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[cillianmesoftlyyy]

How About It, Agent Miller? | Lenny Miller x fem!reader

Summary: The year is 1988. The Cold War is well underway and tensions are slowly rising between the US and the Soviets. CIA Agent Miller isn’t threatened by the new young agent from the Soviet Union but she has a plan to get his attention, and to get even.

Warnings: Misogyny, violence, gun, kidnapping, restraints, dubious consent, noncon, smut, unprotected sex, edging, drugging.

word count: 4661k

Sympathy for the Devil- The Rolling Stones 🎶

Devils Haircut- Beck 🎵

You Know I’m No Good- Amy Winehouse 🎶

Movie: Anna (2019)

Please read warnings before continuing, thanks!

He thought this job was going to be simple, almost easy. She was working for East Germany, young, and new to her position; surely she wouldn’t be that difficult to eliminate. He’d been working for the CIA for nearly fifteen years at that point. He was one of the top agents and had orchestrated the downfall of many notable German and Soviet spies. To be fair, there had been that minor detail of receiving several severed heads from the KGB back in 1985 but that was all behind him now. They didn’t scare him now, and certainly, that twenty-something agent he’d heard so much about wasn’t about to make him lose sleep. In fact, he was looking forward to meeting her.

The girl in question was twenty-two and one of the deadliest spies to ever work for East Germany (the communist side). Y/N Y/L/N managed to slip past the CIA on multiple occasions, stealing out the backdoor or using false passports to get out of the country undetected. She’d made one mistake, however, and Agent Miller was quick to catch it. He rued the way she’d avoided detection for so long when it felt like it was all due simply to good luck. She didn’t seem especially smart or conniving, just pretty. It pissed him off. The mistake that Y/N had made was small, easy to look over, but Agent Miller was looking, and he found it.

Y/N tricked men around her to get information on the US. Once she’d get them alone, she drugged them, shot them, etc; anything to get them out of her way while she downloaded classified files from their computers. She had managed to steal these files before without leaving traces of her crime but low and behold, the last time she had removed the flash drive without ejecting it from the computer’s system. The computer held onto the flash drive's information and told Agent Miller exactly what the young woman was planning next. She’d been collecting information on nuclear weapons and international trade deals that the US was trying to keep hush hush. And for that reason, Agent Miller knew who she was going after next.

He straightened his striped blue tie and cleared his throat as he and his team crowded into the elevator. The men behind him carried larger guns and thick bulletproof vests, ready for whatever the girl threw at them. They’d followed her into a hotel in New York City, a place that felt too normal for the situation at hand. When the elevator doors opened with a soft whooshing noise, Agent Miller nodded his agents on, directing them to either side of the corridor. Quickly, they raided the hotel room belonging to the man they believed she had gone after that evening, but did not find her there. She was nowhere in the hotel. Agent Miller cursed beneath his breath and gritted his teeth. He knew his impatience was his worst quality and it only hurt him in these situations, but then again, the American government isn’t known for being very patient with communists…

Clenching and relaxing his jaw, Agent Miller went back down in the elevator with his men. They separated into groups in the lobby, each climbing back into the armored car sent by the CIA. Agent Miller waited behind, his cold eyes trained on the curb in front of the hotel. His car was separate from the others and would take him directly back to his office. A sharp wind ruffled his dark brown hair, displacing one strand into his face as his car pulled up to the curb. Agent Miller climbed into the dark backseat, the car door slamming closed beside him and a lock clicking into place. He looked up. The barrel of a pistol was pointed at his forehead. He froze.

“Hello, Agent Miller. Wie geht es Ihnen? I’m so glad we finally got a moment alone. I apologize for the circumstances but you know how the politics are these days… it’s so… toxic. Ja? Now, be a good boy and hand me the glock you have at your hip,” a young woman smiled on the seat beside him. She was wearing all black and blended in against the dark leather seats and tinted windows. Agent Miller frowned, his hands unmoving.

“That doesn’t seem fair, does it? You’re putting me at a disadvantage here.”

“Don’t underestimate yourself like that, Agent Miller. You and I both know what you’re capable of,” she chuckled mockingly but her sunglasses hid her true meaning. “Give me your gun, now.” Her voice was hard and cool like a porcelain plate, one of the perfect edges with a chip. Agent Miller raised his hand slowly and moved his jacket to the side, showing his holster. As soon as she had his gun in her hand she tapped the glass partition between them and the driver, signaling him to drive.

“Where are we going?” Agent Miller sighed calmly, leaning back against the seat. Y/N smiled, pleased at his temperament. It made things easier.

“One of my favorite places in New York City,” she answered with a smirk, a gun still trained at the man beside her though it had been lowered.

“And what kind of place could that be, god forbid?” Agent Miller asked rhetorically and looked over at the window beside him.

“The Plaza Hotel,” she answered slowly and shifted in her seat. Her pleated leather skirt shifted across her black stockings, showing more of her thigh, fleshy and round. Agent Miller noticed it and smirked, the comedy of the situation being too much for him to take seriously. The car stopped at the back of the hotel by the service entrance. Men exited out of the building and held a door open, waiting as Y/N escorted the CIA agent inside. Agent Miller followed her calmly as he searched for someone who could help him.

“No one’s here. It’s off-season,” she sighed lightly and pushed him into an elevator.

“It’s never off-season in New York,” Agent Miller raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“Surprise, surprise.”

They took the elevator up to the top floor. Agent Miller’s hands began to sweat as he was led out of the elevator and around the corridor to a suite, separated from the others.

“You must get a good salary,” Agent Miller cracked as the woman jerked the gun towards the door of the suite. He kept his hands visible as he entered the room and looked around. The room was large and was actually made up of multiple rooms. In the center of the living room area, a chair had been left out.

“Sit down and make yourself comfortable. Bitte.” She had a way of talking that sounded like a purr but it was clear to Agent Miller that her words were more threatening than they sounded. Still, it was hard to take her seriously. It was hard to believe that this woman was the deadliest spy in East Germany.

“Danke schön,” Agent Miller muttered, his American accent muddling the German.

"Kannst du Deutsch sprechen, Herr Miller?” Y/N pretended to sound surprised as she closed and bolted the lock. “I’m flattered, really,” she smiled and removed her long black coat. Slowly she placed the coat on a couch’s arm and pulled off the blonde wig on her head, revealing her dark hair beneath which fell into a messy bob around her shoulders, over her dark mauve blouse. Last she removed her sunglasses and folded them neatly on her coat. Then she met his eyes.

“Nein? Well, then it's good I’m so fluent in English. You would never tell by my accent. At least, you didn’t the last time we met.”

“We’ve met before?” Agent Miller asked and shifted in his chair.

“Oh yes.” She smiled and dimples deepened on her cheeks.

An image came back to him, one of a young woman dropping a stack of manuscripts in the lobby of a hotel where they had been investigating the last crime scene. She’d been wearing a long brown wig and tortoiseshell glasses. She even had brown contacts in her eyes to hide her true eye color. He’d stopped to help her collect the manuscripts.

Oh gosh, thank you so much. So sorry about that. My boss is going to kill me. Thank you! She’d blushed as he handed her the papers. He’d met her before. She’d shown herself to him just to play with him. He scowled.

“Now I feel even more at a disadvantage.”

“How? After all, you’re the big-shot CIA agent, due for a promotion any day now… and I’m just a little girl. I don’t need any real smarts, not when I can just use my good looks to get what I want. Right, Agent Miller?” Her voice darkened as she finished, flashing with resentment. “You could fight me right now. It’s just the two of us. I’m surprised you didn’t. You’ve had ample opportunities to but you blindly follow my orders. It’s not that you’re scared to hurt me, you aren’t that sexist.”

“I don’t see the point of fighting when you’ve put so much work into getting me alone. I assume you have something to say.” Agent Miller swallowed, his cool facade slipping slightly as the woman approached him slowly.

“Aw how chivalrous of you! Oh, but what if I told you that I was only interested in getting you alone so that I could finally get even with you.” Y/N twirled the gun around her pointer finger and shifted it to his chest. He stiffened.

“Get even?”

“Settle the score,” she offered with a shrug.

“I don’t think I follow,” Agent Miller frowned warily.

“Then let me explain,” Y/N purred and with quick movements, she removed a pair of handcuffs from the back of her skirt and closed them tightly around both of his wrists, tying his hands around the back of the heavy chair. His eyes widened slightly when he realized what she had done.

“The fuck…” he started but she cut him off quickly.

“You didn’t think I could outsmart you or get the upper hand… you thought you could so easily catch me. And what a good job you’ve done!” She crossed her arms across her chest and set the gun down, smiling. Agent Miller averted his gaze, staring at the upper corner of the room. He clenched his jaw and struggled against the handcuffs for a brief moment.

“Haven’t you figured it out yet, Agent Miller?”

“Figured what out?” He snapped impatiently.

“I've been planning this for months. Do you really think I accidentally removed my flashdrive wrong, coincidentally leaving you all of the information that i’ve gathered since starting my mission? You’ve really underestimated me,” she clucked her tongue and kicked off her high heels, standing barefoot in her pantyhose on the dark pink shag carpet.

“I knew you’d find the mistake, I wanted you to. You did everything you were supposed to do, good boy,” she carded her fingers through his dark hair. The soft warm lighting in the room brought out the freckles across his pale face. Just as he started to turn his eyes to hers, she yanked his hair back so that he was looking up at her. “But how did this special agent who graduated from MIT of all places, end up in this position?”

“Did you do all of this just to show me how smart you are?” Agent Miller growled as she continued to pull at his roots.

“Something like that,” she smiled again, “I get off when men think they’re smarter than I am. I like proving them wrong… and then killing them.”

“Is that your plan for tonight?” He tried to keep a level voice as the smell of her perfume wafted down to his nose. She shook her head slightly and chuckled.

“You’ve been trained to resist torture, so there won’t be much that I can get out of you that way. And anyway, there isn’t much that I don’t already know.” She released her grip on his hair and stepped back. Y/N moved to the bar cart, stocked with crystal jars of whiskey and bourbon.

“So what are you going to do to me?” Agent Miller raised an eyebrow as he watched her pour a small glass of whiskey. She turned slowly and approached him again, swirling the whiskey in her glass. She raised the glass to his lips and poured it gently into his mouth. He parted his lips for her, his eyes trained on her face.

“Whatever I want,” she whispered and pulled the glass from his lips. Agent Miller raised his eyebrow, swallowing.

“Won’t your government disapprove?” He scoffed and shifted in the seat, calming himself down. His body was starting to get hot and his collar got tighter.

“Shhh,” she shushed him, a finger pressed against her own lips. Y/N approached him again and trailed one manicured finger from his arm to his hand. He shivered beneath her touch and his heart began to race. He felt his pulse in his stomach as she carded her fingers through his hair again, softer this time. She placed one knee on the chair between his thighs, pressing against his crotch. She tipped his head back with the edge of her nail beneath his jaw and leaned in close, exhaling beside his jaw. Seeing an opportunity, Agent Miller tried to kick her, jutting his knee up because it wasn’t restrained. She stopped him quickly, forcing him back into the chair, not missing a beat. His breath caught in his throat and he nearly choked on it. Her hand wrapped around his throat and squeezed but not harshly. His skin was warm beneath her hand and she smiled, her white teeth flashing.

She pressed her knee sharply into his thigh, holding his leg down, and slid it closer to the top of his crotch. She chuckled softly when she felt the outline of his cock inside his pants with the side of her thigh. Agent Miller’s body tensed below her, his hands folding into fists as he exhaled sharply.

“Aw does this hurt?” She cooed as she dug her knee further into the flesh of his thigh. His jaw tightened as she teased him. Moving closer, she rested both knees between his thighs, forcing them against the arms and pinning them in place. Suddenly she was so close and her thighs were pressing against his stomach…

How was it that he was getting an erection from this shit-show? How could she get this reaction out of him so fucking quickly? He tried to even out his breath as she shifted in the seat, her hands trailing up his chest to the knot of his tie.

“What did you drug me with?” Agent Miller muttered. Strands of her hair brushed against his cheeks.

“You don’t have to resist it, Agent Miller.” She ran her hands down his sides beneath his dark blue suit jacket. His body was full and firm, and warm. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she whispered against his forehead.

“What did you put in my drink…” he repeated, his voice wavering in strength as her hand moved down his stomach to the front of his pants. His erection was pronounced and visible, pushing against the fly of his trousers. She must have given him something, something to get this response. He wasn’t even that turned on. He sighed, frustrated and mad. He turned his head to the side, avoiding her soft lips.

“You think I have to drug you to get this kind of response? Silly boy,” she slid off of his lap and sat on the edge of the couch in front of him. She crossed her legs at first and allowed her eyes to trail up his body like a man would to a woman. Agent Miller stared back, his blue eyes hard. She giggled and reached up her skirt, hooking her hands under her pantyhose and pulled it down her thighs. She rolled the pantyhose slowly down her calves and slipped it off her feet. Despite his best efforts, Agent Miller watched her closely, studying the way she pushed the pantyhose to the side with her foot.

“I prefer genuine responses, it helps with my ego,” she broke the silence and watched with a sly smile as Agent Miller swallowed. With a sigh she stood and leaned over the CIA agent, her hands gripped around the arm rests. “Are you embarrassed? The high and mighty CIA agent succumbing so quickly to someone like me?” She teased him sharply, a glint of malice behind her bright eyes. “Tell me, Agent Miller. You’re thinking about me… you want me to touch you more. You want to see what I could do to you.”

Agent Miller cocked his head slightly and sighed, pretending to be disinterested. Y/N grabbed his face, her fingers digging into either side of his jaw. When she kissed him, he exhaled, almost relieved. He kissed her back, forgetting himself and liking the way she tasted, the way her lips felt in his mouth. She pulled his face closer to hers, still hovering above him. She kissed him feverishly and he followed blindly, distracted by the pleasure found in each movement her lips made against his. Then as quickly as it had started, she pulled away and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Some of her lipstick was smudged across his mouth but he couldn’t tell. He was breathing heavily, his lips pulled apart so that he could catch his breath. She took a few steps back and grabbed a file from a nearby table. She flipped it open and turned the pages until she landed on the right one. She held the folder open in one hand and with the other she began to unbutton her blouse from the top down.

Agent Miller felt his cock throb as he watched her shrug off the silky blouse and drape it over the arm of the couch. When she turned he could see her black t-shirt bra fitted perfectly against her breasts. Her collarbones rose and fell as she breathed and Agent Miller nearly groaned. She read aloud from the file as she moved back to the chair.

“My records tell me that the last number of confirmed nuclear weapons in the American arsenal was 27,000. It’s been half a decade since that information was released to the Soviet Union. What is that number now?” She straddled his lap slowly, smoothing out her skirt over their legs. Agent Miller moved his eyes from her breasts to her face, trying to keep his face straight as he felt the woman’s hand unbuckle his belt.

“I can’t tell you that,” he managed as she played with the zipper of his fly, her fingers dancing over the hard bulge.

“Has the number grown?” She offered and slid her hand below his waistband. Her hand grazed the patch of his pubic hair before she reached his cock. He shivered and looked up at the ceiling of the hotel room. “More?” She asked softly as she wrapped her fingers around his erection, it was hot and wet in her hand. He was so sensitive already that he groaned softly when she touched him. She squeezed him softly and freed the hard length from his pants. She rubbed her hand up and down. Agent Miller panted softly as she masturbated him. His eyes snapped open and he watched her, their eyes locked.

“Has the number changed?” She asked again softly as the agent clenched his jaw.

“I can’t tell you that,” He fought the words out as her hand sped up.

“Are there less? Has the US been involved in a trade agreement for its nuclear weapons?” She pushed, her hand moving faster.

“Fuck…” Agent Miller panted as her grip tightened around him. His cheeks deepened with color and his chest shook as his climax built. Just as he felt like he was about to cum, Y/N pulled her hand away and clucked her tongue.

“You’re going to make this very hard on yourself,” she observed and smiled as she watched him pant. He was completely erect beneath her skirt, resting against her bare thigh. They stared at each other as he caught his breath. She snapped the folder closed and tossed it to the side, sighing impatiently.

“Who has the US traded with in the past year?” She asked, her hands holding his thighs down.

“That is public information. You don’t need me to tell you that.”

“I want you to tell me about the trade deals you haven’t made public,” she loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons. “Which countries have illegal trade agreements with the US?” She added before kissing his neck, sucking on the soft flesh until she started to make hickeys. With her freehand she held his cock still as she lowered herself onto his head. She moved her hips slowly up and down and pulled away to look at his face. His adam's apple quivered in his throat as she moved on top of him.

“I-I can’t-fuck,” he gasped softly as she started to shift her hips over his lap, taking him deeper, “I can’t tell you that.”

“Come on, Agent Miller,” she whispered against his ear, “be a good boy for me,” she smirked. “Does it feel good? Is this harder than torture?” She teased him as her hips sped up, rocking back and forth. Agent Miller moaned softly as she held his face to face her. His mouth was agape in pleasure as she began to bounce slightly, falling hard on his cock. He grunted as she went faster, moaning theatrically against his lips which she refused to kiss.

“Do you want to cum, Agent Miller?” She whispered against his lips, her tongue touching his bottom lip with a flourish.

“Fuck…” he panted again.

“Can you cum for me?” She purred and Agent Miller nodded weakly, his eyes now closed. She smiled and pretended to pant, coaxing another deep moan from the man’s throat. “Has the US been sending nuclear weapons to West Germany?” She asked, raising herself up and holding him inside her. He weakly tried to thrust but she held him down.

“Y/N…” he whispered, his brows furrowed in frustration.

She snapped her hips down, taking him in again and hugging his cock. He gasped as his stomach tightened. He was going to cum.

“Has the US been sending nuclear weapons to West Germany?” She repeated sternly, not moving on his cock as the wave of climax started to dissipate again.

“I can’t fucking tell you that-fuck,” he growled when she moved her hips very slowly.

“But you can tell me, Agent Miller, and if you do, I’ll let you cum,” she stroked his cheek and kissed his jaw feverishly. “I want you to cum. Fuck, I want you to cum inside me too.” She whispered against his neck. When he resisted saying anything she pulled herself off and backed away towards the bed in the room beside them. Agent Miller watched her, his chest rising and falling quickly. Still watching him, she slid her leather skirt off, showing that she had no underwear on underneath. He felt like he might explode just by the sight of her.

“Jesus…” he groaned and let his head fall back against the back of the chair. He couldn’t help himself but look back as she undid her bra and dropped it to the floor. Standing completely naked, she laid back on the bed and propped herself up on her elbows.

“If you won’t cum, I’ll just have to finish myself off,” she sighed and trailed her fingers up her thigh to her cunt, wet from sex. “It just never feels as good.” She rubbed her fingers over her clit over and over again until she felt an orgasm grow. She curled her toes and bit her lip, grinding against her own hand. Agent Miller knew that he could look away but the scene was just too much to ignore. He watched as she arched her back and twisted her hips, reacting to the sensitivity of her clit. Her eyes danced below her eyelids as she thought up fantasies to fuel her climax. Rubbing harder, she started to moan softly and quivered. Agent Miller pulled at the handcuffs, struggling to remain calm as he watched her touch herself. As her orgasm finally arrived, she collapsed back onto the mattress and caught her breath.

“Enough,” Agent Miller sneered from the chair, still erect and horny. “At least get me out of these so I can fuck you the right way.”

Y/N smiled and hopped off of the bed, her tits bouncing slightly as she did.

“You want to fuck me, Agent Miller?” She leaned close to his face again. He stared back at her, his jaw set.

“Let’s get it over with,” he answered nonchalantly and she tilted his jaw up but didn’t kiss him. She undid the handcuffs around his wrists and he sprang to his feet, grabbing at her body. He kissed her feverishly, lapping at her mouth with his tongue hungrily. She pushed off his suit jacket and unbuttoned his shirt as he slipped off his shoes and pants. They didn’t have time to remove his shirt before he entered her. He took hold of her hips to pull her closer and wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her close to his chest. She clawed her hands down his dress shirt, her knees high on either side of his waist. She moaned loudly and he studied the way she opened her mouth to do it, mesmerized by the way she reacted to him inside of her.

“Good boy,” she praised him when he sped up, hitting her G-spot. She reached her hand down between their bodies and rubbed at her clit, coaxing a stronger orgasm.

“Don’t touch yourself,” Agent Miller ordered, short of breath, “let me do it.” He massaged her clit himself, his large hands covering the front of her cunt. Her mouth fell open into a loud gasp as he synchronized his thrusts to the way he rubbed her clit.

“Fuck,” he exhaled tightly as he felt her flex around him.

“Keep going,” she wrapped her fingers around his neck and pulled him closer to her face, their mouths exchanging exhales, “fuck me right.”

He kissed her deeply as he moaned, the muscles in his back tightening beneath her nails. She was so tight and wet, he nearly came just thinking about it as he moved. She carded her fingers through his hair and pulled as he chased their peaking climax. He was grunting now as she began to finish around him, shaking without much control. He moved his hands back to her hips and rocked himself deep inside of her as he brought on his orgasm. He came inside of her with loud grunts, thrusting until he’d finished completely. Only when he was done did he pull out and collapse beside her on the elegant duvet. He panted loudly, exhausted. They remained in silence until Y/N rolled over, putting her lips close to his ear.

“You know, I didn’t have to ask you all those questions. I already know the answers.” Her voice was serious and cold, Agent Miller eyed her.

“Then why did you ask?”

“I wanted to see you tied down,” she answered calmly. He raised his eyebrow and scoffed just before the sting of a cold, sterilized needle pinched his neck. Then he quickly went to sleep.

When he awoke, he found himself alone in the hotel room. Everything had been returned to normal and the place scrubbed for fingerprints. And she was gone. She’d gotten away again.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Masterlist (Cillianmesoftlyyy)

Last updated: 3/16/24

As requested, here yah go my lovelies! Series are indented separately to keep them together. One-shot stories are listed in numbered format. Requested fics have a "⭐️"

Neil Lewis:

The Gumshoe is a Girl's Best Friend (fluff)

Horror Movies (smut) Horror Movies Pt 1 Horror Movies Pt2

As You Wish (smut) As You Wish Pt 1 As You Wish Pt 2 ⭐️

Tommy Shelby:

In Love, in War (smut): In Love, in War Pt 1 In Love, in War Pt 2 In Love, in War Pt 3 In Love, in War Pt 4 In Love, in War Pt 5

At the Cabaret (smut): At the Cabaret Pt 1 At the Cabaret Pt 2 At the Cabaret Pt 3 At the Cabaret Pt 4 At the Cabaret Pt 5

Cillian Murphy:

Under the Weather (fluff)

Method Acting (smut)

So New (fluff)

Like a Good Neighbor... (smut)

Cut the Shit-delusion, Sweetheart (fluff)

Nerves (smut) ⭐️

Dr. Jonathan Crane:

The Experiment (smut + my first work) The Experiment Pt 1 The Experiment Pt 2 The Experiment Pt 3

I Can Fix That... (smut) I Can Fix That Pt 1 I Can Fix That Pt 2 I Can Fix That Pt 3

Jonathan Breech:

The Ward (smut) The Ward Pt 1 The Ward Pt 2 The Ward Pt 3

Tom (The Party 2017):

Sweet Revenge (smut)

Agent Lenny Miller (Anna 2019):

How About It, Agent Miller? (smut)

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Sweet Revenge | Tom (The Party) x fem!reader

Summary: Tom is acting strange and it doesn't take long for a friend to notice while at a party celebrating their mutual friend's political victory. When she steps in to question him about it, she learns more than she thought she would... but it makes their ride in the elevator a little more interesting.

Warnings: Infidelity (from multiple characters), drug use, dubious consent, semi-public sex, smut, p in v, guns, mentions of attempted murder, revenge.

word count: 3386k

Nothing Matters- The Last Dinner Party 🎶

Personal Jesus- Depeche Mode 🎵

Note: Sorry I disappeared for so long! I was dealing with some things and had to put Cillian to the side. I've missed this awesome community! I hope you all still remember me lol.

Please read warnings before continuing, thanks!

She heard about the election on the news that afternoon. Saying that she was ecstatic was an understatement. In fact, the moment she heard that Janet won (as she assumed she would) she dressed quickly and arrived at the celebratory party early. She fixed the bunched up fabric on her thigh and scratched an itch beneath the collar around her neck. She raised her fist to knock on the door when the elevator doors pinged and she turned. Tom stumbled out of the elevator, slightly disheveled and sweaty. When he noticed her he ran his hand through his hair and sniffed loudly, his eyes rolling over to meet hers. 

“Tom?” She smiled, her tone friendly and soft. Her eyes traveled up his body, dressed in a dark tailored suit. 

Tom cleared his throat before responding, strangely breathless. “Hello.” He looked behind him at the empty elevator and debated going back inside. The doors slid closed and he turned back dejectedly like a child caught in a crime. 

“You’re here early too,” she rubbed the top of her shoe down her leg, an anxious gesture. 

“Right, right… it's early. Maybe I should come back later.” He muttered beneath his breath and jabbed at the elevator call button. 

“I’m sure it's alright. I’m here early too,” she studied his nervous posture and the way his eyes darted between the hallway’s walls, anywhere but her face. “Where’s Marianne?” 

His face twitched at the mention of his wife’s name. His shirt was sticky against his skin and he wanted to leave. This was a mistake. 

“She’s coming later, told me to go ahead.” He sniffed loudly again and jerked his finger at the door behind her. “Have you already knocked?” His dark hair fell into his eyes where crow’s feet gathered. 

“No, I was just about to.” 

The elevator door opened with a second ping. Tom looked at the open doors and back to her. “Fuck all,” he cursed beneath his breath and met her at the door to Janet’s apartment. She resisted the urge to smell him, though his cologne wandered easily the short distance to her nose (notes of bergamot and spice). 

“Are you alright, Tom?” She asked cautiously and watched as his left hand flexed. He clenched his jaw and forced out a laugh. 

“Never better,” he rang the doorbell and waited anxiously as his heart raced in his chest. Janet opened the door and greeted them with overwhelming excitement. Tom’s resolve weakened and he struggled to remain level headed as he greeted his wife’s friend. This was not how it was originally supposed to go but he still had time… 

Janet invited them into the apartment and talked with her as Tom excused himself with a shaky smile. As soon as the door was closed behind him, he removed his jacket and checked the holsters on either side of his body, draped over his shoulders. Sweat pooled on his shirt and he fanned his hands over it, hoping it would dry. 

The girl watched the bathroom door while keeping a polite smile on her face for Janet who was retelling the events of the day. Loud music erupted from the speakers in the living room and she jumped, her hair standing on end for a brief moment. 

“That’s Bill, will you excuse me for a moment?” Janet wiped her hands on the front of her apron and disappeared into the next room. Her conversation with her husband was muffled by the music. She looked once again at the bathroom door and wiped her clammy hands on her forearms. There was something different about Tom and it irked her, not knowing what was going on. She was closest in age to Tom and Marianne and considered them her friends, though she didn’t actually know them well. She knew, however, that Tom had a problem with coke, all of the finance boys did. His attitude was stranger than usual, more paranoid and jumpy. The music quieted and Janet returned, humming happily to herself. As soon as she did, the doorbell rang and she spun around, clapping her hands excitedly. 

Tom splashed his face with cold water and let it run down his neck, far below his collar. He shivered beneath the water’s temperature and looked up into the medicine cabinet’s mirror. He imagined Bill in the next room, smugly splayed out in his old recliner. He imagined how good it would feel to shoot him, to get revenge against the man that defiled his wife. His wife. Anger flashed in his eyes and he bit down on the sleeve of his suit jacket, screaming silently into the fabric. He heard the doorbell ring and jumped, his heart dropped painfully into his stomach. He checked the gun in his holster for the fiftieth time that day, counting the round of bullets in the chamber. He waited until the new guests moved further into the apartment before leaving the bathroom. 

The girl watched Tom leave the bathroom and pause just before the door frame into the living room. His stomach quivered beneath his dress shirt as he breathed heavily. When she noticed him spin his wedding around his finger in an anxious instinct, she averted her eyes and flushed. He spun right around and went back into the bathroom. She followed him with her eyes, brows furrowed in extreme distress. 

Tom closed the door again and rubbed his face with his shaking hands. He rummaged through his pockets and retrieved a vial of white powder (coke… obvi). Yes, he had a problem. Obviously. Tom wiped the edge of the sink clean with his elbow and shook powder from the vial onto the surface. He arranged the powder in a line and did the line, shaking his head and sitting back against the rim of the bathtub. A smudge of powder stayed on his upper lip, providing evidence of what he’d done. He knocked his knuckles against the soft sides of his head and tried to regain control. He just needed to act normal, go into the living room and be fucking normal. He wiped away the traces of coke on the sink and fixed his hair in the mirror, trying to slick the greased strands back over his head. 

The girl twirled the cord of her necklace around her finger, her eyes stuck on the bathroom door. She jumped again when the door slammed open and Tom stumbled out, his pupils dilated and his eyes crazed. Tom bounded for the doorway into the living room and stopped abruptly. He walked back and forth, muttering beneath his breath as he did. 

“Tom?” She approached him carefully. Her voice startled him from his erratic state. He licked his lips nervously. 

“I forgot something in my car,” Tom blurted out and spun around a last time, walking quickly to the car. She followed him immediately, her eyes trained on the width of his shoulders. 

“I’ll go with you,” she insisted with a backwards glance at the living room, loud with guests. Tom didn’t respond as he made wide strides to the elevator doors. His breath was heavy and hard as he punched the call button and looked down at her, standing at his side. 

“What are you doing?” He asked. 

“I’m going with you.” She answered apprehensively. Tom cleared his throat, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. 

“You don’t need to do that,” his eyes flicked back at the apartment door. When the elevator doors opened he sighed, debating what to do. He knew better than to go back into the apartment. He’d have to come back another time. She followed him into the elevator and pressed the lobby button for him, her ears growing hot. Tom coughed into his closed fist and started to sweat as the doors closed. 

“Is everything alright, Tom?” She asked him directly as the doors closed and the elevator sunk below the floor. 

“Fine. Fine.” He avoided eye contact and put his hands on his hips, the crotch of his pants bunching around his thighs. He looked up at the floor numbers flashing across the screen above the doors. 

“You don’t seem fine, Tom. What the hell were you doing in there just now?” She raised her eyebrow and crossed her arms. Tom groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ve just had a long day.”

“Just one?” She asked him with a grunt. “You look like you haven’t slept in days… plural.” 

“Bitch.” Tom snapped and crossed his arms, mirroring her. 

The elevator jolted suddenly and the lights flickered. They stopped their bickering for a moment. She noticed the floor number had stopped at three. The buttons for each floor flashed across the board. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” Tom repeated frustratedly and jabbed at the buttons. 

“Stop, you’ll make it worse.” She slapped his hands away and he groaned, resting his head against the wall of the elevator. 

“It’s stuck,” he mumbled and she nodded, her lips falling into a nervous frown. 

“Yes, it appears so.” She studied the buttons and jabbed at the one labeled “call.” 

Hello? The operator answered after a few seconds. 

“Hello, hi. We’re stuck in the elevator.”

I’ll call the fire department and maintenance. There might be a delay due to the parade traffic but we should have you out soon. Call again if anything happens.

“Damn, it sounds like we’ll be in here for a while.” 

“Fuck, just my fucking luck.” 

“You say fuck a lot,” she laughed off some of her discomfort. 

“Fuck you,” Tom added disheartedly. 

She moved back into a corner of the elevator and watched as Tom leaned into the wall, his breath fogging up the gold aluminum wall. 

“You might as well tell me what it is, now that we’ll be here for a while.” She looked down at her shoes and cleared her throat. “Just tell me,” she urged him but Tom only rolled his eyes, the reflection of it projected back at her. 

“Is it the coke?” She tried and Tom laughed. 

“You think I’m like this because of the coke?”

“You’re not giving me any other reason.” She shrugged and Tom turned to face her. 

“That’s not the reason.” 

“You have some of it left above your lip there,” she gestured to her top lip and Tom wiped his mouth quickly with his sleeve.

Tom sighed and slid down the wall into a crouching position, his hands clasped together in front of his face. He exhaled deeply and looked at the opposite wall, away from her. 

“I found out the other day that Marianne has been cheating on me.” His voice wavered as he spoke. 

“What?” She gasped softly. 

He twisted the wedding ring on his finger and chuckled darkly. 

“It’s been going on for months.” 

“Do you know who they are? The person that she’s cheating with?” She asked slowly, her brows furrowed and her heart beating quickly. 

“Yes,” he answered again with a chuckle, his voice pained. “She’s been fucking Bill.” 

“Bill?!” She slapped a hand across her mouth. “Her advisor? Bill’s cheating on Janet? What the fuck?!” The words all fell out of her mouth. Tom shook his head and with one angry movement chucked his wedding ring across the elevator at the opposite wall. The small piece of metal bounced off the wall with a sharp noise and settled between them on the floor. 

“So you were going to confront him?” She asked, everything coming together. 

He nodded and without warning, started to sob. She immediately knelt beside Tom and patted his back awkwardly. Tom, rather comedically, collapsed into her chest, his hands grappling at her sides. Her heart began to race as his face inched closer to her breast. Her hands shaked as she combed his hair (heavy with product) out of his eyes. 

“He stole my wife! He stole my wife,” he cried against her chest. 

“I’m sorry, Tom. I’m so sorry,” she whispered as she carded her fingers through his hair. The texture of his warm skin beneath her fingertips distracted her. The smell of his expensive cologne and hair product flooded her system. She resisted the urge to lick the scent from his neck, taut with tendons. Geez, she was a creep. Tom’s baby-like tears stained her shirt and made the material stick to the skin below. 

“Does Marianne know that you know?” She tried to focus herself back on the situation. 

“No, I saw it on her phone,” he hiccuped pitifully. “They’ve been fucking in my bed, our bed!” 

She shushed him softly as he started to cry again. His manic sobs racked his thick and muscular body. 

“Are you going to divorce her?” She whispered and Tom shook his head softly.

“I don’t know. I don’t know.” 

Tom pulled away and laid his head back against the elevator wall. She could make out all of the freckles and sun spots across his high cheekbones. She sighed as she reached a hand to his face and swept a tear away from his jaw. Tom turned his clear blue eyes to her’s. His wide lips quivered slightly as he panted from all of his emotions. 

“What she and Bill did is inexcusable, Tom. She doesn’t deserve you if she thinks this casually unfaithful behavior is ok.” She was on her knees now, her thighs flexed beneath her dress. 

Tom’s eye traveled up her body, starting on her fleshy thighs. She watched him curiously. Was he doing what she thought he was? Was he checking her out? Tom’s hand rose from the floor beside him and moved to her knee. 

“Y/N…” he whispered pitifully. Her heart fluttered in her chest and she nearly choked on her own exhale. His thumb rubbed circles into her exposed skin. She knew that she shouldn’t but what more harm could it do? Tom wanted to get back at his wife and she wanted to be fucked by Tom. Win/win situation- no, stop it. Don’t look at me like that! It’s totally ethical. Besides, the way his body leaned into her brought about a powerful force of attraction between them. The streaks of graying hair caught the fluorescent light like plastic rhinestones. 

She leaned forward, into his mouth and exhaled softly against his lips. Tom kissed her first, capturing her lips into a harsh kiss. She kissed him back and tugged gently at the roots of his hair. He moaned excitedly around her lips. Words failed them as they kissed. Their hands spoke softly to each other, begging and asking for more. She pushed off Tom’s coat, exposing the holster strung between his shoulder blades. 

“What the fuck?” She whispered, her eyes wide. “What the hell are you doing with a fucking gun, Tom?” 

“I-I just wanted to get back at them, at him. I’m just so angry,” Tom panted emotionally, his hands shaking. She looked between him and the gun and sighed. 

“I can think of another way to get back at them that doesn’t involve this,” she pointed at the gun strapped around his shoulder. Tom looked up at her, his eyes wide as she closed the distance again. She rose on her knees so that she could be taller than him and cupped his jaw. 

