#Scarecrow imagine

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

warnings: swearing, mention of scarecrows fear serum

tags: @illiana-mystery, @eclecticwildflowers

Knocking on the apartment door, I hugged my jacket tighter. The small box at my feet reminded me of why I was here. The door opened after the series of locks were undone.

“(Y/N)?” His voice was soothing, even when curiosity got the better of him.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” I said with a shrug. Johnathan looked down where I kicked the box. “Got fired today.” I gave him a weak smile as he bent over to grab the box. His piercing blue eyes met mine and I swore they hardened.

“well that’s shit.” He mumbled as he ushered me into the apartment. “What are you going to do?” Johnathan put the box on his end table and sat down across from me on the coffee table.

“I don’t know.” I admitted. I had told everyone at the office that I was going to be alright. I had everything planned out. But it was a lie. “Thought I’d come here. Only place I felt safe going. Only place I didn’t feel like a failure at.” Johnathan sighed before moving to sit next to me on the couch. He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into him and kissing my head.

“you’re not a failure.” Johnathan assured me. “If I didn’t know any better, you went out with a fight. Kicking and screaming.” I nodded against him. “Then you have nothing to feel like a failure for. It’s their own fault. People were leaving like fucking rats on a sinking ship.” Sighing, I curled further into him.

“that’s definitely an accurate depiction.” I agreed. Johnathan nodded before kissing my head again.

“least you were smart. Now someone owes you money.” He said with a smile. I nodded mournfully. “You wanna stay here?” Johnathan asked after a minute.

“if it’s alright with you.” I whispered. Johnathan tilted my head up and kissed me.

“of course it’s alright with me.” He assured me. “Just don’t go into the office. Have a little excitement going on in there.” His eyes flashed and I nodded. “I think I found my next test subject.”

“Johnathan…” I warned. He shot me a small smile.

“What? I never said who.” His smile grew a little and I rolled my eyes, draping my arm across his stomach.

“just be careful.” I whispered. He kissed my head again.

“always am.” Johnathan said, eyes flicking to the case by the door that held his mask. “Always am.”

[hllywdwhre]

Hoax

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary: You debate leaving your identity as Batgirl behind for a certain villain that has caught your eye.

Warnings: None; let me know if I missed any

Word Count: 641

Notes: Credit to @slut4thebroken for the ‘baby bat’ nickname 🫶🏻 it’s now a favorite trope of mine with Crane

Based on the song ‘hoax’ by Taylor Swift.

My only one

My kingdom come undone

My broken drum

You have beaten my heart

Morals. You couldn’t let yours lapse. Your morals are what caused you to start working with Bruce in the first place, yet every time he called you “Baby Bat”, you felt your heart flutter in a way you knew you shouldn’t.

He was terrorizing the city with a plan to unleash a deadly amount of fear into the streets. It would cause Gotham to fall into something beyond anarchy and the cure would never be ready in enough time for you to stop it. It was terrorism, there was nothing else to describe it.

Yet, here you sat, with him standing in front of you, a look that was equal parts teasing and knowing on his face.

“You can’t ask me to stop being Batgirl, I can’t do it.” Your voice shook as you sat on his bed next to him.

“So your morals stop you from giving up Batgirl, but not from fucking and falling for the Scarecrow?” He asked, the familiar taunting emphasis on his alter ego’s name. The look on his face matched the taunting tone.

“There has to be a middle ground somewhere…” you began, voice desperate, “I won’t help Br- Batman when it comes to Scarecrow’s plots, but I won’t help you with them, either. I stay on the sidelines and only aid him in taking down others,” you offered, trying to come up with something that allowed you to keep Batgirl and Jonathan.

“You know that can’t be done. I work with others and they’re going to work with me,” he pointed out.

You let silence fill the air for your response, and for once, he didn’t fill the air with a know-it-all or sarcastic reply. He allowed your silence to sit.

Weeks later and you were sitting by someone’s side, watching as the city went into chaos.

“And your kingdom crumbles…” Jonathan said in a low voice that was distorted by the mask he wore.

The words sent a pang through your heart, but you ignored it.

“It was going to crumble anyways,” you replied with an equally distorted voice.

“Let’s move,” he told you, grabbing your hand and standing.

You stood up and followed him through one of the many tall buildings that filled Gotham, finding your horses in the lobby of the building, and moving to guide them outside before a third party made their presence known to the two of you.

“I thought it was you… I didn’t want to believe it,” Bruce said, causing you and Jonathan to whip around and look at where he was perched on one of the desks.

“Don’t,” Jonathan warned, his voice even more menacing while it was distorted.

As much as he had mocked you for the way your morals had caused such a…tumultuous beginning to your relationship, he didn’t allow for others to do the same.

“You traded one set of wings for another, and in doing so helped bring the downfall of Gotham,” Bruce said, his eyes behind the Batman mask being trained on you. “From Batgirl to the Sparrow…” he trailed off.

“You always underestimated her,” Jonathan said, stepping slightly in front of you, as if trying to protect you. “Do you understand why it’s now Sparrow?”

Bruce shook his head.

“Because Sparrows are often seen as harmless birds,” Jonathan answered, allowing your hand to rest on his arm as he continued on, “but in many cultures they represent death. That’s what you saw her as when she joined your side. A helper. Not a fighter that could bring more to you. You were afraid to weaponize her, but I saw the other side of her. The one that could be dangerous.”

He saw the side of you Bruce was afraid to weaponize, but he didn’t view it as a weapon. He saw all of you and viewed it as you.

[sharksnshakes]

For Better Or For Worse - Jonathan Crane

Why is your boyfriend, Jonathan Crane, wearing the Scarecrow’s mask? 

A/N; PLEASE why does he look weirdly adorable in this gif??? he’s literally a grown ass man,,,,,,,, anyway giving scarecrow a smooch makes brain go brr

TW; suggestive behavior, mostly fluff, established relationship

When you see your boyfriend wearing a burlap mask, everything clicks into place: the late night shifts, the cardboard boxes full of glass vials, the secrecy surrounding his work. Jonathan--your Jonathan--is the Scarecrow. 

Though his face is still covered by the burlap mask, you feel his eyes on you. He’s speechless. 

In all the time you’ve known Jonathan, you’ve never known him to be speechless. 

It’s strangely funny. Would it be bad if you laughed? 

You don’t, though, instead crossing the room to stand before him; he doesn’t move. When you speak, your voice is barely a whisper. 

“Jonathan?” 

He says nothing and you draw closer: close enough to gently settle a hand on the plane of his chest. His heart is practically beating out of it--if you didn’t now any better, you’d say Gotham’s doctor of fear was fearful. 

Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth, you remove your hand from his chest, skimming the raw edge of the mask with your fingertips. The material is rough--how could he possible be comfortable wearing this? Is this the cause of the small scrapes on his nose?--you give it a small, experimental tug.  

“Is this okay?” you ask. 

Your voice is small, unsure. You’re unsure of everything right now, really, save for your feelings toward the man in front of you. 

You should probably be scared, running in the other direction. But you’re not, whether for better or worse. 

Jonathan tips his head in a slight nod, and you hook your fingers around the burlap. Go ahead. 

With a gentle tug, you pull it across his jaw and up over his nose, tucking a stray hair behind his ear in the process. One hand holds the fabric up while the other rests gently on his jaw. You brush the pad of your thumb across his skin; small goosebumps emerge in its wake. 

You can see his eyes through the mask. 

They’re locked on you, unwavering. 

Lifting yourself up on the tips of your toes, you lean in. Your lips barely brush against his, and though you’re hesitant to follow through, you place a fleeting kiss. 

He’s stiff. 

Shit, should you pull away? 

Risking a glance at him tells you his expression hasn’t changed a bit, he still stares at you with those impossibly blue eyes--

Then his hands are on your waist and he’s capturing your mouth in an insistent, hungry kiss. 

It’s enough to make you stumble--not to worry, Jonathan easily catches you. His grip is bruising, and you get the sense that he’ll do anything he can to never let you go. 

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 5 (Collaring)

BTAA Scarecrow x Reader (NSFW)

(1,522 Words)

Summary: There’s a kill collar around your neck

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, tied to a chair, collaring, fear play, a little bit of psychoanalysis, light knife play, dom/sub dynamic

Notes: Ok, now this one was just TOO FUN to write LMAO, u can read this as a continuation to this or as a stand alone, either way, enjoy the fic!!!

-

An abrupt chill dances up your neck, waking you to your surroundings. Eyes opening groggily, you awaken to thick, rough twine digging into your wrists and ankles, keeping you tied to the arms and legs of a wooden chair.

You try to look around, but you feel something heavy and metal around your neck. It’s when you hear the beeping of a heart monitor when you realize exactly what it is.

“Good morning, sunshine.” You look up in front of you to see the Scarecrow, leaning his hands back on the table behind him, standing with his leg crossed casually. His voice is his usual brand of eerily cheerful. Amusing, but terrifying to be on the other end of, as you have seen by working for him for a while, but unfortunately, you weren’t so lucky this time.

The collar begins to beep slightly faster, hardly noticeable, but your boss, Scarecrow- Dr. Jonathan Crane, he seems to pick up on your nerves easily. Behind his raggedy, burlap mask, you can see the stirrings of morbid excitement as he cocks his head playfully.

“No need to be nervous,” He says nonchalantly. He leans back further, sitting on the table. “You know the drill by now.”

You begin to wonder what you could’ve possibly done to end up to be the next victim of one of the Scarecrow’s infamous kill collars. “I’m going to die, aren’t I?” You ask bluntly.

“Oh! Right to the point,” he chuckles. “Well,” he clears his throat, “It all depends on you- Don’t get scared, and you get to keep your head.”

You roll your eyes, hearing his spiel dozens of times already. “Yeah, yeah- Got it, like you said, I know the drill.”

The Scarecrow gets up, stalking ever so close to you. You feel his cold hand find its way under your chin, tilting up your head to look deep into his gaze. You’ve seen him do this several times, you know this is just an intimidation tactic to toy with his victims.

“So what did it?” You begin, unfazed by his potent glare. “Was it the fact that I knew too much about what was really going on here? Or was it when I reduced you to nothing but a quivering mess when I caught you fucking yourself to the thought of me?”

He lets out a low chuckle, placing a hand on your shoulder, circling around you menacingly. “You could say that.”

“To which one?”

“Oh, I don’t think it really matters too much,” he stops behind you, “…What matters…” You feel your feet come off the floor as he tilts back the chair, “…Is that we need to make an example out of you,” he darkly murmurs in your ear. You let out an involuntary yelp as the chair is suddenly pushed forward.

The kill collar starts to beep slightly quicker now, but it was getting harder to tell if your heart was picking up due to fear, or arousal. Either way, you refuse to let whatever emotions you’re currently feeling be the death of you. Taking a deep breath, you attempt to stabilize your breathing, which the Scarecrow notes aloud.

“Breathing techniques, huh? You must’ve been paying attention to all those times you’ve seen me collar someone. Why? Did you see yourself ending up in a situation like this? Did you try to prepare just in case you did?”

“I learned from the best,” you sigh sarcastically.

