#Nolanverse Jonathan crane imagine

[madame-fear]

Omg… You know how everyone in the Batman trilogy was (understandably) terrified of DK!Jonathan Crane? How do you think Soft Yandere!Jonathan would react to Y/n, a hostage (who was in the wrong place at the wrong time, not involved in anything bad🤷‍♀️), is scared BUT accidentally says out loud, “Wow that’s hot” out loud in reaction to Jonathan/Scarecrow?😂🤭 And when he hears this and his attention is now in her, she’s like, “Oh dear lord did I say that out loud???”🤦‍♀️🥲 This would definitely awaken Yandere Jonathan lol😳

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA YES!!!!!!! ❤ I think he'd be shocked, but deep down inside he'd actually love it 🤭💕

sorry if this is a bit shorter than usual dear!! hope you enjoy your reading! 🥰 (p.s: also, i'm finishing pt 2 of Lovestruck! ;w;)

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Gotham City was a terribly dangerous place to walk alone at night, especially for young ladies like you. Unluckily, you had the misfortune of being captured by someone while you were walking back to your home after finishing your work shift.

Slowly blinking a few times, you gently opened your eyes. Your head felt dizzy, as it was spinning around, and the pain you felt was stinging and awfully aching, causing you to quietly groan. Confused, you began looking at your surroundings, absolutely clueless about where you were. It seemed to be an old, dark, abandoned building. Nervousness suddenly began increasing when you realised you were kidnapped, and that your life was currently in danger.

You tried to speak, but it was in vain; your mouth was tightly covered by a piece of cloth. Perhaps, you had no other choice, but accept your faith. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath, immediatly sighing once you heard gentle footsteps coming from behind of you. In a harsh move, the cloth was removed from your mouth, causing you to gasp and quickly open your eyes, immediatly guiding themselves to look up at your kidnapper; only to find a tall man in a suit, and with a brown burlap bag in his head.

Despite the bag in his head, you could still see his beautiful blue eyes through it. "If you make a sound, I'll have no choice but put the cloth back in your mouth." He said sternly, you could only nod. You couldn't possibly be attracted to your kidnapper – no, but there was something about him that quite intrigued you. "You're such a cute pretty face, you're perfect for my experiments. You'll look even more prettier with your eyes full of terror and fear." He traced your jawline with his cold fingertips, causing you to get shivers down your spine and gulp. You felt your heart drop with fear, causing your lips to quiver and body to tremble. Before saying anything else, he looked deep into your eyes, admiring your beauty. He was proud of himself for such fine selection of a young lady for his experiments with fear.

He released his fingers from your jawline, and suddenly took off the burlap bag from his head. You were certainly stunned with his looks: dark, messy short hair, clear blue eyes, and a sharp jawline. You shouldn't feel attracted to your kidnapper, and hell, you didn't even know what he was about to do with you, but no one couldn't deny the fact that he was incredibly attractive and enigmatic. You carefully observed all his actions as he suddenly taked a syringe with a clear liquid out of his pocket, removing it's lid.

The way he observed the liquid inside the syringe so focused on it made him look even hotter, especially with the fact that his dark hair was messy because he harshly removed the bag from his head. The thoughts of all the endless possibilities of what he could do with that syringe suddenly evaporated, your mind focusing on his stunning features. "Wow, that's hot." You mindlessly and breathlessly muttered. He quickly stopped what he was doing, and suddenly turned all his attention to you. Did you just call him...hot?

The whole world stopped around him. He wasn't supposed to be attractive to anyone! Were you being serious, or just trying to distract him? Turning his head around to look at you, his eyebrows were raised out of confusion. "Shit, did I say that out loud?" Gulping in nervousness, you realised your mistake at the sight of him with his eyes widen, and his cheeks with a faint rosyness on them. A soft smile began forming on his lips, and tilted his head to his side. "You did." You swore you had bitten your lip so harshly, that you could taste a bit of your own blood slightly dripping. "I guess I never thought of myself as 'hot', so thank you for the compliment, my dear." Another reason for him to be proud of himself is for being so good at keeping his shit on the outside, even when in the inside he was losing his shit.

A pretty girl like you referring to him as 'hot'? That's new to him, but he's thrilled at the thought of getting used to it. His heart fluttered with many new feelings he never felt before, the idea of using you for his fear experiments didn't feel right; he felt...merciful and uncapable of harming you, now. You were afraid that he might have not enjoyed that as much as he should, but oh how wrong you were. After a few long seconds of staring at the nothingness itself and not saying anything, he looked you again, with a smile on his face. "I shouldn't do this to you." What? This was very unlike him, you certainly had an effect on his way of thinking.

All the new feelings collapsed in both his heart and his mind. A growing need of having you by his side and getting to know just who you were began increasing as seconds passed. You were too precious to be gone anywhere else. "I'm going to release you, but you won't be going anywhere, you're staying in here with me. Promise me, not to make a scandal after I release you." You were confused at the whole situation, but you still nodded in agreement. Wasn't he going to kill or experiment something on you just a few minutes ago? Oh well, you weren't complaining. You didn't mind at all if you had to stay with him for a while.

He untied the cloth that was now around your neck, throwing it randomly to his side. He walked behind of you, and began to untie the ropes that so badly tightened both your hands and legs; the burning sensation you felt around your limbs right where the ropes were tightened, made you sure that they were going to leave some bruises or marks. You immediatly lifted yourself from the chair where you were previously sitting, your whole body stiff from the uncomfortable position you were in. "T-Thank you for sparing me." You managed to shyly and quietly mutter, as you turned around only to meet his soul-piercing blue eyes.

Slowly walking towards you, he left no gap in between your bodies. He raised his hand, only to caress your cheek with the back of his index finger, provoking a smirk on his beautiful face. How he loved the thought of you praising him and being so thankful for him sparing your life.

"No need to thank me, my dear. All you need to do, is promise me you won't leave me, and that you'll behave." Admiring your precious, delicate face, a spark of need for your whole attention and love increased inside of him. With you, he realised how long he's been craving for the type of affection you just gave him, even with a simple small compliment. He was going to make sure you had only eyes for him, and that you'll never, ever leave his side.

[scarecrowismybabygirl]

Professor Crane working on his fear toxin

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

God made girls lethal, when he made monsters of men.

Jonathan Crane x psycho!reader PART TWO

PART ONE

warnings - blood, gore, attempted sexual assault, death.

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN - request here

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You’re sessions with Jonathan began to dwindle. No matter how much you screamed, bit, scratched and attacked the other shrinks, demanding to see Jonathan, no one would let you. Always claiming that he had other patients he deemed more severe.

“BULLSHIT!” You screamed. If he wanted dangerous, boy, was he gonna get dangerous.

That was how Jonathan Crane sauntered down the hall and into your cell where he saw you, straight jacket on, strapped down to a wooden chair, held by three guards. Your smile dribbled blood out of your red mouth.

“There are easier ways to get my attention than biting off a guy’s ear.” He sounded almost bored and this made you whimper.

“Well they clearly weren’t working as I asked for you a million times and you NEVER CAME!” Your voice rose into a shrill scream for the last words. But he didn’t even flinch. Instead he kneeled down in front of your shaking form and stroked your soft cheek.

“Now, now darling. There, there. I haven’t been a very good psychiatrist have I?”

“No.” You softly whimpered out.

“No. I’ve been neglecting you haven’t I?" He cooed. Your body softened at his caring words. You meekly nodded.

The guards around you were confused but one sharp glare from Jonathan shut them up and they daren’t look at your intimate moment any longer.

From then on, Jonathan allowed the two of you to have weekly meetings. But they weren’t designed to analyse you, but rather to court you.

He would come and sit down with you and you would talk for hours. About movies, books, games etc.

Some days he would bring you little treats. Secret chocolates, a teddy bear. One day he even brought a hairbrush and he sat behind you and the whole session consisted of him lightly brushing out the tangled locks of your unkept mane. No words were said. But it was ecstacy.

Your favourite gift was when he presented you with a white rose.

“What are those red splotches?” You enquired looking at the streaks which littered the pure base.

“You see I cut myself on the thorn and some dropped on the rose. I was going to get you a new one but I couldn’t help but be so intrigued by it. It really adds something, don’t you think?”

In lieu of a reply you merely reached forward and grabbed his hand where you could see the healing scar. Without breaking his gaze you leant forward and took the whole finger into your mouth. Jonathan struggled to hold back a moan as you salivated at the still iron taste.

In his time with you, Jonathan had noted the keen interest some of the male guards had in you. He sometimes laughed it off believing their stupidity knew no bounds if they were willing to take you on. But he couldn’t help but worry for you.

“God I wouldn’t mind taking a bit of that ass.”

“Are you serious dude? That bitch is crazy. Proper stone cold psychopath.”

“Don’t worry, she’s being sedated well enough, or at least she will be soon. She won’t give us any problems.”

Jonathan overheard the guards from the outside of the break room door.

Since meeting you he had become enraptured. Enchanted by your very being. He viewed you as the most sacred relic he could ever dare to possess. He knew your strength was unimaginable. But you were his. And no one messed with his Queen.

One day you were being transported from your session with Jonathan, who had now deemed it fit to have the sessions in his office rather than your cell. The two guards, who flanked your sides, spoke over you in silent code. Once they had deemed the corridor completely empty. They grabbed your sides, still held in the straight jacket, and began to drag you towards an abandoned closet. Taking your pants and underwear off on the way. Their intentions clearly immoral.

It took you by such surprise that you barely had time to react. You were not used to being manhandled but the shock of the moment meant you couldn’t clear your head enough to launch a good enough attack.

Before the three of you were over the doors precipice, a loud voice announced their exit from their office.

Jonathan called out to ask the two men a question, to which they responded after manoeuvring you out of a compromising position. He shot you a single glance before explaining how he would prefer to walk you back to your cell as well, as, in his words,

“I don’t want her to give you any problems.” with a knowing glint in his eye.

That night the two same guards were summoned to your cell.

They stood to the side of where you sat slumped in your chair. The previous encounter had scarred you and weakened your own sense of self. They were just men, you had killed them before. Why was it so hard now. What was this weak feeling and why did it make you want to scream.

However, your self-sabotaging thoughts were halted the minute Jonathan’s lean frame entered. His soft smile landed on your frame which appeared to have shrunk in the presence of the two guards. This lit a fire deep within his heart.

