the door as the sound of heavy boots and shouting echoed down the hallway. Reinforcements were on their way. His lips curled into a snarl, claws flexing in anticipation.

“We’ve gotta move,” he growled, grabbing her arm with surprising care, his grip steady but gentle.

Y/n got to her feet, her legs shaky but holding firm. She trusted him, Croc was here for her, and despite the chaos still raging around them, she felt safer with him than she had all night.

“Let’s go,” he rumbled again, and this time, she didn’t hesitate.

Whatever lay ahead, at least she wasn’t facing it alone anymore.

The room trembled with every step Killer Croc took, his hulking form moving with surprising agility as he led Y/n toward the exit. The chaos around them was deafening, screams, gunfire, and the sickening crunch of bodies meeting walls as Croc swatted away any goons foolish enough to stand in his way.

Y/n clung to his arm, her legs still unsteady but moving as fast as she could to keep up. Every time she stumbled, Croc slowed just enough to let her regain her footing without missing a beat.

Another wave of goons poured into the hallway ahead, weapons drawn and yelling threats. Croc didn’t even break stride. With a feral snarl, he charged forward, his claws ripping through their defenses like paper. One swung a bat, only for Croc to catch it mid-swing and snap it in half before tossing the man aside like a ragdoll.

Y/n winced at the violence, but she couldn’t deny the strange sense of relief washing over her. These men had taken her, threatened her, and Croc was making sure they wouldn’t get another chance.

“Stay close,” Croc rumbled, glancing back at her as the last of the goons hit the ground, groaning.

They turned a corner, only to be met with a pair of doors that slammed open. More reinforcements. Y/n’s heart sank as she recognized the man leading them, Two-Face, his disfigured face twisted in fury.

“Croc!” Two-Face barked, raising a pistol. “You’re making a mistake. Walk away now, and we’ll forget this.”

Croc didn’t respond with words. Instead, he let out a low growl, a warning that sent a shiver down Y/n’s spine. Two-Face fired, the bullet grazing Croc’s shoulder.

It only seemed to make him angrier.

With a roar, Croc lunged, slamming into Two-Face’s men like a freight train. The pistol clattered to the ground as Croc grabbed Two-Face by the front of his suit, lifting him effortlessly off the floor.

Croc snarled, his growl a guttural threat. He hurled Two-Face into a group of his men, scattering them like bowling pins.

“Let’s go,” Croc said, turning to Y/n.

Together, they burst through the nearest exit, emerging into the cold night air. Y/n gasped, her lungs greedily taking in the fresh air as they made their way across the deserted lot.

Behind them, the chaos roared like a storm, shouts, gunfire, and the crashing of furniture as Croc barreled forward, Y/n close at his heels. They burst out of the building into the cold night, the sharp air stinging her lungs.

Croc didn’t stop, his massive frame plowing through the darkened lot, scattering debris in their path. Y/n stumbled but kept moving, her heart pounding as they crossed the open space, shadows stretching long under flickering lights.

The shouts behind them grew fainter as they disappeared into the night, her pulse finally slowing when they reached the safety of an abandoned alley. She’ll be back in Jonathan’s arms in no time.

A/N: yay!! more Waylon!! lol, we love Crocy, and we gon' have more of him, slay!

I hope you enjoyed this part, and thank you for reading 💚

(God, i had yo post this from my phone cause my laptops being a bitch on tumblr)

#fanfic #smut #jonathan crane #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane x reader #batman #the dark knight #the dark knight trilogy #dc scarecrow #cillian murphy scarecrow #batman scarecrow #the scarecrow #scarecrow #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane smut

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slut4thebroken · 2 years ago

Text

Exposure Therapy pt. 8

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane × reader

Summary | You make the poor choice of teasing Dr. Crane, so obviously he has to punish you.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding, kissing, hickeys, praise, edging, crying (but in a hot way), consensual sex, orgasm denial, cockwarming?, emotions? idk, neither does he tbh, bestie has no idea how to comfort you💀

Words | 3.6k

Notes | Trying really hard to keep his character accurate😓 lmk what y’all think lol

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

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Part 7

Neither of you mentioned his confession again. He seemed to be acting mostly normal and only a little awkward and withdrawn so you tried to remain the same to assure him that nothing changed. You were sitting on the couch, doodling with a spare piece of paper he found as well as an extra pencil, when you broke the silence.

“Where are you planning on sleeping?” You asked, eyeing the large space that was empty save for a desk, a chair, and a couch.

“The couch.” He said, not looking up from what he was working on.

“Where am I supposed to sleep?” You asked, making him sigh and turn his gaze to you. “For now you may sleep on the couch, I doubt I’ll be sleeping much anyway.”

“Oh. Don’t you have an apartment? A bed?”

“The cops are going to be looking for everyone that escaped, including myself- especially myself, because I created what caused all of that.”

“Oh… What if I go? I can bring you back some clothes so you don’t have to stay in that and anything else you need? I doubt I can lift a mattress on my own though.”

“You want to go to my apartment in the middle of town, wearing that?” He asked, raising his brows. You looked down at your outfit and frowned, just now remembering that you’re wearing it still.

“People are dumb enough to hang their laundry up outside. I’ll just take something before getting downtown.” You suggested, but back tracked when he was silent for a moment. “I don’t have to, it was just an idea.”

“What will you do if the police show up?”

“Um… I’ll tell them you’re my boyfriend and I left something there that I need.” That made him scoff.

“They won’t believe that.”

“Fine. Ex boyfriend. Who’s been so busy working that I had to just go there myself.” You shrugged and he narrowed his eyes at you for a moment.

“Fine. Know that if you get caught, I have no power or leverage anymore to help you.” Honestly you didn’t expect him to agree. You figured he might want to keep you within his sight at all times but that wasn’t the case. Trying not to read into this new found trust, you were going over the plan in your head.

“Wait, is it even within walking distance?” You realized, worried the whole plan just fell apart.

“It’s not on this island, so no. And the train is still down because of the bat.”

“Oh… I can probably walk, it’ll just take me longer I guess.” The sun was rising anyway, so it’ll probably be fine. “Or I’ll ask someone for a ride.”

“Do not do that.” He said sternly, making you frown.

“Why not?”

“Because this is Gotham and you are a young, attractive woman. You will more than likely be kidnapped, raped, or killed.”

“What am I supposed to do then?” He let out a heavy sigh, and got something out of his desk drawer. When he told you to come to him, you stood, leaving the pencil and paper, and walked over.

“Give me your hand.” You held your arm out to him and he gently grabbed your hand to put on a very weird shaped bracelet on your wrist. “In case you don’t have time to put the mask on, point it away from your face and hold your breath, then push this.” He pointed to a lever near the heel of your hand and you reached for it, trying to test the motion and get used to it, but he stopped you.

“Not- now.” He strained, uncurling your fingers.

“Sorry.” You said sheepishly.

Then you were leaving, finding clothes that looked about the right size and changing in an alley behind a dumpster. The tricky part was the shoes but they’re subtle enough that they shouldn’t draw very much attention. You found an empty paper bag near the dumpster and put the mask in it then started looking for someone to drive you. You spotted an older woman getting into a car and immediately walked toward her.

“Excuse me?” You said, making her pause.

“No change, sorry.”

“Oh no, I was actually hoping you could give me a ride. I have a job interview downtown and it probably wouldn’t make a good impression to show up all sweaty. But I understand if it’s too much trouble…”

She only hesitated for a moment before agreeing, telling you to get in the back and asking for the address. You read it off the paper to her and ten minutes later you were pulling up in front of an apartment building.

“You sure this is it?”

“It’s for a small business.” You explained, quickly getting out of the car. “Thank you so much.” You dropped the smile as soon as you turned around to walk into the building. “Fuck,” You groaned, “I don’t have a fucking key.” How could you have forgotten that part? You decided to just walk inside, breathing a sigh of relief when you spotted a front desk.

“Hi, I lost my key and my boyfriend’s out of town and I’m supposed to feed his cat,”

“What number?” The man asked, bored.

“178.” He reached back and grabbed a key, handing it to you impatiently. “Thanks...” He wasn’t lying when he said everyone and everything is corrupt or just doesn’t care.

You made your way to the elevator and pushed 17. As you waited, you went over the list he gave you. Most of the stuff was easy, an extra pair of glasses in his desk drawer, a few pairs of clothes, shoes, a toothbrush as well as the extra one under the sink for yourself, etc. But you were mostly worried about the safe and the papers he wanted. What if you can’t open it? What if you grab the wrong ones?

The elevator opening with a ding removed you from your thoughts and you made your way to his door. You worked quickly, not wanting to increase your chances of getting caught, but you took the time to fold his suits, worried he’d be upset if you just threw them in his duffel bag. You opened the safe on the second try, putting the money that was in there in the duffel bag.

Then you made your way to the desk. Even though the rest of the place was completely tidy, the desk was covered in different papers. He said they would be on top, not in a drawer, so you grabbed everything just to be safe.

Before leaving, you went through his dresser, praying he wouldn’t be pissed, and got some shirts and sweatpants for yourself, as well as a hoodie and socks.

The ride back was much easier since you had money to take a cab, but you still had to walk a few minutes, not wanting to be dropped off right in front of his “hideout” just in case.

“No trouble?” He asked, barely glancing up from what he was writing.

“Well I realized I forgot to ask about a key- speaking of which, you should probably move because the guy at the front desk just gave it to me.” The corners of his lips turned up and your cheeks went red, still not used to it.

“Good job.” You stared at him in shock, feeling your cheeks heat up even more, but you tried to play it off.

“Did you just compliment me?” You scoffed teasingly.

“Don’t get used to it. Did you bring the papers I asked for?”

“Oh- yeah.” You set the duffel bag on the desk and he opened it to inspect the contents. “I- I hope it’s okay, I brought just a few shirts and pants for myself too.” You said nervously. When he didn’t respond, you figured that meant it was okay. He started looking through the papers, then turned to you with raised brows. “I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bring the wrong thing so I just took all of it.”

“Thank you.” He said, making your eyes widen.

“Mhm.” Was all you could say in response. “Oh- here.” You said, suddenly remembering the wristband and taking it off to give it back.

“Keep it.”

“What?” You choked out. “You- you’re not worried I’ll use it on you or something?” You asked, staring at him with furrowed brows.

“Of course not.” He scoffed, then set the papers down and took out a suit and the shoes as you just waited awkwardly, not sure what to do. “Are you just going to watch?” He was teasing you, but there was still an edge to his voice.

“N- no, sorry.” You blushed, turning around and staring at the ground, listening to the sound of clothes rustling behind you and thinking about how you’ve only ever seen his face, neck, hands, and cock- nothing else. The thought made you frown. “Unless it’s okay… then I’d like to watch.” You said quietly and the rustling stopped.

“Why?” His tone was guarded.

“I just- I haven’t seen you yet and you’ve seen all of me.” You explained meekly. “Nevermind, sorry.” You waited anxiously as you heard no movement from the man behind you.

“Go ahead.” He said in a measured tone. You tentatively turned around, finding him in just a pair of dress pants, straight jacket on the floor and shirt in hand. The first thing you noticed was how lean he looks without his suit. The second were the small scars littering his torso. The third was his happy trail, leading down into his pants, teasing you.

“Satisfied?” You looked up at him when you heard his voice, not able to read his expression. When all you could do was nod, his lips curled up into a small smirk. “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll fuck you stupid over the desk.” He warned, voice laced with arousal.

“Is that a promise, doctor?” You purred, stepping closer to him, setting the wristband on the desk to have both hands free. He stiffened, but allowed you to move until you were right in front of him. Staring deep into icy blue eyes, you slowly raised your hands, as if you were approaching a wild animal who could attack at any second. His eyes moved to your hands, watching, but he didn’t say anything. So you slowly moved them closer until you could almost feel the heat from his body against your palms. His eyes moved back to yours and you searched them for a deterrent. When you found nothing, you placed your hands on his chest, sliding them down his stomach, making sure not to linger on any scars. You reached his pants and brushed over the button teasingly before snaking them back up his body.

“You’re playing with fire.” He said lowly. Your hands reached his shoulders and you trailed them down his arms. Once you reached his hands, you grabbed the shirt and set it on the desk, then took both of his hands in yours, moving them around your waist.

“On the contrary, Dr. Crane. I’m getting exactly what I want.” You placed your hands on his stomach again to snake around to his back.

“Oh? And what’s that?” He said coyly, playing along.

“You can let me keep teasing you to my heart's content or you can punish me. Either way I win.” You smirked, moving your hands down his back to his pants and following the waist line around his body until they met at the button.

“You think you’ll enjoy however I choose to punish you?” He scoffed.

“You said it yourself, doctor. You don’t want to hurt me. So I’m sure I can take it.” His hands moved to your hips, gripping tight enough to make you wince as he pushed you against the desk.

“Foolish girl. You underestimate my desire to watch you crying and begging for my forgiveness. I have no problem torturing you, in fact, I’ll enjoy it.” You faltered at that. “Does that frighten you?” He asked, tilting his head.

“You don’t scare me anymore.” You said quietly, feeling the arousal in your stomach quickly make its way between your legs.

“That’s not what I asked.” He teased and you swallowed thickly, squirming under his gaze.

“No.” You tried to keep your voice steady.

“Maybe not yet. But I’m sure it will soon.” He reached a hand up to wrap around your neck, squeezing and pulling you forward as your breath hitched. “I don’t have to hurt you to torture you. You should know that by now.” He said quietly, gaze straying to your lips.

“I can take it.” You said, equally as quiet, not even believing the words as they left your mouth.

“You think so?” He cooed and you nodded in response. “I guess we’ll find out then.” He took a step back and you whined at the loss of his touch, reaching out for him. “Pick it up.” He said, gesturing to the straight jacket. Your eyes moved anxiously between him and the garment, hesitating. “This is the only warning I’m giving you— You don’t want me to tell you again.” You leaned down and picked up the straight jacket, then waited for his next command.

“Put it on.”

“Dr. Crane,” You whined, but he raised his brows, making you close your mouth and reluctantly slide it on. He stepped closer again then started buckling the restraints.

“You seem to think that pain is the only form of punishment I’ll inflict. I guess given my history I shouldn’t be surprised but you need to get that idea out of your head right now or things will only get worse for you.” You stared at him with wide eyes but his gaze remained on the task of restraining you. “There are plenty of ways I can punish you.” He said clinically, like a doctor explaining something to a patient. “Like denial, for example. Not just orgasm denial… You can’t touch me either.”

“Please- I’m sorry.” You whined, giving him puppy dog eyes that did not work at all.

“I bet you are. I bet you’ll say whatever it is you think I want to hear right now. Unfortunately, the only sounds I want from you are moans and cries.” He led you over to the couch and kneeled in front of you to pull down your pants and underwear before having you sit. He discarded your shoes so he could fully remove your clothes, then pulled you forward to the edge of the couch and spread your legs embarrassingly wide.

“I think you also underestimate my patience. I am more than willing to do this as long as it takes.” He started dragging his hands up and down your thighs, teasing you, never getting close to where you wanted him.

“Please.” You whined as your hips started squirming.

“Come now… We haven’t even started and you’re already begging? At least save that until the actual torture begins.”

“Don’t want torture.” You muttered.

“No? I thought you said this would be a win for you? That you can take it.”

“Please.” You whined, much brattier this time— all but throwing a fit.

“There’s that attitude.” He chuckled. “Keep that up. It makes it more fun for me when you break.” His hands snaked up your thighs, then back down, teasing you. You whined and squirmed, but surprisingly, it worked. He moved a hand between your legs, swiftly pushing in two fingers and rapidly curling them against your walls. You let out a choked moan from the sudden pleasure as your head rolled back onto the couch and your hips bucked. He pulled you even farther down the couch, then leaned down and took your clit in his mouth.

“Oh fuck,” You said through a moan, hips flinching as he groaned against you in response. Lifting your head to look down at him, you found his eyes already on you, making you blush and squirm under his gaze. After getting so turned on and not coming when you sucked him off before, your orgasm approached quickly. The volume of your moans increased as you started trying to rut against his face. He suddenly pulled back, his fingers halting, making you whine.

“Please, I was so close.” You pouted.

“I know.” He leaned back down, resuming the motions of his fingers as he started working your clit over in his mouth again. Your breathing grew heavier as you felt yourself nearing the edge again, but you let out a choked sob when he stopped.

“Please!” You cried.

“Shh. Be a good girl and take your punishment.” He muttered before leaning back down and continuing. You weren’t sure how many times you were on the cusp of pleasure before it was ripped away from you, but you knew it was at least five— after that you weren’t able to concentrate on counting through your crying and desperation. He pulled back but continued moving his fingers as you babbled out incoherent pleas.

“I have to admit, my patience is wearing thin so I’ll only keep this up for a little longer.” You sobbed in relief at his words. “Once I’m ready to come, I’m gonna fuck your ass. Remember how much you liked it before? It won’t be nearly as pleasurable this time and you certainly won’t be able to come from it.”

“No- no, please.” You said, panicked. The thought of being empty was enough to intensify your crying. “Please- I don’t care if I don’t come, just please fuck me.” You whimpered.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He said softly, but you just shook your head.

“No, I- I need your cock- please!”

“How do I know you won’t come?” He asked, slowing his fingers to a stop before removing them, making you whimper at the emptiness.