“I can think of something that we should do to get back at them,” she whispered against his wide lips. Tom didn’t respond, his heart beating fast and not just because of the cocaine.

“It goes something like this,” she kissed him with hesitant pecks before settling into a deep rhythm. His hands finally started to move up her hips, grasping the edge of her waist. His breath labored against her and she allowed a shuttering moan to escape; a product of pent up energy. 

“Tom… Tom..” she muttered between kisses, her hands pulled up on his stiff white collar, urging him closer. 

“Mmhm..” Tom hummed softly and guided her onto her back, sitting up between her knees. He towered over her and panted, his hands fumbling over his fly. She pulled down her own underwear and kicked it off her ankles. Tom pulled down his pants slightly and boxer briefs, immediately freeing his cock from his pants. He grabbed her thighs and pulled her closer. She slid across the elevator floor and slammed against his waiting hips. She giggled nervously, her face pink. 

“Are you wet enough?” Tom asked quickly, his hand fisting his erection. His dress shirt trailed over his hands, hiding some of his actions from her view. She nodded eagerly and raised the excess of her dress, pulling the material over her upper thighs. Tom nodded breathlessly and entered her without much warning, she gasped and clenched her fists. 

Tom cursed loudly beneath his breath as he filled her up completely. Her body stretched to accommodate him and the sensation sent shivers up both of their bodies like a cold chill. Tom thrusted at a slow rhythm as he worked himself deeper inside her. She whimpered loudly and steadied herself against the hall of the elevator as she slid back and forth on the floor. 

As her body opened more and more, his thrusts became harder and faster. He leaned over her and planted his hands firmly on the floor on either side of her waist. Bringing his hips closer to her, he fucked her aggressively. Instead of dragging out his hips before each thrust, he stayed as deep as possible inside of her and thrusted farther. 

“God you’re so good,” Tom panted as his mouth fell open into a moan. His eyebrows furrowed to keep him focused. 

“Mm-Marianne is an idiot,” she whined around her words and dug her fingers into Tom’s back. Tom fucked her faster as a response, proving himself to her. 

“Fuck- take it. Take it.” He commanded and she gasped as her orgasm grew. He panted with his mouth held open, his hips thudding against her. His curses flew from his mouth in octaves that grew higher as he felt himself spilling over the edge. 

“Tommmm,” she trailed off, mumbling incoherently. He slowed down as he reached his climax so that he could see her reaction. He lowered himself closer to her and laced his fingers gently around her throat. Pulling one of her legs closer around his hip, he fucked her deeply but slow. His fingers flexed and tightened around her soft neck. He studied her closely, sweat pooling between his shoulders and the peak of his brow.

“I know, honey. I know. Marianne could never handle this but you like it when I fuck you. You’d beg me, wouldn’t you?” He whispered as his cock began to flex inside of her. She squeezed her thighs and he grunted, forcing himself through her body’s automatic resistance. She nodded and licked her lips. 

“Fuck, you feel so much better than her.” He continued to grunt, his teeth gritting. She pulled at the graying roots of his hair, her palms cradling his face. With a sharp yell, Tom finished inside her. His hips rocked against her until he had spilled everything out inside her. Their panting filled the air between them and synced into a rhythm. 

“That was fucking amazing, Tom.” She whispered, her voice weak over her racing heart. 

“Kiss me,” Tom growled. She raised her head slightly to place a kiss on his chapped lips. They kissed sweetly, until a steady beeping noise drew them away from their bodies. The elevator’s panel lit up as it was restarted. They hurriedly separated. Tom tucked in his shirt and buttoned his pants. She pulled her underwear back on and smoothed down her hair. Seconds later, the elevator doors opened to a team of mechanics. The mechanics raised their eyebrows collectively at the couple inside, their faces flushed and sweaty handprints still visible on the elevator’s walls. 

“Thank you so much,” she tried to smile normally at the men as they stumbled out of the elevator. Tom gave the mechanics one more backwards glance before they hurried for the stairwell. Slamming the door closed behind them, Tom shoved her up against the wall inside the stairwell. The sound reverberated up the cement structure, ringing in her ears. He kissed her neck, sucking parts of her flesh to make small hickeys. She sighed as she pulled his face to meet her again and kissed him, her lips pulled into a smile.

“We should do this again,” Tom mumbled darkly against her lips. She nodded and bit his bottom lip gently. 

“How about right now?”   

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

As You Wish Pt. 2 | Neil Lewis x fem!reader

Summary| Neil, still thinking about the other day, invites y/n to Gumshoe Video's movie night. The theme (besides vampires) is the 1960s and so she dresses for the part. And like any good vampire thriller- only the good stuff happens after dark...

Warnings| age gap- reader (19) Neil Lewis (27), cursing, kissing, groping, teasing, unprotected sex, penetration, no fore-play.

word count: 4261K

Midnight City- M83 🎶

Our Swords- Band of Horses 🎵

Shout out to the lovely reader who requested a part 2! This is for you!

Please read warnings and continue at your own discretion, thanks!

She can hear the chatter from outside as rain plasters the wide display windows. She stops outside Gumshoe Video and peeks her head inside, sparing her hairdo from the storm outside. Her hair was pinned into a half-beehive and curled up around her shoulders like a young Pattie Boyd. The guests inside turn when the bells above the door announce her presence. They cheer and raise their red plastic cups in greeting and she laughs back, her smile dragging widely across her face. And there he is: Neil Lewis. He’s standing beside the box tv set with a bottle of cheap beer in his hand. He’s wearing a powder blue dress shirt from the seventies and a dark blue suit. His longish hair is swept out of his face and he smiles at something someone has said. When he looks over, he sees her, and his mouth falls open. 

“Oh my God! Where did you get this?” A woman swoops in from the side and admires her dress. 

“It’s a replica mod dress from the 60s. I made it,” she answered with a polite smile and allowed the woman to inspect the stitching. As she raised her eyes, they met Neil’s. His eyes widened slightly as he dropped them down to her thighs before traveling back up to her face. Her dress was boxy, like that of a mod dancer, and so short that it was barely fingertip length (to use school-girl terminology). She was dressed up as a gogo dancer, red vinyl boots and all, for the showing of Gumshoe Video’s The Kiss of the Vampire. Neil bit his tongue as his eyes crawled down her body. Her dark red dress had a high modest neckline but was sleeveless and short. The fabric was a tautly starched linen that didn’t move much as she walked. It hugged her waist with a thick belt but fared out around her thighs in a fixed shape. Her makeup was a copy of one of Twiggy’s famous looks with the exaggerated eyelashes and dark eyeliner. Her eyelids were a bright blue that clashed with her red clothing, a mixing of primary colors. When the woman stepped away, she advanced shyly, resisting the urge to bite her lip and ruin her lipstick. Neil cleared his throat and nodded quickly at Lucien whom he was talking to when she had come in. His eyes darted back and forth, between her and Lucien’s prop pipe. His long eyelashes fluttered as he stole glances at her between pretending to listen to Lucien. 

“Hey! Nice of you to join, I’m Jonathan.” Jonathan appeared beside her and offered his hand not holding a beer. She shook it and smiled. 

“Y/N, I tried to dress for the theme.” She looked down at her costume and he nodded emphatically. 

“I did too. I was going for Ringo Starr.” Jonathan twirled, showing off his bright pink military costume like the one Ringo wore for Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. She nodded and smiled. 

“I see the resemblance. Who is Neil supposed to be?” She jerked her head at Neil and Jonathan sighed. 

“He said that he was going as one of the Monkees but personally, I don’t see it.” 

“He must have run out of costumes,” she laughed and Jonathan shrugged dramatically. As she finished that sentence, Neil broke away from Lucien, slightly breathless and placed a hand on her back in greeting. She looked up at him, curling her toes inside her shoes. 

“You’re one of the Monkees?” She teased him lightly and Neil chuckled and shook his head. 

“I did have a hat on, it made more sense when I was wearing the hat.”

“So you were Micheal?” She asked and he gestured wildly at her for Jonathan, “See I told you someone would get it.” 

“That’s only because you both have weird niche knowledge,” Jonathan wrinkled his nose. “Uh oh, Lucien is talking to two strange women. I’m going to swoop in before he says something weird,” he hurried over to Lucien and patted him playfully on the head. Neil immediately looked down at her, his cool resolve slipping slightly. He was flustered. 

“Wow,” he gestured with both hands at her costume and she blushed self-consciously. He stuttered as he tried to say something coherent. “I’m uh, just uh… wow.” He scratched the back of his head and shoved his hands into his pockets, glancing around quickly before leaning in close to her ear. “Jesus Christ you smell good too.” He shook his head, forgetting what he was originally going to say. She smiled giddily. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

“Do you want to see my office?” Neil cleared his throat as he looked around, trying to look natural to everyone else in the store. His slumped posture and darting eyes would betray him if anyone cared to look at him long enough. He replaced his hand on the small of her back and swirled a finger across the fabric. She played with the hem of his blazer, blushing hard. 

“Hey, Neil!” A couple stopped in front of them and Neil jumped back to attention, his arm flying back behind his head and off of her body. He coughed briefly and cleared his throat. 

“Hey- hey! How’s it going?” He smiled distractedly and greeted his friends. They waited expectantly to be introduced to the girl and Neil gasped slightly, remembering. “Oh sorry, this is Y/N and Y/N, this is Buddy and Marcia.” He waved between them and they all nodded at each other politely, exchanging handshakes and smiles. “Enjoy the movie!” Neil said a little over enthusiastically and Buddy furrowed his brow, slightly concerned as they walked away. Jonathan found them at the makeshift bar and chuckled. 

“That’s the new girl,” he gestured with his cup and Marsha pursed her lip approvingly. 

On the other side of the room, Neil turned back to her and licked his lips. “So… my office?” He raised his eyebrows and jerked his thumbs at the separate office space in the back of the store. She giggled as she dug her toe into the ground and swayed slightly against him. Neil’s smile grew as he led her from the main store area and back into the office. When she passed through the door after him, Neil closed it and lowered himself slightly, his arms going out wide as he looked her up and down again mouthing, “oh my god.”

“So you like it?” She ran her hands down the front of her dress and shifted the weight on her feet proudly. 

“I mean, just look at you!” He ran his hand over his mouth and stepped in closer. The desk knocked softly into her tailbone as she retreated. “I love it,” he emphasized and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She was leaning back against the desk, her legs spread and her weight evenly distributed. Neil stepped closer, his body firmly between her legs. She worked up the courage to touch him, sliding her palms around his waist beneath his blazer. 

“Your fucking thighs,” Neil whispered breathlessly as his index fingers traced around the small hairs on her upper thighs. “God…” he gasped softly, already feeling himself get hot under the collar. She rubbed her nose against his and gave him a soft peck on the mouth. 

“Is that all I get?” He whispered with a furrowed brow. He ran his knuckles down her neck and tried not to gasp when he found her breasts. She kissed him again, pulling herself up higher by his shoulders. Her fingers dug into the plush fabric of his jacket’s shoulder pads. He responded immediately, shoving his tongue into her mouth. Neil pawed desperately at her, his hands grabbing at her thighs, her breasts, and her head. He pushed her up onto the desk and she whined in protest as he now towered above her. He chuckled breathlessly and dragged his hands up the inside of her thighs. 

“Shh,” he smiled when she glowered, wanting to cling to him as she kissed him. When she stopped wiggling, he leaned down and kissed her slowly. She held onto his hips by hooking her fingers in his belt loops. His hands prodded further, stroking the elastic band of her underwear around her pelvis. She was wearing cotton underwear and Neil could feel the wetness pooling at her opening through the fabric. He started to fall apart as he stroked her clothed cunt with his long fingers. She squirmed on the desk in front of her and the heels of her gogo boots knocked against the desk, her back arched into him. She moved his hands beneath her skirt, looking up at him with wide suggestive eyes. 

“Here? Now?” Neil whispered, slightly shocked at the girl’s suggestion. “Are you insane?” He whispered beside her ear, his voice laced with perverted desire though he tried to shake it from his voice, still wanting to be the voice of reason. 

“Neil…” she muttered at him and petted his crotch with slow, heavy moves. 

“What?” He whispered, an edge in his voice. His forehead was still creased and he tried to even out his breath as his cock pushed against every touch of her hand. 

“You’re supposed to say, As. You. Wish.” She squeezed her thighs around his legs, just below his hips and wrapped her hands around his hips. Neil raised an eyebrow and laughed lightly. He watched her as she bore into his eyes, thick with desire. He looked her up and down and reached both hands beneath her skirt again, pulling her underwear down over her butt. She had to lean back slightly as he dragged the cotton wad down over her gogo boots. He looked down at the underwear in his palm and trilled his lips lowly. 

“This is a bit more involved than I was expecting but I’m all for it,” he shrugged with a loose smirk and put the underwear on the desk beside them. She smiled and pulled on his dress shirt, prompting him to give her a satisfying kiss. 

“You were the one who suggested that I see your office,” she giggled quietly. 

“I needed a sense of adventure.” He muttered against her lips, his eyes closed. 

“Neil… Adventure?” She smiled lazily and stroked his jaw, her short nails running dully down his neck. 

“I like the sound of that,” he continued to kiss her, his nose crushing against her cheek. A knock at the door made them both jump and Neil turned around quickly, shielding her from the view of whomever was at the door. 

“Neil! We’re starting the movie now and Jonathan doesn’t know how to work the player. You gotta fix it.” Lucien yelled through the door. His silhouette showed through the frosted glass. 

“Fuuuuuck,” he groaned quietly and rubbed his face. His erection fell slightly at the interruption and he sighed. “Ok, Lucien. I’m coming!” He smiled falsely as he yelled back his response.   

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Lucien mumbled beneath his breath and hurried back into the store area. 

“I’ll see you out there,” Neil cringed and fixed his suit as much as he could. 

“Break a leg,” she smiled and hopped off of the desk, her underwear still sitting on the desk. She pulled them back on over her gogo boots and followed him out. Neil walked around to the back of the tv and checked the cables. She watched from the back of the room, a deep blush spreading across her face as she noticed the places where her red lipstick had left smudges around his mouth. She smiled down at her boots and bit her lip, trying to compose herself. Neil stepped back in front of the tv with Jonathan and announced the movie, lipstick still smudged around his wide lips. 

“And now, Gumshoe Video presents the 1963 The Kiss of the Vampire,” he extended his hands to the small square tv and waggled his fingers. The audience laughed and hooted. Some glanced over at her and smiled, she blushed deeper. 

“Nice touch,” one guy called from the couches and Neil stared at him blankly, his eyes then slowly drifting to her. She pointed at her mouth and rested her chin on her fist. Neil laughed it off and winked as he stepped aside and the movie started. She sat down on the couch in the back and scooted to the side as Neil joined her, collapsing with an anxious exhale. 

“Kissed by a vampire,” he shook his head, “why didn’t I think of that? That would have been a perfect costume.” He spoke with his hands, and shrugged his shoulders. She hid her face in her hands to hide her smile. “Was it really that noticeable?” He whispered and she nodded, embarrassed. 

“Sorry,” she giggled quietly and wiped the lipstick smudges from his face with her thumb. Jonathan moved around the spread of couches and perched on the edge of the couch beside them. 

“Nice touch, Neil. I think it makes the viewing experience more realistic.” Jonathan snarked and Neil rolled his eyes. 

“Shut up, Jonathan.” Neil sighed and massaged his face, pulling down on the skin. Jonathan winked at her and she smiled. Jonathan drifted off as the movie started and the title card appeared. As Neil relaxed into the couch, his hand found her thigh and rubbed his knuckles across her thigh. She leaned against him, her head resting against the wing of his shoulder as he moved his arm around her. 

…

“What’d you think of the movie?” Neil shoved his hands into his pockets as they locked up Gumshoe Video, the store now completely dark. 

“It’s a classic vampire movie,” she shrugged and smiled, “no notes,” she added. 

It had stopped raining but the sidewalks were littered with shallow puddles of dark water. Neil chuckled and placed one hand on the small of her back as they turned away from the store. 

“I thought you’d like it,” Neil smirked and she raised her eyebrow. 

“Why?”

“You would 100% be the kind of girl to get abducted by an insanely attractive vampire and fall in love with him.” 

“Well would he suck my blood at the end and kill me?” She pretended to consider the universe that Neil was suggesting. 

“Oh of course,” Neil shrugged his shoulders up to his ears and furrowed his brows playfully. 

“I can’t see it,” she shook her head and clasped her hands behind her back as they walked. She looked down at her shoes and smiled. Neil fell silent for a moment, his eyes once again trailing her up and down. 

“Have I told you how amazing you look?” Neil cleared his throat. 

“Yes, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again,” she blushed and cocked her head to the side, looking into his eyes as they walked. Neil wet his lips and stopped, looking her up and down once again. 

“You look amazing.” He said seriously and she looked away, self-conscious. They were stopped in front of Neil’s house, a two-story craftsman in a dark green color that looked dark blue in the darkness. She looked from the house to Neil’s face, the front porch light reflecting in his bright blue eyes. Neil laughed awkwardly when he realized that they had stopped at his house. 

“Will you come inside?” He twisted his hips casually, jerking his head once at the front door. The girl exhaled shakily and nodded. 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She answered with a nervous smile. 

Neil broke into a large smile, the lines of his cheekbones stretching down to the edge of his jaw beside his pink lips. They climbed the stairs to the house and Neil let her inside, his eyes traveling up the length of her body as she stepped into the house in front of him. Neil closed the door behind him, exhaling slowly. She met his eyes when she turned back and smiled shyly when she noticed how he stared at her. 

“Do you want to kiss me?” She asked him quietly. Neil nodded emphatically, his hand still on the doorknob behind him. 

“Then come here and kiss me,” she whispered and turned fully to face him. She felt her cunt grow hot and heat billowed down her thighs. Neil clenched his jaw and swallowed, his eyes now fixed on the girl’s mouth. He pushed himself off of the door and approached her, his hips swaying slightly as he walked. She kept her arms by her side as Neil wrapped gentle fingers around her upper arms, right above her elbows, and held his lips within inches of hers. She savored the way he smelled, like laundry detergent and mouthwash. He smelled like what she imagined domestic masculinity would smell like if it could be bottled. She sighed softly before he kissed her, his lips drawing hers between his. He held her in place, not aggressively, and kissed her, moving his head occasionally to taste her from different angles. 

When he broke away she took a step back and clasped her hands behind her back girlishly. Neil laughed like a schoolboy, shocked by the surge of desire and energy he felt just from the kiss. 

“Can I take you upstairs?” He leaned his arm against the wall and pointed to the staircase in front of them. She bit her lip, trying to stop from laughing hysterically from nerves. She took a step backwards and stepped onto the bottom step, facing Neil. 

“Ask me again,” she teased and bit her lip harder. Neil exhaled sharply as he felt his cock twitch aggressively in his pants. The dark room threw her body into shadow and the windows above the stairs illuminated her silhouette. He wet his lips and asked again. 

“Can I take you upstairs?” 

She could still make out his blue eyes in the dark as the windows provided enough light to catch their color. She took a few more steps up, still facing him. 

“As you wish,” she whispered. Neil laughed, thrilled by her little game. He hurried up the stairs but she kept a few steps between them at all times until she reached the top of the stairs. She backed up into the wall beside the window and allowed Neil to close in on her. Neil held her hips in his large hands and kissed her again, this time snaking his tongue into her mouth, testing the waters. They stumbled away from the stairs and rushed into a doorway, Neil catching himself on the doorframe with both arms so that he could turn her around. He twisted her around so that her back was to his bed. 

Neil’s room was exactly as one would expect. His walls were decorated with movie posters with the addition of a few select female movie stars that he had the hots for. He helped the girl back onto the bed and leaned over her on the bed. She weaved her fingers through the hair on the back of his neck and traced his jaw with her palms. He worked quickly to pull off her gogo boots and slipped off his suit jacket. She moved onto her knees on the edge of the mattress and slid each button out of its eyelet on his power blue shirt. Neil shrugged it off and pulled each sleeve over his wrists, dropping it to the floor. She pressed her hands against his chest and placed a few shaky kisses against his warm skin. Neil sighed pleasurably and swept her hair over her shoulders to lie flat down her back. Looking up at him, she moved her hand down to the zipper at his crotch. Neil’s eye widened as she unzipped his fly and slid her hand down into the front of his hands, beneath his underwear. She cupped his erection in her hand and rubbed her hand down the hot and trembling length. Neil sputtered as she stroked him, his hands returned to the bed on either side of her body. She leaned down so that she could kiss the side of his neck while she jerked him off. Precum coated his cock so her hand slid easily over him and she shivered when she heard Neil gasp softly beside her ear. 

“Fuck, you’re full of fucking suprises,” he panted and squeezed his eyes shut. She exhaled against his neck and left a fresh hickey before responding. 

“This isn’t a movie, Neil. You can’t predict the ending.” 

She pulled her hand out of his pants and kissed his briefly as she scooted farther into the bed. Neil watched her breathlessly, his face hot. He watched her as she unzipped the side of her dress and pulled it over her head. Her bare breasts confronted the cold air by hardening. Neil’s jaw nearly fell open when he saw her, exposed like that. All that remained on her body was the cotton underwear which he allowed his gaze to linger on, camouflage by her thighs. She laid back on the bed and propped herself up on her elbows, her stomach trembling with nerves and desire. Neil’s erection pushed noticeably against his boxers. With his eyes still trained on the girl, he pushed down his pants and crawled onto the bed, stopping over her. He lowered his mouth to her neck and kissed the soft flesh there, savoring how warm she was against his mouth. She worked her underwear down and he could feel her hips shift on the mattress which thrilled him. He sat back to look at her, fully nude now. He raised her leg into the air and kissed down her calf, stopping at the underside of her knee. 

“I want to fuck you,” Neil saidbreathlessly as he moved his fingers down her thigh. She smiled darkly, her bow mouth drawn up into a smirk. His cock throbbed in his underwear and hovered above her navel.

“Say it again,” she whispered. Neil raised an eyebrow and exhaled anxiously.

“I want to fuck you.” 

“Again.”

“I want,” he leaned down to her ear and shoved a finger inside her gently, “to fuck you.” She whimpered and bit her lip. 

“Again,” she struggled to say the words, her cheeks flushed. 

“No, honey. You’re supposed to say, as you wish.” Neil whispered against her skin, his finger curling inside her. He smiled when she squirmed and moaned. 

“Ah, fuck- fuck me,” she gasped before Neil crushed his mouth against hers. He pulled down his boxers just enough to free his erection and centered himself at her cunt which was throbbing as much as he was. 

“As you wish,” he chuckled and removed his finger, swapping it out for his cock. He pushed in gently, working his tip inside her slowly as she squirmed needily beneath him. She was tight from nerves and inexperience and he whined despite himself as he went deeper. Her hands found his back and gripped into his flesh. He watched as his cock struggled to fit all the way inside her and moaned loudly when he saw her mouth held open in pleasurable shock. 

“Is it ok?” He groaned and stroked her flushed cheek. Her red lipstick was smudged again on her chin and he swiped his thumb across it. 

“Mmhm, yes.” She nodded and bit her lip as he thrusted in farther. Once her body got used to his length, he was able to pull out and thrust back in. It took only seconds but the sensations felt as though they were happening over hours. He fucked her gently but fast, his hips rocking against hers and shaking the mattress. She pushed her heels into the mattress and arched her hips up into his pelvis. Neil found it delightfully needy and thrusted deeper, eliciting a loud gasp from the girl.  

“Do you like that?” Neil smiled and cupped her chin with his hand. 

“Uh huh, yeah.” She panted as her eyes rolled back into her head. 

“You’re being such a good girl,” Neil praised her and cussed beneath his breath as he felt her walls tighten around him. His hips bucked aggressively into her over and over again and she yelled and gasped in pleasure. He looked down at his cock, slick with her precum, sliding in and out of her. He held her thighs and coaxed her deeper onto his cock, she gasped and bit her lip, her breasts bouncing against her chest. Neil groaned at the sight and fucked her messily, lossing control as he felt how wet she and tight she was getting as she neared her orgasm. 

“Good girl! I’m so close.” He panted quietly and she wrapped her fingers loosely around the nape of his neck. 

“Cum inside me,” she pleaded. 

“What?”

“Cum inside me,” she repeated, more delirious with pleasure.

“Say it again,” he smirked, playing her at her own game.

“Cum. in. me.” Her words tumbled out in a jumbled mess as she started to climax. Her thighs were tightening and her muscles flexed. He groaned helplessly as she came around him.

“As you wish,” he managed to answer as he buckled his hips against her and prompted himself to finish inside, spilling cum into her. He thrusted as he finished and exhaled when he finally pulled out. She worked to catch her breath as he collapsed beside her on the bed. 

“Fuck.” He sighed and rubbed his face. 

“Yeah.” She laughed lightly and cupped her cunt, still riding out the lasting waves of climax. 

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

As You Wish | Neil Lewis x fem!reader

Summary| You've had your eye on Neil for a while now and Neil's friends can tell but Neil isn't so sure until you come into Gumshoe Video with a boy on your arm with horrible taste in date-night cinema. When the date goes awry, Neil jumps to action.

Warning| Age gap, reader (19) and Neil (27), rudeness, flirting, touching, Neil being a little creepy, Neil's dubious consent, talk of virginity and inexperience, kissing, blowjob.

Mastermind- Taylor Swift (yeah, I said it) 🎵

Colorblind- Counting Crows 🎶

word count: 4933k

*sentences in italics are quotes from The Princess Bride (1987)

Please read warnings before continuing- thanks!

“That kid keeps coming around. If you’re not careful she’s gonna fall in love and you’ll be in deep shit,” Lucien fixed the thick frame of his glasses on his angular nose and returned the fake pipe to his mouth. 

“Why don’t you shut up, Lucien. It’s not like that. Just keep your weird thoughts to yourself in my store.” Neil called over his shoulder as he stocked the shelves with returned VHS tape sleeves. He ran his elbow over his forehead, wiping away the thin layer of perspiration. 

“Everyone’s thinking it…” Lucien raised his hands in defense and Neil rolled his eyes. Jonathan came in from Neil’s office holding a milkcrate full of new movies, still wrapped in plastic. Neil whistled at him. 

“Jonathan, do you think that girl likes me?” Neil shot Lucien a look as Jonathan answered. 

“Oh yeah, 100% dude.” 

“What, no! Jonathan, you were supposed to say no.” Neil spoke with his hands, slapping his hand against his face. Lucien chuckled and Jonathan looked between them, confused.

“What? Neil, did you want me to lie or something?” Jonathan put down the milkcrate and leaned against the checkout counter. 

“He’s blissfully unaware of how much that girl likes him.” Lucien sucked on the empty pipe and coughed, swallowing his spit the wrong way. 

“How? Neil, she comes by like twice a week to talk to you and shows up at all of our softball games.” 

“She’s only nineteen! For all I know, she just wants a job here one day.” Neil shrugged and went back to stocking the shelves, a blush creeping into his high cheekbones. 

“Sure she wants a job here if it means that she gets to fucking talk to you everyday, all day about classic films and shit!” Jonathan laughed. 

“She’s nice!” Neil exclaimed defeatedly and massaged his eye sockets. 

“Yeah, so’s my aunt but she doesn’t come around here every week to tell me about the latest movie she’s watched.” Lucien mumbled. 

“That wasn’t as effective as you think it was,” Jonathan sighed, then just to Lucien, “don’t use a family member next time, ok?” 

“Ok, OK!” Neil interrupted them, shaking his hands. “It’s not like that and she doesn’t like me like that. I’m like eight years older than her…” 

“That’s never stopped people before,” Lucien reminded Neil and he withheld a few choice expletives as the shop door opened and a customer came in. The bell twinkled and Neil called out the familiar greeting. 

“Welcome to Gumshoe Video!” 

“Hi, Neil.” Y/N smiled shyly. Lucien and Jonathan’s quiet snickers stopped as a second customer entered after the girl. “This is Woody. Woody, this is Neil.” 

“Hey, how’s it going?” Woody waved to Neil and his friends on the back couch. They waved back in shocked silence. 

“What happened to you?” She asked, recoiling away from the employees who stared at her as if they’d seen a ghost. Neil blushed, still embarrassed. 

“I was just not looking forward to telling you that we lost the copy of um, The Virgin Suicides that you wanted. It’ll take another few weeks and I assume that’s why you stopped by.” Neil scrambled for a reliable answer, and one that was partly true. She blushed slightly when she heard Neil use the word ‘virgin’ and laughed it off. 

“It’s ok, I just wanted to show Woody my favorite place.” 

“We’re going to get a movie,” Woody smiled and began to scan the shelves. 

“Sooo what do you like? Classic horror, westerns, Spike Lee, Hitchcock, Coppola?” Neil listed off categories of films he viewed to be superior and Woody shook his head, oblivious to Neil’s edged tone. 

“I like action movies mainly. I haven’t seen much else.” 

Neil smiled at the girl’s embarrassed reaction. He knew well that she didn’t like action movies and refused to watch them even if Neil recommended one. 

“So like war movies?”

“Sports movies.” Woody corrected and pretended to shoot a basketball. “Anything about football or basketball.” 

Neil felt a sharp pain in his chest at the boy’s words. He was a walking abomination to the film community. Lucien made a sound similar to a whimper and Neil cleared his throat to mask it. 

“Well uh i’m sure that we can find something for you though we don’t tend to carry sports movies because we have so little demand for it,” Neil explained blandly. “Have you ever seen anything by Tarentino? His movies tend to be more action-oriented. That and the old Bond movies.” Neil started to list movies he was almost completely sure Woody had not seen. Every shake of Woody’s head scratched a strange itch inside his head. What was this girl doing with someone like Woody? 

“Ah maybe,” Woody shrugged. “Do you have Rudy, Bull Durham, Remember the Titans?” 

“No, we don’t.” Neil pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled stiffly. “We do have the Air Bud movies,” Neil mumbled as a joke but Woody looked interested. 

“Where’s that?” He asked, looking around the store. 

“The kid’s section. It’s about a dog that plays sports,” Neil deadpanned and Jonathan and Lucien stifled their giggles. 

Woody was completely oblivious to Neil’s pointed comment and shrugged. 

“Sounds good to me,” he looked at the girl with a smile. Her lips were parted in a look of displeasure and shock. 

“You want to watch Air Bud?” She stressed the name of the movie like a bad word. Woody smiled, still not catching the tone of dislike in her speech. 

“Um…” She started and trailed off, totally caught off guard. Neil smiled, almost enjoying the direction that this interaction had gone. 

“I’ll get it for you,” Neil used his best customer service voice and turned around. He widened his eyes at Jonathan and Lucien, I told you so. Lucien narrowed his eyes behind his glasses, not wanting to admit defeat just yet. 

“Sooo are you two dating,” Lucien tried to sound casual but his tone was suggestive and Y/N blushed deeply from embarrassment. 

“No, we’re just friends,” she answered too quickly and Neil glowered at Lucien. Jonathan looked down at his hands, wanting to stay out of the conversation. Woody looked at her and frowned. 

“Well on that note, I think I’ll just get going. Forget about the movie, dude. Thanks anyway,” Woody snipped and left the store abruptly. The bell beside the door clanged loudly as he walked down the sidewalk, fumming. 

“Lucien!” Neil exclaimed and Jonathan swatted Lucien’s arm. 

“Sorry…geez!” Lucien deflected Jonathan’s hands and scooted away. Neil, holding a copy of Air Bud on VHS, lowered it and slid it onto the checkout counter. 

“Sooo no more Air Bud?” Neil tried to break the awkward silence. She gave him a look that quieted him immediately and left the store, going the opposite way that Woody had turned. She went around the side of the building where she knew there was a shabby basketball goal and a place to sit. She wanted to wait it out, to make sure that she wouldn’t run into Woody again that afternoon. It was safer to hide here than walk home. 

“Nice going, Lucien.” Neil sighed and returned the tape to the shelf. 

“You just fucking ruined young love,” Jonathan quipped and Lucien gasped defensively. Neil joined them on the long section couch and they sat in silence for a while. A loud bang made them all jump. 

“What the hell was that?” Jonathan turned to look where the sound had come from. The three of them stood to investigate. The second time they heard it, the shelf of tapes on the wall was josuled. They each jumped again and Neil drew his face up into a tight line. 

“Is someone throwing something against the wall?” Lucien surmised and spoke with his pipe in his palm. 

“I’ll check it out,” Neil looked at the shelf warily and backed away. He left the store and went around the side of the building. Seeing Y/N made him jump again and he clutched his chest briefly. She had a basketball and was chucking it at the hoop without much care for whether or not it went in. The ball hit the wall again. Jonathan and Lucien collected the tapes that had fallen off of the shelf only to have more tapes fall on their heads. 

“Maybe you should watch more sports movies, it might help you with your technique.” Neil crossed his arms casually across his chest and smiled. She dribbled the basketball slowly and caught it in her arms. 

“It was more of an exercise of rage,” she spoke between heavy breaths. 

“Sorry about Lucien,” Neil gestured to the store. “He’s not great with people.” 

“I could tell… but I’m not really upset about it-”

“You fooled me,” Neil interjected with a laugh. She rolled her eyes with a small smile. 

“He gave me an out but it wasn’t the right time. I shouldn’t have said it like that to Woody.” She dribbled the basketball again. 

“So were you dating?” Neil opened his hands, signaling her to throw him the ball. 

“Kind of,” she tossed him the ball and shrugged, “we’d gone out once or twice. We met at a party. Nothing was official yet.” Neil aimed and threw the ball, it fell through the hoop with a quiet whoosh before bouncing on the pavement below. She retrieved the ball and with one hand, she fixed the legs of her shorts, pulling them down over her thighs. He looked away quickly. 

“Did you know his taste in movies before you started going out?” Neil asked and watched as she aligned herself to toss the ball. It bounced off of the backboard and spun into the hoop. Neil applauded and she smiled. 

“He said he liked action movies but I didn’t know that he meant… sports movies. He’s a business major and I doubt he’s ever taken a film class or seen anything that wasn’t about sports in some way.” She nearly shivered. “And you had to suggest Air Bud?” She asked him pointedly and he pursed his lips defensively. 

“That was not an actual suggestion. I can’t believe he fell for it,” Neil dribbled the ball around his legs lazily and circled her before shooting. He missed and she giggled. “I think you dodged a bullet,” he told her honestly and when they held eye-contact, he felt his navel twitch. 

“Could you imagine if I had to watch Air Bud on a date?” She looked down at the ball and missed the hoop by a few feet. She sighed and fanned herself. This is exactly what she had been hoping would happen. She wouldn’t go as far as to say that she was a mastermind but she’d been trying to get closer to Neil for weeks. She’d liked Woody enough but taking him to Gumshoe Video was more strategic than cute. She hoped to make Neil a little jealous, and show him that she could get other guys. Nothing had actually happened between her and Neil besides long chats and lots of laughter. Maybe she could change that. 

Neil picked up the ball and bounded over to the hoop, jumping and shooting the ball. His fingers pushed the ball into the net as he landed back down on the ground. When he turned his eyes widened slightly. 

“It’s really fucking hot today,” she mumbled as she pulled off her t-shirt, having just a camisole underneath. Her cutoff denim shorts and black camisole left little to the imagination but Neil still tried. She tossed the shirt to the side and dribbled the ball, her eyes focused on the goal. Neil looked down her camisole, staring at her chest as her breasts shifted beneath the fabric in her bra. Her pink bra straps slipped on her shoulders and after shooting the ball, she had to snap them back into place. He blushed more and looked away. She crossed the small makeshift court and sat on the shallow ledge beside the store, swinging her legs up and underneath her. Neil held the ball awkwardly in his hands and approached her slowly. 

“What movie would you watch on a first date?” She asked him.

 “Uh,” his mind blanked, “definitely Air Bud,” he nodded and she laughed. He sat beside her and shoved his hands into his pockets. 

        “Neil! I’m being serious!” She pressed the toe of her foot against her chest.