“Aw,” he chuckles, “You know, complimenting me won’t get you out of this…” Crane fishes around the inner pocket of his jacket. He makes his way around you once again as the glint of his switchblade is caught in your peripheral vision. “Now answer the question,” The blade is held directly to your chest. “Please.”

“Alright,” You gulp, the beeping of the collar stays consistent. “Yeah, I did think this is how things would end, but you know what?”

“What is it, little lamb?”

“The fact that you have me here, like this, means that I’ve gotten close.”

Crane leans over the back of the chair, cocking his head to meet your eyes. “I’m not sure I follow.”

“I learned some real nasty secrets about your experiments with using JoyCure, an unauthorized drug, on your patients,” you explain, “and, I had you completely spineless for me, the fact that you have me collared here, means you’re afraid. You’re afraid that I know too much about you, criminally and personally, so you have me here to not only kill me, but to kill the fear of knowing about the leverage I have on you.”

You look him dead in the eyes as you make your case, showing him that you are not afraid and refuse to be afraid, no matter how much he tries to make you believe it. You almost forget he still has the blade to your chest until you feel the cold metal trail down and eventually off your flesh.

A low, bubbling, snicker sounds in the warehouse. “My, my,” whispers Crane, awestruck. He toys with the switchblade, fiddling with it in his hands. “Now look who’s playing psychiatrist.” His low snicker erupts into an uproarious laugh, like a hyena. “Oh wow, that is an interesting theory to say the least, and you do make a very promising point,” his voice is directly behind you now. “I can see how you’re trying to flip the dynamic here, thinking you have some control, but unfortunately…” his hands find their way to your shoulders, pinning you to the back of the chair. You hear a sadistic hiss in your ear. “…You’re wrong.”

The air of his breath tickles the side of your neck. Hearing the flick of the switchblade snapping open, the knife is held to your chest once again. However, the knife continues to slide down your uniform- a simple jumpsuit to protect yourself from any chemicals from his fear toxin that may be lingering around the warehouse. The fabric tears and you are left vulnerable, opened up with your underwear exposed. You don’t say a word, but the collar’s heart monitor audibly speeds up.

“There it is…” he whirls around, admiring your exposed flesh- your exposed emotions. “There’s that fear I’ve been so longing to see.” Behind his mask, you could tell he was grinning sadistically. Attempting to keep standing your ground, you keep your head held high as the Scarecrow prowls over to you. “Or, wait a second… maybe, it’s not fear.”

Oh shit.

“Hmmm,” he ponders aloud, “it’s very hard to tell with you.” He claps his hands, throwing his head back. “Well!” his head comes back, the eyes behind his mask eye you up carnally. “There’s always solutions that we can test to distinguish which response is which.” At this point, he’s doing it just to mess with you. Prowling behind the chair, he leans forward, directly to your ear. “…I am a man of science, you know.”

His cold hand drops to your chest. He feels up every inch of your exposed body. Shuddering, his fingers find their way to your undershirt, sliding between the fabric and teasing your nipples. A restrained moan exits your mouth as lightly pinches them.

“Interesting response,” he purrs “someone who is feeling fear wouldn’t have that reaction, so obviously, you’re feeling frustrated…” He lets go of your nipples, flicking his thumb over them. “…Sexually.” You hardly notice that the collar’s beeping sounds faster this time.

“It’s fascinating,” he continues “how fear and arousal are so similar.” His hands finally make their way to your inner thighs, caressing them, teasing. “Heavy breathing…” He drags his hand across your underwear. “Adrenaline, pumping…” His hand finally slips into your underwear, you jump when he finally glides his fingers over your sex, “…Heart, racing.” The beeping of the kill collar continues to ring out.

Gathering the arousal that drips out of your aching sex, Crane applies more pressure and friction against the spot that makes you squirm. He fucks you with his skilled fingers. You breathe out amorously, not giving a shit about the kill collar, which rapidly increases in its beeping, sealing your fate as you come violently.

When you come down from your euphoric high, you realize your head is still on your body. You’re alive. Breathing heavily, you turn your head as best you can, confused, facing the deranged psychiatrist, who lets out an amused chuckle.

“Oh yeah, forgot to mention,” Crane makes his way over back to the table, leaning back casually, soaking in your disheveled state. “That kill collar? It’s a fake.”

Flicking open the switchblade, Jonathan makes his way over to you, using it to unscrew the heavy, metal collar which unclamps from your neck immediately. You feel the sweet relief of being able to move your neck once again, only for the Scarecrow to take your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him.

His eyes bore into yours deeply. “I needed you to know how easily I can make you squirm.” His voice drips with sadistic venom. “This was just to show you who really has control here.”

[finniestoncrane]

Would you be willing to do an ABCs for Arkhamverse Scarecrow?

NSFW Alphabet

Arkham!Scarecrow Headcanons yeah fuck it anon i had nothing else going on at work when i decided to write this and it was fun to do! i love doing my own headcanons for arkham jonny because i think he's such a gothic-romantic boy and i love indulging myself lmao 🧡🎃 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: the whole thing is nsfw and it's jonathan so obviously some riskier kinks are mentioned

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

surprisingly tender and vulnerable, more because it's been a pretty big display of desires, trust, and emotions that he's not used to exhibiting. he'd rather you didn't dwell on that though, he doesn't need extensive aftercare, and he won't be giving it out either. but you are required to lay beside him, quietly, while he calibrates his thoughts. and maybe he'll hold your hand

B = Body part (favourite part of theirs and their partner’s)

he's very fond of a partner's neck. holding it, stroking it, squeezing it, licking it, biting it, breathing on it, nuzzling into it, pressing the needles of his gauntlet against it or into it, just admiring it. anything goes

for himself, he's fond of his hands. they're his instruments of destruction and pleasure, it's fascinating that a body part can do both, that it can bring pain and comfort, kill and give life. the dichotomy gets him going

C = Cum (anything to do with cum)

he's not intrigued or aroused by his own cum, in fact he'd rather not deal with the mess usually (so he's cumming inside of you, mouth or entrance, dealer's choice) but he's weak for his partner's and will beg to taste it, to have it in his mouth, to feel it on his fingertips

D = Dirty Secret (something they keep hidden)

not that he isn't willing to be gentle or vulnerable with a partner, but he would prefer to keep under wraps just how much he enjoys being held. he feels it weakens the facade he's built up. but nothing satiates his every desire more than being the little spoon

E = Experience (how experienced are they in bed)

he's had sexual encounters before, not a huge amount, and none in recent years, so he's a bit rusty. but he's very willing and eager, passionate and romantic, and extremely experimental with very little boundaries or hang-ups

F = Favourite Position

anyway that he can be in as much physical contact with his partner as possible, but a preferred position would be on your side, curled around one another in either configuration so that you can hold or be held while inside

second to that is holding or pining you against a wall either facing him or not so you can't escape from his clutches, it gives him a sense of control that he finds very enticing

G = Goofy (are they serious in the moment?)

i don't think he's void of a sense of humour, but he's not necessarily the silliest or most whimsical guy out there. and for him, sex is a transaction of vulnerability and emotion, so he takes it very seriously

H = Hair (how well groomed are they?)

he's not groomed at all. his pubic hair is patchy at best, due to scarring on his abdomen and thighs and the pubic mound, but what he does have he doesn't bother trimming or shaving. it's scraggly and wild and it suits him perfectly

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment, romantic aspect)

there's usually not many words uttered during intimate moments, very few sounds at all save for some growls and breathless whimpers, so he's not going to be showering you with praise or sentiments of adoration

but everything is in his touch, and the way he holds you, the moments where he leans back to look into your eyes, searching for a sign of consent to continue, that he isn't hurting you (or not hurting you enough), the way he holds himself back until you give him permission, is all very romantic

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

jonathan masturbates as a means of curing the urge. if you're not there, or if he doesn't have a partner at all, he will masturbate when he needs to, which isn't frequently. mostly at the height of excitement in plans or research or experimentation he might need to excuse himself to take care of things

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

fear play: if he can incorporate your phobias then that's kind of like exposure therapy, no?

medical roleplay: having you strapped to a chair and experimented on, touched and teased, edged and denied

sub/dom, abuse of authority: he enjoys being called doctor or professor or master and loves to abuse the power that comes with those titles in roleplay

pain: knives, needles, clamps, chains, whips, anything! you name it and he's willing to use it on you or have it used on him

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

jonathan will have sex anywhere, he's not particularly phased by any social implications. however, his preferred locations are always somewhere a little bit gross, a little bit risky, and a lot bit horrifying. in true goth fashion, he'll pick a graveyard or a pitch black alley or an abandoned building over a soft, warm bed

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

like everything else in his life, jonathan is motivated by adrenaline, whether produced by fear or anticipation or desperation. it's why he's into experimenting with risky or intense kinks, why he chooses places that send a shiver down your spine to romance you in, he is motivated by the nervous sweating, the uncertainty of danger, and the way your pupils dilate in terror before you cling to him for safety

N = NO (something they wouldn’t do)

he couldn't adopt a dynamic as a permanent state. if you're roleplaying or getting into some sub/dom stuff, it's only for the duration of the sexual or intimate encounter, after that yoe are both free to be yourself again

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving)

he loves giving and receiving!! when giving, he takes his time with a slow-paced and very attentive job. if he's receiving, he likes you to do the same. it feels more meaningful to him if it takes an hour to get to the end, and it's always more explosive if you've waited a while

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual?

he's slow and sensual mostly, but he can be a bit rough if you're into that sort of thing and ask him, or beg him, nicely. he prefers a soft and tender touch laced with passion, a grip that is tight but only enough to let you know he wants you and needs you to a feral and animalistic display of desires

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex)

he's not completely opposed to the idea, but the build up is important to him. the rising heat between two bodies, the desperate clawing at someone's skin out of the compounding need to touch them, holding them in your arms for as long as you can before letting them succumb to their orgasm, that's how he likes it

R = Risk (are they game to experiment?)

isn't that the only way? listen. he's a scientist. he's used to experimenting. it's not like he's going to ignore the opportunity to do so in bed. kinks, positions, toys, partners, even some slightly less traditional things (like have you ever been fucked while you're clutching at your chest in sheer terror?) you name it, he's down to give it a try

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

he's an old leathery man oh my god you're lucky to get once good session out of him. if he runs out of energy though, rest assured he would be more than happy to swap positions and let you take control, or at the very least, you're getting your orgasm one way or another, he might just have to use his other talents

T = Toy (do they own toys? do they use them?)

there's not much he wouldn't try, but his favourites tend to be anal themed. beads, vibrators, plugs, double edged dildos, he's into them all. vibrators don't necessarily do anything for him, the nerve damage he suffers from means he'd need something industrial powered to make him feel anything, but up inside of him, he's still sensitive

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he's an absolute bastard. teasing to him is part of the fun. the anticipation, especially with toys or more extreme kinks, the almost fear that dances in your eyes as you await his next move, wondering when he'll relent and just do whatever it is he's going to do to you

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make)

the noises he does make are low and raspy, almost silent. it's like he's whispering, definitely holding back. but he moans and whimpers softly depending on what's being done to him (or what he's doing) and he grunts from his throat when he gets close to his climax