He brought his briefcase up to the table and popped it open. He pulled out a macabre clown mask, decorated with black and red. He walked forward, whistling as he went, and placed it on your face. You were unable to resist, but deep down you didn’t want to. You trusted Jonathan.

He returned to his briefcase, sat down, took off his glasses, and looked deep into your eyes.

“Would you like to see my mask.” He condescendingly teased.

He pulled out a ratty burlap sack which you noted had stitching which resembled a face. He placed it on his head and immediately pressed a hidden button which released a sulphuric green gas into the air. It was then you noted the breathing device attached to your own mask.

Jonathan bared his knuckles on the table and used it to raise himself into a godlike stance.

You were startled by the bloodcurdling screams which erupted from the two men behind you. You whipped around to see them collapse to the floor, writhing about in pain. Both looking and pointing up at Jonathan in pure god-fearing terror.

Suddenly, they both seized. Their last moments of fear etched onto their faces like stone. Their hearts had gone.

You tilted your head to look down, interestedly, at the two corpses. You turned back around when you felt a presence at your back.

Jonathan stood over you, masked and all. His hand outreached.

“Scarecrow will never hurt you, my love.”

You carefully lifted up your own mask to reveal a teeth-chattering grin plastered over your sadistic expression.

*************************

PART THREE

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994 @bearchermer @idkyoutellmesmh @mimimarvelingmarvel @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @neotanpopper @deliriouslybi @folklorde24 @thefandomdiaries07 @viarosemcmissile @noirrose21-blog @thepoeticfirefly @xoxo-gothic-girl @skeletonwrite @jellyzelek @kaylamarie306-blog @bloodcanbehot @lazybot @raineeace @thearieunhinged @multifans-things @queenofterrasen418 @bey0ndne0 @justanotherkpopstanlol @iamliterallyspidergwen @frozenhuntress67 @alice2612 @slut4thebroken @akiratoro420 @astheni-a

[nocturnest]

The y/n that nervously asks if she can marry Jonathan instead of death or exile, would be the opposite of Jonathan, she’s shy and sweet, and Jonathan would find her puppy dog eyes to be so cute that he can’t help himself but to agree which is why he’s just like, “Hmm. Interesting. Why not”

@kpopgirlbtssvt This is one of my absolute favorites now! ahhh! please enjoy!

In the dimly lit chamber of an abandoned courthouse, Jonathan Crane, Gotham's infamous Scarecrow, held court with an air of authority that sent shivers down the spines of those gathered before him. The room buzzed with nervous anticipation as citizens awaited their fates, their faces drawn with fear and uncertainty.

You, amidst the sea of anxious onlookers, found yourself unable to contain a nervous laugh as the tension in the room weighed heavily on you. You were on trial for attempting to steal from the city's food stash, which Bane had accumulated for criminals and the like. It wasn't exactly your fault - you were desperate. You just wish you hadn't been so foolish to have gotten caught.

As you were shoved into a brown leatherback chair, you observed your surroundings. Criminals of all kinds gave you harsh looks of disgust and disapproval. They looked practically ravenous and hungry for a new form of entertainment, which some of them had found in you. Their attention made you uncomfortable.

You gazed up at the stand and your eyes widened in surprise. You'd heard rumors, to be sure, but you had never seen Jonathan Crane in person. And even from afar, you could see the bright blues of his eyes, like a beacon of hope in this horrendous situation that you found yourself in.

He looked bored, glasses in his hand as he cleaned its lenses. A lackey of his taps him on the shoulder and Jonathan rolls his eyes, putting his glasses on to read the papers in front of him.

He clears his throat and announces your name, which sends shivers down your spine. His voice was gravelly and hoarse from yelling yet calming all the same. You find yourself wishing you had met him under other circumstances.

"Guilty of attempting to steal food from the people of Gotham. Now what will it be, Death or Exile?"

"Isn't there another option?! I mean...can't I just marry you instead?" you blurted out, the words escaping your lips before you could stop them. Your attempt at humor was feeble, a desperate bid to lighten the oppressive atmosphere.

To your surprise, Jonathan's sharp gaze snapped in your direction, his pale blue eyes glittering with intrigue. "Hmm, interesting. Why not?" he responded, his voice carrying an unexpected hint of amusement.

Your heart skipped a beat at his unexpected reply, your mind reeling with disbelief. Surely he couldn't be serious. But, before you could gather your thoughts, Jonathan pressed on with his characteristic bluntness. "Would you rather death or exile?" he inquired, his tone matter-of-fact yet oddly playful.

Caught off guard by his question, you stumbled over your words, unable to form a coherent response. "...No," you managed to mumble, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Great," Jonathan exclaimed, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes, "Exile! By marriage."

With a swift motion of his gavel, Jonathan sealed your fate. He beckoned you forward with a wave of his hand, his expression betraying a hint of sly amusement.

You padded across the room cautiously as a wave of confusion swept across the spectators, who watched in bewilderment as Jonathan Crane orchestrated an impromptu wedding ceremony in the midst of what was supposed to be a trial. As you approached the judge's area, the whispers of the onlookers swirled around you like a whirlwind of uncertainty.

Jonathan took your hand in his. It was soft and warm. The emotions in his face were guarded but you could see what seemed like sympathy in his eyes, as if he knew you knew how you were feeling - with being married to a complete stranger and all that.

Though, you weren't entirely complaining...Jonathan was much taller up close and practically towered over you. Not to mention, he was quite attractive. His eyes were as clear as ocean waters and his brown hair looked so soft that you fought the urge to run your hands through it. His suit was tattered and feathers were sewn into it, its cut tailored remarkably well to his figure.

As you stood beside Jonathan, his grip firm yet oddly comforting, he began to recite the vows with a surprising eloquence. His voice, smooth and commanding, filled the room as he spoke of love, commitment, and partnership. You found yourself mesmerized by his words, drawn into the enchanting rhythm of his speech.

As the ceremony continued, you couldn't help but marvel at the absurdity of the situation. Here you were, standing in a courtroom turned makeshift wedding chapel, about to marry a man you barely knew—all under the watchful eyes of a room full of criminals.

And yet, despite the unconventional circumstances, there was something undeniably captivating about Jonathan. His confidence, his intelligence, his sheer audacity—all combined to form an irresistible allure that left you spellbound.

As Jonathan pronounced you husband and wife, a sense of disbelief washed over you. You stole a glance at him, unable to suppress the awe flickering in your eyes. How could one man possess so many talents, wear so many hats? Psychologist, villain, minister, judge—each role seemed incongruous with the next, and yet, Jonathan Crane embodied them all with effortless grace.

As the ceremony concluded, Jonathan flashed you a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes sparkled with mischief as if he knew the effect he had on you. You gave him a shy smile in return.

Your brief moment of peace was interrupted by Bane, who had a foreboding presence about him. He was large, and the breathing mask that masked most of his face intimidated you.

Suprisingly, he seemed to be in good spirits, his deep voice booming, "Now is a time for celebration! Let the newlyweds have the day off and trials shall commence again tomorrow."

As Bane's booming voice echoed through the room, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. With the trials postponed, you and Jonathan were free to escape the chaos of the courtroom and retreat to the sanctuary of his world.

Jonathan led you out of the courtroom, his hand warm against yours as he guided you through the labyrinthine corridors of the building. As you stepped out into the crisp night air, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the back of your mind. Bane's presence had cast a shadow over the proceedings, his intimidating figure a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows of Gotham.

But as you climbed into Jonathan's car and he started the engine, the tension began to melt away. The warmth of the car enveloped you, cocooning you in a sense of security as Jonathan navigated the familiar streets of the city.

As Jonathan drove you through the bustling streets of Gotham, you couldn't help but get lost in your thoughts. What now?

Jonathan's voice broke the silence, his tone gentle yet reassuring. "You're safe now," he said, his gaze flickering to meet yours briefly before returning to the road ahead. "I'll make sure of that."

You offered him a grateful smile, though the weight of the situation still hung heavy in the air between you. The thought of being married to Jonathan—albeit in name only—was both exhilarating and daunting. You couldn't deny the attraction you felt towards him, the magnetic pull that seemed to draw you closer with each passing moment.

As you arrived at Jonathan's surprisingly luxurious apartment, you couldn't help but be impressed by the opulence of his surroundings. The spacious living room was bathed in warm light, casting soft shadows across the elegant furnishings.

The warm glow of the lights bathed the room in a comforting ambiance, momentarily easing the tension that still lingered in the air.

Jonathan led you further into the apartment, his demeanor calm and collected as he gestured for you to take a seat on the plush sofa. As you settled in, he turned to face you, his expression thoughtful.

"Listen," Jonathan began, his voice gentle yet firm, "about what happened back there... The marriage isn't official unless I make it so. I don't have to, but only if you want me to."

You blinked, taken aback by his words. "But why would you even consider it?" you asked, confusion evident in your tone.

Jonathan's lips curled into a sly smile as he tilted his head, his gaze piercing yet playful. "Ah, now that's the question, isn't it?" he replied, his voice laced with intrigue. "Why were you so ready to marry me, hm?"

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as Jonathan's playful gaze seemed to penetrate straight through you. "I... I don't know," you stammered, feeling completely out of your depth. "I mean, it was just a joke... I didn't think you'd actually..."

Jonathan chuckled softly, his laughter echoing in the quiet apartment. "Perhaps it was more than just a joke," he mused, his tone teasing yet strangely sincere. "After all, why else would you propose marriage to a man you barely know?"

You shifted uncomfortably under his scrutinizing gaze, unable to meet his eyes. "I... I guess I was just caught up in the moment," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "You're... you're not like anyone I've ever met before. And when you looked at me in the court, I don't know, something just... clicked."

Jonathan's expression softened, a hint of warmth creeping into his eyes. "You find me intriguing, don't you?" he observed, his voice low and measured. "Admit it, there's something about me that draws you in."

You swallowed hard, unable to deny the truth of his words. "Yes," you whispered, your admission hanging in the air between you. "Yes, there is."

A knowing smile tugged at the corners of Jonathan's lips as he reached out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face. "Then perhaps this marriage isn't such a far-fetched idea after all," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the soft hum of the city outside. "But only if you want it to be real."