“Ok, ok ummm,” he wrapped his fingers around her bare ankle with a smile and moved it back to the ledge in between them. She shifted her body so that she was facing him, both feet planted on the ledge in front of him. “Maybe The Wizard of Oz.” 

 “Why?” She asked with a soft smile. He rocked back and forth, using his hands to support himself. His large hands sat on either side of her feet, his chest directly over her knees. 

“Well it was one of the first movies to use color,” he said first, “and it would give me a chance to brag about how much I know about film.” He pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. She laughed and shook her head. 

“I thought you hated musicals!” She protested and he looked away sheepishly. 

“I do but I can’t pass up an opportunity to impress someone, especially a girl.” He looked at her and then blushed, looking away again. “I mean,” he started and she nodded.

“No, I get it. Do you like romance movies?” She fluttered her lashes discreetly, making Neil second guess whether she had done it intentionally or not. “You don’t seem like one but we all have our secrets,” she dragged her hand up her leg, drawing his attention to the contours of muscle beneath her shin bone. 

“You could argue that every movie is a romance,” Neil sputtered slightly, collecting himself. 

“Even Air Bud?” She asked with a raised eyebrow and he scoffed, looking away. 

“I don’t know about that.”

“What’s your favorite romance movie?” She rested her forearms on her knees and leaned forward. He looked at her briefly, his eyes dipping to her cleavage before meeting her eyes again. 

“Uh w-what?” He asked and she giggled.

“What’s your favorite romance movie?” She asked again and he thought quickly. 

“The Princess Bride,” his eyes flicked to her’s for approval and that surprised him. 

“I love that movie,” her eyes widened as she recalled the plot. 

“What about you?” 

“Well The Princess Bride is the best answer but I like The Great Gatsby too,” she smiled shyly. 

“The Great Gatsby is a tragedy at heart,” Neil argued and she shrugged.

“As you wish,” she quoted from The Princess Bride and his eyes flicked open wider for one second before he cleared his throat. The sun was starting to set and the sky bled with a sated orange color. She looked up at the sky, showing the vulnerable underside of her chin and swallowed. Neil watched, letting his eyes wander over the soft expanse of flesh. 

“We should probably go inside,” Neil broke the silence, “or I-I should go back.” He jerked his thumb back to the store and she lowered her head again and let her head fall to one side. 

“As you wish,” she said again and laughed. He watched her silently and licked his lips. He felt like he was going to say something but no words came to his mind as he sat there. 

“Or do you want to come inside? Sorry, I’m not trying to get rid of you…” 

“Ok, sure.” She nodded and followed him around the store, pulling on her big shirt again. Jonathan and Lucien were arguing inside but stopped when they walked inside. 

“Basketball game?” Lucien asked over his pipe and Y/N nodded with a sigh. 

“Sorta, I had to blow off some steam.” 

“He’s sorry by the way,” Jonathan added and Lucien started to argue but she cut them off. 

“It’s ok. You saved me a night watching Air Bud.” She winked and started to browse the aisles again. Jonathan shoved Lucien. 

“What? What’s your problem?” Lucien protested and Jonathan gestured to the door, hinting that they should leave. “You have to be joking,” he muttered under his breath, irritated. 

“Hey uh, Neil?” Jonathan cleared his throat. Neil broke his obvious concentration on the girl and looked at his friends on the couch. 

“Yeah?”

“We’re gonna head out. Lucien owes me a beer and I want to beat the bar rush,” Jonathan grabbed Lucien by the shoulders and shuffled out the front door. 

“It’s not even seven yet-” Neil started but they were gone before he could finish. His heart started beating quickly and he glanced anxiously at the disappearing silhouettes of his friends. The girl walked through the aisles, biting her bottom lip slightly as she looked. He didn’t want to be alone like this with her, it felt weird. She was young enough to be his younger sister and it irked him… and yet, she looked so pretty beneath the yellowish fluorescent bulbs inside the store and her hair was sticky from the humidity. 

“We should watch something,” she said quietly behind a rack of VHS and Neil cleared his throat. 

“Together?”

“No, in separate rooms… yeah of course together.” She laughed lightly and showed him the movie she had found. He chuckled and shrugged. 

“The Princess Bride? Ok, sure.” He approached the small box tv in front of the sectional couch and inserted the tape. Y/N slipped discreetly to the front doors and turned over the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’ and locked the door. Neil stood behind the couch and set up the box player, struggling with the buttons on the remote. She collapsed on the couch and rested her legs on the wide ottoman. Her hair spread over the back of the couch and covered Neil’s hand. He looked down at it and struggled to exhale normally. The movie started and she wiggled in excitement. Neil sat on a stool behind the couch, worried about sitting beside her. After the first ten minutes of them each reciting the lines back to the tv, she looked over her shoulder, flashing a toothy grin. 

“Neil, come on, sit with me. It’s weird to have you looking over my shoulder like that.”

“Um I- uh yeah ok,” Neil stammered and joined her hesitantly on the couch, his hands between his knees. His longer hair brushed the tops of his shoulders and she resisted the urge to sweep a strand into her hand. Slowly he relaxed and they acted to each other as well as to the tv, adapting the characters they liked best. As the movie went on, she braved looking over at him more and holding his startling eye contact. They laughed hard at one scene and bent over with laughter, shifting their bodies closer in the process. Eventually they were nearly arm-to-arm on the worn brown sectional. Neil’s breath escaped in pained bursts as he looked at her thigh, relaxed on the couch beside his leg. Her shorts had creeped up to her crotch as they sat and she’d made no move to pull them back down. He caught himself staring at the crease at her crotch and wondering if the tightness was uncomfortable for her, how warm the material would be against her like that… he shook his head to clear his thoughts and clenched his jaw when he felt his cock twitch. 

“Neil?” She turned slightly to him and his breath hitched as he turned his attention to her. She bit her lip lightly and slowly pressed herself up onto her knee. He watched her, his eyes flicking between the tv and her face, inches from his face. 

Hear this now: I will always come for you. 

She exhaled softly and her breath rippled across his face. Her hands inched closer to his stomach clothed beneath his light blue shirt. Her bright eyes intoxicated him as she brought her lips to his, offering herself. When she kissed him, her eyes squeezed closed and she sucked briefly on his bottom lip, lacking technique from her barely nonexistent experience. When she pulled away slowly Neil’s brow creased as his brows flew up. 

“Y/N… we uh we shouldn’t.”  

But how can you be sure? 

Her eyes crinkled in embarrassment and her small cheeks flushed. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she whispered and sat back against the couch, pressing her sweaty palms against her thighs. Neil looked over at her and licked his lips, fighting an internal argument against himself. 

This is true love- you think this happens everyday?

She flexed her thighs anxiously on the couch and the movement sent a shock up Neil’s body, making his crotch throb slightly, weary from the close proximity to her warm skin. 

You mock my pain.

Neil brushed a shaky finger down the side of her thigh and felt her inhale quickly. She looked at him slowly, her lips parted. His hand slid up her body to her head and cupped her cheek. He leaned over and kissed her, not harshly but not subtle either. Their lips popped wetly when he pulled away. He looked down at her, she was panting slightly, her heart fluttering in her chest. 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Neil whispered and fell back into the couch beside her, clenching his fists. They sat in silence, their breath mingling in the space between them like a mixture of heat waves. Neil smelled faintly of mint mouthwash and musk, the sweat worked up during their “game” clung to his body. 

Life is pain, princess. Anyone who says differently is selling something. 

And quick as a flash of lightning, their bodies flew together, their mouths finding each other like opposite ends of a magnet or a cap over a pen. She climbed onto his lap, straddling his hips and held his head in her small hands. He wrapped his arms around her waist, bunching the fabric in his hands. Her tongue slipped into his mouth and he greeted it with enthusiasm, his hands tightening around her waist. She licked his lips as she closed down around them, sucking everything out of him. He moaned softly against her kiss and his arms flexed, his cock hardening. She gasped when she felt him get hard against her crotch. He broke their kiss abruptly. 

“Fuck, sorry.” He loosened his grip on her waist and went to shift out from under her. “I didn’t mean to get…” he trailed off and moved her off his lap easily. She watched him, her mind already caught in a lapse. 

“This was a mistake. You’re in college. I shouldn’t have encouraged this,” he dragged his hands through his dark hair and pulled at the roots, mumbling incoherently as she looked up at him, her eyes wide like a doe. The front of his pants tented out and he started to walk to his office. She jumped and grabbed his hand, catching him before he disappeared into the backroom. 

“Please, stay.” She whispered and bit her lip, dispelling some of her pent up energy into the action. 

“You’re too young.”

“I’m nineteen.” 

“I’m too old for you.”

“You’re 27.”

“You’re a virgin.” 

She flushed redder and looked away, embarrassed. “Not really.” She looked back at him and shrugged. “We all have our secrets, right?” She cocked her head and tried to smile, her heart beating so fast that she felt dizzy. 

“I don’t know…” Neil added half-heartedly, having run out of reasons. “The customers!” Neil remembered and glanced, panicked, at the front doors. 

“You closed early.” She smiled embarrassedly and rubbed his wrist with her thumb. “Please,” she tried again and he looked down at her. His cock throbbed uncomfortably in his pants. He allowed her to lead him back to the couch and watched as she lowered herself onto her knees. Her hands rested on his thighs as she opened his legs wide enough to sit between them. He watched dumbly as she unbuckled his belt and slowly unzipped his fly. She tugged down the crotch of his jeans, exposing the waistband of his checkered boxers. 

“Wait,” Neil blurted and she looked up at him, “come here.” He asked softly and waited as she rose to her feet, her hands moving to his chest as she leaned closer. He pulled her back onto his lap, straddling her over his lap and kissed her, lapping at her mouth with his tongue. His small biceps flexed around her, his hands finding her hair and wrapping his fingers in it hungrily. She sat up on her knees and pressed her crotch against his chest, making him sit up taller to reach her mouth. She whimpered softly as he kissed her as if he was eating her, slowly getting deeper. His kisses felt so good on their own that she almost moaned into him, licking the tip of his nose. She licked the edge of his jaw and he let her, savoring the immature way she approached tasting him. His hands supported her back as she panted, bucking her hips against his chest as she kissed him feverishly. Racks of tapes shielded them from view but Neil hoped passerbys couldn’t hear them through the storefront’s display glass.

Slowly she slid down his chest and returned to her spot between his legs. She licked the warm mound at his crotch, leaving a wide wet spot. Neil sighed as he watched her, his cock twitched again. Her hands squeezed into his thighs and she licked his erection again through his boxers. 

“Oh god,” Neil gasped and looked up at the ceiling. She hooked her hands around his waistband and pulled it down slowly, finally releasing his cock which glistened with precum. She stared at it for a moment before kissing the head. Neil’s mouth fell open in pleasure and shock. “Look at you, god… fuck.” She smiled, self-conscious and wrapped her hand around the base of his cock, squeezing him slightly. He groaned and bucked his hips. She rubbed the head against her wet lips and slowly slipped him inside her mouth. Her mouth was already watering and he whined loudly as she took him in, hallowing her cheeks on accident but soon realizing that it made Neil feel good. She went as deep as she could and pulled away, allowing a thick line of spit to connect her lips with his cock. Neil’s eyes widened and his head dropped back against the couch. His hands flew up to his face and massaged his cheeks, unsure how to handle the things he was feeling and not wanting to force her head down on top of him. 

She took him back into her mouth and swirled her tongue around him, bobbing her head up and down. She rocked her head slightly and tried to create a rhythm that elicited the most pitiful sounds from Neil. His cock shook inside her mouth and she sucked hard against it like a lollipop. Neil’s hands tightened around his face and he moaned loudly, exhaling sharply. 

“Oh god, honey. What the actual fuck.” He whined between even breaths. He looked down at her pretty little mouth sucking him off and he nearly finished then when she pulled off of him and started to jack him off, her tongue pressed flat against his head. Her fist clenched around his length and he sputtered, unable to form words. After a dozen hard and fast jerks, she took him in her mouth again and bobbed up and down quickly, drooling heavily around him as she tasted his salty precum. 

“Oh fuck- fuck- fuck! Shit, I’m gonna cum.” He panted and moaned loudly, his hands finally finding her hair, the pleasure becoming so overwhelming that it was almost painful. The friction and sensation heightened and his knuckles turned white around her long hair. He thrusted his hips gently into her mouth, not wanting to gag her. She welcomed it, opening her throat and humming to let him deeper. She breathed deeply through her nose and her exhales feathered across his crotch, adding even more to the sensations he was already feeling. With a yell Neil spilled into her mouth, bucking his hips and falling back on the couch. She proudly continued to suck him off, pulling everything out of him. He watched her, breathing heavily. She swallowed his warm cum with a smile. 

I told you I would come for you…

Neil glanced up at the movie screen and chuckled. She licked him from the base up and plopped back onto the couch, breathing heavily too. Neil tucked himself back into his pants, leaving his belt unbuckled. She arranged herself proudly beside him on the couch, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

“That was fucking incredible,” Neil slapped his forehead and laughed breathlessly. “So so good…” he shook his head and looked at her, smiling lopsidedly. She snaked a hand onto his crotch again and rubbed him before wrapping her arm around his sweaty neck. He wrapped his arms around her and supported her body weight as she laid against him, their stomach crushed against each other. She shivered as she heard his heavy breath against her ear. “Good girl,” he whispered and sighed. He rubbed her back and kissed her shoulder through her shirt. She turned over, sitting nearly on his lap. His hands clasped around her stomach and held her tightly. Her soft belly shivered beneath her slowing breaths. They both relaxed again into the movie.     

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

oh my godddd that jonathan crane fic did SOMETHING to me 😩❤️!!! it was so good :)) i need some more professor crane in my life 🫦 maybe u could write a part 2 where they eventually start dating and she’s still his student but she keeps teasing him during his lectures and he’s trying to keep his cool but again when everyone leaves he drags her into his office to put her in her place again 😳😢😢

Aaaah, thank you so much!! I like the way you think - a little turn of the tables where reader teases him hehe... I accidentally also started writing a third part to this, so expect more Professor Crane in your life at some point soon, sweet anon <3

Oral Fixation

Pairing: Professor!Jonathan Crane x Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Summary: It's the start of a new semester, and you're looking forward to the chance to take revenge on your professor. Crane, however, isn't about to let you have the satisfaction. At least not without putting in a little work.

Warnings: Smut, teasing, tropes galore, oral (m receiving), almost-deepthroating, brief mention of toys (but none used), degradation, dumbification, power play dynamics, office sex, established student/teacher relationship

A/N: This fic is technically a Part 2 to THIS, but tbh there is no plot here at all so I think it's also fine to read as a standalone. Enjoy!

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

You sat in the front row, as usual, nervously tapping your feet. Students to the left and right of you socialized, catching up after their time off for winter break. But of course, all you could focus on was one thing.

Dr. Crane brushed into the room, and you felt your shallow breath stop for a moment. He glanced at you, smiled briefly, and your heart melted.

He made you feel something that none of these silly college boys in the seats next to you could ever hope to. He was confident, self-assured, and mature. It made you swoon just to think about him, standing at the front of the classroom as he delivered a lecture; captivating you and the rest of his students with words alone. Listening to him speak was always enough to make you forget where you were for a moment.

That, and thinking about the dozens of times he had fucked you over the desk in his office. 

You smiled to yourself, remembering the series of secret trysts that you had shared with your professor. Now, with a new semester starting, you were eager to pick back up where you’d left off. You hadn't been able to see Crane at all over the lengthy winter break, and although you had talked with him a few times, you had long ago reached the point of desperation. You needed to feel his touch. Dr. Crane felt similarly; he had assured you.

Now that Crane had taken his place at the front of the room, it was time to put your secret plan into action.

You took out a tube of chapstick, uncapping it with a loud pop. Glancing briefly up to make sure your professor was watching, you rubbed it slowly over your bottom lip, making sure to keep steady eye contact.

Crane watched, a hint of a curious look on his face. He narrowed his eyes just a fraction of an inch as you rubbed your lips together, darting your tongue out to get a taste of the subtle flavor. Then, you smiled, and put the chapstick back in your bag.

Clearing his throat, Crane called the class to attention. Conversations died down as all eyes focused on him, yours included. You subtly bit your lip, making sure to catch his eye, and Crane faltered for an almost imperceptible half-second before regaining his usual grace. 

“Welcome to Advanced Concepts in Psychopharmacology,” he said to the room. There was a brief murmur of papers as a few people opened their notebooks, before Dr. Crane continued. “I'm happy to see some familiar faces-” he glanced at you again, but continued smoothly. “And I think you'll all find this class very rewarding, but challenging.”

He looked directly at you as he said “challenging,” perhaps already guessing at what you had in store for him.

You chewed on the cap of your pen, holding his eye contact and smiling as you held the tip between your teeth. Dr. Crane shifted a little, adjusting some papers he had stacked on the podium.

“Now,” he said. “Can I ask for a volunteer to help hand out copies of the syllabus?”

You raised your hand, still slowly sucking on your pen cap, bottom lip pressed lightly into its edge. Crane called on you, even as he was still wearing that slightly funny expression that you had never seen on him before. His brows furrowed a bit more than usual as you came up to take the stack of papers.

“Thank you,” he said. And then added, a bit lower so that only you could hear, “I thought you were done volunteering in my classes.”

“Only for your ‘demonstrations’ on teasing me,” you whispered back.

You turned on your heel, walking off to hand out the syllabi. You had, very purposefully, worn a pair of tight leggings with nothing else to cover your ass, and you made sure to lean over all of the desks as you picked your way through the rows of students, giving your flustered professor a small show.

When you finally took your seat, a faint pink color had crept over Dr. Crane’s cheeks, although his lips remained in a tight line. To anyone else in the class, it would mean nothing - if they even noticed. But you were watching him intently, and you were quite pleased by the results that even a little teasing had on your professor.

You weren’t immune to its effects, either. You rubbed your legs together, thinking about what was sure to happen just as soon as Crane could get you alone. You settled back into your seat, and dug around in your bag for your chapstick.

For the rest of class, as Crane went over the syllabus and answered increasingly ridiculous questions from the other students, you subtly continued to work away at him. Every time his eyes darted over, you would be sure to stick out your tongue, just a bit to press against the tip of the pen. Twice, you reapplied chapstick - and one time you managed to make Crane trail off, utterly losing his train of thought right in the middle of a sentence. It was obvious that you were getting to him. Though only he and you could have known about it.

You glanced down to check your watch. Only five minutes were left in class. It was time to pull out your final weapon.

Crane watched incredulously as you slowly unwrapped a lollipop. You dared to give him a small wink before sticking it in your mouth. Your eyes fluttered shut as you savored the fruity taste and the feel of the candy against your tongue. You dragged it out from between your lips, letting it linger in front of your mouth for just a moment. Peeking from beneath one eyelid, you saw Crane’s gaze fixed on you. You opened your eyes fully to look at him, shamelessly watching his reaction as you stuck out your tongue and pressed it flat against the sucker.

“I'm… I'm sorry, where was I?” Crane stammered. He pinched the bridge of his nose, lifting up his glasses, and sighed. “I'm afraid I have a slight headache.”

Someone else in the front row raised their hand, helping Crane recall what he had been talking about. There were more than a few murmurs from the class, and you couldn't help but smile. You knew you'd be in for it later, and you suddenly couldn’t wait to get in trouble.

“And with that, I'll dismiss you all a few minutes early,” Crane said briskly. “My apologies, but I really need to go take care of this headache.”

He looked directly at you again, and you shifted your hips in your seat. The class packed up quickly, everyone eager to get on with the rest of their first day. You lingered, keeping the sucker lodged in your mouth as you watched Dr. Crane gather his belongings. He held his briefcase, a bit awkwardly, in front of his body as he stepped out from behind the lecturer’s podium, and made his way over to your seat.

“I need your help with something in my office.”

Most of the other students had exited the room already, and you checked around to make sure no one was within earshot.

“What do you need my help with?” you teased, feigning innocence.

You swirled the lollipop in your mouth, parting your lips as you looked up at your professor. He sighed heavily through his nose.

“I'll tell you when we get there. Let's go,” he said, impatiently.

“I have another class after this,” you protested.

“Well, now you have a very important appointment,” he countered. “You'll just have to beg your other professor to excuse your absence.”

The classroom was empty now, except for the two of you, and Crane leaned down over your desk as he lowered his voice to a menacing timbre.

“After you're done begging me.”

You jumped up, already feeling excitement swell between your legs. The smile on your lips was mirrored by Crane’s own grating, serious expression. The corners of his mouth turned down as he walked with you out of the room, his hand at your elbow to guide you as you made your way through the psychology building. Luckily, his office wasn't a very far walk.

Crane opened the door, and went through first. As soon as you’d followed him, he slammed the door shut and pushed you against it, his lips already at your neck.

“You seem to have developed a new oral fixation over winter break,” he muttered, hot breath fanning over your pulse. “Why is that, I wonder?”

His question was obviously rhetorical, so you didn't answer; instead, humming around the piece of candy still stuck in your mouth as Crane’s lips bruised against your neck.

“You're a bit bolder than I remember, too,” Crane continued. “Teasing me in the middle of class.”

You smiled.

“Nothing that you haven't done to me, too… professor,” you replied, pulling the sucker out of your mouth.

“That may be true, but I at least still have the sense to be subtle about it.” Crane backed away to look at you, and lust flared deep in his eyes. “You were lucky that no one else saw you practically fucking this thing with your tongue.”

He grabbed the sucker out of your hand, and threw it roughly into the trash. A warm thrill of feverish excitement rushed over you. Crane almost never swore; when he did, it meant he was really riled up. Your smile widened, as you leaned a little closer.

“I'm sorry. I was just looking for a way to occupy my mouth,” you laughed. “What did you call it? Oral fixation?”

Crane pinched your chin a bit too roughly, forcing you to look up at him as he cocked his head.

“It's really only cute when you play dumb if it's because you're getting fucked stupid,” he grunted. “If you want something to fixate on, get on your knees.”

You were eager to oblige. Quickly, you dropped down to kneel on the floor of his office. Delighted, you saw that Crane was already hard, the outline of his cock straining prominently against his pants. You reached up to undo his belt, but Crane slapped your hands away.

“You want to use your mouth so badly? Then use it. No hands.”

He finished loosening his belt, holding it to the side to help you along. Your nose brushed up against his shirt as you brought your mouth to the hem of his pants. The fabric was rough against your lips, and you looked up at your professor for a moment.

“Get on with it,” he sighed, clearly impatient and dying to get on with things just as much as you were.

But you wanted to make him wait for a while. Slowly, you leaned back, pulling at the fabric of his pants until it finally slipped over the button. You paused, and sighed heavily to let your breath wash over him.

“A little faster, darling,” Crane urged.

You smirked, happy to see that he was already regretting making you use your mouth when your hands would have been faster. All that was left now was his zipper. You took the little metal tab carefully between your teeth, and lowered your whole body to drag it down.

Crane was still trapped in the confines of his pants, and he reached in hastily to free himself, apparently not trusting you to take your time with that. His cock glistened, already coated with excitement. You leaned up to take him in your mouth, but Crane stopped you, bracing his thumb against your chin. Suddenly, he was the one holding you back.

“You know, oral fixations only develop when something a person needs is withheld,” Crane told you. “Is that what happened to you? You went a few weeks without sucking me off, and now it's all you can think about?”

You were about to respond, when Crane stuck his thumb in your mouth. You moaned around it; the sudden intrusion shocking, but not unwelcome.

“Look at you,” Crane scoffed, more than a bit of his usual poise and control creeping back into his voice. “So desperate for something in your mouth. Seeing you like this makes me think of that time you let me fuck you over a table in the lecture hall - remember that?”

You remembered it very well, and hummed around his finger, swirling it against your tongue as you nodded. 

“Of course you do, darling,” Crane muttered. “You’ve probably been thinking about me splitting you open like that for the last three weeks straight while you try to get off with some pathetic vibrator. Am I right?”

You looked up to see a harsh glint of fluorescent light shine off of his glasses. From behind the glare, his eyes blazed, and you felt a rush of excitement drop straight into the pit of your stomach.

“Mmm-hm,” you agreed, nodding your head as the sound was muffled by his thumb in your mouth.

“Well, if you’re good, then maybe I’ll give you what you’ve really been missing,” Crane teased. “But first, I think we need to put an end to this new ‘fixation’ of yours.”

He dragged his thumb out of your mouth, yanking it out with a forceful pop. Instantly, the head of his cock was at your lips.

“Open.”

He could have told you to choke on it, and you would have. Glady. But instead, Crane used one hand to guide just the tip of his head past your lips. The thumb that had been in your mouth was now pressed down into your chin, keeping your jaw open painfully wide as it would go, and your tongue sticking out as he let himself glide over it.

“I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t miss this, too,” Crane admitted. “You have such a pretty mouth.”

The taste of his salty, nearly-overwhelming musk made you want to close your eyes and savor it, just like you had with the candy earlier. But you fought to keep them open. Crane, looming over you, was always too good of a sight to take your eyes off of. He smiled down at you, a faint hint of wickedness playing over his face as he continued.

“Why don’t you pick up where you left off in class?”

You smiled. As much as you could under the current circumstances, anyway. Your little show had worked wonderfully; exactly how you’d wanted it to. Crane moved his hand from your chin to the back of your head, urging you on. You flattened your tongue against him and paused for a moment, letting your breath fan over his head before you drifted forward. 

Rather than taking him in your mouth, you let your tongue slide down the underside of his shaft, leaving behind a wet trail that brushed over the very tip of your nose as his cock twitched against you. You sucked at the sides gently, letting his smooth skin trail over your tongue as you kissed your way slowly back up from the base. Finally, wrapping your lips around him caused Crane to sigh deeply; the sound gradually turning into a contented hum as you sucked him into your mouth.

You brought your soft hand up to wrap around his shaft, only for Crane to swat it away.

“Did you already forget what I told you?” he growled, his mood suddenly shifting again. “Maybe you’re not just playing dumb. A few weeks off from school, and now you don’t even remember how to listen to your professor?”

You hurried to hold your hands securely behind your back, still looking up at Crane for approval.

“That’s better,” he said. 

Breaking his own rules, Crane brought a hand up to steady his length, using it to press himself a bit more forcefully onto your tongue.

“If you can’t take it all, just say so,” he told you, even as he continued to sink further into your mouth. You felt the breath catch in your throat as the sensation started to overwhelm you. “But, silly me - you can’t talk with your mouth full.”

Crane smiled wickedly as he pulled himself out of you, making you gasp with the sudden ability to breathe. You coughed, sputtering but still smiling as Crane pumped his fist up and down, coating your spit over his whole cock. His other hand came softly up to rest on your face.

“You really have forgotten a few things since last semester,” he said sympathetically. Or maybe that was just a hint of pity. “I think you’re going to have to start coming to my office hours again. Maybe even some private tutoring sessions, so I can really teach you how to do this properly.”

Still on your knees in front of him, you looked up and decided to make things even worse for yourself.

“Or maybe you could just fuck me over your desk again,” you suggested. “That might teach me a lesson.”

Crane stared back at you in disbelief. It was all you could do to stop from giggling as you wiggled your hips a little, desperate for whatever friction you could manage to get against the press of your own legs.

“You really are insistent on pushing me today,” he sighed.

For a moment, you worried that you had gone too far, and that he was really annoyed with you. That thought quickly vanished as Crane grabbed onto your arm and pulled you, yanking you up to your feet. In the next instant, you were slammed back against his office door, making a few of the framed diplomas on the wall next to it shudder. 

Your mouth opened, and Crane’s lips were suddenly and violently up against yours, the all-at-once soft-forceful feel of his tongue pushing into your mouth. His furious hand came down to your leggings, pushing into the fabric with his fingers held directly over your clit. He pressed, hard, not moving his hand at all but just holding it harshly against you.

“Mmm,” you sighed, grinding your hips down against him.

Crane stood up a little straighter to laugh - a short, barking sound that seemed to come from deep within his chest.

“Seems like you might have some other fixations, too,” he observed. “If this is what just a few weeks away from me does to you, I think we’re going to have to spend a lot of time together this semester.”

You cried out, softly; aware that you couldn’t be too loud for fear of the other professors with offices near Crane’s hearing you. Deep down, you wanted nothing more than to scream for him. But that would have to come later; maybe tonight, after the rest of the department had gone home. Crane would sometimes let you in with his spare key, then ravish you to your heart’s content in the privacy of the empty building. That would certainly stop you from teasing him, at least for a little while.

He pressed his forehead against yours, fingers still crushing into your clit but refusing to move.

“And I think you’re going to have to drop whatever class you have after this one,” he informed you. “Because I’m going to be asking you to stay late. Frequently.”

You moved your hips again, desperate for friction against Crane’s fingers. Not ready to let you have the satisfaction, he tore his hand away and then started pressing down on your shoulders, making you sink to your knees again.

“To start, let’s go over this one more time,” he suggested. “Hands on your legs, and don’t you dare touch yourself. Use your mouth for something more productive than eating in class. And maybe I’ll let you have what you want - if you can manage to listen.”

You leaned forward, eagerly wanting to taste him again. As you hollowed your cheeks, you pushed against him as deep as you could bear. Above you, Crane braced both of his elbows against the office door, and let out a strangled grunt.

This was going to be the start of an exciting semester…

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

I Can Fix That... Pt. 3 | Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

notes: And the plot and smut continues hehe. In this installment I used Lady Arkham as inspiration. She is originally a DC character/villian. The backstories that I included here are all based on the original DC comicbook/nolanverse lore. I literally used Batman wiki for additional research.

Summary| Crane brought a woman home. That was definitely not something he ever anticipated that he would ever do. He needs to trust her and she's starting to have second thoughts. Was leaving Gotham the right thing for her to do? Yes, she likes Crane but does she like him enough? What is he hiding from her? Oh honey, he was hiding a lot...

Warnings| Fire, mentions of a gun, drugs, smut- fingering, teasing, masturbation, dubious consent, the word "r*pe" is used once, unprotected sex, oral (m receiving). Violence, death, insanity, overdose (no death), infidelity, murder, police violence, trauma, abandonment, general unpleasantness.

word count: 8086k

Lonely Day- System of a Down 🎵

Love Song- Jack Off Jill 🎶

Superstar- Sonic Youth 🎵

Please please please read warnings for this one- we're going over childhood trauma

i 

The helicopter landed in an open field in the outskirts of the city. She and Crane climbed out and ducked beneath the blades as they crossed the pasture. 

“We’re outside the city now. We’re safe here and depending on how Ra’s plan goes, we can stay here.” Crane looked down at the girl beside him. She watched the helicopter, distractedly, as it rose into the air and flew away. The field around them immediately quieted without the presence of the aircraft and they could hear the other breathe for the first time in a while. 

“Where do we go now?” She looked around them at the expanse of pasture and wild flowers hidden in the dark. 

“Over this hill.” Crane started walking and she followed, staying a few paces behind him. When they reached the top of the hill, she saw an old scarecrow standing in a field, empty of crops. The man was made of burlap and covered with rags. Straw exploded out of the scarecrow’s body. She looked at Crane who’d stopped to look at the scarecrow. Sensing her beside him, he glanced back at her and clenched his jaw. He gave no explanation or story and she didn’t want to ask because she didn’t want to cause him more pain. They walked a little farther and as they did, a large house came into view. Crane pointed it out to her with a sneer, directed at the house, not at her, “and there’s my father’s house.” 

The lights inside the mansion were on and it leaked light across the landscape that separated them. 

“Is your father home?” She asked and he chuckled darkly. 

“No, I had the housekeeper open the house for us. Just like with the helicopter, I find it is always useful to play your cards carefully. I was suspicious of Ra’s because I’m suspicious of everyone, even you,” he nodded down at her and she frowned slightly. “I don’t make friends easily, they often disappoint me.” He smiled at his own self-effacing humor. 

“Have I disappointed you?” She asked him. He turned his icy blue eyes to her and shook his head.

“No but we aren’t friends,” he laughed lightly and looked back at the house in the distance. 

“No? Then what are we?” She pouted a little, looking down at her feet and then to his face. 

“We’re more,” he answered evenly and began to walk again. She blushed and hurried to follow him, hiding her smile. Crane even smiled, blocking out the bad memories of the place they now found themselves in. He was no longer scared of the scarecrow but the memories he associated with the figure in the field did little to comfort him. They walked on until they reached the front gate and Crane typed in a passcode on an elaborate screen. The gates were black iron with sharp spikes fixed to the top and they opened with a long and droning squeak. The driveway changed to gravel as Crane led her up to the front door and he pulled on the lion’s head door knocker, releasing a loud door chime inside the house. One wing of the house, she noticed, was burned. 

“You’re right, I’m starting to realize that I really know nothing about you.” She looked up at the large gothic mansion above her.

“That,” Crane turned his head to her and sighed as if it were obvious, “is what a second date is for.” 

The front door opened and a man in a tuxedo greeted them coldly, reminding her of Crane. 

“Welcome back, doctor.” The butler deadpanned and Crane pushed past, wiping his feet in the entryway. She followed suit and nodded to the butler, smiling excitedly. 

“This is Miss —; Miss Y/N Y/L/N.” Crane gestured his hand carelessly between them and continued on into the reception hall. All the walls were carved from solid wood into even square panels. 

“Welcome to the Crane House, ma’am.” The butler bowed his head briefly and followed them. She nodded her head in thanks and became immediately enraptured by the spooky house. “Shall we serve dinner now or would you like to change?” 

Crane turned and cleared his throat, his eyes trying to focus on the room without his glasses. “We’ll change first, Hobbs.” 

“There are clothes laid out in the bedrooms.” The butler bowed and disappeared behind a swinging door. She turned to Crane and laughed. 

“What the hell is this place?” She asked in a bewildered whisper. Crane chuckled, finding the girl adorable in her amazement. 

“This is my childhood home.” 

“So this is where the famous Dr. Crane was raised. I’m intrigued.” She batted her eyelashes and ran up some of the stairs, her fingers trailing the thick banisters. Crane smiled and followed her. 

“Do you like seeing this side of me? Does it thrill you?” His voice prodded her heart and her legs became wobbly. 

“Everything about you does that,” she stood one step above him and cupped his face. She ran her finger down his angular cheekbone and swiped across his wide chapped lips. She kissed his neck and beneath his jaw before finally kissing his lips. 

“For now,” he whispered as she pulled away. They climbed the rest of the stairs up to the second floor and Crane led her down a tight hallway. Animal heads were mounted on the walls and she studied them with a mixed sense of appreciation. Crane pushed open a door with a crystal doorknob. 

“This is your room,” he swept his hand through the room and she gasped in awe. The one room was nearly the size of her entire apartment in Gotham. The walls were painted with elaborate murals. She stepped hesitantly into the room and twirled, wanting to see every inch of the place. Crane looked on from the door, his lips spread into a smile. 

“I’m glad you like it,” he laughed and she ran into his arms, smiling. 

“I love it! I am officially living out one of my dreams.” She pulled down on his collar and kissed him. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and kissed him deeper, her fingers now brushing across the soft skin on his neck. Crane sighed through his nose and found her waist, resting his hands on the indents of her hips. The excitement of the day prompted a sense of adventure and need inside her and she communicated that through her kiss. She bit playfully on Crane’s bottom lip and moaned (intentionally) against him to fluster him. She felt his body shutter from the suggestive sounds she made against him. Her cunt throbbed wantingly and she could feel her heartbeat in her upper thighs. 

“Mhm!” She hummed and caught her breath as Crane’s hands slipped to the base of her back. 

“You never get tired, do you?” He muttered against her huskily and she shook her head. 

“No, Dr. Crane.” She whispered with a soft whine and licked his bottom lip before kissing him harder. She felt his cock twitch on his pants as he pressed himself against her. 