W = Wild Card (a random headcanon)

he lost one testicle in the killer croc attack and never had an implant put in so he's kinda lopsided, and his cock has a large scar running down half the length, which makes for a very pleasant sensation

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

further to the above, jonathan's cock is skinny but long. it's a slightly paler colour than his skin, except for the head which has a pinky-purple hue. there's several icy blue veins that wrap around it, and i know he curves up don't argue

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

not particularly high. which is probably down to his preference for the build up and the adrenaline that comes from tension. he'd be quite happy to live in stifling sexual tension forever, than have a satisfactory release, but he understands that some people need to orgasm or at least get railed, so when that need crops up for a partner, he's happy to oblige

Z = ZZZ (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

this is the only time he ever sleeps, it's the only occasion where his body feels so properly rested and relaxed that he's able to drift off into a peaceful slumber, with nothing but thoughts of villainy and torture and horror playing merrily in his warped little mind

[look-at-the-soul]

The man behind the mask

Jonathan Crane x reader (Cillian Murphy as Scarecrow)

Requested by: @kpopgirlbtssvt Thank you so so much for sending this idea! I’m sorry it took me so long to write it, but I wanted it to be perfect… I hope you like this 🥰

A/N: I’m finally going through some requests I had saved in my drafts. And I knew the only way to get through this story was sharing something a little bit personal…

❗️When you go out (club, restaurant, pub, whatever) don’t leave your drink unattended, not for a single minute, I mean it, the only time I agree to go a club - I was never the big party girl- there was a group of 8-10 big men in red t-shirts, they stood out because they weren’t locals. One of them spiked my drink, I saw the bubbles like those alka-seltzer things, (I didn’t drink it), but then I made the mistake of going to the bathroom with my friend and when we came out, a group of four of them were walking towards us. Luckily our other friends intercepted us midway out of nowhere and we got out of the club through the emergency door, it was a miracle it was open, and I know for local news that’s a group that uses woman as human/organ trafficking, again, be careful when you go out 🙏🏻

Jonathan raised his eyebrows at the stupidity in legs sitting in front of him at the bar.

Four men rushed past them, talking in English with a foreign accent about a girl who was drinking the special cocktail.

“You know the consequences if you don’t get him first.” He warned standing up. “I don’t think you want to see my mask, again.”

He came all this way for nothing, that useless man only had excuse after excuse for not making a simple job.

When it came to his time, he was really jealous of it, he wanted things done efficiently. That’s why he decided to leave before he lost the little patience he was given. Taking the stairs to the first floor, he made a face when he found the place crowded, but the frown increased when someone accidentally bumped into him.

“‘m sorry, I don’t feel really well.” The girl apologized before passing out right in front of him, he barely had time enough to catch her in his arms.

“No, no, no. Ughhh.” He groaned.

The group of foreigners started walking towards him.

“Move over scrawny.” Said one of them.

The rest of them laughed, bringing back all the horrible memories of his childhood when his classmates bullied him for being short and skinny.

Closing his eyes, Jonathan swallowed hard, placing the girl carefully on the floor. “Take that back.” He warned.

They all looked like gigantic monsters with big and strong bodies.

The group erupted in laughter.

It was a natural thing to take the scarecrow mask from the inside pocket of his suit and putting on while taking the small gas device in his hand.

Pressing the button, the gas came out of the mask without a warning and they started screaming uncontrollably, as they watched their worsts nightmares come to life.

Still wearing the mask but not using the gas, Jonathan looked at the girl, who briefly opened her eyes. “Help m-”

Was all she could mumble before passing out again.

Shit. Jonathan thought, he wasn’t a hero, he wasn’t a savior, but he couldn’t leave this girl just like that.

So against his will, he took her in his arms.

***

Lighting the fireplace he cursed himself for giving in and bringing her to his house, but as he saw her features he confirmed he couldn’t leave her at the club.

He knew she had been drugged, Jonathan knew the modus operandi of the club; every night they picked a couple of girls, spike their drinks and take them for human or organs trafficking.

It was a terrible escenario, yes, but it was a reality. Something he didn’t have any business in.

Although he was involved now, because of the girl sleeping in his couch. Walking around, he grabbed a needle, electrolytes, and some vitamins, to try to contrarrest the effects of the drugs.

He was surprised by his own kindness towards this stranger, but as he watched her frown soften, he wondered if he wasn’t as terrible as he thought of himself.

Your head felt as if it was smashed against a wall several times, you felt dizzy, the whole room spinning around, your entire body hurt making you wonder if a train hit you and you didn’t know.

Then you saw it, something connected to the inside of your arm.

As you tried to take the tape off, a soft hand came to stop your movement.

“It’s alright, you’re safe now.”

The sharp move made your whole body ache, as you tried to move away.

“Where’s the man with the mask?” You asked feeling groggy.

“Everything is fine. Drink this.” Taking the tablets and water, you thanked him in a whisper.

Your eyes dancing across the room, you could see it was still dark outside. And with that you drifted back to sleep again.

Not noticing when Jonathan checked your vitals three times during your sleep.

When you finally woke up, it was a whole new day, the day was sunny and a soft melody could be heard in the background.

Your mouth felt dry, and your vision was a bit blurry.

“You will feel better tomorrow, just need to have some rest.” The deep voice startled you from behind.

Looking down your body, you were covered by a light blanket from your waist down, the upper part of your body had a hoodie on, you felt your strapless dress disheveled, thankfully it was covered.

“W-who are you?” What the hell happened last night?

“Dr. Crane.” He answered looking at her through his glasses.

But by the scared look that crossed your features, he sighed annoyed by this soft side of him.

“Jonathan.”

He was always Dr. Crane, or the Scarecrow, he was never Jonathan. Not in public at least.

And he felt awfully naked showing someone that part of him.

“Y/N Y/LN.” You stated still unsure. “I-I need to use the bathroom.”

He was still a stranger but he seemed like a good person too.

“Take the hall, to your right.”

With a small nod, you followed his instructions, but before disappearing in the hall, you turned to face him.

“You were the man wearing the mask, weren’t you?” You remembered it too vividly; his voice, his eyes, the way he protected you.

Surprised by your words and your memories, he nodded.

But he was even more surprised when you rushed towards him to give him an unexpected hug.

“Thank you… for saving me.”

He couldn’t remember the last time someone thanked him for something, or the last time he got a hug like that.

But it definitely meant more than he could explain.

As you were in the bathroom, Jonathan kept his eyes closed, still too engrossed in your perfume and the way your arms wrapped around him.

Why did it burn? And why did he wanted more?

Those were questions he didn’t have answers to, but he was soon pulled out from his thoughts as he heard a loud noise in the bathroom.

Opening the door, Jonathan found you unconscious on the floor.

“Y/N!” Jonathan tried shaking your arms slightly. But there was no response, the drugs you consumed at the club affected your system, even though he knew the possible side effects, he got scared. He couldn’t take you to a hospital, he couldn’t explain someone had spiked your drink and he tried to help you.

With a groan he lifted your motionless body from the floor, walking back to the big couch and one more time, providing you with another dose of the cocktail he used earlier. Thankfully he had everything you needed right there at home, he had a couple of medicines he considered to be necessary in his emergency kit.

Moving away the hair from your face, he found himself smiling for no reason, or at least he wasn’t capable of finding the right words.

Checking your pulse, he finally took a deep breath as he saw the numbers coming down to a normal rate. Unsure if you were allergic to anything, he kept the doses to the minimum, and added something else to help you get rid of the drugs in your system faster.

Emptying the contents of your stomach wasn’t something nice, you felt more embarrassed than ever, but after you regained consciousness, Jonathan assured you it was the only way.

You didn’t know this man, but he saved your life, not only at the club, but by taking care of you the way he was doing it. He gently explained you the side effects these drugs could do, he made sure you stayed hydrated and was constantly checking if you needed anything.

“I’m sorry your free night from the hospital shift ended up like this, taking care of a groggy.” You admitted embarrassed, hiding your blush in the glass of water he offered you. “First time I go to a club for a birthday, I was never the big party girl-type and I pass out… how did I end up here?” You asked embarrassed.

Jonathan’s features changed, he looked serious and concerned. “They drugged you, Y/N.”

It took you several minutes to process his statement, your hands started shaking as Jonathan adjusted his glasses on his nose.

“Shouldn’t have say that, sorry.” He offered you a half smile, he was nervous.

“How do you know that?”

“There’s a lot of people behind them, you were lucky they couldn’t take you.”

“I was lucky because you saved me.” But as you saw him shaking his head, you repeated it. “You did.”

“No, it was Scarecrow.” He mumbled.

Frowning you asked him what he meant, but he shook his head again and stood up.

“You need some food.” You saw him shifting his weight from one foot to another. “What would you like?”

“Indian?” You asked with a smile and he knew he was in trouble.

Big troubles.

Some time later, you were sitting with him in his immaculate kitchen telling him that you were a teacher of seventh graders, but at the moment you were enjoying the school break. Without really noticing, you shared a big part of your personal dreams with him, for some reason he had this mysterious energy around him, but you could also see he was humble.

But also extremely shy and quiet.

Leaning back in your chair, you asked: “What’s your specialization?”

Jonathan was about to take a sip of his drink, when your question took him by surprise.

“Let me guess.” You wondered. “Pediatrician?”

What was he supposed to say? Oh, and by the way… I make sane people go crazy and then keep them locked in an asylum?

“Cardiologist?” But as you saw the doubts in his eyes, you pursed your lips in a tight line. “Sorry, don’t want to bother you, I can get all detective sometimes.”

“No, is it that… I’ve a place for people who can’t be on their own,” he took a deep breath and looked down at his plate.

“See?! I knew you have a big heart.” You stated in a cheerful mode, feeling better.

He felt terrible for lying, but he didn’t have another choice.

“Listen…” He tried to explain but you cut him off.

“Don’t be so modest Doctor… sometimes you have to admit you’re a hero and you also need to learn to take compliments.” Picking up the things you used, you turned around to throw it in the trash. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart for what you did, I feel much better now.”

Against his will, you called a taxi to go back home, not without thanking him once more for what he did.

But your gratitude wasn’t enough for him.

There was something else growing in him, something stronger, something he wasn’t capable of naming yet. Something he had never felt before.Jonathan felt an uncontrollable need to be around you.

He had never cared about anyone else apart of himself. But after taking care of you, he genuinely felt like he could be a better person, after getting to know you a little he knew he needed your cheerful personality around.

And as the days passed by, he wasn’t able to let go of your memory.

But little did he knew that every night after he saved you, you would dream of that night at the club, the way his blue eyes stared at you as he carried you in his arms.

You were only able to remember small glimpses of him, everything was so blurry unfortunately, but deep down in your memory, images of him looking down at you through that mask showed up constantly in your dreams.

It wasn’t the fascinating color of his eyes, no, it was something else. You were grateful that he saved you, yes, but it was more than that.

Realizing that he was afraid to give the first step, you decided to show up in his front door the next Thursday at midday.

A maid welcomed you and asked you to wait for Dr. Crane inside, she would announce you shortly.

