#not scarecrow content sorry

[finzphoenix]

Trying something new for Patreon: 20-minute videos of whatever WIP I'm currently working on! ^_^

Gosh, I hate advertising my own Patreon account, I'm so sorry for spaming about it! ;w;

[slut4thebroken]

Exposure Therapy pt. 10

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Jonathan Crane × reader

Summary | Jon let’s you go on a trip with him, then can’t control his weird, freaky sex fantasies lmaoo.

Warnings | 18+, sexual content, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, breeding, kissing, consensual sex, attempted sex trafficking?? (but like not really?), fear play (but consensual this time), actually everything’s consensual this time lol, masturbation, voyeurism, bondage, degradation, verbal humiliation, praise.

Words | 4.2k

Notes | Kinky smut ahead! Beware😼 I really played into the “he hates everyone but you” trope in this chapter and I’m so here for it.

Ao3 link | <3

Fic Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Part 9

“I’m going out to meet someone about something, I shouldn’t be gone long.” 

“Oh… okay. Can I come?” He examined you and after a while you couldn’t help but squirm under his gaze as you backtracked. “I- I don’t have to… I just,”

“Fine.” He suddenly said, making your face light up. 

“Really?” 

“Yes. Stop wasting time and get dressed or we’ll be late.”

“Sorry.” You hurried to change into your stolen clothes, looking a little odd next to him in a full suit. He instructed you to bring the wristband he gave you along with the gas mask and then you were leaving, walking along the docks closer to the water now. When he put his mask on, you did the same, not sure what to expect. 

“No talking.” He said quietly when a few guys were in your eyeline. You nodded in response, following him until he stopped in front of the men. 

“Didn’t know Scarecrow had a partner.” A man snickered. 

“Yeah, who’s your pet?” 

“Enough. Do you have what I need or not?” He snapped, voiced distorted by the modulator in the mask. 

“We got it. But I think we might want a different form of payment now.” The man in front smirked, the other men muttering agreements. 

“We had a deal.” 

“Yeah well, our terms changed.” He shrugged, eyeing you with a grin that made your stomach twist. 

“You’ll give me what I want and in exchange, you don’t want money, you want her?” He confirmed, making you stiffen. He wouldn’t… Would he?

“Yep. With a pretty thing like her, we’ll make plenty more than what you’re willing to give.” 

“Fine. We have a deal.” You turned to him with wide eyes, silently asking what the fuck he was doing, but he didn’t even glance at you. The main guy motioned to someone behind him who walked away to grab something. 

“C'mere, sweetheart. I wanna get a good look at you.” He sneered and your heart dropped to your stomach. Was he really going to do this?

“You can have her after I receive what I paid for.” He said sternly and as if on cue, the man returned holding a large briefcase. When the leader gestured, he handed it to the man by your side. He grabbed your arm and walked you closer to the men, making your heart rate and breathing speed up. Once he was in front of them, he pushed you forward and you landed against the leader with a startled grunt. 

“We’re gonna have some fun with you before we start selling you, don’t worry.” He smirked, making your blood run cold. Hands were running over your body as all of the men focused on you. When someone reached for the mask, a cloud of his toxin was suddenly surrounding you, making the men cough as they staggered back. A hand grabbing your arm made you jump and you turned, finding Jon pulling you away from them as they started screaming. 

You waited until you were back inside and he set the briefcase on the desk before saying anything. Starting with a shove, you ripped the gas mask off, letting it fall to the floor, then pushed him again, making him stagger back. 

“You— dick!” When you tried to push him again, his hands circled your wrists in a bruising grip. 

“Stop.” He warned, the modulator making him sound even more intimidating. “You’re mine.” He explained firmly. 

“That’s supposed to automatically make me assume that you’re not going to do what you literally said you would do?” You hissed, voice shaking from anger that was concealing fear. 

“Do you really think so little of me?” He asked, making you falter. He released your wrists then removed his mask. 

“You scared me.” You whispered with a frown. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, never breaking eye contact as you searched for any sign of a lie. “I had to improvise. If it’s any consolation, I’m planning to spend that money on a mattress for you.” He said softly, making your frown relax. 

“I’m sorry I called you a dick.” 

“You get a pass this time because I deserved it.” He chuckled and you couldn’t help but smile. “On the bright side, you seem to be coping with your fears much better now. Did you cry?” 

“No.” You furrowed your brows at his words. 

“How did you feel?” He asked, stepping into your space. 

“Scared.” You whispered. 

“Tell me about it.” He said lowly, eyes darkening with arousal. You swallowed thickly as you processed his request. 

“Tell you what?” 

“How it felt, what you were thinking. Tell me how scared you were.” He rasped and you could feel arousal pooling in your stomach from his tone. 

“I- I was shaking… and nauseous. I thought you- you… I didn’t want you to leave me with them.” You whimpered, giving him a pout that had no visible effect on him. “The last time I was that scared was when you used the toxin on me.” You whispered. He was suddenly pulling you into a kiss and you let out a startled moan as you landed against his body. He walked you back until your thighs hit the desk, then lifted you onto it, never breaking the kiss. Placing your hands in his hair, you pulled, making him groan against your lips. When he pulled back, you let out a low whine, trying to lean forward to chase his lips, but he stopped you by putting a hand on your neck. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He asked, tilting his head slightly to emphasize the question. When you nodded, he tightened his grip on your neck. 

“Yes.” You quickly corrected yourself. He set the mask next to your thigh on the desk, then brought his hand up to brush your hair behind your ear, keeping his hand near your face. Making sure you were watching, he placed his fingers only centimeters above the lever on the wristband he was wearing. You stiffened, swallowing thickly against his hand as you eyed the threat only inches from your face. 

“Are you scared?” He asked quietly, making your eyes snap to his. Despite the very obvious threat, you knew that he wouldn’t do it, especially because he wasn’t wearing a mask. 

“You wouldn’t gas yourself too.” You tried to sound brave and confident, but the tremble in your voice was obvious. His lips curled into a small smirk, making your stomach twist. 

“Smart girl.” He picked up the mask and put it on, then moved his hand back in front of your face. “What about now?” Your gaze moved between his hand and the icy blue eyes through the small holes in the mask. Even though, logically, you knew he wouldn’t because he told you before he couldn’t even if he wanted to… the threat was definitely still there. But instead of the nauseating twist, your stomach was twisting in a different way. A way that made your skin flush and your core ache. 

“Yes.” You whispered. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Your cheeks heated up and you looked away from him, embarrassed. 

“No.” Your voice was barely audible. The low chuckle he released behind the modulator made you shiver, not used to hearing something so ominous. He suddenly stepped back and you almost whined at the loss of his touch. 

“Strip.” He ordered, making your eyes widen. You tentatively slid off the desk onto the floor, then started undressing. Once you got to your underwear, you hesitated, but when he didn’t do or say anything, you slid them down your legs with a blush. “Sit on the desk again.” You obeyed and he stepped between your legs once you were seated, then placed his hands back the way they were, one on your neck, the other in front of your face. 

“Touch yourself.” Your eyes widened as you stared at him in surprise. When he moved his fingers closer to the lever though, you immediately brought your hand to between your legs. Staring through the holes in the mask, you watched as his eyes trailed down your body, focusing on the way you were rubbing your clit. 

“You like this don’t you?” He asked curiously, making your face flush. “Being at my mercy… Feeling humiliated, vulnerable.” He elaborated. “Knowing that what happens to you is under my control. It scares you, but it also excites you.” Letting out a shaky breath, you rubbed your clit faster, already feeling your orgasm growing. “I could use this at any moment and you’d have no choice but to take it.” You eyed his hand for a moment before looking back to his eyes. 

“Jon,” You whispered, voice barely audible. 

“No. Scarecrow.” Your eyes widened slightly, not expecting that request at all. “Say my name again and you’ll be punished. Understand?” You nodded, feeling breathless, but his hand tightened on your throat in a warning. 

“Yes.”

“Yes what?” 

“Yes, Scarecrow.” You whispered, cheeks flushing at the unfamiliar name for him. 

“Good girl.” He muttered, making your breath catch in your throat, still barely used to such praise. 

“Can I come please?”

“You think you deserve to?” You could only stare into his piercing gaze for another moment before you had to look away. 

“I- I don’t know.” You whined. When he suddenly stepped back and let his hands drop to his sides, you let out a heavy breath. 

“Get up.” He ordered as he started removing his tie. You obeyed and waited eagerly on shaky legs. “Turn around.” Once you were facing the desk, he pulled your hands behind your back and restrained your wrists with his tie. 

“Is this okay?” He asked quietly, voice no longer distorted. 

“Please don’t stop.” You whispered. The thought of him stopping was enough to bring tears to your eyes. 

“God you’re such a fucking slut, aren’t you?” His mask was back on now, modulator distorting his voice, making him all the more intimidating. He suddenly fisted your hair and yanked your head back, pointing the wristband at your face as he held you still. “I bet you want me to use this on you.” He snickered and you did your best to shake your head as you whined. 

“What was that?” He used his grip on your hair to push your head down and then back up, as if you were nodding. “‘Yes, scarecrow’? If you insist.”

“N-no,” You whimpered, pressing your body against his to try and escape the gas that could invade your senses at any moment.  

“No? I don’t know… Seems like you want it.” His hand moved from your hair to your neck, squeezing tightly and pulling your head back to rest on his shoulder. “You sure you don’t want just a small taste?” You could barely hear him behind the mask, even with his lips so close to your ear. 

“Please…” Your voice trembled in fear, but you still ached to keep touching yourself. 

“What if I said the only way I’d fuck you is if I got to have my fun? Are you desperate enough to sacrifice your sanity, my love?” You whimpered and squeezed your thighs together, just needing him to fuck you already. 

“Jon…” You whined, pushing your hips back into his, but his hand on your neck tightened significantly and he let out a low growl. 

“What did I say?”

“I- I’m sorry! Scarecrow! I meant Scarecrow— Please, I’m sorry.” You rushed out, worried you had pushed him far enough to follow through on his threat. 

“Poor thing…” He cooed mockingly. “You touch yourself for only a few minutes and already you’re too dumb to follow a simple order.”

“I’m sorry.” You cried, tears welling in your eyes, but from humiliation of the situation and his words, not because you were genuinely upset. 

“What do you think you’d see? You said you’re not scared of me anymore so what would you see, little one?” The hand with the wristband remained by your head, which made you stay planted to his shoulder. The other started dragging down your body, over your sternum, to your stomach, then teasing your thighs. 

“I- I don’t know…” You whined, squirming to try and get his hand where you wanted it. 

“No?” You shook your head with a whimper and his hand snaked back up to your stomach, teasingly rubbing the soft skin. “You don’t think you’d see yourself with my child? After all, a come hungry whore like yourself is bound to get pregnant at one point or another. It’s just a matter of time, isn’t it?” 

“J- …Scarecrow,” You whimpered, writhing against him. “Please.”

“Please what? Find out?” 

“No! Please— please fuck me.” He suddenly removed his hands from your body, then pushed you over the desk. Grabbing your hips, he pressed his covered bulge against your ass, teasingly grinding against you, making you even needier. 

“You want my cock?” 

“Yes,” You gasped out, pushing your hips back against him. He pulled back and you were about to complain, but quickly shut your mouth once you heard the rustling of his clothes as he freed his length. He swiped the head through your folds, making you jump at the sudden pleasure. 

“Beg.” 

“Please, Sc- …Scarecrow.” You whined, embarrassed. When he remained silent, you whined even louder. “Please! Please fuck me!” He relented and you choked on a gasp when he applied more pressure until the fat head of his cock was breaching your hole. He didn’t stop until his hips were flush to your ass, feeling so incredibly deep that you couldn’t tell if it hurt or not. 

“Fuck— oh my god.” You whimpered, clenching your fists behind your back as you struggled to adjust to his size. The low, distorted groan from behind you made you shiver. “Please!” You cried, trying to wiggle your hips under him. He slowly dragged his length out, then pushed back in at the same speed, maintaining that rhythm. 

“Shh, just take it. Be a good little flesh light, close that fuck hole, and just take my cock.” Despite the warning, your mouth remained open, loud moans slipping past your lips as your walls fluttered around him. “That’s a good whore— shit… Making me feel so good, little one.”

“Oh god- please,” You sobbed. He sped up a little, grabbing your hips tightly and holding you still as he rocked into you. “Faster.” You said through a moan and surprisingly, he obeyed. He sped up even more, pulling you back by your hips with each thrust until you were moaning uncontrollably and babbling out senseless pleas. He suddenly leaned over your body, his cock pushing against your cervix almost uncomfortably as he kept thrusting. 

“Can you hear how wet your fucking cunt is?” The distorted voice right next to your ear made you shiver as you let out a quiet whimper. You could hear it. The sound of your wetness was almost deafening, even with your moans and the sound of his hips hitting against your ass. “Such a fucking slut getting off on me threatening you.” As your knees buckled and weakened, you were glad the desk was holding your weight up. 

“You want it, don’t you? You want it so bad, your pussy is practically drooling for it.” He suddenly grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, aiming the wristband on his other hand at your face again. You let out a loud moan and he chuckled quietly. “Fuck- your pussy squeezes me so tight when I do this. How’d I get so lucky, huh? I mean, I have my own personal whore at my disposal. And not only is she desperate for my cock, but she’s desperate for my toxin as well.” You whined and shook your head, the humiliation and pain on your scalp making the tears in your eyes threaten to fall. 

“No..” 

“Yes.” He said simply. “You can deny it all you want, but your body knows what it wants.” 

“Scarecrow,” You sobbed, quickly approaching your orgasm. 

“I know, little one. It’s okay.” He cooed, moving his hand to your neck and lifting your torso off the desk, making you put your weight on your shaky legs. “Are you close?” You nodded rapidly with a loud moan as he kept fucking you, his cock feeling so much deeper in this position. 

“I’m going to count down from ten. If you don’t come, I’m going to use this.” He moved the hand with the wristband to your eyeline to make sure you knew what he was talking about. “Do you understand?” 

“Y-yes.” You whimpered. He sped up his thrusts significantly, making your release a startled moan. 

“Ten.” His hand on your neck tightened, making your head feel light and floaty from that and the pleasure. “Nine. Think you can do it little one?” You nodded with a whimper, already feeling incredibly close now. “Eight.” Through the modulator in the mask, you could hear the way he was starting to breathe heavily, nearing his own orgasm as well. 

“Seven… God- maybe I should just use it anyway. You’d look so pretty coming on my cock as your fears consumed you.” He said quietly, making you let out a choked sob.

“Please.” You cried. 

“Six. Do you want that, pretty girl?” 

“N-no.” You whimpered, but it wasn’t believable when you moaned before you could even finish getting the word out. 

“I think you do… Why else would you be squeezing me so damn tight? Five.” His thrusts turned frenzied as his own orgasm grew even closer. “I can’t wait to feel you milk my cock while you scream and writhe in fear. Four.” Even though you were still mostly sure he wouldn’t actually gas you, the more he spoke, the less confident you felt in your answer. Regardless, it was hard to focus on— hard to care— with his cock pistoning in and out of you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Three. I hope you’re close.” You nodded as much as you could with his hand on your neck. “Yeah, I can tell. I can feel it… Two.” Your breathing grew rapidly, from fear or arousal you weren’t sure. 

“Ready?”

“Please— please, oh god.. please let me come.” You cried, trying to make yourself come, but struggling without his explicit permission. 

“One. Come, baby. Squeeze my fucking cock like your life depends on it, because it does.” You let out a loud sob that turned into a moan when the knot of arousal in your stomach finally snapped. He fucked you through it, hand tightening on your neck as he held you close, fully pressed to his body. “That’s it. Do a good job and make me come.”

“Oh god,” You sobbed walls fluttering around his length, making his hips stutter. “Please- please come. I need it… Need you to fill me up.” You whined as the tears in your eyes finally started to fall. They weren’t from fear, but rather desperation with a hint of overstimulation as you came down from your orgasm. His hand moved from in front of your face to around your stomach, pulling up against his body as he rutted into you eagerly. 

He stilled with a low, distorted groan and you could feel his cock twitching against your walls as he obeyed your request. You panted heavily, doing your best to ignore the new fire growing in your belly as he moaned and whined, trying to bury himself even deeper in your warmth. 

When he finally stilled and his moans died down, he removed his hand from your neck and wrapped it over your chest, still holding you against him. 

“Jon?” You asked quietly, making him startle as if he forgot you were there. He took the mask off, then pushed your hair behind your ear to place a kiss on your neck. 

“Are you okay?” He mumbled against your skin, both of you still panting. 

“Better than okay. But if you let me go, my knees are going to give out and I’m definitely going to fall.” He chuckled quietly as he stayed buried in your neck for only a moment longer before reluctantly pulling back. 

“Let me help you onto the desk, then I’ll carry you to the couch, okay?” You nodded and he maneuvered you to sit on the desk, both of you wincing when he pulled out. He settled between your legs then reached around behind you to undo his tie. “I wasn't too rough?” He discarded the fabric on the desk then lightly grabbed your wrists to pull them in front of you and massage them gently. 

“I loved it, Jon. Honestly. It was perfect.” He didn’t respond and instead just wrapped your legs around his hips to lift you and carry you over to the couch. He gently laid you down then took off his shirt and pants, laying them neatly over the back of the couch. When he grimaced as he started tucking his softening cock, still wet from your arousal, back in his underwear, you stopped him. You moved forward enough to wrap your lips around it, moaning at your combined tastes. 

“What— oh fuck… What are you doing?” He asked, hissing as you licked his sensitive cock. After a few more licks, you pulled back, giving him a saccharine smile. 

“There. All clean.” You said, tucking his semi back in his underwear. 

“Tease.” He muttered with a small smile, laying down and pulling you into him. He was quiet for a while as he stroked your hair and let you trail your fingers over his torso, but eventually he broke the silence. “Are you sure it was okay? I didn’t mean to do all of that. I- I shouldn’t… have done all of that. Not when you were on the verge of tears after what happened.” Honestly, you had forgotten about what happened until he mentioned it. You leaned up so he could look into your eyes as you spoke. 

“I loved it, Jon. We’ve never.. done anything like that,” You meant the consensual part of consensual non consent, “and I really really liked it. It was fucking hot.” He didn’t react to your confession as he studied you carefully, searching for the hidden truth behind your words. “And honestly, you made me a little curious about how your toxin would affect someone who’s that horny. Almost enough to make me want to try it.” 

“Are you mad?” He asked in disbelief, making your cheeks flush in embarrassment. 

“I- I just… It would be interesting to study, don’t you think?” You said sheepishly, feeling more foolish the longer he looked at you like you truly belong in Arkham. “Sorry… Forget I said anything.” You laid back down, feeling incredibly embarrassed. 

“I was only referring to you wanting to try it yourself.” He explained. “I didn’t mean to offend you.” 

“It was stupid anyway. I’ll leave the sciencey things to you from now on.” You tried to lighten the mood, but your tone didn’t convey the lightheartedness you meant for it to. 

“Would you like to be involved in the.. sciencey things?” You were only mostly sure he wasn’t making fun of you. “You can’t help with the chemistry behind it obviously, but if you want to be involved in the rest, I wouldn’t mind.” 

“I- I don’t know… I didn’t handle myself very well tonight. It’s probably not a good idea.” You muttered despondently. 

“Can I ask you something?” You nodded in response. “Was that the first time you’ve ever attended an illegal deal as a fugitive?” 

“…Yes?” Obviously it was. 

“That is my point. You’ve never done anything like that before, of course you didn’t handle it very well.”  

“Oh. Yeah I guess that’s true.” You trailed off into silence as your thoughts consumed you. Should you? It sounds… not necessarily fun, but like it could be something you wouldn’t exactly hate. You’d get to spend more time with him too. 

“Think about it for a while.” He said, dragging you out of your thoughts. 

“Okay.” You sighed. Then, “Jon?” He hummed, telling you to continue. “Why did you take off your clothes when you were already dressed?” You asked, continuing trailing your fingers over his bare chest. You didn’t mind it— not even a little bit. You were just curious. 

“I assumed you’d prefer it.” He said simply, minding his tone. 

“Why do you think that?” You asked, then, “Not that you’re wrong— I’m just wondering.” He let out a quiet sigh and you laid your palm flat against his chest to feel his heart that was beating only slightly faster than normal. 

“Because I prefer it.” His heart pounded faster and harder, but so did yours. “It’s different like this than being dressed.” Jealously, you wondered who else he’s laid like this with. Surely with any previous girlfriends, maybe even his mom. But at the same time, you’re not sure if you believe that. The way he expresses physical touch is almost awkward, unpracticed, as if he doesn’t have any previous experience laying with anyone but you. While the thought made your stomach flutter, it also made your chest ache with sympathy. “Falling asleep on me?” He suddenly asked. 

“No- sorry. Just thinking.” You said quietly, picking up the motions of your fingers against his chest again. You couldn’t believe that Jonathan Crane— the Scarecrow— was such a softy. But not just a softy in general- only for you. The thought was enough to make you almost nauseous with butterflies. 

Part 11

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[radioactive-earthshine]

This isn’t my original idea and I forgot who came up with this concept... and don't take this seriously....

But I just think it's on brand for Barry to be known as "the Flash who licks" because he just can analyze certain chemicals by "taste" like that one robot in DBH.