“Good, because neither do I,” he bit the point of her jaw gently and kissed over the hickies he had already made on her neck the night before. He looked all rumpled and hot in his suit after the action of the day and she desperately wanted to undress him. She wanted to fuck him like a normal couple, not tied down to a mortuary slab where she couldn’t even touch him. God, she wanted to touch him. She dragged one hand down to his crotch and cupped his cock through his pants. She rubbed her hand against the half-hard bulge and moaned pitifully as if she were the one getting touched. 

“You’re pathetic,” Crane smirked and pulled her head back gently by her hair. She nodded with a pleased smile, happy that he saw her for what she really was and what she really wanted. He kissed her hard, taking her breath away, and sucked on her tongue so deep she felt like she might choke. When he pulled away and dropped his hold on her neck, his lips were pink and his eyes heavy with lust. She knew her face was flushed and that it turned him on but instead of acting on it, Crane leaned back against the door jam and jerked his head at the bed. 

“Hobbs laid out some clothes for you. I hope they fit, I went through your closet to find your size but I trusted Hobbs and his wife with the shopping.” He smirked, proud of himself for leaving the girl so horny, it made him even harder. He left the room and closed the door, his erection still pressing against his pants. 

ii 

She went down the stairs and looked around for the dining room, turning her curious head left and right. The clothes that had been laid out for her were simple and elegant. A long black dress with a boat neck that she wore with the burgundy stockings set beside it. She’d worn her black mary janes and run a brush through her hair, knowing that would be enough to help her look put together. She followed the sound of a crackling fire and polite conversation through a far door. Crane looked up as she entered and looked her up and down, his eyes sticky against her curves. 

“What do you think?” She gestured to her dress and gave a slow twirl. The butler and his wife stood to the side, watching her with small, pleased smiles. Crane leaned forward, resting his elbows on the white tablecloth. 

“Apparently, my housekeepers have extraordinary taste.” He smirked and stood as she walked to her place at the table on his right. 

“High praise,” she smiled at Hobbs. As they sat together, Hobbs served their dinner of smoked ham. She took a long sip of the gin martini from her glass and swirled the stem with her wrist.

“It’s hard to believe that we were in Gotham just an hour or two ago.” She took in his body dressed in a black suit without his usual tie. His face was clean and he’d refreshed his hair with some gel, the smell was comforting. 

“Tonight could have ended very differently…” he looked at his food. The butler and his wife left the room, going back into the kitchen.

“Thank you for what you said this morning,” she flicked her eyes up to his. He looked back and caught his breath. She looked stunning and he felt the need to pinch himself to remember where they were and how they’d gotten there in the first place. He remembered telling her to do as he said because he wanted her to live and he worried that Ra’s would go back on his word, and as he suspected, Ra’s had, just not with her. 

“I’m just glad that we came to our agreement when we did, before Ra’s. I’ll admit that my desire to keep you alive was more selfish than chivalrous because I needed you for my own reasons.” 

“Like what?” She raised her eyebrow and cut a piece of meat. It melted on her tongue and she swallowed it slowly, watching him. 

“I have plans for Gotham, plans that would involve you,” he cocked his head towards her, adding, “of course. I don’t know yet how Ra’s plans will play out but I suspect that he will fail. Batman will think that he’s saved the city from ‘bad guys’ but,” he leaned in closer, “I’m not so easily defeated and I suspect that we’ll run into each other again.”

“Are you sure that you can trust me with these plans of yours,” she opened herself up to him and stood, looming over Crane in his seat,” these plans that also include me?” She rested her knee on the edge of his seat between his legs, straddling his thigh. Crane looked up at her calmly, unmoved by the position of her knee against his crotch or the heat of her cunt hovering above his thigh. Crane watched her for a moment, letting a heavy silence fall between them before inhaling and shifting his torso closer as if he were going to whisper something to her. 

“Like I told Ra’s,” he started quietly, his eyes dark and harsh at the candlelight table. His hand squeezed the bottom of her thigh above her knee, she gasped quietly, “I’ll make sure that I can trust you…” his hand snaked up the inside of her thigh beneath her dress. He pulled the edge of her stocking away from her thigh and let it snap painfully back against her skin. “Won’t I?” He asked darkly as his forehead creased slightly. She gasped again as his hand found her underwear and stroked her clothed cunt. “Won’t. I?” He sneered and she remembered to nod. “Answer me,” he snapped and brushed his fingers past the crotch of her underwear, spreading the wetness between her legs with the pads of his fingertips. 

“Yes,” she hissed breathlessly, closing her eyes as he rubbed her cunt, creating a dangerous friction. 

“You’re pissing me off, detective.” He growled and roughly began to finger her, shoving two fingers harshly inside. She yelped and looked down at Crane, his eyes flashed. 

“Why, Dr. Crane?” She wrapped her fingers around the base of his neck, her thumb sitting right below his adam's apple. She smiled when his other hand gripped her thigh harder. She moved her hips on his fingers and he watched with interest as she dripped around his fingers. “How can I fix it for you?” She purred against his cheek, moaning softly as he fingered her and teased her clit with his thumb. She began to pant and instinctively moved her thighs together as the pleasure became too much. She squeezed around his fingers and her hands tightened around his throat, about to cum.  

“Behave,” he whispered seriously and removed his fingers before she could finish. She groaned in frustration and held his face between her hands. 

“You’re such a tease, Jonathan.” She scolded him and he smiled. 

“And you’re a horny little slut.” He whispered close to her lips and she shook her head, smiling giddily. 

“I’m just a horny little slut for you.” She ran her tongue across his lips, dragging it up to his nose. She let go of his face and plopped back into her chair, crossing her legs pointedly. Crane rolled his eyes and raised his fingers to his mouth. He sucked her juices from his hand as she watched and then finished his drink, ignoring her when she whined with lust. 

“You’re like a dog,” he rested his elbow on the table, “you think you’ll get what you want if you whine enough.” He delivered the sentence with a knowing look and returned to his food. She didn’t want to admit to herself how much that turned her on. She huffed and tucked her hair behind her ear and finished her martini hungrily. She finally had a moment to glance around the room and when she did, she saw a beautiful fire burning in a stone fireplace. 

“That’s beautiful,” she gestured to the fireplace carved with cherubs. Crane looked and nodded. 

“I think so too. We haven’t had fires in the fireplace since I was a child. You may have noticed that part of the house was destroyed.” 

She nodded.

“That’s because the house almost burned down when I was…” he frowned as he thought, “five or six?” He shrugged and sighed, looking into the blazing fire. “My father never let us use the fireplaces after that. It made for cold winters,” He flicked his eyes up to hers and she shivered. 

“I can imagine,” she thought back to her childhood in the orphanage, freezing at night during any season that wasn’t summer.

“The house will be a lot warmer now,” he said casually and allowed a small smirk to tug at his lips. 

“What happened to ‘behaving ourselves’?” She crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow in fake disapproval. Crane chuckled and leaned back in his chair. 

“I have no idea what you mean,” he lied and they went back to eating when Hobbs entered with dessert. 

iii 

It was nearly 2am when they finally climbed the grand staircase to return to their rooms. There was a large common room that separated the two wings of the house on the second floor. The wing to their right was burned and stood empty. 

“Where’s your room?” She furrowed her brow as they walked down the hallway, passing the laundry chute. Crane pointed to a room at the mouth of the hallway, near the top of the stairs. Her’s was at the opposite end of the hallway. She smiled and spun around, facing her side of the hallway. She let him watch her walk away, moving her hips as loosely as she could manage. When she opened her door, she turned slightly and gave him a closed-mouth smile, her eyes teasing him. He crossed his arms and leaned against his door, his expression unreadable. She closed her door and did a few extra happy-spins for good measure. She kicked off her shoes and explored the bathroom, finding herself in a mood for a bath after not showering the night before. She turned on the bath’s faucet and filled the large tub with hot water. As she undressed, she spotted a row of cosmetics set out for her use, and included in the assortment was the shampoo that she used at home. A small part of her found it scary that Crane had obviously gone through her home to find the things she liked but more than that, she felt honored that he had planned his backup plan with her in mind. He’d asked the housekeepers to prepare her a room and stock it with clothes and shampoo, all just in case she came with him. He’d imagined her coming with him, and that nearly made her cry. She slipped into the hot water and scrubbed every inch of her body, trying to remove all of the sweat, dirt, and debris that had stuck to her skin over the past 24 hours. She washed her hair with the mint shampoo as Crane had guessed she used correctly before. The suds ran down her hair and between her shoulder blades as her hands worked the shampoo into her head. She ducked her head beneath the water and watched as her hair floated out around her head. When she came up for air, her hair stuck to her back and she sighed pleasantly. 

The bathroom was cold when she left the security of the hot water so she quickly wrapped herself in a thick towel and brushed her hair. She rubbed lotion into her dry skin and toweled off her hair. The housekeepers had given her numerous sets of pajamas in different styles. She guessed Crane had decided against going through her underwear drawer, what a gentleman. She liked soft lounge pants and t-shirts so she changed into the dark blue set they had provided for her and unmade her bed. The wide windows on the side wall looked out on the field and she could just barely see the outline of the scarecrow. The house itself had a strange and suffocating feel. She wondered what Crane may have endured here, what secrets he hid inside himself. 

She bit the inside of her cheek and found the gun that she’d brought with her from Gotham. She hid the gun behind the headboard of her bed and sat with her knees pressed up to her chest on the mattress. She wrapped her arms around her legs and shivered, goosebumps rose on her legs and she rocked back and forth, resting her head on her knee like a child. Should she feel guilty for betraying her precinct? Should she worry about Sgt. Gordon and Gotham itself? What had Gotham given her? How had it protected her? She felt torn between a route of righteousness and one of passion. Crane offered her a path to her own future set outside the laws of society where she could create her own identity. She didn’t want to be the good girl cop anymore, she wanted to be everything else and she wanted Crane. 

Crane was testing her. He wanted to see how badly she actually wanted him, how much she would fight to be with him. He needed her to be obsessed, foaming at the mouth at the thought of him. Maybe he was psychotic, sure (he was). His father certainly was and it usually runs in families. Crane’s manic obsession was her and he needed her, but before he could trust her, he had to be sure that she was totally and completely loyal to him. He knew she had her gun and he assumed she’d suffered more internal dialogue since escaping Gotham (he was a psychiatrist, so of course he knew these things). If he pushed her away would she cling to him more or feel the need to betray him? He had to admit that this test was grueling for him too. He didn’t think that he was capable of love or real attraction, he was a psychopath, literally. He’d studied himself as much as he had the subjects in his textbooks in school and he checked all the boxes but this- this- was a new development that he didn’t quite understand. It almost made him angry when he thought of the power she could wield over him if he got too close. She’d spoken so much of trust and he wanted to trust her. He did. But he’d trusted Ra’s, he’d trusted his father and at one point in his life he’d trusted Sgt. Gordon. Those relationships had not ended well. Then this prissy young detective comes along and confronts him with feelings he didn’t think he could have. That was why she was the subject of his fear toxin reaction. She’d found a way to matter to him and losing her had already become his worst fear. He wanted… oh god there were so many things that he wanted from her. He hoped that it wouldn’t take much longer because he was starting to lose patience. 

She stared at the ceiling above her bed and tried to touch herself. She didn’t have her vibrator and Crane had made a point of pushing her away, so she was left to rough it out with her hands. She hadn’t been stuck with just her bare hands since college. Her vibrator had obviously spoiled her and she felt nowhere near as much pleasure without it, though Crane had come extremely close the night before. She dug her heels into the mattress and bit her lip, concentrating as hard as she could on Crane. She remembered the way he spoke to her as he fucked her, how calm and direct he’d been with her body. They both had needs and desires and he hadn’t let insecurities or formalities stand in the way. Her body was craving a release that she’d teased it with twice already that day and she couldn’t fall asleep without trying to appease it. After ten minutes of heavy breathing and a sore arm she collapsed in frustration across her bed. She desperately wanted him and nothing was going to cut it unless it was him inside her. Something- anything. She groaned into her hands and kicked the blankets off of her. 

The door handle creaked and Crane shifted in his half-sleep haze. The bed moved around him and he was startled awake by the girl, straddling his hips. He kept a smile from his lips as he looked up at her. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He got out before her hand clamped around his mouth. She shushed him. 

“Listen here, Crane. Since we have an understanding,” she used his word for their relationship, “I’ll tell it to you straight. I want you. I need you. I have very few needs because I’m a simple girl, but right now, you’re one of them. I’ll ask you nicely and if you humor me, I won’t cause trouble.”

“Trouble?” His voice was muffled against her hand as he raised his eyebrow. 

“I have a whole round of trouble tucked away behind my headboard.” 

“Nice threat. So, you what? Want to rape me?” He propped himself up on his elbows. 

She hooked her finger around the collar of his black t-shirt and sighed. 

“You have such a dirty mind. Why do you have to make it sound so perverted?” She held his chin tightly in her hand and dragged her other hand down his chest stopping at the waistband of his pants. 

“That’s what it is, detective.” He cocked his head to the side and rested it on his shoulder. “Are you really going to do that to me?” 

“Says the man that strapped me to a slab and drugged me three times,” she held up three fingers to stress her point and shifted her hips on his crotch. 

“We both have problems, what do you want me to say?” 

“That you’ll fuck me,” she started to grind her hips and he withheld his sinful exhale. 

“Oh?” He said instead, “what if I’m too tired? Fucking is hard work.”

“Then let me do it,” she shrugged with a smile, “I’ll make us both feel good.” Crane raised a skeptical eyebrow and smirked. 

“You really didn’t get enough at dinner did you?” He teased and she shook her head. 

“You have no idea.”

He watched her rub herself against him and then slowly allowed his eyes to meet hers. She moaned just looking into his eyes and he laughed. 

“Ok, let’s see how you do.” He allowed her casually and watched as she bounced happily on his lap and scooted down to his knees. She pulled down the blanket and worked her hands below his waistband. He was already hard and she scoffed, pissed that he hadn’t admitted how turned on he was too. He smirked as she pulled his cock out of his pants and rolled her tongue around the tip. When she took him in her mouth he sighed softly, his mouth open as he watched her give him head. She swirled her tongue around his length and she bobbed her head up and down. She sucked and dragged her mouth slowly over him until he bucked softly into her mouth. She felt her stomach get hot with excitement and she worked harder, humming against him as she took him deeper. Crane clenched his fists and groaned. She pulled her mouth to the top of his cock and sucked hard, teasing his climax which she could tell was fast approaching. His forehead was creased and he squeezed his eyes shut, allowing his head to fall back with a low gasp. 

“Fuck alright, that’s enough,” He sat up again and smirked, “get what you want out of me.” He panted and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. She licked her lips and crawled off the bed. Crane watched her as she stepped out of her bottoms and straddled him once more, naked from the waist down. His erection rested against her stomach and he swallowed, staring at her bare cunt. 

“I hope you like what you see,” she whispered and removed her top. Her breasts shifted slightly against her skin as she moved and her hair fell around her in a sultry mess. “Because it all belongs to you now,” she pressed her hands against his stomach for balance and leaned closer. “But this,” she looked him up and down, landing on his beautiful eyes and smiling, “this belongs to me.” 

“Silly girl,” he barely shook his head as his eyes trained on her, “I don’t belong to anyone.” 

“We’ll see about that,” she shrugged and bit her lip as she lowered herself onto his cock. She whined in relief and moved her hips slowly. She was so wet he could her himself move inside of her as she fucked him. Crane’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he released a tight breath. 

“Fuuuuck…” he hissed and she squeezed around him, nearly orgasming just by hearing the pleasure in his voice. She panted breathlessly as she started to move up and down, her hands balanced on his navel where there was a thin dusting of hair. He thrusted up involuntarily and they both moaned. She sped up slightly, moving her hips back and forth. Crane’s hands found the fleshy handles of her hips and dug his fingers into her skin. He had laid back completely making it so that he had to raise his head when he wanted to watch how she snapped down on him. She let her head fall back and moaned loudly as his cock hit the right place each time. The pleasure was so good between her legs that her release felt like the desire to pee. When her climax snapped, her eyes rolled back and she gasped, riding it out and enjoying the pressure of him inside her as it carried her through the high. Her climax triggered his as he felt her cum around her. 

“You’re going to cum inside me,” she panted and whimpered through the sensations. 

“Is that an order?” He gritted out, his fingers leaving bruises on her hips. He was trying to hold off his orgasm but as she nodded and squeezed him again, he let himself cum inside her with a loud groan. She sat for a second longer as he finished and finally moved off. She cleaned him off, sucking his swollen cock and swallowing all of the excess cum and discharge that had collected along his length. He covered his face with his hands as he tried to catch his breath.

“Are you going to leave it in?” He asked in a deep, tired voice. 

“Your cum?” 

“Yes, are you going to leave it in you?” He removed his hands and watched as she crawled up the bed to sit beside him. 

“Do you want me to?” She let her hair fall around them and he twirled the end of one of the pieces. 

He thought for a moment before nodding his head, “yes.” She curled up beside him and draped her leg between his. He exhaled slowly and wrapped his arm around the back of her head, resting his hand on her shoulder. She rubbed her nose against his chest, breathing in the clean smell of his t-shirt. Crane closed his eyes and waited as her breathing became more regular and slow. She started to fall asleep, her hand clasped against his ribs. When she was asleep, he propped himself up on one arm and watched her. Words couldn’t describe how good that was, what she did for him. It was better than their first time when the roles had been reversed. He liked that she could touch him and explore him with a needily innocence like a horny teenager. Crane thought about his cum still sitting inside her, collecting around her inner-thighs. He kissed her as she slept deeply, licking the salty taste from her lips and swallowing. She made a noise in her sleep and he drew his hand around her perfect breast, admiring her body in the dull glow of the moon. Gotham would be no match for them once they were united. No one could stop them, not even themselves. Once they started they could never stop, they had to take everything from each other. His head fell back into his pillow and he kissed the curve of her throat before allowing himself to fall asleep beside her. He’d never slept with a woman after sex. She was the first. 

iv 

They woke up late in the morning and dressed warmly, both wearing sweaters and long pants. Crane had traded in his suit for more casual wear though his attire was always oozing with old money aesthetic. After a breakfast of eggs benedict and black coffee, Crane asked if she wanted to see the house. 

“Of course,” she smiled and nodded excitedly. There were some questions she still had for Crane and she had her own list of theories and thoughts that the house inspired inside her. She worried what the house would reveal and more importantly, what it may say about Crane. She wondered if he had lived a childhood similar to hers, one of trauma and violence, even if he had lived in a huge mansion with every monetary item he could ever desire. 

They started outside the house, walking the grounds. The exterior of the house was set in elaborate stone carvings. The roofs were made of dark terracotta, framing widow peaks at the top of many of the towers. Crane watched her reaction as they rounded to the side of the house with the destroyed wing, still black from the burning. She could even still smell the charcoal made from the house’s old paneling. 

“Your father never rebuilt it?” She asked, curious. Crane studied the crumbling structure and shook his head.

“No, he died before making plans for a renovation.” She looked at him quickly and met his eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” 

“But you understand.” 

She nodded slowly, “I was an orphan, I never knew my parents.” 

“So was I.” He clenched his jaw and looked down at the ground. 

“Your mother?” She asked hesitantly. 

“She died, here, in this wing.” He pointed to the second floor of the burned wing. “That was her room.” 

“You were young then too,” she remembered and he nodded. “Do you remember your mother?” 

“Some things but nothing that brings me much comfort. I remember how she died and I remember how my father mourned her.” 

“So she died in the fire?”

“Yes,” he nodded and folded his arms across his chest, “she was trapped inside after the fire started. They weren’t able to save her. My father was never the same after that.”

“When did your father die?” 

“Before I went to college…” he trailed off and they stood in silence for a moment. “He was a chemist, you know.” 

“No, I didn’t know. Did he teach you?”

Crane chuckled darkly, “I guess you could say that. He used me for his experiments.” He scowled. What he had said back in Arkham came back to her mind and she risked asking more. 

“Jonathan?” She started. 

“Yes?” He asked, his voice hard and protective like a layer of ice. 

“What did he do to you?” 

Crane swallowed and turned away from the house, forcing her to hurry behind him to keep up. His hair was tousled by the wind as he walked through the icy field. As the slope curved downwards, he finally started to speak. 

“He was the one who first came up with the idea for the fear serum. After my mother’s death he became obsessed with it and started to test it on himself like a lunatic. It messed with his head and made him relive my mother’s death over and over again until he finally had to stop and find a new subject. His new subject became me.” He darted his eyes angrily around the ground as he spoke, spit flying from his lips. “He would give me the toxin and at the time, it was 10x more dangerous. He used me to gauge the body’s reactions to fear and kept track of what the brain imagined during that state of panic. He wanted to create a cure for fear, a way to remove the body’s reaction to it. At some point he made a breakthrough in the case using people he’d kidnapped and found a way to remove a person’s ability to be afraid. He used it on himself and after that, his natural instincts became mute. When I was sixteen he brought me here,” he stopped suddenly and she looked as he gestured at the scarecrow hanging from its perch, “and he administered the drug one last time.”

“What happened?” She whispered, her blood going cold. 

“I overdosed on the serum and hallucinated that the scarecrow was alive but the fear I felt was multiplied from the large dose of toxin. Your old boss, Sgt Gordon, found us out here having come to arrest my father for kidnapping and murder. Because my father no longer feared anything, he charged Gordon and Gordon shot him. He died where we’re standing… and I watched it. I watched it all happen.” He stared at the scarecrow, his face set. He didn’t show any emotion as he recounted his father’s death, his own trauma. 

“What did Gordon do?” She stepped closer but left him a small circle of space, a safety net. 

“He took me to the hospital and once I recovered, they brought me back here.”

“You were so young,” she whispered sadly, wanting to cry for him. 

“So were you, weren’t you, when you were left at the doors of Gotham’s orphanage?” She nodded. 

“I was a baby.” She hugged herself and stared down at the ground beneath them.

“That’s why I think we’re so similar. We raised ourselves- you and I.” He smirked, “it would explain our similar psychology.” 

“The fact that we’re both deeply disturbed? Sure, I’ll give you that,” she laughed lightly, her nose burned in the cold air. 

“Mm… deeply disturbed,” Crane sounded out the words with a soft hiss. 

“Psychotic?” She offered. 

“Psychopathic.” 

“Deranged.” 

“That’s not a medical diagnosis I’m familiar with,” he looked down at her, taking in the profile of her ruddy cheeks blistering in the wind. 

‘But not far off is it?” She smiled and looped her fingers in the front of his sweater, her hands brushing the hard muscle beneath. 

“Hmmm, I don’t know. I’ll have to conduct more thorough examinations.. I’d kill to have a look inside your head.” His fingers traced her hairline and pulled gently on her hair.  

“I have a few ideas for other places you could examine,” she teased and he smirked, coming back from his temporary emotional lag. 

“Intriguing offer, detective.”

“Thank you, Dr. Crane,” she returned his smirk and pulled him away from the scarecrow. He followed her. “Why did you choose the scarecrow as your alias?” she brought the conversation back and his forehead creased again as he thought. 

“I was forced to face my fear and after I returned here with just Hobbs and his wife to keep me company. I decided to take back the power that the scarecrow took away from me that day. Embracing my fear made me stronger, more powerful,” He answered seriously and she nodded. 

“Why did you improve your father’s fear toxin if you knew what it was capable of?” She asked quietly, watching for his reaction. 

“I made it because I knew what it was capable of. People like us have suffered, we’ve been wronged, we’ve been abandoned and ignored. There are people in this world who have the privilege of never being afraid because they have nothing to fear. I made it originally to use on the city’s elite, the people who think they’re better than me because they think they’re wealthier than I am, smarter than I am. Ra’s distracted me from my plan and I know now that I was right from the very beginning, Batman and his like need to be dethroned. We can be the ones to do it.” 

She looked into his eyes and kissed him, drawing his face down to hers by the rough collar of his sweater. His lips were dry from the wind. When she pulled away he held her face between his hands and looked at her seriously, his nostrils flared. 

“Do you still trust me after everything I just told you? Do you still want to be with me?” He asked her calmly, a dark glint in his eye. She dropped her head to the side and he caught it easily in his palm. 

“Yes, yes.” She nodded. 

They walked in silence, their hands brushing against each other and their hair blowing in the short gusts of wind. 

v 

“There’s still something you should know,” Crane began as they crossed through the door into the grand entry hall. 

“Like how you learned to ride a horse?” She joked but Crane didn’t smile. His face was hard again as it had been before. Her smile faded slowly and she felt her heart shutter and drop. “What?” She whispered and Crane left without another word, so she followed him hesitantly. He led her down into the basement, taking a stone staircase hidden behind a wall panel that also served as a door. Their steps echoed in the small space, electric sconces burned along the creepy passage. Finally Crane stopped at the door at the bottom of the stairs. The door was made of solid steel and Crane had to enter a passcode to open it. 

“Through here,” he guided her through the door and closed it behind them. The room was large and cave-like, lined with bookshelves and lab equipment. She gave an appreciative gasp, taking in the room that served as Crane’s office and private lab. “This was my father’s lab and when he died, it became mine.” He walked around to his desk and rummaged through one of the bottom drawers, removing a few small folders and placing them on his desk. He rested his knuckles on the cherry wood surface and sighed, finally meeting her eyes since they got back to the house. 

“Back to our topic of trust, I should tell you that I did a little snooping, if you will, into your past when we first started crossing paths. I wanted to know who I was dealing with, which is why I did this and now that we’ve ended up here together, I feel that it’s only right,” the word tasted bitter on his tongue, “to show you what I found. I’ve always told you that we’re alike, that we understand each other but I’ve never explained why. This is why I know we’re alike, Y/N.” He opened the front flap of each folder and pushed them down to the front of the desk. “You should know what happened to you as a child, the things they never told you at the orphanage.” He waited as she swallowed and looked between the papers and Crane. 

“What do you mean?” She whispered, “the things that happened to me?” 

“How the Wayne family ruined both of our lives.” His voice was slow and dark like syrup and it took her a few seconds to process what he was saying, what he was implying. She looked down at the folders again and took a step closer. When she reached his desk, she scanned the documents with blurred vision. “What… what do they say?” She rubbed her eyes and stepped away. Crane took the first folder, his jaw clenched. 

“Y/L/N, Y/N was born into the Arkham family, the founders of Arkham Asylum. Her parents were known to have had numerous disagreements with the Wayne family over the inappropriate use of the criminal justice system by moving people whom the Waynes didn’t like into the asylum. The Arkhams did not believe that the Waynes should have had the right to imprison their political enemies and opponents and tried to inform the public. The message to the press and other government officials was intercepted by the Wayne administration and destroyed, though one draft of the letter was salvaged from the Arkham’s trash and archived in the police station, it was never investigated. The Arkhams, both in their early 30s, were found dead a week later in their home. With no other living relatives, the baby, named Matilda Y/N Arkham by her parents, was discreetly handed over to Gotham orphanage by people closely connected to Wayne following the murder.” He paused, his eyes flicking up. She had gone white and her hand was clamped around one of the shelves on a nearby bookshelf. She looked up at him when he stopped and tried to speak but nothing came. He still waited, giving her time to speak but when she didn’t, he continued. 

“My private investigator found this from government records, including records still housed in Gotham orphanage. They knew this whole time and never informed you even after you became a legal adult. They never investigated your parents’ death and Thomas Wayne, the father of Gotham’s famous playboy, Bryce Wayne, never paid for his actions. He continued to imprison his enemies and without your parents there to run the asylum, it fell into its current state. Nothing I could have done with Arkham would have ever salvaged it after what Wayne’s administration did. So, you see now why I said that we were alike in so many ways. The Wayne’s have too much power even now and someone needs to do something about it.” Crane sighed and walked back to the front of his desk and leaned against it, his eyes lowered to the ground. She inhaled deeply. 

“You said something about Wayne ruining both of our lives. What did he do to you?” She asked him, her face red from stress and emotion. 

“He killed my mother,” he answered evenly and they met each others’ eyes. Her questioning eyes prompted Crane to explain. “He visited my mother whom he’d been seeing for a few months. She wanted to end things because she had me and I was getting older, and her marriage was starting to improve; she no longer wanted to be his mistress. He got angry and locked her inside her bedroom and then he lit a fire, right outside her room. He left before anyone realized what had happened. They found the key in her bedroom door, still inside the lock, locking the door from the outside. They knew that something had happened and the people in the police department knew the rumors, the secret love affair between Mrs. Crane and Mr. Wayne. There was a whole case but the police commissioner closed it and it was never solved. My father was a good man before that day, my mother’s murder drove him insane. For years it led him to do things that he shouldn’t have done. Wayne had a hand in my fate too, setting up my parents’ demise. I would have ended up alongside you at Gotham’s orphanage if Hobbs and his wife didn’t agree to look after me for those last two years before I was old enough to be my own guardian. Thomas Wayne died when I was eleven and yet, he still managed to kill my father from the grave. So, we’re connected by a chain of discord welded together by the Wayne family.”

“Yes…” he whispered and sank down into a dusty armchair. “So my real name is Matilda Arkham?” 

“Technically speaking, yes.” 

“And so that means Arkham Asylum also belongs to me?” 

Crane smiled with his wide lips closed, “technically.”  

Realization clicked in and she couldn’t help but laugh. She covered her mouth with her palms and laughed hysterically. Crane smiled down at his feet and scratched the side of his face. Though she suddenly realized that her entire life had been a lie, she laughed because now, everything made sense. And by some disturbed twist of fate, she and Crane had been bound to be together all because of Thomas Wayne. She pulled herself from the chair and looked at the family picture included in one of the folders. Crane leaned over her shoulder, breathing calmly against her neck. Goosebumps rose on her arms as she studied the picture. Lying in the arms of a woman with strawberry blonde hair, was her. Her father held her foot in between his fingers, smiling down at her with brown eyes. She’d seen their portrait in passing in the asylum and yet she’d never placed why they managed to look so… familiar. They’d been celebrated psychiatrists in their time. She looked at Crane, still leaning against the desk beside her, his blue eyes were trained on her face. So that’s why she had a thing for psychiatrists, she realized. 

“Are you ready to hear my plan now,” he asked her with a smirk, “... Miss Arkham?” 

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

I Can Fix That... Pt. 2 | Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

author's note: I decided to make a pt. 2 purely for my own enjoyment, though I hope there are others out there as sadistic as myself. I finally watched the Batman trilogy and did research on DC fan pages to write this. It follows the plot of Nolan's DC adaptation so all characters mentioned (like Ra's Al Ghul) are from the comics and movies.

Summary| She gave into Crane because she needed to survive, at least that's what she's tried to tell herself, but there was something about this man that just felt so painfully... right. Now Crane has a proposition and he doesn't intend to take no for an answer because he's starting to like her -- uh oh-- too much. Where will their new agreement lead them when Gotham devolves into chaos?

Warnings| Based on an DC action movie- drugging, slut shaming, fear and terror, dubious kidnapping, restraints, drugs, physical violence, spitting, toxic relationship, mentions of a gun, chaos, and needles. I know- it's a lot.

word count: 8596k (lol oopsies?)

Wires- The Neighborhood 🎶

Where did you sleep last night- Iridium, Salazar, Liam Marks 🎵

Caesar on a TV Screen- The Last Dinner Party 🎶

i 

The detective nodded her head, surprised that she’d so easily forgotten her plan. Dr. Crane sniffed and spun his set of keys around his finger casually. 

“Now the best thing about being the creator of my fear serum,” he started, moving to the shelf of vials he had previously sorted, “is that I have an endless supply and every opportunity to use it whenever I want.” She could hear him smile but she could no longer see him. Crane admittedly liked the girl and he’d fucked her as a minor pivot in his original plan for the night. Now, it was time for business. He pulled a dish of powder from a locked drawer and hid it away from sight as he crossed back into the girl’s view. “You may think you understand what my serum can do, but you’ll never truly know until you try it.” She furrowed her brow and shook her head, wishing that she could back away from him but she couldn’t move. He changed the subject swiftly, not giving her a moment. 

“I applaud you for your performance tonight. I was more than willing to humor you and of course, your present state did you many favors. I like my women tied down…” he joked and chuckled darkly. “But now, we need to get practical.” He removed his glasses and folded them slowly. He slipped them into his breast pocket. “You know too much, Miss —, and we both know that your current allegiance to your job would prioritize a crude sense of justice over your affection for me. We can’t have that, can we? So, I’d like to propose a solution or a treatment of sorts.” He clenched his jaw, angling his head down so that he was looking up at her through his eyelashes. “You’ve already proven to yourself tonight that the mind has complete control over the body. Desire rules judgment… and I want to rule you.” He smiled darkly. Before she could speak, powder was thrown into her face, blocking every orifice with a sickening gas. 

The anxiety was immediate. She saw strange creatures approach her from all sides, poking and prodding her with dirty nails. She saw the walls leak a disgusting fluid, like blood and fecal matter and it spilled over the floor. People sorted through the liquid for scraps, children screamed and cried around her. She’d been one of those children, raised in an orphanage because her parents couldn’t afford to keep her. Strange men swarmed the children, offering toxic treats and money for favors which the children shied away from. She screamed, pulling at her restraints as she tried to fight off the assailants. She shook her head violently side to side, and she screamed involuntarily with raw terror at what she saw. In the midst of a nightmare of Gotham’s poverty and dark underbelly, Dr. Jonathan Crane stood calmly before her. He watched her, his arms crossed against his chest. He cocked his head to the side. 

“What do you see,” he asked calmly. She turned her attention to him like he was a beacon of light in a horrible storm. 

“Jonathan, help me!” She cried. 

“Tell me what you see,” he said again and clucked his tongue to calm her. She looked around again at the people she saw, rummaging through mountains of trash. 

“Horrible… horrible poverty. The things… the things I saw as a child. People starving, children crying…” she whimpered. Rats scrambled across her body and she screamed again, shaking against the table. “Jonathan, please!” She called for him and he waded towards her, oblivious to the horror around him. He stood above her and stroked her face. He removed the restraints from her waist and her wrists and helped her sit up. The things she saw darted out of her peripheral vision, distorted now and hard to understand. She couldn’t run because she couldn’t tell where she was anymore, where her body was in relation to her perspective. Did she even still have a body?

Dr. Crane grunted as he helped her off the table and held her up beside him. She fainted in his arms and he carried her out of the secondary lab into the corridor. He punched the elevator’s call button with his free hand and dragged her inside. As the large steel doors closed, he fished for his cellphone in his pocket and called his driver, telling him to meet him outside the hospital immediately. Crane hushed her, gently patting her head though she was still unconscious. The elevator dropped them at the floor she’d entered on originally and Crane carried her to the side door, ignoring the looks the night attendants gave the strange couple. A sleek black car waited outside in the alley, the engine running and dispelling smoky exhaust into the air around them. Crane opened the car door and helped her inside, smirking at the security guard at the door. 

“Our meeting was successful, thank you officer.” He waved goodnight to the security guard who shifted awkwardly in his seat at the side door. Climbing in after her, Crane leaned over the console to speak with his driver. 

“My apartment, please.” He gave the order sternly, even with the addition of the ‘please,’ and the driver nodded, speeding off into Gotham’s dark streets. His hand rested comfortably on her thigh as he watched her. She started to come to in the backseat, though the effects of the drug had still not worn off. Her breath was fast and she leaned deliriously into Crane’s shoulder, seeking protection from what she saw outside the tinted windows. She was so afraid that she felt safer in the arms of the man that had drugged her, and it would take hours to realize that, but by the time she did, the psychological effects would have already taken root. 

ii 

The car stopped outside of a dark apartment building in one of the only nice parts of town in Gotham city. It was raining as he helped her back out of the car and into the large lobby of his apartment building. She clung to his arm as he led her into an elevator, playing a soft melody that sounded like shrill screams to her intoxicated mind. As the elevator doors opened, effects of the drug began to wane though her heartbeat was still racing. She looked up at Crane’s sharp jaw and how he clenched it as he opened the door to his apartment and pushed her gently inside. 

“I pay my people extra to turn a blind eye to everything that I do. I understand these circumstances appear even more nefarious, being that I have admittedly drugged you and brought you to my apartment. What can I say, I’m a bad feminist.” He smiled darkly and locked the door. 