“I won’t! Please- I promise I won’t!” He watched you cry for a moment before cursing under his breath and working on taking his cock out of his pants.

“Can’t fucking say no to you.” He muttered, helping you to lay down on the couch as he crawled over you. The second he pushed in, you let out a relieved sob that turned into a whine when you tried to move your arms.

“Please- I want to touch you. Please let me touch you.” You whimpered, watching the way his brows furrowed as his mouth opened in a silent moan when he was all the way in.

“I can’t, you still need to be punished.” He said breathlessly and you sobbed the hardest you have all night so far.

“Please! Please- I’m sorry!” You cried and he shushed you as he brought a hand up to wipe away the tears on your cheeks.

“I know, it’s okay.” He cupped your cheek and leaned down to kiss you as he slowly started moving. Trailing kisses up your jaw to your ear, he whispered, “You’re doing so well, little one. Making me feel so good.” You sobbed harder at the pet name— not used to such affection from him.

“Oh god,” You moaned, already feeling close again. When he picked up the pace and began kissing and marking your neck, you started panting again. You tried to at least tone down your sobbing a little bit, but after you started, it was really hard to stop.

“Fuck- I’m already close.” He whined, rutting into you desperately now. His hands never left your body as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, letting out quiet moans and shaky breaths. When he stilled with a low groan, your cunt ached at the way his cock was twitching inside you, painting your walls with his come. After a moment, his moans stopped and he was panting heavily into your shoulder. When he started pulling out, you sobbing intensified.

“No! Please- please don’t- not yet.” You whimpered.

“I need to get this off of you.” He said, lifting his head from your neck to look at the straight jacket.

“I don’t care- just please don’t leave yet.” You cried.

“Okay- It’s okay. Sit up like this.” He maneuvered you so that he was sitting on the couch and you were straddling his hips, his cock never leaving you. He started working on the straight jacket, unbuckling all of it until he could slip it off if you and toss it on the floor. Now that your hands were free, you realized that you couldn’t even do anything with them, not without making him uncomfortable. So you continued crying.

“Okay, just- come here.” He muttered, pulling you down to lay on his chest. Your hands gripped his shoulders tight as you turned your cheek, listening to his heartbeat and feeling the warmth of his skin. His hands fumbled around for a moment before eventually settling on your hips and you knew that he was probably miserable right now. Honestly you’re surprised he didn’t just throw you off of him instead.

“I’m sorry- I…” He shushed you, not letting you continue babbling out apologies.

“Just breathe.” He said softly and you couldn’t help but obey. You let out a slow shaky breath, trying to calm yourself down. “That’s it. Just focus on breathing. You did so well for me, I’m very proud.” You let out another quiet sob at the praise and shushed you again as he moved a hand up to your hair, lightly stroking it to soothe you.

“You’re okay.” He said softly. “Just breathe— you’re okay.”

Part 9

(For the sake of the plot, bestie is no longer taking oral contraceptives because he had her get an iud or something back in Arkham lol)

#jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #scarecrow x reader smut #scarecrow #exposure therapy

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mythicalcowboyatheart · 2 months ago

Text

The Crow and The Robin

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Jonathan Crane x robin!reader

Warnings: SMUT, oral (m and f receiving), Crane a creep, PWP

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You work as a vigilante in Gotham alongside Bruce. One day, during a mission alone, you were caught off guard and found yourself being taken down by Scarecrow. You expected a reaction, but he simply looked at you; his eyes were so blue.

he effortlessly spins you around to face him. You fight against his grip and failed.

"I simply must know" he murmured, and then his mask disappeared.

you look him in the eyes "Dr Crane!" You gasp in shock

he smirked at the sound of his name leaving your lips, he knew you would recognize him eventually

"There it is, the sound of fear in your voice. How lovely."

he chuckled as he pinned your arms above your head, straddling you

You struggle against him "no let go! get off me!"

he laughed and pressed his body against yours, pinning you even further

"You know that's not going to happen, darling. Not when I've finally gotten you right where i want you."

"what do you what form me" you ask still trying to get out of his grip.

he gripped your wrists tighter, a dangerous smirk on his face

"I want you in so many ways darling. But first..."

he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear

"I want to see that pretty little face contorted with fear and despair."

"no...no please don't.." you plead fighting in his grip

he chuckled, clearly enjoying the way you begged and fought against him

"Begging won't do you any good, darling. You're mine now, and there's nothing you can do about it."

he pressed his body harder against yours, his lips grazing the skin of your neck

You gasp as you feel him get hard against you.he smirked against your skin as he heard the gasp, his body reacting to your close proximity

"Feeling a little flustered, darling?"

he whispered, his lips moving up your neck and towards your ear

You whimper slightly "please let me go"

he chuckled again, the sound low and seductive as he pulled away to look at your masked face

"let's get rid of this mask"

"no" you beg

he chuckled again, ignoring your plea.

"I'm not asking, darling. I'm telling you."

he began to slowly pull the mask away from your face, his eyes watching you intently You try to move your head away from him but can't.

he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him

'Stop fighting it, darling. You know you can't win against me."

he continued to slowly pull the mask away, revealing more and more of your face

You closed your eyes as if it would help you hide your face

he smirked as he removed the mask completely, his eyes roaming over your exposed face

"No need to hide, darling, You're absolutely gorgeous."

You open your eye. he chuckled softly as he looked at your face, his eyes widening slightly as he recognized you.

"Well, well, well... if it isn't one of my favorite students."

"please let me go doctor Crane"

he chuckled again, his grip on your wrists tightening as he leaned in close

"And why would I do that, sweetheart? You're right where I want you. At my mercy."

"Bat Man is on his way he wont hold back if he sees you on me like this, let me go i won't tell him who you are" you threat

he sooffs at the mention of Batman, a look of amusement on his face

"Batman? You think I care about him? Please, darling. I've been toying with him for years.

he moves closer, his body pressing against yours again, his lips next to your ear

"No one is going to save you. You're mine now, whether you like it or not."

"why? Why do you want me?"

he pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes as he spoke, his voice low and possessive

"Why do I want you? Because you're the only one who intrigued me, the only one who's ever been able to get under my skin."

he gently brushed a strand of hair out of your face

"You're strong, smart, and beautiful. I've been drawn to you since the moment I laid eyes on you."

"please let me go ill do anything thing tou want ill be yours just let me go"

his smirk widened at your offer, his eyes darkening with desire

"Anything, you say? You'll do anything i want, and you'll be mine?"

You nod "yes as long as you let me go"

he leaned in close, his lips almost touching yours as he spoke, his voice a low whisper

"Very well, darling. I'll make you a deal. I'll let you go... but only if you promise to come back to me willingly."

"okay... okay"

he released your wrists, his hands slowly sliding down your body as he pulled away

"Good girl."

he stepped back, allowing you to sit up but his eyes never left your body.

You pause for a minute realizing theres probably more to what he wants

he chuckled, seeing the realization in your eyes

"Ah, I see you're catching on. Yes, darling, there is more to it than just letting you go."

"what do you want dr Crane?"

he took a step closer to you, his eyes roaming over your body hungrily

"I want to fuck you senseless before you go, so I know you'll come back to me."

Your eyes widen in shock

he chuckled at your expression, enjoying the look of surprise on your face.

"What, did you think I was going to let you go without getting a taste of you first? I've wanted you for too long, darling. And now that I have you.... I'm not letting you go that easily."

"okay...fine."

he smirked, his eyes darkening with lust as he closed the distance between you

"Good girl. Always so willing to please, aren't you?"

You avoid eye contact he chuckled again, tilting your chin up to make you look at him

"Ah ah, don't look away. I want you to look at me while I have you."

You look into his eyes and nod

he smiled, his fingers trailing down your neck and to your shoulder and down your back as he slowly unzips your costume

"That's it, darling. Keep looking at me. I want to see every expression on your beautiful face"

You continue to look in Cranes eyes, your face Turning slightly pink

he notices the flush on your cheeks and grins

"Oh, look at you, getting all flustered already. You're so cute when you blush."

Your face turns a darker shade of pink at this comment. Then your face turns fully red as he finishes unzipping the back

he chuckled again, enjoying the way your face turned red as the costume fell open, revealing more of your skin.

"There we go. Much better."

he slowly slides the costume off your shoulders, his fingers tracing over your skin as he does so

You shiver slightly at the touch.

he smirks at your shiver, his hands continuing to move down your body, now tracing over your stomach and hips

"Are you cold, darling? Or is it something else that's making you shiver?"

You dont respond but instead you remove the rest of the costume reviling a dark red matching bra and pantie set

his eyes darken even more as he takes in the sight of you in your underwear, his hands now roaming over your thighs

"Oh, darling... you look absolutely divine. This is a sight I could get used to seeing."

You rest your arms on his shoulders and start to kiss up his neck

he lets out a low groan as your lips touch his neck, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he tilts his head to give you better access

"Mmm, that's it, baby. Keep doing that..."

You begin to unbutton Jon's shirt and kiss the newly exposed skin

he closes his eyes, letting out a shaky breath as you continue to kiss his skin, his hands moving to your waist pulling you closer

"You're driving me crazy, darling. Keep going, and I won't be able to hold back."

"do i make you nervous Dr Crane?" You ask against his skin giveing up on the buttons and ripping his shirt as you kiss from his neck and down his stomach you look up at you through my eyelashes as you get on your knees.

he looks down at you, his eyes dark with lust as you rip open his shirt and kneel before him

"Nervous? No, darling. You make me weak"

he reaches down, running his fingers through your hair, gently tilting your head back to look up at him

You smile and reach to undo his belt not braking eye contact

he lets out a shaky exhale as you start to undo his belt, his grip on your hair tightening slightly

"Good girl. You're such a tease, you know that?"

You laugh and unbutton and unzip his pants, then pull them down to his knees and press soft kisses on his thighs.

he shudders as your lips touch his thighs, his body responding to your touch with a growing need

"Fuck... keep going, baby. Don't stop."

you pull boxers down and watch as his cock springs out of them. You wrap your hand around the base and pump your hand up and down untill his fully hard

he lets out a deep groan, his head tilting back as you take him in your hand, his body trembling with desire

"Oh, God... yes... just like that, darling. Don't stop... don't you dare stop."

You smile as you give a small lick to the tip of Jon's cock

he gasps as your tongue touches his tip his hips jerking slightly in response

"Ah... god, you're going to be the death of me..."

You giggle as you take only the head of his cock in your mouth and slowly suck and lick

he moans loudly, his fingers gripping your hair tightly as you tease him with your mouth

"Goddamn... your mouth feels incredible... don't be a tease, darling.... take more..."

You hum against his cock and take him deeper in your mouth and continue to pump what you cant fit in your mouth with your hand

he lets out a guttural moan, his body trembling as you take him deeper into your mouth

"Yes... just like that... oh, baby... you're doing so good...

he looks down at you, watching as you work his cock with your mouth and hand, his eyes filled with lust and adoration.

You bob your head and move your hand a bit faster

he groans again, his grip on your hair tightening even more as you increase the pace, his breathing becoming ragged and uneven

"Fuck... I'm not gonna last much longer like this... you're too damn good..."

You remove your mouth from his cock but still move your hand

"ware do you want to cum Dr. Crane?"

he groans in frustration as you remove your mouth, but he manages to speak through his ragged breaths

"In... your mouth... I want to come in your pretty little mouth, darling..." you take him back in your mouth and hollow your cheeks.

he lets out a strangled moan as you take him back in your mouth, his body tensing as he feels the pleasure building

"Yes... just like that... I'm so close... so close for you, darling..."

You grab his hand and place it on the back of your head he looks at you for a moment, his eyes dark and filled with desire as he understands what you want him to do. He tangles his fingers in your hair, holding your head firmly as he begins to thrust into your mouth, his movements becoming rough and urgent

he notices the way you grip his thighs, the slight pain sending a thrill through him.

"Mmm, do you like that, darling? Do you like feeling me lose control like this?"

he thrusts harder into your mouth, his breathing becoming more ragged and desperate

You hum and clinch yout thighs together he notices the movement of your thighs and smirks

"Oh, I can tell you're enjoying this just as much as I am, darling. Your body is so responsive to me... so sensitive..."

You hun arouyhin again he moans loudly as you hum around him again, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through his body

"You're driving me insane... I'm not gonna last much longer, darling... you're gonna make me come so hard..."

he shudders as you draw shapes on his thighs, the gentle touch almost too much for him to handle

"Fuck... baby... I'm so close... just a little more... I'm gonna come down your throat..."

Your hand that was on his cock moves to massage his balls he lets out a loud, strangled moan as your hand moves to his balls, the added stimulation pushing him even closer to the edge

"Oh god... yes... right there, darling... keep doing that... I'm going to come..."

his body tenses and he lets out a final, guttural moan as he finally reaches his climax, spilling himself down your throat

"Oh... f-fuck... yes... that's it, darling... take it all..."

You swallow his cum and lick his cock clean.

he watches you through hooded eyes, his breathing heavy and ragged as he comes down from his high. He gently runs his fingers through your hair, a satisfied smirk on his face

'Good girl... you swallowed every drop..."

You nod dreamily drunk off cock he chuckles softly, clearly amused by how much you're affected by him

"You look so beautiful like this, darling... so obedient and pliant..."

You unclip your bra his eyes darken with lust as he watches your bra slide off, his gaze fixed on your now exposed chest

"You're absolutely stunning, my love..."

"you can touch me dr. Crane you don't have to be shy" you chuckle

he chuckles softly, his hands slowly moving to cup your breasts

"I'm not being shy, darling... I'm just admiring the view. And I must say, the sight of you like this is quite breathtaking..."

you smile and whisper in his ear "If you think im breathtaking now you should take off my panties and see the rest of me" you bite his neck gently.

he shudders as you bite his neck, a low groan escaping his lips

"You're a naughty girl, aren't you? Tempting me like this..."

he runs his hands down your body, slowly pushing your panties down your legs

You step out of them and kick them across the floor "how do you want me Dr. Crane?"

he steps closer to you, his gaze roaming over your body as he takes in every inch of you

"On the desk." He said with a smirk on his face

You smile and hop on the wood desk and spread your legs so Jonathan can see all of you

he steps between your legs, his eyes burning with desire as he looks down at you. He gently runs his hands up your thighs, tracing patterns on your skin as he moves closer to your core.

a shiver gose up you spine he notices the shiver, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he continues to caress your thighs

"So sensitive... I love it."

You nod he leans down, his lips trailing kisses along your inner thighs, moving closer and closer to your core you push the hair out of his face

he looks up at you through his lashes, a hungry glint in his eyes as he continues to kiss and nip at your skin. His lips brush against your inner thigh, so close to where you want him. he grins, enjoying the sound of your whimpers. He then slowly drags his tongue along your folds, tasting you for the first time.

You grip his hair tight he groans as you tug on his hair, the sound sending vibrations through your core. He begins to circle your clit with his tongue, his movements slow and deliberate

You out moan quiet curse words in pleasure as you try not to buck your hips

he chuckles against you, enjoying the effect he has on you. He then pushes his tongue inside you, his hands gripping your thighs to hold you in place

You moan loudly "FUCK!"

he grins as he continues to work his tongue inside you, lapping at your juices as he pulls you closer to the edge

The grip on his hair get tighter as his nose hits your swollen clit

he groans again, the pressure on his hair sending a jolt of pleasure through him. He redoubles his efforts, his tongue moving faster and harder against your sensitive flesh. You moan and begin to fuck yourself on his tongue

he watches you with a feral intensity, loving the way you're using his tongue to chase your pleasure. He grips your thighs tighter, encouraging you to continue

a tear of pleasure rolls down you cheek as you keep fucking yourself on his face "Fuck-"

he groans at the sight of the tear, his own desire growing even stronger. He moves his tongue in syne with your movements, determined to bring you to the brink.

the pleasure is too much and with a choked gasp you cum all over Cranes face

he eagerly laps up your juices, his eyes dark with lust as he watches you come undone. He continues to gently tease you with his tongue, prolonging your orgasm for as long as possible he gently pulls away, his lips and chin glistening with your release. He moves up your body, trailing kisses along your stomach and chest until he reaches your neck. He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent as he grabs a syringe off the desk and jabs it into your neck injecting you with it.

You gasp his name in surprise as your vision becomes blurry.

"Sweet dreams my little Robin"

You hear him say before everything turns black.

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#johnathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #cillian murphy

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lucyswinter · 1 year ago

Text

onion tears and caring kisses 🧅 〰️. - * • ❤️‍🩹

pairing: jonathan crane x f!reader

summary: jonathan comes home from a long day at work to his loving girlfriend trying (and failing) to cook dinner

genre: fluff

warnings: slightly ooc!jonathan, praise, mention of a slight burn

♡ ♡ ♡

(a/n): my first fanfic!! it’s just a lil drabble but i hope you enjoy <3 also i only sort of proofread so i apologise for any mistakes 😣

♡ ♡ ♡

you sigh loudly as a puff of steam quickly rises up from the small pan of onions you have sautéing on the stove. heavy raindrops are pelting the window above the counter next to you, an added distraction to the already hectic atmosphere.

“my gosh how difficult is it to cook some onions?” you mumble to yourself as your eyes water slightly from the intense smell of the onions. you drop the wooden spoon you had been holding, and bring your hand up to wave the thick steam away from your face, just as the smoke alarm goes off. you swat your hand down and groan, accidentally hitting your exposed wrist on the hot pan, which orients a louder and more aggressive groan.