He does this mainly because he 1.) Can 2.) His hypermetabolism makes it so almost nothing can actually hurt him beyond some mild discomfort and 3.) He's faster than their lab equipment.

So he will be along for an investigation and will just, snag a taste and be "Ah Mark, been in Gotham recently because this is Joker Snow!" And whatever League member is with him is just in varying degrees of horror at the fact that their very respected speedster just willingly dipped his finger in an unknown substance and popped it in his mouth as if he was testing the salt content for stew.

They all get used to this behavior but every now and again one of them is just "we'll need to analyze this" but Barry snatches it out of their hands for a analytic nibble "IM FASTER THAN THE LAB!" and before anyone can stop him he has his fingers in his mouth.

Eventually (sadly) when he dies and there's Wally as The Flash everyone has to adjust that they don't have their instant compound breaking lab machine but it doesn't stop a few from asking Wally every now and then out of habit to "give it a lick" because they don't have time.

Wally is horrified.

Under no circumstances is he willing to participate in Barry’s licking unknown substances and even when Barry was alive he couldn't help but gag a little. Eating a hotdog off the ground was one thing but unknown drugs just made his skin crawl.

Years later things change etc and then to his horror and disappointment Bart while helping him on a case just dips his fingers in unknown white powder and gives them a taste instead of taking it to be analyzed and he nods "Yeah, that's Gotham snow right there with a strain of scarecrow dust."

All of the other speedsters judge the Allens because of this.

i am pretty sure this happened in one of the comics but cannot recall where i am sorry

[caesariawritesstuff]

for the follower event ! prompt: discreet sexual tension 4 and/or 9 with detective reader and scarecrow (or eddie if you’d like). i was so excited to see you update cat & mouse, it’s definitely one of my favorite fics ever. keep it up and congrats!! <3

Learning to Share

Summary: Edward and Jonathan have come to an arrangement...one that involves sharing you.

Content Warning: P in V sex, MFM threesome, sexual punishment, begging, jealousy, masturbation, fingering, spanking, discussions about fear. Slight continuation of Damaged Goods.

Word Count: 15.7k

A/N: @a1atheias also requested the “i want you” “then take me” prompt with reader and scarecrow ☺️. This fic got so out of hand and I'm so sorry it's so long!!!! I had an idea and RAN with it. I really hope you enjoy and hope this doesn't suck lmao. Also special thanks to @jkcreation for helping me a bit to figure out how I wanted this to go. Fic is not canon to the official Cat&Mouse!Verse.

Being involved in law enforcement in Gotham ends in several days: death, burn out, turning to drugs and alcohol, being involved in some twisted experiment, or quitting the force entirely seemed to be the usual ways out – so when a member of the GCPD officially made it to retirement after a long, lustrous career – it was something of a celebration.

With a heavy sigh, you looked up at the Cyrus Pinkney Institute for National History and frowned, disdain clear your eyes. Bright lights surrounded the stone building, bathing it in a yellow glow. All around you, Gothamites came and went, laughing and chatting, dates on their arms. Right about now, you’d much rather be in the bubble bath, face mask on and a good book in hand, but alas, being invited to the retirement party of Sergeant Groszek felt a bit like a summons. There would be quite a large number of officers and detectives there, and you did not want to give off the wrong impression and come off as rude – so that was how you found yourself now, wearing an emerald green dress that reached just shy of your fingertips, hugging your curves in all the right places; the balloon sleeves were tight around the wrist and airy around your arms, hanging off your shoulders, revealing your smooth skin. Across the neckline, it dipped low to reveal a tasteful amount of cleavage – one appropriate for an outing like this. Your gaze slid to the left, where Edward tightly had one arm wrapped around your waist, wearing an identical, green-colored suit that complimented your own dress well. He looked quite handsome in his green suit, the material sleek, and his grip tightened around your waist, fingers digging in. You had assured Edward he didn’t have to come with you to this little event, but he insisted. Quite a bit more than usual, but you shrugged away the thought.

Sighing, you looked at him and said, “We don’t have to stay long. Just enough for me to mingle, drop off this card, and then we can get out of here.”

Edward quirked a brow at you, a slow smirk creeping along the edge of his lips. “Don’t worry, detective, I’m sure I can keep myself occupied while you mingle with these simpletons.”

You smirked back, shaking your head, but walked in tandem with him up the stony steps and into the museum, a spring air gusting across your exposed skin. There were signs posted about with arrows leading you towards the private room where the retirement party was being held, and you and Edward followed them with ease, passing by a myriad of exhibits within glass cases. But as you came to the doorway, you sucked in a breath, silently prepping yourself for the onslaught of small talk you were sure you’d be dragged into. This really was the last place you wanted to be. Narrowing your eyes, you looked around at all of the party goers, already chatting up a storm and congratulating Sergeant Groszek on his achievements over his long career. Along the back wall was a display of food catered in: meat and cheese and fruit platters, chips, small finger foods and sandwiches, and a large custom cake. But your eyes instead caught on the bubbly wine being laid out by a caterer – and a sigh of relief escaped your lips. Well, at least there was something you could look forward to here.

You wandered over, slipping out of Edward’s grasp, and snatched up a glass of wine, bringing it to your lips and sipping slowly. When you pulled the glass away, a smudge of bright lipstick stained the rim. Everyone around you was already engaged in hearty conversation, dressed in suits and ties, women in gorgeous dresses. You glanced down at your own, a small smile curving at the edge of your mouth; Edward had handpicked it just for you, just for this occasion. He’d chosen it with quite great care, you’d noticed, and that simple fact made your heart flutter thunderously in your chest, a warmth pool deep in your stomach. Your thoughts were already straying to what it would be like for him to peel it off you when you got home.

“Give me a moment, will you?” Edward asked, his breath at your ear, tickling your skin. You nodded, watching him slip away, somewhere down the hall where the bathrooms were located.

You turned away, gripping the stem of your glass tightly, and wandered over to one of the shadowy corners away from prying eyes. Ever since you started dating Edward, fitting in with your coworkers had become more difficult. Not like you’d ever fully fit in with them in the first place. Frowning, you took an even deeper sip, draining almost half the glass in the process.

“Careful, detective,” a deep, gravelly voice said from beside you, getting your attention. “This is a party, not a brewhouse, correct?”

You lowered your glass just in time to see Jonathan Crane walk up beside you. Your mouth fell open slightly in surprise; you had not expected to find him here, out and about and surrounded by actual people and not vials of chemicals, especially after the…little incident down in the forensics lab at the GCPD a few weeks ago. An incident that had not only left you slightly shaken, irritated, and annoyed – but also turned on. More than you cared to admit. But ever since that moment, you hadn’t been blind to the way Crane watched you with a slow intention, a careful gaze whenever he did manage to come up from the lab. He only ever exchanged a few words for you, but you could feel the tension between you two, crackling like lightning just under the surface. You were not entirely sure what it was about him that drew you to him, but something did, something you were so desperately trying to fight down and not make known.

You studied him closely, taking in his brown suit and tan colored tie, but your eyes lingered for a little too long on his reconstructed face, and the delicate lines etched into his skin, remnants of multiple surgeries he’d been through. But your gaze met his for a slight moment, and you turned away, taking another sip, as if to prove a point.

“Aren’t parties to be enjoyed, Dr. Crane?” you asked, keeping your voice level.

“Parties such as this bore me,” he said.

You smirked, looking down for just a moment. “Yeah, I don’t exactly enjoy parties like this either,” you mumbled. But when you looked up, you scanned the sea of faces for Edward, but found no sign of him. Where is he when I need him? you wondered.

“Why is that?” he asked after a beat.

You scoffed under your breath, once more taking another sip of your drink. “I guess you could say they bore me, too,” you finally answered. At least coming here with Edward was one thing – if only he would turn back up again. Your gaze searched for him once more, but when you saw no sign of him, your heart sunk, a strange aching in your stomach.

“Something bothering you, detective?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” you said, quickly, not wanting to show him an ounce of your discomfort. You certainly didn’t want a man like him getting under your skin. Again.

“Your body language betrays you,” he said. “Are you afraid of something?”

“Yeah,” you scoffed. “Afraid my boyfriend is getting himself into trouble. You know how Edward is.”

“I walked past him moments ago,” Crane said. “He’s involved in quite the conversation with the Commissioner and the Mayor. Perhaps it will be a while. Why don’t you sit and enjoy yourself for the time being?”

You hesitated, your grip on your wine stem tightening, but you studied him carefully, before your gaze strayed back to the other side of the room. Well…you supposed he was right. Standing here rocking back and forth on your heels wasn’t going to do you any good. It would only serve to make you grow more agitated. Taking another sip of your wine, you sighed, but walked past Crane, searching for an empty seat – and you spotted a small table off to the right, hidden away in a shadowy corner. You quickly sat down and crossed one leg over the other, leaning back in your seat. But to your surprise, Crane followed you and sat at the seat opposite of you. You frowned, your heart leaping into your throat. You immediately looked away, even though you felt his eyes burning holes in your skin.

“Can I help you, Dr. Crane?” you asked after a long moment of silence.

“I’d like to continue our discussion from a few weeks ago,” he said. “I believe it was left…quite unfinished.”

“Ah,” you said, twirling your glass between your fingertips. “Another therapy session.” You leaned back, meeting his gaze, not wanting to back down from his questions. Not this time – you would not give him the satisfaction.

“All right,” you said. “Ask me whatever you want. I’m an open book.”

A low rumble emanated from deep within his throat. “Be careful what you wish for, detective. You seem to have forgotten who you’re talking to.”

You smirked. “Try me,” you said. You had been through enough as is over the last few months – some big scary words from Jonathan Crane couldn’t possibly be any harm, now could they? Especially when you already knew his own game, his own obsession with fear – you simply had to keep from falling into his trap, and everything would be fine. If you could handle Edward, then surely you could handle Crane.

“Very well,” he said. “Does it frighten you? Belonging to a man like Edward?”

“No,” you answered, even though that was a bold-faced lie. Being with Edward did frighten you, but you could not allow Crane to know that.

He raised one brow, an impassive look on his face. “Really? Even after all he’s put you through? Even after every single way he’s made you suffer?”

You paused, letting his words sink in – because you couldn’t deny that you had been through a lot with Edward. A lot. And as much as you didn’t want to admit it, there was still that tiny bundle of fear knotted deep in your belly, threatening to rise to the surface. Frowning, you sipped your drink slowly, not breaking eye contact with Crane. His gaze remained just as fixated on you, not giving an ounce of his attention anywhere else.

You lowered your drink back to your lap and said, “Surely it must not bother you to watch people suffer. I’m sure you get off on that sort of thing.”

His head cocked slightly to the side. “Rather crude choice of words, detective.”

“Well, am I wrong? I mean…you put people in horrible, fear-toxin induced experiments for what? For fun? You must find some kind of pleasure in that,” you said.

“I find fear fascinating. It controls every aspect of your life. Every thought, every move you make, every decision,” he said. “You came to this party because you feared what your coworkers would think if you did not show up. You came dressed like…that because you feared making the wrong impression. You drink because you’re afraid if you don’t loosen up, you will not be able to enjoy yourself. Do I need to go on?”

You shifted slightly in your seat, holding back the frustrated scream threatening to tear from your throat, biting down on your tongue. You weren’t sure what, exactly, it was that allowed him to so easily pick you apart and claw your fears from in the inside out – but you knew that every single damn word out of his mouth was true.

But you would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

Instead, you set your drink on the table and leaned forward slightly, resting your chin between two fingers. “And what if I said you were wrong? That I’m not afraid?”

“Then I would call you a liar,” he replied.

“And what are you afraid of, Dr. Crane?” you asked, a bite in your voice now.

“I fear nothing,” he said. “I have mastered my fears long ago. You, however, wear them on your sleeve for the whole world to see.”

You were quiet for a moment, considering his words. You had not realized just how much, perhaps, you did show off your emotions. Leaning back a little further in your seat, you studied him, carefully choosing your next words, refusing to let him get under your skin. You leaned forward a little more, not breaking eye contact.

“Let me ask you this, then,” you said. “Why are you so interested in my fears? There are plenty of other people at this party you could be bothering. So why me?”

“Curiosity,” he answered. “Fear is my specialty. My life’s work. I have spent years studying what makes people afraid, what their darkest fears contain. And you…you exude fear. It’s practically radiating off of you, like a flame in the darkness.”

You held your tongue, trying so very hard to give him an ounce of what you were feeling right now – that his words were cutting deep into you, making a bubbling hot anger burrow under your skin. Instead, you took another sip of your drink, draining the glass.

You met his eyes again. “And what do you think my fears are, Dr. Crane?”

“You’re afraid of being vulnerable,” he answered. “Of being exposed. Of losing control of the carefully crafted image you have built for yourself.” He paused, his head cocking slightly to the side. “And most of all, detective, I think you’re afraid of me.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, at that one notion – and the awful, horrible truth was that he was right. Edward had done many terrible things, but he’d never bathed Gotham completely in a cloud of fear toxin or driven people to madness, or been the man to unmask Batman and cause so much death and destruction like Crane had. Crane was…different.

And he terrified you.

“Did I strike a nerve?” he asked when you said nothing, his eyes slowly scanning every inch of your face. “Your silence speaks volumes. You present yourself to the world as though you are unbothered, but deep down, you fear how people perceive you. And most of all, you’re afraid of what I’m capable of. You’re afraid of what I might do to you?”

“And what might you to do to me, Dr. Crane?” you asked, your voice low. And in that moment – there was nothing and nobody else in the room. It was just you and him, alone, the air sucked from your lungs, a strange bundle of warmth melding together with the fear in your stomach, shooting all the way down to your clit. The sounds of the party drifted into nothing but faded whispers, long forgotten.

“There are many things I could do to you, detective,” he said, his eyes never once breaking from yours, his voice low. “Things that would have you trembling in fear, quaking underneath the effects of my toxin, begging for mercy. Would you like me to tell you some of the things I could do to you?”

“Very well,” you said – because you refused to budge. You refused to show weakness, especially to someone like him. He could try all he wanted, but he would not frighten you, make you run screaming like a child in the night.

“Seeing is much more effective than hearing, now isn’t it?” he asked.

You sucked in a sharp breath, your eyes finally pulling away to glance down at his hand – as if steadying yourself for the moment he had a vial of his toxin at the ready – but his hands were completely empty. Your gaze shifted back to him again, and underneath the table, your legs began to tremble out of your control. Fear was a cold knot in your stomach, turning your blood to ice, causing a clamminess to crawl across your skin.

“You’re trembling,” he noted, his gaze lowering slightly. “Is it fear, or something else?”

“I’m just cold,” you said quickly, attempting to brush him off.

“Is that so?” he asked, one of his brows raised in clear disregard for what you said. “Your body is showing signs of clear distress. Dilated pupils. Flushed skin. Or is it not distress you’re feeling, detective, but something…else?”

Shit. How was he so capable of reading you so easily? You narrowed your eyes, anger rushing hot through every limb, spreading like wildfire through your veins – but beyond that, there was a spark of something rippling just under the surface, something dark and wicked stirring to life in your heart, reawakening your darkest fantasies.

“Something akin to arousal?” he continued.

You sucked in a sharp breath, swallowing the lump in your throat. “That’s a ridiculous insinuation,” you murmured, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue.

“Fear and arousal often go hand in hand,” he said, his voice low, smooth.

“Or, perhaps, you’re completely misreading my physiological responses,” you said.

“Ah, yes,” he said, almost with a bored sigh. “And what, pray tell, do you think is causing this…physiological response of yours?”

“Adrenaline,” you answered, quickly. “It makes your heart beat faster. Makes you shake, makes your pupils dilate. That sort of thing.”

“But that’s not what this is, is it, detective?” he asked, raising his brows. “You’re not in any danger. You’re not preparing to flee. No, this is something much more…intimate.”

There was something in the way the word intimate rolled off his tongue, so full of dark possession, that your insides squirmed, that excitement rushed through your veins, molding together with a hot anger burning brightly inside of you.

“I doubt you’re one to talk about the specifics of intimacy, Crane,” you said, finally.

The corner of his mouth quirked upward, burning that flame even brighter inside of you, causing it to stir to life. The way he was looking at you – studying you – as if you were a lab rat, made your skin crawl. But it wasn’t just the way his cold, calculating gaze studied you, it was the way his words dug into your skin, picking you apart piece by never-ending piece. And here you were, finding yourself sucked into his words, into his every display of intelligent superiority, in a way that was not boastful or full of ego – the complete opposite of Edward.

Edward. Shit. Where even was he? You suddenly backed away, looking around the room once more, searching for him – but still, you saw no sign of him. No green suit stood out amongst the sea of black and blues and browns. And instead of going off to find him, you were sitting here in your own little bubble with Jonathan Crane, feeling a pulsing in your clit, a dampening between your thighs – because he was right. So fucking right.

You were completely fucking aroused.

And you were done with this conversation.

Scowling, you quickly stood up. “Thank you for this enlightening conversation, Dr. Crane. But I’m going to find my boyfriend now,” you said. Turning on your heels, you stormed across the room and searched for any sign of Edward, but there was still none.

Groaning under your breath, you made your way back over to the drink table and snatched up another glass of wine, sipping slowly, trying to clear your mind and body of all thoughts of Jonathan Crane. Bastard, you thought. How dare he put you in such a compromising position, make you feel so vulnerable, as if you were on display for the world to see? You took another sip of your drink, relishing in the taste, when you suddenly felt a presence behind you – a different one, an unfamiliar one, and you glanced over your shoulder to find Crane standing behind you, just inches away. Nerves trickled up your spine and you shuddered, that delicious heat once more pooling in your belly at his proximity, at the smell of his cologne, at his cruel gaze, which was once more fixated on you.

Suddenly, you felt his hands on your hips: a soft, featherlight touch, but enough to make the breath catch in your throat, a small gasp escape your lips – especially when you felt him brush against your backside.

His lips were suddenly at your ear, “Come with me.”

He glanced over his shoulder at you, and for the first time, you saw the very delicate hint of a smile curved at the edge of his lips. Barely there, but noticeable enough – and there was something in his gaze that made warmth pool in your belly, made your heart thump so quickly you could hardly stand it.

Follow me, his cruel gaze said. But it was not a suggestion. It was a command.

Hesitantly, you set your drink back down, searching the crowd once more for Edward, but you could not find him. You were growing angrier by the second, a hot prickling underneath your skin like you were being stabbed by a hundred knives. Following Crane was a stupid idea, but you needed to put an end to this…whatever this strange attraction was, and you did not want to make a scene here, in front of all of these people. They already thought badly enough of you as is.

Jonathan slipped through the crowd, disappearing out of your view, but you weaved through the sea of people to follow him, coming to one of the quiet halls of the museum. He was already ahead of you, leading the way, and you scowled, stomping after him, fire burning in your veins, turning your blood to molten liquid. He wandered down one corridor, disappearing around one corner, and you quickened your steps – but just as you came around, his hand was suddenly on your wrist, the other at your throat, pushing you gently against the wall. You gasped, a wave of fear washing over you as he pressed you against the glass of an exhibit.

“Ssh,” he said quietly, deep in his voice. “You don’t want the others to hear us, now do you?” His cold, blue eyes studied your face with a strange intensity.

“What game are you playing at, Crane?” you hissed. “If Edward finds out about this—”

“Edward already knows about this,” he said, cutting you off.

You blinked, surprised, taken aback by his words. You sucked in a slow, steadied breath, trying desperately to control your breathing, your heartrate, your fear. “What?”

“I have asked for his permission,” he said lowly, his breath tickling at your skin.

“To do what?” you whispered, terror clawing up your throat.

“To share you,” he answered without hesitation.

If this was any other man, you might have laughed. Might have believed this was some sort of sick joke – but this was no ordinary man. It was Jonathan Crane, the Scarecrow, and he was not a joking man. Every inch of his expression was passive. Emotionless. Serious.

He was utterly, utterly serious.

“Edward would never share me,” you whispered, feeling hot defiance rise in your belly.

“Perhaps not with any of the other denizens of Gotham,” he said. “But with me…I’m a different matter entirely.”

You couldn’t help it – your jaw dropped open as confusion and terror and all clawed at you at once, digging into your insides, causing that horrible warmth to pool in your stomach, to travel its way down to your aching clit. Being pinned against the wall like this – trapped – it sent you spiraling, in that way that flared to life your darkest desires, fanning the flames of pleasure and excitement and wanton need.

“You don’t believe me?” Jonathan said after a moment. “Perhaps you should ask Edward yourself.” His fingers finally loosened from around your neck, the digits sliding off delicately, taking his time as he let you go. He took one step back and gestured to a private, out of the way office, far from the festivities taking place.

You hesitated, curling your hands into fists, digging your nails into your palms. You had every reason to smack him right then and there – but you would not allow him to see your fear, to see how frightened you truly were. If this was true…you wanted to hear it straight from Edward’s own mouth. Turning on your heels, you stormed into the office – and sure enough, you found Edward sitting in the chair, leaning back, one leg crossed over the other in a lazy-like position – the very epitome of a man with too big of an ego. And the boyfriend you kind of wanted to knock over the head right about now.

You narrowed your eyes and crossed your arms over your chest. “Edward,” you said, a bite in your voice. “Is what he says true?”