“When do I stop seeing… these things?” She collapsed into a chair behind her and cradled her head in her hands. 

“The effects will be gone in an hour,” he responded coolly and switched on some of the lights in his modern apartment. The apartment was two stories with a spiral staircase and an elevator that led to the upstairs. She looked around, trying her best to ignore the hallucinations and study the actual apartment itself. 

“You’ll be disappointed to know that I don’t have a lab here, it’s against the building’s codes. I spend very little time here actually, I’m always at Arkham or dealing with detectives… like you. I’m a busy man. Like I already told you, I have plans to ‘treat’ Falcone tomorrow so I’ll need that room free. This is the next best option and I think you’ll find it more comfortable in comparison.” He smirked and flicked a switch, immediately two restraints looped tightly around her wrists, emerging from a panel in the arms of the chair that she hadn’t noticed. Second restraints looped around her ankles, reminding her as her ankles were spread apart that he had removed her underwear. She turned her knees inward, hiding her crotch and scoffing with frustration. 

“Again?” She groaned and pulled at the strong leather material holding her to the chair. 

“You sound disappointed,” Crane observed with a small smirk. “It’s only temporary. I didn’t get a chance to question you back at the lab, so we’ll do that here.” He gestured to his empty apartment and started to walk toward her slowly. His lips curled cruelly as he looked her up and down, strapped to the chair. “So tell me, what do you know?” He whispered and she stopped struggling for a moment. She still felt jumpy and nervous but having him so close relieved some of those feelings. The effects of the drug wore off more but the underlying sense of anxiety and loss of control prompted her to answer honestly.

I know that you are trying to make a powerful drug that mimics fear and so far, you’ve put it in a powder form. It works when ingested in some ways and immediately elicits a response that incapacitates the victim. You want to use it widely, to control Gotham…”

“Right, what else.” He leaned on the arms of the chair, his hands grasped around her wrists. 

“You don’t work for Falcone but you work with someone else. You’ve just been using Falcone’s drug operation to move your own prototypes of the fear serum. You want to be in charge and you know that fear can do whatever you want it to. The mind controls the body,” she recalled a sentence that he had used before he had thrown the powder in her face. “You’re also somehow connected to the missing micro-wave emmitter. I don’t know why but it may help you in some way, how?” She was breathing heavily like she was going to fall asleep. 

“Good work, detective.” 

“What are you using the micro-wave emitter for?” She asked. He chuckled and removed his hands from her wrists, backing up. He approached a small liquor cart and poured himself a drink, straight gin. She continued as he drank. 

“Who are you working with and how do you expect to control Gotham when everyone loses their minds?” She could barely contain her voice, anger and confusion rose into her throat like bile. 

“So many questions…” he swallowed and set down his glass, turning back to her slowly. “Aren’t you supposed to figure that out for yourself?” He raised his eyebrow. 

“The mirco-wave emitter would dry out any water supply that it comes into contact with. Wouldn’t it be easier to poison the water supply, you would reach more people… unless it doesn’t have the same effect when administered in water.” She looked up at him but his face was hard. “That’s why you’ve been using it in a powder, it only works in a powder form. If you dry up the water supply and release the powder into the air, there isn’t a way to combat the effects, is there?” 

Crane smiled and nodded slowly, “right again.” 

“How can you control people who have lost their minds on the serum? You can’t control chaos.” She furrowed her brow and leaned forward, questioning him. Crane cocked his head and studied her for a moment, noticing the last traces of the fear serum leaving her body. 

“Control has many forms, Y/N. The chaos that will come from my serum is planned, its existence is strategically executed.”

“But why are you doing this?” 

“I love it when you get flustered,” he chuckled darkly at her and licked his lips, his eyes rolling before returning to her face. “It’s not just me, I work for a large organization that has been responsible for all historical catastrophes throughout history. We deal in balance, balanced chaos. They hired me because I can control fear, I know how to use it and weaponize it. Gotham needs to be balanced and it cannot be balanced without it first destroying itself. Create a closed environment with the population’s problems and confront them with chaos, the balance will soon be restored.” 

“Who do you work for?” She whispered, her eyes wide. 

“Don’t you mean, who do we work for?” He crouched at her feet and placed his hands on her thighs. He smiled crazily up at her and she leaned away from him. 

“What?” She whispered. 

“I work for the League of Shadows, and now, so do you.” He dug his finger into the soft bottom of her chin and pushed her head up so that she could see the second floor more clearly. 

Standing at the rail were men clad in dark armor. One man stood out from the rest. He wore a black suit and carried a gold-tipped cane. He had long whiskers of gray hair like a mustache and steady cool eyes, deadlier than Crane’s.  

“Good work, Dr. Crane.” The man kept his focus on her and her blood went cold. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Miss —. We’ve heard so much about you and of course, you’re the one that has caused us so much trouble!” He laughed sarcastically and descended the spiral staircase. 

“Who are you?” She growled. 

“Ra’s Al Ghul,” he smiled and the wrinkles on his face creased, pulling against his eyes. “I see you’ve already become acquainted with Dr. Crane, our very own criminal mastermind.”

“You’re too kind,” Crane smarted back, watching the girl’s face as she tried to take in all of the new information. 

“Now, I have a job proposition to offer you, Miss —. You seem to have figured most of our plan out but I don’t think you understand the complexity of our organization. You see, the League of Shadows is an ancient organization that has balanced the harmony of every major city in the world since the beginning of time. Gotham has gone bad, to the point of no return. Your ‘Batman’ as you call him can’t reverse what has been brewing for years. He never saw what you did, how the people of Gotham live in filth and poverty while the elite few enjoy the spoils. This city needs to be reborn, it needs chaos to restore the balance.”

“But wouldn’t you be killing thousands of innocent people?” She interjected and Al Ghul shrugged slightly. 

“Nobody’s innocent,” he answered quickly and then inhaled, clarifying, “Anyway, that’s not what we want to do here. If we take control of the city and hold it for ransom, we can work out a deal to replace the crooked government with some of our people. I’m offering you a role alongside my people. You’re smart, all that evidence you collected against Crane- none of the senior officers could have held a match to it. We destroyed it of course, as soon as Crane told us about your little visit.” She looked past Al Ghul to Crane who leaned against the wall calmly. Had they destroyed the copies? How could she be sure that they were telling the truth? “The box of evidence you had put aside for Sgt. Gordon was the hardest to find but we found it. What made you suspect Dr. Crane? Was it a gut instinct?” He drew on before she interrupted him. 

“You want me to help you kill people?” She furrowed her brow and nearly laughed in disbelief. 

“We want your help to save Gotham from itself and establish a new and better government.” He corrected, fixing his posture. Crane watched her closely and spoke up from the back of the room. 

“She’ll do it,” he answered and she opened her mouth to interject but his smirk silenced her. “She’ll do it because whether or not she wants to admit it, Miss —, is like us.” Crane reached into his breast pocket and removed his glasses. He cleaned the panels with a dish towel and pushed them onto his nose. She looked between Crane and Al Ghul, her heart beating quickly in her chest. 

“Will you join us, will you help us save Gotham?” Ra’s Al Ghul placed both of his hands on top of his walking stick and shifted his weight evenly between his feet. Crane folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head to the side, a knowing smile played on his wide pink lips. Her decision surprised her but the serum had already changed her chemistry, Crane had revealed her true self to herself and there was only one choice left. 

“Yes,” she whispered. 

Crane nodded, “good girl.” 

iii 

She was released from her restraints and she rubbed her wrists where the leather marked them. Ra’s Al Ghul snapped his fingers and a map was rolled out on Crane’s dining room table. The map was of the entire city of Gotham, showing the sewer and water lines. They explained the plan, showing her where the micro-wave emitter would be placed in the city and how it would be moved through each neighborhood. 

“What about the police?” She asked and gestured to the map of the city. Crane laughed and shook his head. 

“You were the only cop that suspected this, the rest will have no idea until it's already started. The person we really need to worry about is Batman,” he ran his fingers through his hair and glanced up at Al Ghul, “luckily for him, an old friend is coming by to visit.” Al Ghul nodded and smiled kindly at her. 

“Batman and I go way back. I’ll take care of him.” 

“What am I supposed to do?” She asked, her arms crossed beneath her breasts. Crane caught himself staring and cleared his throat. 

“You’ll help me with the production of the powder, ensuring that your cop friends don’t figure out too much and keeping Sgt. Gordon away from Arkham or leading him astray… anything,” Crane answered, setting his face as he spoke. She nodded. 

Though they had asked her to join their efforts, they also obviously didn’t trust her completely. They wouldn’t tell her everything, she knew. Her night had gone in a completely different direction than how she had imagined it. Everything had changed after the fear serum, it had shown her that what she feared most had already happened. The police were corrupt, run by small-time gangsters and criminals and crime continued to run rampant as the state lost more and more money, forcing social service organizations to close and more families out on the streets. This whole time she thought that the police could solve the problem but they only caused it. Crane was right, she was like him and she would do anything she could to change the city. After the meeting, Crane poured her a drink and dissolved a packet of powder into the liquor. He stirred it in front of her and Al Ghul before sliding it across the table’s surface. 

“This will put you to sleep for a few hours, twelve at most. It’s only a precaution to make sure that you have truly promised your allegiance to us. Everything that you say will be monitored from this point on.”

“Everything?” She looked at Crane who clenched his jaw, a faint tease of blush spread on his cheeks.

“Everything. Do as we say and follow our rules and you stay alive,” Crane finished and tapped the rim of the glass. “Now drink.” 

“How do I know that you aren’t just poisoning me?” She asked the men around her.

“We’re learning to trust each other, but you have to go first.” He smiled and when Al Ghul said nothing, she took the glass and drank it slowly. The last thing she saw were Crane’s eyes, set perfectly on her. 

She was conscious enough to set her glass down before falling back onto the couch. Crane approached her quickly and checked her pulse, monitoring her reaction to the drug. 

“Did it work?” Ra’s Al Ghul asked behind him and he nodded. 

“Yes, she’s out. Because of all the drugs in her system already, this one may take longer to wear off.” 

“All the other drugs?” Al Ghul raised his eyebrow and Crane chuckled. 

“I couldn’t help myself and besides,” he turned to Al Ghul, “you wanted her alive.” 

“I’m not convinced that we can trust her,” Al Ghul shook his head and pointed at the map for his men to clean up. 

“Oh, I’ll make sure we can.” 

“With your mind tricks?” Al Ghul teased and Crane sighed, rolling his beautiful eyes. 

“Don’t insult me, Ra’s. I know what I’m doing.” He warned the man calmly and nodded to the men. Two men helped carry her body as Crane led them back down the elevator into the lobby which was deserted at that time in the early morning. They climbed into Crane’s waiting car and pulled away from the curb. The girl’s body was limp against the seat and Crane resisted the urge to stare at her, fascinated by her sleeping body. The men carried her up to her apartment on the third floor of a small walkup. Crane rummaged through her coat pockets for the key into her apartment and unlocked the door. 

Her apartment was small and cozy, furnished with minimal couches and chairs. Books and art decorated the walls. Crane pushed through the door and directed the men to lie her down in her bedroom, the small room off of the main living area. They men looked back at him expectantly as he stood by the doorway, watching her sleep. He rolled his eyes and shooed them away. What did they think he was going to do? He’d already fucked her. Alone in her apartment, he stood by her bed and stroked her cheek. She slept on, engulfed by unconscious darkness. He leaned over her slowly and grasped her throat gently, exhaling across her face. He said nothing but looked her up and down and smirked, pleased at the sight of her. He’d won another spoil: her. 

 She woke up in her bed, twisted in the sheets as if she had been restless all night. She was sweaty and hot, the air stuffy around her. Crane and Al Ghul were nowhere to be seen. She checked her watch and hurried out of bed, stripping off her clothes from the night before and into black trousers and a dark blue sweater. She stumbled into the living room and wound her hair up into a claw clip, moving towards the door when a voice startled her. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dr. Crane spoke from the couch. He was in a fresh suit and looked well-rested. He was taking notes in a file on Falcone, his briefcase sat on the coffee table in front of him. She jumped, gasping from shock. 

“Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?” 

“I was waiting for you to wake up. We have work to do today. That bitch at the DA’s office wants to speak with me. I'm supposed to meet with her this afternoon. She’s questioning Falcone’s transfer.”

“I ordered the transfer after you did Falcone’s interview, maybe I could meet with her instead.” 

“No, I need you to take this file to the judge on Falcone’s case. I can handle her questions.” He stood and held out Falcone’s file. “I already gave my statement at the hearing but this file will confirm my medical opinion, hopefully that will get her off my back.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Do you think Falcone will talk if she speaks with him?” 

“Possibly,” he bent his head side to side and shrugged, “but we aren’t going to find out. Let’s go,” he snapped his briefcase closed and made for the front door. She glanced from the couch to her bedroom.

“Were you watching me all night?” She flushed angrily and followed him. He closed the door suddenly and spun her around, forcing her back against the front door. 

“I can only say this once because they aren’t listening now but as soon as we get in the car, they’ll be monitoring you. I am keeping you alive, Miss —. I will do everything in my power to keep you alive but the second you step away from me, you’re on your own. I know we have an understanding so believe me when I say that I would prefer very much if you didn’t die. Follow my directions because they’re following you.” He said in a harsh whisper, a strand of hair falling into his face. They stared at each other in silence, exchanging breath when he kissed her harshly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and moaned softly against his lips. He bucked into her hips and she gasped softly against his jaw. And just as quickly, he pulled away, breathing heavily and led her out the door and down the stairs into the waiting car. 

“I’ll need my gun back,” she pointed out as they settled on the backseat. Crane sighed, unbuttoning his suit jacket. He opened a small compartment in the car door and retrieved her gun. As he held it out, he took her jaw in his other hand, his thumb pressing into her fleshy cheek. 

“This is where that trust would come in handy, detective.” He whispered darkly. She looked at his lips and then up to his eyes, speechless around him. He watched her struggle for words and chuckled, handing her the gun. “Be careful, Y/N, and remember Ra’s plan.” He looked at her lips and sniffed, slapping the roof of the car. “This is her stop.” 

iv 

She met with the judge who oversaw Falcone’s case and gave him the thick folder. He looked at it briefly before recognizing the information. 

“I appreciate you coming out to speak to me about Falcone’s transfer to Arkham but I cleared everything with Ms. Dawes yesterday. She’s already scheduled a second psychiatrist to meet with Falcone first thing tomorrow morning. She mentioned that she’s also requested Dr. Crane’s case file. Has she seen this?” He waved the folder and she clicked her tongue, shocked that she had scheduled a second opinion and that Crane didn’t know about it.

“I’m not sure, sir. I was the detective working with the prosecution and I was the one who oversaw Dr. Crane’s examination and request for transfer. I can attest to Falcone's mood at the time as well. He screamed nonstop as Crane was trying to conduct a test of sanity. Anyway, I wanted to make sure that you saw Dr. Crane’s diagnosis in the aftermath of his transfer. This has updated notes that Dr. Crane shared with me. It might be useful in your deliberation.” She smiled and the judge looked down his nose at the folder. 

“Good point. Thank you, detective. This is helpful.” He opened the folder on his desk and put on his rounded spectacles. 

“Well now that we’ve spoken, I’ll try to catch Dawes and save her the trouble.” She pushed back her chair and brushed off her trousers. 

“Miss —?” The judge called from his desk. 

“Yes, sir?” She looked back.

“Dr. Crane has committed many of Falcone’s men to Arkham in the past few months, is that correct?” 

“Yes,” she nodded and her heart raced. 

“That must be a pretty crazy group.” The judge laughed and went back to the folder, completely missing the pattern. She sighed in relief and left quickly. She started to walk to Arkham, moving so quickly she felt like she may have been running. Dawes had already scheduled a second opinion, meaning that she was probably at Arkham pressuring Crane for his detailed diagnosis. It would take Dawes one second to figure it out so she hoped she could get there quickly enough to do something. She had no plan which she knew was stupid but whatever was bound to happen in the next few hours would be bad and she needed to help Crane. Her phone began to ring and she put it to her ear. 

“Hello?”

“Y/N.”

“Ra’s?”

“Are you on your way to Arkham?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Turn around and go back to your precinct. I want you to stick close to Sgt. Gordon, go where he goes. You’re his top detective so run with it. If anything happens at Arkham, he’ll be there and I want you there with him. Crane will be fine.”

She slowed to a stop, skeptical but wanting to believe what her new boss was telling her, “ok, sir.”

After a second of silence, Ra’s added, “It’s Batman’s birthday and what better way to celebrate a playboy than with chaos?” The call ended before she could respond. 

She spun around and headed straight for the precinct. She spotted Gordon at his desk, working on paperwork. She hurried over and knocked on the door, letting herself in when he waved. 

“Good, I’m glad to see you. I need to run some ideas by you for the Falcone case.” 

“I just dropped off Crane's diagnosis for the judge but he said that Dawes may be seeking a second opinion.” 

“About that -” The intercom went off with a loud screech. 

“Attention all units! Attention all units! Batman was spotted at Arkham Asylum. He is believed to be armed and dangerous. Backup is requested at this time.” The voice repeated with a robotic drone. Sgt. Gordon looked from the speaker to her and grabbed his coat from his chair. 

“We need to get to the asylum right now.” Gordon yelled and she followed him closely, checking that her gun was still secured to her hip. She clipped her badge to her front pocket and pretended to sound confused. 

“Why are we going, Sgt? Do you think this is about Falcone?”

“It might, I’d feel better if I was there to find out; and if Batman is there, someone’s in trouble.” They hurried down the stairs and climbed into a car. Gordon sped away from the precinct and ran red lights. The tires bled across the roads as they came to a screeching halt behind a row of police cars parked outside the Asylum. 

“Why is everyone waiting outside?” She yelled over the noise. An officer standing with his gun aimed at the building yelled back. 

“We’re waiting for backup!”

“They’ll be here soon, sir. We should wait!” She yelled over the noise at the Sgt. 

Gordon looked up at the building and pulled his gun from his holster. He started moving towards the building, looking back to wave her on. 

“I’m going in. You coming?” He called. 

She groaned anxiously beneath her breath before responding, “yes, sir!” They raced up the stairs into the lobby which was left completely vacant. Gordon held up his gun and she followed suit, staying close behind him. She felt the urge to kill him now and find Crane but her gut warned her that someone else was in the room, watching. They walked slowly through the main corridor, past the abandoned security checkpoint, creeping closer to the wide atrium. When they stepped beneath the enormous domed ceiling a loud noise broke through the top of the building. She looked up and covered her face with her forearm to protect her eyes from large shards of falling glass. She saw a large dark blur surround Sgt. Gordon and pull him up to the roof. 

“Sgt. Gordon!” She yelled after him. She knew immediately that the blur was that bastard Batman. A small laugh escaped her mouth as she shook her head and lowered her gun. A group of SWAT ran in seconds later. She pointed at the ceiling with her gun and called them over. 

“He came down and took Sgt. Gordon!”

“Who?” Someone yelled at her and she shook her head, pretending to be unsure. 

“I don’t know! I think it was Batman.” She yelled, adding to their panic. 

“Batman!” Someone shouted and in the moment of distraction, she slipped away into a side corridor. She bolted towards a staircase and stopped at every floor, looking for signs of activity. Her body burned with soreness as she sprinted down each corridor. She wanted to scream his name but her lungs wouldn’t allow her the extra air to do so. She rounded a corner and ran into a group of police. They all started shouting at her until she showed them her badge. 

“I’m a detective- What the hell is going on here?” She yelled. 

“We’re looking for Dr. Crane!”

“Have you seen Sgt. Gordon?” She asked, panting and trying not to panic when they mentioned Crane’s name. “He disappeared and I've been looking for him.”

“No, we haven’t. We got a call that they found drugs in the building and then Batman showed up. Crane was running the operation.” One police officer responded and jerked their head to the side where they were going to run next. “It's down this corridor!”  

“I’ll come with you,” she shouted and led the unit, her gun pointed at the ground. Two large doors were falling off their hinges further down the hallway. The room itself was smokey and gaseous. She looked down from the doorway where there were stairs leading into a cement lined room like an empty indoor pool. Tables were littered with Crane’s fear serum and men that she assumed were dead. Huge vats of liquid marked with a toxic symbol sat on their sides by an open waterline. 

“This is it,” she said to the officer beside her and started to descend the staircase. The smoke made it hard to see so she moved slowly, looking around the floor for Crane’s familiar face. The men she saw were all part of Falcone’s posse who had been hired to help the drug operation run. Something snapped beneath her food and she looked down, seeing Crane’s scarecrow mask which she recognized from his drawing. She picked it up and looked around anxiously, her fingers around the gun shook. Then she saw him. Crane was propped up against a wall and bleeding slightly from the head, a thin trail of blood oozed on the wall behind his head. He was panting and flailing around, his pupils were mere penpoints. He’d been attacked with his own fear powder. She looked around before dropping into a crouch beside him. He recognized her but continued to shake, his eyes darting around her head. 

“Jonathan,” she whispered, “it's me.” 

“Did you find him?” Someone shouted and she yelled back that she had. He raised a judgemental eyebrow, his mouth forming a cuss word. His glasses were gone. 

“Trust me, Crane.” She whispered against his ear and held his wrists together. She took her handcuffs from her belt and handcuffed him. 

v 

She leaned against the wall and tapped her foot anxiously as they strapped him into a white straightjacket. She crossed the room and helped the officer secure the last belt, thankful for any excuse to touch him and remind him that she was still there. Looking up at her, he spat and she flinched slightly. His light eyes were ringed with red swollen skin and she wondered if he really felt betrayed by her. She wiped his spit from her cheek and returned to her place by the wall. 

“So this is the scarecrow,” Sgt. Gordon entered the room and let the door slam shut. Crane jumped from the noise and closed his eyes, taking a deep shaky breath. 

“Scarecrow… scarecrow.” Crane whispered with his eyes closed and shifted within the straightjacket. Sgt. Gordon pulled up a chair, the metal scraping against the floor, bristling Crane into opening his eyes. 

“What was the plan, Crane? How were you going to get the toxin into the air?” Gordon asked calmly and fingered the scarecrow mask. Her stomach turned watching Crane struggle to regain control over his mind. He shook and his eyes darted around the room, landing once or twice on her. She kept a straight face, giving no sign that she was terrified that something would happen to him or she would accidentally reveal something about him that they didn’t already know. When Crane didn’t respond, Gordon continued, his voice rising. 

“Who were you working for?” Gordon pressed and Crane’s eyes snapped to his, a crazy smile pulling at his lips. 

“Oh, it’s too late. You can’t stop it now.” He spoke through shivers, cutting up his words. He smiled at the end and Gordon shook his head. He stood and shoved the mask into her hands. 

“Here. Stay with Crane.” He growled and left the room, his footsteps echoing through the heavy steel door. She looked down at the mask in her hands and hid her smile. There was only one officer left in the room with them and she bit the inside of her cheek, trying to come up with a quick plan. 

“Are there any officers outside?” She asked the cop by the door who peeked his head outside the door. 

“No, ma’am.” 

“Good,” she smiled and raised her gun when the door snapped behind him. “Then this should be easy.” She cocked the gun and cornered the officer. “Face the wall,” she ordered and when he turned, she hit him over the head with the butt of her pistol, knocking him unconscious. She quickly handcuffed him and checked outside one last time before running over to Crane. He was still recovering from the toxin, his face set in a deep frown. She began to free him from his restraints, glancing at the door every few seconds. His eyes stayed on her face and he kept muttering things below his breath. When she undid the last restraint he jumped up and it fell from around his shoulders to the floor. She started to smile when he lunged at her and pushed her up against the tiled wall. Her hair clip cracked against the tile and clattered to the floor in pieces. She gasped beneath his hands, one holding her throat and the other grabbing the slack in her sweater, exposing her navel. 

“You betrayed me,” he growled, “you told Gordon... I saw you.” His eyes were wild and glazed, he looked right through her.

“What?” she gasped out though his hand was crushing her windpipe. 

“I saw you two! You fucked him. You fucked him!” He yelled, his body shook with anger like he was coming down from an adrenaline high. 

“No, I didn’t!” She struggled beneath his hands, “this is the toxin talking, Jonathan! I didn’t betray you-”

“But you fucked him,” his voice twisted into a heatbreaking whine, an image flicked before his eyes and he closed them quickly, shaking it from his head.

“No!” She coughed and she could feel herself getting light-headed. 

“You love him,” his voice was breaking beneath him and his eyes darted between hers as the toxin showed him more and more; everything of which included her.

“Jonathan!” she screamed and hit his chest hard with closed fists, “I can’t fucking breathe!” 

His eyes snapped open wider and he released his grip around her throat. Her feet landed on the ground and she coughed, sinking into a crouch against the wall. Crane stepped back and watched her silently. He was still shaking as he ran a hand anxiously through his hair. 

“Why would I save you if I loved him?” She cried in frustration, rubbing her bruised throat. “It’s the toxin, Jonathan… I didn’t do the things you think I did,” her voice softened. She looked up at him and stood slowly, grabbing onto the wall for support. Crane cradled his head in his hands and whimpered. 

“What do you see?” she asked quietly and stepped closer. He shook his head and created more distance between them. “Jonathan, tell me.” She pressed and he exhaled with a soft shutter.

“You… fuck,” he started through heavy breaths, working himself up again. “I see you and Gordon…” He rubbed his eyes and looked back up at her. “It’s been so long since…”

“Since what?” She furrowed her brow, questioning. His eyes darted away into the corner and he shook.

“Since my father last used it…” he took a deep breath and finished his sentence with a lengthy exhale, “on me.” 

“The fear toxin?” She whispered, slowly starting to understand what he was suggesting. He nodded and flinched as if something had attacked him. Was he saying that his father used a prototype of the fear toxin on him? She grabbed onto the sleeve of his suit jacket and tugged his attention away. 

“It’s just me. There’s no one else- nothing else in here except for me,” she gestured to the nearly empty room (the officer was still unconscious in the corner). “And I’m here for you,” she whispered and closed the distance between them, her hands slipped around his small waist beneath his suit jacket. She felt his body tense beneath her embrace before slowly (very slowly) releasing its tension. He didn’t hug her back but rested his forehead on her shoulder. She stroked his hair, and found the shallow wound on the back of his head. She ducked her head as she pulled away, finding his mouth and kissing him gently. The toxin was slowly wearing off and she could tell he was only beginning to return to his normal self. 

“We need to get up to my office,” he muttered and looked at the door. “They’re releasing the patients.”

“What?” She furrowed her brow. Crane sighed and shook his head. 

“Ra’s gave orders to open all of the cells. The patients will be let loose into the city.” He licked his lips and looked down at her. “We need to get upstairs.” His expression was tense as she could tell he was trying to fight the lingering effects of the toxin. She nodded. 

“Show me where to go.” 

He pulled her through the door and they ran down the corridor to an elevator. When the doors opened, Crane used his key to override the system, preventing anyone else from calling the elevator. He pressed the button for the floor with his office, not realizing that his other hand was squeezing tightly around hers. When the doors opened again, they rushed down the hallway and into Crane’s office. He sighed when the door was locked and the blinds closed. 

“What are we going to do?” She asked him quietly and he inhaled slowly. 

“I need to inject you with the antidote so the toxin doesn’t affect you when we leave the building.” He murmured, more to himself.

“We’re going out there?” She tried to keep the fear from her voice but he detected it instantly, raising an eyebrow. 

“Are you scared?” He asked automatically. 

“Of both of us dying out there at the hands of one of your old patients, yes, yes I am.” She nearly laughed. 

“Don’t you want to be part of the fun?” The Jonathan Crane she knew was definitely coming back. 

“I’d rather not become the ‘fun’,” she quipped and he smirked. 

“As you wish.” 

She followed him into his lab and he rummaged through a collection of vials arranged on one of the counters. Finding the right one, he slipped it inside a cartridge of what looked like an epipen. 

“Pull down your pants,” he ordered and then it was her turn to raise her eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that and do what I tell you,” he said sternly and she did as he asked, pulling down her trousers where he had access to her thigh. “This will hurt,” he warned her before immediately plunging the needle into the fat around her thigh. She hissed in pain and heaved out a breath. 

“The good news is that you don’t have to ever do this again,” he patted her leg and buttoned her pants for her. “Now me,” he changed the vial and unbuckled his pants. He raised the hem of his boxers and punctured the needle into his upper thigh. He grunted in pain and closed his eyes for a moment and whistled out a tight breath. A large explosion shook the ground below their feet. She jumped and winced as she landed on her sore leg. Without opening his eyes, Crane nodded. 

“And that would be the patients leaving the building now.” He withdrew the needle and tossed it to the side, buckling his pants. 

“Let me see your head,” she touched his arm and he leaned forward slightly, turning his head where she could see it clearly. She carded her fingers through his dark hair and parted the dark roots away from the shallow wound. “It's a small cut, you’ll live.” 

“Thanks, doctor.” He smirked. Her fingers shifted through his hair as he straightened and she tried not to look disappointed when they were no longer twirled around his black locks. 

“Are you back now?” She looked up into his eyes, looking for trances of fear. 

“I think so,” he responded and traced his index finger around the collar of her sweater. There were small bruises where his fingers had been when he forced her against the wall in his state of panic. “Was I terrible?” He whispered. 

“Not more than usual,” she laughed lightly and covered his hand with hers. “I’m ok.” She insisted and he furrowed his eyebrows and licked his lips. 

He was going to apologize, he was going to tell her how much he loved her and that was why he had reacted so strongly to the toxin, but the words died on his lips so instead he said, “We should leave before the city goes all the way under.”

“They’ll raise the bridges so no one can leave, it’s too late.” 

Crane chuckled and leaned against the lab table behind him, his fingers grasping around the edge. “And once again, you severely underestimate me. Come on.” 

vi 

“Get on,” Crane held the bridle and gestured for her to mount the large black steed. 

“You’re kidding right?” She looked around at the burning city and then back to the police horse who’d lost its rider. 

“I wish I was,” he sighed and tugged her closer by her waistband, “now giddy-up, Miss —.” He joked flatley and pushed her up onto the saddle. He hoisted himself up after her and sat in front, taking the reins in his hands. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed her thighs around the horse's stomach, holding on for dear life. 

“Where the hell did you learn to ride a horse?” She yelled over the panic and she felt him chuckle. 

“Oh, there are a lot of things that you don’t know about me, detective.” He smirked and kicked the horse into action. She gasped and held him tighter as they flew through the violence-strewn streets. She couldn’t imagine how ridiculous they looked to the people of Gotham but under the influence of the fear toxin, she hoped people were more afraid than amused seeing a man in a full suit riding a horse. Crane focused on the route ahead, navigating them through the broken city. 

“Where’s Ra’s?” She yelled into his ear. 

“Forget about him.” He growled and urged the horse faster. 

“Why? What happened?” 

“He tricked me. He didn't just want to impose an arguably better government, he wanted to kill everyone and to kill us too. He tipped off Batman and that’s how Batman found me. He didn't need me after the toxin had been released. He kept you away from me, didn’t he?” He called over his shoulder, leaping over a crashed car. 

“Yes, he told me to go to the precinct instead when I tried to warn you about the DA.” 

“He wanted Batman to find me and he assumed that you’d get stuck here after you followed Gordon. Two birds with one stone. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.” He growled and turned the horse onto a side-street and into an alley. 

“Where are we going?” She asked, her grip tightening around Crane as she saw people screaming in the streets. 

“To my father’s house.” 

“How?” His father’s house? After his father had probably done something horrible to him?

“Just hold on,” he warned and flicked the reins again. She closed her eyes, wanting to block out the terror in the streets. While some of it gave her pleasure to see the raw side of humanity express itself, it reminded her of what she had seen as a child- the side of people that came out when they needed to survive. 

They rode to the edge of the city and Crane slowed the horse to a stop beside a tall building that looked abandoned. He hopped off of the horse and helped her down, catching her as she forced herself to slip over the saddle. The building was far enough away from the inner-city that it looked like it hadn’t been touched yet by the chaos, though the toxins had definitely reached it. 

“We need to get to the roof,” he informed her calmly and pointed her to the elevator. 

“Another elevator…” she whispered beneath her breath, knowing it wasn’t the right time to mention how much she hated the idea of going into one when the world around them was ending. Crane pressed the button labeled “20R,” and the elevator began to soar up. The elevator had windows that opened into the city. As the elevator climbed, they could see the destruction of Gotham and right across the bridge, normalcy.

“Ra’s is moving the micro-wave emitter by the high speed rail. If his plan goes accordingly, the emitter will poison the other side of the city beneath Wayne tower.” He pointed out the tall Wayne building from their vantage point. “I hate Gotham and I hate Batman, but I think I hate Ra’s Al Ghul more.” He sneered distastefully. “We could have run Gotham…” he sighed and shrugged, “maybe another day.” 

She couldn’t help herself but laugh. Being with Crane had opened her eyes to a new side of herself, one that was dark and masochistic. She liked this side better, way better. She liked thinking that one day she could be in charge, force out all of the government officials that were too dumb or sexist to listen to her. She could lead beside Crane… 

When the elevator doors opened a gust of wind met them. The doors opened onto the roof of the huge building. A helicopter stood in the center of a large bull’s eye, its blades running in circles above their heads. Crane’s hair ruffled in the wind and he squinted his eyes against it. Her mouth fell open in shock and Crane chuckled at her reaction. 

“That’s the funny thing about, trust, detective. I don’t believe in it,” he smirked and beckoned her to the helicopter’s doors. 

“You planned this?” She yelled as he gestured her to climb onto the landing gear. 

“Of course,” he smiled, "I always have a backup plan." Her mary janes slipped across the bars as she climbed and Crane supported her back, guiding her back into the body of the machine. He pulled himself inside after her and collapsed in one of the seats. She tried to orient herself, looking around the small helicopter, landing on the pilot. The pilot nodded at Crane, he was wearing a thick mask and goggles to keep the toxin away. 

“Ready doctor?” The pilot called from the front and Crane nodded breathlessly. He looked at her and clenched his jaw, returning to the version of Crane she knew so well. 

“Yes.”

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Let’s play a game…

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

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

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

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

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

Song for a Guilty Sadist- Crywank 🎶

Butch 4 Butch- Rio Romeo 🎵

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

Please read warnings before continuing, thanks <3

i 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ii 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

iii 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

iv 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why didn’t you?” She whispered. 

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

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

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

“I can fix that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

The Ward Pt. 3 | Jonathan Breech x fem!character

Summary: Jonathan Breech is sentenced to three months in a Dublin psych ward after trying to take his life. He meets a girl and thinks he's fallen in love... but is this just a product of opportunity and loneliness or could it be more?

Warnings: Based heavily on One the Edge (2001) so there is already a lot of mental-health specific discussions. More specifically- mentions of suicide, self-harm, death, depression, anxiety, feeling helpless and alone, medication, vomiting, pregnancy. Pt. 3 has smut: unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), and loss of virginity. Please don't read if you think any of the previously mentioned topics could be triggering! Some of this is taken from my personal experience with mental-health issues so read with care.

word count: 3790k

Pretty- Coco & Clair Clair 🎶

Narc- Interpol 🎵

Note- One the Edge is free on Internet Archive...

Please read the warnings before continuing, thanks!

After group therapy, Jonathan walked into the men’s bathroom on the women’s ward and stood just inside as the door swung closed quietly. Margaret was sitting on the ledge as she had a day or two before, reading. She looked up as he entered and closed her book. 

“Was I really your first real kiss?” He asked and she scoffed in surprise. 

“What?” 

“Was I really your first kiss?” He asked again and Margaret stared at him before answering, a blush already forming on her cheeks. 

“Yeah…”

“How was it?”

“You were there, remember?” She put her book aside and put her palms against her face to cool them. She looked at the wall, too embarrassed to look at him. 

“Pretend I wasn’t.” He smiled and she rolled her eyes, “tell me how it was.”

“It was good, I don’t know.” She laughed uncomfortably and he smiled wider.