“why does everything have to go wrong” you moan in annoyance, shrinking onto the floor with your back against the marble countertops, clutching your wrist, now red from the heat. the smoke alarm is still blaring at an annoyingly loud volume and at confusing, spotty intervals.

“love?” jonathan questions worriedly as he walks into the kitchen, slipping off a raincoat from his shoulders, pants damp from the rain “what is that sound” he continued in the nervous tone, referring to the smoke alarm. he walks forward a small bit and places his coat on the kitchen island, still unable to find you.

“jonathan? i didn’t even hear you come in” you exclaim as you hop up from your slouching position against the counter, wincing a little as you place your injured hand against the cold, hard floor in an attempt to get up.

“oh there you are!” he says, relieved. he smiles, walking over to you briskly and pulling you the rest of the way up by your elbows, giving you a small peck on the lips. “how was your day, pretty girl?” he looks you up and down as he waits for a response, his smile drops as he sees the quickly forming burn mark on your wrist.

“oh, love, did you do this? what happened?” he asks you, lifting your chin up with his fingers so he can make eye contact with you. “hm?” he prompts when he is met with silence.

“sorry i um” you wipe away a tear from your eyes, partly from the onions, and partly because it has been a very stressful half an hour in the kitchen. “i was trying to make dinner but i kind of messed it up and i hurt myself on the stove” you sniff, rubbing your wrist and turning your head to avoid his forced gaze.

he turns your head back to him, fingers still holding your chin. he frowns at your tears.

“oh my sweet girl” he praises, peppering soft kisses your under eyes which have become increasingly shiny from a more consistent stream of tears. he then brings your wrist up to his lips and gives it a soft kiss. you wince at the feeling, and pull it to your chest, cradling it slowly. he takes your cheeks in his hands and uses his calloused thumbs to brush away the rest of the tears. “darling, you know i always make dinner, you didn’t have to do this.” he coos you, his tone quiet and reassuring.

“i know john, i just-“ you huff, voice breaking a bit. you spot the corners of his mouth turn a little more downward, his frown more pronounced. you take a deep breath in and continue “-you just said you’ve had a hard week at work and i wanted to do something for you, and i thought it would be nice if you could come home and have one less thing to do, but i didn’t take into account that i really do not know how to cook, and tacos are especially labor intensive” you drone on, a stress-induced hiccup punctuating your rant.

he stays quiet for a few seconds, still holding your teary face in his hands. he lets out a chuckle and kisses your lips.

“oh my kind and caring girl. so thoughtful” he hums against your lips. “mm” he groans as he pulls away to look at you, tears still falling.

instead of saying anything else, he just brushes the tears collecting on your chin and turns off the stove. he then leads you to a drawer from which he pulls out ointment and a small bandage wrap. he squirts the pasty off-white ointment onto your red wrist and spreads it very softly, his heart aching at your quiet winces. he then wraps the bandage around your wrist and cuts it with a light tug.

“there we go, pretty girl. all patched up.* he places a soft kiss on the tip of your nose “why don’t we just order some takeout now, love?” he chuckles again.

you nod and sniffle, feeling a little guilty that he has more to do after a stressful day. your cheek smooshes against his shoulder as he pulls you into a tight embrace.

“jonathan, your kind of squishing me.” you tell him through his sweater.

“oh, im sorry love.” he pulls away chuckling, but keeps his hands locked around your arms. he pulls an arm away to wipe your tears one last time. “so should we get dim sum or pizza?” he asks, a playful grin sneaking onto his cheeks.

“how about tacos?” you reply with a smile, already in a better mood.

“sounds perfect” he softens his grin to return your smile as he begins to pull out his phone from his pocket.

…

you enjoyed the rest of the night eating professionally made tacos, and snuggling against jonathan on the couch. even though it ended up okay this time, you and jonathan agreed that you should not be allowed to cook for a while…

♡ ♡ ♡

(a/n): thanks for reading if you made it this far! ill be putting out more fanfics as soon as possible (once i figure out how to set up my inbox 😭)

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #cillian murphy x reader #jonathan crane x y/n #scarecrow x reader #ooc jonathan crane #fanfic #jonathan crane fanfic #lucywrites<3

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grackleshells · 1 year ago

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I haven’t finished the series yet but Scarecrow in Batman: The Audio Adventures has to be one of my favorite iterations of the character. Gah! I just can’t get over it!

He’s so sinister yet has this giddiness about him and I just adore it! The knife game scene comes to mind first but even just his dialogue as Dr. Jonathan Crane is so full of energy and character. Like he takes glee in terrorizing people! And I love that! It makes everything he does more horrific.

Also the fact he has little quirks like giggling sinisterly (even when he’s supposed to be a regular not-evil Dr lmao), having a love for old creature features, and a reoccurring desire to eat fear (hot) makes his whole character stand out- he’s not just the same scary, evil guy but in a different medium. Why are so many people sleeping on him?? It makes me insane

Bradley Whitford absolutely stole the show and his voice-work is truly something special. Really hope we see more of him as Scarecrow in the future

#the same goes for the Riddler too!#john leguizamo did wonderful #made me fall in love with a character i normally am pretty neutral on #miss Tuesday of course was also a delight #Batman #batman the audio adventures #btaa #scarecrow #scarecrow Batman #scarecrow btaa #Jonathan crane

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deadgirlsnoring · 1 year ago

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FORGIVE ME | DR. JONATHAN CRANE

Summary; He’s so sorry for what he did, and he’s gonna prove to you just how much he is.

Contents; Face sitting (fem recieving), whiny/bratty Jonathan, degradation, cumming without touch, overstimulation, begging, black fem reader.

Her silky smooth skin rubbed up against his, he couldn't help but whine and try to get out of the restraints restricting him.

"I-I told you... fuck. I told you I'm sorry, how many times do I have to say this!" Jon was getting frustrated, how could Y/n do this to him. It wasn't enough, she wanted him to feel her rage.

Clicking her tongue, she rolled her eyes. "Why would you kiss her then? Bring her up to our hotel room like you guys were gonna get it on." The dr. was tied up to the bed, his hands tightly roped together along with his legs, ankles so tight he knew he'd have bruises the next day.

"Oh, please. I p- promise, okay? Promise It won't happen again, just let me cum." She shook her head slowly, her eyes seeping deep into his soul.

Y/n sat sideways towards Jonathan, her short French white manicure dancing creepily on his thighs, never touching where he truly wanted her to. Always going so close but so far.

"I love you, hm? You know I do momma. Made a mistake is all, I'm good. Aren't I?" She cooed, her warm hands getting tangled in his fluffy hair. He almost thought she was really gonna go easy on him, almost.

Jon gritted his teeth and whined carelessly when she tugged on it harshly, pulling his face as much as she could toward her. "You think I don't see through you?" She mumbled, fake pouting. He could feel and smell her icy breath on his neck.

This was the most Y/n had touched him in hours, he was glad but oh how he wasn't, "You're a pathetic slut, you crave attention so bad that when I don't give it to you, you look for random sluts?"

When she let go harshly he whimpered quietly, missing her harsh but loveable touch.

"You want somebody else to love you? Do you not think I give your ungrateful ass what you want?" A pout fell upon his face, trying to get out of his restraints.

"N- No! I only want you. I'm so sorry, forgive me." Chuckling lowly, she stood up. Her red bottoms clicked on the floor at each and every step she took.

Jonathan was completely undressed, with no type of clothing on his body. On the other hand, Y/n was dressed somewhat head to toe, with a small black mini skirt, black thigh garters, and her signature black lacy bra.

"I can untie you right now Jonny, you wanna go have fun with any slut you see? Ugh you're such a slut, aren't you?” He frantically nodded his head, he just wanted to please her.

"I don't want you to! I'm your slut, I'm yours. Please please please say it." She didn't want to make him happy. Wanted to break him down into a sobbing little mess.

"Now you're gonna tell me what to do? Thought you knew better than that." The man could feel the hot tears brimming, she was always so mean.

A choked moan fell from his lips when Y/n held the base of his needy cock, precum already spilling from his tip. "Why do you have to be so pathetic baby? It's embarrassing, really." He was panting loudly as her hands started an up and down motion, it hurt so good.

"M'thank you, fuck t- thank you." She pouted her lips, he really was so cute sometimes, "Language, now shut the fuck up. Don't wanna hear a peep from you. You can cum when you feel like it, okay Jonny?"

He nodded appreciatingly, she only had the tiniest bit of niceness in her body, and he loved it so much.

A small smile crept onto her face, holding one hand at the base while she moved the other one in a half circle, so fast his vision was blurring.

"S- Slow... Slow? P- Please?" Jonny was breathing so heavily you couldn't even hear anything else. Y/n wasn't smiling, "I tell you to shut up and you don't listen? Why are you such a brat? So fucking annoying."

Wanting to be quiet for her, he tried his best. Only letting out a small whimper when she grazed over his tip.

She said he could cum whenever, so when he felt that pit in his stomach when her mouth attached to his needy head, oh he couldn't help it.

Y/n lightly grazed his dick with her teeth, he only liked it when he was getting punished, to induce the pain. Only doing two strokes of that, the girl sucked on his tip, her tongue swirling around it. That's what made tears fall down his face, when they reached his mouth he just licked them off.

His body tensed up and he choked back a moan, but Y/n didn't care. Humming and continuing her work she smirked when his warm liquid coated the walls of her throat.

It kept going, and she kept sucking. Milking him for all he had. When he finished completely, she slowly moved up off him, waiting for him to come back into reality. While he was doing so she scooched up, placing little tiny kisses along his jaw, circling down to his chest and back up.

"Thank you t- thank you, I'm sorry for what I did." Looking at her smiling softly with a blank stare he should've known at that moment, she wasn't finished.

"You wanna eat miss out? Hm?" Her voice was soft and innocent, yet her words were far from it. Lightly giggling when he nodded his head repeatedly.

She had no panties on under and her man always had a thing for short skirts, so she kept it on.

“Don’t do that, let me help you. Please.” Y/n was teasing him. He couldn’t pull her thighs down when she hovered over his face, licking his lips seeing how her wetness dripped down on her thigh.

“P- Please? I’m sorry, do you want me to beg? I- I can beg miss, if you want.” Y/n held onto his tied up hands while slowly lowering herself down into his mouth.

Letting out a sigh when his mouth came in contact with her heat, “You’re so good baby, fuck. I’m thinking bout forgiving you.”

Moaning into her cunt, he lapped up all of her juices, savouring the taste. She barely let him eat her out, and if this made her forgive him. Jonny would do anything.

The man was great with his mouth, playing with her clit with his tongue. “Mhmm, make me cum Jonny.”

Her hands tangled into his hair, her sharp nails scratching against his scalp making him groan loudly. He was so close, she didn’t even know.

Jonny let Y/n rub herself onto his face, using him for her own pleasure.

Her legs trembled and she lost balance, sitting directly onto his face. Jonathan did his best, sucking up every single drop she let go, his whimpers being muffled underneath her.

“Wow little Jonny, y- you’re actually useful for something.” She stood up, and got off the bed, not bothering to look at the man tied up.

When she did though, a laugh erupted from her. She kept going, the sound of her giggling made him feel small; humiliated.

“How embarrassing Jonathan.” He didn’t wanna look her in the face.

“I’m sorry.” The man sounded so embarrassed, oh how she loved that. “You wanna do it again? I think you can baby.”

He shook his head, he hated when she overstimulated him. “No, no. I said I’m sorry, c’mon? It hurts.”

While crawling up onto the bed towards him she smirked, her pearly whites making his heart jump.

“But I like when you hurt. Don’t you wanna make miss happy?” He didn’t wanna nod, and he didn’t wanna shake his head no.

Her nails scratched into his skin, red lines making their mark.

When her hand wrapped around the base of his cock, he couldn’t help but let out a grunt, his eyes rolling back.

“Lets do it again, yeah?”

xoxo, liah

#dom reader #sub character #dom!reader #sub!jonathan crane #cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x reader #black fem reader #black!fem!reader

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caesariawritesstuff · 6 months ago

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Ok I'm sorry but I have to do this! Is there anyway we could get a small continuation of that Scarecrow x Detective short story you wrote? Maybe how Ed would react to hearing that Jonathan did something to the Detective? Or just noticing her acting off afterward? If not that is 100% ok!

Precious Heart

Summary: After learning about Detective's conversation with Jonathan Crane, Edward isn't too happy, and makes an effort to confront Crane himself. Continuation of the short fic, Damaged Goods.

Content Warning: Angst & Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Minor spoilers for Cat & Mouse

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This fic is a continuation of Damaged Goods, and currently not canon to the official Cat&Mouse!Verse storyline.

Right about now, you could scream.

The sensation lingered in the back of your throat, building and building as you stormed down the hall from the morgue. Rage rushed through you as hot as dry lightning, sparking a fire deep in your belly – and a strange, lingering warmth between your legs.

Because here you were, suddenly turned on by Jonathan Crane.

Scowling, you threw a glance over your shoulder as you stopped in front of the elevator, glaring back down the hall. Bastard, you thought, a dozen curses ringing through your mind. How dare he put his hands on you? Slowly, you reached up, your fingers grazing across the question mark pendant dangling around your neck, resting at the delicate hollow of your throat. You could not believe the interaction that just happened, and you found yourself replaying it over and over again in your head, on repeat, a never-ending loop.

If there was one person in this damn precinct who had become an anomaly to you, it was Jonathan Crane. Never had you expected a man like him to be given a chance at reform as well, especially considering the fact that he’d caused so much chaos and destruction three years ago – but you supposed you could understand why City Council would want him to help on this case. Even you and Mack were completely and utterly stumped, out of your minds about who else in this damn city could be developing a horrifying toxin capable of melting people’s bodies from inside out. The thought sent a tremor of fear through you – and you cursed yourself under your breath again, at the very prospect of being afraid. Because deep down, you knew that’s exactly what Crane wanted you to be: scared. Fearful. Terrified. And you would not give him that satisfaction; you’d been through enough in the last few months, and you were not willing to let the Master of Fear get under your skin.

With a heavy sigh, you took the elevator back up the Homicide Divisions floor, but as the numbers ticked by as slow as ever, you caught a glimpse of your reflection on the wall: your wide eyes, flushed cheeks, the small pout to your lips. A strange sensation bubbled in your stomach, hot and writhing, causing an uncomfortable knot to form there. You had not expected the entire interaction with Crane to be…heated. Or for him to have such an effect on you, one you weren’t even sure you were even processing clearly. All you really knew was that that familiar pulsing of warmth throbbed in your clit, and it had been caused by a man who was, perhaps, one of the most terrifying people you’d ever met.

There had been something cold in his blue eyes, even though the right was damaged and milky, but the way he looked at you – studied you from head to toe as if you were a science experiment – wasn’t what bothered you. Neither did the white scars all across his skin, remnants of his reconstructed face, a stark change to the man who was hauled into the GCPD three years ago, completely out of his own mind on fear toxin. What bothered you was how easily he’d approached you, grasping at the pendant around your neck with care, asking you such blasé questions about your relationship with Edward. Questions even you had asked yourself over the last few months – because Crane was right. You did not know what a man like Edward Nigma had come to see you in, why he’d fallen for you, and Crane’s questions only furthered your own. But what you could not understand was why he cared so much to ask them – and why he seemed so content to believe you were ruined for anyone else, all because Edward had touched you, lied with you, had claimed you as his own. You were not ruined, and you would not let Jonathan Crane or anyone else think otherwise.

“Bastard,” you mumbled under your breath again as the doors opened and you stepped out, taking a quick glance around at the detectives and officers milling about. The room was buzzing with voices and chatter, phones ringing off the hook, you quickly made your way back to your desk, sitting down with a heavy sigh. You lowered your face into your hands, pain throbbing at your skull, spreading across your temples.

Shit. This wasn’t good – you should not let Crane be getting under your skin like this, or feel so…well, you weren’t sure what you were feeling right about now. Rage. Irritation. Annoyance. Pleasure.

Crap. The way he’d circled around you, a predator analyzing its prey, the way he’d grasped your pendant and stroked it at with his fingers – something about the entire movement caused your clit to ache. What was it about men like Edward Nigma and Jonathan Crane that had you feeling such utter draw to them? Maybe you were beginning to realize that you had a type.

And, as much as you couldn’t help it, you found your thoughts beginning to wander. What would it have been like if Crane had bent you over that morgue table and had his way with you, fucking you into oblivion, his hand wrapped your throat as his cold, raspy voice whispered dirty things into your ear?

“Shit,” you whispered, but just as the words escaped your lips, a mug of coffee was set beside you. You glanced up to find Edward standing there, his own mug of coffee in hand, and he smirked at you, eyes studying you with slow intention.

“Thanks,” you said, taking the mug, but a heartbeat of guilt passed through you. You were with Edward for God’s sake – why were you thinking about another man?

Edward’s eyes narrowed, as if he immediately could sense something was wrong, and his gaze roved over you, making the skin prickle on the back of your neck. “Is something wrong, detective?”

“No, nothing,” you said quickly, the lie heavy on your tongue – but by the way Edward’s brows furrowed, you knew he didn’t believe you. Of course he didn’t. Why was he so capable of reading you? You averted your gaze, quickly taking a sip of coffee, and burned your tongue.