A hazy look filled his eyes, and he smirked. “Yes, detective. Crane is telling the truth. We have…come to an arrangement.”

“What kind of arrangement?” you asked carefully. As the words slipped from your mouth, you glanced back to find that Jonathan had shut and locked the door behind him. Another bolt of fear and excitement rushed through you as a thousand questions rang through your mind. This couldn’t possibly be going where you thought it was going, could it?

“One that involves you, my dear,” Edward replied. “You see, Crane here has taken quite an interest in you. He finds you…how should I put it, fascinating? You know Crane, always needing to study everything around him.” He waved his hand, scoffing under his breath.

“I’m not something to be studied,” you said, angrily.

“Come now, detective,” Jonathan said, stepping forward until he was standing side-by-side with you, his arms crossed behind his back. His gaze roved carefully over you, inch by inch, making your skin crawl with a delicious heat.

“Edward is right. I find you quite fascinating,” he continued, taking a step closer to you. One of his hands snaked out, grasping your chin between two fingers. “There’s something about you that has Edward so trapped under your spell. You have a power over him, a power I can’t explain. And I need to know why. I need to understand it…to taste it. To taste you.”

You shuddered against his touch, the urge to step back all consuming, but when your gaze slid to Edward – it was as if he pinned you there completely, not daring you to budge an inch. As if he wanted you there, in Crane’s grasp, in this very moment, at their mercy. Jonathan’s grip tightened on your chin, forcing you to look back at him.

“You’re not something to be studied, detective,” Crane said. “You’re something to be enjoyed. And Edward here has finally learned to share.”

His words were like lightning through you, sparking to life a powerful heat in your belly, an aching, a desperate need to be consumed. But no words would come out of your mouth, and you stood there in silent horror and awe, completely unable to process what was happening in this moment. You could not believe their boldness – to think how easily they lured you away to have this discussion, to be used as if you were some kind of plaything.

Your gaze flicked to Edward again. You should be enraged. Insulted. But instead, you’re standing here, your mind completely blank of what to do or even say – the only coherent thought you can even come up with is the very real realization that your clit is throbbing, aching, at the very thought of being taken by these two men – these two very dangerous men – and used in whatever way they desire. The very idea that they both were fascinated with you left a fire burning in your belly, stirring awake those dark desires in your heart.

“Is this true, Edward?” you finally managed to ask.

He nodded, slowly. “Admittedly, I would prefer not to share you, but…” He paused, as if choosing his next words carefully. “Crane can be quite persuasive, and I find myself curious to see what the Master of Fear is capable of doing to you. Can he touch you the way I do? Make you cum the way I do? Make you scream his name the way I make you scream mine?”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you shivered at his words – because you can’t help but he just as curious, too. Your gaze strayed back to Crane once more, finding him continuing to study you with a close eye, a curious gaze, as if wondering the same thing Edward was.

You shook your head, scoffing under your breath. “And how long have you been having this discussion behind my back?”

“Long enough,” Crane answered. His grip never lessened on your throat.

Long enough. His words echoed on a loop in your mind. You did not appreciate being spoken about behind your back – and as outraged as you should have been, you could not help but feel just a bit drawn to this situation entirely, to the possibilities that could arise from such an…arrangement. But you were supposed to be with Edward. He was your boyfriend. Something about doing this did not feel right; it felt like a betrayal, in a way. Your gaze flickered back to him, studying his face, but you had come to know Edward well enough that he was completely and utterly serious.

“What if I say no?” you asked.

“If you were going to say no, you would have walked out of this room already, detective,” Crane said. “You would not have followed me into a dark, secluded hallway. You would not have followed me into this room. You would not be here now, allowing me to touch you.” As if to prove his point, his fingers slid down your throat in a smooth motion, once more grasping the question mark pendant draped around your neck. He stroked it with his thumb, but once he let it go, he reached out with two fingers, placing them onto your pulse point.

“Racing heart,” he murmured. “You’re not afraid of us, are you, detective?”

“No,” you said, perhaps a little too quickly. Your fears about being around Edward had faded away into whispers long ago. But…

“Or,” Jonathan continued. “Are you afraid of me?”

The breath caught in your throat, your pulse quickening. Because, the truth was right there, staring you right in the face: you were afraid of Jonathan Crane. He terrified you, caused horror to race through you like lightning, to bundle up in a cold knot in your stomach. Finally, you took a step back, needing a moment to distance yourself. You crossed your arms over yourself, shaking your head as another low scoff escaped your mouth. This was an absurd proposition. Asinine. What they were asking…what Edward was asking…

You spun around on your heels, walking away from Jonathan and over to the desk, wearing Edward remained, still watching you carefully. You opened your mouth to say something – anything – any kind of insult or rage-filled words. But nothing came out. Because as angry as you were, you still felt it: the strange, magnetic pull to both of these dangerous men. And as afraid as you were, your own curiosity could not be ignored.

“What are you afraid of, detective?” Jonathan asked, his cool voice filling the quiet room. “Being shunned? Made to feel like our plaything? Losing your precious paramour in the process as another man claims you for himself?”

“Another man,” you said silently, glancing over your shoulder. “Meaning you.”

Jonathan only answered with a sly smile curving at the edge of his lips.

“I know this is quite a lot to ask of you so suddenly,” Edward said, his voice gentle. “But I assure you, detective, nothing will change between us.”

So suddenly, you wanted to say, but held your tongue – as a slow realization washed over you. Over the last few weeks, your sexual tension around Jonathan had been growing more than you realized – perhaps because they’d been planning this moment for some time. The looks Jonathan had given you over the last few weeks, the words he’d spoken – it had all been a part of their plan, and you’d been blind to see it. You glared down at Edward, anger rushing hot through your veins like a wildfire.

Footsteps behind you got your attention, and before you could react, Jonathan was suddenly behind you. You felt his breath on your neck, before one of his hand snaked around your shoulder, once more grabbing at your chin, forcing you to look into his eyes. Another bolt of worry shot through every limb – but what was worse was the heat that traveled all the way down to your groin, aching, dampening arousal between your thighs.

“I can see it in your eyes, detective,” Jonathan said. “You want this as much as we do. You need this. To be wanted. Needed. Craved.” His breath tickled at your skin, each word out of his mouth making chills run up and down your spine.

Because the goddamn truth was that he was right.

All your life, you’d dreamed of being desired, wanted, needed. Feared being unloved, used, cast aside as nothing. And now, to have two dangerous men wanting you, so much that they were willing to share you…it caused a ripple of delicious heat to pool in your core. It stirred to life all of this wicked desires in your heart, driving you to the brink of madness. And the worst part was that Jonathan Crane had you completely and utterly figured out. It was like he could see straight down into your soul, finding your fears with just one look, and whisper them in your ear, revealing them to you in all their frightening glory.

Angrily, you scowled, yanking your chin from his grasp once more, crossing your arms over yourself. As much as they wanted you to play this game with them, you would not give in so easily – not without understanding the terms of this…arrangement. Slowly, you turned back around, glancing at both of them; they stood there with hungry looks in their eyes, as if waiting for your next move, the next words out of your mouth. You wandered back over to the desk and hoisted yourself onto it, crossing one leg over the other, placing your hands behind you to keep yourself propped up. Jonathan regarded you with a raised brow, as if interested in your next move. Good, you thought. If they could play this game, you could play it, too.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Edward sit up a little straighter from his spot at the desk. You glanced at him, then back at Jonathan; both their eyes were narrowed, full of curiosity, mirroring the same expression of patience and hungry interest.

“Well,” you finally said after a long moment. “What exactly are the terms of this arrangement you two made behind my back?”

Edward pushed back from the desk, quickly standing as he said, “The terms are simple, my dear. I am so generously sharing you with Crane – with your approval, of course. He must ask for my permission if he would like to have you for an evening.”

He took a step closer, reaching forward, capturing your chin between his fingers, running his thumb along your bottom lip in a way that made heat pool in your core. “And you, my dear, are not allowed to play favorites. We both shall have equal access to you – at all times. Whenever we want. How we want. Wherever we want.”

You sucked in a slow, controlled breath, letting his words wash over you as that delicious heat throbbed between your legs. The very idea of being taken by these two men – one who had a hold on your heart, the other you still weren’t sure yet – but the very idea excited you.

And angered you.

You narrowed your eyes, meeting Edward’s gaze. “I’m not a toy to be passed around,” you said, a bite in your voice now.

“Of course not,” Edward said, his thumb now slowly stroking right below your bottom lip with care. “This is an arrangement that will benefit all of us. “Our curiosities will be satisfied, and you shall be quite satisfied, detective.” He smirked, that tricky glint in his eyes gleaming.

You looked away again, your gaze straying somewhere far across the other side of the room. A thousand words hung on your lips, but you could not seem to get them out. You had so many questions, but your mind was drawing a blank, too wrapped up in your own terror and excitement and desire. To be so…needed. Wanted. Desired. By these two men…it alighted a fire within you, awakening so many dark desires in your heart, bringing to life a darkness that resided in the very depths of your soul. You shivered against Edward’s touch, trembling, fear and desire pooling in your stomach, melding together as one.

“Is it fear or desire that makes you tremble so?” Jonathan asked, stepping forward.

“Both,” you answered, because that was the honest truth.

They exchanged a look, and Edward’s hand slipped from your chin. He finally took a step back, disappearing into the dark shadows of the office to lean against the wall and cross his arms, making room for Jonathan to step in front of you now. He studied you with a careful eye, his gaze roaming every inch of your skin.

“Dilated pupils. Flushed skin,” he said quietly, as if more to himself, but his gaze dropped to your chest, pausing there for a moment; you glanced down, realizing that your nipples had hardened, slightly poking through the fabric of your dress.

Jonathan glanced back at you. “Signs of your arousal are clearly evident.”

Your gaze slid from Jonathan back to Edward, who was watching the entire interaction silently, his head cocked slightly to the side. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the blood rushing through your ears, the warmth between your legs – Jonathan was clearly right. You were aroused. You were terrified.

And you were also completely at their mercy.

Your gaze shifted back to Jonathan. “And what exactly do you want out of this, Crane?”

He took another slow, calculated step forward until he was but millimeters from you. Slowly, his hand reached out once more to capture your chin between two fingers, slightly lifting your face to look directly into your eyes.

“I want you,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “But I will not unless you give me permission. Such brutalities are far beneath me. I will only touch you if you say so.”

He was but millimeters away from you, and you hesitated, a sharp breath leaving your lips. You glanced over Jonathan’s shoulder once more, searching for Edward, and he gave you a slow nod. Giving his permission. But if you went down this route, you knew the utter truth: there would be no going back. There would be no way to forget this happened. Edward already had his claws in you, and if you allowed Crane to do the same…there would be no changing that. You would be theirs – both of theirs – completely.

And, perhaps, the truth was that you wanted to be.

You glanced back at Jonathan. “Then take me,” you whispered.

That was all he needed. In an instant, his lips were on yours, crushing, bruising. One of his hands grabbed your hip, fingers digging into your flesh. His other hand snaked up, threading itself in your hair, tugging lightly. His kisses were not gentle – they were rough, possessive, his tongue invading your mouth with almost a brutal possessiveness. You gasped lightly, your tongue meeting his, sending a shiver down your spine. Your hands gripped his shoulders tightly as his mouth moved from your lips, across your jaw, down your neck. His lips were rough from scarring, and he smelled of a strange mixture of musk and woods, the scent invading your nose. His teeth nipped at your neck, his tongue snaking out to massage each small bite, as if soothing your flesh. Slowly, testing, you spread your legs slightly, allowing him to nestle himself in between them – and you could already feel the hardness of his own arousal suddenly pressing against your core. You leaned into him, arching your back, a soft moan escaping your lips as his mouth and teeth found that sensitive spot on your neck – the one that made you crumble beneath him. You shuddered against him, his body hard and lean – leaner than Edward’s, and you found yourself comparing the way Jonathan kissed you to the way Edward did.

A low rumble escaped Jonathan’s mouth, and his onslaught of kisses continued, working their way across the delicate flesh of your collarbone. He brushed your necklace aside and let his tongue drag across your skin, causing a shudder to pass through you. His tongue was warm, wet, sending a delicious heat rippling across every inch of your body, shooting pleasure all the way down to your clit. You gasped as he brought his lips up the other side of your jaw, as if to savor the other side of your face, his teeth nipping once more at your skin.

Opening your eyes slightly, you found Edward continuing to watch with a strange curiosity in his gaze, his eyes narrowed and focused on the scene at hand. At watching another man touch you, have his way with you – sending another tremble through you, bundling fear deep in your core, tightening in your stomach.

Just then, Jonathan’s hand gripped your chin once more, forcing you to look back at him, his eyes cold and calculating. “Don’t look at him, pet,” he said quietly. “Focus on me. Or are you afraid of what he might be thinking?”

The sharp intake of breath made you tremble again, and you licked your lips before saying, “Yes…I’m afraid.”

“No need to be afraid,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “Fear is good. It reminds you of the dangers that surround you. After all, you’re here with us, aren’t you? You have every right to be afraid.”

You were quiet for a beat – because you were afraid of where this would lead, what would come of it, what Edward would think to watch as you were ravished by another man. But your own curiosity, your own pull towards Jonathan, was too much to bear, too confusing, further drawing you into that darkest part of yourself that you did not want to admit to.

His grip on your chin tightened. “Fear governs everything you do,” he continued. “And it also gives way to more…primal desires, detective. Desires you try to deny yourself. Desires you do not want to admit to, that frighten you. Am I correct?”

“Yes,” you whispered, knowing every word out of his mouth was right.

His cold eyes narrowed, and he backed away slightly, studying you carefully. His cold, cruel gaze was enough to cause your trembling body to tremble even more, to cause panic swelling in your stomach. A part of you desperately wanted to bolt out of this room, to flee, but you were glued to the spot – your desire too great to ignore. You fought the urge to look over at Edward again, despite how great your curiosity was, and kept your eyes fixated on Jonathan instead, watching as his hand snaked up to stroke at your face, in a motion that could be disguised for gentle, but you saw it for what it was: complete control. His hand brushed across your cheek – before suddenly gripping into your hair once more, tangling in your strands, his nails digging slightly into your scalp in that painful, pleasurable sort of way. A soft gasp escaped your lips as his roughness, and you trembled against him.

His eyes roved over you carefully, as if taking every inch of you in, as if trying to figure out what to do with you next. You couldn’t help but wonder how experienced he was, how many men or women he’d been with, what kind of things he was into. You smirked, a heat of desire pulsing in your belly at the way he looked at you with such primal intention.

“Undress,” he finally said, a low command, leaving no room for arguing.

You blinked, a bit taken aback, but your gaze slid to the door. “What if someone—”

“It’s been taken care of,” Edward spoke up. “No need to worry, my dear. No one will be coming into this room to disturb us.”

Your gaze flickered back to Jonathan. His expression was emotionless, unyielding, not giving away anything to what he might be thinking. He was completely and utterly controlled. Fear knotted in your stomach, but with trembling hands, you slipped out of your dress. The cool air brushed across your naked skin, your nipples growing hard; you shimmied out of the dress and let it pool at the bottom of the desk, leaving you in nothing but a lacy green thong that you’d specifically picked out for Edward. The heavy swell of your breasts were revealed for both men to see, and Jonathan’s eyes immediately dropped to your pert, pink nipples. You squeezed your thighs together, feeling the dampness of your own arousal between your legs. Every part of you was on high alert, on edge, teetering over the precipice of fear and terror. You had never done this before – never had sex while another man watched, especially if that other man was your own boyfriend, and you were in a room with two of Gotham’s most dangerous men, but that was beside the point.

Slowly, Jonathan reached out, testing the weight of your left breast in his hand, his thumb stroking over the nipple gently. You sucked in a soft breath at the small jolt of pleasure that radiated through your breast. His hands were rough, calloused, and he pinched your nipple between two fingers, earning another gasp from you. You trembled at his touch, at the fire his fingers left in their wake across your skin. His eyes were narrowed, studying your reaction, and you titled your head back slightly, arching your back so he had better access to your breasts. He cupped the other breast in his hand, needing and palming at it, his touch growing rougher and more needy by the second. A low whine left your lips, and you closed your eyes, relaxing into his touch – but just as you did, you felt his hand at your throat again.

“Eyes on me, pet,” he said, and your eyes snapped open, another jolt of fear radiating throughout your body. You met his gaze again, studying the emotionless expression on his face, as his fingers trailed downward, carefully grazing down your stomach to the hem of your thong.

He glanced at you again, then back down, before slowly lowering to his knees. Your breath caught in your throat, and you shuddered as his gaze never left yours. Your breaths were shallow, uncertain, nerves and fear writhing in your belly like a parasite. Slowly, he leaned in, snaking his tongue out to delicately brush across your inner thigh – only inches away from where you most wanted him to be. His tongue ran lines down your inner thigh, tracing in circular patterns, before reaching back up to the bend of your leg – and then, suddenly, he bit down.

You gasped at the sudden pain, jolting slightly, trembling in both pain and pleasure at the sharpness of his teeth. But as quickly as the bite came, so did his tongue once more, swirling around the bite as if to soothe it. You glanced at Edward once more, finding him still standing there, watching with a curious, lustful gaze in his eye. You glanced down at his groin, noticing the hardness of his own erection in the confines of his trousers, and your insides warmed at the idea of him being turned on by this entire interaction – even if there was a lingering jealousy in his gaze. You smirked slyly, spreading your legs a little further for Jonathan to have access to. He glanced up at you from in between your legs, before rising back up. The look in his eyes was full of a cold, cruelness to them, not a hint of warmth in his cloudy gaze – and just that look made you tremble more, made the hairs on the back of your neck rise on end. You were sure if he could devour you whole, he would.

Suddenly, his hand shot out once more, and his hands tangled in your hair once again, fingers digging tightly in. “Show me how you pleasure yourself, detective.”

His words took you aback, but your mouth fell open slightly in surprise. You hesitated, but slowly reached in between your legs. Pushing your thong aside slightly, you dove two fingers into your own wetness. With your other hand, you used one finger to swirl around your clit in slow, meticulous motions, causing a bolt of pleasure to shudder through you. It surged through your thighs, down to the tips of your toes, across every inch of your skin, and your mouth dropped open silently as you continued to fuck yourself with your own fingers. He watched silently, before he leaned forward, his lips at your ear.

“Does it frighten you, detective? To have two men watch you while you pleasure yourself?” he whispered lowly. “To see you completely unraveled, vulnerable, at our mercy?”

You shuddered at his words, trying to fight the fear coursing through your veins. Trying to keep some shred of dignity you still had left. As if in answer, your gaze flickered past Jonathan and over to Edward, who still remained bathed in the shadows, watching with strange look in his eyes.

“Don’t look at him,” Jonathan barked out, his voice low and cruel. “Focus on me, pet.”

Your eyes snapped back to him, and a low gasp escaped your lips as ripples of pleasure bundled underneath your skin. Every inch of you was on fire, your brain going fuzzy from the pleasure of your own fingers working their magic against you in just the way you liked. You could feel yourself builder higher and higher towards a release – and having two men watch you made it all the more sweeter.

Jonathan reached forward, snaking his hand through your hair once more, tightening his fingers at your scalp. You gasped as he pulled onto the strands, tilting your head back slightly, his cold gaze never leaving yours for an instant.

“Is it the thrill of being watched that makes you tremble like this?” he asked lowly, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble. “Or the danger?”

The only answer you gave was a soft gasp. Heat flushed across your skin. Here you were: propped up on this desk, your legs spread wide, revealing the most vulnerable part of yourself for both men to see. Wetness coated your fingers, and you pumped two fingers in and out of yourself, gasping in tandem at the way your other finger swirled around your clit. Pleasure bundled in your stomach, tightening in your abdomen, knots of pure ecstasy rising higher and higher with each stroke, each thrust, each motion.

Jonathan studied you carefully, his eyes roving over every inch of your body, pausing to watch you fuck yourself. He showed no signs of emotion across his face, and you couldn’t even tell if he was enjoying watching this. Your fingers began to slow slightly, wondering if he was growing bored with this, but his cold voice filled the room once more.

“Does it scare you, detective?” he asked, leaning forward, his lips just brushing the shell of your ear. “To be so completely at the mercy of two men who are watching you right now?”

His words sent another rippled of fear down your spine. It tightened in your stomach, molding together with your pleasure, causing your heart to beat like a wild animal against your ribcage. Sweat beaded on your brow as your entire body flushed from head to toe, sending a shiver across your skin. Your breath quickened at his question, your fingers slowing their movements as you considered his question—

“I did not say you could stop,” Jonathan said, his voice a low command.

The words out of his mouth made you pause for a millisecond, before you resumed the work of your fingers: pumping in and out of yourself, swirling your finger around your clit. You leaned back a little more against the table, but his fingers in your hair did not let up, only tightened harder, sending a small ripple of pain across your skull. You were completely at his mercy, just his words enough to edge you closer to the brink. Your fear melding together with the pleasure in a strange kind of concoction – somehow enhancing your pleasure in a way you’d never experienced before. You snuck another glance at Edward, and he stood back, his eyes narrowed, and lips pressed into a thin line. But that look – of knowing your own boyfriend was watching another man do this to you, it sparked another bolt of fear down your spine, and yet at the very same time, it turned on you to heights you’d never experienced before. Jonathan’s hands released from around your hair, and he stepped back slightly, just enough to take in the full sight of you in your needy, wanton mess.