“This better be important Dolores, I don’t like to be interrupted when I’m doing my experiments.” You heard him say as he took the stairs from the basement.

You saw the shocked expression in his face as he found you in front of him. Maybe it was absurd to think that he would welcome you with open arms, he was probably busy.

“Sorry if I interrupted you, Jonathan… I just wanted to give you this back.” You showed him the hoodie he used to cover you.

When he looked down, your nerves increased. Did you made a mistake thinking you could take the initiative?

Embarrassed for your actions, you left the bag of food you also brought. Turning around, you wished the taxi was still outside.

“You have no idea how many times I wished I could see you again.” He finally stated as you reached the front door.

“What did you say?” Your heart started beating at a crazy speed.

“Sorry if I was rude, I wasn’t expecting to actually see you again.”

You smiled and relaxed a little. “Well you didn’t ask me for my phone last week.”

Frowning, he answered: “big mistake.”

A nervous chuckle left your mouth.

“Honestly, I didn’t think you would like to see me again.”

Now it was your turn to frown. “What makes you say that? You’re a good man, I will be forever grateful with you.”

There were things that would probably make you think he was a monster.

Jonathan walked away from you, turning his back at you, hands in his pockets.

“The mask is supposed to have the opposite effect, Y/N.”

Taking in his words, you could see the battle he was fighting inside.

“Show me… Show me the mask.” You pleaded.

“No.” He immediately interjected.

“I already saw the mask, Jonathan and what I saw is that the man wearing it, saved my life.”

Seeing your smile made him forget about everything. He was convinced he would only see you in his dreams, but you made him question himself so many things he thought were figured out by now.

Staring at the mask in his eyes images of all the people he had tortured flashed before him, and the last thing he wanted to cause you was that, he was terrified to show you who he really was. The more he thought about it, the more he confirmed he shouldn’t really be walking back from the basement with the mask on.

You didn’t know you were holding your breath until you were close enough to see his blue eyes through the mask. The memories of that night playing in the back of your mind, you suddenly remembered listening someone screaming, you could only see Jonathan’s back, everything around you was moving, blurry, as if you were underwater.

Your hand moved up to touch gently the seams over the closed mouth. Had he been silenced in the past? Had someone forced him to see the world from behind the mask? Was he trying to protect himself from someone?

“There was something else…” You could see through the holes that his eyes were closed. “A gas.” You remembered.

“Y/N…”

He didn’t want you to see that side of him, he didn’t want you to see Scarecrow.

“What are you afraid of?”

“That it will push you away.” He whispered.

But you encouraged him to show you the gas as well.

Jonathan swallowed hard, afraid to scare you, he was ready to see the horror in your face. But his breath got stuck in his throat as you didn’t even flinch, when the gas dissipated and you were still there, he couldn’t believe it.

Confused, he blinked. “Y-You didn’t see it?”

“See what?” You frowned. “I only see your mask.”

There wasn’t something that scared you?

Hesitating, you bit you lower lip a little while your hands touched the hem of the mask covering his face.

Maybe you had to be drugged in order to meet him.

In a very intimate and delicate motion, you pulled it from his head. Holding the mask in one hand, you ran your free hand through his disheveled hair to smooth it, loving the way it fell against his forehead.

His fingers felt cold against your cheek, but his lips were the perfect fit for yours when he titled his head to kiss you. Tentative at first, to then move at a slow rhythm.

Accidentally, Jonathan pressed the gas button as his hands circled your waist, taking you both by surprise. Looking into each other’s eyes, you both chuckled at it, only to start kissing again.

And for the first time, he knew that he could show someone the real him, the man behind the mask.

***

Tag list: @lyarr24 @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @lespendy @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @onlydeadcells @esposadomd @stevie75 @strayrockette @the-forest-witchh @forgottenpeakywriter @elenavampire21 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @ange-thoughts @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @kpopgirlbtssvt

Master list

[huntingingoodwill]

you’re! ruining! date! night! (j.c.)

masterlist

send requests for my 1.3k sleepover!

requested by: anon

prompt: "i've waited so long for this."

a/n: main atrocity in this is the reader using a fork to eat korean fried chicken instead of a gloved hand. i stand by the hc that jonathan is vegetarian all week except for fridays where he gets a free pass. please enjoy.

“I’ve waited so long for this.” Jon’s breath was warm against your shoulder as he sighed into it. He pressed his nose into the crook of your neck, his dark, dishevelled hair brushing against your jaw. 

Your nose scrunched at the ticklish sensation, laughter bubbling in your throat as you leaned away. His arms locked themselves around your waist, circling you in even as you tried to squirm out his grasp. 

“Maybe,” You began, adding oil to the saucepan, tilting it and watching as the liquid lazily circled around its surface, “You wouldn’t have to wait so long for date night if you didn’t insist on spending every night working late at Arkham.” 

“Don’t get smart with me.” He deadpanned, chest rumbling against your back as he grumbled. 

“Oh,” You sighed, overly saccharine in your sarcasm. “No one could ever be smarter than you, darling.” 

You felt him tense behind you, arms growing still around your waist. 

“Oh Jon, I was just teasing! I hope you aren’t gonna get into one of your moods again-” You sighed, trying to placate him when he cut you off, clapping his hand over your mouth. 

He lifted his finger to his lips, bright blue eyes alert as they darted around the room.

“He’s here.” He whispered, eyes turning toward the front door of his apartment. 

Slowly, he raised his arm, fingers feeling across the wall until he found the light switch. Click. The apartment plunged into darkness. You glanced at Jon, watching as he clenched his jaw, steeling himself as the pale, cold moonlight streaming in through the window casted him in its glow. 

He lifted his hand from your lips, pushing down on your shoulder. You followed his prompt, crouching down, shrouded by darkness in a shadowy corner of his kitchen. 

His gaze never leaving the front door, he smoothed a reassuring hand over your hair as you, tucked your legs into your chest, trying to make yourself as small as possible. 

He crept toward the door, feeling for his briefcase as he stepped through the living room. He took his time, opening the black, leather case open at a painstakingly slow speed. The click of its closures cut through the silence, the air thick with tension. He felt for a vial of his toxin, feeling its cool glass in his clammy hand. He reached for his mask, slipping it over his head. 

He reached out for the door knob. You watched, silencing yourself, hand held over your mouth. You could feel your laboured breath against your palm. 

His fingers barely grazed the door knob before it burst open, Batman’s silhouette illuminated in the light of the dingy hall. You rolled your eyes. This guy again. 

“Looks like I found you, Dr. Crane.” He growled, swinging at Jon. 

Jon managed to dodge the first one, but the next one caught him in the jaw, and you winced as you watched him bob backward, almost stumbling to the floor as he blinked away the pain. 

Bruce used that moment of vulnerability, shoving him against the wall with such force the window rattled in its pane. 

“You’re going away for a long, long ti-!” Bruce’s raspy voice trailed off into a squeak as you crept up behind him from the kitchen, bashing him on the head with your saucepan. 

“You’re!” Smack. “Ruining!” Bang. “Date!” Whack. “Night!” You screamed, using all your might to hit him on the head, over and over. 

He became very still, blinking, and you worried for a moment that you’d get out of this in cuffs, and he’d only sustain a couple of light bruises. 

Then, dazed, he fell to the floor. 

You huffed, wicking sweat away from your brow as his heavy body laid sprawled out on the floor. Your chest heaved from exertion, and, suddenly exhausted, you allowed the pan to slip out your hand, clattering to the floor. 

You fell into Jon’s arms as he wrapped his arms around you, smoothing down your hair. 

“I’m too tired to cook.” You grumbled into his shoulder. “I think I can’t, anyway. The pan’s dented. My poor pan.”  

“I’ll get you a new one.” Jon cooed, gently rocking back and forth as the two of you stood, wilting into each other’s arms, ignoring the unconscious body on the floor. 

You sighed, cheek pressing into the sharp bone of Jon’s shoulder as you nodded down at Bruce. 

“What do we do? Date night’s ruined. And there’s the matter of him, of course.” 

“No,” Jon said, putting his hands on your shoulders. “It’s not ruined yet. I know what to do.” 

“Hm..?” Bruce grumbled, the fog that clouded his eyes, making the world around him a blur, slowly lifting as he blinked away sleep. “Huh…what…? Where- Crane!”  He yelled, registering where he was. 

“Rise and shine, sleepyhead!” You smiled, your voice so bright it cut through the throbbing pain blooming all across Bruce’s head. You sauntered over from the front door, kicking it shut with your heel as two bags of takeaway hung off your hands, swinging with every step you took. 

You set down the boxes on the dining table, three places already set: you, Jon, and a last minute setting for Bruce, tied up to the dining room chair. 

His arms strained against the rope, and he struggled, only succeeding in rocking the wooden chair back and forth, its legs squeaking across the floor. 

Jon came over, two beer bottles in hand. He held one up to his mouth, pulling the cap off with his teeth, the sound of the fizzy drink sizzling from the bottle. 

“Cool, huh?” You gushed to Bruce, keeping your hands busy as you opened up the takeaway boxes. The greasy, fragrant smell of Korean fried chicken filled the air. “It’s one of his most redeemable qualities.” You cooed, laughing as Jon rolled his eyes. 

“Hush.” He mumbled, bringing the other bottle to his lips. 

“That, and I broke the bottle opener.” You whispered. 

You skewered a piece of the tender chicken with a fork, wagging it in front of Bruce. 

“Here comes the choo choo train! No?” You frowned as Bruce glared at you, gaze dripping with derision. 

“C’mon, I promise it’s good! Say ahhhhh!” You exclaimed. 

Bruce inhaled, taking a deep sigh, wishing he had chosen a different career path. 

“Ahhh.” He grumbled, opening his mouth and allowing you to feed him a piece of chicken, chewing irritatedly. 

“Good job.” You smiled. 

You turned to Jon, catching his eye as he raised an eyebrow at you. 

“Don’t be jealous.” You quipped, a cheeky smile growing on your face. You stabbed another piece of chicken onto the fork, making your way over to Jon. 

You slid into his lap, feeding him a piece before throwing your arms around his neck, planting a kiss on his stubbled cheek as he hummed gratefully. 

“Ew.” You heard a voice grumble behind you, turning to see a disgusted Bruce, all but forced to watch your displays of affection. 

“You’re the one who interrupted our date night!” You laughed, Jon’s hands wrapping around your waist. 

“Get a room.” He huffed. 

“You’re in our apartment!”

[robinofgothamcity]

♡ character: jonathan crane x reader

♡ pronouns used: she / her

♡ note: not checked for grammar or spelling mistakes / can we talk about the chokehold cillian murphy has on us bc of oppenheimer? legit busting out this fanfic of scarecrow bc cillian played him. might be ooc but who cares? cillian murphy scarecrow will always be superior

"i think gotham university is actually the worst but it's cheap and gives me the degree without having too many student loans," you said as you stirred your iced coffee. being a senior in college, all the consumed your life was finishing off your last year strong and trying to pay off your debts as soon as you could, "so does that mean you won't be coming to the party?"

you gave your friend an eyeroll, "my love, what kind of 24 year old rolls up to a frat party? no less on a Tuesday night? some of the boys there will probably try to get laid just so they can say they had a night with a cougar," you and your friend instantly started laughing, "but i am willing to go to that bar this weekend!"

just as you started getting up get to refill your coffee, you noticed a man standing in front of you. you knew he was a professor here but you didn't know for which department. you gave him a small smile as a hello and deciding just to pour your coffee without saying much.

you were pouring your ice into your cup and minding your business when you noticed that Dr.Crane dropped his own coffee on the bar. you quickly took out a stack of napkins, instantly helping him clean up. the coffee was searing hot which made you realize that you were burning your hand in the process.