Edward crossed his arms. “Come now, detective,” he sighed. “Tell me what’s happened.”

You looked up and around; Mack was gone from his desk, and everyone else was far too busy involved in their own cases to be bothering to listen to you. Sighing, you gestured for Edward to sit, and he took the empty chair at the desk beside you, waiting for you to continue.

“So…Jonathan Crane is…interesting,” you finally said, choosing your words carefully.

Edward quirked a brow, leaning back in his chair. “Did he say something to you?”

You were silent for a beat, but you knew there was no point in lying. “Well...I was down in the morgue when the power went out. We had an…interesting talk.”

“About?” Something cold laced Edward’s voice, curiosity in his tone.

“My relationship with you.”

Edward was quiet for a long moment, long enough that you could tell he was thinking through every possibility that such a conversation entailed. Finally, he sighed and asked, “And what did the good doctor say?”

“He…” You looked away, biting slightly on your bottom lip as you struggled to answer his question. The last thing you wanted to do was have Edward go storming down to the morgue and throwing a fit in a jealous huff.

Finally, you looked back at him. “He just wanted to know about us. You know, how long we’d been together. That kind of thing.”

Edward blinked. His face was like stone, a passive statue of emotionless. Finally, he smiled, his grin stretching from ear to ear. “Well, can you blame him? Why wouldn’t he be curious? After all, you’re with me – the smartest, most handsome man in Gotham. It’s only natural for him to be curious about a relationship which is so great that he cannot even comprehend.”

“So great, huh?” you asked, unable to fight the smile threatening to curve at your lips.

“Of course, my dear. You’re with me, remember?” His grin didn’t faulter, but he leaned forward slightly. “And I am the best partner, the best lover, you could ever ask for. No need to deny it, detective, we both know it’s the truth.”

You rolled your eyes, a small laugh bubbling out of your chest. Well, at least his ego was still intact – you did not think that was one thing that could ever be taken away from Edward. But as you turned back to your desk, content to pour over the case files, another heartbeat of regret pounded in your stomach, spreading like wildfire through your bloodstream – but there was something else, too, something raw and real and terrifying that you did not want to admit.

Because, deep down, you knew that Jonathan Crane was right.

Edward had completely, and utterly ruined you.

If there was one thing Edward come to learn long ago, it was that Jonathan Crane was a very deliberate man. He did not ask questions without purpose, without trying to learn something about someone, without trying to find their weakness or exploits. The man was a manipulative bastard, but he supposed he could say the same about himself. Perhaps that’s why they got along so well over the years. While Edward had often found himself at odds with the likes of Penguin and Two-Face, it was Jonathan whom he retained the closest thing to a friendship.

So having him here at the GCPD was quite the surprise – one that had even Edward questioning Jonathan’s own motivations for why he would accept a similar deal from City Council. But so far, Edward had been far too busy with his own tasks to find a moment to slip down to the forensics lab and have a moment to speak alone with Jonathan – until now.

A knot of uncertainty bundled in Edward’s stomach. It had been clear that you’d been hiding something from him when retelling your conversation with Crane, but Edward hadn’t pressed further – he wanted to hear the details from Crane himself. Clearly, he’d must have asked something to get under your skin. Probably some silly thing about fear or terror or whatever else Jonathan found so interesting, but Edward hadn’t wanted to press you too hard on the matter, not when you’d looked so shaken up. So as he walked down the hall and slipped into the medical examiner’s office, he narrowed his eyes, immediately finding Crane sitting at counter, filled with vials in an array of colors, lab equipment organized neatly around him. Dr. Collins was gone, thankfully, allowing Edward the privacy he needed, and he stepped into the room.

Jonathan swiveled around in his chair, his mouth opening slightly as if to ask something, but he quickly shut it when he realized it was Edward standing there. His cold eyes were narrowed, stoic, not an inch of emotion written across his face.

“Crane,” Edward said, stepping further into the room.

“Ah, Edward,” Jonathan said, his voice gravelly, cold, a raspiness to it. “I was wondering when you’d honor me with your presence.”

Edward smirked, but wandered over with slow, calculated steps. “Oh, you know,” he said with a lazy wave of his hand. “The Commissioner just loves to keep me busy. I hardly get a moment to myself in this place.”

Jonathan turned back to his vials, humming under his breath. “It must pain someone with such intelligence like yourself to be reduced to working in a place like this.”

Edward shrugged, but leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, only a foot away from where Jonathan worked. “It has its perks,” he said, his thoughts straying to you. You were the only reason this place was bearable in any capacity.

Jonathan’s cold gaze slid to him once more. “Ah, yes. Your…paramour. I take it she told you about our conversation?”

A muscle feathered in Edward’s jaw, and he met Crane’s gaze. “No. But I’m here to hear it out of your own mouth, Crane. What exactly did you say to her?”

Jonathan shrugged in indifference, once more turning back to the chemicals at hand, making a few notes on a pad of paper. “I was simply curious to the nature of her relationship with you. I’ve never known you to take interest in such primal desires, Edward. What is it about her that fascinates you so?

Edward frowned. There were many, many things that fascinated him about you – the way you carried yourself, spoke, the fire that burned so brightly in your soul that refused to dim, considering all that happened over the last few months. The way you tolerated him, laughed at what he said, gave yourself to him so wholly and completely. The problem wasn’t the answer to the question – the problem was why Jonathan wanted to know.

“What does it matter to you, Crane?” Edward asked, his voice low, concerned. Because he knew when Crane became fascinated with something, fixated on it, he would not let it go.

And if he was becoming fascinated with you…

Jonathan turned back to him again. His scarred lips were pursed into a thin line, but he finally set his pen down and rested his hands on his knees, leaning slightly back in his chair. “I’m simply curious, is all, Edward.”

“She’s not some science experiment you can pick apart,” Edward said, his tone testing.

Jonathan blinked at him, as if what Edward said hadn’t phased him at all. “You care quite a bit for her, Edward,” he said finally after drawing out the silence for a long moment.

Edward shifted slightly, gritting his teeth. “And? Your point?”

“An observation. You and I both know she’s simply your newest obsession, Edward. What will happen when you tire of her?”

Edward’s eyes narrowed into slits, and he frowned, staring down at Crane as hot anger pooled in his stomach, prickling across his skin. Yes, he knew the truth: you were his obsession. The thing he needed, wanted, craved at all hours of the day. But he did not imagine he would ever tire of you. You were like a drug to him, his addiction. And the truth was that he had come to a point where he could not imagine the rest of his life without you in it.

“Or, perhaps, when she tires of you?” Jonathan continued.

“An absurd insinuation,” Edward said, a bite in his voice now. How could you ever tire of him? He was the World’s Greatest Everything. There was not a universe in which you could ever tire of him, Edward was sure of that.

“Come now, Edward,” he said. “No need to be so testy. However, I’ve heard the rumors. People around here like to talk. I know what they call her, what they think of her. When you do tire of her, when you’ve thoroughly ruined her for anyone else in this city to want – what will she do then?”

Edward bristled, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. “I don’t see why that’s any concern of yours, Crane,” he said, but his lips twisted in a smirk. “Why? Does it bother you that someone like her would be with someone like me?”

A flame ignited in Edward’s belly, a sick satisfaction twisting there. Of course Crane had to be jealous of his relationship with you. After all, Edward was just that much smarter, much more handsome, much more great. Crane could not compare to him one bit. Edward was everything and better – and he planned to hold that over the man’s head at every turn.

“Not at all,” Jonathan finally answered. “She is your paramour. You do what you like with her. All I intended was to get to know her, understand why a detective like her would with someone like you.”

Edward bristled at Jon’s words, crossing his arms tighter over his chest. “Well, Crane, my capacity for self-improvement has grown well beyond what you’re capable of. Watch and learn, and you’ll be just fine.” He smirked at that, a sense of triumph racing through his chest.

“Of course, Edward,” Jonathan said, his voice low and cold. “You are this city’s picture of reform. I will do my best to follow in your footsteps.”

Edward’s smirk grew. “Good. I need to get back to work. Have fun with your chemicals, Crane. Try not to sniff your own toxin too much.” He turned on his heels, giving Jonathan a lazy wave, and headed back down the hall with confidence in his step.

But as he walked, his steps began to slow, and uncertainty twisted in his stomach. Now that he was alone in the silence, Crane’s words began to wash over him. His mind was spinning with questions, wondering why Crane would bother talking to you in the first place – and just what else he might have said that you could be hiding from him. Well, he’d just have to keep a careful eye on Crane, then. Whatever was brewing in the man’s mind, Edward intended to find out. But if it involved you…

Edward’s hands curled into fists. Crane could find you fascinating all he liked, but he would not allow you to become an experiment in his twisted little world of fear. He refused to let that happen – and if Crane asked you one more question that was out of line, Edward would not hesitate to put Crane in his place. If Crane was planning to use his toxin on you, Edward would shove his own toxin in his mouth before he had that chance.

Oh, yes, Edward was certain of that.

Crane could have his fun in any other way that did not involve you. Because, Edward knew with absolute certainty, he would not allow another man to swoop in and take your attention from him. You were his, and his alone, and Crane would just have to accept that you were with a man like him. He could speculate and theorize all he wanted, but Edward would not allow Crane to get under your skin, to make you question your relationship with him. Not when he finally had you, when he held your heart in his hands.

And he would not allow Crane’s ability to incite fear poison your precious heart.

#caesariawrites #also anon please don't apologize!#i am more than happy to write any prompts with these three idiots lol #the riddler #edward nigma #arkham riddler #arkhamverse riddler #arkham scarecrow #scarecrow #scarecrow x you #scarecrow x yn #scarecrow x reader #edward nygma x reader #edward nigma x y/n #edward nigma x you #arkham edward nigma #edward nigma x reader #Cat&Mouse!Verse

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elena-mayfair · 1 year ago

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Running toward danger

Paring: Paring: Batman/Bruce Wayne x f!reader, Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane x f!reader Genre: Thriller, mystery, with elements of slow-burn romance Warnings: rating M, Explicit content!, NSFW!, strong language, graphic violence, themes of depression Summary: The last thing he wanted to do was leave her alone in his company. But Sunday's incident did not bring him any closer and Y/N was proving more and more every day to be his biggest clue and perhaps his best chance to expose him. He had to take that risk. He had to push aside his feelings for the greater good. He had to act quickly and discreetly. He had to find hard evidence that he could use against him before it was too late before Y/N becomes his next victim. But for now, he had no choice but to hope that after the failed attack Crane would be cautious that, if necessary, Y/N would activate the transmitter he had given her. That he was not making a mistake. Word count: 16.6k Note: Some gifs are not mine, credit to the authors.

Series masterlist

Disclaimer: The following chapter contains an explicit smut scene! Reader discretion is advised.

"Shouldn't you be at home resting?" Bruce asked opening your office door wider and glancing inside, "can I come in?"

"Sure!" you smiled looking out from behind the computer screen, "I'm fine. I told you I don't need sick leave."

"And I'm telling you for the third day in a row that I'd rather you take a few days off," he replied, leaving the door slightly open behind him as he was in the habit of doing. He walked over to you and, while placing a mug of aromatic coffee on your desk, asked, "Why are you so stubborn?"

"A manufacturing defect," you smirked, as you reached for the hot beverage, "I appreciate your concern, but you won't make me." Even his charming smile and compelling dominance couldn't keep you at home. Locked inside your four walls you were losing your mind as intrusive thoughts returned time and again replaying images from the past few days. Fear of what you can do, guilt over what you have done, confusion, a feeling of powerlessness, enchantment, a fleeting feeling of happiness, an unstoppable desire to escape. All of them fought for control, tried to determine your next step, drove you to the brink of insanity. You could escape from them at work, working was a distraction at least until Bruce wasn't around.

"I noticed," he smiled then pulled a chair over so he could sit next to you.

Wednesday evening was slowly descending over Gotham. Heavy, rainy clouds loomed in the darkening sky, dimming the cool glow of the setting sun. The pale, cold sun had long since hidden behind the horizon, taking with it a touch of autumn warmth, shrouding the city in a familiar mystical veil. Just as the setting sun took with it the warmth of the day, the approaching evening brought with it the anticipated comfort, the comfort of his gaze that seemed to watch over you every evening. So it was that day and each that came after Sunday. Monday morning dawned with a smile on your face when a message full of concern appeared on your phone screen suggesting that you should stay home instead of going to work. You refused, which led him to your office in the evening hours. Bruce Wayne, although absent for most of the day, seemed to be always nearby, watching attentively. He maintained a slight distance, but his eyes betrayed more than he may have intended. You were learning about him, studying him while conclusions and assumptions formed on their own. Bruce was a man of action. Determined, confident, insanely intelligent, and yet cautious. You could only assume that if he decided to take one step, he didn't plan to wait long for the next one, let alone back down. His constant presence kept building confidence in you with each passing day. Always close, yet so far away from you. Always charming, always composed, a perfect gentleman. You couldn't help but admire the professionalism he displayed in the office. The door was always left ajar, physical contact was almost non-existent, while only his gaze seemed to be touching your soul, looking longingly at you as he silently built tension between you. He was driving you crazy with that deep voice of his that seemed to pierce you to the core, that gaze that seemed to look into the deepest corners of your mind, and that infuriating, barely visible smile. So you tried, you tried your best to stay calm and relaxed as he came closer to you. You tried so hard to match his level of professionalism, but his mere presence was enough to trigger thoughts you shouldn't have in the office. It was enough that he came close enough for you to smell his perfume again, to ignite still lingering memories, to recall the touch of his lips on yours, the closeness of his body against yours, the words he whispered in your ear as you twirled together in a dance. Some part of you screamed: "Fuck professionalism!!! Fuck the cameras, fuck the possibility of being noticed! Don't hesitate!!! I won't either!" But although he seemed to be getting closer every day, he didn't make another move forward, and you certainly weren't going to urge him to do so. Instead, every evening you replayed in your mind that brief moment when you felt safe when you felt that perhaps the fairy tale didn't have to come to an end after all, those magical moments of the past few days. You couldn't lie to yourself, even though you knew you shouldn't, you were falling in love. And that feeling was more frightening than any other.

Yet, the brief moments of delight and excitement did not last long. Once Bruce disappeared, reality began to take on much darker shades. Overwhelming feelings, fear, anger, doubt, moments of enchantment that disappeared as quickly as they appeared, only to plunge you back into the endless darkness of reality and your own intrusive thoughts. Monday brought distress, as once again your own decisions led you to the Gotham City police precinct to give a statement. Tuesday brought frustration and anger as you were denied the opportunity to see and talk to Harleen at Arkham Asylum. As the days went by, you became more and more anxious and fearful, walking the streets of Gotham and clasping your hand on the bat-shaped transmitter, ready to press it at the first sight of anyone who even slightly resembled the Joker. The nights brought restless dreams, lucid nightmares, evoking images that awakened in you a sense of guilt, and regret for striving so hard to remember them. At night you wished you had never remembered. Only the evenings brought that brief moment of calm and comfort. That fleeting moment when you felt good. For every evening when you glanced into his blue eyes you found something different in them, something unfamiliar, warm and inviting, surrounding you with a sense of safety within which you longed to disappear. But a quiet voice whispering words of doubt wouldn't let you. Bruce was a good man, an honest man, a man who invited you into his life, while you gave him nothing but lies and secrets which you could not reveal.

You did not talk much at all about the events of the past few days, which in itself seemed surprising. Bruce didn't ask, and you couldn't shake the feeling that he was waiting for you to bring up the subject. You didn't know how. You didn't know how you were supposed to open this pandora's box and start explaining, how you should open up to him and not lose his affection in the process. And even though his behavior reassured you that he wasn't going anywhere, you couldn't stop thinking that he would disappear as quickly as he appeared, once you told him, once he understood how broken you truly were. He would disappear and take away the warmth of his eyes, the touch of his hand, and the taste of his lips. He would take away all that and the fairy tale would be over for good.

"The wound is healing quickly," his hand brushed gently over your shoulder lifting the sleeve of your blouse, bringing with it shivers on your skin, "I'll pick you up tomorrow morning, we'll drive to the hospital to take out the stitches."

"I still can't believe you made me go to the hospital."

"Don't you think it's ridiculous to think that a knife wound, ten stitches long, would heal on its own?"

"It would heal," you replied stubbornly.

"Y/N… don't be unreasonable."

"I hate hospitals. Even Batman couldn't make me go to the hospital."

"You hate hospitals but you still went to Arkham," he pointed out, "by yourself."

"I didn't want to bother you," you replied and he only sighed quietly, "I wanted to see her. To make sure she was doing well. Given the circumstances."

"You don't trust him?"

"Who? Batman?" he nodded in confirmation, "I don't know…" you continued, "I trust him. I think so. But I don't know him. I wonder if anyone knows him. Gotham's Mysterious Guardian, emerging from the shadows when you least expect it. It's hard to trust someone you don't know."

"You said he promised you."

"Because he did," you confirmed, "I wanted to make sure. I wanted to see her. But they won't let me in. They're holding her in Extreme Isolation! Maybe you could do something? I'm sorry for asking you this, but I'm convinced you have the connections that would get me permission to visit Harleen."

"Y/N, Arkham is a dangerous place," he began softly, "it's not a good idea for you to visit Arkham."