“Find your release, detective,” he said. “But keep your eyes on me as you do.”

You nodded, barely, breathless as your eyes found his cold, cruel gaze once more. He was staring at you as if you were a bug under his feet, something to be squashed entirely. Fear knotted in your belly, creeping up your spine – but you continued to fuck yourself with your fingers, quickening your pace as your climax teetered right on the edge – and suddenly, the little bundle of pleasure grew higher and higher – before exploding throughout your body. You gasped, crying out as wave after wave of indescribable pleasure coursed through your body. Your legs and hips bucked as you continued to work your fingers against yourself, chasing the rest of your high. But as the sensations trickled away, you finally removed your hands and relaxed against the desk, sucking in slow, deep breaths. Every inch of your skin was on fire, and a flush crept across your skin. You raised your eyes to him, looking back and forth between the two men, feeling completely exposed and raw and vulnerable. You’d never…touched yourself in front of two men before, not like this. Not when there were two pairs of eyes to look at you.

“Very good, detective,” Jonathan said quietly, but his voice held no ounce of praise. Just that patented cold, calculating nature to it. “Now. On your knees.”

You sat up a bit, sucking in a breath, a funny feeling at what he wanted next arising within you. You fought against looking at Edward once more, despite your every instinct screaming to, and slowly, you pushed yourself off the desk and lowered to your knees in front of Jonathan. Your knees knocked together, your entire body trembling. It wasn’t like you’d ever given a man a blowjob before – but something about this…about giving it to a man like Jonathan while Edward watched…it was frightening. Terrifying.

And exhilarating, all at the same time.

Jonathan was quiet as he reached down, undoing the buckle of his belt. With only a few smooth moves of his deft fingers, he slipped his cock from his pants: engorged, glistening with precum at the tip. Your eyes widened at the sight. He wasn’t quite as long as Edward, but he was a bit girthier, and thin, throbbing veins ran along his shaft. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, your body prickling with heat as you gazed up at him.

“Open your mouth,” he said, another command. “And let me in.”

Your mouth opened slightly, a moment of hesitation, before you opened your jaw a little wider. His tip approached you carefully, before his cockhead slid into your mouth. Inch by inch, he slid himself inside of you. You wrapped your mouth around him, breathing through your nose as you massaged the underside of his member with your tongue. One of his hands came to tighten itself in your hair again, his nails digging into your scalp. He tasted of salt and sweat and skin, a brown patch of curls poking through the confines of his pants. He filled your mouth completely, and he slid in and out of you with careful strokes.

“Detective,” he said, almost a groan. “I believe you know what to do, yes?”

You nodded, gazing up at him while he remained in your mouth. Using your other hand, you wrapped it around his shaft, pumping slowly in combination with your mouth and tongue. A low groan escaped his lips as you worked against his length, taking him deeper and deeper into your mouth until he hit the back of your throat. You gagged slightly at the intrusion, but breathed through your nose. Soft groans escaped his lips, and when you looked up again, you found his head tilted back slightly, still gazing down at you, watching your every move. You moaned softly around his member, taking him all the way in, over and over again. His fingers tightened in your hair as a low, guttural groan escaped his lips, and you smirked, watching him come undone. It was quite a sight to behold: the Master of Fear with his head titled back, losing himself to the pleasure you offered. You moaned against his length again, taking him deeper, faster, and he slowly bucked his hips into your mouth in tandem slowly and meticulously, every movement of his precise and controlled. Your core warmed, arousal dampening in between your legs, and your gaze flickered to Edward, still standing in the shadows with a narrowed, lustful gaze. Warm pleasure pooled in your core, and you fought the urge to reach down and touch yourself again, too busy giving Jonathan the pleasure he so craved at this very moment.

Just as you began to quicken your pace, he suddenly pulled back, slipping himself from your mouth. You glanced up at him, a bit surprised at how he’d pulled away, and a bout of disappointment rippled through you. His member was coated in your saliva, glistening in the light. You sat back on your knees, his taste lingering on your tongue.

Jonathan reached down, placing a hand across the top of your head, trailing his fingers down your cheek and to your chin, where he lifted your head up slightly. “That pretty mouth of yours has certainly had a bit of practice, now hasn’t it?” He glanced at Edward for a moment.

Edward’s smirk grew, his lustful gaze twinkling. “Jealous, Crane?”

A bolt of pleasure knotted in your stomach again, and a sense of pride swelled inside of you, as if happy to be pleasing Edward by doing this – even if this was sucking off another dangerous man, one who made you tremble with fear. You weren’t sure what Crane was going to do next, but that fear further increased inside of you, balling into a cold, hard knot at the center of your ribcage. But more than that, you feared how Edward was thinking, feeling, if he was going to lash out in a jealous rage and take you for his own.

“Look at me,” Jonathan said again, forcing your eyes back to him. His head cocked slightly to the side, as if studying you with cruel intention. “Do you fear what he might be thinking? That you’re here, servicing me instead? Or…do you wish it was him in my place?”

You can’t help how much your trembling, a cold chill brushing across your naked flesh. Your teeth are practically chattering with the fear – and you can’t even bring yourself to answer him, to make your terror known. But you can see it in his eyes: how much he’s enjoying your fear, your terror, and you can’t pull your eyes away.

His grip tightened on your chin. “Answer me,” he said.

“I…” you struggled to find the words. “I…I’m afraid of what he’s thinking. I’m afraid he’s going to look at me like…” You paused, the words stilling in your mouth, heavy on your tongue. Like I’m nothing but his plaything. Like a whore. Like a toy to be passed around.

Jonathan quirked a brow, seeming to understand what you were going to say. But his hand finally dropped from your chin, and he took a step back, tucking himself into his pants. “Like what?” he asked, a cruel smirk twitching at the edge of his lips.

Great. He was going to make you say it. Of course he was.

“Like I’m a whore,” you whispered. “Like I’ll be…tainted after this. Like he won’t want me anymore.” The words tumbled out of you, and it took you a moment to realize you were shaking, your fears bundling deep in your stomach, spreading a coldness through your limbs.

“Tainted?” Jonathan asked, his head tilting slightly to the side. “My dear, you were tainted by Nigma the very moment you let his cock enter you. The moment you spread your legs for him, every inch of you was poisoned by his narcissist, egotistical nature.”

Edward scoffed under his breath, a sound of disgust. “I’m sure that speech will really get her going, Crane,” he said.

Jonathan glanced back at Edward. “Why don’t we see, hmm?” His gaze shifted back to you once more. “Back on the desk, pet. And remove that silly little thing.” He nodded to your thong, now soaked through.

Nodding, you stood and slowly slipped out of the thong, stepping out of it one leg at a time. You let it fall onto the floor atop your dress, heat burning your cheeks, spreading through every inch of your flesh. Your skin was on fire with desire and terror and everything in between. You hoisted yourself back onto the desk, using your arms to prop yourself up behind you.

Jonathan met your gaze once more. “Spread your legs.”

His command was not gentle. There was no warmth to his voice, no seduction, just a pure, calculated coldness. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you listened, spreading your thighs apart, revealing your most intimate spot. His gaze rove over your naked body, before landing on your womanhood. He took a step closer, resting one hand on your thigh, his fingers digging in. With the other hand, he tentatively reached forward, stroking at your wet folds with a curious carefulness. You sucked in a breath, preparing yourself for what he might do next; he brushed aside your folds, toying with them, before he slid two fingers into you. A soft breath escaped your lips as his long digits filled you, and slowly, he pulled them back – and then inserted them again, repeating the motion over and over again in a slow manner.

“So wet,” he mumbled, as if he was making an observation and you were an experiment. He continued the slow motions of his fingers, in and out, in and out, and you tilted your head back slightly, soft gasps escaping your lips.

“Touch yourself, detective,” he said, his voice once more a command. “I want to see you find your release on my fingers.”

You didn’t hesitate – you were too caught up in this, in the heat and desire, to argue. Your finger immediately found your clit, and you began stroking yourself in the motion you enjoyed. As you did, his fingers began to pump out of you harder, faster, at a furious pace, fucking you. You gasped at the sensation of his fingers and you stroking your clit – together in tandem, slowly bundling pleasure in your core. Sweat beaded down your brow and soft gasps and moans escaped your lips out of your control. You titled your head back, not daring to shut your eyes, fearing Jonathan would simply command you to keep them open. But as he fucked you with his fingers, your legs began to tremble and shake, your whole body tightening with the pleasure he gave you. Your gasps grew louder as you felt that pleasure building inside of you, rocking your core, igniting a fire in your belly. God, you were close – so fucking close – and just as you swirled your finger around your clit again – that band inside you snapped, releasing a wave of ecstasy across your skin. A loud cry escaped your lips, and Jonathan’s fingers only continued to work their magic inside of you. Your fingernails dug into the table as you bucked your hips into his hand, chasing the finality of your orgasm.

As the last of your climax washed over you, you slowly removed your hand, resting it atop the desk, panting as his fingers came to a slow, before he removed them entirely. Jonathan brought his two fingers up, studying the wet sheen coating his fingers, before he opened his mouth – and he licked his fingers clean. The motion made your insides clench and tighten with another bolt of heat, watching with desire as he licked himself of your juices. Your mouth fell open slightly, and your skin prickled with a delicious desire, a desperation to continue this. His eyes never broke from yours as he licked each digit clean, his eyes roaming over you. You couldn’t help but steal a glance over at Edward, who continued to watch with that lustful, jealous gaze burning in his blue eyes. The room was so quiet, all you could hear was the thundering of your heart beating like a rabid animal against your breastbone.

Edward took a step forward, a scoff escaping his lips. “Making her work for it, Crane? The least you could is use your own mouth. Here, why don’t I show you, since you can’t even make her cum properly.”

The breath caught in your throat as you glanced between both men, a bundle of heat stirring within your core. Jonathan glanced at Edward, his eyes cold and narrowed, but he stepped aside and said, “Be my guest, Edward.”

Smirking, Edward approached you, wandering over as he studied you, his eyes roving over every inch of your body. His gaze was full of desire, and you noted the obvious erection pressing against the confines of his pants.

“Edward,” you whispered, but he cupped your face in between your hands as he shushed you, pressing his lips to yours. His kiss was passionate, greedy, as if a clear display of his ownership over you. Like even though he had agreed to share you tonight, you still belonged completely to him.

As he pulled away, his hands dropped down to your thighs, gripping them tightly as he pulled them apart eagerly and lowered to his knees. In an instant, his mouth was on your clit, sucking gently, and you gasped, shuddering at the sensation of his tongue and mouth working against your overly sensitive clit. With two fingers, he inserted them into you, curving them, until he found your G-spot, stroking against the sensitive spot. A low whine escaped your lips as you tilted your head back, practically melting against his mouth, losing yourself to the pleasure he offered. Stars danced in your vision, and your entire body trembled with need and heat – but you were so preoccupied, lost in the feel of Edward’s tongue lapping against your clit, that you didn’t realize Jonathan walked around the side of the desk, coming up behind you.

You felt his breath suddenly at your neck, and he brushed your hair aside, exposing the left side of your neck. Jonathan’s lips were at your ear, his voice a cruel, cold whisper, “Do you fear being at our mercy, detective?” he asked.

As he spoke, his fingers pinched at your nipples, tugging lightly on the swollen bud. You gasped, jerking slightly into Edward’s mouth, but his grip on your thighs tightened, digging his fingers in as he continued to work you with his mouth and tongue. Jonathan rolled the soft bud of your nipple between two fingers, playing with it, twisting lightly. Another soft gasp escaped your lips as your head fell back further, resting against his shoulder.

“Knowing that you’re completely powerless to stop us?” he continued, his breath tickling your skin. “Powerless to the way your body responds to us?”

A low whine escaped your lips. Your brain was a fog of complete pleasure, all thoughts vanished somewhere far away, where you may never find them again. Edward’s fingers moved at a furious pace inside of you as his tongue continued to lick at your clit in slow, meticulous strokes. Pleasure bundled in your core, spreading a wildfire across your skin. You couldn’t form any words, any thought, any care other than drowning in the way Edward fucked you with his tongue while Jonathan played with your breasts, toying at your nipples, his breath hot in your eat. His other hand grabbed at your chin, his fingers trailing upwards towards your mouth.

“Open,” he said, a sharp command.

You obeyed instantly, opening your mouth, and he stuck his first two fingers inside. You could taste your own wetness on his fingers, sweet.

“Suck,” he said.

You closed your lips around his fingers, swirling your tongue along the long, dexterous digits, continuing to taste your own juices on his fingers. His other hand continued to palm at your breast, twisting your nipples in a painful, yet pleasurable way that made you gasp around his fingers. Suddenly, he pulled his fingers from your mouth, his hand resting once more around your throat, and he squeezed lightly. A bolt of fear ran down your spine, melding together with the pleasure growing and bundling like a tightening rubber band in your core, threatening to snap, to make you come undone for a third time.

Jonathan looked into your eyes; his own were dark and clouded, filled with that same cold cruelty, as if you were nothing but his own toy to play with. His grip on your throat tightened, and the pleasure in your clit only surged higher. With one hand, you reached forward, gripping your hand tightly into Edward’s hair, urging him to continue as you arched your back, beckoning your soaking cunt further into his mouth. He continued, eagerly sucking on your clit now, and you felt that little bundle of pleasure grow – before it burst completely.

A low cry escaped your lips as your whole body wracked against his mouth, hot-white ecstasy surging through your entire body. You cursed under your breath as your body shook and writhed, your orgasm washing over you, making your toes curl. You tugged at Edward’s hair, whispering his name, losing yourself as you relaxed against Jonathan’s chest, crying out. But just as quickly as it came, the pleasure began to wane. Edward pulled away after a moment, gazing up at you, his lips coated in your wetness. He smirked as he stood up, looking rather pleased with himself.

His eyes flickered to Jonathan. “See, Crane? I didn’t hear her crying out your name.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, and you swallowed, trying to gain your composure. Heat bundled in your womanhood, a pleasurable sensation tingling at your clit; your whole body felt spent and worn, and sweat beaded down your forehead, between the valley of your breasts.

Jonathan made a sound of amusement. “No need to compete, Edward. I’m sure your little toy has enjoyed both of us. Isn’t that right, pet?” He squeezed at your throat again.

Your eyes snapped open, and you looked between them, unable to find the words as you continued to try and catch your breath.

“Well?” Jonathan asked, raising a brow, an expectant look on his face.

“Yes,” you whispered, struggling to find your voice.

“But who did you enjoy more?” Edward asked, raising his own brows. You could see the look in his eyes – the desperation for your approval, for you to choose him.

Well, you had to admit, there was something more pleasurable about him using his tongue instead of making you do it yourself. His question caught you off guard, but you couldn’t help the sly smile that curved at the corners of your mouth. Meeting his eyes, you said, “You, Edward. I enjoyed you more.”

“Ha! Take that, Crane!” Edward cried, smiling triumphantly.

A laugh threatened to bubble up out of your chest, but you swallowed it down. Jonathan made a sound, almost of disapproval, and his fingers only dug further into your throat, making you squirm. It was a little painful, just enough to cause you to tremble in fear, but not enough to frighten you completely. You just felt the tips of his nails grazing against your soft skin, threatening to scrape against your flesh.

Jonathan’s mouth was suddenly at your ear, his teeth grazing your skin. “Such a naughty pet, playing us against each other…is that anyway to behave?”

You pursed your lips. A thousand words hung on your tongue, but you couldn’t help yourself – you were in too deep, too far gone with pleasure and lust and desire to think about anything else other than what was happening right now, in this very room, with these two men. They offered you something you’d never been given before: pleasure and attention like you’d never had, never seen, as they worshipped you like you were something to be cherished.

But you couldn’t help the bratty remark that left your lips, “It is when you two decided to go behind my back and make this little arrangement,” you said, quietly, voice barely a breath.

That made a low chuckle rumble from Edward’s throat. “Fair enough. But now I believe you’re just being a naughty little tease, aren’t you, detective?”

“Maybe,” you replied, your smirk growing. You couldn’t help it – the very idea of being here with both of these dangerous men, who both wanted you…it was terrifying and exciting all the same, and a part of you wanted to see just how much you could push their buttons.

It was Jonathan’s turn to let out a sound of amusement, as his lips reached the shell of your ear once more, his tongue snaking out to brush across your ear, making you tremble as he said, “On the couch now, pet.”

Your gaze flickered to the other side of the room, where there was a small couch resting in the corner. Edward took a step back, helping you to your trembling feet, as you wandered over to the couch. You felt the dampness between your thighs, and your breasts hung with a heavy swell, your whole body flushed, nipples pert and pink.

“Sit,” Jonathan said. Another sharp command.

You nodded, turning back to face them, and you sunk onto the couch. Just as you did, Jonathan walked forward; he got down onto his knees and grabbed your thighs, spreading them wide, once more revealing your wet cunt to him. You gasped slightly as his nails dug into your flesh, and he glanced up at you.

“Now, pet,” he said. “I want you to stay focused. No getting distracted now.”

As he spoke, you watched Edward unzip his own trousers, pulling his own engorged, swollen cock from his pants. Your breath hitched in your throat as another wave of desire passed over you, making you shudder. Edward took a step closer, holding his shaft in hand, as he gave himself a few slow, measured strokes. But before you could say anything, Jonathan’s mouth was suddenly at your clit now, sucking the swollen, over sensitive bud.

“Fuck,” you cursed out, jolting back, but his hands dug further into your thighs to keep you still. He glanced up at you, his eyes cold and cruel, the warning within them clear.

Your gaze shifted back to Edward again; his cock was swollen, precum dripping from the red tip. You immediately opened your mouth, greedy, and grabbed onto his shaft, taking his head into your mouth. You licked at his head while swallowing him as deep as you could go – but at the same time, Jonathan continued to lap at your clit like a starved animal, greedy and sloppy, his tongue working overtime. Small bursts of pleasure bundled in your core, alighting a fire in your belly, and your already sensitive clit was at it’s peak. Edward tasted of salt and skin, and you groaned as Jonathan sucked on your clit. A soft curse escaped Edward’s lips as he titled his head back, one of his hands tangling itself in your hair, pulling tight on the strands.

You pulled back for air, a low curse escaping your own lips, “Fuck…”

Just as you stopped, so did Jonathan. He pulled back slightly, glancing up at you, one brow raised in curiosity. “I believe I didn’t tell you to stop, yes?”

“I—” But before you could get a word out, one of his hands came up and smacked at your clit. You yelped in pain and pleasure, too overstimulated to think straight.

“Continue,” Jonathan said. There was no warmth in his voice.

With just that one command, his mouth latched onto your clit again, and you took Edward back into your mouth. You worked him with your tongue and hand, groaning and moaning around his cock in tandem with the way Jonathan sucked and tongued at your clit. Heat ignited inside of you, burning like a wildfire in your belly, spreading through your every vein and muscle, clouding your every thought. Jonathan’s fingers entered you slowly, pumping in an out of you slowly, fucking you, and you pulled back for air again, gasping, a low moan escaping your lips – but once more, he smacked at your clit, and you cried out. An embarrassed flush crept along your skin and up your throat, burning your cheeks.

“She likes it when you smack her ass,” Edward said, rolling his eyes at Jonathan. Smirking, he grabbed onto you, guiding you onto your hands and knees. You held your breath as you braced yourself against the couch, and for a moment, all you felt was air – before Edward’s hand came down in a swift smack on your left ass check. You cried out, gasping, as the sound of skin on skin echoed throughout the room.

A ripple of delicious heat bundled in your core, and you held back your smile. There was something so naughty about being punished like this – being punished between them. Jonathan gripped your chin, turning your head slightly, and you realized he’d pulled his own cock from the confines of his pants, stroking himself now. You greedily took him into your mouth next, tasting the familiarity of skin and salt and sweat. Edward’s lips and fingers found themselves once more at your dripping hole, lapping at your clit, fucking you with his fingers. Another low groan escaped your lips as you felt Edward’s fingers curl inside of you, finding every delicious spot of pleasure that made you moan against Crane’s cock. Jonathan stared down at you, showing no sign of emotion on his face as you took him as deep as you could, almost gagging in the process. As you pulled back for air, you gasped, trying to fill your deprived lungs of oxygen – but the hesitation was enough, and you felt a second swift smack to your ass.

“Ah!” you cried out, shuddering at the pain radiating through your ass cheek. You let out a soft whine, before your mouth found Jonathan’s cock once more. This time, he began thrusting his hips slightly, using your mouth as if it was his own personal fuck toy.

You groaned around his cock again, tightening your hands into the couch, as Edward sucked on your swollen, sensitive bud, furiously pumping his fingers in and out of you. But just as you felt that bundle of pleasure building inside of you, Jonathan pulled back, his cock glistening with your saliva. At the same time, Edward paused his own movements, one of his hands gently gliding over the smooth slope of your ass in a comforting, soothing motion. You sucked in air, nerves tightening in your belly, wondering just what they had in store next. Edward slipped away from you, rising to his own feet, his swollen cock hanging in front of him. You watched as Jonathan reached into his suit coat and pulled out a condom from his pocket. He quickly ripped the foil, and rolled the condom onto his cock, until it was at the base of his shaft, where a soft patch of brown curls was. When he looked back at you, you averted your gaze, almost shyly, knowing what was coming next. Jonathan walked over to the couch, positioning himself behind you, one knee resting on the couch while his other leg steadied himself. He rested one hand on your hip, gently trailing along the curve of your ass, before he gripped tightly, nails digging in. You hissed between your teeth, a soft moan of pleasure escaping your lips as the pain made way for pleasure and heat. And that’s when you felt it – the head of his cock pushing into you, slowly, as he teased himself against your folds.