Jonathan's fingers lingered on your cheek, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. You could feel the weight of his gaze, as if he was searching your soul for answers.

Taking a deep breath, you mustered the courage to speak. "I don't know what I want," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I do know that being with you feels... different. Exciting, even."

A soft smile graced Jonathan's lips, his eyes reflecting a mixture of understanding and something else, something deeper. "Then let's take it one step at a time," he suggested, his tone gentle yet reassuring.

You couldn't help but return his smile, feeling a sense of warmth spreading through you at his suggestion. "Dinner sounds wonderful" you replied, your voice tinged with anticipation.

~

Jonathan was methodical in the kitchen. You insisted on helping him, but he assured you he could manage. Rather, Jonathan urged you to explore his bookcases after hearing you mention that you enjoyed reading.

He directed you to the room that he considered his library. At which you muttered, "Of course, you have a library." He merely grinned at that. Even though you had just met the man, the room seemed so remarkably him.

The library was a reflection of Jonathan Crane's meticulous nature and intellectual depth. As you stepped into the room, your eyes were immediately drawn to the hundreds of books lining the shelves, meticulously organized by genre and subject matter. There were classics, modern literature, and an extensive collection of texts on psychology, each spine neatly aligned in perfect rows.

The air was imbued with the scent of aged paper and leather bindings, creating an atmosphere of quiet reverence. Soft light filtered through the windows, casting a warm glow over the room and illuminating the countless volumes that filled the space.

You ran your fingers along the spines of the books, marveling at the wealth of knowledge contained within their pages. Your gaze lingered on a particular title, Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoevsky, a classic novel that seemed to echo the complexities of the world you found yourself in. You had read it countless times before. You, like Raskolnikov, had found yourself on trial for criminal acts, except that stealing food and committing flat-out murder, like Raskolnikov had, weren't exactly comparable. Nevertheless, his story of redemption and overcoming guilt after such an act continually resonated with you.

You settled into a chair and found yourself whisked away into the novel. Lost in thought, you barely noticed Jonathan's presence until you felt his eyes on you. Turning, you found him leaning against the doorway, his expression unreadable yet open and somehow inviting. There was a quiet intensity in his gaze as he watched you.

You marked your page with a spare slip of paper you found in your pocket (rather than dog-earing the antique book like a heathen) and felt Jonathan's gaze upon you.

"Find anything interesting?" he asked, his voice quiet yet filled with genuine curiosity.

You turned to face him, holding up the copy of Crime and Punishment. "Just considering some light reading," you replied with a hint of amusement, feeling a warmth spreading through you at his presence.

Jonathan chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "An excellent choice," he remarked, stepping further into the room to join you. "Dostoevsky certainly had a way of delving into the depths of human nature."

You nodded, feeling a sense of camaraderie in your shared appreciation for literature. "It's fascinating how universal and timeless his insights are," you mused, trailing your fingers along the rows of books.

Jonathan's gaze softened as he watched you, his expression thoughtful. "Indeed," he agreed, his voice tinged with a hint of what might have been nostalgia. "There's a certain comfort in knowing that some truths remain constant, no matter the passage of time."

He reaches his hand out, inviting you to join him for dinner. You place your hand in his. You and him discuss your lives and interests over dinner and it feels like you have always known each other.

~

It's late. You don't quite know what time it is, and all you do know is you can't sleep. Rain patters on the windows of what is now your room. You have a nice view and notice that the city is less lit than usual. It seems that most people have either fled or gone into hiding, if they haven't already been taken by Bane's men.

You can't help but feel unease. Maybe it's the whole situation, or being in the menacing presence of Bane, even if only for a short time. But you can't help thinking about your apartment or the friends you haven't seen in months. You wonder if the elderly neighbor of yours who you often check on and her cat are alright.

You pad through the room feeling chilly. You pull on the sleeves of your sweatshirt. Jonathan gave you some of his clothes in the meantime, or at least until you both can stop by your apartment for your things. You're thankful for him being so accommodating but have a small internal voice that tells you that you're intruding, that you're a burden to him.

As you approach Jonathan's room, you hesitate at the doorway, feeling a sense of guilt for even considering disturbing his sleep. But then you remember the kindness he's shown you, the way he's gone out of his way to make you feel safe and comfortable. With a soft sigh, you push open the door and step inside.

Jonathan stirs from his slumber as you enter, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours. His hair is tousled and his eyes are like beacons in the night. There's a moment of silence as he takes in your presence, his gaze softening with understanding.

"Can't sleep?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, unable to find the words to express the turmoil swirling within you.

Without hesitation, Jonathan lifts the covers beside him, inviting you to join him. "Come," he says gently, his expression warm and inviting. "You're not intruding. I want you here."

You hesitate for a moment, your shyness holding you back. But the offer of comfort is too tempting to resist. With a grateful smile, you slide into bed beside him, feeling the warmth of his embrace enveloping you like a protective shield against the darkness outside.

As you nestle against him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulls you into a sense of peace you haven't felt in a long time. And as you drift off to sleep in his arms, you can't help but feel a glimmer of hope amidst the chaos that surrounds you.

@kiss-me-cill-me hope you enjoy this take on the dark knight rises court scene!

[red-riding-wood]

Yellow Light

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x F!Reader

Summary: Jonathan is your guide as you escape Arkham Asylum.

Based off the song "Yellow Light" by Of Monsters and Men (original version here and acoustic version here). This song is really special to me and helped me brave my heart surgery in August. A lot of this fic is a projection of my own experiences, trauma, and health issues over the past several years -- but Arkham can represent absolutely anything you want it to that you or the character is trying to escape.

Song lyrics are in bold.

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, depictions of PTSD (hospital trauma specifically), drug addiction/use, psychosis, hallucinations, fear of death, blood.

Will also use similar themes to my upcoming series "Darkness Until Dawn" and OC Cassie Hart but this is a standalone x reader fic.

I also feel like Crane might come across a bit OOC in this fic because he's in an established relationship with the reader and he's in a comforting role, but I promise I have some very fucked-up stuff for him coming up where he's an absolute menace.

WC: 3309

Sounds of Hell threaded themselves into the night air. Howling, bleating, baying down the streets. Whispering thoughts of death into your ears. Thoughts that formed into icy talons that raked down your spine, that stirred goosebumps along the bare flesh of your arms. That froze you in place, your heart slamming against your ribs as they tethered you to the cold concrete like vines.

Frantic looks cast to your left, to your right, you turned, stumbling over your own feet as you whirled, the darkness of each alleyway sinking into your soul. Staring back at you as if to say, you cannot escape me.

I’m looking for a place to start. Everything feels so different now.

Which way was out? Which way was back there? Back to the dingy halls of Arkham, the acrid stench of spoiled cafeteria food, the howling of patients that still seemed to echo back to you from the alleys.

The maw of a great beast parted, razors of teeth glinting silver in the dark, stretching from one brick wall to another. Hurtling towards you, wisps of black smoke emerging from the darkness and curling round you like hissing tongues. The roar started as a peal of thunder, and ended as a shockwave, razor teeth shattering into glass as the beast collided against your skull. Dizzying waves sent the world spinning, brought you to your knees before the Devil himself.

She’s good as dead.

The beast’s maw burned hot as hellfire, breathing smoke into your aching lungs, ripples of molten lava racing beneath your skin. Teeth tore into your shoulder as your hand met the ground, shaking fingers settling into the grooves of the concrete like cold tiles. Death’s talons wrapped around your throat as a cry twisted from your larynx, pointed nails morphing to scalpels and tearing down your sternum, splitting open your ribs and baring your bleeding heart.

Crimson freckled the concrete, splatters of your blood landing hot and thick against the back of your hand as cold washed over each limb, the darkness creeping in from the corners of the alleys. You reached your free hand to your forehead, and nearly cried out again in pain, but you couldn’t speak; something sharp wedged itself between your fingers, something sticky attaching webs of hair against your clammy palm.

Your hand came away with a shard of glass protruding from the stretch of skin between your fingers, red dribbling down flesh too pale to be living.

Your stomach buckled, and you curled in on yourself, eyes rolling to the back of your throbbing skull and voices pouring in like a tide.

Get back here! She’s running. Running away. Where does she think she’s going? She’s not going anywhere. She can’t escape us. You can’t escape us.

Patients rattled the bars of their cages, threw themselves against their padded walls. Screeched warnings and mournful wails and haunted cries into the stale air of the hospital, into the icy chill of night.

Fingers seized into talons as they closed around your ears, attempting to block out the noise as it built into a terrifying crescendo, wails and whispers melding together as if the darkness were mocking you but the chill that swathed your impotent form reminded you of your isolation.

GET OUT! your lips parted to say but fell silent upon the words of the damned. Let me go. Let me go, let me go.

Warmth brushed your shoulder, and you blinked saline from your eyes, streaking salt down your lip, dampened hair falling over blurry vision as you looked up to the hand held to you in the darkness. The white cuff of a shirt disappearing beneath a black suit.

Just grab hold of my hand. I will lead you through this wonderland.

And his voice, soft and warm and human, cut through the noise. Hollowed a path through the tunnel of voices and breathed life into lungs that gasped for air. Sent a tremble of fear through death’s icy talons and made the demons crawl back into the earth.

I’m here, he said.

You couldn’t straighten your claw-like grip as it brushed the warmth of his hand, but his fingers entwined in yours and the glass split his palm and bled over your knuckles and he pulled, your shoulder screaming in pain and your legs wobbly beneath you, but you stood.

Your fingers balled into a fist, the touch of his hand dissolving like a pill in water, like sutures that held you to together for one moment only to leave you in pieces, scarred and bruised and broken. For a moment, you thought you’d fall again.

Faintly, a glow emerged from the blackness, silhouetting the lazy fall of a feather, so tranquil in contrast to the tendrils of ink black that writhed in your peripheral. You swiped a hand out to the feather, its softness akin to his hand, but the voices hissed at you to look up.

The jagged peaks of the skyscrapers groaned above, folding in across the dim sky and curling into black tides that came crashing around you as pressure mounted in your skull.

The darkness devoured you. 

Water up to my knees. But sharks are swimming in the sea.

The ocean came flooding in around you, dampness seeping into the cuffs of your trousers, rising as the blackness pressed in around you. Ahead, the light glinted yellow, casting a thin line of white against the waves. The feather bobbed along the surface, chased by current that now buffeted the backs of your knees.