"I know, but I'd still like to get there. I'd like to see her," you lowered your gaze sadly, "I know she's done terrible things, and in everyone's eyes and probably yours as well, she's an insane criminal, but to me, she's just my friend. Whom I could not help…" You raised your eyes again only to meet the implacable depths of his blue eyes fixed on you. "I keep thinking that I should have noticed that there was something wrong with her earlier. That maybe if I had come to Gotham earlier, maybe if I hadn't hesitated so long to renew contact, maybe if I hadn't been so focused on myself…" he listened silently as his eyes watched with understanding, "maybe I could have done something, reacted earlier. Maybe if I had been there for her when I should have been everything would have turned out very differently."

"You shouldn't blame yourself for what happened," he mused quietly.

"And yet I can't help but wonder what if," you replied grimly, "so if there's even a small chance that you can get me a pass to Arkham, it would really mean a lot to me."

"I'm afraid even I don't have the power to make it possible for you," he replied but seeing your disappointed look he added, "but I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you," you smiled gratefully and, not thinking much, kissed him on the cheek. For a moment you both froze in suspense when your lips accidentally got too close to his. You pulled away hastily as your cheeks flared with a blush.

"I'm sorry," you gasped in embarrassment.

"Don't be," he smirked and your heart skipped a beat, "I do not promise anything," he emphasized.

"I understand. But I appreciate you trying," you replied with a smile.

"It's the least I can do, after all that's happened."

"About that…" you began tentatively, "you have no idea how grateful I am for your understanding, for not pressuring me, for being so caring…"

"I sense 'but' coming…"

"But I think I'm beginning to strain your patience," you continued.

"Believe me, you're far from it," he replied softly, "although I won't lie, the questions are piling up."

"I am aware of that," you admitted, "and I know that seeing me with a gun in my hand chasing after Harley Quinn doesn't help."

"I don't think this is a good place to have that kind of conversation," he interrupted you, "I will be out of town on business since Saturday but Friday is a good day to have dinner together," he once again decided instead of proposing.

"Bruce, I'm sorry but I'm not ready to be in Twitter and Instagram feeds again," you quipped then, not believing your own words, added, "but maybe we could meet at my place? I'd cook something and we could talk in private."

"You cook?" he smirked.

"Why do you look surprised! Of course, I cook!" you replied, amused as with his smile all your stress disappeared, "what, because I'm a woman, an engineer, single, that means I probably live on Door Dash, huh?" you sassed.

"I didn't say that."

"I may not cook to the standard of a Michelin Star restaurant, but I'm sure you won't complain."

"That honestly sounds wonderful Y/N and I'd love to have dinner with you in the comfort of your home," his eyes shone intensely.

"Then it's settled! In that case, I'll come to work in the morning on Friday so I can have the afternoon off. Jonathan is being released from the hospital. I want to pick him up," you immediately regretted mentioning his name. Another lie surfaced along with the reckless words. To Bruce, Jonathan was simply your friend, when you knew full well that his intentions were quite the opposite. "What am I doing?"

"Did you get a chance to see him since Sunday?"

"No, I didn't," you admitted, trying to hide a growing feeling of discomfort. Too much had happened that evening, too many things had been said, things Bruce had no idea about. "I went to visit him on Monday after work but I was not allowed in. Jonathan didn't want any visitors."

"You know how it is, if he has the same aversion to hospitals as you do, he probably didn't want you to see him hooked up to monitors and with a bandage on his head."

"He's the head of the psychiatric ward! Somehow I can't imagine doing that job and having an aversion to hospitals," you scoffed, "anyway, I haven't seen him. We only exchanged a few messages."

"Raincheck then? If you prefer," he offered kindly but his words did not reflect in his eyes.

"Another one?" you chuckled, "if we keep this up, the list of rainchecks will be full by next year!"

"That would mean we'll have plans for next year," the corner of his lips lifted again in a shadowy smile.

"Glass half full huh?" you tried to contain your excitement at the implication of his words, "no, no, no. I'll make it work. I'll get off work early, if Mister Fox won't mind of course, I'll pick up Jonathan and drive him home, make sure he doesn't need anything, do some grocery shopping, wrap everything up and I'll have the evening free."

"I could help if you would like. Alfred could go grocery shopping instead of you," Bruce suggested.

"Thank you, but I'd rather do it myself. I don't have many friends, I can't afford to piss off another one. Eight o'clock sounds good?"

"Sounds very good."

***

The only moment when Bruce's mind was free of intrusive thoughts was the moment of the fight. That moment when thoughts completely silenced allowing his body to take over. During combat, thoughts were an obstacle, a distraction, during combat there was no need for thinking. All that mattered was action and reaction, trusting the senses, relying on instincts. Dodge, strike, undercut and one opponent fell. Strike, dodge, grab and throw and another lost consciousness. The third one got smarter, the third one started to run away. Running away blindly from the menacing shadow that attacked them without warning. Still, the attempt to run away was pointless. A swift move, a shot, and a small grappling hook flew out with a high velocity towards the fleeing man, catching his legs and knocking him to the ground.

"Okay okay, man! You won!" the man exclaimed raising his hands defensively, "what do you want!?"

He gave him no answer. Perhaps he could, perhaps he would get the information he wanted. Yet, 'perhaps' was not enough for him. He had to have certainty. He had to have him scared. He remained silent approaching him with a heavy, calm step, he didn't even pull the line. He didn't have to.

"Oh god," the man cried still on the ground, "I don't know anything! I swear!" he tried to get up but a batarang thrown exactly an inch from his hand stopped him in place, "I swear!"

Everyone swore. They all lied in fear of him. Each equally naive, each sooner or later revealed the truth. All of them only needed the right persuasion.

His shadow slowly obscured the light of the lantern as he stood over him, grabbed him by his jacket, and lifted him off the ground at eye level. The man's feet hovered in the air.

"Who hired you," he asked in a grave tone, "who do you work for?"

"I don't know! I swear I don't know anything!" the man struggled in his grip.

"Who organized the attack?"

"It was the Joker! The Joker!"

"Don't make me hurt you," he threatened grimly, "there were ten of you. Seven in the building, three on the lookout. Did the Joker pay you to tip him off or did he threaten to murder you all?"

"Man, you're reaching! We weren't there! We work for Penguin!" the man defended himself, "I wouldn't lie to you! I'm not an idiot!"

"We'll see," he muttered then launched a grappling hook at the roof and pulled himself to the top ignoring the man's terrified screams.

Grabbing him by the leg, he dragged him to the edge of the roof then extended his hand and held him head down a hundred feet above the ground.

"Talk."

"Oh god, oh god! I can't! He's going to kill me! Or worse!" the man cried out pathetically.

"Do I look like I care?"

"Please! I don't know anything!" he begged.

"There are twenty-six bones in your leg that I can break," a terrified scream broke from the man's throat, "Talk."

"'Okay! Okay! I'll talk! Just pull me back!"

"I'm waiting."

"We've been working for Joker the whole time! For Joker! Me and those two downstairs! We were meant to tip him off when the other guy would be preparing an attack! Joker wanted to humiliate him in public, he wanted to piss him off because the other one robbed him! He wanted to provoke him!"

"Who delivered the bombs?"

"I don't know! I swear I don't know!"

"My arm is getting tired."

"I don't know! Seriously! I don't know! We never met him! Communication happened over the phone! The payment came in cash! Picked up from the safety deposit box on 8th Avenue!"

"Number."

"892! 892! Come on man! Pull me in!"

"How were the bombs delivered?"

"Container at the docks! Cape Carmine!"

"It's the Falcone district. Why there?"

"I don't know! We were supposed to find a container with a scarecrow painted on it! Inside were bombs and exact instructions! That's all I know! Pull me in, man!" the man pleaded desperately, "I told you what I know!"

"I know you did," Batman stated grimly then pulled him onto the roof and with a single punch rendered him unconscious.

He lowered himself to the ground again, tied him up with the others, sent a message to Grodon about a pickup waiting for him at the Bowery, then launched his grappling hook toward the rooftops once again and rose into the air.

The transmitter had been sending a signal for several minutes, a transmitter that was directing him toward the bridge leading to Gotham North. He didn't need to think, he's been thinking far too much over the past few days anyway, he knew who he would find there. "Why did she turn it on? What did she get herself into this time?"

He had not seen her for a long time under the cover of darkness when his face was hidden behind a mask when his shape was concealed by dark shadows when he could truly be himself. He scoffed under his breath, realizing the holes in his own logic, catching on to the next taller building to soar high above them. With her by his side, he was always himself. Day by day she unknowingly revealed the carefully hidden corners of his soul the ones he thought he would never see again. All it took was for her to be close for the smile to affect his face. He couldn't remember the last time he had smiled so much. It felt good. As if the sparkle of her shining eyes and the warmth of her melodic voice were slowly melting his ice-covered heart. He had given up plans to stay away from her, it seemed impossible and he didn't want that at all. He wanted to help her, to get to the truth, to get to know her, to find answers to the questions that plagued him, and perhaps, perhaps find the courage within himself to let her into his life.

He landed softly on the roof and saw her in the same place where she was then, this time sitting on the edge with her legs swinging carelessly in the air. A coffee cup was waiting for him next to her. He approached without a word, picked up the cup wrapped in a thermic cover, and sat down next to her.

"Nice gesture," he said taking a sip of still hot coffee.

"I thought you might be busy," she replied, "I didn't want it to get cold. The nights are getting colder."

"I told you not to use the transmitter needlessly," he didn't want to be harsh and yet the suit imposed a tone.

"You give me a number I can call and I'll rethink my methods," she sassed, "I wanted to talk. If you have time of course."

"I'm here aren't I?" interest piqued.

"You are…" she sighed pensively and gazed at the city lights on the horizon, "you always appear when I need you. Why?"

"I have my reasons."

"You watch over everyone you saved like this?

"Most don't get notoriously into trouble."

"Fair enough."

"What you did was brave but extremely foolish," he alluded to the Sunday events, "my people would have handled it."

"Nightwing was occupied by Joker, Red Robin was dealing with goons, Robin disappeared from my sight and you were not there," she replied casually but it didn't escape his attention that she remembered their names, "I saw her run away. She already escaped once, because of me. I had to do something."

"As I said, brave but foolish," he repeated then added, "you shouldn't blame yourself for her escape last time. You meant well, you wanted to help her. You made the best possible decision at that moment."

"I didn't think you were so understanding," she smiled weakly at him, " still, I can't help but think that if I didn't get involved then everything would have turned out quite differently. That maybe if I had reacted earlier, arrived in Gotham earlier, none of this would have happened," she said quietly.

"There's no point in thinking about what might have happened if we had acted differently," even though she couldn't know it, he said what he wanted to tell her earlier. "Are you alright?"

"Mentally, I could be better," she replied, "physically, I'm okay. The knife wound, no big deal," she shrugged, "I'm going to get the stitches removed tomorrow."

"Since when is a knife wound no big deal?"

"Since my life turned into a continuous string of bizarre events," she replied. "How is she?"

"Safe."

"You placed her in Arkham," she frowned.

"Despite popular belief, it's the best place I could place her. The best specialists in the country work there," he explained, "it was either Arham or Black Gate. Trust me, Arkham is the better option."

"I'd like to see her."

"Out of the question," he shouldn't have given her false hope earlier.

"Why? Somehow you had no problem taking me to Arkham before!" she snapped at him.

"I had reasons for doing so," he replied sternly, "Arkham is not a place to visit."

"Batman, she's still my friend," she looked into his concealed under cowl eyes. He watched her. "I would like to talk to her."

"About?"

"I have my reasons," she snarled coldly. The coldness didn't suit her, the sternness and hard stare looked somehow out of place. And yet, he couldn't stop observing with fascination.

"You ask for help but in return, you offer not even an explanation," he countered.

"I'm not asking," she corrected him, "besides, it's not like you're particularly open. People around me seem to be like that," she scoffed, "are you even human?" he remained unmoved, "forget that I asked."

"What do you need to talk to Quinzel about?" he continued. Y/N merely sighed with resignation, gazed into the bay and began.

"During the gala, she said something I can't stop thinking about," she said with a single breath, "she said I should look at the company I choose for myself and the people I seek help from before I start judging her." She looked at him as if looking for an explanation, a clue that would help her understand. He remained silent merely watching as single drops of approaching rain glittered in her hair. He may have had his suspicions, but they were still only suspicions. Without evidence, there was nothing he could do. Without evidence, he couldn't protect her, because what if he was wrong? "Given that my so-called company isn't particularly extensive, I only have three people to choose from. You, my former therapist and Bruce Wayne," she continued, "of which I can cross you out right away. Somehow I don't think she meant you when she talked about the company. Which leaves me with a choice between Bruce Wayne and my psychiatrist."

"Bruce Wayne, huh?" curiosity took over him.

"Don't pretend you haven't seen it," she snarked, "the pictures went viral all over the internet."

"I have seen."

"But somehow Bruce doesn't fit that comment to me either," she sighed in reflection, "why him? What could she possibly have against him?"

"Wayne is a public figure and Wayne Enterprises funds the GCPD," he noted, "Wayne Tech's plans for improving the city don't align with the criminal activities of people like Joker."

"No, that's not it…" a single flash of lightning brightened her pensive face, "you should have seen her. It was as if she was pointing out my own hypocrisy when I said that the Joker is a murderer and a psychopath. Bruce doesn't fit that comment. Bruce is a good man, a truly good man. There is care, kindness, and compassion in him." A strange feeling of warmth spread inside him. He couldn't remember the last time someone had spoken of him with such affection.

"You say that as if it's a problem," he noted when sadness took over her eyes.

"I'm not a good person, Batman…" a murmur of thunder followed her words. "I'm not."

"Every time we meet you try to do something for others, to help the other. And yet you say of yourself that you are not a good person," she looked at him with hopeful eyes, "I know that the Wayne Tech plans are your initiative. How can you say that, then?"

"How do you know?"

"I make it my business to know," he replied sternly, "you didn't answer my question."

"You don't know me," she suspended her gaze on him, "I don't know if I even know myself. Fragments of what I know do not add up to an image of a good person."

"You can tell me," he watched raindrops running down her face, a phantom of impending tears. A storm was hanging in the air.

"I don't know where I would begin…"

"The night is still young," he encouraged, "we have time."

"You think that's how it works? You say two words and I'll start sharing with you?" she glared in his direction but he remained unfazed. The mask hid any glimpse of emotion. It hid his curiosity, it hid his worry.

"Is there any other reason you wanted to meet me in the middle of the night?" he asked as another flash of lightning cut through the sky.

"Maybe I just like the company of mysterious grumps," she snarled back.

"If you say so," he took a sip of coffee and gazed at the city on the horizon. Somewhere in the distance, a siren sounded. A moment later, a second followed. His intercom was silent. He was silent. He waited. He could see the anger eating her up from the inside, the emotions raging inside her as she tried to decide whether or not to open up to him. Nervously, she reached into her pocket, most likely for a hidden pack of cigarettes, but after a second thought, she resigned, took a sip of coffee, then another, then rested her elbows on her knees and leaned forward, too far toward the edge. His arm shot toward her automatically, stopping in front of her. She only smiled and meekly leaned back.

"Fine," she sighed, "my coming to Gotham was meant to be a new beginning, the start of a new and better life," she began quietly, "I was running away, but I don't know from what. I wanted to leave the past behind but I didn't know what kind of past. I only knew that I had to move forward. Something was missing. There were feelings, fear, anxiety, anger…"

He listened in silence, watching as she slowly removed her mask cautiously revealing herself.

"It was as if a part of me was missing," she continued, "as if someone had erased the last three, maybe four years of my life from my mind," she looked at him. Her eyes shone in the darkness, she wanted to trust him, she needed to trust him.

"You can trust me."

"Trust is not my strong suit."

"That makes two of us."

"Why do I keep getting the feeling that you know more than I think you do?" she mused suspiciously, "do you, Batman? Do you know more than you let on?"

"As I said, I make my business to know," he replied calmly, "but don't worry. You continue to be a mystery." She smiled in response encouraged by his words and continued.

"I am convinced that whoever messed with my head did it on purpose…" she hesitated for a moment, " you know, I didn't know about your existence. I didn't know about anything! How, living in today's world, can you not know about the existence of people like you? Everyone was surprised that someone could move to Gotham so willingly, and I couldn't understand why. Now I know. Gotham is a truly remarkable place. A city where the Killer Croc lives in the sewers, maniacal clowns, gangsters and psychopaths run the streets, and the Dark Knight rises above the rooftops," her gaze rested on him once again, "I didn't even notice when I started remembering things. I think it was when, while being with Bruce in Metropolis, I didn't react to the name Superman or Flash. Yes… I began to remember. Jonathan and his practices…" she frowned, "it helped me reach those parts of my memory that were supposed to be erased, you triggered them, and Bruce helped my head to clear."

"Clear?"

"I'm sure he didn't exactly realize what he was doing, but he encouraged me to give away the pills that Doctor Crane recommended to me," she explained, "from that moment on, everything became sort of clearer. There is something off about him…"

"Wayne?"

"No, Doctor Crane," she corrected, "his practices are unusual, to say the least."

"Meaning?"

"Doctor Crane focuses heavily on fear and how fear controls a person…" she began, "he puts a person into a sort of hypnotic state and guides them through their fears. At least that's what it was like for me." The feeling of anxiety rose in him renewed and the flashing blue light on his forearm, signaling an attempted connection, did not help. Fear, fear control, unusual practices. All he needed was proof. He needed confirmation. He needed to pay him a visit.