“Beg, detective,” he said, another order. Another cruel command. “Beg for it, pet.”

You were trembling now, bracing yourself, fingers digging into the couch cushions. You felt his body hovering over yours, warmth radiating off his skin, his breath heavy and ragged. You could just feel all the raw, primal energy coiled tightly inside of him, waiting to be unleashed upon you. There was no room for refusal in his authoritative, animalistic tone, as if he was barely containing himself any longer. Fear erupted in your core, causing goosebumps to rise on your flesh and a chill to creep up the back of your neck. There was something about the change of tone in his voice, how low it had dropped, that made your insides coil with terror. You glanced up to find Edward taking his place at your front, his cock just at your mouth, awaiting you to take him back in and suck him off.

Jonathan teased the tip of his cock at your entrance again. “Come now, pet,” he said, almost a cruel purr. “You want this, don’t you? To be needed and craved and wanted by both of us at the same time?”

“….yes,” you whispered, almost choking out the word. “Please, please fuck me…”

“Say my name,” Jonathan said, his lips at your ear, body hovering over yours.

“Jonathan,” you whispered. “Jonathan please…” You squeezed your eyes shut, feeling his fingers digging tightly into your hips.

“Not that name,” he hissed, tightening his grip.

You paused, feeling the breath knock from your lungs as you realized exactly what he wanted. Slowly, you peeled your eyes open, and you whispered that name he was so desperate to hear, “Please…Scarecrow, please…”

With just that one word, a deep sound of satisfaction rumbled out of his mouth – and he thrust into you. You gasped, crying out at how easily he filled you, how full he made you feel.

You felt his mouth at your ear as he whispered, “Good girl.” A sigh of pleasure escaped your lips, trembling, as his hands roamed over you, before he grabbed onto your hips again. He pulled out slowly – almost completely – before slamming back into you again. You cried out at the thickness of him, at how he took you with an unrestrained desire. He slammed into you again and again, and you glanced up to find Edward watching, holding his cock in his hand; his gaze dropped to you, and you opened your mouth, allowing him to push his cock into your mouth. You relaxed your jaw, allowing him to buck his hips into your mouth as Jonathan fucked you from behind. Your mind went completely blank as you were fucked relentlessly – you could think of nothing but their mouths and tongues and hands and cocks – completely filling you with pleasure, making you see stars. Edward bucked his hips into your mouth, and you breathed through your nose, trying to control your breathing. Low grunts escaped Jonathan’s lips as he slammed his hips into you, rutting into you with the desperation of a man chasing his own release. With each thrust, he filled you completely, slamming right into that spot inside of you. The sound of skin on skin echoed throughout the room, melding together with each gasp and grunt and groan. The sounds of pleasure out of their mouths was like music to your ears, filling you with your own satisfied pleasure at knowing you were the cause of their undoing’s, that you had turned these men into such messes. You were the very reason they were here, wanting you, needing you, craving you, desiring you – and in that moment, you never wanted it to end. The couch creaked with each movement, each thrust, and you felt Jonathan’s balls slapping against your ass while Edward’s slapped against your face. They both grabbed at you, pawing at you with almost a primal need, as if they couldn’t get enough of you – as if their own obsessions with you were growing more dangerous, more unbridled, more desperate.

And somehow, someway, you began to feel it in return. A desperation for both of them, to be at their mercy, to be used like their own plaything and toy. You gasped around Edward’s cock again as Jonathan continued to fuck you, his hips bucking into you, and you felt yourself spiraling out of your own control, out of whatever shred of sanity you had left. Jonathan hissed between his teeth, slowing his thrusts, now taking you deeper, pushing himself all the way inside of you. Edward pulled out of your mouth enough for you to get air, sucking in a deep breath, and you hung your head; it was taking every ounce of your control to keep yourself propped up on your hands and knees, to keep yourself from falling into a heap of pleasure and exhaustion. The room was thick with hot tension and desire, a heavy heat radiating across every inch of your sweat, flushed skin. It was as if their silent agreement extended into each other, as if they were one mind, using you in tandem, taking what they wanted from you.

Edward shoved his cock into your mouth again, and you swallowed with greedily, sucking him off, licking your tongue up and down his shaft. He bucked his hips into your mouth and grabbed onto your breasts, fondling them, pinching and pulling at your nipples. You felt his thrusts suddenly become more sloppy, more desperate, and you felt his cock twitch in your mouth as he came – spilling his seed down your throat. A loud groan escaped his lips as he tilted his head back, his eyes fluttering closed. You swallowed his cum, feeling some of it dribble down your mouth as the rutting of his hips stilled as deep into your mouth as he could go. The bitter taste of his seed filled your mouth, and you swallowed as much of him as you could before he pulled out. His cock was covered in a mix of his own release and your saliva, and he sat back, gasping, trying to gain his composure, a sheen coating across his forehead.

It took you a moment to realize Jonathan had paused his thrusting, as if to allow Edward to finish, before he resumed. One of his hands tangled itself in your hair, pulling your head back, his teeth nipping at your ear as he hissed, “Does it frighten you, detective? To be taken by the Scarecrow?”

His words made you tremble, and a low gasp escaped your lips. His words were possessive and dark, like he was staking a claim over you, letting you know that you were his just as much as you were Edward’s. You couldn’t form a coherent thought or sentence, too caught up in the way his cock continued to buck in and out of your dripping, wet cunt.

“Or does it excite you?” he continued. “Knowing you belong to both of us?”

In response, all you could give was a low whine, a gasp, and you squeezed your eyes shut. His words made you tremble, made your skin prickle with delicious heat. His words seemed to wrap around you, blanketing you in the fear and realization of what you were doing – and who you were doing it with – but at this moment, you didn’t even care.

“Answer me, pet,” he purred.

“Yes!” you gasped out, cursing under your breath once more as he pounded into you with a relentless frenzy. “Yes – fuck…please…”

“Good girl,” he whispered again. His hand loosened from your hair, traveling down to the base of your neck, where he gripped tightly. With a careful grip, he forced your head down, burying your face into the couch cushion. You gasped, gazing up at Edward as he watched, his cock now softening and hanging limp. You gritted your teeth, and with one final thrust, Jonathan groaned low and deep in his throat as he shoved himself as far into you as he could go. You felt his cock twitch, and warmth fill the end of the condom inside of you. You collapsed onto the couch, utterly spent, unable to move. Slowly, you felt Jonathan slip himself out of you, leaving you feeling empty.

“Such a good girl, detective,” Edward murmured. “Taking us both so well.” There was thick, dark satisfaction laced in his voice.

His words made your heart flutter with pride, as if you’d done something so good and well for them, satisfied them both, alighting a desperation inside of you that you didn’t even know you wanted. You laid there for a moment, trying to adjust to the afterglow and the mix of pleasure and pain swirling inside of you, trying to regain some sanity over the moment. You felt Jonathan shift behind you, and when you glanced back, he stood up. The condom was filled at the tip with white cum, and he wandered away, off towards a garbage can on the other side of the room. A quiet stillness filled the room, but the air was still heavy with tension.

“Are you all right?” Edward asked as Crane cleaned himself up.

“I’m…okay,” you whispered, trying to regain your composure. With Edward’s help, you lifted yourself up. Every part of your body was spent and sweaty, and you maneuvered yourself into a sitting position. You still tasted Edward’s cum on your tongue.

The moment almost didn’t feel real now that it was over. There was a strange absence inside of you now as you tried to register what you’d done, and the new dynamics between the three of you now. Slowly, you ran a hand through your hair, smoothing out the tangles. An embarrassed flush crept along your skin, and you looked down at your shaky, trembling legs. There was a part of you that was absolutely excited over what just happened – and just as equally terrified by the encounter, too.

A moment later, you finally lifted your eyes to see that both Edward and Jonathan had tucked their cocks back into their pants. You found Jonathan reaching down to gather up your thong and dress, and he approached you, holding them out for you. You mumbled a quick thank you, before Edward helped you to your feet, giving you the space to shimmy back into your clothes. As you did, you felt both their eyes on you, and you couldn’t help but notice the little bruises and teeth marks in your skin at their touches. A rumble of satisfaction erupted deep in your core, and you couldn’t help the soft smile that spread across your lips.

“Well,” you said, once you were dressed. “So…that happened.”

Edward chuckled deep in his throat. “Yes, detective, it did. Now, perhaps we should get you home, yes?”

You shot him a look, but nodded. You were desperate for a shower to wash off the sweat, but your gaze flickered back to Jonathan for a quick moment. He straightened out his suit coat and adjusted his tie, appearing as if this entire interaction had never happened at all.

“Until next time, detective,” Jonathan said, his voice dark and possessive. He turned on his heels and opened the door of the office, stepping back out into the hall.

You followed after him, but before you could step forward, Edward’s hand gripped your arm tight, his fingers digging into your skin. He lowered his mouth to your ear and whispered, “Just because I’ve agreed to share you with Crane doesn’t make you any less mine, do you understand?”

“Yes,” you murmured, a tingle creeping up your spine.

“Good,” he replied. Then he let you go and gave your ass a gentle smack. You shot him a look, smirking, but stepped into the hall. Edward followed you and shut the office door behind him. Quietly, the three of you walked back down the hall, an odd tenseness filling the air between the three of you, too many unspoken words dangling in the air.

But as you came back towards the party, you noticed Commissioner Cash peek his head out, searching both ways down the hall before his eyes landed on you. “Detective,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “I was wondering where you’d run off to. These two aren’t giving you any trouble, are they?” He glanced between Edward and Jonathan with suspicion in his eyes.

You smiled. “Not at all, Commissioner. Not at all.”

[muchimmm]

GOTHAM ROGUES DATING SIM VIDEO GAME

IM TIRED THAT MY GOTHAM ROGUES DATING SIM DOESNT EXIST SO I'LL DO IT MYSELF

Al the progress is being posted here @dating-the-rogues

(Requesting help with programming, I can do the art and story but if you want to help with that then you are welcome)

Character I want in: (colors=probability to be in game)

Riddler

Scarecrow

Two Face

Poison Ivy

Harley Quinn

Catwoman

Bane

Music Meister

Joker

Mad Hatter

The Penguin

Talia al Ghul

RatCatcher (I really want to add him but most of the people dont really care about that guy lmao)

Hope the comunity understands my vision 🙏!!

It will not have +18 content, maybe some sugestive situations, but Im not comfortable with explicit sex sorry!!

If I start soon with the art the game will probably be finished in August. , not sure yet

Will be posted on Itch. io

IMPORTANT: I want to clarify- if you want to help with the project, you will not be paid, I dont have any money!!

[bangsinc]

I am so starved for btas scarecrow content and you're the best blog that writes him the best way in my opinion, can you do head canons for when btas scarecrow is jealous? (General Scarecrow is so underrated and btas version is more 😭)-🩷

🎃Jealous!BTAS Scarecrow x Reader🎃

Sorry this took a bit, but thank you so much for all the sweet words!! IT MEANS SM LIKE ACTUALLYYY!!

Jonathan doesn’t find himself to be a very jealous man. He’s mastered most of his emotions, and is quite in tune with them more often than not. After all, when’s the last time anyones seen that professor smile?

Of course, he’s quite the soft romantic for his partner. He has no qualms breaking his comfort zone for your own comfort, even if he very openly begrudgingly does so. He’s supposed to be self centered, and finds that you make this increasingly difficult.

I could imagine that, maybe while as ‘Scarecrow’ (if we’re going with the idea that Jonathan Crane and Scarecrow are the same man but different mindsets), Jonathan is significantly less handsy with his partner and more reserved. Being threatening simply doesn’t correlate to being doting, though it doesn’t mean we won’t take care of you. After all, it’s hard to stay fully in character when you’re with him. Surely, many would assume you’re not spoken for as a result.

If he’s jealous, he’ll keep you under scrutiny. It’s not that he’d believe you’d be unfaithful, however.

He wouldn’t want you to leave his side, and as Jonathan, he’s more emotionally vulnerable and communicative with this. It just depends on the situation since he’d like to imagine, despite his flaws that he’s very comfortable and secure in his relationship.

If someone’s bothering you, he can take care of it, though he doesn’t doubt your ability to do it yourself. He might either get said person isolated or just take you away from the situation alltogether. He’d rather not scrap with another right now. (He’s very easily intimadated).

Maybe he’s a bit more touchy afterwards. A hand on your shoulder as he guides you or his hands fixing your hair. He wants to be closer, and finds that it works doing it subtly without indicating his insecurities. He doesn’t need verbal reassurance. You recriprocating affection is enough for him.

[lonleydweller]

Hi Dwell! Is it ok if I call you that? (Please let me know)

I'm the anon who requested brittle bones darling with scarecrow and riddler

(Which was amazing as I've mentioned before ♥️)

and I was wondering....

Could you write yandere platonic scarecrow and riddler (again..sorry 😅) with a teenager that they want to make their protégé / and or heir to their work/ villain persona?

Like maby they knew the teen in the past?

(PLEASE Take your time. Remember to stay hydrated and well fed and take breaks regularly your writing is improving so much! Your one of my favourite blogs ♥️♥️)

🥀Platonic Yandere Arkham Knight Riddler and Scarecrow with a teen protégé🥀

Of course!! Also don't be afraid to give yourself a proper anon name if you want! Assuming by your wording as well that this most likely a kid they snatched off the streets or someone else in this case! And don't worry, I'm probably overhydrated than anything else.

!Warnings!: this content contains, toxic family dynamic, platonic yandere trope, alluded kidnapping, controlling behavior, emotional manipulation, emotional abuse, gaslighting.

Yanderes are OK in fiction. They should stay fiction. They are not example of healthy relationships. These behaviors are NOT okay in real life. This is for entertainment purposes

-----------------------------------------------------

Riddler

●Welp hope you enjoy being trapped in a bunker full of strewn about scrap metal, machinery, robots, and random shit. An absolute mess. It's a surprise he can even meet your basic needs. Your room is most likely a small extra storage closet he emptied out. It's decent, probably the only clean part of the base, granted you're the only one who uses or maintains it. However you barely get privacy.

●He'll force you to be beside him for a good chunk of the day, berating you and lecturing you about topics you barely understand. Forcing you to help a bit with schemes. You'll need the experience after all if you are to take after him aren't you? Maybe if you do something right he'll give you some fatherly praise and encouragement. Otherwise don't expect much from him.

●Correction. You are going to take after him. There is no if. He fully expects you to do so and will drill it into your head. If you have any dreams, any aspirations, any careers you want, he'll shoot them down. Get that nonsense out of your head. No doubt you two get into shouting matches about this topic and the fact he's not your real dad.

●You're allowed very few personal items. A notebook, pencil, puzzles, rubix cubes, crosswords. Things that he believe will help challenge your brain. Maybe if you're lucky he'll gift you something you actually want. No electronics however. Under any circumstance. Nothing that allows you to communicate with the outside world. He isn't a fool.

●Oh, yeah, and he dosen't allow you outside. At all. He says it's for your own good. Which is debatable. All of this is. You should be grateful he didn't leave you on the streets where your brain would inevitably melt from the stupidity! Not to mention the various thugs, criminals, the bat, and other rouges that are just waiting to snacth you up. Really it's safer with him.

●He will absolutely look through your notebook, journal, or any personal belongings while you sleep. Looking around your room to make sure you aren't hiding anything.

●He has many precautions to make sure you can't go sneaking out and running away. Him keeping an extremely close eye on you isn't enough. His robots are stationed at almost every door, roaming around, camreas placed just outside the base, throughout the city, and more than likely a tracker on something you own. Say maybe a pair of shoes or a shirt.

●Overall you're stuck with a controlling, brash, overprotective, overbearing narcissist as a barely father figure.

-----------------------------------------------------

-----------------------------------------------------

Scarecrow

●With Dr.Crane at least you get a proper decent room, and a home that's not full of tripping hazard. It's actually somewhat barren. Your needs are met all the same, but don't be mistaken, you're still surrounded by manipulation and villainy.

●He'll let you have more freetime compared to Edward. He'll show you bits of his work here and there. He wants to try and get you interested on your own accord, but he'll give you a nudge if need be. The more your young minds curiosity is peaked, the more he'll teach you about his toxins and work.

●It may seems nice, but of course it's only manipulation. After all if he forced you to do it, you'd resent him, resent his work. Once he was gone, you'd just move on as an adult. If he gets you interested at a young age, ignite the passion for fear in you and engrain it, you'd be more willing to carry on his legacy wouldn't you?

●You're mainly gifted books, art supplies, or other things if you request them and he's deemed you've earned them. However he's strict on electronics as well. Maybe if you prove you aren't going to run away or snicth on him anytime soon he'll give you a phone or laptop. It won't be able to connect to the internet and will be heavily monitored.

●He won't let you outside too much either. Unless you're monitored by him or his men. Even then you won't go far from his domain. He fears Batman or another member of the Rouges Gallery might snacth you up if they realize your association with him.

●He won't really root through your personal belongings unless he feels there a sudden shift in your behavior or some cause for concern. He trusts he's manipulated treated you fairly well enough to where you aren't scheming behind his back.

●He still has security in place. It's Gotham city, many things can go awry. Camreas here and there, thugs, maybe a tracking device if need be. If it really calls for it he'll get the help of the Arkham Knight and his army.

●He'll hides his manipulation under a calm, reasonable, and collected demeanor.

-----------------------------------------------------

[riddle-me-ri]

a/n: Happy Halloween friendos!! I wasn't sure I was going to be able to whip this up in time cause I had work and to get ready for my sister's Halloween party BUT I was able to do a small little something something for y'all!! Sorry if this has way more mistakes than usual and if it seems rushed…it’s because it is lmao I hope you guys enjoy it!! Have fun, watch some spooky movies, gotcha some goodies just please stay safe 💚🧡

Word Count: 933

Content Warning: subtle mentions of masturbation, voyeurism, and mentions of stalking.

General Scarecrow x Reader - Watching You

You smiled contently at the small group of children as you waved them good-bye off your doorstep. 

You stretched your limbs, your sweater's neckline sliding off, exposing your shoulder a little. You took a glance at your phone and realized it was probably time to call it a night. 

You closed the door and locked it and began your nightly routine. 

Meanwhile your mind drifted off to your colleague Jonathan. You couldn't help but ponder what he was up to, after all this was his holiday. 

You hoped he liked the card you slipped into his mailbox in the university's office. 