“Tell me how you felt when you kissed me,” he prompted and she shook her head in uncomfortable disbelief. 

“Well, um I felt happy and good like I didn’t want to stop. I liked looking at you and I liked feeling close to you.” She answered. “Is that what you meant?” She furrowed her eyebrows and Jonathan nodded. 

“You liked kissing me and I liked kissing you. I don’t think this is just a relationship of convenience, I think we could really like each other.” 

“Here we go,” she jumped off of the ledge and landed beside Jonathan who had one hand resting against the handicapped stall. 

“Just hear me out! I thought about what you said and I think I really do like you. I like talking to you and I think we understand each other really well.” He explained and she laughed softly. 

“We both tried to kill ourselves, of course we understand each other.” 

“But see, that's the thing. We understand each other better than other people would. You said that there are plenty of attractive girls out there but what makes you so sure that I would choose anyone else if I could choose you?” He waved his other hand as he spoke. She had started to walk away when she turned back and went up to him, talking low.

“Because even though we kissed and we may like each other, we don’t know each other at all. I’m some girl from America who happened to take too many pills to kill herself and it didn’t work. In any other situation, you would have walked past me on the street and gone for someone else.” She started to get upset and he looked down at her from against the wall. “I’m not interesting or beautiful or that smart, I’m just depressed and lonely and that makes me easy to love when you have nothing else to do.” Jonathan inhaled quickly. 

“I don’t agree with you at all. I think you’re interesting and so beautiful that it distracts me during group therapy. Even though I’ve only been here for about a week, I feel that I have a pretty good idea of who you are and what you mean to me and my happiness, and you mean a lot.”

“But what if I can’t make you happy?” She interjected, angry tears filling her eyes. “Not everything can be solved by sex and love, Jonathan. We’re unstable and could kill ourselves at any time. You can’t trust me and I don’t trust you,” she whispered and started to turn when he reached for her. 

“Margaret, I love you.” 

“Don’t say that when you don’t mean it!” She nearly screamed, hitting his chest with her hands. She started crying as she hit him weakly. He watched her, his jaw clenched. “Don’t call me cute or beautiful or anything else when you don’t fucking mean it!” She cried and pushed herself away from him. Her nose was runny and she wiped it on the sleeve of her green jumper. Her hair was messy and some of it stood up. She took a deep breath and looked back at him, caught in the beauty of his eyes. “We lie all the time. We lie about how we feel and about how sad we are so that others feel better about themselves. We can’t lie to each other, not here. So, don’t lie to me, please. I’m sick of lies, Jonathan.” She whispered sadly and Jonathan closed the distance between them and held her. She didn’t resist and hugged him around his waist, putting her face in the crook of his neck. He kissed the top of her head and smoothed down her messy hair. She cried quietly against him and he waited patiently, holding her closer. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against her cheek, “I won’t lie to you, I promise. I’m so sorry.” He promised, though he hadn’t been lying. “I shouldn’t have sprung that all on you but I wasn’t lying, Margaret. What I said was true. I won’t force you to believe me but I promise that I was telling you the truth.” 

She stopped crying slowly and took in a shakily breath. He rubbed her back, feeling the warmth of her body through her clothes. 

“What if I don’t feel the same way? What if I hate you?” She whispered and Jonathan looked up at the ceiling tiles. He knew that it was a possibility and he was prepared to accept it. He put his chin on top of her head and exhaled slowly. 

“Do you?” he asked, “Do you hate me?” 

Margaret thought for a moment and shook her head against his chest, “no.” Jonathan sighed in relief and pulled her even closer, kissing her head. She gripped his shirt gently in her hands, her fists clenched against his back. After a few minutes she pulled away and went to the sink where she splashed cold water on her face. She rubbed cold water over the back of her neck and took a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall, wiping the water away. He watched her with a sense of wanting, wishing that he could touch her face how she was now. He crossed his arms over his chest and rested on one hip, jutting the other out. He sucked on his bottom lip and leaned his head back against the yellow tile of the outdated bathroom. He built up the nerve and left the wall, standing beside her at the sink. He took the paper towel from her hands and wiped the skin beneath her jaw and below her collar. He kissed each place after he wiped it and she closed her eyes, breathing softly through her parted lips. Then he kissed her and she brought her hands to his neck, tracing the lines of tendons in his neck. He pulled away and threw the paper towel into the trash. 

“You’ll be ok?” He asked and she smiled softly from the sink. 

“Yeah. You?” She asked and he nodded. 

“Yeah,” he smiled back and left the bathroom. He smiled to himself as he went back to his room. He sat on his bed as the sun set, his hands clasped around the back of his neck. He sat like that for what felt like hours. He rubbed his eyes and kicked off his shoes, realizing how long he had been sitting there, staring at the floor. The razor, still lying by the wall, caught his eye. Jonathan crossed the room and grabbed it from the floor. He twirled it in his fingers again and studied the sharp edge. The release of pain was always nice but he hated the way the blade had felt, stinging as it would slice through him. He put the blade back into his carton of cigarettes and pushed the box further away on the table so that he wouldn’t see it. The sun had completely set by now and he stood at the window. The bars blurred in his vision so he could only see the garden outside. He thought about Toby and how they had escaped over the wall for the night, and how he had come back to Margaret waiting for him in his room. The thought of her prickled his skin and jumped his heart. Why couldn’t they find comfort in pain, especially when it was in each other? Maybe this wasn’t just a momentary salve, what if there was a reason why they were both here together? Life was never ensured and he was young and wanted everything out of life while he could still bear being alive. The analog clock on the wall read midnight and he sighed quietly, trying to make himself tired. Time changed shapes when he was depressed, it slipped by quicker than he could understand or it slowed down to a painful trickle. The corridors were quiet outside and the night nurses retired to the office, listening out for the sound of harm. Jonathan’s door clicked open and he jerked around, expecting to see a nurse. 

Margaret closed the door quietly behind her and looked at him, a shy smile coming to her lips. His silhouette blocked the light from coming in through the window but she could still make out his sharp face in the shadow. She walked up to him and kissed him softly, her hands finding the angular shapes in his face. His lips were slightly chapped and he licked them when she pulled away for breath. 

“You’re here,” he whispered and she nodded. 

“You were right. I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he put his hands around her hips and ran his thumbs up and down. Her white nightgown glowed in whatever light still managed to shine through the small window. Like before, he could see the shape of her body below the clothes and he shivered. She wore no shoes so she stood on the balls of her feet to kiss him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He leaned into her and supported her hips as she balanced. She took a step back and panted slightly, he watched her, his lips pink from kissing. She took the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head and dropped it ungracefully to the floor. Jonathan stared at her as his heart quickened further. He thought he knew what was happening but he wanted her to lead him, he wanted her to be in control as it started, so he waited until she went back to him and unbuttoned his cardigan. He kept his arms by his sides and let her push the cardigan off his shoulders and down his arms. She studied his body as she undressed it slowly. She unbuttoned his top, the one that was still too short on his arms, and paused when his chest was exposed. With her shaky fingers, she traced the line of his sternum down to his navel. His stomach flinched below her cold touch and he smiled as he watched her, her lips held open in awe. She took off his shirt slowly and kissed his collarbones up to his shoulders. He yearned to undress her immediately but he waited for her to explore him completely at her own pace. 

Margaret looked up at his eyes that looked royal blue in the dark and hooked her fingers around the waistband of his pants. He nodded and she pulled down his pants, so he stood with only his boxers and socks on. She stepped back once again and looked at him. His chest was hairless and smooth, there was some scarring from old acne at the base of his neck. He had long lanky legs and longer dark hair that swept naturally to either side of his face. He was beautiful, she thought to herself. He could tell that she was giving him his turn, waiting for him to touch her as she had touched him. He approached her slowly and started by tucking her hair behind her ear. She closed her head and leaned into his gentle touch, he smiled. Jonathan ran his index fingers down either side of her chest to her navel and bunched the fabric of her nightgown into his hands. Then he moved his fingers to the cuffs of her sleeves and played with the small eyelets of lace decorating each one. He smiled down at her and when she opened her eyes, she smiled back. 

“Are you ready?” He asked her quietly and she nodded.

“Yes.”

Jonathan returned his hands to the fabric around her navel and pulled the dress up and over her head. Her hair fell back against her shoulders when the gown left her head. He put the dress aside and looked down at her bare chest. He didn't expect her breasts to be bare below the gown and the sight of them made him blush. His hands rushed to touch them but he managed to slow down his movements, touching her ribs first before sliding his dry hands over her chest. She exhaled shakily as he cupped and squeezed her breasts in his hands. It was like he was seeing a girl naked for the first time, though he was not a virgin by any means. He knew she was, he could tell without her having to say the words. So these moments were important to her and he wanted to honor that. He moved his hands up to the base of her neck and he kissed her. He lowered himself slowly to the ground, to his knees, and looked up at her. She looked down at him with a mix of fear and anticipation. He smirked reassuringly and kissed the front of her underwear. 

“Can I taste you?” He asked quietly and she drew in a shaky breath before nodding with a small whimper. He slowly pulled down the waistband of her underwear, exposing her cunt, and left the underwear half-way up her thighs. He felt his erection push against his boxers as he placed a second kiss on her cunt and she gasped quietly. His hands held her thighs still as he licked the closed entrance, guarded by a small gathering of hair. He lowered his head farther and ran his tongue up and down her slit. She gasped softly as he did so and her hands found his shoulders which she squeezed. He raised his head and kissed her navel where she had a small freckle. He pulled her underwear down the rest of the way and helped her step out of it. He stood up and cupped her face in his hands. 

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered and she held his wrist, looking up into his blue eyes. 

“Will you fuck me?” She asked him slowly and he smiled. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “yeah.”

She kissed him and breathed deeply through her nose, catching his scent and relaxing against him. Jonathan guided her to his bed and they both crawled onto the mattress and sat on their knees, kissing each other hungrily. She lowered herself back onto the bed, her head at the foot of his bed. He supported himself above her, his arms on either side of her head, careful to avoid her hair as it spread out around her head. He looked at her, startled by exactly how beautiful she really was. He kissed down her chest and held the tops of her thighs in his arms, lowering his head to taste her again. She squirmed as he nibbled at her thighs and traced her labia with his tongue. He sucked and prodded her while she whimpered quietly, her hands still gripped around his shoulders. He hummed against her and she moaned, her hand snapped against her mouth to ensure that she wouldn’t be too loud. He came up for air and smiled. She was arching her back against the mattress, her chest rising and falling with excitement. 

“Are you ready for me?” He asked her and she propped herself up on her elbows. 

“I think so,” she whispered.

“I’ll go slow, ok?” He nodded reassuringly and she smiled nervously. 

“Ok.” 

He slid off his boxers, showing his erection. Margaret looked at him, her brows furrowed in fear. He noticed her expression and cupped her cheek with his hand. 

“Hey, it’ll be ok. You can tell me to stop anytime and we’ll take everything slow.” She smiled softly and nodded again. He spat on his hand and fisted himself slowly, coating his erection with the lubricant. He moved the head of his erection against her and pressed gently at the small opening. “It’ll hurt a little at first. I’ll try to be gentle, tell me to stop if it hurts too much.” He rubbed the side of her thigh and pushed inside her just a little. She exhaled stiffly and he pushed a little farther. 

“Relax, It’ll feel better for you if you do.” He cupped her face and waited for her to relax around him before going all the way in. She gasped sharply when he was inside but as soon as he was, her body opened to accommodate him. The stretch of him inside her was nice and she caught her breath. 

“Ready?” he smiled, his arms propping himself up above her. She nodded enthusiastically and slid her hands up his chest, to his neck. 

“Yes, I’m ready. I’m so ready.” She whispered and he chuckled softly. He thrusted farther before pulling out and doing it again. She learned how to catch and release her breath as he entered her, hitting a spot that made her gasp in pleasure. She didn’t think that penetration could feel so good. Jonathan panted and tried to compose himself as he slid in and out of her tight cunt. He moved slowly above her and shivered in pleasure at the sound of her quiet moans. He dropped his face close to hers and watched each other as they opened their mouths in silent gasps, exchanging hot breath. 

“Faster,” she whispered and put her hands on his lower back, pulling him farther inside her. 

“Fuck,” he gasped weakly and moved his hips quicker, her walls tightened around him as she squeezed her thighs. The bed squeaked quietly beneath them and she laughed quietly, bracing one hand against the wall beside them. 

“Jesus, Jonathan…” she gasped and threw her head back against the mattress, “so good…” was all she managed to get out and he cupped her breast with his free hand. 

“Fuck, fuck,” Jonathan cursed and changed the angle of his thrusts, hitting her G-spot exactly. She gasped loudly and covered her mouth quickly. He covered her hand with his hand and went faster, hitting the spot again and again. He watched her eagerly as her eyes rolled back into her head and she grew wetter around him. He gasped quietly and panted, the muscles in his back flexing and relaxing with each thrust. 

“You’re going to cum,” he panted out and she nodded breathlessly beneath their hands. Her legs wrapped around him and pulled him as far as he could go inside her and he tried to quiet his involuntary whimpers as she kept gripping around him and coercing him deeper and deeper inside. Finally she came and he felt her finish around him. She moaned into her hand and he helped stifle the noise as she finished. He pulled out and kissed her, his hands now pulling the cum from between her legs and coating his still-erect penis. He fisted himself as she kissed him, sucking on his tongue and his lips as she came down from her organsmic high. He was still wet and hot from being inside her and he finished in his hand, shooting his cum onto the cement floor. He broke their kiss and panted heavily above her, his arm now tired from masturbating. 

“Did you finish?” She asked softly and he nodded. “You pulled out,” she observed and Jonathan smiled. 

“You said you were scared of getting pregnant,” he laughed, letting his head fall against her stomach. She smiled, contracting the muscles in her abdomen, and she carded her fingers through his hair. He turned his head to rest his cheek on her bare stomach and looked up at her. She stared straight up at the ceiling and twirled his hair. 

“Was it ok? Did it hurt?” He asked softly and she shook her head. 

“It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. It was really good, Jonathan,” she sat up and he rolled over to rest his head on her thigh. She leaned over him and kissed him. He sat up and ran his hand around her waist, kissing her more. 

“You were so perfect,” he whispered. 

“Is this how it’s supposed to end?” She asked him as he pulled away. He furrowed his brow.

“What do you mean?”

“Do I go back to my room now? I don’t know what people do after sex.” She pulled her hair around her shoulder and braided it nervously. He laughed lightly and shook his head.

“No, no. You can stay here. I want you to stay here…” he trailed off and admired how her body looked in the moonlight after they had fucked. Her face was flushed and her lips were wet from kissing. 

“Ok,” she dropped her hair and nodded slowly, “I'll stay.” 

“Good.” He smiled and reached over the bed for their clothes. He pulled the sweater over her head and rubbed her arms to warm them up. She pulled on her cotton underwear while he put his pants back on. He pulled down the covers for the first time since getting there and they crawled beneath the blankets. They faced each other and Jonathan petted her hair away from her face, absorbed by how soft she was.  

“Your lip’s getting better,” he observed and she smiled. 

“Who would’ve thought,” she joked. They stayed there in silence, Jonathan stroking her hair. Margaret shifted closer to him in bed where it was warmer. “Are you tired?” she asked in a low voice and Jonathan nodded slowly. 

“Yeah, a little.”

“Did it take a lot of energy?” 

“To fuck you?” He smiled. 

“Yeah,” she laughed quietly and he shrugged. 

“Yeah but it was worth it. I like being tired after. I liked making you cum.” He added at the end with a smirk. 

“I liked it too. I like you.” She nestled her head below his and he sighed, wrapping his arms around her. He kissed the top of her head and waited for her to fall asleep before drifting off himself. She smelled like the outside, fresh and clean like rain. The smell washed him away.

----

The end? lmk below if I should continue this series :)

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

The Ward Pt. 2 | Jonathan Breech x fem!character

Summary: Jonathan Breech is sentenced to three months in a Dublin psych ward after trying to take his life. He meets a girl and thinks he's fallen in love... but is this just a product of opportunity and loneliness or could it be more?

Warnings: Based heavily on One the Edge (2001) so there is already a lot of mental-health specific discussions. More specifically- mentions of suicide, self-harm, death, depression, anxiety, feeling helpless and alone, medication, vomiting, pregnancy. There is nothing explicitly sexual in pt. 2, just kissing, so there are no warnings for that here. Please don't read if you think any of the previously mentioned topics could be triggering! Some of this is taken from my personal experience with mental-health issues so read with care.

word count: 4019k

Leif Erikson- Interpol 🎶

Sad girl- Lana del Rey 🎵

Note- One the Edge is free on Internet Archive...

Please read the warnings before continuing, thanks!

He stumbled back to his room, wiping sweat from the back of his neck beneath his normal clothes. He laughed silently as he watched Toby sneak back into his own room before he opened his door. His room was dark and he slipped inside, trying hard not to make any sound as he shut the door slowly. He was only a little tipsy and the run back to the hospital from the bar cleared his head. He’d already caused trouble and forced himself and Toby into a predicament with three large men that involved running all over Dublin for an hour until they could make it back to the hospital. Jonathan’s life was anything but boring to say the least. As he closed the door and turned to take off his jacket the sight of someone sitting on his bed nearly made him lose his balance and fall. He caught himself on the doorframe and clutched his chest. 

“You scared the shit out of me,” he panted. Margaret, having been sitting against the wall on his bed, rolled over. 

“Sorry, sorry! I came in here earlier looking for you and you weren’t here.” 

“So you sat here in the dark for God knows how long?” He laughed painfully and slapped a hand across his forehead.

“It makes me sound perverted when you say it like that,” she got off the bed and wrapped her arms around herself. She silently gave thanks that the room was dark and he couldn’t see the rush of heat to her face from pure mortification. “I just thought you’d be happy to see me. I shouldn’t have assumed…” She avoided his eyes that shone even in the darkness. She tried to step around him to the door but he stopped her, gently putting his hands around her shoulders. His hands were cold and clammy from the run. 

“No, I do want you here… even if you are perverted,” he smiled and she relaxed a little under his hands. 

“Where were you?” She asked him as he took off his jacket and stuffed it in a bag beneath the bed. 

“I snuck out with Toby and we went to a bar.” He sat on the bed with a sigh and leaned his back against the cool wall. He patted the space beside him at the foot of the mattress and she joined him hesitantly. She sat beside him but left some space, still too nervous to get too close to this boy that she really didn’t know. 

“Did you have fun?” She smiled and noticed the way he was still catching his breath from running. 

“Oh yeah. Toby and I got into this brawl and I got a few good punches in before Toby pulled me away and we made a run for it.” 

“Are you lying?” She leaned her head against the wall and turned it to the side to look at him. He smiled cheekily at her and rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, but for the sake of the story, pretend I’m not.” He whispered. 

“Ok,” she nodded, “but how did you get out?”

“Toby found this ladder a while ago and so he puts it against the wall and climbs over it. There were some trash cans on the other side so we just jumped off of them and onto the street. The bar was just a few streets over.” He talked with his hands and she caught herself biting her lip as she watched him. “We’ll all go next time but Toby and I will have to wear disguises because they may recognize us, you’ll be fine.” 

She laughed and covered her mouth so that she wouldn’t be heard down the corridor. Jonathan watched her, interested. The way she laughed when her hand wasn’t there showed the wound on her lip. The scab had basically healed but there was still a deep bruise and the skin around the scab was still slightly swollen. When Margaret stopped laughing he put his thumb gently against the scab and pulled away. 

“How did you get that?” He asked her, his eyes on her lips. She trembled slightly from his touch, her lips still warm where his thumb was. She shrugged.

“I fell,” she whispered. 

“You fell?” He raised an eyebrow that she could still see even in the dark. He was close and she could smell the heat leaking from his skin like pheromones. She laughed lightly and nodded.

“I know it sounds like one of those lame excuses but I fell and busted my lip.” She waved at her lip and looked away, hoping he wouldn’t ask for further explanation. 

“It sounds like there’s a lot more to that story.” He prodded softly and she looked at him, her eyes sad. 

“Well, there’s a reason why each of us are here.” She said softly and watched as he started to understand. “What’s yours?” She asked and he exhaled deeply. 

“I tried to kill myself,” Jonathan answered, his lips pursed. 

“I did too. That’s why we’re all in-patient.” She nodded and looked at the opposite wall. He watched her, following the outline of her nose with his eyes. He imagined reaching out to her and pulling her into his chest, not having to speak but just holding one another. 

“I drove a car off of a cliff,” he finally said and she turned quickly, looking between his eyes. 

“Are you lying?” She asked seriously and he shook his head.

“No.” 

“And you lived.” She looked down at his body and then back up to his pale face. 

“I was wearing a fucking seatbelt,” he pulled at the skin on his face and sighed, “I didn’t break anything except for my pinky finger. The judge gave me four months in here for trying and failing to kill myself. I can’t tell whether he was punishing me for trying or failing to kill myself,” he shrugged, “but it was also someone else’s car so maybe that was it.”

“You stole someone’s car?” She nearly laughed in disbelief and had to clamp a hand across her mouth. 

“Technically it was already stolen, I stole it from the people who stole it in the first place.” He smiled and folded his arms over his chest. 

“You must be lying,” she gasped and he shook his head, smiling.

“No, that’s all completely true.” 

“Jesus…” She fell back against the wall and sighed. Jonathan looked over at her before changing the conversation back to her. 

“So how did you do it?” He asked her gently. She paused and glanced over at him before looking down at her hands. She played with the thick hem of her jumper and sighed. 

“I took all of my medications one night before bed and passed out but before I could die, my body woke itself up and forced me to throw up all of the partially-digested medications that I had swallowed. I don’t remember any of it but my roommate found me on the bathroom floor, face down on the tile. I busted my lip really bad in the fall and I got some bruises and stuff. They think that my body instinctively went into the bathroom where I threw up everything in my stomach and when I stood back up, I lost consciousness and fell face first onto the bathroom floor. I woke up again in the hospital where they had pumped my stomach and tied me down to the bed. Someone from psych talked to me and told me that I was being transferred to the psych ward where they would determine the next best course of treatment. They insisted that I stay here and the college agreed but they never told me for how long. They’ve taken me off my medications for a while so my body can detox I guess. ”

“Does your family know?” He asked and she looked up at the ceiling, tears pooling in her eyes. 

“Yeah… yeah they do. They thought that I was just doing it for attention. They always call me dramatic and shit but they don’t understand that I had no intention to wake up after I took the pills. I didn’t want the attention, I just wanted to die.” She kept her voice even while tears trickled down her cheeks. She wiped them away and sniffed. Jonathan said nothing for a while. 

“I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be alive,” he looked at her and she smiled sadly. “Come here,” he opened his arms and pulled Margaret into them. She kept her hands by her face but she allowed him to swallow her up in his arms which were warm and comforting. She laid against his chest and he smoothed her hair back. Without communicating, they separated and laid down, facing each other on the pillow. She curled her hands beneath her cheek and looked into Jonathan’s eyes. He put one hand on her cheek and wiped away the last of the tears from her face. 

“What about you? Does your family know that you’re here?” She whispered.

“My mom and da are dead but my brother knows. He’s ok, you know? The silly bastard gives a fuck about me when no one else does, so you have to give it to him. He cares.” He smiled.

“I care about you,” Margaret whispered honestly and he smiled, “I think.” She added, smiling and he moved his hands beneath his face. 

“You think? Wow, I’m truly honored.” He teased her and she laughed quietly into the pillow. He licked his lips but broke his eyes away from her’s, not wanting to escalate things. “You know when Dr. Figure asked us about our fears?”

“Yeah,” she nodded.

“What are yours?” 

“Well I’m scared of all the normal things like being alone, being forgotten, the dark…”

“You’re scared of the dark still?” 

“Yeah, it's horrible here because it’s so dark. Dr. Figure got me a nightlight to use when my anxiety gets bad. My brain tricks me into thinking that there are things in my room sometimes, especially when I’m upset about something else or stressed.” 

“And what else?”

“I have a phobia of being pregnant and giving birth for some reason, those are the really weird ones. I have nightmares that I’m pregnant and it’s horrible,” she mimed having a swollen belly and he laughed. 

“What about you?” She asked him and he thought for a moment, humming softly. 

“Besides my overwhelming fear of being pregnant,” he joked and Margaret hit his chest playfully, “I’m scared that I’ll never get better,” Jonathan looked up at Margaret. She looked down at his chest, understanding what he meant and nodding. “...and I’m scared that people like Dr. Figure will give up on me,” he whispered. Margaret flicked her eyes back up to Jonathan’s face and said nothing. 

“I’m scared that one day, if they manage to heal me completely, I won’t be able to feel some of these feelings, the ones that are powerfully sad but make me feel alive- human,” she whispered finally and he watched her as she brushed her hair behind her ear. 

“I’m scared of telling people the truth about how I feel,” Jonathan responded and Margaret smiled sadly. 

“So do I.” 

They smiled sadly at each other and listened to the ticking of the analog clock on the wall. Finally, Margaret shifted closer and raised herself up on her elbows, her hair creating curtains around them. 

“Can I kiss you?” She whispered slowly, her face was hot and she stuttered slightly as she asked. Jonathan smiled and kissed her first. She was nervous and inexperienced so she struggled to follow Jonathan’s rhythm but he made no show of disappointment. Margaret put one hand against Jonathan’s face and opened her mouth as Jonathan started to suck her tongue. She pulled away and blushed further. 

“Are you ok?” Jonathan furrowed his brow. 

“Yeah, I just… I haven’t really kissed anyone like this before. I don’t know what to do.” She looked down, embarrassed and Jonathan chuckled sweetly. 

“It’s ok, you can take the lead. I’ll kiss you back how you kiss me,” he explained slowly and she nodded. She kissed him first this time and placed short kisses against his wide lips. Then she locked her lips against his and allowed herself to kiss him for longer, pulling her lips away only to shift them and kiss him again. He followed her lead and kissed her in the same way which was strictly innocent and naive but it still excited him. She licked his top lip and put her thumbs against his chin, sucking gently on his top lip. Jonathan pulled away for a moment and touched her bottom lip gently.

“Does your lip hurt?”

“No,” she whispered back and he leaned forward again to kiss her. Finally she began to grow more comfortable and tried to french kiss, slipping her tongue into his mouth. They kissed deeper and she breathed breathlessly against him as he pulled her close to his chest. She broke away and kissed down his neck, pulling aside his collar so that she could kiss his shoulder. He sighed against her ear and twirled a piece of her hair between his fingers. When she finally broke away she rested her head on the pillow again and shifted closer to Jonathan. She left her hand on the bed between them and Jonathan took it. He ran his thumb over the top of her hand and traced the small veins. 

“Can I sleep here tonight?” Margaret whispered and Jonathan looked up at her, smirking. 

“Yeah,” he nodded and shifted his head on the pillow, their faces close together. Margaret’s eyes fluttered softly as she started to fall asleep and he watched her, running his thumb against her hand as she slept. 

When he woke up the next morning, she was gone. She’d left his room but not before she kissed his hairline, to go back to the women’s ward before a nurse noticed that she was gone. She hugged herself as she wandered back to her room, smiling and forgetting to breathe. She crawled beneath her own covers and tried to fall back asleep as the sun started to rise through the window. 

…

“I have a pledge that I’d like you to consider, Jonathan,” Dr. Figure slid a piece of paper across the table to Jonathan. 

“You’re calling it a fucking pledge?” Jonathan scoffed and laughed. 

“Everyone else in group therapy has already signed the pledge agreement. It basically says that you will go the next month without hurting yourself in any way, cutting, burning, inflicting pain on purpose…” Dr. Figure explained and Jonathan rubbed his hand over his lips, “A month from now is roughly New Year’s Day, so if you make it till then, you could leave without having to finish your entire sentence.” 

“Do I have a choice?” He shifted against the door jam, refusing to actually sit at Dr. Figure’s desk. 

“Of course you do,” Dr. Figure sighed, “but it doesn’t hurt to try.” 

“Mhm, ok. I’ll sign your fucking pledge,” Jonathan walked up to the desk and took a pen from the pen holder. He signed his name across the dotted line and put the pen back. “Now what happens if I break the pledge? Do you kill me before I can kill myself?” 

“You have to stay the full time and maybe more, depending on how you break the pledge.” 

Jonathan nodded and cocked his head to the side, “pretty solid stuff, doc. Good work.” 

“Thank you, Jonathan.” Dr. Figure answered with a tired sigh. 

“Why do you still work here? You sound exhausted all the time. Obviously you hate working here with kids like us, why do you do it?” Jonathan crossed his arms across his chest and looked down at Dr. Figure. 

“I do it because believe it or not, I care. This is what I was made to do. You may think that I’m exhausted and fed up with you and everyone else but I’m not. I’m not so easily breakable or deterred. You can give me as much of a hard time as you want, Jonathan, but I will help you. In the end, you’re just going to have to let me.” Dr. Figure propped his elbows up on his desk and clasped his hands together. They sat in a heavy silence until Jonathan sniffed. 

“Can I go now?” 

“Sure,” Dr. Figure waved him out and put Jonathan’s pledge into a folder and tucked it away into his desk drawer. Jonathan spun around and left the room, swinging his arms comically as he left the house. 

As he walked back to the main hospital building he passed the bench and sitting there were Margaret and Toby, talking. Toby had a walkman in his hand and was showing it to Margaret who smiled. Her finger held a place in her book which was in the middle. Jonathan shoved his hands into his pockets, and approached them, his footsteps crunching on the brittle grass. 

“Heya guys,” Jonathan shrugged his shoulders in greeting. Toby greeted him back and Margaret blushed, just meeting his eyes with a smile but not saying anything back. 

“Did he make you sign that pledge?” Toby asked and Jonathan laughed. 

“Yep, no violence until New Year’s Day, then we can go all out.” Jonathan joked and perched on the armrest of the bench beside Margaret. “Did you both sign it?” 

“Yeah,” Toby nodded with a shake of his head, “how they’re going to manage it I don’t know.”

“I did too,” Margaret offered softly and looked at Toby as he continued to talk. She looked brighter today, Jonathan noticed. Her eyes were softer and the bags beneath them had recovered. She was wearing her nightgown again with the same dark green jumper and brown socks. She had goosebumps up her round thighs and Jonathan resisted the urge to trail his hands up the flesh there. 

“As long as we don’t try to kill ourselves until New Year’s…” Toby shrugged, “it just can’t be something that they’d notice I guess. They haven’t checked me for signs of harm,” Toby continued and Margaret nodded. 

“I think Dr. Figure trusts us to tell him when we break the pledge. He wants us to develop a sense of trust for him where we would feel comfortable telling him,” Margaret offered and the boys nodded. 

“What happens if we wait until New Year’s Day and then just kill ourselves?” Jonathan joked darkly and Toby laughed. 

“I don’t think Dr. Figure has thought that far ahead,” Toby shrugged and Margaret pulled down the hem of her nightgown and shivered. 

“Are you cold?” Toby asked and Margaret shrugged.

“Not especially, it's not as cold today as it was yesterday. The sun’s out.” She looked up at the sky where the sun was not obscured by clouds. Her face looked golden in the light. 

“I’m going to go inside now,” Toby rubbed his hands together and stood, “I’ve done my outside time. I’ll be in the rec room watching the MASH reruns.” He walked away and the cords of his robe wavered behind him in the wind. Jonathan sat down beside Margaret and watched her. She finally turned toward him and blushed again. 

“Am I allowed to say that you look beautiful?” Jonathan cocked his head and Margaret laughed. She turned back to him and smiled. 

“Sure,” she nodded and Jonathan stuffed his hands beneath his armpits to warm them. 

“You’re beautiful,” he told her. 

“Thank you. I think you’re pretty.” She said softly and Jonathan laughed loudly, surprised. 

“You think I'm pretty?” 

“Yeah, I think you’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen.” She blushed. 

“I can’t tell whether that’s a blow to my masculinity or a compliment.”

“Only men can be pretty and the best ones are always pretty, not “hot,” I don’t like that word. I think the word “pretty” matches you well. I think you’re pretty.” She explained and Jonathan nodded, pretending to think it over. 

“Ok, then I accept it.” They were quiet for a moment before Jonathan started again, “Did you and Toby…” he started and his voice fell always suggestively. She swallowed and shook her head. 

“No, I mean I thought he liked me when we both first got here but… I think Toby’s gay.” She answered him honestly and Jonathan nodded. 

“But you liked him at first too?” 

“Maybe a little,” she glanced at him and smiled, “but he was convenient to like and I had just tried to kill myself. I wanted to feel something… like you.” She pointed out the similarities and Jonathan looked out at the hedges. “You like me because I’m convenient. I’m not very pretty or special, in fact, you were the first person I’ve ever kissed. There are plenty of more attractive girls out there. You picked me because I’m here.” 

Jonathan looked at her, his brows furrowed. He didn’t know what to say so he said nothing. 

“I don’t blame you. It’s why I liked Toby in the beginning but I realized after a while that I didn’t like him in that way, I just thought I did because he was nice to me and happened to be in the same situation. I’m not saying that it isn’t nice to find someone and seek comfort from them while we’re stuck in this fucking place; and I don’t regret last night at all. I just don’t want you to realize in a few weeks that you don’t like me at all and I realize that I like you too much,” she looked at him and her hair shifted over her shoulders. She stood and walked away, leaving him alone on the bench. Jonathan leaned over and rested his elbows on his knees and put his face into his hands. He massaged his eye sockets as he thought about what she had said. 

He spent the day thinking and wandering around the hospital. He sat in the rec room that night and watched Singing in the Rain on the small box tv that was covered in plexiglass. An older woman who sat beside him took his hand and he took the hand of the older man on his other side. Jonathan imagined that they were his parents and they were watching a movie on some weekend night, spending time together like when he was a little kid. As he watched the movie, he decided that he was going to follow the pledge and that one day, he was going to get better, because Margaret was right. In here, she was convenient, but out there, he could be with her because he truly wanted to be with her.

That night he sat on his bed and took off his shirt, looking at the expanse of flesh. He’d snuck a razor blade into the hospital and hidden it in his carton of cigarettes. He retrieved it from the carton and stared at it, not moving to apply it gently to his skin. The blade reflected the moonlight shining in through the window and he twirled it between his fingers. He was good at hiding his depression, shoving it down into his stomach and covering it with fluffy feelings and jokes but at night when he was alone, they came up again like an unmade bed. He wanted the release that the blade offered when he desperately needed it but he closed his eyes and threw the blade across the floor where it hit the opposite wall. He wiped his nose on his wrist and looked out the window, hiding his tears. He hugged his waist with his other arm and stayed like that, watching the window and thinking about the well of pain he couldn’t quite name or target. His pain was all over, not connected to one source, which made it all worse. Finally he curled up in a ball and fell asleep, cold but wanting to feel the discomfort that overpowered his depressive pain.

...

end of pt. 2 :)

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

The Ward Pt. 1 | Jonathan Breech x fem!character

Summary: Jonathan Breech is sentenced to three months in a Dublin psych ward after trying to take his life. He meets a girl and thinks he's fallen in love... but is this just a product of opportunity and loneliness or could it be more?

Warnings: Based heavily on One the Edge (2001) so there is already a lot of mental-health specific discussions. More specifically- mentions of suicide, self-harm, death, depression, anxiety, feeling helpless and alone, medication, vomiting, pregnancy. There is nothing explicitly sexual in pt. 1 so there are no warnings for that here. Please don't read if you think any of the previously mentioned topics could be triggering! Some of this is taken from my personal experience with mental-health issues so read with care.

word count: 3098k

1979- The Smashing Pumpkins 🎶

Up the Junction- Squeeze 🎵

note- I named the female character because I personally don't love using "y/n." It can take away from the story that I'm trying to tell sometimes but the character is supposed to be general enough to be whomever you wish.

additional note (sry)- One the Edge is free on Internet Archive...

Please read the warnings before continuing, thanks!

Jonathan made his way through the hospital corridors, glancing briefly into each room they passed. 