One foot placed before the other, you waded through the water, each step weighing heavier than the last. Each time, the light ahead grew just a little brighter, though the sides of your vision darker.

Wretched creatures began to emerge from the darkness, hissing and snarling and reaching for you in tendrils of smoke and ink. Gravity began to pull you downward, the current guiding you forwards as the alleyway morphed into a tunnel, and the voices of the underworld rang louder in your skull as you descended into the bowels of the city.

She’s heading into the darkness. The rot.

A giggle, echoing against the walls of the chamber that reeked of all things barren and desolate. Her mind’s a disease.

The reach of death grew thick here, in twisted ropes and vines that swallowed the arched ceiling, that bore down on you like snakes and streaked through the sea like eels of tar, the water itself no longer seeming so heavy in comparison as they engulfed each limb. Tightening. Shuddering.

She can’t get very far. She’s killing herself.

She has to. She has to live.

The voices were starting to argue.

Some were even voices you knew; they came to you past the iron bars nestled into pockets of your memories, depressions in the walls – people you’d known in that awful place cried out to you, cursed you, their faces fuzzy but still recognisable even in the darkness. Fellow souls trapped in the place that knew not of the sun’s warmth against your skin or the whistle of freedom through the wind.

Look. Look, girl.

Your brow furrowed, and your eyes scanned the darkness. With each face they landed on, the symphony of wails seemed to spike in volume along to the frantic thud of your heart, the little weaving line of a monitor etching itself across your mind’s eye.

Not there. No, not there.

Can’t she feel it?

It’s too late. The rot has her.

Soon it will reach her soul.

Your heart came lurching to a burning throat as the waters stirred and a creature emerged from their murky depths, slivers of metal protruding from its back before it disappeared, for half a moment resembling the wicked tips of syringes that still pricked your swiftly numbing skin.

Tearing your hands from the water, you froze, paralysis seeping in to every pore.

Ink tendrils snaked across the pallor of your flesh. From your fingertips to your elbows, the rot had taken you. It tightened round your forearm, your fingers turning completely numb.

You screamed.

Shhhhh, he soothed. Just come to me, darling. I’ll make it all better.

“JONATHAN!” Your mangled cry turned into something intelligible, the name sweet like honey on your tongue despite the bitterness of bile at the back of your throat.

Just follow my yellow light. And ignore all those big warning signs.

You began to slosh through the water, seeking him out in a frenzy, your teeth gritting as the walls of your skull began to cave in, as the rot spread to your shoulders and turned the water to pitch.

And at last, you saw him. Like the feather, silhouetted by the light, but unmistakably him. He paused, looking over his shoulder, strands of his black hair wisping this way and that. His face was shadowed, the sockets of his eyes black. The frames of his glasses glinted silver in the dark, like the teeth, the scalpels.

And he disappeared round the corner that twisted, walls shifting and shuddering as if forming a maze for a path.

Death’s icy fingers pried their way beneath your skin as the cold seeped past your blood and bones and settled somewhere deep inside the dwindling warmth of your soul. Freed from the water at last, you turned the corner and raised a rot-wreathed hand to the light fractured by a criss-cross pattern that reminded you of the bars of the asylum’s gate.

And the damp air became dry and musty, and the sewers morphed into dingy halls, alabaster wallpaper peeling back to reveal the black rot. Your pace quickened as these walls closed in, groaning with curses of the damned.

Just a little farther, the soothing, slightly-lilted baritones of his voice encouraged you on, but every turn you made down the narrowing halls, he managed to evade you, disappearing just out of reach. At the end of each hallway, what must’ve been a sewer drain and not a gate yawned from the blackness, little pockets of light stretching wider with each turn.

The feather crunched beneath your toes.

Fingers wrapped around the bars of the gate, and the hinges squealed as it swung open, your feet slotting into indentations along the walls as you desperately attempted to pull yourself up.

Warmth made you shiver in your cold sweat, and whispers funnelled into thin threads and lay buried beneath the ground as his hand met yours. In the faint glimmer of the light, you witnessed the rot dissipate, chased away by his touch. Purified.

“Jonathan,” you breathed, pulled flush to his chest, the mint of his breath raking across your lashes and the familiarity of his musk inhaled deeply through flared nostrils. You buried your face in his wrinkled tie and dress shirt and sobbed, your tears still tasting like saline. You savoured this moment, trembling beneath his touch, his hand petting the back of your dampened hair. You pulled away only as he hissed in pain.

“Jonathan, I’m scared,” you whimpered, guilty that you had seemed to wound him but caring only for sanctuary in this moment in which you knew nothing but fear. “Please don’t leave me. I’m so, so scared.”

“I know you are,” he said, squeezing your shoulder. “But you have to keep going.”

“Where? Where are you taking me?” You stared into the hollows of his eyes, still pitch black past the glint of those silver frames. Why couldn’t you properly see him? Could he see you? Was he just another shadow, a trick of light on the wall?   

Somewhere deep in the dark, a howling beast hears us talk.

Sirens wailed from the alley behind, and your blood ran cold. Jonathan stepped away, his touch tearing from yours almost painfully. Like he’d left the shards of glass in your palms.

“Don’t let them take me!” You pleaded, stumbling forward through the darkness. “I can’t go back! I can’t! COME BACK!”

She’s so afraid. So pathetic. She can’t do this without him.

The light grew in intensity, tinted more gold now than yellow, bathing the walls in a soft glow as they drew impossibly close, tapering the air in your lungs, building the pressure against your temples until your shoulders sagged under the weight of fatigue and white-hot fire cleaved your skull in two.

Jonathan paused, and turned. “Close your eyes,” he told you. “It’s not so dark here when you embrace it.”

I dare you to close your eyes. And see all the colours in disguise.

“NO!” You screeched, afraid that if you so much as blinked, he’d disappear, and you’d be lost to the darkness forever. You lurched forward on your heel, wedging yourself between the shuddering walls that closed in around you, following the same – and only path – he had taken. Turning sideways, you gulped in a breath of air, fingers scraping madly against the brick walls as the tide beginning to pool again round your ankles. The sky collapsed, pinning you, forcing your only breath from your lungs and snapping your ribs around your stuttering heart.

She’s gone. She won’t make it. She can’t reach him.

The air grew stuffy, stale. Your own breath bounced off the walls and flushed your cold, tear-streaked cheeks.

“Just trust me,” Jonathan said. “Just let go.”

Running into the night. The earth is shaking and I see a light.

With the darkness claiming you and the ground beneath you quaking with wrath, the howls of the damned echoing through a familiar hall, the world swaying on its axis, you had no choice but to suffocate your fear, to shutter your eyes closed on the light that seeped through the crack in the walls, warm against your skin in the cold dread of night.

She’s giving up.

She’s fighting.

She wants to die.

She wants to live.

The yellow-gold exploded across the backs of your eyelids, streaking like fireworks along the pitch black. Your skull still throbbed in pain, and your lips parted, the sound of a window banging against old hinges as death whispered to you through the alleys, the sewers, the hallways.

Next time.

Jonathan’s touch met your clammy palm, and the world fell silent, the walls disappearing around you and the emptiness of air spilling around your limbs.

I’m here, he reminded you.

The light is blinding my eyes, as the soft walls eat us alive.

Your eyelids peeled back to reveal the checkered, rose pattern of your wallpaper, the bright fluorescents of the bathroom, the blue eyes that bore into your own past silver frames. Slivers of ice encroaching on ink black pupils, cold and calculating yet echoing a familiar warmth.

He loosened the makeshift tourniquet from your arm, pins and needles racing from your fingertips to your elbow. A syringe of your favourite poison lay on the bathroom tile, beige powder swirling in a sea of saline.

“Come back to me. Come back to me, please,” he begged, as if for this moment alone, he allowed himself to believe in the higher power you knew he cursed.

Water seeped into your clothing like the sea of pitch, spilling from the bathtub that you had left on. It carried little rivulets of crimson around a minefield of glass. He didn’t seem very concerned with turning it off right now, despite always bitching at you about saving electricity or water. His eyes were on you, and only you.

“Jonathan,” you mumbled weakly, though you thought you screamed; your eyelids fluttered and your heart pounded faster in your chest as the darkness threatened to spill across your vision again. Your nails dug past the fabric of his suit, gripping his arm tight so that he could never let you go.

“I’m here,” he breathed, and reached his other hand around your neck to cup your head, to bring you forward. You glimpsed the white ceramic of the bathroom sink, bloodied where you’d tried to steady yourself with your hand after you’d bashed your skull against the mirror – your ineffectual attempt to cast the demons out. Glass shards lay scattered against the tile. Fragments of your broken reflection.

You still remembered the haunted look you’d hoped to banish from your eyes.

“You have to get your head out of that place,” he murmured against your scalp, his fingers bloody and sticky as he brushed shards of glass from your hair, seemingly immune to the pain. “You’re not in hospital anymore. You’re here. With me. You have to come back to me.”

Your lower lip trembled. “I can’t escape them,” you admitted, voice a mere whimper. “I can’t escape it. You’re here to take me back, aren’t you? You’re gonna lock me up.”

For a moment, you really thought that he might; his palm still rested, warm and bleeding, against your cheek, but his cold blue eyes studied you not as his lover but as his patient, assessing your condition. He sighed, as if disappointed. Shame crawled its way beneath your skin like the cockroaches that had infested the asylum’s lower wards. You had always been so desperate for his approval, he rarely saw this side of you since your rehabilitation. It wasn’t until slivers of ice shattered into twin pools of blue fire that relief began to seep into you, slow and warm but whelming.

“No. No, I’m not,” he said, voice gentle, soothing. Blue eyes glanced to your head again. “Though, you are showing symptoms of a concussion…”

Your heart sped in your chest, and the icy talons of death speared your soul, the darkness hedging the borders of your vision. Innerved by your fear, you reached for the bottle of tiny white pills that lay open, haphazard next to you. But the warmth of his hand left your face, and your fingers clenched around nothing. In a blur of movement, Jonathan threw the bottle at the toilet and it clattered against the back of the seat. You jolted, gasping, wincing as the jagged teeth of the beast sliced through your clothing.

“You prescribed me those,” you told him. “They’re supposed to make me better. You said so yourself.”