"I understand why you asked me if I would get rid of fear if I had the opportunity," he recalled of their previous meeting ignoring the insistent call signal.

"You helped me a lot then," her eyes glimpsed in his direction. The expression of pain and sadness on her face was breaking his heart. "I didn't go back to him for another therapy session. What I already knew was enough. You, Bruce, Jonathan, you helped me without even realizing how much."

"You speak of him with affection," he asked taking advantage of the opportunity, "as of a friend."

"Because he is my friend. Maybe even more than that," she admitted. Jealousy pierced him painfully. "He was there for me when no one else was. He stood by me when I growled stubbornly as he tried to help when I got angry when he confronted me with the truth I didn't want to hear. He answered every phone call, at every hour, when nightmares and fears paralyzed me, making it difficult to function normally," she continued calmly and with every word she spoke, anger grew in him. He should be there. "Fuck! Why am I telling you all this!"

"Doctor Crane would probably say it's because people find it easier to talk to strangers than to those they hold close," he said.

"You're probably right…" she scoffed then abruptly jumped to her feet and backed away from the edge of the roof. With a quick movement, she reached into her pocket, pulled out a packet, and lit a cigarette.

His intercom kept signaling an attempted call.

"Batman, what is a Metahuman?" she asked suddenly revealing the reason she wanted to meet him. He saw what she had done even though she didn't know that. He had suspected it before even though she was unaware of it. He verified and cleared it a few days ago, but how could he tell her? How could he reveal part of the truth to her without revealing the rest? He couldn't. He wasn't ready.

"Why?"

"From what I've read, a Metahuman is someone who has so called Meta-Gene, a change in the genetic code that when activated grants powers. Some people live their entire lives without being aware of the deviation in their DNA and others, well," she smiled as he stepped closer, "others become Caped Crusaders protecting people."

"You've done a lot of reading."

"In my dreams, my visions," she stepped away from him to avoid blowing smoke in his face, "I remember the lab…." she said quietly while her whole body suddenly seemed to stiffen in paralysis as her hand paused halfway to her lips, "I remember the white lights shining straight into my eyes, bright like in operating rooms. I remember trials, tests. I remember being cut, pierced, subjected to electric shocks…" Without a word he stepped up to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. "I remember the doctors. I remember what they said, I remember them saying they wanted to get something out of me…" she looked at him as tears filled her eyes, "they laughed when I begged them to stop. They mocked when I talked about running away. They said that no one would believe me, that they would lock me up in a mental institution," her voice broke, "and now I can throw people against the wall using my will…." tears ran down her cheeks.

"I believe you," his heart was breaking but he couldn't show it to her.

"Batman…" she whispered through her tears, "I think I killed someone," she broke down, "I have blood on my hands. There was a doctor there. I remember him holding his throat as blood flooded his apron. I killed him…"

She fell apart. Crying hysterically, she wrapped her arms around his waist and cuddled her face into his chest letting all the emotions flow out of her. Letting everything she had been hiding, everything she had so meticulously kept under control, tucked away at the bottom of her mind finally come out with an uncontrollable stream of tears. He embraced her and wrapped her in his cape as if that would protect her from the pain of reality.

"I'm a fucking idiot. I delude myself that I can have a normal life, a job, a house, a loving man by my side," the crying didn't stop, "I don't deserve that. I deserve prison. No matter what I do I won't give back the lives of the people I killed," he embraced her tighter trying to calm her down but he knew it wouldn't help. She trusted him. Now she needed to let her emotions out. "Everything I touch turns to shit…" she wept into his chest, "I'm a monster…"

"I've seen monsters, Y/N," he whispered softly holding her tighter, "you're not one of them. You are their victim."

An explosion shattered the silence of the night. For a moment he thought it was the sound of thunder rolling over the city, but another one made him realize his mistake. With a heavy heart, he pushed her away from him, her teary eyes asked the question. He merely stepped back a few paces and picked up the call.

"Robin to Batman!" he heard in the receiver.

"I'm here."

"Shootout between Falcone's and Joker men in Bristol. Falcone's men attacked a police convoy. Two officers down. Nightwing and Hood are on their way."

"Don't let these three escape," he ordered, gazing at the horizon, "I'm on my way."

He cursed quietly and turned back to her.

"I have to go."

"Something's happened," composed, she calmly wiped away her tears.

"Yes," he admitted. He had to go, now. There was no time for explanations. "Call a cab and get home. Don't wander around town," he ordered before hurriedly walking to the edge of the roof ready to jump, but her words stopped him.

"I want to go with you!" she called out catching up with him, "let me go with you."

"No," dread stopped him in mid-step.

"I can help!"

"Are you trying to get yourself killed!?" he raised his voice but she stood unmoved. Anger simmered under the mask. "You keep running toward danger instead of running away from it! This is not a game! You could get hurt or worse, you could die."

"I want to help," she replied stubbornly.

"You are helping," he grabbed her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes, "you are helping where people should help! You are helping with your work, your innovations, your plans to improve the city. You are putting the company you work for on a noble track. You are raising awareness in the people of Gotham. You are helping. Let that be enough."

"I could do more," fire ignited in her eyes, "you could teach me how."

"Go home, Y/N," he ordered, "I don't want to find you following me," he warned then jumped off the roof and glided into the night.

He left her alone.

On the other side of town, Jonathan could not sleep. As he watched the raindrops running down the dirty window, he listened to the sounds of gunfire in the distance wondering if perhaps one of his hidden bombs had exploded causing the chaos. Wondering was all he did for the past few days. Locked in the hospital, under the watchful doctor's eye, he had nothing but time to think about every mistake he made. About every poorly planned step that led him to this place. Was it a mistake to hire thugs to execute part of the plan for him? Was it a mistake not to reveal himself yet and let the eventual blame fall on someone else? Was it a mistake to rely on money instead of fear for his small organization? Was it a mistake to steal the toxins that he knew full well Joker had his eye on? Was it a mistake to target civilians instead of going after those who protected them? Perhaps he should have weakened Gotham's defenses first? Strike at the police, perhaps the governing structure, perhaps even Batman and his men themselves? Perhaps he should wait longer? Perhaps he should hire serious people to work for him and not just any goons? Was it a mistake that he decided not to wait any longer, that he decided to seize the opportunity? Was it a mistake to attack Sarah Walters and let her escape? Allowing his emotions to take control when a woman who reminded him so much of Y/N walked into his office. Allowing his own anger to take control of his mind. The chances that she would lead the police to him were slim to none if her mind did not completely crumble after exposure to a more concentrated dose of his toxin. He still remained invisible. He still had time. Finally, was Y/N herself a mistake? Was it a mistake that he didn't draw her to his side? That he failed to release the darkness trapped within her so she would stand shoulder to shoulder alongside him instead of unknowingly working against him?

Nurses came and went, doctors visited him more often than he would have liked, and no amount of assurances that he was alright and didn't need constant care helped. They didn't listen, after all, "Doctor Crane may have had a concussion, he may have experienced psychosomatic disorders, Doctor Crane eats and drinks too little, Doctor Crane should know better than to refuse to talk to a psychiatrist, after all Doctor Crane is one of us and we take care of our own." But Doctor Crane was not one of them, far from it. Doctor Crane's knowledge and genius exceeded their primitive understanding of medicine, their limited academic knowledge of human bodies and minds, their narrow-minded understanding of the scientific field in which they had come to work. He looked at them while disdain grew with each passing day. He watched their inept practices while derision and hatred built up within him like layers of renewing skin that began to cover his cut forehead. He despised them all and every single one of them. He despised their mediocrity, their limited minds, their contentment with the constraints they themselves agreed to. He smiled kindly when the nurses changed the bandages, but the touch of their hands on his skin brought him nothing but disgust. He listened with feigned attention as the doctors updated him on his current condition, but their words brought him nothing but a sense of superiority. Only the thought that he would soon show them what a brilliant mind is capable of, to what limits it can push the human psyche, kept his nerves under control. The soothing vision of their faces contorted in horror, their throats torn apart from screaming brought a smile to his face, comforted him during sleepless nights. Soon everyone would see how limited they were.

The door to his room opened again but in his reverie, he couldn't care less. Another nurse, this time with fiery red hair, entered his room presumably to check his temperature, the condition of his wound, perhaps to inform him that they were planning to remove the stitches, or perhaps to finally tell him when he could leave the hospital. He only cast her a fleeting glance when the heavy thud of her shoes interrupted his musings. Haotic movements and lack of professional greeting ignited his fading hatred as he mentally added her to his list of future test subjects. Looking up at the blackened sky outside the window, anticipating the inevitable unpleasant touch of her hand on his skin, he could not help but smile at the vision of the near future.

However, the touch did not come. With a loud clatter, the nurse only dragged the chair closer to his bed and sat down without a word. The cold realization of another mistake cleared his mind.

"Hi," Joker grinned dangerously, "you look good Doc! How you've been?"

"What do you want? How did you get here?" Jonathan asked calmly. His mind was clear and his nerves were under control. The Joker didn't scare him.

"Rude," he grimaced with feigned offense. Jonathan raised himself up on his elbows wanting to level with the clown but Joker merely pulled a gun from underneath his lab coat and pointed it straight at him. "Now now, don't be hasty," he sang melodiously only to turn serious in a split second as his voice took on an icy tone, "we need to talk."

"I see you brought arguments with you," Jonathan quipped, "you have my undivided attention."

"Perfect!" he grinned, "listen, quite a number you wanted to pull off at that gala! Seriously, my respects! The whole operation so nicely organized! All the important people in one place! Oh, it would be fun if everyone started running in horror and throwing themselves at each other's throats! It would be glorious!"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"C'mon Doc! You can't fool me!" Joker waved his gun, "you can act innocent or even heroic for the cops, or maybe for my lovely runaway driver," he smiled ominously, "I know how close you two are. I wonder if she knows about your unusual activities."

"You don't know anything."

"Oh do I?" the smile didn't disappear from his face, "I know you stole my transport from the docks! I know it was you so don't try to lie. I hate liars!" he raised his voice gruffly, "I know they were used to create that wonderful gas which your people stuck all around the venue. Oh, they're dead, in case you're wondering," he quipped casually, "I know you're planning something exceptional, I just don't know if you're doing it all by yourself or if someone else is controlling the whole operation. Care to explain?"

Jonathan remained quiet, only his eyes betrayed a stilled desire to clamp his hands on the clown's throat and squeeze the life out of him.

"Doc, you don't look happy. Did I spoil your mood? Sheesh, and here I was, thinking we'd form some kind of partnership. I'd take care of my friend Bats, and you'd have a full rein to spread mayhem. Disappointing," he sniffed comically, "after all, we already share associates!"

"You're delusional," Jonathan scoffed.

"Oh, am I now?" with the agility of a predator he jumped to him and clenched his hands around his throat, "you, Doc, bring trouble. Your plans cost me my shipment! Do you know how hard it is to bribe people these days?! But you do know. Sure you know. You bought off my former men to work for you!" Joker's hands clenched tighter, "you bribed or intimidated! Like a puppy who is looking for his pack, you took what I threw away and usurped it as your own! You are creating a media fuss! You are drawing the cops' attention! They are beginning to snoop! Batman is starting to snoop! You don't want Batman snooping," the air caught in Jonathan's lungs but the Joker only squeezed tighter and, bringing his face closer to his, he growled, "she has the Bat on her shoulder. He's following her every step, watching her from the shadows. Do you think it was a coincidence that Boy Blunder and the birds appeared so quickly? There is something quite different about her that draws him in. She shoves herself everywhere, she's always where she shouldn't be, somehow always in the middle of things. And where she is she the Bat is too. And she cost me Harley!!!"

"I can take care of her," Jonathan gasped out through a clenched throat.

"You better," a low growl came from deep within the Joker, "because if you don't I'll take care of her myself. I've got my own plans and I don't need the Bat flying all over town."

"He won't."

"Stop screwing with my business or Bats will be the least of your problems," he snapped and let Jonathan go. "Well, good talk! We need to do that again soon!" he bared his teeth in a smile, "get well Doc!" he added and nonchalantly left his room leaving Jonathan alone with his anger.

***

Throughout your life you have seen many hospital corridors overcrowded with sick people, busy doctors and nurses doing what they could to provide the best possible care to patients. However, none even came close to what you found at Gotham General Hospital. Doctors left one room only to immediately head to the next, calm and composed, despite the suffering surrounding them from all sides. The nurses tried to maintain a smile on their faces and a warm tone of voice, but their eyes betrayed how many of them were on the verge of a nervous breakdown. As for the patients, they seemed to fill every available space in the hospital. Elderly people trying to fight another illness shared halls with young ones intoxicated by drugs. Young women looked disdainfully toward those who found their work on the streets, and with whom they had to share space. Accident victims and those of gang wars merged into one endless image of wounds, bruises, blood stains and cuts. Someone shouted, "I oughta butcher you! Penguin won't let it slide!", someone else dropped, "Fuck you you pathetic motherfucker! Falcone rules this city!", a mother covered her child's ears in time as the halls filled with the echo of a woman's frustration, "I may be a whore but at least the gangsters pay well and protect us from freaks!" Someone wept from one of the rooms, someone groaned in pain from another, as a doctor walked out cursing under his breath. Gotham was infected, steeped in violence to its core, and nowhere was this more apparent than in the hospitals.

If it hadn't been for Bruce walking beside you with a calm, steady step, you would have run home and removed the stitches yourself. The late night conversation with Batman left you in a somber mood and piling up guilt while the hospital environment didn't make it any easier to conceal that from him. You could only hope not to raise any suspicions. So desperately did you want to escape. Still, his towering figure filling much of the space next to you brought a strange sense of comfort. He didn't have to come here with you, truthfully you didn't even think he was willing to. And yet there he was, glancing at you time and again as if checking to see if everything was okay. He observed everything around with a stoic face and yet, you could see the pain and anger in his eyes.

"Why do you hate hospitals so much?" he asked, watching the changing expression on your face.

"Bad memories," you replied weakly then added, "I spent too much time in hospitals. I entered the hospital grounds too many times wondering if it was the last time," maybe you couldn't reveal the whole truth to him but you wanted to give him something. You might as well have reached further back in your memory. After all, the bad memories weren't just confined to the last missing years.

"They'll remove your stitches and we'll be out," as usual he didn't pressure you for which you were grateful, "a few minutes at the most."

"If it weren't for you, I probably would have pulled them out myself at home."

"Y/N! Would you really do that?"

"I would," you smiled innocently seeing his surprised look, "hospitals give me the creeps. Thank you for coming with me."

"You have nothing to thank me for," a gentle smile lifted the right corner of his lips brightening the dreadful reality surrounding you. You wished so much for that light and warmth he brought with him to stay in your life longer, but deep down you knew that he would disappear from your life as soon as he knew the truth. Pillar of the city, philanthropist, benefactor, for some a reflection of what Gotham could be, for others the only living memory of better times, for many a billionaire businessman, for few a father. You glanced at him stealthily once again painfully realizing that there was no room for damaged goods in his life, no matter how much you wished it would be different.

"When we get back to Wayne Tower I'm getting to work immediately. I'm in contact with several suppliers who will hopefully provide us with the materials we need to make the sensors. After I verify the specifications, I plan to provide a list of potential suppliers to Mister Fox and ask him to order the small quantity needed to make the test components."

"You're starting with sensors?"

"Linking with telecom, internet, satellite and whatnot won't be a problem. Only whether I can design and make sensors that will detect exactly what we need to detect could be. It's the base of the whole project so yes, I'm starting with the most difficult part."

"This is not the most difficult part," he countered, "I have no doubt that we will be able to achieve the design goals. The biggest problem will be the implementation of the system and convincing the city authorities of its relevance."

"Look around!" you stopped in mid-step allowing the nurse steering the medical bed to pass, "it may be naive thinking on my part, but at least some of those victims could be at home instead of in the hospital thanks to this improvement."

"You're right," he admitted in a lowered voice, taking a step closer to you and forcing you to raise your head to look him in the eyes, "I only wish more people in Gotham shared your thinking, especially those in power."

"Did my ignorance and lack of knowledge once again derail my thinking?"

Bruce did not answer immediately. Only gently placed his hands on your shoulders and turned you in the direction from which you came. Your shoulder rested against his chest as he leaned closer to you and began to explain.

"Now you take a look around Y/N," a husky voice sounded right next to your ear as Bruce discreetly began pointing out different parts of the vast infirmary, "to the left next to the entrance in black and white sweats are Penguin's men," you trailed your eyes along his words, "the one in the suit is probably their leader. The Penguin, as the people call him, is really named Oswald Cobblepot and is the last living member of one of the oldest families in Gotham. Penguin built his empire on weapons smuggling. But not just any weapons. Firearms, biological weapons, chemical weapons, whatever was in demand. Once he established himself in the city, he changed his role from a supplier more into a broker. His club Iceberg Lunge continuously hosts Gotham's criminal underworld as well as politicians and businessmen. You see, this is how Penguin views himself, not as a criminal but as a legitimate businessman. Anything that can be bought, sold, sourced, and liquidated with additional profit serves as an object of interest for him. Items, information, people, it doesn't matter. His record includes many assassinations, extortion, blackmail, bribery, and he does not hesitate from getting involved in politics. Just like Carmine Falcone, whose people you can spot at the entrance to the main block corridor, you swept your eyes down the hall toward a group of people dressed in sleek suits. Bruce continued, "Carmine 'The Roman', Falcone is one of the most feared and ruthless gangsters in Gotham and he does not disguise himself as a businessman at all although it's hard to deny his talent for business. Falcone doesn't act alone, he has a whole empire behind his back managed by many members of his family, as befits a true mafia. Brilliant and brutally efficient, he has on his payroll not only countless enterprisers who buy their protection from him but especially police officers and politicians. His organization mainly supplies Gotham with weapons and drugs, but he derives most of his power from his extensive connections, employed blackmail, bribery, intimidation, assassination, and kidnapping. Nothing in Gotham happens without his knowledge. No one gets to power without his approval."