"fuck, that hurts!" you whispered. Dr.Crane immediately pulled your hand back, "here, let me see," he said as he analyzed your now red hand. it was burning and your hand started to bubble up from the heat, "we're going to have ointment on that as soon as possible. you're going to need to come with me."

you were a bit thrown off by how blunt he was being however you knew Dr.Crane was known for being a bit stand offish. he wasn't the kind of professor that everyone got along with or even went to his office to talk too.

he dragged you off to his office, immediately pulling out his emergency aid kit and started the healing process. you sat back, texting your friend to pack your things off and leaving it in front of his office. you didn't say a word as he was murmuring to himself, "this might sting so brace yourself," he whispered.

you instantly shot up in pain, trying not to yell but the pain of the ointment made you grab his arm and squeeze it. he chuckled as you were trying to show that you weren't in pain however it was very evident that your pain tolerance was not that high.

"you did well for someone that just had rubbing alcohol rubbed into an open wound," you gave him a weary smile before he started placing a bandage wrap on your hand, "so, what's your major?" he asked jumping into a completely different conversation.

"early education! I want to be a preschool teacher!" he hummed in interest, "love children?" you shook your head in agreement, "i love teaching them however to have some of my own is not really my gist," he nodded, "that should do it. keep the bandage on until Saturday and after that, you should place some more healing ointment on it but let the wound breathe. you don't need it to get infected."

"thank you so much Dr.Crane," he brushed you off, "it's not your fault. I was the one who dropped coffee on the bar." he helped you up from the chair and opened the door, "what is your name?"

you gave him your name as you shook his hand with your bandaged one, "you're welcomed into my office at any time." that was all he said before walking away into the next hallway. you didn't know what he meant by that but you didn't think too much into it. you grabbed your things and rubbed your bandages as you started to walk away from his office.

+

Saturday night came around as you were getting dressed for the night. you were meeting your friends at a bar not too far from your apartment. you were wearing a tennis skirt and a tank top to battle the heat that was still lingering in Gotham. you knew that you were bound to regret it since the bar all of you wanted to go to was a bit more on the expensive side and probably had the air conditioning cranked all the way up.

you pulled on your shoes and went to meet your friends in front of the bar. as you were waiting for them to arrive, you noticed a couple of men entering. you could have sworn one of them looked like Dr.Drane but you figured that couldn't be Dr.Crane. he didn't seem like the bar attending type.

"hey, isn't that Dr.Crane from the psychology department?" one of you friends said later into the night. you turned around and true to her word, Dr.Crane and two other men were sitting down at the bar, sipping on what looked like whiskey. you could have sworn that he was staring at you but you shook that feeling away, "I think it is. I could've sworn I saw him earlier but didn't think that was actually him."

you wanted to get another drink but suddenly, you felt a bit nervous approaching the bar. you could sense Dr.Cranes very blue eyes now starting to look at you but the urge to get another beer was calling your name.

one of your friends noticed how you were drinking a bit more but as soon as she saw the professor staring at you, it all connected.

"oh, you're scoring high, aren't you?" she asked laughing. you shook your head no, "that's a professor at the university I attend. I might a bit desperate but not that desperate."

"what are the chances that Crane has the hots for you,-" "very likely as he is coming over here with two glasses of wine in his hand."

your eyes widened, not knowing what to do. you admittedly tried to fix your hair as he approached your table, "I figured it'd be polite to bring you a glass of wine before I whisked you away from your friends," he said handing it over to you, "I just wanted to ask how your hand healed."

your friends instantly moved away from the table, "if I remember telling you correctly, you could have removed the bandage today," he stated. you chuckled awkwardly, "uh, I got scared and figured I'd have a friend help me in case I needed it rebandaged. he's a pre-med student so I knew I could trust him."

"scared? of a little burn? come on, let me help you."

you didn't say a thing and let him take the lead. he grabbed your hand and unwrapped it, sensing that your hand was shaking a bit. he examined the now healed wound. a burn mark that he was sure was going to scar but other than that, nothing to be concerned of.

"ah, as I suspected. not much besides scarring. once you get home, apply more healing ointment," you nodded in agreement, "thank you Dr.Crane," he chuckled lowly, "i'm not at work, please call me Jonathan."

"thank you a lot Jonathan-," "come sit with my friends and I."

you wanted to protest but you didn't see your friends in the same spot anymore. they had all wandered off with men they saw to hang out with for the night. you swore to yourself that you'd end up punching them for leaving you alone with Jonathan for the night.

"oh, of course. I hope I'm not intruding," you whispered. Jonathan shook his head, "not at all." you walked up to his friends who seemed to be whispering to each other until you walked up.

"this is my lovely companion ( your name). ( your name ), these are my partners who work alongside me at Arkham. Jervis Tetch and Edward Nashton."

you gave them a smile and shook their hands, "it's a pleasure," you said. Jervis placed a kiss on the back of your hand, "no, pleasure is all mine," he said.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow as his friend indicating to back off. you sat next to Jonathan as the three talked about various different things. you didn't care to speak up as the wine you were drinking was enough enjoyment.

"so, you attend Gotham University? what is your degree in?" Edward suddenly asked you. you perked up a bit, "oh! early childhood education. intending to be a preschool teacher!"

"interesting, developing the minds of young children, how sweet," he replied. you nodded as you didn't catch the wink that Edward sent Jonathan's way, "yeah! it's fun being around all of them and being able to teach them the fundamentals of life!"

you got up, excusing yourself to get another glass of wine as the three men all watched you leave.

"I understand why she became of interest. pretty little thing, isn't she?" Jervis asked. Jonathan agreed, "with a little help from Jervis, I'm sure she'll be a great help with all of our plans."

Jonathan needed a partner. not so much of romance, although he didn't mind if that's how it worked out with you, but with someone who could help him get Gotham under his ruling. there were certain characteristics that intrigued him about you and after doing extensive research on you, he knew you'd be the perfect one.

you were dancing to the music that was playing in the bar as you awaited your wine. he went up to you as the lights dimmed down and the music got louder.

"no one is here to watch us dance with the lights now being lowered. mind?" now with the buzz of the alcohol in your system, you agreed and followed him to the floor. you were dancing against him as he remained as stiff as a board.

you didn't seem to care as he knew that him acting out a bit ridiculously was only temporary. through his research, he knew you were a party girl in your early 20s. your social medias didn't hide it and the photos you were tagged in seemed like you had a bit of a promiscuous side to you as well.

"you're a gorgeous girl, how come your out here without a partner," you shrugged in response, "romance never seemed to find me." he chuckled as bent down to your ear, "even though it is against policy that professors have any kind relationship with a pupil, I did see that you are in your last year."

you nodded in agreement as he noticed that your eyes had gotten lowered due to the alcohol, "so does that mean you want to see me after this?" he hummed in agreement, "way more than you realize." you giggled cutely as you turned around and faced him.

his glasses were fogged due to how warm the bar was.

"well I can't say that I'm opposed to that idea," you whispered. he smirked as he realized Jervis' power must've been working, "I love that you're on board with the idea." his hands found your thighs as he rubbed them.

you giggled once again as you smashed your lips against his. you didn't care if this landed back in your car or your place but the higher his hands went, the warmer your face got. your tongue was fighting against his as your breath quickened up.

"how about we take this back to my house?" you nodded excitedly as Jervis and Edward noticed that Jonathan's plan went onto succeed, "I guess we're no longer needed?" Jervis asked Edward. he nodded as he chuckled, "ever the ladies man, isn't he?" Edward responded.

the two friends shook their heads in disbelief as they noticed you hanging off of Jonathan's side, placing kisses on his next as his hand remained rubbing against your thigh.

[madame-fear]

You: I love murder mysteries! Jonathan , trying to impress them: I've been a suspect in four murder cases.

[apocalypse-shuffle]

SCARECROW | JONATHAN CRANE (general canon)

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“Freakum Dress” (Scarecrow | Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader)

| Tasked with going to a gala with your miserable boyfriend things are not looking up, then one of the Rogues makes a special appearance. Whether that’s a good thing or not is…yet to be decided.

| SFW, showing off a new outfit, (TW: murder, mild gore), reader has a good for nothing boyfriend -chubby!reader

| Pic source: Batman - The Long Halloween

| 1k+ words

“Are you sure this will fit the theme?” You question through the bathroom door.

Your partner sighs so loud it passes straight through the reinforced wood to reach your ears.

“How many times are you gonna ask me that question? Either come out or don’t, but I’m leaving. You’ve been in there for like an hour.”

He walks off then and in a fit you finish fixing your hair and then throw your spray bottle on the counter. An hour. He was acting a fool over you taking an hour, as opposed to his measly ass twenty minutes, to get ready.

You pull open the door and yell: “Are you fucking kidding me?”

He yells back at you from the living room.

“Hell yeah! You’ve got 10 minutes before I go without you!”

Your nose scrunches and you glare at the closed bedroom door before sucking your teeth.

Fine. This was just going to have to be the outfit you settled on. The man had given you barely a day to get your shit together for his gala, spouting about wanting to show you off, only to throw a fit when you started asking what he deemed to be too many questions.

You brush your hands down the sides of your dress. Personally you didn’t think asking what the theme was once could be classified as ‘too many questions’, but whatever. You already know he’s moody as hell. One of the many things you’ve been putting up with since agreeing to date him almost two years ago now.

You size yourself up in the mirror. At least you looked good. Your boyfriend might have been in a mood but you’d been cooped up in the house for too long. It’d do you some good to go out.

“Yes ma’am!” you spin a little to look at the back of the dress before wiping away a smudge of your lipstick from your chin. You smile then lock off the light and leave the bathroom.

“I think I’m ready,” you tell your boyfriend from where he’s sitting at the dining table. Then it’s your turn to get spontaneously annoyed as he looks you up and down.

He licks his lips. “Oh, you're in theme alright.”

You scoff, giving him a tight lipped smile as you grab your purse.

“Good to know,” you open the front door and toss him his keys as he follows you. “Now let’s go.”

•••

You can tell as soon as you enter the gala, clutching your boyfriend’s arm while he holds you close by the waist, that you weren't quite in theme.

It’s a Halloween party, so you know you’re not completely off, but while you’re dressed in a backless sparkly orange floor length cocktail dress, the other women around you are definitely not so chaste.

While you’d thought you’d go with something more classic that showed off your figure (fupa and all), everyone else, who clearly were allowed time to put their outfits together and told the actual theme, was dressed in giant ball gowns and elegant bouta and colombina masks.