“This is a pretty shitty hotel, eh? What do you charge per night? Whatever it is, I’m not fucking paying it,” he stumbled around behind one of the nurses and laughed lightly. They stopped in front of a room. 

“This is you. You’re expected in group therapy at 4.” The nurse deadpanned and unlocked the yellow steel door for him. Jonathan poked his head inside the door and whistled low. 

“Mhm, yep. Just what I was expecting,” he leaned out again and yelled after the nurse, “would it kill yeh to add some fucking color to this room? Fucking depressing.” He shook his head and wandered inside. He sat down on the mattress, the metal springs popped below and it sagged below his weight. He looked around at the drab gray room, the one window covered by rusted bars, and the bare bedside table. Jonathan emptied his pockets on the bed beside him and moved the carton of cigarettes to the table. A clock on the opposite wall ticked quietly and he watched it with his bright blue eyes, blinking every so often to the rhythm. 

A second nurse came by and handed him some clothes, pajamas. 

“What are these for?” Jonathan frowned, “I don’t need pajamas.” 

“You have to wear them during the day,” the nurse responded. 

“Why the hell would I do that when I have my normal clothes?” 

“Its policy, it distinguishes you from guests and day patients. In-patients have to wear these.” The nurse pointed to the pile of neatly folded clothes in Jonathan’s arms. “Put them on.” 

Jonathan sighed and kicked off his shoes. 

“You’re not gonna watch are yeh?” He sneered at the nurse when he didn’t leave immediately. The nurse turned and left, closing the door without another word. Jonathan stripped down to his underwear and examined the clothes that he was given. It was a matching pajama set in an icy blue color with smaller blue designs across the fabric. The sleeves were too short and ended at his forearm and the pants around his midcalf. He pinched the bridge of his nose and cursed under his breath. He put on his shoes and the cardigan he had brought with him, a yellow wool cardigan that still smelled like home. 

…

Around 4 o'clock Jonathan left his room and wandered aimlessly through the psychiatric ward, looking for the group therapy room. He walked until he spotted Dr. Figure walking into a small room and called out to him. 

“Heya, Dr. Figure. I’m here for my group therapy!” He said with a flare of dramatic excitement. Dr. Figure looked tired and responded with a strained smile. 

“Hello, Jonathan. Please come in.” They walked inside the room and Jonathan took a seat in a chair beside a boy around his age wearing a dark blue bathrobe. His light brown hair was messy and long and he wore round wire-framed glasses over his eyes. Dr. Figure sat opposite of him across the circle and cleared his throat as he arranged a stack of papers. Another boy and a girl sat at the circle too though neither of them looked up when Jonathan sat down. 

“Good afternoon everyone, thank you for coming today.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice,” Jonathan shrugged and pulled one of his knees up to his chest in the chair and rested his chin on his knee. 

“Yes, thank you Jonathan for coming anyway.” Dr. Figure sighed and gestured towards him, “this is Jonathan, everyone. He’s new and he’ll be joining us in group therapy. Why don’t we all introduce ourselves? I’ll start. I’m Dr. Figure and I’m the head psychiatrist here.”   

“I’m Toby.” The boy next to Jonathan nodded his head and Jonathan smiled at him. It passed across Jonathan to the girl on his otherside. She glanced up briefly to introduce herself with a small smile. 

“I’m Margaret.” She said softly and looked down at her hands again as the last boy introduced himself. He had headphones around his neck and a walkman clipped inside the pocket of his robe. Jonathan looked back at the girl, studying her. She looked as though she hadn’t slept in a while with the dark circles shading her downcast eyes. She was wearing a vintage nightgown, he realized, one with long sleeves and a modest neckline even though the dress was shorter than her knees. On her legs she had long brown socks tucked into a pair of duck boots. Her hair was brushed away from her face and fell straight down her back but he couldn’t see how long it actually was. She had a busted lip, he could tell from the bruising around her bottom lip and a scab that looked as if it was still bleeding. She played with the hem of her nightgown and glanced up again, catching him as he stared at her but he didn’t look away, she did. She flushed and stared at the tan tile around her chair. 

“Now I’d like to pass this around and I want you all to add any recent fears or anxieties that may have come up in the last few days that we haven’t talked about yet,” Dr. Figure handed the clipboard to the boy next to Margaret. Toby raised his hand. 

“Yes?”

“What if we’re scared of filling out paperwork?” Toby asked and Jonathan laughed. Dr. Figure seemed to genuinely ponder the question before Toby added, “that was a joke,” and Jonathan laughed again. 

“Why don’t you tell us what you’re afraid of, doctor?” Jonathan smiled and Dr. Figure exhaled. 

“It’s not important.”

“I think you’re deflecting, doctor.” 

“Jonathan, if you’d like to discuss my fears then I would be happy to do so at a later time in my office,” Dr. Figure answered calmly. 

“Oh, I see. You can analyze us as much as you want but as soon as someone asks the same question of you, you can’t answer, eh?” Jonathan crossed his arms across his chest. 

“It’s just not something that I do with my patients during group therapy. This is your time to get better, it isn’t about me.” 

“You know what would make me better, doctor?”

“What’s that, Jonathan?” Dr. Figure rubbed his eyes and waited for Jonathan to answer.

“I want clothes that actually fit. These are too short, I look ridiculous! And why do we have to wear fucking pajamas? How am I supposed to feel good about myself walking around in these, eh? And no one told me that girls were gonna be here too! Jesus, it's embarrassing.” Jonathan huffed and complained loudly, leaning forward in his seat sometimes to emphasize his point. He looked over at Margaret who was turning red. 

“I understand that you’re upset about the clothes but they shouldn’t matter. You’re here to get better, Jonathan.” Dr. Figure crossed his legs and clasped his hands together. 

“Now, if we could, please continue.” He gestured to Margaret to take the clipboard from the boy next to her. As she did so, Jonathan stood up and walked towards the door. 

“Thanks, doc. That’s it for today.” He waved his hand and left the room, letting the door close behind him. He went straight to his room and sat down on his bed. Gray light filtered in through the window and he looked out at the rainy streets. 

…

That evening he found the rec room and sat down by a window, bracing himself against a heater. Toby was sitting by the window as well and looked up at him when Jonathan approached. 

“Hey,” Toby nodded.

“Hey.” Jonathan replied and opened the window but it caught after a few inches. 

“It doesn’t open all the way,” Toby smiled, “they don’t want us to jump out.” 

“Damnit, that was going to be my plan A,” Jonathan shook his head.

“What’s your plan B?” 

“Wait out the next four months,” Jonathan chuckled darkly and reached into his breast pocket for a cigarette. 

“They won’t let you smoke that in here,” Toby advised and glanced over at the female nurses speaking quietly near the door. 

“I wouldn’t mind getting in trouble with them, eh?” He smirked at Toby who laughed. “Toby, right?”

“Yeah,” Toby nodded and pushed his glasses up his nose. 

“Jonathan,” he patted his chest for a second and changed the subject, “By the way, what’s that girl’s story, the one from group.”

“Margaret?” Toby asked and Jonathan nodded. “She’s been here for a week or two. I think we came in around the same time. I don’t know a lot about her because she doesn’t say much in group. It must be hard being the only girl around our age here.” Toby shrugged and continued, “She’s had that busted lip for a while but I’m not sure exactly how she got it. I’ve talked to her a little and she’s nice.”

“And cute,” Jonathan added with a laugh and Toby nodded. 

“Yeah, that too. I think she’s been through some shit.”

“Haven’t we all?” Jonathan muttered and Toby nodded knowingly. They sat in silence for a moment before Toby spoke again. 

“You know I’ve been sneaking out of here a few times a week at night. I could take you if you wanted.” 

“No shit,” Jonathan whispered with a smirk, “really?”

“Yeah. Wanna go tomorrow night?” 

“Of course.” 

“Ok,” Toby smiled. 

“Ok.” Jonathan affirmed and hopped up. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“See yah,” Toby waved and went back to looking out the window. 

Jonathan left the rec room and wandered further down the hallways, passing the women’s ward. There was one men’s bathroom in the women’s ward and he went in. The opposite end of the bathroom had a short tiled wall that ended in a ledge below a row of barred windows. There were three sinks on his left and two stalls on his right, one a handicapped stall. A single urinal stood against the wall. Sitting on the ledge and leaning against one of the walls of the handicapped stall was Margaret, reading a book. The dying light from the window shone through her nightgown, showing the dark silhouette of her body underneath. She looked up quickly and jumped at seeing her. 

“Shit sorry, I thought this was the men’s room.” 

“It is, sorry.” Margaret closed her book and hopped down from the ledge, wincing as her feet hit the ground. “I like to read in here.”

“In the men’s room?” Jonathan raised his dark eyebrow, his pink lips pursed. 

“No one uses this bathroom in the women’s ward.” 

“The male nurses?”

“They aren’t allowed to work in the ward… legal reasons.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and held the book against her chest. He looked at the cover of the book. 

“What are you reading?”

“Jane Eyre.”

“That’s a bit on the nose, isn’t it?” Jonathan laughed and she smiled. 

“Maybe but I love it. I love anything by the Brönte sisters.” She fingered one of the pages on the book and met his eyes. She had a heart-shaped face with messy unkempt eyebrows and she was short, barely 5”3. 

“Did someone have you locked up in their attic?” He joked. 

“No, though it would have made my life more interesting.” She smiled at him, her cheeks pressed up into her eyes and flushed slightly from the conversation.

“You’re cute,” Jonathan broke the momentary silence and her eyes widened slightly. 

“You don’t know me,” she laughed breathlessly and brushed past him to the door. He spun around and followed her. 

“I don’t have to know you to know that you’re cute.” He protested and smiled as she took the door handle in her hand. 

“Don’t be stupid,” She frowned and he threw up his hands in surrender. 

“Personally, I thought that was pretty smart but hey- wait! Don’t go, I wasn’t actually coming in here to use the bathroom, I just wanted some space.” 

She looked at him for a moment and rolled her eyes, “word of advice? Don’t call girls cute, it's demeaning.” She cocked her head at him and left the bathroom. He left after her and watched as she walked down the corridor to her room. She looked back at him and smiled to herself as she went inside and closed the door. 

…

Jonathan woke up early the next morning for his private appointment with Dr. Figure. His room was cold and he’d slept in a t-shirt on top of his covers like a child. He was shivering when he finally woke up and quickly changed into his warmer pajamas, gritting his teeth as he remembered how short they were on him. He pulled on a jumper and laced his roughed up sneakers. Stepping out into the corridor, he rubbed his shoulders for warmth and hopped down the stairs two at a time. He pushed open the door to the garden and followed the cement sidewalk through a row of tall hedges. The morning was cold but the sun was already in the sky and shining on the hospital’s grounds. As Jonathan passed through the first set of hedges he looked to the side. Sitting on a small wooden bench was Margaret, still reading Jane Eyre. She had on a pair of men’s blue checkered pajama pants and a dark green jumper, also still wearing her duck boots. She sat with her legs crossed beneath her and her hair billowed in the short rushes of wind. He caught himself looking at her crotch and snapped out of it. He stuck his hands beneath his armpits and walked over, smiling wide when she looked up. 

“How was your first night?” She dog-eared the page in her book and squinted up at him. 

“Not bad, but I woke up fucking freezing.” 

“The heaters don’t work in the rooms. That’s why I go into the bathrooms to read.”

“Or outside,” he pointed at her book. She smiled and looked down for a moment. 

“It’s part of my treatment. I spend an hour outside everyday, for the fresh air and sun. It’s supposed to make me happier.” 

“You know they have drugs that do the same thing.” Jonathan smiled and rocked back and forth on his feet. 

“I don’t take them… I haven’t for a few weeks.” 

“Oh?” Jonathan sniffed, his nose already running in the cold air. She thought about telling him why she wasn’t on her meds but changed her mind. Jonathan noticed her change in body language and cleared his throat. 

“Look, I’m supposed to have a meeting with the doc. Could you show me where his office is?” He cocked his head to the side, twisting his lips into a smile. 

“You think you’re real smooth, don’t you?” She shook her head, laughing. 

“Don’t know, it depends on whether or not you say yes doesn’t it?”

“And what if I have something I’d rather be doing?” She smirked slightly and brought her knees up to her chest, balancing her heels on the edge of the bench. 

“Do yah?” Jonathan asked. 

“Of course.”

“And what is that?” He brought his head back upright and continued to smile, “what would you rather be doing than walking with me?”

“Eating real food at a restaurant with warm bread at the table, or going to a library where I actually have a valid library card, or buying expensive ice cream that I can’t eat because it's freezing outside…” she listed off the items, taping her lips with her index finger. Her cheeks were pink from the cold and Jonathan imagined how soft and cold they would be against his fingers. 

“What if in exchange for showing me where the old man’s office is, I buy you an ice cream when we get out of this shithole?” He shuffled his feet in the brown grass and Margaret smiled softly. 

“You think we’re getting out of this place?” She shook her head, almost sad but still smiling. 

“Why don’t we just pretend we are, for the sake of today?” He shrugged and twisted his torso side to side. She watched him for a second, trailing her eyes over his lanky body stuffed into clothing that was made for someone much younger. She had to admit that he was pretty but there was a reason that they were all in there, and Jonathan wasn’t exempted from that. She nodded and put her feet back on the ground and stood. Holding Jane Eyre in her arms she led Jonathan back to the path in the direction of the smaller house near the border wall. 

“So, what ice cream do you like?” Jonathan asked. His sneakers gripped the pavement and sent small pebbles bouncing across the pavement. 

“German chocolate,” she answered after a moment of serious deliberation. 

“You know, I’ve noticed something.”

“What?” She looked at him as they walked. 

“I don’t recognize your accent. You aren’t Irish.”

“No,” she shook her head, “are you disappointed?” 

He smiled and put his head back, “No, no. I’m just surprised. You don’t sound British either…” He bit his lip, trying to place her accent. 

“I’m American,” she answered for him and pulled her hair to the side of her shoulder. 

“American? What are you doing here?” He laughed lightly and she blushed. 

“I’m studying here for a semester.”

“Where?” 

“Trinity,” she glanced at him, “for Literature.” 

“Fuck, no wonder you’re depressed. Why would you come to Ireland for college?” He laughed and she blushed further. 

“I just wanted to get away from my family and Ireland seemed like the farthest place from home… and you have a good Literature program here.” 

“Ah, all the Irish poets and writers…”

“And Sinead O’conner.” She added and Jonathan laughed loudly. 

“You’re funny.” 

“And cute, apparently.” She shrugged, “you still haven’t apologized.” 

“For what?” He played dumb. 

“For calling me cute.” 

“I’m not apologizing for pointing out something that’s true.” He argued and she looked up at the sky, pretending to study the clouds. 

“I think you’re an asshole, Jonathan.” She looked up at him and he nodded slowly, a small smile stuck to his lips. 

“So do I.” 

They walked in silence to the house and Margaret left him at the door. He walked in through the door, strips of paint curled and fell onto the doormat. 

“Don’t forget that you owe me an ice cream,” she called quietly before the door closed and he gave a little salute before the door snapped shut.

...

end of pt. 1 :)

Thank you so much for all of the support. This community means the world to me and I feel very supported by everyone on this niche community. I love writing these silly little fanfics and I'm flattered that people like them. I read all of your comments and reblogs- lots of love!

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

could you write a fic about any cillian character, of ur choice, were its the readers first time and he is really sweet and gentle? Luv your writings btw!!!

Any character, you say...? 👀 Well, then I guess it's time to take a shot at my white whale. I love zombies, I love 28 Days Later, and I love Jim. I have been somewhat avoiding writing for him because I didn't feel like I had any strong concepts for a fic, and I struggle to get his "voice" right in my head for the dialogue. But gosh darn it, the world needs more Jim fics. And I feel like this prompt just fits him. Thank you for the request, anon, and for giving me the push I needed!

Morning Light

Pairing: Jim (28 Days Later) x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: In a rare moment of peace in a strange new world, you and Jim find comfort in each other's arms.

Warnings: Smut, loss of virginity (for reader, not Jim), oral (f receiving), praise, brief mention of past attempted sexual assault (basically what happens in canon), for the purposes of this fic we're gonna pretend that Jim doesn't get shot in the stomach lmao

***Please read the warnings before continuing. Minors DNI***

Jim’s lips taste like something you can’t quite put your finger on. Whatever it is, it has you swooning. Dizzy with desire as you inhale; trying to steady your breath while your hand trails down over his bare chest.

“We really don’t have to,” he murmurs.

“I know,” you reply. “But I want to.”

You lean in for another kiss. Bodies pressed so tightly together, laying on the rickety little bed in the tiny cottage you now call home, you truly do want nothing more. Jim, stretched lazily out beneath you, brings a hand up to cup your face and deepen the kiss. Your senses swell with that scent, whatever it is, and your eyes flutter closed against the light that streams in through the windows.

“Are you sure?” he asks, pulling away again, just enough to speak.

His nose still brushes softly against yours, and his thumb trails over your cheek. You feel yourself melt deeper into his touch, almost too distracted to remember to respond.

“I’m sure.”

“But… really? So soon after…”

You know what he’s about to say. What he doesn’t want to remember; choosing instead to let himself trail off as he smooths his fingers over your jawline. But that - that horrible thing that almost happened - is all part of the reason why you want Jim so badly. You want your first time to be with him. To be special; with someone you truly care for. 

Years and years ago, when all of your friends had been so desperate to grow up and run headfirst into their sexuality, you had been content to wait. But now, things have changed. Being alive suddenly feels fragile and impermanent, and your dangerous encounter with the soldiers has taught you that life doesn’t wait for you. Nor does it wait for that perfect moment.

Although, this moment here with Jim does feel somehow perfect. Jim’s body against yours is warm, and even with both of your sweaters flung over the side of the bed, you feel a heat washing over your chest as Jim wraps his strong arms around you a little tighter.

“Jim, are you really the nervous one here?” You laugh, your voice a bit airy and high as it betrays your own nerves.

“M’not nervous,” he scoffs. “I’m just… I don’t want to hurt you, or force you into anything.”

You let your body sink into his. Jim pulls you even closer, pressing your weight into his chest. Your forehead rests lightly against his, noses still touching as you laugh again.

“Girl gets you naked in bed like this, and you still think you’re forcing her?” you tease.

“Well, fair.” Jim relents. “You were the one who took off my clothes.”

Jim nuzzles into another kiss as he speaks, breaking some of the tension and making you clutch at his chest. This time, his lips linger against yours a little longer, parting just slightly so the tip of his tongue can dart out. You feel the ache inside of you deepen, your body calling out to his.

“But you’re sure, though?” Jim asks again. He moves his hand to your shoulder, steadying you. “You do want to? We don’t have t-”

His words are cut off by your hand drifting lower, until your fingers are wrapped tightly around him. Despite Jim’s insistence that you don’t “have to,” it’s abundantly clear that he wants to.

His skin is like silk under your fingers. Your hand moves slowly up and down, coaxing him on as you bite at his lip. Jim breaks the kiss to lean his head back into the pillow, eyes still shut as an expression of bliss overtakes his features.

“Okay - you’re sure you haven’t done this before?” he jokes, one blue eye cracking open to look at you.

You try to contain a laugh.

“Don’t flatter me,” you tease back. “It’s probably just been months since you’ve gotten any…”

“Ouch, insulting my masculinity and yet she still expects me to fuck her.”

Jim meets your sly look with one of his own, just as your expression crumbles into embarrassment. His smirk quickly turns into a smile, seeing the effect his words have.

“And she likes a little dirty talk, does she?”

Your face heats up even more, and Jim kisses the tip of your nose. 

“Sorry, love. Just can’t resist teasin’ ya,” he hums.

Despite your inexperience, you feel certain that you’re not supposed to feel this flustered. But, Jim has that effect on you. He always has. The pressure that’s been steadily building between your legs suddenly feels even more uncomfortable.

“Having second thoughts?” Jim laughs as you wriggle against him.

“You wish,” you challenge, pressing your nose against his a bit harder.

Suddenly, Jim grabs your waist and flips you over, so that his weight is pressed over you. He sinks a kiss into the hollow of your neck - still gentle, but with a hint of lust now that’s becoming impossible to ignore.

“Guess I might as well just give in if y’want it so badly,” Jim whispers, his breath fanning hot against your chest.

His words send a thrill of excitement through you; bursting out from your lungs and rushing all the way down to your toes. You bring your hands up to his shoulders, clinging to him as he pulls away from you. You’re confused for a moment, until he looks up into your eyes as he sinks lower down your body.

“How’s this?” Jim starts. “First I’ll eat you out, an’ then we can see how you’re feeling.”

The air seems to catch in your throat, but you nod. Jim plants a soft kiss on your stomach before drifting lower, hands parting your legs so that he can settle in.

“Lucky me,” Jim says, taking a long look at you. “Pretty face and a pretty pus-”

“Jim!” you cry, covering your face with your hands.

He kisses the inside of your leg, teasing with a gentle nip of his teeth.

“Ah, don’t get all shy on me, now,” he murmurs.

You look down to see a devilish glint in Jim’s eyes, staring back up at you. They’re so blue, you think you could drown in them. But, you fight to shake yourself out of the trance.

“It’s hard not to when you’re… looking at it,” you complain, laughing nervously.

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed - I mean it. You’re beautiful.”

Your cheeks burn hotter than ever as Jim continues.

“Every part of you is beautiful.”

He kisses your leg again, and before you have a chance to respond, his lips have moved over your core, and you gasp. Jim’s mouth is warm and wet; his tongue pressed flat against you as he gives you a moment to get used to the sensation. It’s so different from anything you’ve ever felt. Of course, you had touched yourself there before - but Jim’s tongue is nothing like the rough pads of your fingers. It’s so soft, and you feel yourself sink further into the mattress, prompting a low creak from the ancient bedframe.

Jim’s tongue moves just a centimeter, brushing up against your clit as he sucks gently into his mouth. You can’t help the soft sigh that leaves you, or the way your fingers grab onto the bed sheets, fabric bunching up in your grip. 

“How’s that feel, love?” Jim asks, breaking away.

“It’s… wow,” you answer, already a little out of breath.

“Rave reviews,” Jim jokes, smile creeping back over his face. “Tell all your friends, yeah?”

You have half a mind to shove him, if only you could find the willpower to reach down between your legs. As it is, all you can do is let out another breathy sigh. Your body feels strangely heavy, and you use every ounce of your strength to move your hips down toward him.

“Jim… more,” you plead.

You expect him to make another quip, but instead, you feel his tongue press against you again, the fan of his breath tickling you as he sighs happily. Your fingers curl, and your back arches. One of Jim’s hands comes up to find yours, peeling your fingers out from the blankets so that they can intertwine with his. You squeeze his hand, feeling yourself grow more and more desperate as the swirl of new sensations overwhelm you.

“J-Jim-”

You barely get to start your sentence before the pleasure reaches its peak, washing over you like the rays of soft sunlight still pouring in through the windows. Your sharp cry turns into a gasp, breath hitching as your whole body seems to buzz. Jim’s hand in yours anchors you, as his lips kiss you gently through your release.

When he sits up, Jim’s face is just a bit too smug.

“What are you smiling at?” you groan, throwing your head back into the pillow to stare up at the ceiling.

“Making you feel good,” Jim answers sincerely.

He kisses his way back up your body, finally pressing his lips to your shoulder and leaving another small bite.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

You sigh, letting all of the air leave your lungs. The pause lingers for a brief moment before you answer.

“Like I’m floating.”

“That good, huh?”

You can practically hear the smirk in Jim’s voice. Weakly, you bat at his arms.

“Don’t get all cocky,” you warn.

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Jim really is unbearable. You look at each other for a moment, Jim’s eyes fixed intently on your face, while you can still hardly focus on what’s in front of you. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

“Still want to keep going?” Jim asks you.

“Mmmm,” you sigh, nodding your head.

Jim’s hand slides down to cup your sex, one finger brushing against your entrance. He leans up to kiss you properly, pausing at the feel of your tongue in his mouth as you press past his lips. Whatever you had tasted there before was gone; replaced by your own slightly tangy arousal. Jim groans, and a deep hum fills your mouth.

“Let me know if you want me to stop,” he whispers.

But as soon as he pushes past your resistance, you know there’s no chance of you stopping him. The stretch is too good. You’ve done this before to yourself, too - but your fingers are slender compared to Jim’s. His fill you up and have you nearly seeing stars as you cling to him, moving to grasp his arms for support.

“Feels good?”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak. The stretch only stings a little bit, and you’re so wet you barely even notice. The pleasure takes over as Jim pumps in and out of you, coating his finger with your slick.

“One more,” you beg.

“Be patient,” Jim scolds, as he continues to slowly work you open. “Try to relax a bit more.”

You do; letting your body settle down onto the mattress. As you relax your muscles, trying to focus again on your steady breathing, Jim kisses the edge of your jaw.

“Okay,” he says. “Tell me if this is too much.”

Despite your best attempts to loosen up, the addition of a second finger is just a bit painful, stretching you beyond anything you’ve felt before. You jump, a little surprised, then relax into the feel of it.

“Still alright?”

“Mmm-hm,” you reply, breathing slowly out through your nose.

“Good,” Jim breathes. “Doing so well for me, love.”

His words make you melt, and you feel yourself clenching around his fingers. Jim lets out a low moan.

“Fuck,” he laughs. “You’re gonna feel amazing. Can’t wait ‘til you’re wrapped around me.”

There’s that familiar heat on your face, rushing in as Jim makes your whole body burn with his words yet again. Not as filthy as before, but somehow the genuine lust in his voice is even worse. You feel him yearning for you; still pressed hard against your leg as he patiently stretches you out. You tilt your head back into the pillows, silently begging him to kiss your neck, and Jim’s lips press over your pulse.

“Jim?” you sigh.

“Hm?”

“Can you please stop stalling and fuck me now?”

You feel Jim smirk against your neck, clearly enjoying the fact that you have a dirty mouth, too - when you want to. He presses one more kiss to your collarbone.

“Stalling, am I? First time I’ve heard a girl call it that.”

Jim laughs, briefly, and you feel his breath fan over you again.

“I’d ask if you’re sure you’re ready,” he taunts. “But I really don’t think I’ve ever made anyone this wet before.”

You’re so turned on you almost forget to be embarrassed, but the feeling of Jim shifting to line up with your entrance is enough to make that burning heat creep over your cheeks again.

“Are you ready, though?” Jim asks, kissing you quickly before pulling back to let you answer.

“I am.”

You reach up to wrap your arms tight around him again as he sinks into you, pressing forward inch by inch. Your eyes widen by the time he’s halfway in, shocked at how it just keeps going. Jim feels your hesitation and stops.

“Everything alright?” he pants. Clearly, Jim is having a bit of trouble composing himself, too.

“It’s fine,” you reply. “Just… big.”

Jim laughs, a little more strained than usual as your walls press all around him.

“You’ll really have to stop stroking my ego like that if you want this to last more than five minutes, love,” he teases.

“Jim…” you start to complain.

“I know, I know. ‘Shut up and fuck me,’ she says,” Jim mutters. He presses into you a bit more, and a soft, desperate sigh leaves your lips. “Or at least, she would if she could think straight,” he continues.

He’s right; you’re not thinking of anything other than him, and how he’s filling you up so completely. Stretching out your walls and touching places inside of you that you didn’t know even existed, until now. Replacing the dull ache of your arousal with an unfamiliar pressure - but certainly not an unwelcome one.

“How’s it feel?” Jim asks.

“It’s… different. Feels kind of weird,” you admit.

“Okay, you don’t have to keep my ego in check that much,” Jim laughs. His eyes meet yours for a brief second, and then close. “But, fuck, you feel so fucking good.”

Jim’s face dips down to your shoulder, and you can tell that he’s barely still able to hold it together. Although you had been joking earlier, you’re certain that it truly has been months for Jim. You can’t say for sure when the last time he got laid was, but it had to have been before the start of everything. Poor guy. This is the perfect opportunity to mess with him. Call it payback for all the teasing.

“Alright,” you sigh, trying to keep your voice light and jovial. It’s harder than it should be when your heart is pounding out of your chest. “I got what I wanted out of you; we can stop now.”

Jim groans above you, his forehead pressing even deeper into the crook of your shoulder.

“You’re joking,” he whines, one hand gripping at your waist. His fingers tighten a little. “Please say you’re joking.”

You stay silent, lips pursed together in a barely-contained smile. Jim pulls back to look at you, and instantly notices the smug look on your face.

“You’re unbelievable,” Jim huffs, pressing his lips against your neck once again in a hungry kiss.

He pinches your hip, making you squirm. Jim steadies you, holding you in place as he plants another kiss on your lips, then pulls back.

“We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet,” he teases.

“You mean the good part wasn’t watching you almost cum all over the sheets just from eating me out?”

Now it’s Jim’s turn to be flustered, and you watch with delight as a soft dusting of pink crosses his cheeks.

“You’d better watch it,” Jim says, squeezing you again. “I was gonna be gentle, you know. But if you keep this up, I might just have to fuck you silly.”

You giggle, the sound of your bright laughter filling the room. For a few seconds, the only thing in the world that matters is Jim. Every moment that’s brought you here, no matter how painfully etched in stone, is worth it to be here with him.

“Will you, though?” you say, bringing Jim’s face a bit closer so yours can look into his eyes. “Be gentle?”

“Of course,” Jim hums, leaning down to kiss your soft lips. “Are you still feeling okay?”

“Yes…”

And you are. You've gotten used to the stretch, and the strange pressure has built into a need that has you fighting to stop yourself from pushing up against Jim’s hips, desperate for friction.

“You sure?” Jim asks, sensing that something has been left unsaid.

“I just… I want to feel you move,” you admit, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

Jim turns his head to kiss your temple, letting his lips hover over your warm skin.

“That's the good part, love,” Jim teases. “Wrap your legs around me,’kay?”

You do as he says, bringing your legs up to fold around his waist. It causes Jim to hit at a new angle inside you, and for a second you think about backing out. This feels like it could be too much; like he's able to press too deeply inside of you - and the thought of giving someone else so much of yourself is daunting.

But when Jim starts to move, gently and carefully, all of your worries disappear. The first few times he thrusts feel a bit strange, but soon, the feeling is making you lightheaded in the best possible way. Not to mention the way that the swell of his head seems to part you, making you clench at his absence and sigh in pure bliss when he fills you back up. You can feel every inch of yourself as he slowly rocks in and out, hips staying close to avoid overwhelming you.

“Jim!” you cry, squeezing your legs around him a little harder.

“You like it there?” he grunts, his voice gentle but laced with desire.

He changes his angle to hit the spot again, and this time your fingers press into his back. Jim kisses you, swallowing your moans as you feel yourself building toward your release. This time, with Jim pressing deep inside you, you feel yourself clamp down around him.

“Gonna come for me again, pretty girl?” Jim whispers.

Your body is too rigid to even nod as you feel it finally wash over you - a wave of pleasure more intense than you can handle. You're panting and laughing all at once as Jim presses kisses all over your face.

“That was incredible,” he praises, softly. 

You look up to see him, his face framed so perfectly in the glow of the morning light. His lips are slightly parted, awe plainly written in the way his eyes trail over you. You have a sudden urge to run your fingers through his cropped hair, and press his mouth to yours.

But instead, Jim leans down to give you another gentle kiss. That taste on his lips is back again, slightly sweet and utterly addictive. 

“Enjoy your first time, love?” Jim teases, pulling himself out of you with one final, toe-curling drag. He kisses you again, lips pressed firm against yours like there’s truly nowhere else in the world he’d rather be.

You surface from your post-sex haze just long enough to be confused. Aren't these things supposed to end with a little more… bravado?

“Jim, aren't you gonna…? Don't you want to…?”

“Not this time, love,” he cuts in. “Like I said, don't want to hurt you.”

“You wouldn’t hurt me!” you protest.

Jim pauses, still hovering just above you. He leans down to whisper in your ear, his low voice getting a shade darker.

“Maybe not, but I do think I might break the poor bed if I let myself do everything I want to ya,” he murmurs.

“We can sleep on the floor,” you say, responding without hesitation.

Jim laughs softly, trailing his fingers over the swell of your hip. He pulls back to look at you again, blue eyes swimming with lust.

“Don't worry, love - you look so good like this, I'm not gonna be able to resist it for long. But for now…”

Jim flops down onto the rickety bed, pulling you with him to rest on his chest. The rhythmic rise and fall of his breath makes you feel calm, soothing you all the way down from your high. Jim brings a hand up to cradle your neck, pressing you into him just a bit more so that he can lean down to kiss your forehead.

As you lay there together, your eyes flutter closed.

“Jim?”

“Mm?”

“Thank you.”

“For what?” he scoffs. 

Same playful Jim that you first fell for, weeks ago now. You can't help but smile, and snuggle up a bit closer.

“For always being here for me,” you answer.

“Of course, love.” Jim's breaths are slowing down now, lulling you into the same sleep that he's quickly falling into. “Any time.”

You kiss him, lips pressing into his bare chest, and Jim’s arms squeeze you tightly. As the sunlight streams in through the dusty windows, blanketing both of you in its warmth, you realize just how lucky you are. You press an ear against his chest, listening to the thrum of Jim’s heartbeat.

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

could you write one shot of the reader crying bc she’s insecure dating cill?:)

Nerves | young!Cillian x fem!Reader

Summary: Its the night of the Drama Desk Award Show (2012) and the up and coming star Cillian Murphy has a new girlfriend. She loves him but she still struggles to overcome her insecurity when it comes to being with Cillian. Hours before the show, she finally confides in him and he does everything he can think of to make her feel better before the big night.

Warnings: Self-deprecation and insecurity, anxiety, crying, smut, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), after-care. Heavily inspired by the Golden Globes show last night where Cillian had lipstick on his nose lol. This is a fictional story that does not reflect Cillian Murphy in reality- it is purely delusional lol. Cillian is not married in this- no hate towards Yvonne, please.

work count: 2815k

Warning sign- Coldplay 🎶

note: I hope I did your request justice :)

Minors do not interact. Not proof read- sorry folks!

She was going completely insane. There was no way in hell that Cillian Murphy actually loved her. He was the most attractive man she had ever met and the kind of guy who talked very little which meant that she talked more than she would have liked just to fill the silence when they first started dating. She beat herself up about it on a regular basis, mortified how she seemed to say the most ridiculous things to Cillian and watched as he chuckled politely. She tried to tell herself that she was beautiful, that other people found her beautiful, and that she was degrading herself for no reason. But that didn’t stop the constant weight of insecurity settling on her shoulders whenever she was with him. She felt unattractive, like the kind of girl that never got the guy, and it was affecting her mental health. 

She told herself over and over again as she got ready for the award show that Cillian had chosen her, that he wouldn’t be with her if he didn’t love her. Once she had prided herself on her confidence and even-tempered personality but she felt the exact opposite whenever she was alone with him. Being in public was a little easier, she could hide behind the absurdity of the paparazzi, she could take Cillian’s hand because he was leading her away, etc. But once they were alone, she felt insecure and a little delusional because none of it felt real… and maybe none of it was. Maybe this was all a fantasy but that couldn’t be because Cillian was real and the assistants swarming her with hair tools and makeup swatches were certainly real too. 

They had started officially dating a few months before, right after his play Misterman was officially done touring. They’d gone on a few dates here and there but everything suddenly got serious after closing night, she honestly couldn't even remember how it happened. Now, don’t get her wrong, he loved being with Cillian but like so many girls (and others), she struggled to feel adequate in her relationship with Cillian. He was such an amazing performer and just so downright beautiful that it intimidated her. She was working as an author and happened to go to a party that Cillian was also at in New York City. They were introduced and she was surprised how shy he was, even as an already famous actor. And though she talked incessantly because she was afraid of awkward silence, he’d still asked her out on a date. 