It was cheesy and dumb, but you saw the scarecrow on the front and couldn't resist…

~~~

Jonathan knew he shouldn't be here…he should leave you be, you've been nothing but kind to him and what does he give you in return?

Countless nights watching you live your life without a care in the world outside your window…

He couldn't help it. He adored you. 

Occasional small talk in the break room or catching up in the halls just wasn't enough. 

Jonathan wasn't nearly confident enough to genuinely approach you for an encounter outside the university…he felt this was the only option he had to learn more about you. 

Almost like you were one of his experiments…but instead of observing and taking note of your reactions to his fear toxin and what your greatest fears…he wanted to know the opposite. 

He wanted to know what pleased you. 

He wanted to know what your favorite meals were, what you did on a lazy afternoon, what books you read…

When you take baths or showers…when you stay up a little later than usual to sexually gratify yourself.

Then for him to notice how relaxed you are the next day at work, likely as a result of your nightly activity.

Here he thought you were so pure and innocent…he wonders if you think the same of him despite him actively stalking you.

Jonathan shook his head…he shouldn't be here. He shouldn't know these things, but he can't help but feel his curiosity being satiated every night learning even the tiniest new information about you. 

Like tonight, he took note of how you celebrated the holiday of Halloween, tonight anyway. He wondered if you'd go to a party if you were invited and if the night wasn't a work night. 

For tonight however he noticed that you stayed up longer than you normally did and you enjoyed a random horror movie marathon on the TV. 

The hair on the back of Jonathan's neck stood at attention as he noticed you leisurely entered your bedroom.

He gasped softly. 

You began lazily removing your clothes, almost as if you were teasing him with how slowly you revealed expanses of your skin. 

Jonathan gripped the windowsill, longing for it to be your skin instead. 

He bit his lip, he really shouldn't be here…

You also really shouldn't undress with your curtains cracked slightly. He’d be enraged if anyone else decided to take advantage of seeing you in this state.

However the moment of seeing your skin on display was cut short as you grabbed a large oversized shirt and slipped it on over your form. 

Perhaps tonight wasn’t going to be one of those nights.  

He noticed you grabbed your phone as you plopped down onto your bed. You began tapping away on the screen.

Jonathan almost jumped out of his skin when he felt his phone slightly vibrate–he thought he forgot it at home like he was supposed to. 

It was a text from you;

“Happy Halloween, Jonathan! I hope you liked the card…I know it was cheesy but…it made me think of you ^-^ I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night and I hope you had atleast some fun tonight! ”

Ah, yes…the card. For a second he almost had a heart attack thinking you knew of his…other alias, but he knew that wasn’t possible and that you were merely trying to comfort him into the moniker that was given to him from other staff and students. 

Jonathan took a peek at the time. It was ten minutes passed ten p.m. It wouldn’t be out of the question if he didn’t respond right away. He never truly was apt in the etiquette of text messaging, albeit he tried. It was easier to approach than face to face communication after all.

He quickly shoved the phone back inside and glanced back through the window. He was almost ready to depart, seeing as you were likely heading to bed. 

Until he saw you swiftly remove the blanket from on top of your form. You slowly pulled back the edge of your over-sized tee. 

Jonathan found himself clenching the windowsill again an almost pathetic, needy whimper seeped from between his lips as he tried to get closer to you. Sometimes he could swear that he can hear the soft pants and moans you drive yourself to make. 

It wasn’t long until he felt a suffocating pressure in his crotch. His cock aching for friction and release…

He looked around to make sure he was properly secluded from the remaining teens that were still running around and the families slowly walking home. 

It was a huge risk…

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t do this. 

All those other instances…he waiting until he got home or he came undone without even unzipping his pants.

There was no telling when he’d ever share a moment like this with you again…

He can already see it now. Tomorrow morning you both would be sleepy, but somewhat more at ease and blissful. You wouldn’t have the faintest idea why he was that way, but he would know for the both of you. 

Jonathan couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of your message as he gripped the base of his cock. 

“I hope you had atleast some fun tonight!”

He would have some fun tonight, indeed.

[verdemoun]

BOO!!! Did I scare you? What's Halloween like in timewarp au? What's the gangs first experiences with it, and do others help the ones experiencing it for the first time navigate the holidays? Also sorry for being the insane Micah bell fan in your asks but does Micah get a Scrooge moment for each Holiday

yes you terrified me silly

Bessie is so careful to explain Halloween because children in costume approaching house full of gang of outlaws that are used to shooting people who come on their camp 'territory' on sight is a recipe for a goddamned disaster. Like sit down conversation breaking down the concept and answering all their questions and begging them not to eat all the candy because it's socially acceptable to egg the houses of people who do not provide candy and various other tricks.

The 1899 gang are all together for their first Halloween and do end up loving it. Lenny forces Sean and Jenny to dress up in matching Dorothy, tinman and scarecrow costumes and go out clubbing. Hosea and Bessie go out for a fancy Halloween dinner party dressed to the nines like 19th century aristocracy.

Arthur gets to take Isaac trick or treating just wearing his actual timewarped clothes complete with replacement gunslinger hat (rip he never gets His hat back).

Kieran contently watches horror movies alone snickering to himself about how fake the effects look only to still scream in terror and need to be talked through a panic attack when Bessie and Hosea got home.

--

The whole gang come around to the idea of Halloween, only because 90% of them see it as a chance to wear their pre-timewarp clothes and get drunk.

John dresses as a pinkerton one year because Abigail Jr insisted on dressing up as her daddy the rancher and wearing John's timewarp clothes. His justification was it was the scariest thing he could think of, which still did not save him from nearly getting his nose broken when he went up behind Arthur and shouted 'this is the pinkerton detective agency!'.

At Abigail Jr's insistence Abigail is almost always dressed as some variation of princess goddess fairy queen angel. She then blank stared at John and said he had to be dressed as the frog prince but still as an ugly frog no one knows is a prince. She wanted to dress as a witch.

They usually do some sort of get together for Halloween, because there's something really innocent and fun (read: cathartically traumatizing) about being able to see each other in their canon era clothing. Of course, some still insist on dressing up but that's just as fun.

With the additions of Karen and their daughter Maeve, the MacSummers quartet+child finally complete Lenny's vision of a full wizard of oz group costume. Before anyone could poke fun of them for making Maeve dress as Toto they realized she absolutely insisted on dressing as Toto as an excuse to bite people. Sean is very proud of her. Karen also insists on being a sexy cowardly lion.

Arthur and Charles going on modern era dates in their canon era clothes making up for all the time they didn't get to have being in a relationship in canon era. Big scary outlaws having milkshakes at a 24 hour diner.

Between Abigail Jr being a witch and Maeve being Toto no one was save from bitten or whacked with a magic wand as Abigail Jr cursed them.

Micah in the club in outlaw garb getting offended when he boasts his costume is the famed gunslinger Micah Bell III only to be met with blank stares and 'who??'.

Isaac and Jack, who of course dressed as the fabulous killjoys, also go hang out with Isaac's gang and will absolutely be arrested for graffiti and trespass that is escalated to destruction of property when it is discovered they mixed sugar into the still-wet concrete slab of a commercial site being built on what should have been protected land.

At least once someone dressed as an O'Driscoll. Fuck it it was probably Micah and Sadie almost sent him to the next life before she realized it was Micah and was still contemplating using it as an excuse to kill Micah when Kieran, to everyone's surprise and slight pride, absolutely walloped him with a two by four and Micah spent the rest of Halloween in emergency with a concussion.

[finniestoncrane]

Hey! I'm sorry I'm late with the whole anon stuff, but I just wanted to hop on the train and say that you really shouldn't listen to the rubbish that they're spewing. That's all it is, rubbish. You have a large community that absolutely adores your content and how you write characters (myself included - seriously, I freaking love your Riddlers and Scarecrows), so as long as you remember that - and that your mental health comes first - then they're powerless.

You're spreading positivity and those idiots are spreading negativity. They're clearly the ones in the wrong.

Keep being you, because that's who your community loves.

PS: Could we hear more about your OC?? I absolutely adore their design and the art I've seen for them!

thank you!! i have no way of expressing how much it means to me to be surrounded by other kind people and pleasant messages every day on here ;-;

even just one person who is nice outweighs three people who are horrible, it's easier to say that than to feel it, but i know that's true u-u 💚💚💚 ALSO YES PLEASE i love talking about my ocs, i assume you mean connie? (or maybe morrigan...) but i'll bung them in below the read more!!

connie is my self-insert who is braver and cuter than me lol she's in her angst era right now, i'm thinking of writing a lot of will they won't they but probably they won't stuff for her and eddie because i am feeling things about him not wanting to commit to a) anyone, b) a weirdo who offers him no social clout, and c) a fat girl given the way he sometimes speaks about oswald so yeah it'll be neat to explore that >:3

i was adapting her for a fallout au but i made a new oc instead, so connie can live safely in her non irradiated (but still terrible) home with eddie for now lol

i also need to flesh out more about her little dog i gave her, who is called bingly and who she found in the sewers (i think he'd look like the below puppies!!)

i gotta get back to morrigan too, i wanted to write about her and jonathan's relationship since she's his favourite student (and since she's the only mature student in her class he's the only one who she feels she can talk to) but i got distracted by ghouls HOWEVER since the new design for arkham scarecrow looks a lot like my jonathan, i think once i've watched the gameplay i'll be ready to give morrigan her horrible ever after with her beloved professor crane >:3c

[wintrcaptn]

Wish I Loved You In The Nineties | Ch. 2

Joel Miller x Reader

Summary : right person, wrong time. But maybe you can change Joel’s mind.

A/N: It’s a slow burn with angst. Sorry. But I promise when it gets spicy…it’ll be worth it!! Lol I hope you guys enjoy! Would appreciate any feedback!

3.1k words

Chapter 1

Warning : age gap (reader is of age!), cursing, angst,

The next morning had been quiet for the most part. Joel made coffee per usual, and left the mug next to my sleeping bag for me to wake up to.

Even when he was pissed off, he always made sure I woke up in a good mood.

After last night, I definitely needed some coffee. I tossed and turned all night, not able to shut my thoughts off from the kiss.

It wasn’t making any sense. Joel was the one person who knew how to get under my skin. Even though I trust him completely, I never saw him in that way. Or at least I didn’t think I did.

But if that was true…how would that kiss hold so much power over me?

I must’ve had these feelings for him without realizing, right?

I sat in the truck, sipping on my coffee, with my feet up on the dashboard trying to think back at all the significant times I had with Joel.

There must have been a moment when things changed. But when?

———

(Flash back 3 months prior)

“Do you ever smile?” I asked, sitting across from him as I ate, book in my lap. Tonight I was reading Pride and Prejudice for the hundredth time.

Joel leaned against a tree stump, his arms crossed over his chest, eyes closed. “No.” He groaned.

“Allergic to all things happy?” I teased.

His eyes shot open and glared at me. Eye brows furrowing, showing disdain in his features.

“Can I ask you something serious?” I asked.

Joel didn’t budge. He definitely didn’t stop glaring at me to show how uninterested he was in anything I had to say.

“Why did the scarecrow win an award?”

He let out a sigh and closed his eyes once again. Relaxing against the tree. “Because he was outstanding in his field.”

My eyes widened and I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You do have a sense of humor!” You exclaimed.

“Shut up.” He groaned.

Just as you were gonna look away, you noticed the small smile forming on his lips. For some reason, it made you feel good to know that deep down he did like you. Maybe not like you in a sense that he’ll be your best friend, but he likes your company enough to keep you around. And for now, that was enough.

————

(Now)

I looked at him from the corner of my eyes, feeling a bit awkward from the silence but also content having him there with me.

Joel focused his attention on the road. He had one hand on the steering wheel while the other held his travel mug. He’d take sips from time to time but not once did her ever look back at me.

It was hard to read him. And it was killing me. I just needed to know he didn’t hate me or regret the kiss because I sure as hell didn’t. I wanted more. I wanted him.

And that’s when it hit me…there wasn’t really a significant moment that made me want him…

It was the little things he did. The way he made me feel safe. The way he made me laugh with his sarcasm, which I knew he was just using to keep me at a distance.

For all the little moments spent together, the pot of coffee he made for us every morning, the reassurance of making sure I was okay. The little random books he’d bring back if he went out on his own or any extra pens he’d find.

He may have been harsh most times. May mask his emotions with anger and annoyance, but as I sat here I realized Joel had shown me he was someone I could trust in the ways he took care of me. Protected me.

“Did you hear me?” His voice caught my attention, forcing me out of my thoughts.

“Sorry what?” I cleared my throat.

“I need the map.” He muttered. “Never mind”

He pulled off to the side of the road and leaned over me to retrieve the map from the glove box. His scent grew stronger as he got closer, making my stomach flutter. And my legs clench together.

“Tryna see how much longer we got til we hit Wyoming.” He mumbled. “Still got eight more hours.”

He folded the map on his lap, and glanced outside for a moment. His silence made me nervous. Sure, joel wasn’t talkative to begin with but this was different. And it was eating me alive.

“Joel—“

“Suns goin down, maybe we should set up camp somewhere close. Then leave in the mornin.” He cut me off.

In that moment, Joel put the truck in drive and drove deeper into the woods, away from the road.

My heart was pounding profusely sitting there in such close proximity. I had wanted things to go back to how it was before but there was too much tension. It was hard to even breathe.

“Joel…we should talk.”

“Ain’t nothing to talk about.” He said, not once looking at me.

“So I’m just suppose to pretend that kiss never happened?”

He shrugged. “Already forgotten.”

Suddenly, my heart shattered from just those two words that hung in the air making it unbearable to breathe. My chest tightened and tears began to well in my eyes.

“I wish I never met you.” I whispered, turning my gaze out to the passenger window, letting the tears roll down my cheeks.

————

(Joel’s POV)

“I wish I never met you.” Her words were soft spoken but her voice quivered.

I knew that I had hurt her. Hell, I felt the same pain the moment I said it.

But I know I need to distance myself. I have to. Ever since I met her, I knew she was someone special.

She took her free time to read. She held on to hope and the idea of love so much that she never let this world get to her. Not even when those fucking assholes tried to take advantage of her and could have possibly killed her. If I didn’t—

She was gentle, and caring, and deserves more than anything I could ever give her.

Not only was I twice her age, my hands weren’t clean. I’ve killed people. A lot of them. Some who were probably just as innocent as her and—

I swallowed hard, and tightened my grip around the steering wheel, forcing myself to shake the thoughts.

Even if I were to change, I’ll forever be haunted by these memories.

Pulling up to a clearing. I parked the truck and quickly climbed out, letting the fresh cool air hit against my face. I finally let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.

“I’ll keep watch tonight.” Her voice said, pulling me back to reality.

“Nah, that’s alright. You get some sleep—“

“I did last night.” She cut me off. “Now it’s your turn.”

“Look, I got helluva shot compared to ya. If someone were to sneak up on us, I have a better chance at protecting us over you.”

“And if you don’t ever sleep, we are as good as dead.”

She had a point. It’s been a few days since I really slept, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tired. But the thought of her awake all alone in these woods, while I was passed out…it didn’t sit right with me.

“No. I’ll be fine.” I stated.

Her face scrunched into a disgusted look and she rolled her eyes. “You’re so damn stubborn.”

“And you’re not?”

She grabbed her book from her bag and her sleeping bag and set it up in the back of the truck bed.

“Guess we will both keep watch tonight. I’ve had enough coffee to get me through the night.” She said, climbing up onto the truck. “Not like I can sleep anyways.”

“Do you ever listen? I said I will keep watch.”

“And I said no.”

We stared at one another, not once breaking contact for what seemed like an eternity. She had furrowed brows and her jaw clenched tightly. Almost a mirror of what I look like 24hours a day.

This wasn’t like her, and it definitely wasn’t something I was used to.

Sure she was someone who did what she wanted most of the time, but when I told her to do something like sleep, she’d do it without any fuss. And now she wants to fight back?

“Fine. Just don’t bother me. You stay there, and read your little book.” I walked over to the other side away from her but still in view. “And I’ll stay here. Got it?”

She only nodded and slumped down into her sleeping bag as she opened her book.

I sat up against a tree, my rifle right beside me as I watched around, making sure no one shows up.

A small lamp sat by her, illuminating her face just enough for me to see. Her gaze stayed glued on her book as she absentmindedly nibbled on her bottom lip. Something she did quite often.

Since the day I lost Sarah, I had no issues pushing people away. Hell, I even pushed Tommy away at some point.

I didn’t care to let anyone in cuz I didn’t want to feel anything but the anger I had since she died.

Then she came in to my life and suddenly, it took every ounce of energy to push her away. To keep my walls up. It was exhausting.

As I sat there, watching her carefully…studying her features like I were never to see her again.

It was hard to deny at times like these when the world was quiet and it was just us two under the same moon, the same stars…it was hard to deny how I felt about her.

No matter how hard I fought myself over it…or how many times I denied it…I couldn’t escape the truth.

She was in everything and all things in between. She took up every space in my head, every time I closed my eyes, I saw her.

“I can feel your eyes on me.”

———

(Your pov)

I sat here, snuggled in my sleeping bag, trying hard to focus on my book in my lap. But it was useless. All I could think about was Joel.

Think about the way his lips felt against mine. The way his hands pulled me in closer against him. How much I wish I could go back to that moment in time.

My body grew hot from just the thoughts of him. It felt like I was being watched, at first I expected it to be all in my head but then I glanced up over at Joel across from me and noticed his stare.

“I can feel your eyes on me.” I said, shutting my book. “What’s your problem?”

Joel furrowed his brows and sighed. “Nothin, just read your damn book.”

“No.” I said feeling anger wash over me.

I know I wasn’t one to confront someone when I was upset, I usually shut down and hold things in but right now…I just couldn’t.

I got up and climbed off of the truck, making my way over to him. He propped up to his feet, obviously annoyed that I wouldn’t drop it.

But I didn’t care. I stood in front of him, my head tilting up too meet his gaze.

“Did you really forget about our kiss?” I asked, feeling a lump form in my throat.

“I ain’t doin this with you. Just leave it alone.”

“I can’t! Joel, I can’t.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose and turned away from me. He mumbled something under his breath before turning back around to face me.

“I told you it was a bad idea. I told you not to mix your weird fantasies with me.” He said, voice mixed with anger and exhaustion. “I kissed you cuz you wouldn’t shut up bout it.”

Tears began to well and without a warning, they stained my cheeks.

“Why are you such an asshole?!”

“Why you such a brat?” He yelled back. “You never know when to stop. When to shut up. You just push and push and push. You’re nothing but a pain in my ass!”

I stopped for a moment, taking in his words. My eye brow twitched up and I couldn’t believe this was how he felt. After all this time, I thought he was slowly opening up to me but I was wrong. He really did hate me.

“Well, you don’t ever have to worry about me annoying you any longer.” I said, as I turned on my heels to pack my things.

I felt like I couldn’t breathe, like he had just knocked all the wind out of me. But I didn’t want him to see me weak. I didn’t want him to see that he truly hurt me.

“What’s that suppose to mean?” He asked following behind.

“I’ll grab my things and be out of your hair in no time.” I said.

“Where you gonna go? We are in the middle of nowhere.”

I just ignored him as I continued shoving my sleeping bag into the bag and my book back into the bag.

“Look, it’s late. Let’s just sleep it off and come dawn you can leave.” Joel muttered, shoving his hands deep into his front pockets.

“Why wait?” I threw my bags over my shoulders and slammed the truck door shut before turning to face him one last time. “Thanks for saving me that day. Sorry for sticking around, I just didn’t want to be alone.”

With that, I start toward the dark trees behind him. My heart pounded so fast, I could hear it in my ears but no matter how scared I was, I knew I couldn’t stay anymore. The more I looked at him the more I wanted him but he didn’t want me.

“Don’t be stupid! Get back here!” His voice was loud, and demanding. But that didn’t stop me from walking away.

“You don’t know what’s out there.”

“Guess I’ll find out.” I said.

————

(Joel’s POV)

As the tension met its breaking point, I could feel myself grow frustrated by the second. She refused to listen like always, the sound of her steps grew fainter with each one feeling like a blow to my chest.

I balled my hands into fists, my knuckles turning white. “I ain’t gonna tell ya again.” My voice grew louder.

My feet had a mind of its own, stomping towards her. I didn’t care how stupid I looked right now. Fighting with the girl who I pushed away.

It didn’t take me long to reach her, but I didn’t hesitate to stop her. I grabbed her wrist and forced her to fall back into me.

“Let me go!” She demanded. But. I didn’t say a word. Instead I just stared at her with anger fueling me.

My jaw hurt from clenching is so tight, my nose flared as I scrunched my brows together. I was pissed. Beyond pissed. But I had no right and I knew I didn’t.

How did I even get here? When did I let things get this far? She was nothing to me just a little over a year ago. She has been nothing but a god damn nuisance since she came around and now I’m standing here wishing I could kiss her again. To pull her into me so close that I could feel her heart beat against me.

“Joel, you’re hurting me. Let, me go!”

I let go of her wrist, and grabbed her chin. Making her look up at me, fighting myself from kissing her. “Then fuckin listen to me.”

“Why should I?! You’ve been telling me to leave for months and now that I’m actually trying to leave, you won’t let me!” Her voice shook.

I finally released my grip I had on her. “It’s late, we are close to Wyoming. Tomorrow we will drive straight there and then we will go our separate ways.” I said. “You ain’t leavin here alone. I’m not gonna let something happen to you just because you dont know how to listen.”

“But—“

“Don’t cut me off.” My eyes were locked on to hers. The most I looked at her the more I realized just how screwed I was. She was seeping in between the crevices, she was getting to me. “Get your ass back to the camp site. Read your damn book and you do what I say when I say it…got it?”

I could see her take in every word before she nods in agreement.

“Repeat it.”

Before she opened her mouth, she quickly licked her lips. God, what I would do to taste those lips again. To feel them against mine, or wrapped around my—

“Do what you say.”

“Atta, girl.”

————

(Your POV)

My heart was pounding profusely, and so many different emotions washed over me.

I hated when Joel tried to control me. Hated when he talked down to me. But at the same time…I couldn’t help but yearn for more of it.

I’d be lying to myself if I said I didn’t think it was hot, but I had to try and shake the thoughts out of my head.

“Just so we’re clear, I’m only staying cuz I’m too tired to fight off clickers alone.” I lied. If I were being honest with myself, I really didn’t want to leave Joel in the first place. Being with him felt so right.