You narrow your eyes and blow off air as you’re dragged around like a prized pony. Your boyfriend mostly takes to showing you off to every manner of his twitchy eyed business associates. You swear you break out in hives just being in their vicinity.

When he’s introducing you to the CFO of his company the man is simularily twitchy, problem is this time his eyes aren’t the only thing with no manners. You have to knock his hand off thrice and endure a chocolate innuendo and some real shitty flirting attempts all while your impotent excuse for a partner just cracks jokes and kisses ass.

It’s when the old man utters: “You got yourself a real good woman, Mr. Daniels, but I’d never let mine go out dressed so inappropriately.” that you really lose it.

There’s a split second where you just have to take in that those words actually just came out of his mouth before you gut react.

You cock your head, “Excuse me-?”

Stefan grabs you by the arm and jerks you back from where you’ve taken a step towards his superior.

“Excuse us! We're just going to get some air, Sir!”

Then you're gone, being dragged off to an empty balcony by your boyfriend and his tacky as hell penny loafers.

“You’re a fucking punk, you know that?”

“Don’t do this shit right now, Y/n.”

“I’ma do whatever the hell I please after you just stood there like a dummy and let your boss harass me.”

He shakes his head with a scoff and deposits you in a low lit corner of the balcony. He stands in front of you, blocking you from the rest of the attendees in the main room as you take a moment to catch yourself.

The long suffering way he rolls his eyes is oddly hurtful.

“And so what?”

“So what?” Your eyes widen and you stare at him in bewilderment.

“Yeah,” he stresses. “You know how hard I’ve been working to get this promotion and he says a few words and you lose your shit! Can’t you just support me for on—!”

“—Ohhh, don’t you just hate it when couples fight?”

The both of you freeze.

Stefan doesn’t even turn but you can’t help the way your eyes track to find the source of the voice. At the corner of the small three person balcony, just out of your line of sight, a figure sits crouched on the stone railing. Glowing red eyes stare back at you where the person’s balancing effortlessly and you fight the urge to let out some unholy mix of a choked back whimper and a noise of pure frustration.

Of course one of Gotham’s Rogues was what your night needed.

You’re still staring at him when Stefan finally unglues himself and turns to stare too, and the longer you look - the longer anyone takes to speak - the more the darkness seems to aid in distorting the image of Scarecrow taking stock like he’s high above the fields.

Honestly, the fear he elicits isn’t unfounded. A far cry from the Dr. Crane you once learned under and TA’d for, this version of the man barely registered as human.

Spindly arms and legs make up his majority, the features of an otherwise completely normal man but the way he wears them makes your skin crawl. As far as you can tell there’s been no sightly gas permeating in the air that wasn’t Gotham’s usual smog, but a steady tremur is settling under your flesh anyway.

“U-um,” Stef clears his throat, taking a shaky step even closer to the man on the other side of the balcony. He holds his hands up and they shake down to their very marrow. You feel him. “Listen,” he’s saying, and that’s his negotiation voice.

“I don’t want any problems, alright? Just- look,” he indicts you over his shoulder and instantly your heart seizes with betrayal.

“Stef-!”

You try to grab him, get him to stop. To think. Two years worth of a relationship down the drain for this? Sefan isn’t having it though and shrugs your hand off before taking yet another step towards the man of nightmares.

Your arms fall to your sides in defeat as he starts trying to make a deal, throwing you under the bus in any way he can possibly think to.

“I’m not worth it, alright, Man? Her though? She’s got enough trauma for the both of us. Just let me go and- and I won’t call the cops or anything. I’ll just leave, yeah?”

At Scarecrow's continued silence you watch detached as Stefan gets even closer, hands clasped together with a big wobbly smile on his face.

“C’mon man, right? You can’t tell me you don’t want a piece of that. She’s so fucked up it’s a miracle she’s not been committed yet…”

Your absolutely gutless waste of an ex keeps going on but you stop listening to him the second Scarecrow starts physically responding to his words.

Still performing his balancing act, like a great perching crow the man leans forward slightly. Though he’s clearly gearing up to address Stefan it seems - to your great horror - that he’s looking at you instead.

The salt from your tears burns your eyes, and similarly your heart turns to cinder in your chest as the villain contemplates you.

You glare at Stefan’s back.

Fucking Stefan.

Scarecrow cuts the man’s treacherous word vomit off not a fiery blink later.

“Alright now,” he says, tone nearly placating. That grand scythe the villain fancies so much makes its first appearance, swinging around to threaten at Stefan’s space without falter, “that’ll do, Pig,” Scarecrow rasps, and Stefan perks up, hopeful.

You have a split second to wonder what the fuck that means before the scythe retreats then comes swinging back around towards an unsuspecting Stefan.

All it takes is one fluid blur of movement and then in a slow slide you watch, breathe lodged uncomfortably in your throat, as his head separates from his body with a slick sound.

His head falls to the ground with a wet thud and you blink wildly down at it. So wildly in fact that when his body follows - knees first as if in prayer and then sprawled unceremoniously to the ground - you barely react.

A shift, boots scratching against stone, and your eyes snap back upwards.

The long pointy tipped hat he’s wearing falls languidly from the left to the right in his exertion before his dark gaze is panning back to meet your own.

A beckoning hand is held out to you, signs of a human hand inviting you closer. For a brief wandering second your eyes slide to the glass doors, to the party beyond, and you imagine.

Would you even make it past the first step? Jumping over your former partner’s fallen body would slow you down, and despite his skinny frame everyone in Gotham’s seen Scarecrow go toe to toe with the Dark Knight. Could you stand up against that?

The crudely stitched together burlap sack seems itself to breathe as the Scarecrow inhales to speak.

“Tick…tock,” he chimes and your fantasies fall to impossible pieces at your feet.

Blearily you blink over at him, eyes thankfully dry again.

“Breath,” he instructs a moment later, and despite your fear - or maybe because of it - you do as you’re told.

That first gasp of chilly air cuts its way down your dry throat so horribly you feel it the whole way down.

It’s enough of a shock to your system that you finally push through the trudge of your own terror to accept his invitation. Like this you only have to step over Stefan’s feet to cross the balcony and lay your hand in his.

Long pointed nails prick, light but incessant, into the skin of your palms as he appears to closely inspect your plump figure.

He’s bringing your hand up so he can spin you when he pauses, head tilting to the side. You swallow nervously and your hand starts shaking even more in his grip as he silently regards you.

“Ms. L/n?”

Shit.

“Who?” Your choked out words snap everything back in motion.

The cloth around the masked figure's mouth seems to stretch taunt, giving the nearest hint of a smile.

“Oh darling,” he croons. “You have just made the night so much more interesting.”

Up close like this he recognizes the face of his most engaging student from back in the day and you … ? Well, your stomach drops as you’re faced with the full attention of a madman.

Unbeknownst to you as your conversation was transpiring, mini squadrons of henchmen had infiltrated and were terrorizing the elites schmoozing on the inside. Clouds of sickly looking gas floating into the air.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

Jonathan: *gives you a rebreather* "I expect a summary of tonight's events and an analysis of at least three different people's reactions by the time we leave.

You: *startled blinking & blindly taking whatever he hands you*

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it! this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

[dragoneye01]

Under My Skin (Jonathan Crane x Reader)

Word Count: 1,222

Summary: Everyone gets under Jonathan Crane's skin, even the one he likes the most. But you're different.

It was easy to get under Jonathan Crane’s skin. Most people were annoying, picky, and irked him. They got under his skin, but you.  .  . you were different. Oh yes, you did get under his skin. You asked a lot of questions, too many questions. You talked too much about too many things. If he didn’t know you to be an English Literature teacher, he would’ve taken you for a scientist or a philosopher. Your knowledge of the natural world was astounding, along with your takes on the human psyche. It was like a special interest to you, especially the effects of certain fungi on the brain. You were fascinated by the mushroom that controlled creatures, the fungus that moved creatures to its own will. 

Jonathan Crane, for the longest time, thought that you knew about his secret identity, especially after he was let go from Gotham University over shooting a gun off in class. 

“That was you? I thought it had been an overactive student.” You commented when the two of you had met for coffee after the incident. He had just taken up his mantle as The Scarecrow and was on edge, wondering if you KNEW. 

“I’m afraid the students did not appreciate my demonstration and thus I was fired. No one appreciates a good lecture anymore.” Jonathan huffed. 

“No, students are changing. Entitled little brats.” You scoffed. “Did I tell you about the class discussion where I couldn’t dock a student points for being a bigot because of the school’s policy? I wanted to expel this student from my class, but the dean insisted it’d be discriminatory against their beliefs, even though said beliefs were bigoted! Can you believe it? I should just quit school and create a life of crime.” You laughed. 

Jonathan laughed nervously. 

“Yes, a life of crime. And what would you do?” He asked, carefully. 

“Hmm.  .  . maybe I’d perfect an experiment on fungi that can take control of their host, controlling others into doing my bidding. I could release a toxin or cultivate it in a public space so that I could use others to steal money for me. Collecting books is an expensive hobby.” A smile broke out on your face. At that Jonathan could agree. 

And that’s where he found himself now. Using his fear toxin he broke into the Gotham University Library, into the old and interesting section. There were many books there of interest, but he only had eyes for one. It was a story collection from the mid-nineteenth century that centered on gothic fairy tales. Haunting and eerie tales that were beloved to many. You had a soft spot for this collection, so much so that he made sure to wear gloves when handling it. Stealing it was easy. Why keep this book hidden away in a library full of ungrateful people? That was his reasoning. You would love and cherish this book. Display it, keep it out of direct sunlight, find pride in it. 

Jonathan had invited you over to his apartment to share a cup of tea or coffee when he showed you the book. He handed you a pair of soft, cloth gloves and then bestowed the book to you. This was the moment of truth. Would you know who he was? The theft wasn’t in the news. Who would report on one stolen library book? But would you understand how he got it? Would you see his well-kept secret? Would you accept him for who he had become? 

You held the book reverently, easily identifying it as the one from the Gotham University Library. Softly, you whispered, “Jonathan, how did you get this?” 

Jonathan had left the room for a moment to get your cups after the tea had finished steeping. “Oh, don’t you know? I’ve begun a life of crime now and stealing books is my goal.” He said as sarcastically as possible. 

“You’re not lying.” You spoke. Jonathan stared at you, heart skipping a bit. “You have a tell when you’re lying. It’s like you slip, from the years of academia, and you get a twang to your voice. You’re not lying this time. You really did it, didn’t you? I heard rumors at the University about you, ya know? That you had.  .  .”

“That I had what?” He asked quietly, holding the cups of tea. You sat on his sofa with the book held to your chest, eyes open so wide. 

“They call you the Scarecrow now, don’t they?” It was barely above a whisper. 

“That they do, my dear.” Jonathan stared at you intently. 

“And you stole a book for me?” 

“It would appear so.” 

“A favorite of mine. What did you do to get it?” You asked curiously. Jonathan still held the cups, standing in the doorway. 

“I have created a fear toxin and I used it to scare the security guards senseless, letting me sneak in to take the book. It was such a small theft that it wasn’t reported. Can you imagine? That University admitting that someone so easily came in and took what they wanted? They’d never admit to it.” He noticed a look on your face, a look of curiosity. A look of interest. 