"I assume that those on the opposite side closer to the ER entrance are the rival gang?" you asked quietly looking at the group of people in black suits.

"Maroni's men, always competing with Falcone for positions and territory," Bruce explained, "Sal's chain of Italian restaurants is just a front for his criminal organization. Simply put, where Roman's hand does not reach, Maroni's does. They hate each other but one thing unites them. They both hate Penguin more."

"Why?"

"You see, Falcone and Maroni are classic gangsters, people in power which they acquired in the most brutal way possible. Penguin, on the other hand, represents a new species of criminals in Gotham. Penguin doesn't shy away from working with those whom both Falcone and Maroni treat as freaks. You would never see one of them selling weapons to Joker. Penguin has no problem with that."

"How do you know all this?" you asked turning to him and gazing into his eyes again.

"I'm Bruce Wayne," he replied as if that explained everything, "you don't get to be me and not cross paths with one of them. Or as in my case with all of them. I have power, money, influence and I do what I can for the benefit of Gotham. The name Wayne means a lot in this city and public opinion takes into account my perspective. It's fair to say that they resent the fact that they don't have me under their control."

"Aren't you afraid?"

"Gotham is my city, my home. I won't let fear of people like Falcone or Maroni stop me from doing what I do."

"But you are knowingly exposing yourself to a potential attack from their side."

"Believe me, it's not as scary as it seems," he replied with a nonchalant smile, "as you can see we went through the hospital and no one rushed at me with a knife."

"Bruce…"

"I didn't mean to scare you, Y/N. I only intended to make you aware that it's not the city government we'll have to worry about but them," the seriousness returned, "but enough of that. Come on, let's do what we came here to do." His hand moved to your waist steering you toward the surgical ward.

"Wait a second," you placed your hand on his chest, "since we're already here I'll ask if Jonathan is leaving tomorrow as planned," you informed him and without waiting for his answer you moved towards the nurse at the reception desk.

The reception desk was only a few steps away and it didn't even take you a minute to cross the hall. Yet a minute was enough for you to observe the unpleasant stares from the gangsters who shot in your direction time and again, to hear quiet whistling and disgusting comments.

"Look, look, Wayne's new doll. Nice ass. Why don't you introduce yourself?" came to your ears.

"Come on Frankie, the Prince of Gotham is right there."

"So what! What's he's gonna do? Fucking nothing! But I know what I'd do to her if I got my hands on that ass. She'd be squealing."

"It's not what he's gonna do. But what the Boss will do if he finds out."

The shivers ran down your spine only for moments quickly replaced by a new, yet familiar feeling. He watched you. His gaze, like a cool soothing touch rested on your back and did not leave you waiting for you to return to him. There was something reassuring about it, and yet strangely unsettling at the same time.

"Excuse me," you turned to the nurse drowning in patient files.

"Wait your turn."

"No, it's not that, I just wanted to ask about the patient who is staying here," you continued but the nurse didn't even raise her eyes from over the documents.

"When was he admitted?"

"Four days ago," you replied.

"Ask in the ward. This is an emergency room."

"I don't know which ward he's in. I would be very grateful for your help," you tried again feeling an increasing chill on your back, "Doctor Jonathan Crane? If you could at least point me in the right direction."

"Are you family?" she asked moving her eyes from over the documents to the computer screen still ignoring you.

"No, a friend."

"We only give information to the patient's family."

"Please, I'm sure he wouldn't mind," you insisted while the chill on your back continued to rise. The gangsters' conversations quieted down.

"We do not give information to non-family members."

"We're not asking for his health status but what ward he's in," Bruce corrected the nurse appearing silently beside you, "I'm sure you can give us such information."

"What don't you people understand, this is an emergency room not a ward!" the woman finally raised her annoyed eyes that instantly softened, "Bruce Wayne…" she whispered stunned, "I mean, Mister Wayne, yes, of course."

"That won't be a problem, will it?"

"Absolutely not! I'm already checking," she replied with a smile while tapping Jonathan's name on the keyboard, "yes…. Doctor Jonathan Crane, admitted to trauma, transferred to general after a day, head injury, possible concussion…" she read from the computer, "discharged today at his own request."

"Discharged?" you asked surprised.

"Yes. But he hasn't picked up his papers yet so I assume he's either still in his room or in the treatment area for a bandage change."

"Thank you so much for your help," Bruce's charming tone brought a smile back to the nurse's face, "we were just going there."

All Jonathan wanted was to get as far away from all the overprotective doctors as he could. Settle into the peaceful silence of his lab and continue his work. All he had to do was get his bandage changed one last time and pick up his discharge card.

The Joker's visit brutally made him realize that he was not as invisible as he would have liked. The fact that the cops were looking for him was known to him, but he was sure he could deceive them indefinitely. But if the Joker was able to get to him, Batman was certainly closer than he thought. After an unexpected encounter in Arkham, he was convinced that Batman was there because of Harleen Quinzel. After all, that seemed to be the most logical explanation. Just one of the many errors in thinking he made. Y/N and her lies, her half-truths, her untold facts caused him to overlook another explanation. He failed to see the obvious connection. Sure, she told him about the events at Iceberg Launge, she told him about how he rescued her from the sinking car, but how many things did she leave out? How many things did she leave unsaid during their sessions? She claimed to trust him and yet she was never completely honest with him. The trip out of town turned out to be a party in the company of none other than Bruce goddamn Wayne of all people, he could only assume that her previous date was also with him. A lying imposter, she chose her words so carefully to give him exactly what he wanted while not revealing the whole truth. "Fool!" he gritted his teeth.

"I'm sorry Doctor, but I'm trying to be as gentle as I can," the nurse uttered seeing his sudden reaction, "unfortunately the wound may still hurt for a few days," she added applying a fresh bandage to his temple.

"It's fine," he muttered in response.

If she had concealed so much he could only guess how many other things she had kept from him. Did he have reason to believe that she had seen him more than the two times she had told him about? Perhaps because of Quinzel she kept in touch with him? Perhaps she even told him about his unusual practices? Perhaps she didn't have to. Perhaps he already knew. Did he have reason to believe that Batman knew how unusual she was and that's why he decided to observe her? One thing was certain, whether she wanted it or not, she had led Batman to him. He had to act fast. He had to decide his next move quickly and deal with the problem she posed. All he had to decide was how. He had roughly 24 hours to plan what he would do with her. A day to decide before Y/N would show up again and start lying and cheating under the guise of being honest and open. A day before Y/N…

The door to the treatment area opened and in it stood Y/N. Behind her back towered none other than Bruce Wayne. She looked around the room as Wayne grabbed the doctor's arm, stopping him in his steps. Two sentences were enough for the doctor to point them in his direction. She smiled brightly at the sight of him, and with her smile the 24 hours he had to make plans disappeared.

"Jonathan!" without a moment's hesitation she ran up to him and, completely ignoring the nurse finishing her work, threw herself around his neck and hugged him tightly. Although rage boiled within him, he welcomed her embrace eagerly.

"Game on, Wayne," he thought as he watched his icy stare while he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tighter.

"It's so good to see you. I was worried," she beamed and before she pulled away from him her lips pressed a light kiss against his cheek, "you look great! They took good care of you here!"

"What are you doing here?" he asked her simultaneously acknowledging Bruce's presence with a brief nod.

"Bruce brought me in for stitches removal," she replied lifting the sleeve of her blouse and showing a long wound, "supposedly scars make the man. I'll have another one for the collection," she sassed.

"Very kind of you, Mister Wayne," Crane turned toward Bruce with feigned courtesy.

"You were supposed to stay in the hospital until tomorrow," Y/N continued, "I was planning to pick you up."

"I'm definitely fed up with the hospital," he replied, "so fed up that I think I'll take an overdue vacation."

"What were you thinking! What you did was incredibly dangerous!" anger ignited her eyes.

"No more dangerous than your actions," he pointed to the wound on his arm, "maybe we shouldn't talk about it now."

"Right," she agreed, "since you are leaving the hospital today…damn. This is not how I planned all this. "

"Things don't always go according to plan. But don't worry, I'll call a cab."

"Nonsense," Bruce inserted himself into the conversation, "we'll give you a ride."

"There is no need for that," Crane refused but Y/N completely ignored it.

"Seriously, it won't be any problem?" she asked, walking up closer to him. Too close for Jonathans' liking.

"Absolutely none," he replied without a second thought.

"You're the best," she smiled brightly, "I'd stay for coffee, maybe do some shopping for Jonathan. I know a moment ago I was talking about work but…"

"Relax," Wayne interrupted her, "do what you have to do and come to work later. I don't see any problem."

"But Mister Fox…"

"Flexible working hours, remember?" he noted, "don't worry about Lucius. I'll take care of it."

"Bruce, I don't know," she hesitated.

"But I do," he interrupted her again, "let's get your stitches out and get out of here," he decided, " Doctor Crane if you're done why don't you wait outside with me? Let's give Y/N a little privacy."

The nurse nodded, gave final instructions advising Jonathan that for the next few days he should take things easy, avoid long baths and soaking the wound, keep it clean, and report for a check up if necessary. She also instructed him to pick up a discharge card before leaving, then bid them both good day, focusing her attention on Y/N.

"We'll wait outside," Bruce threw in her direction before closing the door behind him.

They were left alone. Although the hospital life in the hallway was bustling with machine sounds, conversations, raised directions, clattering equipment, and whining patients a complete silence settled between them. Standing on one side of the door, Jonathan occasionally glanced silently toward Bruce, who without a word pulled out his phone and immersed himself, as Jonathan could only assume, in his work. "Bruce fucking Wayne," he cursed in his mind, "on top of everything I have to deal with him. As if it wasn't enough that Y/N drew to me Joker and Batman she had to catch his attention. Fucking magnet for trouble."

"Mister Wayne," he began, glaring at him from above his glasses, "thank you again for offering to drive me home but I assure you it won't be necessary. I'm sure someone of your status has much more important things to do."

"As I said, it's no problem," Bruce replied without taking his eyes off the phone screen, "Y/N was very worried about you, I can see how important this is to her. It's the least I can do."

"Speaking of Y/N," Jonathan lowered his tone and stood closer to him, "let me be direct and ask, what do you want from her?"

"I beg your pardon?" Bruce glared at him sternly.

"A simple question Mister Wayne."

"I believe it is none of your business Doctor Crane."

"It happens to be my business," Crane countered, "you see, Y/N is in a very fragile state right now. When I met her she already had a ton of problems and buried trauma to work through and, let's be honest, Gotham hasn't been kind to her. I'm sure you know that. She looks like she's fine but the experience makes me wonder how much she can take before she snaps," his gaze traveled through the glass of the door in her direction then returned to him.

"Your point?" Wayne's face expressed no emotion.

"She was making fantastic progress and then you showed up and she stopped. She is living in denial and you are the distraction that gave her an escape route," Crane continued, "please understand me, I only have her best interests at heart."

"She is lucky to have a friend like you," Wayne remained unmoved.

"Leave her alone," Crane's words sounded closer to a warning, "for her sake. Let's not fool ourselves sooner or later this will end in tragedy. At the risk of offending you, Mister Wayne, everyone knows your reputation. How long will it be before you get tired of her and move on to the next flavor of the season? Weeks? Months perhaps? Y/N doesn't look at you through the same lenses as others, and I assume you must find it extremely refreshing. But sooner or later you will disappear and leave destruction behind," Jonathan's cold gaze confronted Bruce's stern one, "all I want is to protect her from the inevitable. Y/N is strong but I can't let her take another hit. I'm not sure I'll be able to help her put herself back together."

"I'm sure Y/N would appreciate your concern," Bruce spoke gravely, "and I will agree with you on one thing, she cannot take another hit. But rest assured you won't be helping her put herself back together."

"I'm glad we understand each other."

The door to the treatment center opened brightening their surroundings again.

"Stitches are out, another sexy scar for the collection!" Y/N sassed with a broad smile, "I don't know about you but I'm so ready to leave the hospital! I could use some coffee though!"

On the way out of the hospital, Y/N didn't hide her joy at seeing Crane back on his feet. Yesterday's sadness and despair had disappeared replaced by her usual cheerfulness and Bruce couldn't help but wonder how much of it was an act. The intrusive thought prompted him to imagine how easily she would have found her place in his world returned but he quickly pushed it away focusing his attention on observation. She kept asking him about his health, about what the doctors said, about what recommendations he had, and he politely answered. But the politeness of his voice had nothing to do with the expression on his face that Bruce monitored in the rearview mirror. Restrained and cold, time and again laced with a calculated smile as he glanced in her direction. Bruce had seen this expression countless times and understood very well what it meant, Crane was hiding a completely different emotion. The last thing he wanted to do was leave her alone in his company. But Sunday's incident did not bring him any closer and Y/N was proving more and more every day to be his biggest clue and perhaps his best chance to expose him. He had to take that risk. He had to push aside his feelings for the greater good. The unease he felt suspecting him of being involved with the attacks on the people of Gotham, of messing with Y/N's mind, was becoming increasingly more justified and after the night's conversation, it almost became a fact. An uneasiness that was now further intensified by his growing jealousy. But what worried him, even more, was that Y/N seemed to completely ignore the obvious signs. She was so eager to jump right back into the middle of danger as if her instincts were working in reverse. Driven by concern for others, she completely disregarded her own safety, which she only proved to him yet again last night. He had to act quickly and discreetly. He had to find hard evidence that he could use against him before it was too late before Y/N becomes his next victim. But for now, he had no choice but to hope that after the failed attack Crane would be cautious that, if necessary, Y/N would activate the transmitter he had given her. That he was not making a mistake.

He stopped the car outside the small building that Crane had pointed out to him and carefully scanned his surroundings. "A few CCTV cameras, no problem," he quickly counted six that could record images located nearby, "but neighbors' prying eyes could be," he scanned the surrounding buildings, combining the number of parked cars with the number of tilted windows, "I'll have to come at night, make sure Crane isn't home, disrupt the cameras, turn off the street lights, and get in through the balcony window, preferably from the roof," he planned quickly as he got out of the car and walked around it to open her door and help her out.

"Thank you again," she smiled, standing in front of him with her hand still holding his. He didn't let go.

"Let me know when you're ready. I'll send a driver to pick you up," he ordered.

"Come on. I can call an Uber."

"All right. In that case, the driver will wait for you as long as it takes," he replied gently but leaving no room for argument.

"You don't take no for an answer, don't you Mister Wayne," she smirked.

"I do not," he smirked back, "don't be long."

"I won't," she replied, slipping her hand out of his hand. He didn't let her. Instead, he put his arm around her waist, pulled her closer and kissed her. She didn't resist. The brief surprise subsided when her lips softly welcomed his as her free hand rested on his chest. Her lips craved it as much as his, and although they both maintained decent control, he prolonged the kiss.

"I'll see you later…" he said when their lips finally parted then kissed her again briefly, nodded shortly to Crane, got into the car and drove away.

One glance in Jonathan's direction was enough to cool your burning feelings. His face set in stone and devoided of emotion, a cold and disappointed look, without a word he headed towards the entrance of the building while you followed. The rest of the day did not look pleasant, but you could not simply ignore him. For the past months he had been there for you every time you needed him, so now it was time for you to be there for him. Even if everything was much more complicated now. You were ready to endure his reluctance and aloofness, maybe even anger, if it meant that you would be able to take care of him the way he took care of you. After all, he was the one who stepped forward to defend the people, standing up to your friend and the Joker. After all, it was your friend who got him into the hospital.

As you walked in silence up the stairs leading to his apartment on the third floor, you couldn't help but reflect on your Sunday conversation, on the words he said that made everything feel different. He cared about you more than you thought and in the meantime you let Bruce sweep you off your feet and take you to Wonderland. Simultaneously, with that in your mind, you allowed Bruce to think that Jonathan was just a friend to you, you took advantage of his understanding and lack of knowledge when you could have simply been honest with him. Perhaps Jonathan was right, perhaps lies and half-truths indeed came too easily to you? Life around you seemed to take on a frenetic pace, events unfolded one after another and you tried your best to keep everything under control. Failing miserably.

"So, you and Wayne are like a thing right now?" Jonathan asked bluntly as soon as the apartment door closed behind you.

"Wow, that was quick," you snarked with a frown.

"What else did you expect? That we would waltz around the subject?"

"No pun intended, huh?" you scoffed angrily, "I don't know, maybe the usual hey coffee on the second shelf in the cabinet above the countertop."