“I’ll fill you a new prescription tomorrow. Taper you off. They were no good for you,” he said, and laced his fingers through the bloodied locks of your hair. Pulled your forehead to his so that your breaths became one, and the demons in your skull grew muffled, and his warmth chased away the icy touch of death.

“What am I gonna do?” you whimpered, sobbing, hands grasping feebly at whatever you could grab hold of – his sleeve, his tie, his collar. You felt as if your soul, your mind, were laying in fragments around you like the glass, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t piece them back together. “I just want to be free. I just want to be okay.”

“I know.” He inhaled, closing his eyes, and his grip tightened on your hair, scalp stinging slightly at the almost needy action. Like in this moment he was more afraid of losing you than you were him.

Even he thinks she’s a lost cause.

And Jonathan was never one to utter false truths; because you knew this about him, his silence unnerved you. But finally, after what could’ve been hours or minutes of your pitiful sobbing and the endless drone of the tub, the trickling of water against the tile, he said,

“I’ll be right here, darling. All you need to do is take my hand.” The warmth of his palm slotted into your own, and you wove your fingers so tight that your knuckles turned white around the blood that trickled down both your wrists from the jagged glass that barbed your flesh. A seal. A pact.

“I will see you through this,” he said. “All of it. I promise.”

MASTERLIST • REQUEST

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[dutchess-of-fear]

[gothamitelove]

yandere nolanverse scarecrow hcs?

ooh you fucking got it. sorry this took forever i forgot it was in my DRAFTS not my inbox

yandere!nolanverse!jonathan crane headcanons:

lemme just say he gets FAR worse during the dark knight rises. before that, it's still bad! but then it absolutely gets Worse.

he is every type of yandere. dude is manipulative, he's deeply possessive, he's absolutely a stalker, and he's intelligent, which makes him dangerous

he notices you before you notice him. and once he does, he's absolutely hooked.

he follows you, collecting any information he can find on you. (this is quite a lot- he knows how to get into your medical records, and the internet is a wonderful place for finding people's personal information)

he wants to study you. you're fascinating to him

he's slightly hesitant to approach you in person, because for all he knows about you, he doesn't want to be let down

and now to get weird. he will drug you. handy little example here: if you're depressed, you end up with antidepressants mixed into your drinks. it's like that

will kill the guys you go out with. they're all insolent little boys who think they get to have what's his and there's a punishment for that.

he's not the type to be swayed by emotional outbursts and certainly not the kind to feel guilty about anything he's done, so don't even try it, cause it won't work.

would kidnap you. and he keeps you comfortable but your room is essentially escape-proof. it's like babyproofing but worse and just. more so

is capable of being both kind to you and cruel when he needs to be. he can play rough, don't test him

you don't find out about his... tendencies until it's far too late. this is by design. but if you are looking for them, you'll find them in his eyes. they're always a little too intense when it comes to you.

[sharksnshakes]

Everything You’ve Got - Jonathan Crane (Nolanverse)

Jonathan Crane is infatuated with reader, who’s forgotten about him entirely. That just won’t do. 

A/N; oh? what’s that? you’re yandere! crane’s darling? run. run as fast as fucking possible

Wordcount; 345

TW; mentions of stalking, mentions of kidnapping, restraints, needles, yandere themes, suggestive themes (but nothing explicit), i don’t know what else to tell you other than he’s a massive creep 

“What... what do you want from me?” 

Your voice was small. It shook, despite your attempts to steady it, and your breathing was too fast, too shallow.  

Crane’s eyes glimmered. He was enjoying this, and he wasn’t even trying to hide it. 

“Whatever you’ll allow me to have.” 

“Excuse me?” 

He exhaled softly, casting you a look spiked with adoration. 

“I’ve done this for us, you know.” 

“Us? We’re not... we never dated,” you stammered, confused. The last time you’d seen Crane, you’d been a temp at his psychiatric offices. “I didn’t even-- I didn’t even know your full name!” 

He sighed, pushed a hand through his hair and removed his glasses. There was something exasperated in his tone; like you were a child who just didn’t understand. Like you needed discipline. 

“That’s a lie.” 

Was it? You couldn’t remember.

“You asked your friend for my name the moment I left the room.” 

You racked your brain for what he was talking about. You were a temp, you were a temp... but that had been... 

“Two years ago,” you whispered, eyes wide. How... how had he remembered that...? 

“Besides,” he continued with all the nonchalance of a friendly chat, “Last week, you re-read the article Gotham Gazette published about me.” 

You froze. He was right, you had read the article twice, but that had been in the comfort of your kitchen. “Have you been stalking me?” 

He pursed his lips. “I wouldn’t call it that.” 

You shuddered. The restraints on your wrists were clammy with your sweat, and as you tugged against them, he tutted. He’d already told you to be still. He’d already told you it would hurt to struggle. He’d already told you nobody would hear you. 

“This city’s full of rotten people, (y/n),” Crane continued, brushing the back of his hand over the plane of your cheek. “I’m one of them. But I can keep you safe.” 

“Safe from everyone but you,” you whispered.  

“Maybe,” he shrugged, dropping his hand and cocking his head at you curiously. His eyes flickered to the package of needles on the counter at your side. 

Dread pooled in your gut. 

“I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.” 

[windsweptinred]

I don't know what to call it.... Coricrow? Southerngothic? 😆

Nolan Verse Jonathan Crane, Master of Fear, Lord of Despair is the blue eyed, dark haired, pouty lipped answer to every one of the Corinthian's daddy issues.

Can you imagine, the poor Nightmare would be a gonner in seconds. He is a dark brooding twink with an air of 'F*ck you, all your family and your extended social circle for daring to talk to me.' He's got a literal pet Raven called Nightmare. His own little mini Dream. But his life's pursuit is the study of fear. He's got no moral scruples about unaliving people. He's not going to ask him to change or be better... The Corinthian is going to be picking rings by the second date!

As for Jonathan, he's got an actual living Nightmare with an obvious plethora of issues. It's like all his Christmases come early!

And can you imagine the bring home to meet the parents...

Corinthian: Isn't he sublimely horrific!

Hob: He's wonderful Corinthian, I'm happy for you. He's.. I can see why you like him. Just... Are you familiar with the phrase, marrying your dad?

(Meanwhile Jonathan's following' 'Nightmare' around watching him work like a little mini-me duckling.)

That's it! I'm sorry Scriddler, I love you but for Nolanverse I'm making an exception. I'm shipping it! 😆

(I'm seeing it now...The Corinthian's accent keeps bringing out the Georgia in Jon 😍 Scythe play in the bedroom. Aww this is so much fun!)

[r1ddly]

My crane and his relationship with animals.

Lately I've been thinking about scarecrow as a whole and how certain cranes have an animal companion of some sort, whether its a crow or a horse some cranes always have some sort of help from an animal counterpart. Some instances like in nolanverse, it's just used as a tool, I might argue for the asthetic while others like in codotverse scarecrow has a strong attachment to their pet crow. Though others I believe dislike crows all together like year one, it's not stated, of course, but to me I greatly believe he both is frightened by crows and hates them with his whole being. This has made me consider MY scarecrow, how he feels about crows or other birds, his feelings on animals all together, really.

Originally, when I was first forming his character, I had the mindset that he didn't really care for anything, that he doesn't hate or love music, food, clothing, animals, etc. So of course he wouldn't like crows or horses or anything of the sorts, I had imagined that he was pestered by them growing up and that animals might have been the few things he actually actively hated, birds specifically. But now, developing him more I've changed some aspects of his character and his feelings on animals. I do still believe, for the most part, he doesn't really have much care for most things- but I don't think he can't care like his previous self. I think for him, it takes either something traumatic for him to care or it takes a lot of time and commitment for him to form feelings. I do believe he uses some animals as tools when being scarecrow, having a murder of crows follow particular people around that could be targets or could have something of interest for him, he might have them help trick others, make them laugh at his victims. A mutual companionship, I think, but certainly not friends. Wild crows, he's fed and trained since babies. Really, I imagine he stumbled upon them on accident and took them out of an odd compulsion. I think they might have reminded him of old friends he had in his younger days.

When he was much younger, when he didn't have the anger he has now and still living with his grandmother he often times was outside in the fields either working or just being there reading the few books his grandmother allowed him to read. It's there when taking a nap in the grass he found a nest of field mice, a small family in fact. At first, he knew if he kept them alive, they could run a risk of ruining the crops, and great grandmother would surely be furious but he couldn't bring himself to hurt them, not even touched them. Over time he'd bring them some food from his lunch and eventually the mice would trust him a little more over time, Jonathan felt he had found a small family to contribute to, one that wouldn't hit him or call him names, but be there for him. Though all things come to an end and one day, he was forced to watch the field mice get crushed by large rocks, killed by the boys at his school. That day, it was the foundation of the road that led him to his path of anger.

I think my crane would say that he'd feel indifferent about animals, not having a strong opinion. But deep down, he'd have feelings he wouldn't be able to describe, sympathy perhaps, envy? Who knows. Never in his life have he inflicted his rage onto them. He's never had to. For him, he knows animals don't have the self awareness to understand right from wrong, that for them, life is black and white. They act on instinct and don't have it in them to truly be evil, unlike people. They don't have the ultimatum that people do, to dance or not. They don't understand what they can be bad or good, and taking advantage of that? Hurting them and such? He would never admit it, but it angers him greatly.