“Is it bad that I’m not scared?” 

“Did you know beforehand?” He asked. 

“I guessed.  .  . you know, with how you managed to still live decently after being let go. You seemed to be enraptured in something, but I never could guess what it was. But now.  .  . this is everything. You’re the Scarecrow! The King of Fear!” You laughed loudly, setting the book on the coffee table. Standing up, you walked over to the doorway and took your cup of tea. Jonathan watched your every move. 

“Are you scared?” 

“Should I be?” You asked, breathlessly. 

“Only if you want to be.” You both stood so closely together, taking up space in the doorway. He took a chance. Jonathan reached out a hand and cupped your face, running his thumb over your cheekbone. He leaned in for a chaste kiss, honestly surprised when you didn’t pull away. You pressed your lips to his and then pulled away before he could ask for more. 

“The tea will get cold.” You smiled. 

“That’s true.” He nodded. 

“Would you read to me?” 

“Read to you?” 

“Yes, out of the book. I’d like it if you read one of the stories to me.” You walked over to the sofa again. Jonathan sat with you, knees touching. With gloves on, he picked the book up, flipping it open to a random story. You leaned into his shoulder, listening to the drawl of his words. As he read, his southern accent came out, making the words drip like honey. Jonathan’s eyes scanned the pages, occasionally glancing at you. He never wanted this moment to end. But every story had to have an ending. 

“I almost wish the tale didn’t have to end.” He commented when you finished the gothic retelling of Red Riding Hood. 

“You could always steal me another book and we could keep doing this.” He liked that little smirk that came on your face. “We could have our own personal library. You read me a story. I read you a story. It doesn’t have to end with this.” 

“Oh, my dear, it’s just beginning.” Jonathan smiled, carefully shutting the book.

[myveryownfanfiction]

18+ MINORS AND THOSE WITHOUT AGE IN BIO DNI

tags: @illiana-mystery, @eclecticwildflowers, @onedirectionlovers2014

warnings: swearing, mention of cranes fear gas

Putting the finishing touches on the decorations, I stood back to take a look at my handiwork. There were home made decorations mixed in among the store bought ones. Johnathan and I had gone shopping several times, each time harder than the last to walk out under budget.

“Johnathan!” I called as I started to clean up all the packaging, separating it between what we needed to keep and the garbage can. “Come look! See if I missed anything!”

“just a minute!” Johnathan called back. I sighed as I ventured towards the office in the back of the apartment. “I’m working on something!”

“Whatcha working on?” I asked, leaning in the doorway. Johnathan looked up at me with a smile, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

“a fog machine.” He responded. There was a mischievous glint in his eye.

“a fog machine.” I repeated. Johnathan nodded. I held his gaze for a minute before scrunching up my nose. “Please tell me you aren’t thinking of using what I think you are.” Johnathan chuckled and shrugged. “Johnathan…” I whined.

“(Y/N)…” he tried to explain but I held up a finger.

“it’s one thing to test it on the inmates at arkham. It’s another to use it in the narrows and on Batman. But to use it on trick or treaters. On kids Johnathan!” I exclaimed. Johnathan frowned and looked at the machine in his hands.

“I didn’t think of it that way.” He murmured. “So…” he moved the machine to the other side of his work space and picked up a small decoration I had given him when we first started dating. “The good old fashioned way it is. Death then?” I nodded with a laugh.

“death.” I agreed. “Come see what I’ve done to the rest of the place.” I held my hand out for Johnathan and he took it with a smile. He abandoned his glasses on the desk and let me gently tug him off of the office and down the hall.

“what horrors have you concocted my dear?” He asked as we entered the living room. Wrapping his arms around my waist, Johnathan propped his chin on my shoulder and nodded. “Looks good. Just missing the pumpkins. How many are we getting this year?”

“not sure yet. What do you think we have enough space for?” I asked, turning my head slightly to look at him. Johnathan locked eyes with me and smiled.

“how many do you want?” He chuckled. I smiled brightly at him.

“you’ve learned well Dr. Crane.” I teased with a laugh. Johnathan chuckled as he pulled me tighter against his chest. He kissed my cheek and leaned his head against my temple. “I think four should be enough this year.”

“then four we shall have.” He agreed. “I’ll go get the biggest ones they have next week. I’m sure falcone can spare someone to help me carry them.” I laughed and patted his cheek.

“I’m sure he can. Or maybe Ra’s could.” Johnathan laughed.

“I’d pay good money to see him do that.” I chuckled as Johnathan kissed me deeply.

[scorpiussage]

NSFW Alphabet - Johnathan Crane (Scarecrow) 

- I’m not much of a DC fan so this is entirely based off the Nolan movies and what we see of Cillian Murphy’s Scarecrow 

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Not an aftercare man at all. For real, you’d be lucky if he stayed in bed next to you after he’s done fucking you - he’s busy and got things to do and places to be. 

But, I think that if you caught him at a vulnerable moment (Scarecrow giving him extra grief or him struggling with the Batman) he might indulge in some cuddling but it would be very short lived and he’d expect you to never bring it up again.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Loves someone with a brilliant mind, body doesn’t matter to him at all. He just wants someone who’s crazy matches his crazy. 

He’s literally so vain though, like he will not leave the house unless he looks perfect and put together. 

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He doesn’t really have much of a preference to where he cums, just that he does. Most of the time it’ll be in you but he has been known to like to finish on your face from time to time. 

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Scarecrow is obv his big secret, but I think that if he took the time to pursue a relationship with you, it would be because both him and Scarecrow are attracted to you. So that might be a dirty secret of his, that he likes to let the other guy take control some times so that he can get his quality time in with you too.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Not very experienced, he’s always been a huge dork and also very career driven so he’s never put any time into having sex. That said, he’s incredibly knowledgeable about the human body so even though he’s not very experienced, he knows all the best places to touch you.

F = Favourite Position (idk the names of any sex positions so Im just going try and describe them)

Johnathan is a massive control freak and so his favorite positions are all ones that put him in control of you. You on your knees with your face pressed into the mattress and your hands tied behind your back is a particular favorite of his. 

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He is literally not capable of being goofy and silly. It’s just not who he is. So sex will always be incredibly intense and serious.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Not very intimate nor romantic (though he could be if he wanted to, he just doesn’t want to) 

Don’t get it twisted though, he’s possessive and even though he may not show his affections like other people, you belong to him and he’ll remind you of it regularly. 

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Doesn’t masturbate beyond getting excess energy out. He’s not got the time for that.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He’s got a huge doctor/patient kink to the point he’d convince you to get admitted to Arkham so that he could be your doctor and “give you treatments” 😉 

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

His office at Arkham or whatever seedy warehouse he’s using that week, he’s not picky.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Control and fear are pretty obvious motivators for him. 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Anything church or religion related is a big yikes to him. 

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He will only give you head if it means a new way to dominate and control you into doing something he wants. That’s just sort of his personality. 

He’s personally pretty eh about receiving. It feels good and makes him cum, but he could also get that from fucking you so it’s not a necessity.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Not slow or fast so much as brutal and intense. Getting fucked by Johnathan is absolutely world ending and also too much. You’ll only be able to handle one round at a time from him. 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He’s not one for quickies usually just because he’s very work focused and you absolutely will not tear him away from whatever new thing he’s doing. He has allotted time set aside to fuck you and he will not do it outside of that time.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He loves taking risks, it’s sort of his whole thing because there’s a tie in to fear. You have to be someone who will go along with whatever he wants because if you don’t, he’ll get bored with you very fast.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Average stamina. He could probably do sexathons but he doesn’t have the time for that, his experiments take priority. 

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He doesn’t own toys personally but if you own them, he’ll for sure use them on you regularly. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Nothing would turn him on more than teasing you to the point of tears. He’s an absolute sadist about that and he’s unapologetic about it too. 

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Not loud, actually very quiet but when Scarecrow is in the drivers seat, he does a lot of dirty talk. 

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He’s the kind of man who loves one and only one. So if you start a relationship with him, there’s no ending that relationship, you’re his forever. 

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Long and average width. Cock size doesn’t matter with a guy like this, he’ll make you cum regardless. 

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Pretty low sex drive, he’s not really someone who spends a lot of time thinking about sex. 

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He doesn’t sleep until he’s certain he’s in a safe location. So unless you do it at his place, he’s not one to fuck and then immediately fall asleep. 

[vaporwavebeach-writes]

Kinktober Day 12 (Medical Play)

BTAA Scarecrow x Reader (NSFW)

(1,223 Words)

Summary: you have a debilitating phobia of needles and Dr. Crane has the solution to overcoming those fears

Warnings/Tags: 18+, gender neutral reader, reader has MAJOR trypanophobia (fear of needles), panic attacks, exposure therapy, medical kink (duh), crane feeding off the reader’s fear, crane being unprofessional, doctor/patient dynamic, fingering

Notes: sorry this one’s a little late LMAO but literally? as someone who had SEVERE trypanophobia, this was kinda empowering to write, enjoy the fic!!!

-

There was always a sense of unease whenever you found yourself at the doctors office. Maybe it was the awkward silence of sitting in the waiting room, anticipating what’s to come. Maybe it was the little intrusions that came with a basic physical check-up. Maybe it was unsettling scent of sterilized chemicals, sanitizing the room. Maybe it was those beige colored walls, glaring at you for the duration of your visit. Maybe it was the fact that you were about to be subjected to one of your worst fears. Or maybe, it was the fact that your physician is incredibly attractive.

Yeah, that too.

You find yourself, laying on his exam table, staring up at the ceiling. His voice, playful, as he explains the clinical the proceedings of this visit, reverberates off the walls.

“I’m really glad to see you taking the initiative to face your fears, exposure therapy isn’t for the faint of heart, you know.”

Your heart flutters at his words. As someone who suffered from a fear of needles since childhood, you figured that now, well into your adulthood, it was finally time to overcome that fear.

Doctors appointments for important vaccinations or even just the seasonal flu shot was always enough to spiral you into a panic. Nightmares leading up to it, hyperventilating, and giving yourself panic attacks to the point of nausea or fainting were feelings you had become all too familiar with. Feeling the prying gazes of other people in the waiting room or judgmental nurses always caused your embarrassment to spike at what you thought, was your own childish anxieties.

Seeing Dr. Jonathan Crane changed all that. When you scheduled your first session with him, his office felt comfortable. Adorned with classic horror movie posters and little mementos about his interests gave the impression that you wouldn’t be just some patient to him, but someone who he would genuinely try to help with your issues. When time came to actually talk about your fear, he wasn’t mean, or judgmental, or condescending, but he was understanding. He was someone who took a deep interest in whatever you had to say, as a patient and as a person. When he suggested the idea of exposure therapy, you were hesitant, but he had helped you come to realize that you had to start somewhere, which lead you to the clinic.

“Thanks, doctor,” you smile nervously, “gotta start somewhere, right?”

“Too true,” he says, turning to you as he walks over to the counter. “I appreciate that you put your trust in me to help you with such a… Debilitating, vulnerability.”