"Coffee on the second shelf in the cabinet above the countertop," he snarled, "I need a shower and a change of clothes. I stink of the hospital," he added then disappeared behind the closed door of his bedroom.

"Fantastic start, great job," you sighed throwing the jacket and bag on the armchair to head toward the kitchen, "but he's right. What did I expect?" You turned on the coffee maker, then the air conditioner to pull out the stuffy air then opened the window to let out the weird smell spreading through the apartment. You regretted not taking your cigarettes with you. You could use one right now. Instead, caffeine had to be enough. The black one which you hated. But the milk had managed to spoil in the four days of his absence. You couldn't find any cream either. Neither could you find bread, nor any essentials. The refrigerator was glowing empty.

"When was the last time you cleaned the air conditioner!" you threw loudly in the direction of the bedroom, "and did any shopping? Your refrigerator is empty like no one has been here for weeks!"

"I've been eating out or at work a lot lately, and the AC is broken," he replied, as he walked out of the bedroom. Dressed in a suit, a clean white shirt and a silver tie tied tightly around his neck, he looked like he was heading straight to work. Only the wet hair pulled back from his face implied otherwise.

"The doctor told you to take things slowly," you scolded, "I'm going to run down to the grocery store, and cook something for today and tomorrow. Stay at home."

"I have work to do," he grunted under his breath while pouring himself a cup of coffee, "I'm not going to sit at home and do nothing."

"You said you'd take an overdue vacation."

"I have other work to do."

"What other work?"

"Other work," he repeated with emphasis, "outside the hospital. Stop with the questions. You know I don't just work at the hospital. My patients have been unattended for the last four days. I have to check on them."

"Jonathan I'm sure your patients will understand that you need a few days off," he avoided your gaze, "work is the last thing you should be thinking about right now."

"Look who's talking," he mocked, "how quickly did you get back to work?"

"On Monday," you admitted, "but it's not the same. I only got a cut. You got a baseball bat to the head."

"Why did you run after her!" he asked suddenly and his gaze finally focused on you, "why do you keep running toward danger? You're only drawing attention to yourself," anger blazed in his eyes.

"You know very well why," you replied calmly, "I had to do something."

"No, you didn't have to!" usually subdued this time he raised his voice, "you didn't have to Y/N! Normal people see danger and run away in the opposite direction! You run towards it!"

"Maybe I have things to make up for," you argued quietly.

"What things? What aren't you telling me again!"

"I didn't come here to talk about myself," you muttered, "I'm no longer one of your patients you have to check on."

"You're right, you're not," sounded menacingly. Jonathan stepped closer trapping you between the kitchen counter and his own body. "You're not my patient. You won't be my patient ever again. But you are a woman I care about, whose well being I care about. The fact that Wayne came into your life doesn't do any good."

"We're not going to talk about Bruce," you snapped.

"He's playing with you."

"You don't know him, you have no idea what you're talking about!"

"Fuck! Y/N you sound like Qunizel," he laughed, "and you supposedly know him? He's a womanizer! Playboy. Everyone knows about it! He changes women like his suits! He constantly shows up with another one! I thought you were smarter than that."

"I said I don't want to talk about it."

"You're not special," he smirked spitefully, "you're just another one."

"It was a mistake for me to come here," you growled slamming your coffee mug on the countertop, "I thought we could continue being…"

"Don't say friends," he interrupted you, "no, we won't be friends. Friends don't lie to each other."

"I am more honest with you than with anyone else!" you lied without thinking, "I thought you of all people understand that it is not easy to talk about certain things!"

"You lie, you lie constantly," he placed his hands on the countertop on both your sides, "you hide from me, you conceal the truths. And even though I confronted you with this barely a few days ago, you are doing it again."

"Get away from me…" you whispered, trying to find a little distance. You had never seen him so angry.

"He is bad for you Y/N," Jonathan continued lowering tone of voice, "he brings to you danger you can't see. Don't you have enough excitement? Do you really need an aristocrat who will entertain himself with you and leave you more broken than you already are?"

"Space, please…" you looked at him fiercely but he only pushed back the hair falling on your cheek before trailing his hand along your neck.

"But you like it. You like danger," resounded from within him ominously, "after all, no one forced you to go to the Penguin Club, to risk your life back then on the bridge, to confront Harleen, to seek help from Batman instead of me."

"Jonathan stop…" you warned while the familiar feeling inside you reawakened. Energy seemed to pulsate through your veins, filling your body, infusing the muscles, forcing you to act.

"How did you feel when the Joker put the blade to your face?" he asked as he pressed his hand to your throat, "were you afraid?"

"I was not afraid."

"Lies," the green eyes brightened intensely, "lies, lies, lies. Did I ever tell you how much I hate liars?" he clenched his hand tighter on your neck.

"I'm not lying," you replied stubbornly.

"Were you afraid when the black waters of the bay filled the car?" he ran his free hand up your thigh, "when life began to flee from you?"

"I wasn't afraid," you replied unmoved but inside the energy was burning. The same energy that pushed you to act, the same energy that made reality seem to yield ignited your senses. It was furious.

"Were you afraid back then, when in visions you lost control over your own body? Over your own will?" he moved his hand over your hip while tightening the other more firmly around your neck, "powerless, hopeless."

"Take your hands off me…" you warned.

"I'm not going to hurt you," a deep smokey voice assured, "I'm just trying to help you."

"Stop it…" your senses ignited dangerously as his hand moved higher up your waist.

"You're afraid," his eyes demanded submission, "you're afraid. I can see it…" he slid his hand under your blouse, "I can feel it…" he smiled with satisfaction, "but you like it."

"I said stop!!!" you shouted extending both hands in front of you and pushing him away. Energy flew out of you sending Jonathan several steps backward. A fright took over you when you saw his shocked face, "I'm sorry…" you whispered but he only smiled.

"How did you do that?" he was fascinated.

"I don't know."

"Do it again," he demanded moving toward you. His eyes blazed.

"I don't know how."

"Do it!"

"I can't! I don't know how!"

"But I know…" he growled menacingly jumping at you again, "I told you that fear controls you. I told you what power it has over you," he closed the space between you again, "admit it. You are afraid."

"I am," you replied, looking into his burning lustful eyes, "but not of you."

"What are you afraid of?"

"Loss of control," you replied, "I'm afraid of this strength that's inside me," you looked at your hands, "I'm afraid of my thoughts. Of the fact that I might hurt someone. I'm afraid they'll lock me up. The feeling of powerlessness."

"Let it go," he grabbed your hands firmly, "give me your fear. Let it go. Feel the strength," he tightened his hands around your wrists, "I can make you stronger than you have ever been. Free from the fear that limits you," he murmured softly, "I have opened your mind, I will take away your fear and fill you with power you have never known. I will show you the world as I see it. I will open to you possibilities you didn't know you had," his hands gripped tighter on your wrists, "we could do so much together."

"Stop…" you whispered slipping your hands out of his, "I can't control something I don't know. I could hurt someone. Like then…"

"You'd rather others hurt you!" he shouted grasping your arms. You squirmed in pain. "You'd rather they were the ones inflicting wounds on you!" he gripped your arms tighter.

"You're hurting me!" you groaned as his fingers painfully dug into the wound.

"You'd rather be a victim!"

"No!"

"How did you feel when you took control! How did you feel when you inflicted pain on those who hurt you!" blood ran down your arm, "how did you feel when you lost control for a moment!"

"Alive…" you whispered quietly, "I felt alive."

"You are chasing danger," he growled, "danger excites you," he pulled you close, "it fills you with this burning exhilaration."

"It does."

"They've used you, they've abused you," danger ignited in his eyes again, "you continue to let them. Those who held you, your friend, Batman," his hands took hold of your neck again, "they tightened the noose of fear around you and you let them," he clenched tighter, "they suffocate you. And you let them. How much can you take before you snap?"

"What makes you think I haven't already," you whispered pulling toward him ignoring the pain pushing against your throat, "I remember the terror I felt in the past. Fear, helplessness, pain, weakness. You helped me remember," you released one of his hands from your neck placed it again on your waist. He squeezed painfully. "I remember the harm that was done to me, the will that was taken from me," you released his other hand. His eyes widened with fascination. "I remember how they cut me, stabbed me, tested me," you ran his hand down your arms, tracing each vein directing it upward, over your breasts where electrodes used to be pinned, down over your stomach to direct it down to your back toward the spine where needles used to be inserted. "I remember their laughter, I remember the mocking, I remember the voices and faces of the people who did this to me," the hand on your waist clenched tightly as the other pulled you closer, "I didn't tell you. I remember more than I would like to remember."

"What do you want?" he asked as his hand traveled further down to slip under your skirt.

"Justice," you replied as your body trembled.

"What do you really want?" he tightened his hand painfully on your hip.

"Vengeance," you smiled, "I want to make them afraid as much as I was afraid," the green of his eyes grew sinister. You grabbed his jacket and yanked him closer, "I want you to show me your world. As you see it. I want to lose control."

His hand clenched harder but your scream stifled his violent kiss. He drew you close while his lips began to greedily drink the hatred from yours. You threw your arms around his neck and drew him stronger to you. The pain on your hip disappeared when his fingers entwined in your hair and yanked strongly back.

"If you lie to me," he began ominously.

"Awh, come on Doc! Are you scared?" you purred, unleashing lust in him. You grabbed his neck and drew him back to you. His strong arm wrapped around you as his tongue forced its way into your mouth. You moaned as his hand went under your blouse, closing on your breast. He pushed against you with all his strength, kissing your neck, your collarbones, caressing your nipple with his fingers. Taking advantage of the countertop, you gently bounced up and wrapped your legs around his waist. He hardened against you as with one hand holding you in the air he pulled off your blouse with the other. You entwined your fingers in his still damp hair as his greedy lips closed on your breast. Blood pulsed in your temples as he sat you down on the countertop and slid his freed hand between your legs. You tugged at his hair forcing him to look at you. The green in his burned venomously. You drowned again in his lips. In his passionate, lustful lips. You drowned in freedom, in bliss, in anger, in hatred as his fingers began to wander at your entrance. Kissing incessantly, you loosened his tie, ripped his shirt open while buttons scattered over the floor. His fingers entered you as you dug your nails into the exposed skin of his arms. You moaned in pleasure as you slid your hand into his pants.

"Show me," you whispered in his ear sensing him hard under your fingers, "show me what it's like to be powerful," you tightened your grip on him, "take away my fears," he pulsed in your hand, "make me free." He pulled his fingers out of you, grabbed your hips and lifted you allowing your legs to wrap around his waist again. Devouring lips crashed against yours again.

"I'll do a lot more than that," he breathed against your lips.

"Do whatever the fuck you want," you murmured in delight as he continued to hold you in the air while heading for the bedroom. With a kick, he opened the door as his passionate kisses caressed your neck. He threw you on the bed and ripped off your skirt. Naked, uncovered, you watched as he slipped his pants off revealing himself in all his glory. Your hand went between your legs invitingly. You moaned as he watched you tease. You didn't stop when he climbed onto the bed positioning himself on top of you. When his hands and lips began to cup your breasts again. He gripped your hips painfully as he pulsed at your entrance. He ran his fingers along your thighs only to slide down lower a moment later to kiss the inner of your thighs, to tease your lips with his tongue. You moaned arching under his touch. Giving him temporary power over your body.

"I knew you were hiding from me," he whispered as his eyes shone in front of yours again, "why these games. Why the lies?" he asked kissing you passionately, teasing you with his aroused hardness, "what was the game of appearances for?" he asked sliding over your wet entrance.

"I needed to understand," you replied arching toward him, "I needed to remember," you wrapped your leg around him encouragingly, "maybe I was afraid."

"I'll show you fear," he growled entering you violently, "I'll show you the fear no one knows," you moaned and he thrust in again, "I'll show you what power fear has," you spread your legs and he pushed in deeper, "I'll show you how to control it," a cry of delight broke out as he penetrated deep. Harder, with rhythmic movements, he moved inside you pressing you with all his weight against the mattress. Slowly and steadily at first, only to increase the pace as your body began to beg for more. He sped up and slowed down while his breath cooled your burning skin. He teased you with his fingers pressing his lips to your breasts as you moaned from pleasure with each violent thrust. Your body trembled as he knelt down, grabbed your hips and began to push rhythmically, deeper and more intense. A loud ecstasy filled the room as he pressed his hands against your breasts. Your body arched when his lust took over you as he drove his fingers into your hips pushing into you with all his strength filling you with an electrifying feeling of freedom. You were close to the end but he was just beginning. With a swift movement, he turned you on your stomach, trapped your legs tightly between his own and thrust into you violently, pressing his whole body against yours.

"Is this what you wanted?" he again clamped his hand on your throat tilting you back pumping intensely, "pain and pleasure," he rammed into you harder, "are you afraid?"

"No," you groaned.

"You should be," he purred sliding out of you only to lift you up, sit on the bed and let your legs wrap around him tightly as you slid down onto him. His lips once again found their way to yours. Found a path down your neck to your breasts. His hands tightened around you again as pleasure filled you completely. An explosion of sensations as you took control sliding out and onto him. The thrill of desire as you sank your nails into him, rising and falling rhythmically, making him penetrate you deeper with each movement. Your bodies pulsed in unison as he pressed you tightly against him with one hand while the other wandered into the drawers of the nightstand. He took control and quickened his pace, you felt blood under your fingernails. He tugged your hair and lustfully began to pleasure your breasts. Exhilaration pulsed in every bit of your body as his fingers found their way to your rear entrance sliding inside. Your body trembled in his hands as his tongue circled around your nipples while he ravaged your insides. You muffled cries in his neck as he invaded your rear with his fingers thrusting from both sides. Another orgasm shook your body but Jonathan only laughed deeply. He slid his fingers out of you, paused for a moment inside you, yanked painfully on your hair tilting your head back, and before you had time to react he sprayed gas right in your face.

Fear gripped you completely. Terror took over all other emotions when Jonathan's face twisted into a wraithlike smile. The lights suddenly seemed brighter, the sounds seemed louder, the blood in your temples seemed to pulse harder than anything else. Panic overwhelmed you completely as you drove your nails into his chest. His eyes blazed venomously as acid rushed from his mouth. His fingers suddenly seemed rough, scratching your skin painfully. His lips savaged yours until blood flowed as he laid you back on the bed with a terrifying smile, grabbing your arms above your head with one hand while pressing the other against your mouth.

"Don't scream," he ordered sliding slowly out of you, "I know you're scared but you can't scream," with his legs he spread yours wider, "you won't scream will you?" he didn't wait for an answer. He rammed into you violently while his hand muffled your cries. Again and again, with a rhythmic throbbing movement, he ripped your insides apart, thrusting harder and deeper each time. "You're so beautiful when you're afraid," he whispered, pulsing inside you, "when terror makes you want to scream but you can't," he pounded harder, "when all your nightmares come crashing down on you and there's nothing you can do!" he exclaimed, ramming into you.

The world suddenly flooded with white again. The white of bright burning lights fell on your bare skin, hurting your eyes, burning your senses.

"That's it," he pushed in harder, "feel the fear. Let go."

They were cutting, slashing and stabbing and there was nothing you could do. Red life was escaping from you through plastic tubes and you couldn't stop it. Powerless. You wanted to scream, but his hand covered your mouth. You wanted to cry but the light seemed to burn the tears in your eyes. Only the violent thrusting sensation slamming into you again and again. Only his exhilarated murmur when the acid from his mouth seemed to flow into yours. Only his strokes between your legs invading you. You snatched your hands from his grasp and sank your fingers into his paper skin, tearing it apart. He moaned in pleasure as he advanced inside you. You sank them in once more but he refused to be hurt again. The only venom in his eyes glistened as he turned you on your stomach for a second time and rammed into you. Pillows stifled a scream when you felt him deeper than before. Like a nightmare monster, he invaded you from behind while a laugh of satisfaction echoed through the apartment. You were completely subject to his will. Powerless as he slid his hand in front and with his burning fingers began to tease you. Acid burned through the skin on your neck and your back as he devoured your flesh. The blazing light burned your senses with each successive thrust. They cut, sliced, and stabbed as he crushed you with his whole body, grabbed your neck with both hands, and squeezed hard pushing down harder and deeper and faster until finally a cry tore through space with the feeling of acid pouring inside you.

Darkness fell.

The monster sank down heavily beside you cradling its hideous face into your neck.

In the darkness you found peace.

"I'm glad you came," he whispered kissing your back, " I really didn't want to kill you," he wrapped his arms around you, "and now that you are mine, I can show you my world."

A single tear ran down your cheek.

You were scared.

***

Chapter thirteen: Questionable choices

~~***~~ Author note: No comment... Well maybe except, I don't know how this happened, it just happened, I wasn't planning on this, I definitely wasn't planning on this! And honestly, for about a week I was thinking about removing that scene and reworking the whole chapter. But ultimately I decided to leave it. I don't know, it ain't my usual thing to write, but it kinda fitted the story, will see where it's gonna lead. I have tons of ideas moving forward. So I hope you won't mind this well...let's call it a moment of weakness. Till the next time Dear Reader! ~~***~~ Tag list: @mrsgrahamsdesign @theclassicvinyldragon @blondwhowrites @batgirlspain @hangmanscoming @julesjewelss36 @cherryflavoredcoke @grandstrangerphantom @maripositanoctruna @pluckastarfromthesky @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @pirate-with-internet-connection

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