Of course, this starts getting into his beliefs on life and his feelings with people, and that is a post for another day. :]

[bionaxe]

do you love me? | navigation

↪ ava | she/her | 18 | i like gaming and writing :]

thanks for checking out my blog!! im so bad at using tumblr but everyone here seems really nice. expect to see a lot of my jumbled thoughts on characters.

my dms / inbox is always open!! i love chatting and im v friendly (i think 💀) so feel free to send a message! down to b friends / mutuals

If youd like to claim an anon emoji/nickname or you'd like to be tagged in certain posts just lmk in an ask :]

anon names: 💀

this is a yandere blog, which means that i will be writing potentially triggering content. please keep that in mind.

requests : 4

do you? do you? | characters

all original posts at this time will b batman only. here are some characters i write for !! bolded ones r faves

batman (bruce wayne) : arkhamverse, btas, nolanverse, the long halloween, the batman 2022

catwoman (selina kyle) : arkhamverse, btas, the batman 2022

clayface (matthew hagen) : btas

harley quinn (harleen quinzel) : arkhamverse, btas

mr. freeze (victor fries) : arkhamverse, btas

poison ivy (pamela isley) : arkhamverse, btas

riddler (edward nygma) : arkhamverse, btas, the batman 2022

scarecrow (jonathan crane) : arkhamverse, nolanverse, btas

two face (harvey dent) : arkhamverse, btas, nolanverse, the long halloween

victor zsasz : arkhamverse

say it. | what i will & wont write

what i wont write ::

explicit sexual content

incest

pedophilia

dead readers

pregnant readers

yandere readers

will add on if needed...

what i will write :: (italicized are favorites)

romantic & platonic

suggestive content (again nothing super explicit)

headcanons / imagines / short stories / songfics

angst

gore / dark content

soulmates

unique reader traits

child readers (platonic)

alternate universes

pretty much anything not listed in what i wont write!!

aw, i love you too! | masterlist

catwoman (selina kyle) ::

yandere alphabet A, C, W (arkhamverse)

scarecrow (jonathan crane) ::

thoughts #1 (nolanverse)

scarecrow w/ darling who has philophobia (nolanverse)

knight scarecrow thoughts (arkhamverse)

two face (harvey dent) ::

thoughts #1 (arkhamverse)

headcanons (nolanverse)

riddler (edward nygma) ::

thoughts #1 (arkhamverse)

riddler with afraid darling (arkhamverse)

yandere alphabet A, B, D, E, X (arkhamverse)

[madame-fear]

DK Scarecrow having enemies to lovers story? Reader is a sunshine woman who is well liked, likes romcom movies, works in the same building with him and they get really annoyed with each other.

He thinks her attitude is childish while she is like "Why are so fucking negative all the time?"

They have to work on case together and have to tolerate each other. Jonathan got hurt at one of his Scarecrow heists and wound opens again on his hand on the job. While she isn't his fan she gets concerned and tells him to show it. She bandaged the wound very carefully with delicacy and told him to be careful.  

He, trying to be less dickish because of that, starts having short conversations with her. Turns out she loves animals and has a pet crow, the only horror movie she likes is Jon's favorite one.

When he accidentally cuts his finger on paper he goes to her being like "Oh no,I need medical help." She just smiles and puts bandage on it and kisses it afterwards saying he needs to be more careful.  Oh yeah, he fell. How he is going to ask for a date is up to you.

Sorry for ask being so long-

Omg i love this!! Especially the crow pet part, because I always wanted to have a crow 😂❤ In this one I made the reader a psychiatrist just so she can work w/Jon at Arkham 😘

I had so much fun writing this, so it might be a bit long since I got carried away. Enjoy your reading, my dearest!🥰

(F/H/M) = Favourite Horror Movie

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Enemies to Lovers | DK! Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader

Being a psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum didn't sound fun to anybody, especially considering the bad reputation that Arkham had gained over the years. You couldn't categorise your job as "fun", but you certainly enjoyed it, and always thought of yourself as lucky for having the chance to work there. Even if most of your colleagues didn't have high hopes for the patients in there, you were always eager about helping them overcome their problems, and hear what they had to say.

Everyone who worked there and knew you always talked good things about you, you were so kind, emphatic, and sweet. Your heart was big, and full of sympathy for anyone who crossed your path. But, there was something, or rather, someone who always ruined the mood, and frustrated the hell out of you: it was Dr Jonathan Crane. He was what you would call an 'asshole' with you. He was always too serious, moody, and could never take a joke, so that lead to you two not being able to tolerate each other. The tension between you two was too notorious for anyone who was stuck in the middle of you.

The main reason of why you couldn't stand each other was not only because he got on your nerves with his moodiness, but also, because you've argued a few times before, and it was always because he thought of you as childish.

"Why do you have to be so childish all the time, Dr (L/N)?" / "And why are you so fucking negative all the time, Dr Crane?"

The worst part of all is that you had been assigned to work together on a particular case, meaning you would have to learn to tolerate each other's presence. Even if you couldn't stand each other, you couldn't help but deep down inside wish he was nicer to you. He was so...enigmatic, and there was something about him that made you want to know him properly, but you couldn't place your finger on what had caught your attention. The only thing you could do was keep dreaming about getting properly along with him.

You shook your thoughts off your mind as you finally reached the large, obscure front doors of Arkham, taking a deep sigh before entering the building. Today was the day you had to work on the assigned case along Dr Crane, which that required to not lose your shit trying to cope with his constant bad mood. You directly headed towards his office, expecting him to be there so you could try to manage yourselves with the case. Suddenly hearing a familiar voice call you from behind, you stopped on your tracks.

"Dr (L/N)." Turning your head to see where the voice came from, you saw Jonathan standing there, with what seemed to be some paper work on his hand. "Dr Crane." You said, offering a gentle smile, as you slowly made your way towards him. "This is the patients file. We should begin to work on it as soon as possi–" His serious face suddenly changed, as it turned into a pained expression. Interrupting himself, he instinctively passed the paper work to the other hand, looking at his now shaky hand. You couldn't help but notice there was a big slash covering his whole palm, and it seemed to be that it began dripping some bright, red blood. "Dr Crane, what happened? Are you alright?" At this point you didn't care if he pushed you away, you were genuinely concerned about it. "It's nothing." He said, hardly trying to keep a monotone voice, as well as his professional facade. "Please, show me your hand." You insisted.

He looked deep into your eyes for a second, and sighed. "I just...accidentally cut myself." He replied. His excuse was lame, but you didn't mind that at all, nor you knew it was only an excuse. Knowing you'd keep insisting, he gave up and showed his wounded hand to you. You furrowed your eyebrows at the thought of the pain he must've felt at the moment. "This must hurt like hell, Dr Crane. Before we begin working on this case, I'm going to put a bandage on your wound. Come on, let's go." Not allowing him to oppose and leaving him no time to argue against that, you grabbed him by the hand, and guided him towards your office, where you had saved some bandages and aids in case you had an emergency. A light blush crept on his face. While it was well known in the entire building that you didn't get along very well, deep down inside, he appreciated the fact that you still cared for his well being and shook off the assigned patient case just to bandage his wound. Maybe, you weren't so bad, after all.

Having reached your office, you quickly opened the door, closing it behind you as soon as you entered. "Sit there." You said, moving the chairs in front and behind your desk so you could sit, and properly take care of his wound. He did as you told, and sat in the chair, as he stared at you look for all things neccessary to take care of a wound. "Here they are!" You said, a broad smile occupying your lips, as you held the bandages and other things to cover his injury. "This might be a bit annoying, considering it's a deep wound covering your whole palm, but it'll be quick." That was definitely going to be painful, you thought. Trying to reassure him, you gave him a gentle smile as you sat in front of him.

The first thing you did, was grab a liquid in a small bottle that was useful for deep wounds that could possibly form into an infection in a future, and gently dropped a few drops in it. Noticing how he flinched his face with clear pain due to the stinging sensation he felt, you muttered a quick 'sorry' and continued taking care of it. The next step, once you dropped a bit of your anti-infection liquid in his wound, you grabbed the bandage, and gently began wrapping his palm with it. You were as delicate and as careful as you could be, knowing that since his wound seemed to had once again opened, it was a very annoying, and it hurted quite a lot even if he said absolutely nothing.

Once you fully covered his palm with the bandage, you grabbed the scissors that stood on your desk, and cut the rest of bandage that you weren't going to use, placing it back again on your desk. "You should be more careful next time, Dr Crane." You shyly muttered, as you stared deep into his icy blue eyes. Your kindness was enough to get into him. With a single nod, he smiled back at you, and quietly thanked you for your dedication. The tension that was always felt when you two where in the same room wasn't there anymore, it was more of a calm atmosphere, which it was something you enjoyed, and had desired for a while now.

"You can call me Jonathan." He said quietly.

The rest of the day was spent working. You were constantly on the thrill of the rush, due to Arkham's natural chaotic environment. You were especially focused on working on the patient Dr Crane and you had been assigned to take care of, so you had been extremely busy and always on the run. While your mind was full of work and adrenaline, his mind was occupied on replaying the small moment he shared with you. He appreciated the fact that you cared for his injuries, despite not liking each other. He had no reason for acting shitty around you now, since that would be very ungrateful of him. Naturally, everytime he looked at his bandaged hand, it made him think of all the times he had been mean towards you, which kind of made him feel bad about it; something very rare for him.

Perhaps, it was time for you to get to know each other properly. He thought that the best way of doing so was by starting small chats with you.

------- Time Skip To a Few Months Later -------

A short while after having taken care of his wounded hand, you two had soon began to have some small talking while you worked; progressively getting along each other. The sudden change of attitude between you two was thrilling for your colleagues, who knew how badly you disliked each other. The well-known tension slowly but notoriously fading away.

He discovered some fun facts about you, it seemed you shared more similarities than any of you would have ever thought. One of the things he learned about you was the love and interest you held for animals. That love you had was both fascinating and contagious. What he had also found out about you, was that you had a pet crow named Corvus, and also, that you had similar tastes in horror movies – sharing the liking of a specific horror movie: (F/H/M). Not only it was his favourite, but it was your as well.

It had costed him a bit to open up and reveal more of himself to you, but your smile, your sweetness, your kindness...all of that was enough to make him confident in himself, and feel free to express and share his thoughts with you. You were special to him, somehow. He wasn't sure exactly how and what it was, but there was something about you that made him excited to go to work, and his heart flutter with joy as soon as he saw you walking around the chilly, obscure hallways of Arkham Asylum. He wasn't very well familiarised with that sensation, but he surely enjoyed it.

Could it be love? Maybe, most definitely. But he wasn't ready to accept the thoughts of him so badly falling for one of his colleagues. He never thought about dating someone, or simply being in a relationship, his mind was way too focused on his work, especially on working with the fear toxin. It took him a while to stop fighting against the constant denial about his feelings towards you, eventually giving up and allowing his mind to be consumed by you.

Shaking off his current thoughts away from his mind, which were distracting him, he focused back on his work. Looking at his desk collapsed with paperwork, he adjusted his glasses, deeply sighing. He stood up from his chair, and began placing the paperwork in order, trying to make his desk look less messy, and more professional.