“Sure.” Was his only response.

He made me sit in the truck and he locked us in together.

The windows fogged from our breaths and the cold air from outside.

The silence was loud between us and I hated it. Maybe he was right. If I would’ve just listened and not beg him to kiss me…there wouldn’t be so much tension.

But of course, I don’t know when to shut up and stop.

“Here take this.” Joel said, snapping me out of my thoughts.

He wiggled himself out of his jacket and placed it over me. “Maybe now you’ll stop shaking like a damn chihuahua.”

I looked down at his jacket over my body and a small smile formed on my lips. Pulling my legs up to curl into a ball, the scent lingering off of his jacket filled my nose…it made my stomach flutter.

If he really didn’t care about me like he says, he wouldn’t go out of his way to make sure I was taken care of…right?

“Thank you.” I whispered just barely loud enough for him to hear.

———

Tagging ;

@evyiione @joeldjarin @titabel

[communist-manifesto-daily]

The Communist Manifesto - Part 16

[ ◁ First | ◃Prev | Table of Contents | Next ▹ ]

It is well known how the monks wrote silly lives of Catholic Saints over the manuscripts on which the classical works of ancient heathendom had been written. The German literati reversed this process with the profane French literature. They wrote their philosophical nonsense beneath the French original. For instance, beneath the French criticism of the economic functions of money, they wrote “Alienation of Humanity”, and beneath the French criticism of the bourgeois state they wrote “Dethronement of the Category of the General”, and so forth.

The introduction of these philosophical phrases at the back of the French historical criticisms, they dubbed “Philosophy of Action”, “True Socialism”, “German Science of Socialism”, “Philosophical Foundation of Socialism”, and so on.

The French Socialist and Communist literature was thus completely emasculated. And, since it ceased in the hands of the German to express the struggle of one class with the other, he felt conscious of having overcome “French one-sidedness” and of representing, not true requirements, but the requirements of Truth; not the interests of the proletariat, but the interests of Human Nature, of Man in general, who belongs to no class, has no reality, who exists only in the misty realm of philosophical fantasy.

This German socialism, which took its schoolboy task so seriously and solemnly, and extolled its poor stock-in-trade in such a mountebank fashion, meanwhile gradually lost its pedantic innocence.

The fight of the Germans, and especially of the Prussian bourgeoisie, against feudal aristocracy and absolute monarchy, in other words, the liberal movement, became more earnest.

By this, the long-wished for opportunity was offered to “True” Socialism of confronting the political movement with the Socialist demands, of hurling the traditional anathemas against liberalism, against representative government, against bourgeois competition, bourgeois freedom of the press, bourgeois legislation, bourgeois liberty and equality, and of preaching to the masses that they had nothing to gain, and everything to lose, by this bourgeois movement. German Socialism forgot, in the nick of time, that the French criticism, whose silly echo it was, presupposed the existence of modern bourgeois society, with its corresponding economic conditions of existence, and the political constitution adapted thereto, the very things those attainment was the object of the pending struggle in Germany.

To the absolute governments, with their following of parsons, professors, country squires, and officials, it served as a welcome scarecrow against the threatening bourgeoisie.

It was a sweet finish, after the bitter pills of flogging and bullets, with which these same governments, just at that time, dosed the German working-class risings.

While this “True” Socialism thus served the government as a weapon for fighting the German bourgeoisie, it, at the same time, directly represented a reactionary interest, the interest of German Philistines. In Germany, the petty-bourgeois class, a relic of the sixteenth century, and since then constantly cropping up again under the various forms, is the real social basis of the existing state of things.

To preserve this class is to preserve the existing state of things in Germany. The industrial and political supremacy of the bourgeoisie threatens it with certain destruction – on the one hand, from the concentration of capital; on the other, from the rise of a revolutionary proletariat. “True” Socialism appeared to kill these two birds with one stone. It spread like an epidemic.

The robe of speculative cobwebs, embroidered with flowers of rhetoric, steeped in the dew of sickly sentiment, this transcendental robe in which the German Socialists wrapped their sorry “eternal truths”, all skin and bone, served to wonderfully increase the sale of their goods amongst such a public.

And on its part German Socialism recognised, more and more, its own calling as the bombastic representative of the petty-bourgeois Philistine.

It proclaimed the German nation to be the model nation, and the German petty Philistine to be the typical man. To every villainous meanness of this model man, it gave a hidden, higher, Socialistic interpretation, the exact contrary of its real character. It went to the extreme length of directly opposing the “brutally destructive” tendency of Communism, and of proclaiming its supreme and impartial contempt of all class struggles. With very few exceptions, all the so-called Socialist and Communist publications that now (1847) circulate in Germany belong to the domain of this foul and enervating literature.*

* The revolutionary storm of 1848 swept away this whole shabby tendency and cured its protagonists of the desire to dabble in socialism. The chief representative and classical type of this tendency is Mr Karl Gruen. [Note by Engels to the German edition of 1890.]

[ ◁ First | ◃Prev | Table of Contents | Next ▹ ]

[fervency-if]

ROs AND THE POTENTIAL ROs reaction to the age-old question... "Would you still love me if I was a worm?"

Aah, the question for the ages... I had replied to this question before, back when there were only The Physician, Aubrey, Vesa, and Narciso, tried to search for it, and...

...I don't know. I just thought it looked funny. Content-free for worm. But I did find it. In either case... From that certain post:

The Physician would giggle and say "worms are quite interesting creatures, aren't they? I do believe I would like you well enough."

Aubrey would raise an eyebrow and ask "what on earth are you talking about? Did you, per chance, have some liquor just now? Why didn't you tell me so; I would have loved to share a glass with you!"

Narciso would be quite amused, but reply in a very flat voice "I would never have gotten to know you in the first place if you were a worm." (And another thing: he does not like worms. He's squeamish.)

Vesa would laugh, poke the tip of the main character's nose, and say "of course I would!"

And the two other people from the Physician's path:

Roswhen would laugh and tell them that they would probably be an adorable worm. Oh, they very much prefer them as a human, but if? Yes, they would love them if they were a worm.

Elan would be a bit confused by the question, but it would make him chuckle, too. Why are they asking this? But he would love them. He would take good care of them and all. Yet... Please, don't transform into a worm if you can help it. It would feel awkward.

As for some upcoming ones and such, since you asked about potential love interests also:

Francesco would give them a smirk, a little bit open and pearly-teethed; "no. Of course I couldn't love a worm," before winking and taking the main character's hand, giving it a little kiss.

Bess would ask if it was a regular worm, or a more... human-like one. Human intelligence, and all that. Yes, she could love them if so, but she's very sorry to say that she wouldn't find her the least bit attractive anymore. How unfortunate.

Maryam would joke around, pretending to be shocked; "what are you trying to tell me? Have you been a worm all along? Or do you feel a worm-like transformation coming your way? This is worrisome!"

Bryars would sigh, shake his head, and put a hand upon his forehead in a most dramatic manner. "Ah! A worm? Will I, forever, be known as the lover of worms? Oh, so be it! I simply love you too much."

Lili would tell them that they would make sure to get themselves a garden with good soil, so their beloved worm could live well. Also, they would make themselves a scarecrow. Watch out for birds!

[caesariawritesstuff]

Ok I'm sorry but I have to do this! Is there anyway we could get a small continuation of that Scarecrow x Detective short story you wrote? Maybe how Ed would react to hearing that Jonathan did something to the Detective? Or just noticing her acting off afterward? If not that is 100% ok!

Precious Heart

Summary: After learning about Detective's conversation with Jonathan Crane, Edward isn't too happy, and makes an effort to confront Crane himself. Continuation of the short fic, Damaged Goods.

Content Warning: Angst & Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Minor spoilers for Cat & Mouse

Word Count: 3k

A/N: This fic is a continuation of Damaged Goods, and currently not canon to the official Cat&Mouse!Verse storyline.

Right about now, you could scream.

The sensation lingered in the back of your throat, building and building as you stormed down the hall from the morgue. Rage rushed through you as hot as dry lightning, sparking a fire deep in your belly – and a strange, lingering warmth between your legs.

Because here you were, suddenly turned on by Jonathan Crane.

Scowling, you threw a glance over your shoulder as you stopped in front of the elevator, glaring back down the hall. Bastard, you thought, a dozen curses ringing through your mind. How dare he put his hands on you? Slowly, you reached up, your fingers grazing across the question mark pendant dangling around your neck, resting at the delicate hollow of your throat. You could not believe the interaction that just happened, and you found yourself replaying it over and over again in your head, on repeat, a never-ending loop.

If there was one person in this damn precinct who had become an anomaly to you, it was Jonathan Crane. Never had you expected a man like him to be given a chance at reform as well, especially considering the fact that he’d caused so much chaos and destruction three years ago – but you supposed you could understand why City Council would want him to help on this case. Even you and Mack were completely and utterly stumped, out of your minds about who else in this damn city could be developing a horrifying toxin capable of melting people’s bodies from inside out. The thought sent a tremor of fear through you – and you cursed yourself under your breath again, at the very prospect of being afraid. Because deep down, you knew that’s exactly what Crane wanted you to be: scared. Fearful. Terrified. And you would not give him that satisfaction; you’d been through enough in the last few months, and you were not willing to let the Master of Fear get under your skin.

With a heavy sigh, you took the elevator back up the Homicide Divisions floor, but as the numbers ticked by as slow as ever, you caught a glimpse of your reflection on the wall: your wide eyes, flushed cheeks, the small pout to your lips. A strange sensation bubbled in your stomach, hot and writhing, causing an uncomfortable knot to form there. You had not expected the entire interaction with Crane to be…heated. Or for him to have such an effect on you, one you weren’t even sure you were even processing clearly. All you really knew was that that familiar pulsing of warmth throbbed in your clit, and it had been caused by a man who was, perhaps, one of the most terrifying people you’d ever met.

There had been something cold in his blue eyes, even though the right was damaged and milky, but the way he looked at you – studied you from head to toe as if you were a science experiment – wasn’t what bothered you. Neither did the white scars all across his skin, remnants of his reconstructed face, a stark change to the man who was hauled into the GCPD three years ago, completely out of his own mind on fear toxin. What bothered you was how easily he’d approached you, grasping at the pendant around your neck with care, asking you such blasé questions about your relationship with Edward. Questions even you had asked yourself over the last few months – because Crane was right. You did not know what a man like Edward Nigma had come to see you in, why he’d fallen for you, and Crane’s questions only furthered your own. But what you could not understand was why he cared so much to ask them – and why he seemed so content to believe you were ruined for anyone else, all because Edward had touched you, lied with you, had claimed you as his own. You were not ruined, and you would not let Jonathan Crane or anyone else think otherwise.

“Bastard,” you mumbled under your breath again as the doors opened and you stepped out, taking a quick glance around at the detectives and officers milling about. The room was buzzing with voices and chatter, phones ringing off the hook, you quickly made your way back to your desk, sitting down with a heavy sigh. You lowered your face into your hands, pain throbbing at your skull, spreading across your temples.

Shit. This wasn’t good – you should not let Crane be getting under your skin like this, or feel so…well, you weren’t sure what you were feeling right about now. Rage. Irritation. Annoyance. Pleasure.

Crap. The way he’d circled around you, a predator analyzing its prey, the way he’d grasped your pendant and stroked it at with his fingers – something about the entire movement caused your clit to ache. What was it about men like Edward Nigma and Jonathan Crane that had you feeling such utter draw to them? Maybe you were beginning to realize that you had a type.

And, as much as you couldn’t help it, you found your thoughts beginning to wander. What would it have been like if Crane had bent you over that morgue table and had his way with you, fucking you into oblivion, his hand wrapped your throat as his cold, raspy voice whispered dirty things into your ear?

“Shit,” you whispered, but just as the words escaped your lips, a mug of coffee was set beside you. You glanced up to find Edward standing there, his own mug of coffee in hand, and he smirked at you, eyes studying you with slow intention.

“Thanks,” you said, taking the mug, but a heartbeat of guilt passed through you. You were with Edward for God’s sake – why were you thinking about another man?

Edward’s eyes narrowed, as if he immediately could sense something was wrong, and his gaze roved over you, making the skin prickle on the back of your neck. “Is something wrong, detective?”

“No, nothing,” you said quickly, the lie heavy on your tongue – but by the way Edward’s brows furrowed, you knew he didn’t believe you. Of course he didn’t. Why was he so capable of reading you? You averted your gaze, quickly taking a sip of coffee, and burned your tongue.

Edward crossed his arms. “Come now, detective,” he sighed. “Tell me what’s happened.”

You looked up and around; Mack was gone from his desk, and everyone else was far too busy involved in their own cases to be bothering to listen to you. Sighing, you gestured for Edward to sit, and he took the empty chair at the desk beside you, waiting for you to continue.

“So…Jonathan Crane is…interesting,” you finally said, choosing your words carefully.

Edward quirked a brow, leaning back in his chair. “Did he say something to you?”

You were silent for a beat, but you knew there was no point in lying. “Well...I was down in the morgue when the power went out. We had an…interesting talk.”

“About?” Something cold laced Edward’s voice, curiosity in his tone.

“My relationship with you.”

Edward was quiet for a long moment, long enough that you could tell he was thinking through every possibility that such a conversation entailed. Finally, he sighed and asked, “And what did the good doctor say?”

“He…” You looked away, biting slightly on your bottom lip as you struggled to answer his question. The last thing you wanted to do was have Edward go storming down to the morgue and throwing a fit in a jealous huff.

Finally, you looked back at him. “He just wanted to know about us. You know, how long we’d been together. That kind of thing.”

Edward blinked. His face was like stone, a passive statue of emotionless. Finally, he smiled, his grin stretching from ear to ear. “Well, can you blame him? Why wouldn’t he be curious? After all, you’re with me – the smartest, most handsome man in Gotham. It’s only natural for him to be curious about a relationship which is so great that he cannot even comprehend.”

“So great, huh?” you asked, unable to fight the smile threatening to curve at your lips.

“Of course, my dear. You’re with me, remember?” His grin didn’t faulter, but he leaned forward slightly. “And I am the best partner, the best lover, you could ever ask for. No need to deny it, detective, we both know it’s the truth.”

You rolled your eyes, a small laugh bubbling out of your chest. Well, at least his ego was still intact – you did not think that was one thing that could ever be taken away from Edward. But as you turned back to your desk, content to pour over the case files, another heartbeat of regret pounded in your stomach, spreading like wildfire through your bloodstream – but there was something else, too, something raw and real and terrifying that you did not want to admit.

Because, deep down, you knew that Jonathan Crane was right.     

Edward had completely, and utterly ruined you.

?

If there was one thing Edward come to learn long ago, it was that Jonathan Crane was a very deliberate man. He did not ask questions without purpose, without trying to learn something about someone, without trying to find their weakness or exploits. The man was a manipulative bastard, but he supposed he could say the same about himself. Perhaps that’s why they got along so well over the years. While Edward had often found himself at odds with the likes of Penguin and Two-Face, it was Jonathan whom he retained the closest thing to a friendship.

So having him here at the GCPD was quite the surprise – one that had even Edward questioning Jonathan’s own motivations for why he would accept a similar deal from City Council. But so far, Edward had been far too busy with his own tasks to find a moment to slip down to the forensics lab and have a moment to speak alone with Jonathan – until now.

A knot of uncertainty bundled in Edward’s stomach. It had been clear that you’d been hiding something from him when retelling your conversation with Crane, but Edward hadn’t pressed further – he wanted to hear the details from Crane himself. Clearly, he’d must have asked something to get under your skin. Probably some silly thing about fear or terror or whatever else Jonathan found so interesting, but Edward hadn’t wanted to press you too hard on the matter, not when you’d looked so shaken up. So as he walked down the hall and slipped into the medical examiner’s office, he narrowed his eyes, immediately finding Crane sitting at counter, filled with vials in an array of colors, lab equipment organized neatly around him. Dr. Collins was gone, thankfully, allowing Edward the privacy he needed, and he stepped into the room.

Jonathan swiveled around in his chair, his mouth opening slightly as if to ask something, but he quickly shut it when he realized it was Edward standing there. His cold eyes were narrowed, stoic, not an inch of emotion written across his face.

“Crane,” Edward said, stepping further into the room.

“Ah, Edward,” Jonathan said, his voice gravelly, cold, a raspiness to it. “I was wondering when you’d honor me with your presence.”

Edward smirked, but wandered over with slow, calculated steps. “Oh, you know,” he said with a lazy wave of his hand. “The Commissioner just loves to keep me busy. I hardly get a moment to myself in this place.”

Jonathan turned back to his vials, humming under his breath. “It must pain someone with such intelligence like yourself to be reduced to working in a place like this.”

Edward shrugged, but leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, only a foot away from where Jonathan worked. “It has its perks,” he said, his thoughts straying to you. You were the only reason this place was bearable in any capacity.

Jonathan’s cold gaze slid to him once more. “Ah, yes. Your…paramour. I take it she told you about our conversation?”

A muscle feathered in Edward’s jaw, and he met Crane’s gaze. “No. But I’m here to hear it out of your own mouth, Crane. What exactly did you say to her?”

Jonathan shrugged in indifference, once more turning back to the chemicals at hand, making a few notes on a pad of paper. “I was simply curious to the nature of her relationship with you. I’ve never known you to take interest in such primal desires, Edward. What is it about her that fascinates you so?

Edward frowned. There were many, many things that fascinated him about you – the way you carried yourself, spoke, the fire that burned so brightly in your soul that refused to dim, considering all that happened over the last few months. The way you tolerated him, laughed at what he said, gave yourself to him so wholly and completely. The problem wasn’t the answer to the question – the problem was why Jonathan wanted to know.

“What does it matter to you, Crane?” Edward asked, his voice low, concerned. Because he knew when Crane became fascinated with something, fixated on it, he would not let it go.

And if he was becoming fascinated with you…

Jonathan turned back to him again. His scarred lips were pursed into a thin line, but he finally set his pen down and rested his hands on his knees, leaning slightly back in his chair. “I’m simply curious, is all, Edward.”

“She’s not some science experiment you can pick apart,” Edward said, his tone testing.

Jonathan blinked at him, as if what Edward said hadn’t phased him at all. “You care quite a bit for her, Edward,” he said finally after drawing out the silence for a long moment.

Edward shifted slightly, gritting his teeth. “And? Your point?”

“An observation. You and I both know she’s simply your newest obsession, Edward. What will happen when you tire of her?”

Edward’s eyes narrowed into slits, and he frowned, staring down at Crane as hot anger pooled in his stomach, prickling across his skin. Yes, he knew the truth: you were his obsession. The thing he needed, wanted, craved at all hours of the day. But he did not imagine he would ever tire of you. You were like a drug to him, his addiction. And the truth was that he had come to a point where he could not imagine the rest of his life without you in it.

“Or, perhaps, when she tires of you?” Jonathan continued.

“An absurd insinuation,” Edward said, a bite in his voice now. How could you ever tire of him? He was the World’s Greatest Everything. There was not a universe in which you could ever tire of him, Edward was sure of that.

“Come now, Edward,” he said. “No need to be so testy. However, I’ve heard the rumors. People around here like to talk. I know what they call her, what they think of her. When you do tire of her, when you’ve thoroughly ruined her for anyone else in this city to want – what will she do then?”

Edward bristled, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. “I don’t see why that’s any concern of yours, Crane,” he said, but his lips twisted in a smirk. “Why? Does it bother you that someone like her would be with someone like me?”

A flame ignited in Edward’s belly, a sick satisfaction twisting there. Of course Crane had to be jealous of his relationship with you. After all, Edward was just that much smarter, much more handsome, much more great. Crane could not compare to him one bit. Edward was everything and better – and he planned to hold that over the man’s head at every turn.

“Not at all,” Jonathan finally answered. “She is your paramour. You do what you like with her. All I intended was to get to know her, understand why a detective like her would with someone like you.”

Edward bristled at Jon’s words, crossing his arms tighter over his chest. “Well, Crane, my capacity for self-improvement has grown well beyond what you’re capable of. Watch and learn, and you’ll be just fine.” He smirked at that, a sense of triumph racing through his chest.

“Of course, Edward,” Jonathan said, his voice low and cold. “You are this city’s picture of reform. I will do my best to follow in your footsteps.”

Edward’s smirk grew. “Good. I need to get back to work. Have fun with your chemicals, Crane. Try not to sniff your own toxin too much.” He turned on his heels, giving Jonathan a lazy wave, and headed back down the hall with confidence in his step.

But as he walked, his steps began to slow, and uncertainty twisted in his stomach. Now that he was alone in the silence, Crane’s words began to wash over him. His mind was spinning with questions, wondering why Crane would bother talking to you in the first place – and just what else he might have said that you could be hiding from him. Well, he’d just have to keep a careful eye on Crane, then. Whatever was brewing in the man’s mind, Edward intended to find out. But if it involved you…

Edward’s hands curled into fists. Crane could find you fascinating all he liked, but he would not allow you to become an experiment in his twisted little world of fear. He refused to let that happen – and if Crane asked you one more question that was out of line, Edward would not hesitate to put Crane in his place. If Crane was planning to use his toxin on you, Edward would shove his own toxin in his mouth before he had that chance.

Oh, yes, Edward was certain of that.

Crane could have his fun in any other way that did not involve you. Because, Edward knew with absolute certainty, he would not allow another man to swoop in and take your attention from him. You were his, and his alone, and Crane would just have to accept that you were with a man like him. He could speculate and theorize all he wanted, but Edward would not allow Crane to get under your skin, to make you question your relationship with him. Not when he finally had you, when he held your heart in his hands.

And he would not allow Crane’s ability to incite fear poison your precious heart.

[oillydiya]

Things Between Us | Cillian Murphy x OC

Chapter 14 : Accepting the Truth

Warnings: The following content may be disturbing.