You hear the metallic rustling from within the cabinets. You stare back up at the ceiling, yet your curiosity gets the better of you. Glancing back over to him, you spy him preparing the needles, sending a wave of trepidation through your body.

“The syringes will be filled with a simple saline solution, it’s not harmful, but the solution is not what you’re afraid of, is it?” Maybe it’s just your anxiety, but you could swear there’s a hint of eeriness within his voice.

“Hey, uh, Doctor?”

“What is it, sweet pea?” He asks jokingly.

“I um, I just wanna apologize in advance in case I freak out at the needle.” You muster out with as much courage as you can. “Like, I-I might cry actually.” You chuckle nervously. You actually do feel the urge to cry as uneasiness fills the pit in your stomach.

“Aw now,“ There’s a playfulness to his voice. You’ve heard it many times in sessions, but it feels a little unsettling to hear it now. “Don’t psych yourself up too much, remember your breathing techniques.”

You can’t regulate your breathing at a time like this. As he makes his way over to you with a little alcohol wipe, you feel yourself beginning to hyperventilate. You feel the sweat trickling down your forehead as your throat begins to go dry. You feel faint; clammy. That alcohol wipe was the calm before the storm. You were fine when it was swabbed across your skin, but it always signaled what’s to come.

“Dr. Crane, I don’t know if I-”

“The feelings you have right now are completely expected,” he hushes you. “It’s all anticipatory, you fear the dread of it more than the actual stick itself, and I think I have found a sufficient way to combat that,” his explanation is stern, but comforting. He takes his gloved hands in yours, feeling his warmth through the latex. “Do you trust me?”

You’re hesitant. Your eyes threaten to spill tears out of the sheer distress you feel at the moment, yet Crane stares at you confidently, as if he knows you will make the right decision. You let out a shaky sigh, “Yes.”

“Good,” he grins at you. His hand makes its way to cup your cheek, gently thumbing over you. It moves up and around, to the nape of your neck and through your scalp, playing with your hair. You practically melt into his touch, fear beginning to dissipate from within you. And it’s at that moment, he gives it a tug, eliciting a soft moan from your lips. “A good method to combating fear, is to add an equally positive stimulus.” He lets out a low chuckle in response, which you feel go straight to your groin.

“I think I catch your drift.”

“Trust me,” he whirls you around on the table, spreading your legs. You can feel the heat pooling in your sex. “By the time I’m done with you, your phobia of needles will be the last thing on your mind.” He eyes you up, feeling his predatory gaze all around you like you wish his body was.

“I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” you whisper desperately.

“Then let’s not waste any time.”

You two work together to undo your pants. Your sex drips with arousal as Dr. Crane’s hand makes its way past your underwear. Your legs shake as he grazes over a particularly sensitive spot. He adds more pressure stroking you steadily as you all but grind yourself on his hand.

“God, you are such a good patient,” he groans. “Your determination to cure yourself of this fear, by any means necessary, is remarkable.”

You let out a breathy moan at the praise. You feel his fingers enter inside you, curling up and fucking away any fear you had before.

“Dr. Crane,” you gasp. “I think, I-I’m-”

“Getting close?”

“Mhm.” You groan.

You feel yourself quickly reaching your peak, eyes slamming shut. As you feel Crane’s fingers speeding up, there’s a sharp, painful sensation in your arm, making you cry out in a pained whine. With the pain, soon follows your orgasm, which tears through you frantically.

Breathing heavily, you come down from your euphoric high, to find Dr. Crane removing his gloves, smiling over at you proudly.

“Congratulations,” he smirks. “We’ve made excellent progress in overcoming your phobia, I think we’ve made a break through.” Washing his hands in the sink, he takes a seat on the table beside you, that playful tone once again adorning his voice. “However, I think we may need to have a few more sessions, fears aren’t cured overnight you know.”

You giggle, looking at him feeling giddy. You couldn’t wait for your next appointment.

[finniestoncrane]

🍦 with AK! Scarecrow? That would make my heart go doki-doki like an anime protagonist

Cleansing Aftermath

Arkham!Scarecrow x Female!Reader, word count: 600 lmao me TOO!! i want to peel that burlap off and get it washed with the nicest and most sensitive fabric softener while i get him all scrubbed up (i'm brushing his teeth too) also the desire to draw this man in a bath with a rubber pumpkin (or crow, thank you server!) was strong enough that i will be doing that as soon as possible 🎃🧡 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: blood mention, injury mention, mention of sickness, bathing

You dipped your hand, cloth gripped tight, back into the murky brown water, tinged with remnants of grease, slivers of blood, and various bits of grime and dirt. At one point you’d seen him pick a shard of something bright and shining from one of the wounds on his side and flick it into the horrid soup he was stewing in with a half-amused sentiment.

“Everything comes to the surface.”

“Shall I run a magnet over you, instead of a cloth?”

Jonathan had seen his fair share of violence, not just that orchestrated by his own hand. Constant beatings from Gotham’s praised vigilante, an assault by a reptilian monster, poor living conditions, a childhood of abuse. The number of injuries that marred his body was too much to count, and he couldn’t even remember them all anymore. Every so often, a shrapnel of history would dislodge itself from within his skin. This one likely finding it’s way to the surface as a new gash on his arm was opened over older scar tissue.

“How interesting that the edge of his ridiculous weapons would open an old wound and let loose the point of an old one. At the very least, the new models seem less brittle.”

There wasn’t much that Jonathan couldn’t take in his stride, and while normally you might panic at the first sigh of injury, of blood dappled on his long coat, staining the metal of his leg brace as it trickled down from his arm and side to his feet, his calm and collected mannerisms always served to keep you from a panic. But it was often a source of irritation, how flippant he could be about his own safety. As dry as his wit was, it still felt puerile to make light of the situation.

“Jonathan. Please take this seriously.”

He let his fingers skim over the top of the water, through the thing froth of soap bubbles that survived the already lengthy cleansing he had gone through. His eyes looked to you where you knelt beside him, arms resting on the edge of the tub, chin resting on your arms. With what he could muster of a smile, he apologised silently, the intent behind his clouded eyes obvious, maybe not to everyone, but to you at least. With your hand on his shoulder, you rubbed in gentle circles with your fingers until he let out a groan that vibrated through the chest infection that had embedded itself within him a few weeks ago.

“You need medicine.”

You reached to press your hand to his sternum, trying to feel for any signs of a more serious infection, not really knowing what you were looking for beyond rattling wheezes and perhaps an irregular heartbeat. But, sending what you were trying to do, he placed his fingers slowly and softly around your wrist, holding you there, steady, as he chastised you with the kind of gentle care you’d come to know well.

“I just need time to recover. To gather myself. I’ll heal when I have time, physically anyway. And I’ll have time once I’ve begun to heal emotionally. That, unfortunately, requires a great deal of risk.”

There was no point in arguing with him. He knew best, even when you disagreed with him you knew that to be a fact. So instead, you did as you usually did, dedicating yourself to helping him recover, to offer him moments of rest that you hoped amounted to something bigger. Fingers trailing from his shoulder to his chest, you pushed down gently, watching him sink lower into the bath, his muscles relaxing as the lukewarm water covered him up to his chin.

[look-at-the-soul]

A better man

Jonathan Crane x reader

Anon request- hey lovely anon! I’m sorry this took me an eternity to write! But I was panicked to write and not match your expectations as Jonathan is a super complex character and I knew nothing about waltz dancing (but I started to read about it and the story “came to me” by itself…) -if that makes any sense ☺️ anyways, I hope you like this, again sorry for the delay, but hey better late than never right? Please let me know if you read this! 🥰✨

A/N: Dr Crane a bit out of character

Jonathan took a deep breath as the lights went down and the silence filled the room.

“Everything will be alright, darling.” Y/N murmured caressing his face.

And for a moment, he allowed himself to believe her words.

Opening his eyes, he was able to find hers, offering the same comfort she gave him when they first met one day, under ordinary circumstances, he had been dealing with a lot of stress at the Arkham asylum to the point he was about to explode.

The little patience he had, reaching the limit he could tolerate.

But Y/N showed up in his life unexpectedly and even though he was skeptic at first, he ended up warming completely into her, she was adorable and it was impossible to say no to her. The only person who actually made him smile.

That’s how he ended taking waltz classes on Wednesday nights for the last months.

But to Y/N that wasn’t enough, and as their relationship blossomed and he learned not only the main steps of the elegant dance, but the proper terms as well and that’s how he ended up accepting join Y/N in this waltz competition. It was her dream and he was eagerly willing to do anything for her.

Nobody would ever believe how much this woman had changed him to the point of he being standing up in a salon with a huge chandelier, wearing a tuxedo, hair completely combed back. He felt like a penguin.

This was totally unlike anything he would do, but to his own surprise as the salon’s lights illuminated every corner he felt sure of himself.

Bowing down to Y/N Jonathan was lost in her elegant pose, ready to dance waltz with him.

His feet started to move to the beat of the music and they started floating around. His fears and embarrassment long forgotten now, that was one of the things he learned while dancing, in that moment nothing else matters.

Jonathan was transported back in time, to the day he danced with her for the first time, he loved the way his hand felt on her back, the way her perfume was filling his nostrils, her warm palm resting on his shoulder as she let him guide the steps.

Now, back in present time, despite being in a room fool of people, he could only focus on her as they both twirled around, the skirt of her dress hitting his legs as he spun her. Long strides to move from one side to another, swaying from left to right, but he remembered the rules carefully; his feet must touch the floor at all times.

She moved gracefully, with her long neck on display, allowing him to set the pace. The earrings he gifted her -a pair of small pearls surrounded with tiny diamonds- caught the light and sparkled.

They stopped moving and Y/N leaned back one of her legs, throwing her head to look at the judges.

Taking a step back, he felt his foot sliding back, next to his right one and then he moved sideways, Y/N matching his every move.

As the high notes of the music started to subside, Jonathan held Y/N firmly by the waist as she took impulse to jump, his arms were burning as he held her above his head in the air, time stopping, he could feel his heart drumming in his ears. Slowly he helped her down.

The audience erupted in applause and cheering, but he could only Y/N’s arms around his neck, her smile against his skin and her finger intertwined with his.

As they walked backstage he felt so grateful because Y/N not only understood him, she gave him her support in everything and little by little she made him life better, made him want to be a better man. Through the dance practice, every Friday when she cooked that pasta for dinner.

“We did it!” She jumped on him excitedly, wrapping her legs around his waist.

“You were amazing.” He praised with a huge smile.

“That’s because I’ve the best partner, both in life and dance.”

As they were pulled by a sea of people to congratulate them, he realized he could care less about the results of the competition, because he already had everything he could ask for.

Dance, any type involved a huge intimacy, it allowed him to express a lot through the movements, bodies touching, quick glances, trusting your partner to guide and hold you… exactly as it is in life. Giving in completely into the feeling of calmness while dancing.

And he wanted to keep doing it over and over with Y/N.

****

Jonathan master list

A/N: I enjoyed reading and watching of videos of waltz so so much! I’m always up for a challenge and this surely was… if you want me to change you from the ‘everything list’ let me know

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