As he quickly moved the papers away, absolutely entranced in the task, his concentration was suddenly lost as he felt an annoyingly stinging pain in his finger, which caused him to let out to quietly curse out of frustration. He looked at what provoked such feeling, and noticed that he had accidentally cut his finger with the paper, causing only a very small drop of blood to show up. A bright idea suddenly invaded his mind. Smiling at the though of it, he pressed his cut finger, making some more drops of blood to appear. This was such a great excuse to head towards your office and spend time with you.

In a heartbeat, he got out of his office and quickly guided himself towards your office. Since the distance between your office and his was short, he quickly arrived there, gently knocking on the door as he waited for you to respond. "Come in!" You shouted from inside your office, causing his heart to beat slightly faster. He slowly opened the door, revealing your small and delicate figure sitting on the chair behind your desk, apparently you were reading some files from the new patients. Lifting your sight, you smiled at the sight of him popping from behind your door.

"I might need some medical help." He said, before you could even open your mouth to greet him. He partly closed the door behind him, and slowly walked towards you, showing you his insignificant cut, which had a few miserable drops of blood. You couldn't help but smile and playfully scoff at his silly exaggeration, you couldn't help but find him extremely adorable, considering yourself lucky of being able to see his hidden personality. "Very well, sir. Allow me to take care of it." You replied, doing your best to sound as professional as possible.

Searching through your first aid kit, you found some band aids. You grabbed them, and walked towards him, gently grabbing his barely cut finger and placing the band aid on top of the slightly smeared blood. Since you had gained all his trust, you guided his finger to your lips, and placed a very delicate kiss on top of the band aid. "You should be more careful, sir." Oh, he surely felt his heart pounding with excitement as soon as your eyes met his, making him more confident in the realisation of his crush with you. It was a whole new sensation for him, and he absolutely loved the way he felt around you. He was sure he felt the blushing on his cheeks increase, slightly tingling.

"Thank you for your service, Dr." He playfully replied; you really did get the best of him. "Of course." You said smiling, and smoothly sending him a wink that made his cheeks get even more reddish. He had to get his mind back to work, but he had something he's been holding for a while now, and he'll eventually find a way to tell you in a proper way, without scaring you off.

Hours passed, and he had finally returned back again to his home. As soon as he got comfy, he spent nearly all night long thinking about in which way would he ask you out. Ironically, anxiety consumed the emotionless Dr Crane, by simply thinking about how to impress you while asking you out for a date. That night, even if he had been nearly sleepless, a brilliant idea crossed his mind. And he was going to put it into action the very next day, as soon as he saw you.

------- The Next Day -------

The exciting day he's been waiting for had come. He was anxious, yet eager to try out the idea that had left him sleepless all night long. What he had planned was a small yet subtle detail, but it was perfect enough to allow him to smoothly ask you out on a date. On the other hand, you were clueless, but also excited to see him once again. Just like him, you've gained a huge crush on him, and you suspected he liked you too...but you thought to yourself, that you might have been imagining it.

Making your way towards your workplace, your head was filled with thoughts about him. Your head constantly replayed all the good times you've spent with him, and hoped for things to go even further than now. Once you arrived to Arkham, you entered the building as quickly as possible, since today was colder than usual, making you could feel some goosebumps creeping on your body. The Asylum itself wasn't helping much with the current cold that consumed your body, due to it's chilly halls.

Nervousness filled your whole body like it never did before. You were thrilled at the thought of being near his presence, and you swore it made your heart skip a beat. Having to focus back to your work, you had finally arrived to your office. Opening the door, you left it very partly open and quickly sat on your chair. "Shit." You quietly muttered, at the sight of your desk being a mess with paperwork. Feeling a small headache appear, you took a deep sigh and mentally prepared yourself for the day that was yet to come. The first thing you did was place everything that laid on your desk in it's right place, only to make it look less chaotic.

Since your mind was automatically focused on the task, you slightly jumped and quietly gasped when you heard someone knocking on the door. "Fuck!" You exclaimed. Your cheeks began getting rosy when you realised that the one knocking on the door was Jonathan. "Sorry, Jon. I didn't realise it was you the one knocking." He chuckled at your comment, both his hands were behind his back. "You should watch your language." He said, a gentle smile forming on his lips. You playfully rolled your eyes at him. "What are you, my mum? Come on, we are both adults. Besides, I've heard you swear before." He quietly scoffed at you, his smile never fading away. "You're right, (Y/N)."

Leaving your paperwork aside, you slowly walked towards him. "So, what brings you to my office? Are you in need of medical help once again?" Soft blush appeared on his cheeks as you playfully hit his arm with your shoulder. He gently shook his head. "Luckily, no. It's something better, I'd say. I came to bring you..." He briefly paused for a moment. This very moment was the first time he ever felt shy around someone. "I came to bring you a gift." His arms were behind his back the whole time, hiding the gift he had bought for you. "Oh! Really? What is it?" He found you adorable when you were excited, just like a little child.

Your excitement was so contagious, and it made his smile grow even wider. "Hope you like it." He said, as he finally showed you a very delicate black box with a golden ribbon wrapped around it. At this moment, you felt you were about to faint. Gently taking it away from him, you slowly open the box, revealing a pair of crow earrings, and a necklace that had with the initial of your name. "Oh, this is so beautiful! Thank you so much, I love it!" With your arms wide open, you threw yourself at him, tightly embracing him into a hug. It was the first time you had ever hugged him.

He stood there, shockingly proccesing the moment. He felt like melting into your touch, it was something that he had hoped for so long...and here you were. Eventually, he gave into the hug, wrapping his arms around you, and pressing your small, delicate body against his. Now, was the moment to ask you out on a date, and he only wished for you to say yes. "I'm glad you liked it, my dear." He quietly muttered, as he softly played with some strands of your hair. His nervousness increased as seconds passed by. "I really enjoy your company, (Y/N). You're a great colleague, and you're so sweet and kind as well. I'm absolutely thrilled to be able to work with you." He quickly licked his lips before he continued speaking.

Taking a deep breath, he spoke again. "And that's why I was wondering, if perhaps I could take you out on a date someday after work?" You quickly opened your eyes, since they were previously closed. Your heart began pounding with nervousness, and overjoy. Finally! All your dreams had become true. Trying to keep your cool, you released your grip from his lanky and tall figure, and looked deep into his eyes with a small smile. "Of course! I'd love that. When?" Your voice tone was quiet and gentle, but on the inside you were screaming of happiness...unbeknownst to you, so was he. "Are you free today?" He asked, slightly tilting his head to his side. When it came to him, of course you were. You'd always be free for him.

"Sure. My schedule is free today after work. Your house or mine?" You asked, you didn't even bother to hide the blushing anymore, your lips growing wider with joy. "That decision is up to you, my dearest." He was better than you at keeping his cool, he didn't look nervous on the outside...but he was too overexcited about this whole situation. "It's a date, then. Let's meet at my house." You said, playfully extending your hand for him to shake. He looked down at your hand, and quietly chuckled to himself. He gently took your hand, and shook it.

"It's a date." He extended your hand towards his lips, and carefully kissed your knuckles, making the rosy red in your cheeks to intensify. "See you after work, Dr (L/N)." He winked at you, and walked out of your office, fully closing the door after he left. It was so hard to contain your giggles at this point. "Yeah...see you later, Dr Crane." You quietly muttered to yourself. Waiting a few long seconds after he left, you harshly covered your face with both of your hands, gushing out at the intense emotions you were currently feeling.

Joy took over your entire body as your mind replayed the sweet moment you just had with him, and kept staring at the precious little gift he had bought especially for you. It was as if the small gift had attached intensely strong emotions to it, and you could feel it deep inside of your heart. On the other hand, it was quite impossible for him to contain his goofy smile. He was so happy and proud of himself for having the courage of asking you out on a date. He really judged you wrongly when he first met you, and you were quite exclusive to him, because you're the only person he's ever regretted treating badly.

But he was surely going to make it to you. It was unbelievable how much you had gotten into his mind and heart, you had such a strong effect on him. It didn't matter how things went after your date, but he's always going to make sure you felt loved, and taken cared of. You're his precious little crow now.

[scarecrowismybabygirl]

Canon Jonathan Crane

[the-girl-wh0-cries-w0lf]

Man discovered fire.

Women discovered how to play with it.

Jonathan Crane x psycho!reader PART ONE

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN - request here

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You met at Arkham when you were a patient and he was your doctor. There was something so sweet about him. His seemingly unblemished soul made your mouth water. Every time he fixed his crooked glasses a blackened part of your heart fluttered.

When he visited you for your weekly sessions you enjoyed toying with him. You were often stuck in your straight jacket but it didn’t mean you couldn’t use your foot to run up and down his trouser leg.

“Miss Y/n, I feel that our—what are you doing?” He stumbled over his words when your foot began to gently press against his growing bulge.

“Doctor Crane, I didn’t realise interviewing sicko’s got you this excited.”

He grasped your foot and threw it back down. You sickeningly giggled at his display of force, believing you were slowly uncovering something more to the innocent doctor.

“I’m boreddddd.” You whined. “I don’t want to be here anymore.” You kicked your feet in a tantrum.

He fixed his glasses. “You believe you have been rehabilitated?”

You fixed yourself so you were now sat criss cross. You leaned towards him. “What do you think doc?”

“I think you killed 39 people.” His voice dropped to an enticing whisper.

“No.” Your voice lost it’s teasing lilt.

“I’m sorry?”

“I killed men. Not people.”

After an intense stare, he broke it to gather up his papers and his briefcase. You leaned back feeling your heart race. You hadn’t felt this rush of adrenaline in a while as even killing had lost its excitement after a while. This was a new feeling, and you were addicted.

“I’m bored. Play with me.” You shot him a flirty smile.

He stopped on his exit out and turned to face you. His eyes raked up and down your body.

“Not yet.”