On Sunday in London,

it was a day for Sansa to clear out her workspace and return the area to the gallery representatives. It was another busy day that left her feeling dizzy with all the tasks at hand. But amidst the chaos, she found herself missing Cillian deeply!

After their argument on Friday night, Cillian had asked her to fly to New York with him. However, due to her commitments to clearing her exhibition space, she was unable to accompany him. The distance made her heart grow fonder, as it had been almost a month since Sansa and Cillian had a relationship. Driven by her longing for him, Sansa decided to surprise Cillian by flying to New York. She thought it would be good for their relationship.

After making up her mind, Sansa hurriedly cleared the space by Sunday night so she could catch a flight to New York first thing in the morning. The film promotion event that Cillian was attending would start on Monday evening. Given the seven to eight-hour flight from London to New York, she would arrive just in time for his promotional event.

‘It’s going to be such a surprise for him,’ Sansa thought happily about her plan.

Excited for their first date outside London, Sansa quickly booked her flight and finished her work that night.

On Monday,

Sansa arrived in New York around 4 pm. She hurried from the airport to the venue where Cillian’s film was being promoted, located in front of a cinema in Times Square. She and Cillian hadn’t spoken since he left for New York, so if he saw her at the event without knowing in advance, it would certainly surprise and delight him.

As she arrived at the event venue, Sansa noticed the red carpet laid out for the actors and crew for interviews and fan interactions. Cillian, in particular, seemed to have a large female fanbase eagerly waiting for him.

‘He really is popular,’ she mused.

Sansa had brought along a Scarecrow poster and a Batman Begins scarecrow mask for Cillian to sign, hoping to bring a smile to his face. As people began to fill the event more and more, Sansa was glad she arrived early to secure a good spot near the barriers set up for fans.

Fifteen minutes into the event, celebrities began to arrive. Sansa saw many celebrities but didn’t recognize most of them since she wasn’t a huge movie fan.

And then...the crowd’s screams intensified, painfully echoing in her ears. She looked around with her bright green eyes, following the noise. There was Cillian, looking great in a black suit, styled just how Sansa liked.

But suddenly, everything felt dark and heavy for Sansa. It was like her heart sank when she saw Cillian walking into the event with his wife. The excitement turned into a shock, as if a shadow had fallen over her happiness.

Frozen in shock, Sansa stood there long enough to feel as if her breath had been taken away. She believed Cillian saw her too, as he was interacting with fans not too far from her. Their eyes met, and they both froze, shocked by each other's presence.

Cillian hadn’t expected to see Sansa in New York, especially since she had declined his invitation to come together. His participation with his wife matched the film representative's desire to have actors accompanied by their family members, reflecting the movie's family themes.

In that moment, Cillian felt paralyzed, overwhelmed by guilt and a heart racing with panic upon seeing Sansa’s tear-filled Green eyes. He wanted to say ... sorry, They stared into each other’s souls, an unspoken sorrow hanging between them as Sansa’s tears falling down her cheeks, a river of pain that nothing could hold back.

‘This is so painful’ Sansa cursed inwardly. She had known their relationship might end someday, but she hadn’t expected it to be so soon, and she was utterly unprepared for this moment.

‘I need to wake up from this dream and accept reality’ Sansa told herself, deciding then and there to end everything. Dropping her scarecrow mask, she walked away from the event, leaving a piece of her heart behind.

"The happiness I received from him was temporary, but the pain and suffering will stay with me forever."

Thank you for reading!

[delopsia]

Not Rhett | Rhett x Bob x Reader

Word Count: 4,100 Cross Posted On AO3 Warnings & Notes: Brief mentions of food and alcohol, a nifty case of mistaken identity, and just a general elaboration of how the reader met Rhett and Bob. It's also a warmup that got out of hand. This is written to function as a stand-alone fic and as a prologue to Rhett_16 is typing... In other words, you don't need to read one to read the other!  

The fliers weren't kidding. 

This is the biggest Autumn Festival you've ever seen. 

A circus of sales booths and food trucks stretches for as far as the eye can see, curling to wrap around the rodeo grounds and beyond. Reaching right up to the border of the pumpkin patch, visible from the hay rides that cart visitors in and out of the tightly packed parking lots. Pumpkins, gourds, hay bales, corn, scarecrows, everywhere you look, you find them. You think you've seen two dozen booths dedicated to mums, and you haven't even been through half of this place.

Just like you haven't seen your friends ever since you split up. They wanted to stand in that long, winding apple cider line, and you really, truly, cannot handle waiting in an hour-long line for something that will take five minutes to drink. 

The world tilts sideways. Ground rising to smack you in the ass. 

"Shit, I'm sorry!" 

You don't recall closing your eyes, but as you pry them open, you almost wish you hadn't. Dear Lord, why is there a cowboy crouched in front of you? 

It's not until you notice your things scattered about the ground that you realize what's happened. The contents of your shopping bags are strewn about the dirt path, wallet lying neglected by your feet. This strange man is scooping them up as quickly as he can, but some people have no issue stepping on them as they walk past. 

"I—uh..." his head drops to look at the ground, but just as quickly, snaps back up, allowing you a chance to catch sight of the deep blue eyes hidden away by that cowboy hat, "c'n I get you an apology drink?"

You've never heard of an apology drink before, but something about the slight twang to his words has you muttering a soft yes. Even accepting his big, calloused hand to help you get up, despite the voice in the back of your head that warns against it. 

Two o'clock on a Monday afternoon is way too early to be following some strange cowboy to a tent bar for a drink, but here you are. Sitting on the far end of a fold-out plastic table, sipping on your drink of choice while this new acquaintance of yours settles down across from you. His legs are a bit too long to comfortably fit, knocking his knee against the cheap, white plastic and wincing as the entire table trembles. 

"I don't think I ever caught your name," you find yourself saying once you're sure the table isn't on the verge of collapse. 

"'m Rhett."

To no surprise at all, Rhett's one of the many bull riders on the lineup for tonight's rodeo. The flier you were handed when you first got here even has his name on the long, winding list of tonight's riders. As he explains it, the rodeo is for charity. Aside from a nifty belt buckle, you get nothing out of entering, but it's an amazing opportunity if you want to get your name out there. 

"I guess I'll be cheering you on from the stands tonight," you'll leave out the part that you weren't originally planning to stay for it at all, but he's made this event sound like so much fun that now you have to give it a shot.

The last thing you expect is for him to smile like a little kid on Christmas morning, eyes sparkling brighter than the smile that emerges from his once stoic face, "yeah?"

"Yeah," Your fingers drum against the material of your wallet, tiny sounds drowned out by the mayhem that is this oversized festival, "so long as your girlfriend isn't upset by it."

"Well, I ain't had one of those in a long time," hard to believe, considering he walks around looking like that on a daily basis, "so I reckon you should be safe on that front."

And just as the conversation starts getting good, you're interrupted by a man who introduces himself as Rhett's older brother. You don't hear his name; all you know is that he's got the worst timing of all time. You'd been so, so invested in Rhett's whirlwind of a story about how he got a DUI because he absolutely had to prove that he could start his truck with a screwdriver. He was mere seconds away from his grand reveal of how he got caught in that abandoned parking lot in the first place. 

"Perry, give me like two more minutes, alright?" But Rhett's plea falls on deaf ears because that sad husk of a man isn't budging on his stance.

Perry's not much of a man. Looks like he hasn't slept in weeks, and his arms seem to be permanently folded in front of his chest. "If you don't get over there early, you won't make it in at all, and this whole trip will be for nothing." 

He must be a lot of fun to be around.

Regardless, you suppose you should be heading out, too; your friends should have made it out of that line by now. "I suppose I'll see you at the rodeo, cowboy."

The corners of Rhett's eyes crinkle as he smiles, "I'll be lookin' for ya."

Do you remain seated just long enough to admire those broad shoulders straining against the thin material of his flannel? 

Yes.

Yes, you do.

That line is still a quarter-mile long, but you don't need more than a second glance to know that your friends are no longer in it. Long gone from the entire area, too, because even as you twist and turn, you can't find hide or hair of them. They're not in any of the places you expected them to be, not the food trucks or the barn stocked full of old ladies and their craft booths. 

You're passing the corn maze when your ears catch the whisper of a meek "excuse me" as feet skitter across the dirt path. It may have been a fifteen-minute meeting at most, but you already recognize that voice. 

"Rhett?"

...without his cowboy hat. 

And his hair is a hell of a lot shorter than it was a little bit ago. But that face is the same, and yet...

It's not? 

"I'm—I'm sorry, I'm not Rhett," there isn't a damn way this man isn't Rhett. He looks and sounds the exact fucking same, only Rhett certainly didn't have a pair of wire frames perched on his nose. The guy looks down at his hands and holds one out to you, "You left this on the bench."

Your wallet. 

"Oh." God, were you really that distracted by Rhett's backside that you forgot to grab your wallet? As you take it from this, Not Rhett guy, it seems to be in perfect shape, only a little warm from how long he's been holding it. "Thank you?"

His hand rises to scratch the side of his neck, "you're welcome." But his eyes had might as well be on the ground because they don't lift to look at you.

"Are you sure you're not Rhett?" Your mouth is moving on its own; this absolutely has to be the same guy. "Because I swear I just...spoke to you a few minutes ago."

Not Rhett shifts his weight, those eyes finally darting up. Blue as ice, but nowhere near as bold and free as Rhett's were. "I've never met a Rhett in my life if I'm being real honest with ya."

A voice carries across the festival grounds, familiar, carrying with it the familiar ring of your name. As you look over your shoulder, you find your friends scurrying toward you with their shopping bags and towering cups of steaming apple cider. 

When you look back, Not Rhett is walking away, disappearing into a group of people that you don't recognize. 

"You look like you've just escaped death itself," one of your friends says once she's within earshot, "what happened?"

"I think I've just met some creep who's pretending to be two different guys."

Through the rest of the evening and early into the night, your eyes are peeled. Every corner you come around, every cowboy hat you catch a glimpse of, you expect to see him. Whoever he is. A man who's changed his appearance just to return your wallet to you and pretends not to know a Rhett at all. 

A part of you wants to go back to the hotel early, like you'd planned, but a wayward what-if has you climbing up into the stadium and settling down next to your friends. Because if Rhett was telling the truth about being a bull-rider, then he'll have to make an appearance here. 

At least, you hope he was telling the truth.

Bronc riders are up first; there's a dizzyingly small amount of riders, too, especially when compared to the long list of bull riders. If their names were written individually on a scroll, then it would have rolled all the way across the stadium by now. Out of all of those names, there are maybe twenty different Rhetts, and those are just the ones you managed to count.

There's an uproar from the crowd that has you lifting your head, training your attention back on the rider clinging to the back of a horse who never has more than two feet on the ground at a time. A familiar face bounces across the big screen. 

So Not Rhett does have a name. 

"Robert Floyd," the name feels strange on your tongue, but that is absolutely the same guy who found and returned your wallet. 

He places fifth out of twenty-six total riders. Not too shabby, all things considered. But your question from before still stands strong; is Rhett real, or is he just this Bob guy? 

The first two Rhetts aren't him. One's bald, the other has shoulder-length blond hair so thick that you can't even see his face.

You've got your nose back down in the handout flier, recounting all the Rhetts appearing on the list, when a sharp elbow finds your side. A buzzer goes off so loud that it washes over the booming voice of the announcer.

But you don't need to hear what he's saying. 

Because that's him. Curls resting at the nape of his neck, bouncing with every motion of the raging bull beneath him; you've only barely gotten a glimpse of him before his eight seconds are up, but you need nothing more. As he picks himself up off the ground, he turns to face the roaring stadium, head swiveling as he searches for something. 

If it weren't for the big-screen broadcasting it in high definition, you almost wouldn't believe that he smiled the moment he spotted you.

And now the only problem you have; is the regret of not being able to find them when the rodeo is over. In such an oversized swarm of people, it's hard to even stay close to your friends; never mind, find a man who doesn't know you're looking for him in the first place. 

"Maybe you'll see him at the bar," one of your friends suggests on your way out to the car park; you can hardly recall there ever being a plan to go to a bar after this, but you find yourself humming in agreement anyway. 

What's the worst thing that can happen? You meet a third man who looks the exact fucking same? 

The bar your friends are dead-set on visiting...isn't much. Easily mistakable for an abandoned building, it's nothing more than four walls, a tin roof, and a cheap roadside sign with sideways lettering. If it weren't for the swarm of vehicles in the parking lot, you would have thought this place was a trap. But it's real, with music so loud that you can hear it as you walk across the gravel parking lot. 

Inside, you find yourself bathed in a vivid red light, so vivid and overpowering that it and the golden lighting behind the counter are the only colors you can see. Your friends practically vanish the moment you look away from them, stopping short to take in your crowded surroundings. By the time you lay eyes on them again, they're already on the other side of the room, getting drinks.

Goodie, another crowd to work your way through. 

You've just about had it with dodging between people and squeezing into gaps when they can't be fucked to take the two steps to let you past. Or, worse, the good-for-nothings who think you're looking for a conversation and will absolutely stop to have a chat if they give you a compliment or two.

"Damn," you're praying that isn't directed at you, but as you pass this guy with the non-existent eyebrows, he turns to keep facing you; you're the sun, and he's a planet caught in orbit, "I mean, damn."

Just keep walking, just keep walking, just keep—

Your feet tread backward as he inserts himself between you and your path; a nauseating musk follows him like a scorned ex, makes your nose wrinkle the second you pick up on it. 

"Aww, c'mon, I'm paying you a compliment!" The collar of his shirt tightens around his neck as he's yanked backward so hard that his feet come out from under him. Falling into a not-so-sober heap on the polished concrete floor. 

Maybe you'd hear what else he has to say if it weren't for a familiar face catching your eye. All muscle and long, dark curls that rest against the nape of his neck; if it weren't for the lights, you're sure you'd be drowning in the deep blue of his eyes by now.

"You have impeccable timing, cowboy," at your words, Rhett's scowl lightens into a smile.

"Saw you walk in," his voice is just deep enough to be audible over the thumping music, and you're drawn to it like a bear to honey. "I'm surprised you showed up at this hole in the wall, of all places." 

"Someone recommended it to my friends," you say, stepping past the mess of a man on the floor. "It's hard talking them out of something once they've made up their minds."

You don't know if it's reputation or his size, but the crowd parts like the Red Sea for Rhett; those broad shoulders don't bump into a damn thing as you follow him like a shadow. "Whoever told them that was a fuckin' moron."

"This place can't be that bad," as you step out of the crowd and into the empty space next to the bar counter, the noise level drops. So significant that your own voice feels too loud now.

Rhett's got a seat on the very end of the counter, kept occupied by a lone cowboy hat and a jacket so heavy that it looks like it could make winter feel like summer. It's still warm out, but just seeing it makes you wonder how cold it will get once the moon is high in the sky.

"Take a look around," Rhett lifts his hand, gesturing toward the general area around you, "'s a reason why most people here look fresh out the sewer."

And take a look around, you will, because this place didn't look that bad when you first walked in. Sure, the guy on your left could use a bath, and the gaggle of girls squeezing out from the crowd reek of 2000s fashion trends. Now that you think about it, those bouncers at the door did look a little more menacing than usual... 

The guy passing on your left comes to a hard stop. So sudden that his shoes squeal against the floor. Eyes wide, frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. 

"What the fuck," Rhett's words are the only confirmation you have that what you're seeing is real. Not a lone delusion you're having. 

Robert Floyd's gaze flickers over to you, then back to Rhett. "I see why you asked if I was Rhett, now."

Behind you, Rhett orders a double shot of tequila. 

The bar is far too loud for you to hear each other talk; Robert—sorry, Bob speaks far too softly to be heard over the music, and Rhett's voice carries so well that the Myspace girls start eavesdropping. It's cooling off outside, but the back of Rhett's truck is the perfect spot to continue your conversation. 

Out here, it's easier to tell the difference between them. Bob's a few shades paler and doesn't share the same scars that mottle Rhett's skin. Though they're both brunettes, but Rhett's darker locks make Bob look closer to blonde. 

"D'you at least ride horses on a farm?" Rhett presses, sipping his beer. 

But Bob just shakes his head, "We mostly use heavy machinery nowadays." Which may explain how he wound up one of the top Weapons Systems Officers in the Navy; if you grow up using farming equipment all your life, a plane can't be that big of a jump once you learn the controls, right? 

They're so strikingly similar, only varying in the fine details. Both come from families with generational land; one was a home birth on an isolated cattle ranch, and the other was born in a hospital and brought home to a well-known family farm. Rhett's a bull rider, Bob had bronc-riding as his backup plan, just in case the Navy didn't work out. 

Both wanted to fly the coop the moment they turned eighteen; Bob was handed that opportunity to escape on a silver platter; Rhett was roped up and tied down before he could spread his wings. Bob has had vision problems all his life; Rhett's got perfect clarity. They're so easily mistakable for each other, and yet, so, so different. 

And when you talk about the places you call home and your backstory, their attention is downright glued to you. Bob finds all the tiny details that somehow align with their stories, and Rhett's so fixated that he's got a million and one questions. 

"I'm sorry, but who the fuck, goes to Mcdonald's and orders four sausage, egg, and cheese biscuits?" Rhett's attempt at coming off as annoyed dissolves into a fit of giggles as Bob tries to elbow him, barely able to squirm away from the attempted assault. 

"Big words coming from the guy who just admitted to driving forty-five minutes for a singular bacon egg and cheese biscuit," the only thing stopping Bob from going after him is the lack of a lid on his water bottle. "You didn't even get a hashbrown with it!"

"I forgot they had those, alright?"

Much to your dismay, your friends head out at the same time as Bob's do, and Perry has been blowing up Rhett's cell for over an hour now. If it weren't for Bob's suggestion to exchange numbers, you're sure that you would have lost all contact with them after that night. 

But now you've found yourself staying up long past your usual bedtime, giggling at rambunctious text messages and bickering over static-filled phone calls. Rhett can't type to save his life and hardly tries to correct himself, leaving you and Bob to try and decipher what the hell he meant to say. But Bob can't complain because he's got a horrible habit of pocket-dialing the two of you. 

'Bob, can you ducking learn to lock your home when you put it in your picket?'

'I will, as soon as you learn to spell.'

'Duck you'

In the first month of knowing each other, they take multiple DNA tests. Sending off each one with the expectation that they share a common ancestor, something to explain their uncanny similarities. Every single one comes back with the same answer; they're not related. 

With Rhett's long hours at the ranch and the demand of Bob's Navy career, it's difficult to meet in person. Plans always seem to be falling through, whether it be an emergency requiring Bob to be shipped halfway across the country or a small tornado uplifting the fences keeping the cattle in. Something is always in the way. 

There's a spontaneous Friday where you all up and decide to meet because your weekends have opened up, end up spending two nights in a city you don't know the name of. Your next two attempts to meet don't pan out so well, leaving you to rely on Bob's next greatest idea.

"There, you two are," Bob all but beams at the sight of you, cozied up in your bed with your laptop resting on the opposite pillow. Rhett's saying something, too; you can see his mouth moving, but not a sound carries over. You don't realize what the problem is until Bob audibly sighs, "Rhett, your microphone is muted again."

Rhett's mouth moves, and even though you can't hear it, you already know that he's quietly muttered a soft 'what the fuck,' as he reaches for the laptop touchpad. "Whoops." 

How long you stay up, all depends on scheduling and luck. 

Some nights, you're up until the birds begin to chirp; others, you're only there for fifteen minutes before Rhett's internet connection drops or Bob's interrupted by an important phone call. There are a lot of days where you have to be the first to leave because you've got things to do in the morning. 

But sometimes, just sometimes, you find yourself here. 

Curled up in bed, laptop propped up next to you, fighting the drowsiness that's long since settled in your eyes. Sleep sings your name in the sweetest melody, her arms open, welcoming you to step into sweet, sweet unconsciousness, but you can't take that final step. Too fixated on the blurry screen to hear her siren song. 

Bob rests on the upper half of your screen; those glasses have long since come off, his pale face smushed into the pillow. Every time you think he's finally fallen asleep, those soft blues flutter open as if he's waiting for you and Rhett to doze off first. They haven't said anything about it, but you're pretty sure he and Rhett have a bet on who's going to be the first to give in.

Your night owl of a cowboy isn't doing much better, staring up at you with that half-lidded gaze from the bottom portion of the screen. The only thing keeping him awake is the hand he's got propped beneath his head, but he's starting to slip too. Even now, you can tell, all from the way his free arm is slowly pulling that spare pillow closer and closer to his chest. 

"Your neck is gonna be sore again if you keep your head propped up like that."

The corner of Rhett's lip lifts, "shut it, Flyboy." But he's already pulling his hand out from beneath his head, properly settling down into his messy bed. 

"That wasn't me," Bob's words are stretched around a yawn, barely decipherable.

Much to your dismay, you're the first to drift off. 

Making video chats a regular event may have been a mistake because you start catching yourself staying up even later. Clinging to every second you get with them because they're such busy men that you don't get to have these calls as often as you'd like. 

Men who certainly don't make your heart skip a beat when they light your phone up with good morning text messages. Always up before you, always bickering with each other and sharing what they're up to, growing excited the moment your good morning text comes through. Two men who look at you like you're their entire world. 

But you can only have one.

And maybe that's how you found yourself here. Staring up at the ceiling as time seems to leave you behind completely. Memories flicker through your head like a picture book, comparing and contrasting, searching for something. Anything to find fault in one of them, to sway your decision. There's no point; you're split down the middle, can't force yourself to love one more than the other.

The world around you has long since fallen asleep, leaving you with no escape from your own thoughts. Trapped in an invisible prison, not a distraction around to help you avoid it. You hate these nights. 

Because it’s on quiet nights like these, when the world around you has gone eerily quiet, and your phone is devoid of any new notifications, that you truly feel the effects of your heart becoming tangled up in a never-ending game of tug of war. 

Optional continuation: Rhett_16 is typing...