The rest had obviously led up to this moment in a small hotel room where they were both getting ready for The Drama Desk Award show in NYC. One of her assistants helped her choose a dress from a local upscale department store and they decided on a red velvet dress with a very simple silhouette. It was laced tightly around her waist and the hem ended mid-thigh. Cillian, ever the practically dressed man, wore a simple tux and styled his hair with a sticky product. Once they were dressed, their assistants left, telling them that a car would arrive to take them to the show. Cillian stepped out of the bathroom where he was checking his hair and snapped off the bright yellow light, his eyes fell on her.  

“Wow, look at you,” Cillian smiled as she turned around in the mirror, checking that the back looked ok. 

“Do you like it?” She laughed self-consciously and put her hands on her hips. 

“Mhm, it's beautiful.” He licked his lips and she blushed deeply, feeling the rush of blood through her body like a little girl with a crush. 

“Hey, hey, come here! You’re blushing,” Cillian caught her wrist and pulled her around to face him. She looked to the side, smiling. “That’s so cute.” 

“Stop it, Cill,” she swatted him away but he caught her waist between his palms and held her still, his piercing blue eyes holding her like a magnet. 

“What’s wrong?” His smile softened and he ran his thumbs across her velvet bodice. She took a deep breath and tried to smile normally. 

“I’m just nervous,” she shrugged. 

“About being in front of so many people?”

“No, not really. I don’t mind that so much.”

“Then why are you nervous?” He furrowed his brow and shifted his weight on his feet, stepping closer. 

“I’m,” she started but his closeness distracted her. He was so close that his breath dragged across her forehead and displaced some of her hair. They’d only had sex twice because it was still so early in their relationship. She had an apartment in New York but Cillian had gotten a room in a hotel nearby as well, not wanting to force himself into her private life. When he was doing Misterman he stayed with a friend and had visited her only a few times when their schedules aligned. In their absence from one another, a sense of sexual depravity heightened between them. Even just thinking about Cillian in bed with her made her catch her breath, nearly choking on her own oxygen. 

“I’m just,” she started again, her eyes caught on Cillian’s lips. Cillian’s eyes were on her’s and she shivered under his gaze. “I’m just nervous being around you.” She finished finally and looked up at him for his reaction. He snapped away from his trance and raised an eyebrow. 

“Why’s that?” 

She shook her head, not breaking eye contact. Her hands clasped around his forearms, his hands still tight around her waist. 

“It's just hard to be vulnerable, you know? It’s hard being with someone else when you’re more comfortable being by yourself. And… well, sometimes I don’t feel good enough to be with you.” She started to cry and wiped the tears quickly from her face, embarrassed. His concern changed to a wide smile. 

“Ah,” Cillian threw back his head and laughed lightly, his dark hair shifting from his forehead, “really? You don’t think you’re good enough to be with me? Sweetheart, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes on. You’re a best-selling author and smart as hell, I’m fucking intimidated by you.” He moved his hands to cup her face, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh on her cheeks. 

“But you’re Cillian Murphy.” She emphasized and moved her hands to his belt loops. 

“Then remember, sweetheart, that you’re Cillian Murphy’s girl.” She smiled, adding a self-deprecating emphasis on his own name. She blushed again and he laughed, “you’re blushing again!” 

“Jesus christ,” she hid her face in her hands and turned away. Cillian laughed and kissed her bare shoulder. When she pulled her hands away from her face, he wrapped his arms around her chest from behind. They stared at each other in the mirror. 

“I think you’re going to win, Cill.” She whispered with a closed smile. He scoffed jokingly. 

“I’m flattered but I really doubt it.” 

“I think you will.” She shrugged. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She nodded and leaned back against him. He licked his lips and smiled slyly. 

“Well, then if I win, as you say I will, I want to spend the night with you.” 

“Oh? Is that the deal?” She laughed and resisted his strong hold around her, “what happens if you lose?” She frowned jokingly. 

“Hmm,” he thought, “maybe you’ll still fuck me because you feel so bad for me.” “Do you really want me, Cillian?” She asked seriously and he paused, watching her closely. 

“Do you not believe me?” He asked seriously back, his eyebrow raised. 

“No, not really,” she whispered and he looked at her sadly for a moment, trying to understand where this insecurity came from and what he could do to relieve its pressure on her psyche. He looked down at his watch and stepped away from her, leaving her in the center of the mirror’s reflection. 

“Take off your dress.” He whispered, meeting her eyes in the mirror. She shook her head.

“What?” 

“Take it off, darling.” 

She looked down at her dress and then back at him. He stood patiently behind her, waiting. 

“We have time so do as I ask, please.” He nodded to her dress, “take it all off.” 

She very slowly undid the ties at her back, loosening the dress around her waist. She kicked off her flats and took a deep breath before letting her dress slip from her chest down to the carpeted floor. She was left in her bra and underwear, both red to hide beneath the red dress. He sighed deeply, his pupils expanding childishly. He sat back on the edge of the bed and rested his head in his palm. 

“Go on.” He encouraged and she reached behind her back, undoing the bra and casting it to the side. Then she removed her underwear, standing completely nude in the mirror. Her heart pounded against her chest. 

“This, this is why I want you.” He nodded to her body. He stood and stopped behind her, his hand reaching around to her navel. “I’ve been thinking about you for so long, it was driving me crazy.” He whispered against her ear. His hand trailed up her stomach to her top rib and stayed there, not yet touching her breast. 

“Every part of you is perfect,” he continued, his hand sliding down to her thighs and then up to her breasts where he finally cupped them. Every ridge and roll of fat fell below his hand as he explored her body. She shuttered. 

She suddenly felt a small surge of confidence. “Do you masturbate about me?” 

He looked at her and smiled shyly, “yeah… yeah.” He shook his head, “like I’m a fucking teenage boy. I feel like I need you all the time.” He gasped quietly against her bare skin. 

She turned and pressed herself against his chest, wrapping her arms around his neck. She kissed him giddily and he smiled against her lips. His hand cupped her cunt as he kissed her back. She gasped at his touch and unbuttoned his pants. He kicked off his loafers and picked her up. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he laid her down on the hotel’s bed. She could feel his erection against her cunt as she fell onto the soft mattress. She sat up and pushed his dress jacket from his shoulder and tossed it carefully to the side. He was still in his dress shirt and bowtie as he pulled his erection from his underwear. She pulled him down to her mouth and continued to kiss him as he rubbed her clit, warming her up. 

“Fuck, Cillian.” 

“Yeah?” He whispered against her lips. 

“God, I love you.” She gasped as he pushed his cock against her cunt and he smiled, his eyes closed. 

“I love you too.” He exhaled and pushed inside her with a gentle thrust. She whimpered from the sudden intrusion and he gasped. He held her hips and fucked her deeper, still going slow and allowing her body to get used to him. 

“This is so good, Jesus Christ. Are you ready?” He looked down at her and she nodded quickly. He licked his lips and started to fuck her faster, their bodies hitting eachother more aggressively as he sped up. She whimpered in pleasure and he exhaled in short bursts, already panting. He pulled out and crawled onto the bed below her. With one hand he pulled her farther up on the bed and the other he positioned her hips again. He thrusted inside again and grabbed the headboard, digging his fingers into the padded surface. 

“Shit, Cillian I’m going to cum!” She whimpered, her thighs flexed against his pale hips. He shuttered and looked down at her. 

“No, not yet. I’m not done with you yet, sweetheart.” He cooed and slowed down. He slipped his arms beneath her and laid his palms flat on the mattress. He held her hip up with one hand and moved in and out slowly, pushing as deep as she would allow him to go. 

“Fuck…” she gasped and dug her nails into his back helplessly. She felt a pleasurable shock shoot from between her legs and she covered her mouth to muffle her loud moans. 

“Oh you poor thing, you had to cum, didn’t you? You couldn't wait for me. So you’ll just have to cum twice, ok?” He panted and she nodded, tears filling her eyes and he snapped his hips back against her. He fucked her faster, panting from the pleasure. He grabbed the bottom of the headboard and pulled himself deeper inside her and she threw her head back in pleasure.

“Fucking hell, look at you,” He stroked her hair and continued fucking her fast, drawing out loud and pitiful moans from his throat. “You’re so good for me. God, I love you. You’re my girl.” He muttered deliriously, her walls closing around him and her thigh pulling him closer. The bed rocked beneath them. 

“Harder, Cillian. Please!” She begged, a small spot of drool collecting at the corner of her mouth. He smiled and went deeper, hitting the base of her uterus with fast and rough thrusts. He got sloppier and she gasped against her hand. He kissed her and when she opened her mouth in a moan, he sucked her tongue. She licked his upper lip when he threw his head back in pleasure. 

“I’m going to cum, fuck!” He panted and gave a final thrust into her. As he finished, she squirted and shuttered from the violent pleasure. He pulled out with a proud laugh and kissed her. He climbed off the bed and pulled her down to the edge of the bed by her ankle. 

“What are you doing now?” She giggled. 

“Cleaning up, darling.” He lowered himself to his knees and spread her legs with his sweaty palms. He looked at her for a second before licking her cunt, twirling his tongue against her clit. She was already so sensitive that she arched her back and bit down on her finger to stop herself from literally screaming. He used a flat tongue to clean the cum from her body and sucked softly on her clit. She tugged at his hair, gasping in exhausted pleasure. He held her hips in place as he dug her heels into the mattress, her feet flexed completely. He continued to lick when she orgasmed, cleaning her completely. Then with a proud smile, he put on his underwear and went to the bathroom. He came back with a damp washcloth and lifted one of her legs, wiping the soft inside of her thigh. He did the same to the other as she panted. She sat up and kissed him. 

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“I love you.” He responded and kissed her on her forehead before handing her dress back to her. She quickly put her dress back on and fixed her makeup. She applied a red lip gloss and brushed her hair away from her face. Cillian put his pants and shoes back on before pulling on his jacket and straightening the front. A knock sounded at the door and Cillian nodded at her as if nothing had happened. 

“Ready?” 

“Yeah.” She smiled and grabbed her purse. He took her hand and they walked down to the parking lot where the car was waiting to take them to the award ceremony. His hand stayed in her’s, their fingers linked. She rested against his chest and he kissed the top of her head. The venue was lit up and crowded with paparazzi and cars. This was the first time that she would be seen with Cillian at any of his events. He helped her out of the car and put a protective hand behind her back, leading her through the crowd to the entrance. Once inside, they were shown to their table and she shifted her foot closer to his, wanting to be as close as possible. People snapped their picture and introduced themselves to her, Cillian introduced her as his girlfriend and she blushed each time, prompting a playful pinch from Cillian.

She squeezed his thigh when the nominees were announced for his category. 

“And the award for outstanding solo performance is…” The announcer looked down at the envelope and smiled at the audience, “Cillian Murphy, Misterman!” Everyone applauded and Cillian turned to her, kissing her in his moment of excitement and happiness. She kissed him back and laughed when he pulled away. Her lip gloss was smeared across his lips. 

“You have lip gloss on your face now!” She whispered as he stood. 

“Perfect.” He whispered in her ear and walked shyly to the stage, taking the award with shy nods, his eyes finding her’s in the audience, smudges of red across his mouth. She was his. 

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Cut the Shit-Delusion, Sweetheart | Cillian Murphy x fem!reader

summary: A young actress confesses her feelings to Cillian Murphy, this is how he responds.

warning: This is a much different story than I usually write but I think it's one that we all need in moments of pain and loneliness; to allow ourselves to feel sad and disappointment and hurt. We use people like Cillian to comfort ourselves and give ourselves reasons to be happy and sometimes we need moments to be sad. I was inspired by Fleabag (of course) and an AI edit I saw of Cillian where he turns someone down and its really sweet even though it breaks my heart lol. Age-diff, 1 noncon kiss, talk of infidelity.

word count: 1791+k

Blue Light- Mazzy Star 🎶

Don't interact if you're a Yvonne-hater, please and thanks <3

She hesitated before she knocked on the side-door of Cillian’s trailer. This desperate feeling overwhelmed her and she knew that she couldn’t sleep unless she went to him and confessed how she felt. She’d been plagued by dreams of them together, these beautiful, perfect dreams that poisoned her sleep like melatonin. She loved him and whether or not he felt the same way, she needed to tell him. She exhaled shakily as she dropped her arm back to her side. She was wearing her normal clothes, out of costume finally after a long day of shooting. She lost her sense of security behind the battlements of her gowns and numerous frilly things. She couldn’t hide her feelings behind her character anymore. 

The door opened and Cillian leaned against the doorframe in a casual greeting. 

“Don’t tell me we have a late night call time tonight, I’m fucking exhausted.” He smiled with his lopsided grin, his wide lips framing his teeth.

“No, but there is some business I need to attend to. May I come in?” She returned his smile and mirrored his posture. 

“Sure, come on.” He stepped aside and raised his arm in a welcoming gesture for her to pass through the door. She nodded in silent thanks and stood awkwardly in his trailer which was simple and quaint. Except for the unmade bed, the trailer was neat and orderly. 

“Oh fuck I’m sorry, were you asleep when I knocked?” She blushed and squeezed her palms together in an anxious gesture. 

“Nah, I was just reading the script for a movie my agent wants me to do next.” 

“Oh,” she nodded and turned her attention to the rack of costumes his character wore, “is it any good?” 

“It's definitely interesting but I don’t think it’s t’e right film for me.” He sighed and sat on the edge of his bed. Cillian was wearing a plain t-shirt and pajama pants, and seeing the innocent-intimate side of his life made her want so desperately to kiss him. She sat on the small couch he had in the trailer and tried to smile. 

“That’s too bad. Is it anything I’d like?” She joked and he nodded seriously. 

“Actually, yeh. I’ll send it over once I’m through. I’ve been re-reading it.” He moved his hands through the air as he spoke, so unlike his characters. She almost laughed and he smiled. 

“So, what can I do for you? You said you had some business to attend to. Sounds serious. Should I be worried?” He raised his eyebrow and crossed his legs, his hands cupped around the edge of the mattress. She tried to speak and immediately failed. Frustrated and embarrassed tears filled her eyes and she hid them by looking up at the ceiling. Cillian furrowed his brow, concerned. 

“What’s wrong?” He leaned forward on the bed and she shook her head, laughing lightly at herself. 

“I feel so incredibly stupid now for coming here.” She looked away and the bed squeaked softly as Cillian stood and joined her on the couch. She scooted over to give him some room and picked at the skin on her hands. 

“You can always come to me. Whatever it is.” He said softly and the air around them stilled with anticipation.

“Oh don’t say that, Cillian. You’re so kind…” she started to cry and tried to hide her face. 

“Fuck, I hate tears, please don’t cry! Did somet’ing happen?” He raised his hands helplessly, holding them over her without being sure what to do with them. She nodded her head slowly and hiccuped pitifully. 

“You’ll have to forgive me for my comforting abilities. I’ve never been good on t’at front and I have boys so I’m better at comforting members of the male species.” He shrugged and smiled, trying to lighten the mood. She laughed despite herself and wiped her eyes. She stood and paced the front of the trailer, knowing that it was now or never. 

“Cillian, this is such a horrible way to end your nice evening but I can’t continue on set without getting this off my chest. I hope you’ll forgive me.” She dared herself to look at him and he met her eyes, holding her eye-contact with mature resolve. 

“Of course.” He nodded softly, wrinkling his forehead, now more concerned with what his costar was going to tell him. He was naive. He assumed she was going to tell him that she couldn’t work with him anymore or that something had happened in their scenes that had made her uncomfortable. He shifted uneasily on the couch, watching her. She tried to speak a few times but exhaled and shook her head. Cillian stood and met her where she was standing. He was a good few feet taller than her and so much older, but having him there beside her made the feelings she wanted to tell him about so much stronger. 

“Cillian, this isn’t easy to say,” she looked down at her hands and then up into his clear blue eyes. “I have feelings for you, more than our professional relationship can offer. Working with you on set all this time has… it’s made my feelings so much harder to ignore, Cillian.” 

He froze and remembered to breathe, drawing in a startled breath. 

“T’at wasn’t what I was expecting you to say.” He ran his hand over his mouth and looked away, his blue eyes moving through his hidden thoughts. 

“I know you probably don’t feel the same but I just… it’s driving me mad, Cillian. It’s becoming a form of method acting that isn’t fun anymore.” She tried to laugh lightly but grimaced and put the backs of her hands against her burning cheeks. 

“Yeh…” he nodded and sighed, his eyes wide. 

She groaned and returned to the couch, sitting on her sweaty hands. 

“I can go, Cillian. I can leave if you don’t want me here anymore.” She whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. 

“No, no. We need to talk t’rough this.” He said calmly, slowly, and covered his mouth with his freckled hand. 

“Oh God, I’ve gone and fucked everything up. I’m sorry Cillian. I knew you didn’t feel the same but I still let myself go to you.” She leaned back against the couch and pulled her hands through her hair and pulled the skin back from her face. 

“Stop it. Don’t say t'at.” Cillian snapped not unkindly but sternly and took a deep breath. “See, we need to talk about t’is so we can still work together, eh?” He ran a hand through his own dark hair and looked at her for a moment, thinking. 

“How, Cillian? If you knew how I felt about you… it’s maddening. I can’t sleep, Cillian. You’re all I think about as pathetic as it sounds,” she took a deep breath, “I love you. And now you’ll hate me.” She continued and moved her hands, clasped together between her knees.

Cillian sighed and moved abruptly to her side on the couch, opening his body towards her. 

“Don’t talk for me, eh? Look, I understand. It’s hard to not develop certain er… feelings when we do what we do, right?” He cocked his head to the side and licked his lips awkwardly.

“I know I’m childish, Cillian, but I can’t help it. I’m suffering without you… without more from you, more than we can do on set.” She whined and rubbed her shoulders as if she were cold. “Can you indulge me? Do you feel even a little of what I do?” She whispered, looking deeply into his eyes. He said nothing for a second before running his hands up and down his face, exhaling loudly into his palms. He put his hands down and leaned towards her on his elbows. 

“I’m married, sweetheart. Yvonne is my wife and I love her.” He whispered softly, his hands splitting the space between them. 

“But I love you.” She whispered back and leaned in to kiss him. He allowed her to kiss him once and when she pulled away, dejected, he took her chin gently. 

“Cut the shit-delusion, sweetheart. You’re young… far too young for me. You may t’ink you love me but you don’t know me.”

He took her face in his hands and smiled sadly as tears rolled down her pink cheeks. 

“I know you’ll find someone who truly loves you. You’re a beautiful young woman who has her entire life ahead of her. I’m flattered t'at you feel t’at way about me but we can’t, I can’t. If the roles were reversed and we were married and Yvonne approached me, wouldn’t you want me to stop t’ings before t’ey went too far?” He supported her head as she dropped it slightly to the side. She felt empty of words and so he continued. 

“You’re a darling girl but you know we can’t do t’is.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb and wiped away her tears. “You need a boy your age who knows how to love you in the way you need to be loved. I only know how to love my wife… and she’s the only one who knows how to love me.”

“I could have loved you in whatever way you needed.” She whispered weakly and he smiled softly. “I know, sweetheart,” he soothed her like a father, “but you wouldn’t have been happy wit' me. You’re out of my league and you would have gotten bored of me.” He joked lightly and she allowed a pained smile to form on her lips. 

“I’m sorry, Cillian. I feel like such a fool.” She closed her eyes and he hugged her close. 

“Nah, you’re still a kid. You’re many t’ings but foolish is not one of ’em.” He squeezed her tightly and kissed her head affectionately. “You’re a good kid and a great actress. We’ll be fine, the two of us, eh?” He pulled away and she wiped her eyes dry. 

“I’ll try.”  

She kissed him briefly on the cheek and rose to her feet. She walked to the door and looked back at the actor with a small smile, the door open in front of her.

“Goodnight, Cillian.” 

He nodded from the couch. 

“Y/N?” 

“Yes?”

Cillian stood and shoved his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants, shrugging his shoulders up to his ears. 

“You weren’t the only one.... That is, you weren’t the only one who felt…” he broke off and cleared his throat, “but it's better t’is way, yeh?.... It’ll pass, love. It’ll pass.” 

He met her eyes one last time and she nodded sadly yet full of a completeness found in their mutual understanding. 

“Goodnight, Cillian.” She said again and closed the door behind her and left the trailer, walking with her back to the wind. Cillian collapsed back on the couch and looked at his watch, wondering if Yvonne was awake. She always answered his calls. She put up with everything, God bless her. She was everything and more than he deserved. He rang her up and she answered after the second ring, her voice ringed with sleepiness.

"Heya, love." He whispered with a smile, "No, everyt'ing's fine. I just wanted to call you. I miss you, girl. Yeah, yeah. Put them on."

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Horror Movies Pt. 2 | Neil Lewis x fem!reader

Summary: She shares a special passion for horror movies with her boss, Neil Lewis. But it doesn't end there, she also shares his secrets... or at least the ones he can keep himself. He's been keeping one from her but maybe a night of adventure will break the silence and scare them to their senses.

Warnings: Drinking, semi-public sex, boss/employee relationship, struggles with self-image, spying, invasion of privacy, slight disrespect for the dead, smut, moments of miscommunication and assumed consent, unprotected sex, oral, and some fluff.

word count: 3229k

Lady Grinning Soul- David Bowie 🎶

Freak- Lana Del Rey 🎵

Minors do not interact!

“What are you doing, Neil?” She whispered, not wanting to trespass. 

“Having a little adventure since our act of chivalry was all for naught.” He shrugged and smiled goofily. 

“You want to play golf?” She looked between the dark green and Neil’s face. 

“Nah, not golf.” 

She stared at him for a little while longer before ducking beneath the fence. He followed her and they started to cross the green, looking up at the star studded sky. 

“The stars are so pretty tonight.” She pointed up at the clusters of twinkling lights. 

“Wait until you see what I have to show you.” He smiled mischievously and took her wrist. He pulled her across the golf course and through the connecting gate. 

“Where are we now?” She looked around and noticed the distant groupings of headstones. “Are we in a cemetery?” 

“Bingo.” Neil laughed and let her wrist go, running ahead a little. The graveyard was cool and still, surrounded on all sides by tall shrubbery. They climbed the short hill up onto the main stretch of green, walking alongside the grave markers. 

“This feels like the beginning of a horror movie.” She recalled Neil’s previous statement from the morning and he laughed. 

“I like to come here at night. It’s so peaceful and I like to look at the people’s names. It helps put my life into perspective.” He led her to a small mausoleum beside a weeping willow and swiped his arm across his forehead. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” He gestured around and she nodded. 

“It really is but… what does this have to do with the bra?” 

“Ah, well since you can’t use it and Nancy doesn’t want it back, I thought we could leave it as an offering… here.” 

“Who do you want to give it to?” 

“Someone who died the same day that one of us was born.” He stated as he had already begun looking. She helped him and they passed the lines of headstones, checking each name for their respective birth and death dates. They wandered through a few plots until they found a secluded embankment. There was an older headstone with Neil’s birthday listed as the person’s death date. 

“Here.” Neil pointed to the numbers on the stone and smiled up at her from the ground where he was crouched. She joined him on the ground and nodded. “Edgar Allen… that’s almost too weird. It must be a fake name. Edgar Allen? He just needs a ‘Poe.’” 

She trailed her fingers over his name and nodded. 

“So, how do we do this?”

“What, are you saying that you’ve never left an expensive bra at a dead person’s grave?” He joked and she almost laughed out loud when he put his hand over her mouth, shushing her with a smile. 

“You’ll wake the dead.” He whispered and she smiled against his hand, her eyes boring into his. She hoped that her eyes were telling him what she wanted or how happy she was to be with him, even if it was in a fucking cementary. He removed his hand slowly and cleared his throat. Sweat coating his forehead, trapping a few strands of his longer dark hair. 

“We, uh, let’s just drape it over the headstone.” He put the bra over the long rectangular top of the stone. 

“We should say a few words.” She offered and cleared her throat quietly, “May I?” She glanced over at him. Neil was staring at her, his lips parted partly. 

“Uh, er, yeah. Of course.” He sniffed and looked back at the headstone. 

“Mr. Allen, we leave you this offering in hopes that you will bestow upon us the grace of your guidance and experience. Inspire us to be brave and forward with our… desires,” she couldn’t think of a better word, “Help us imagine ways of living our lives to the fullest.” She added. When she glanced over, Neil was nodding almost absentmindedly. 

“Give us a little adventure in our lives, Edgar.” He clarified. 

“Mhmm.” She hummed in agreement and they waited in silence for a few minutes, taking in the serene peacefulness of the graveyard. 

“If this were a horror movie, we would be-” She broke the silence but the force of Neil’s body cut her off. He’d kissed her, his hands snaking behind her head and pulling her into an aggressive kiss. She pulled away breathlessly, he was panting too.

“What-” She started.

“I’m sorry, christ. I thought you were… sending me a signal.” He stumbled over his words. 

“You thought I was asking you to make a move on top of someone’s grave?” She raised a suspicious eyebrow and he chuckled, embarrassed. 

“I don’t know what I was thinking. I just… oh I don’t know.” He trailed off and stood, putting his hands back into his pocket and turning away from the grave. She followed him quickly. 

“What, Neil?” She stumbled after him, up the embankment. He spun around and held a hand against his head.

“I just… I thought that lately there was something different between us.” He looked away. 

“Neil…” she frowned and fought the anger in her voice, “you just fucked someone last night. I don’t know if I should believe anything that you’re saying right now.” She crossed her arms across her chest and looked up at the sky. 

“I, well we didn’t actually… have sex.” He mumbled. 

“What do you mean?” She raised her eyebrow. 

“God, this is so fucking embarrassing,” he pulled down on his face and trilled his lips. 

“What, what is it?” He nearly smiled, finding him too funny to take seriously. 

“Well, she came into the store right before closing last night and put on this whole act about which movie to pick… kind of like the girl in the store today. I told her to pick Arsenic and Old Lace… yada yada yada, she ends up flirting and leaning over the counter, batting her eyelashes at me. I’ll admit that I succumbed to her but as soon as she got me on the couch, she started… eh slapping me and calling me a bad boy and look, I totally get kinks but it was a little too weird for me.” 

“So what happened?” She encouraged him to go on and he looked back at her, his heart fluttering in his chest. He sighed and looked at his feet. 

“We watched the movie and the whole time she wouldn’t stop talking, so she missed basically everything. And when the movie was over, she started kissing me and undressing herself. And when she got my pants down, I couldn’t get it up. So, that’s what happened.” 

She gasped and immediately clamped a hand over her mouth.

“I’m sorry. It isn’t funny, Neil,” she apologized but he shook his head. “Whatever, go ahead and laugh. I don’t know how it happened but I just wasn’t attracted to her. I don’t need a girl who’s a film geek like me but I can’t stand people who just talk through a movie or pay absolutely no attention to what’s happening. There’s not point in putting it on if you’re not going to pay attention. And not to mention she looked-” He cut himself off and chucked. 

“What?” She waited for him to finish but he shook his head. 

“It’s silly.” He sniffed. 

“We’ve already gotten this far, you might as well tell me.” 

He cocked his head, staring at her face in the faded light of the crescent moon. He inhaled deeply and told her, point blank. 

“She looked like you,” he took another breath, “she looked like you but she was nothing like you. I realized that I was only humoring her because she looked like you and for some reason, my subconscious had tricked me into thinking she was you. And after that, I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He watched her for her reaction and she exhaled shakily, not knowing how to respond. 

“What happened after that?” She asked quietly. 

“I told her that it wasn’t a good night and she packed up. In the heat of the moment, she must have forgotten her bra but look,” he took a step closer, “that doesn’t mean our relationship needs to change. It's not like I’m in love with you or obsessed, I just realized that the person that I was really attracted to this whole time has been you.” He looked down into her eyes. “I didn’t have time to explain it this morning and I knew how it looked so…” He shrugged, “I actually haven’t slept with anyone in weeks. Ever since you got the haircut actually, I guess I haven’t stopped thinking about you whether or not I was conscious of it.” 

“Jonathan asked me out.” Was all she could think to say and Neil chuckled lightly. 

“That’s a minor detail.”

“He’s one of your best friends.” 

“And because he’s one of my best friends, he’ll understand why I’m doing this.” 

“What if I don’t like you back?” She narrowed her eyes, wanting to stand her ground a little longer. He took one more step closer, their feet almost touching and he leaned over slightly, his breath brushing her forehead.

“Do you like me?” He asked softly. 

“I don’t know,” she lied. He brushed his lips against hers. 

“Do you want to find out?” He teased her and her breath caught, nearly choking her. She couldn’t speak from the nerves paralyzing her, so she just nodded. He rubbed his lips against her lips, not kissing her yet. She brushed her nose against the soft spot of skin below his nose and above his lip, standing on the balls of her feet. Her hands came up and stopped midair, unsure how or where to touch him. Turning his head slightly to the side he kissed her. His hands went from the top of her thighs to her waist and then up to her neck, which he held in place while he moved his head to kiss her. He stood still and reciprocated his slow kisses as best as she could. She put her hands on the outside of his and wrapped her fingers around each wrist. He sucked on her lip and she let her head fall back, giving him a better angle. She stumbled back a little and he caught her in his arms, his lips never skipping a beat as he sucked her and explored her. 

“Are we going to fuck in a graveyard?” She panted, pulling herself away from his hungry mouth. Neil smiled and looked around at the deserted cemetery, empty with the exception of the dead. He shrugged. 

“Do you think they’ll hold it against us? Haunt us for the rest of our lives?” She smiled.

“Are you kidding? They’re probably dying for a show.” He cracked himself up over his own pun and she rolled her eyes affectionately. She kissed him again before he could make another joke and pulled him into the alcove of a mausoleum. There was a stone casket beside the mausoleum and they stumbled over to it, wordlessly deciding to fuck against it. He pressed her back up against the cold stone which felt amazing in the humid summer air. He groped her breasts and she slid a hand down Neil’s chest below the waistband of his jeans. She reached her hand into his underwear and took a hold of his hard cock. She smiled against his lips. 

“It obviously wasn’t a problem this time, was it?” She teased and he groaned, looking up at the sky. 

“No, no, it wasn’t.” He laughed breathlessly as she rubbed her hand down his length, twisting her palm at the end. He went back to kissing her but broke off to whine and pant occasionally as she jerked him off. She pulled her hand back out and spat on it before returning it back into his pants. She fondled his balls and squeezed them, making him gasp against her lips. He reached a hand up her camisole and wrestled his hand beneath her bra. He was definitely a breast man. 

She removed her hand from his pants and pulled his pelvis against her by looping her fingers through his belt loops. With his free hand, Neil unbuttoned her jeans and unzipped the fly. She did the same for his jeans and turned around, sticking her butt against his hard crotch. 

“Fuck…” Neil looked at her ass and felt himself get even harder. He pulled her back against him by holding her shoulder. He kissed her bare neck and carded his hands through her cropped hair. “You’re so beautiful.” He whispered and she sighed softly. At that moment, she felt infinitely beautiful, so beautiful that it would last a lifetime. He pulled down his pants slightly and glanced around before bending her over again. She pulled down her jeans and rubbed her underwear against him like before. She held her hands flat against the stone casket monument and opened her mouth, nearly moaning in anticipation of Neil’s cock inside her. He slowly rolled down her underwear, the hipster style that covered her butt. They were white, ironically. 

Exposing her ass, he moaned and reached around to her cunt and rubbed her clit. 

“God, fuck me already, Neil.” She pleaded and he nodded. 

“Are you wet enough? I don’t have a condom.” 

“I’m soaking wet, Neil. Don’t worry about the condom. It’s ok with me.” 

“Ok, ok.” He smiled and spat on his hand, rubbing the saliva over her folds. Then he did it again, smearing his spit on his own cock. She gasped loudly when he pushed his tip inside her. He grabbed her hips and tried to stop himself from rutting into her. 

“Fuck, go slow… you’re so big.” She whimpered and moaned as he slowly pushed further in. He gasped pitifully and resisted the urge to cum immediately like a schoolboy. 

“Jesus, you feel so good.” He panted and watched as his cock went further inside her. She clutched her uterus, trying to allow him to enter her. He whined as she did so and gave a few tiny thrusts. 

“Ah, ahh.” He moaned weakly and started to fuck her more regularly, feeling her walls begin to mold around him. “Oh fuck, its so good.” He pulled her hips against him with a harder thrust and she cried out softly, her hands sweating against the stone. As she became wetter, he slid in and out faster, hitting the bottom of her uterus each time. 

“Jesus, Neil!” She moaned and pushed herself against him, wanting him further inside. 

“I can’t go any farther, honey. You’re not big enough.” He whispered against her neck and continued to fuck her with the same primal sexuality as a dog in heat. She hummed to keep herself from screaming out. 

“Fuck yes, this is so good.” He praised her and went faster, his pale legs shaking with pleasure. He felt like he was losing his virginity all over again, needing to come already and they had just started. He pulled out and spun her around to kiss her, his hand holding her chin up to reciprocate his kiss. He switched places with him and pushed him onto the ground where he was sitting on the grass. She kicked off her jeans and underwear, still in her shoes and socks and straddled him. He whimpered as she lowered herself onto him and sat completely on him. She shifted her hips back and forth, wanting him to stay completely inside her. His back was against the stone. When she started to feel her orgasm approaching he started to move up and down, snapping on top of his cock in quick movements that made them both cry out.

“Mmmm, fuck…” Neil panted and looked up at her, studying how her head fell back and her neck arched out towards him. He looked down and watched how her cunt took him, so wet that precum dribbled down his cock onto his pubic hair. 

“Um, God, Neil, I’m gonna cum.” She panted and he smiled. 

“Come here,” he wrapped his arms around her and turned her around again, laying her flat on her back on the grass and thrusted into her again. She gasped and clutched a handful of grass above her head. She wrapped her thighs around his waist and he sat on his knees, pulling her up to meet him. He fucked her hard and fast, pounding his pelvis against hers. The muscles in his butt clenched as he fucked her desperately. She covered her mouth and cried out in pleasure. She squirted but he continued to fuck her, chasing his own high. 

“I’m so close.” He panted and ran his hand down her chin. She looked so beautiful below him, mouth still slightly agape in a pleasurable ‘O’ shape. “Fuck! Oh my God.” He cried and pulled out quickly so that he wouldn’t cum inside her. She rolled over and sucked him off, allowing him to fuck her throat weakly as he finally spilled him cum down her throat. She rolled her tongue around his cock and licked the tip as he pulled out, panting like he had just run a race. He collapsed beside her on the ground and laughed in disbelief. She laughed too, covering her face with her hands. 

“Fucking hell.” She laughed into her hands. “That was the best I ever had,” she admitted and he smiled proudly. 

“Honestly it was mine too, and my first time in a cemetery, I’ll admit.” 

“What, you’re saying to don’t fuck all your girlfriends here?” She teased and he shook his head, rolling it side to side on the ground. A pleasant silence settled between them as they caught their breath. She tried to ignore the fact that she mentioned girlfriends. Neil flopped his head to the side and watched her, her long eyelashes fluttering as she blinked. 

“Is that what you are now?” He asked.

“Am I what?”

“Are you my girlfriend now?” He clarified with a small smirk. 

“Is that your way of asking me to be your girlfriend?” She laughed and looked away.

“No…” He rolled on top of her and kissed her all over her face, “this is my way of asking. Will… you… be… my… girlfriend?” He asked between feverish kisses. She giggled and propped herself up on her elbows, kissing him back. He slowed his kisses down and she pulled away with a happy sigh. 

“I guess so.” She said finally and he raised his shoulder to his ears, looking around in childish glee.

“Oh, come on!” She pushed him playfully away and stood. He helped her change back into her clothes and they fixed their clothing. She combed through Neil’s hair with her fingers and nodded her approval. Neil looked down at his watch and nodded. 

“The store opens in exactly seven hours, whatever will we do with our time?” He wrapped his arms around her, clamping her arms against her sides and kissing her neck. 

“I have an idea.” She smiled around his kisses.

“What?” 

“Take me home.” 

“What if you’re a serial killer?” He faked a sense of suspicion. 

“Then I guess we’ll just have to find out.” She teased and kissed him deeply, her index finger pressed against the hollow of his cheek.