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PART TWO

Here's the post I promised to celebrate my 100 followers! it's kinda late but I'm loving it! Also there will be multiple parts to this!

taglist: @jonsncws @h-l-vlovesvintage @theethy @fashionki11a @felicity1994 @bearchermer @idkyoutellmesmh @mimimarvelingmarvel @butterfly-lies-chase-them-away @neotanpopper @deliriouslybi @folklorde24 @thefandomdiaries07 @viarosemcmissile @noirrose21-blog @thepoeticfirefly @xoxo-gothic-girl @skeletonwrite @jellyzelek @kaylamarie306-blog @bloodcanbehot @lazybot @raineeace @thearieunhinged @multifans-things @queenofterrasen418 @bey0ndne0 @justanotherkpopstanlol @iamliterallyspidergwen @frozenhuntress67 @alice2612

[nocturnest]

Oooo I thought of an idea for the 3rd part of Amor and Timor!! You know how it left off with Jonathan staying over at Y/n’s apartment? Imagine her ex knocking on her door and either she answers the door and he forces himself in (which was not a good idea because guess who is sitting in her living room🤭🫣) orrrr JONATHAN answers the door… Either way the man is face to face with a very angry Jonathan Crane that now feels he needs to use more of what’s up his sleeve so that her ex gets the idea to leave her alone😅 Ooof and when that door closes behind him, either way he’d be locked in there with The Scarecrow who feels very protective of his girl🫣

I don’t know that her ex would leave this interaction alive😅

@kpopgirlbtssvt AHH LOVE THIS IDEA! protective jonathan for the win!

warnings: mild violence, references to sex (but they haven't actually done it yet don't worry!), a threatening presence

Your apartment was cozy. That was the first thing that came to mind when Jonathan stepped in. There were piles of books scattered across the room, a quite comforting similarity between your apartment and his own.

And now, here you two were. Your head in his lap as he slowly combed through your soft hair with his fingers. If only he knew how much he was affecting you with his feather-light touch.

Jonathan could sense that you were at peace, that you desired his presence. You wouldn't have sought him out otherwise, but he wasn't used to being accepted so willingly, to being able to be so open with another, to being wanted.

The soft glow of the television illuminated the room. You had picked a psychological thriller, Se7en. It wasn't necessarily scary but it made your skin crawl. There were moments when you snuggled closer to Jonathan, your nose nuzzling his neck. While Jonathan didn't like to see you frightened, he couldn't help but feel a sort of pride that you found solace in him, that his presence meant you were safe.

As Jonathan continued to run his fingers through your hair with gentle strokes, you felt yourself drifting into a state of blissful relaxation. The stresses of the day melted away, replaced by a sense of tranquility that only his touch could provide.

Just as you were on the brink of drifting off to sleep, a sharp knock at the door shattered the peaceful atmosphere. You jolted awake, the sudden interruption jarring you back to reality.

Jonathan's expression hardened as he rose from the couch, his protective instincts kicking into high gear.

"Are you expecting anyone?"

You gave a sleepy smile, "Not at this time of night."

"I'll get it," he said, squeezing your hand before making his way to the door, his posture tense yet controlled.

As Jonathan swung open the door, your ex stood on the threshold, his presence an unwelcome intrusion into your sanctuary. You stood up from the couch with shaky legs. Before your ex could utter a word, Jonathan's icy gaze silenced him, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

"Well, well, well," Jonathan said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Look who decided to drop by uninvited." He immediately wishes he had his fear gas with him, which he wouldn't hesitate to use on this man (if he could even call him that).

From what you can see over Jonathan's shoulder, there was anger in your ex's expression, and then utter confusion.

"Is that my shirt?"

"Hm," hummed Jonathan thoughtfully as he looked down and inspected the shirt that you had given him, "I suppose it's mine now." You couldn't see Jonathan's expression as he speaks but he's grinning.

You wanted him to be more comfortable as he was staying the night. In fact, you had bought the shirt yourself for your ex but he never ended up wearing the damn thing. He claimed that he wouldn't be caught dead in it.

Your ass of an ex scowled, threw his hands up with frustration, and practically roared with anger like the complete and utter fool that he was, "You're seriously going to choose this twig over me? You're already whoring yourself out to other men? I'm not surprised that you're that desperate. You were terrible in bed anyways."

Something flicked in Jonathan's expression. Jonathan's grin widened, a glint of mischief yet anger dancing in his eyes as he exchanged a knowing glance with you. He leaned against the doorframe casually, his demeanor almost playful despite the tension in the air.

"Well, I must admit your assessment of her character is quite revealing of your own," Jonathan remarked, his tone cool and collected.

Jonathan tilted his head and whispered something you couldn't quite hear, "I'll have you know that she's remarkable in bed. In fact, my throat is rather sore from screaming her name. But you don't need me to tell you that, do you?"

Your ex's face contorted with rage, his fists trembling at his sides as he struggled to find a retort. But before he could unleash another verbal assault, Jonathan stepped forward, his presence towering over him.

"Now, now, there's no need for name-calling," Jonathan said, his voice laced with mock sympathy. "I suggest you take a lesson in manners before you go around insulting people. It's unbecoming, you uncouth oaf."

Your ex gave another look of anger but also bewilderment. You were trying and failing to hold back laughter.

He paused and backtracked, "Oh - my sincerest apologies, I know better than to use words that you don't know." He emphasized the last three words by prodding your ex's chest with his finger.

Your ex fidgets with his hands and shuffles backwards, "You-"

Jonathan interrupted him, his thoughts elsewhere, waving his hand away from the door, "Go on, now. Begone! Please assist with depriving us of your pathetic presence."

Your ex looked between you and Jonathan, his face unreadable, and before you could even speak, he leaned backward before punching Jonathan in the face.

You gasp with surprise as your ex's fist connected with Jonathan's face with a sickening thud, sending him stumbling backward. Shocked gasps escaped your lips as you watched Jonathan's glasses clatter to the floor, his hand instinctively flying to his now bleeding nose.

Without a second thought, adrenaline surged through you as you rose to your feet, your protective instincts kicking in. You stepped forward, your voice trembling with fury.

"Get out," you spat, your tone dripping with venom. "Get out of my apartment and never come back."

Your ex recoiled at the intensity of your words, his eyes widening with fear as he realized the gravity of the situation. With a muttered curse, he turned on his heel and fled from the apartment, his retreat marked by the sound of the slamming door.

As the echoes of his departure faded into silence, you turned your attention back to Jonathan and reached for a kitchen towel. With your heart pounding in your chest, you approached him cautiously and lifted his chin with gentle hands, meeting his pained gaze with a mixture of concern and determination.

"Let me see," you murmured, your voice soft as you examined the damage to his nose. Blood trickled down his face, staining his shirt with crimson droplets.

Jonathan winced as you gingerly touched the tender skin around his nose, his breath catching in his throat. You pressed the towel against his face. Despite the pain etched on his features, there was a flicker of gratitude in his eyes as he looked at you, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between you.

As you tended to Jonathan's injury, your hands trembling slightly with a mix of nerves and concern, you couldn't help but feel a surge of empathy for him.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely above a hush. "I should have been more careful. I didn't expect him to... to..."

Jonathan shook his head gently, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the pain. "It's not your fault," he reassured you, his voice soft yet resolute. "You couldn't have known he would react like that."

You sighed, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders at his words. "Still, I should have been prepared. I should have stood up to him sooner."

Jonathan reached out, his hand bringing yours to his lips for a kiss. "You did stand up to him," he said, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering intensity. "You showed courage and strength in the face of adversity. And for that, I admire you."

A blush crept across your cheeks at his words, a warmth spreading through you at the sincerity in his gaze. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely audible. "That means a lot to me."

You grinned as you recalled Jonathan's words to your ex, "You really know how to shut someone down with style. I must say, your insults are quite impressive."

Jonathan's lips curled into a smirk, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Well, I do try to maintain a certain level of eloquence, even in the face of ignorance," he quipped, his tone light yet tinged with amusement.

You chuckled softly, feeling a sense of camaraderie growing between you as you basked in the aftermath of the confrontation. "Consider me thoroughly entertained," you replied, a playful twinkle in your eyes.

Jonathan's laughter mingled with yours, the sound filling the room with warmth and light. As the laughter subsided, you found yourselves gazing into each other's eyes, a silent understanding passing between you. You marveled at how beautiful his smile was.

For a while, the two of you sat on the couch in companionable silence, the only sound filling the room the quiet hum of the heater and the soft patter of snow against the windowpane. And as you curled into Jonathan's side, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, a feeling of connection that transcended words. You felt safe.

@kiss-me-cill-me hope you enjoy part three!

@mothhball thought you might be interested!

[death-or-exile]

𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐫: 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐓𝐕 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥

There's a beautiful girl And a handsome guy She's sitting all alone He's giving her the eye They approach one another They don't realize the danger What will they say What do you think She'll crack another smile He'll buy another drink That isn't the important part That happens later You should have listened to your mother Don't ever talk to strangers Lust turns to boredom Boredom turns to lust Diminishing returns With each and every thrust The energy's preserved Just converted into anger Don't take candy Don't get in someone's car Don't let anybody touch you No matter who they are The police are at your door Turns out the killer was your neighbor He seemed like such a normal guy A little quiet, nothing major You should have listened to your mother Don't ever talk to strangers

This song gives me very one-night stand with Jonathan Crane vibes, particularly if we’re talking Nolanverse. I’ve briefly explored this in Office Hours but I do think that Nolanverse Crane is aware that he is attractive to some degree, although I think years as an awkward, bullied teen gave him such a complex he doesn’t really see/acknowledge/understand it himself, as much as he views it as a tool for convenience. 

I can imagine this Crane out at a mob bar, perhaps after a meeting with Falcone at one of his establishments, or just to get out after a day at Arkham for a stiff drink (I feel like he prefers a quiet drink at home, but I think he has a vague people-watching predisposition that comes along with his psychologist instincts, and from time to time enjoys the privacy that can only come with being completely alone in a crowded room). I think where a sexual partner is concerned, there’s a bit of the thrill of the hunt involved, making them fall for his looks and charms. I think knowing that that he is dangerous, what he COULD do to them, gets him off to some degree. However once he gets them back to his place or their place or wherever, in the act, he’s rarely emotionally engaged, and sex becomes a means to an end. That’s not to say he’s never felt any emotional attachment to a lover whatsoever, or enthralled by the act in the moment, but he’s a master at squashing those emotions, as an act of self-preservation. 

I suspect he might involve a little fear toxin in these escapades but not much, nor do I think he’d cause a bunch of intentional harm outside of consensual acts. I don’t think he’d be willing to risk exposure of his research and experiments over something as insignificant as a hookup; however I do think he’s a master of being gone before you wake up, having to “get an early start” in the morning, and then completely ghosting.