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weirdworldofwinnie · 6 months

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Happy Halloween!🎃Here's a treat for all you Jonathan Crane lovers out there:

Face Me...

Dr. Jonathan Crane aka Scarecrow x Female Reader (NSFW 18+ only smut)

Summary: You work at Arkham Asylum in Gotham and Dr. Crane has been stalking you for a while, but you are leery of him and have been avoiding him outside of professionalism at all costs. One night though as you are leaving work, he tracks you down at your car to see just what you're so afraid of.

Word Count: ~4,426

Warnings: Semi-rough car sex, non-con elements, forced oral (male receiving), dirty talk/language, slight degradation, hair pulling, slapping, stalker behavior, talk of virginity loss, birth control, Dr. Crane being kind of a creep in general

Note: Reader does not know he is actually Scarecrow! And images above are sourced from Pinterest. This story is based only on Cillian Murphy's version in the Batman films and is my interpretation of the character; I don't own him or any part of the franchise, this is just for fun.

Tonight was swathed in misty sheets of rain in the gritty darkness lightly tainted by the glow of streetlights as your car, parked a few blocks from Arkham Asylum, beeped to unlock and you slung your purse over your shoulder, sighing after a long day and wanting to get home to a hot bath and a drink or two. But a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach at a shadow from your peripheral vision made you hesitate and you squinted through the hazy shower that was tapering off to a light drizzle, dampening your hair.

A suited man, height on the shorter side, was stopped no more than twenty feet away and a jarring jolt rushed to your bones when you saw the street light glint off his narrow framed glasses and you paused, hand on the car door. He was utterly silent and you were unnerved by his stiff posture and oddly clenched fists, half thinking to jump in your four-door-sedan and peel out of his presence, but he then walked forward causally, those hands relaxing and slipping into the pockets of his black slacks.

"Good evening," he called out, stepping into view under a streetlight with a smirk and you clenched your jaw, crossing your arms defensively as he slowly approached, that sick smile never sliding off his features that were - you'd have to admit - frankly handsome... No, beautiful was a better term.

"Why are you stalking me, Dr. Crane?" you asked with edginess to your tired voice. It was late and you didn't even live in Gotham City, you just commuted here for work.

"Stalking? Oh no, I am simply observing," he replied smoothy, but it came off as more snappy and insincere.

"Right... Don't you have somewhere to go?"

"Do you?"

"Yeah, home to my apartment miles away. It's been an exhausting day and too late to be out on the town, so if you're proposing anything, I can't take it tonight."

"It's always a long, late night in Gotham."

He moved within a few feet of you and you swallowed nervously, but remembered a man like him could smell fear, so you put up a brave front.

"So when do you finally fuck off and leave me alone? It's unprofessional to follow someone without their permission, you know. Keep this up and I'll need a restraining order."

"But you always avoid me during work and now you reject my offer for simple company?"

"Company late at night at my car in the rain? And aren't you technically my boss? We aren't friends and I don't know why you're so interested in me, but I don't think you should be. I'm not looking for a man like you. Right now I'm just looking for a nice glass of red wine honestly."

"Really...?" he drew the word out to almost a parodying tone and you pursed your lips.

"Yes, really. Now I bid you goodnight, Dr. Crane." You opened the car door fully, ducking and stepping a foot in when the door caught and you looked up to see him holding it in a firm grip. He was stronger than you expected.

"Stop denying it, I see the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention. Stop hiding and face me once and for all," he insisted darkly.

You took a breath, desperately trying to calm your beating heart and yet the horrible feeling that this evening wasn't going to end on a dull note persisted.

"Don't hurt me, I'll-" you started to warn and his eyebrows shot up with a shake of his head.

"Call the police?" It sounded like mockery from his mouth and you scowled as he continued, his pale hand sprinkled with rainwater sliding up and down the car door frame.

"Hurt you, hm? Well, only if you want me to." He chuckled and you stared at his slightly floppy dewey dark hair and raised eyebrows.

"Why the hell would I want you to hurt me?"

"You tell me. I do know you secretly want something else, don't you? Something more... erotic?"

You scoffed angrily, hating how he was worming his way past your exterior and into attraction, but you couldn't let it happen.

"Take a raincheck. I'm going home." You tried to shut the door but he was still holding it in a death grip, knuckles white and veins bursting out the back of his hand.

"Stop fucking around, I don't have time for this sh-" you cut off your sentence with a yelp as Dr. Crane shoved you inside the backseat of your own car and you landed flat on your back as he came inside to hover over your vulnerable body, wetting his pink lips.

"Please! Don't do this!" you cried out of panic and he leaned back, breathing heavily.

"Don't go anywhere," he warned and you struggled to sit up, throwing your purse up front and he slammed the side door shut, getting more comfortable in the backseat, which you were not pleased about.

"This is MY car, get out," you commanded, but he was as cool as a cucumber as he cleaned his glasses with a cloth from his suit jacket.

"I just want to talk one on one, which we never do outside of the usual board meetings and it can be so boring, always about psychiatry and stats and police reports and this patient and these crazies and-"

"Oh sure you just want to talk. I'm not some kind of naive idiot to the desires of the opposite sex," you rolled your eyes and he scoffed, settling back on the seat with a cross of his legs and looking up to the car ceiling.

"It's so cold and wet tonight, shame we aren't someplace more cozy," he muttered and you awkwardly crawled into the driver's seat with your keys and fumbled to insert them in, starting the ignition.

"What are you doing there?" he asked mildly and even that sounded passive aggressive. God, he sure was insufferable.

"Turning the heat on because you're whining about it. I just wish you'd get out of here, completely violating my privacy."

"This is a public street you're parked on, isn't it? And is this how you treat all passengers?"

"I never have any passengers," you remarked bitterly and Crane leaned forward, putting his hands on the back of the seat and peering around to you as you glanced at him in the rearview mirror.

"Indeed. I know you're mostly a loner with almost no friends and orphaned from family or maybe you've lied and they aren't dead and are only estranged... Either way, no one cares and no one understands how you spend office hours in a facility full of the most criminally insane but you do it for the money and to quench your curiosity because deep down, you know - you know you're a freak too who sees no normal in what you have deemed a, oh say... corrupt kind of world."

You swallowed at his assertions and unfortunately fairly accurate reading.

"I don't need sympathy from you of all people," you snapped, putting the heat to full blast. It was freezing tonight and the defrost was battling the condensation filling up the windshield.

"I'm only trying to understand you myself, it's my job to psychoanalyze."

"I'm not one of your patients or experiments," you told him in disgust.

"Every human being is an experiment in the eyes of their creator, which is me for you because I happen to be the one who hired you in the first place. Without me, you would not have a job and therefore I created you in that respect," he replied in absurd smugness.

"Then what am I? Frankenstein's monster?"

His eyes flashed and he adjusted his glasses reflexively.

"I wish. No, you're my first prototype I have yet to diagnose."

You shut the heat off once the internal temperature was fairly toasty and cracked a window down a fraction for circulation. A beat of silence befell until he suddenly climbed into the front, dropping into the passenger seat confidently, and you realized how lithe he was, how easily he fit into spaces not designed for someone with such an overshadowing, all-encompassing ego.

"Now what are you doing?" you asked exasperatedly. He didn't answer and you hated the way looking at him was making your heart flutter despite your anger and the alarm bells ringing in your brain. Something about him was always... very off and you never could quite place your finger on it, he was a blind spot, but it was undeniable. Which was telling considering the people you were exposed to every day.

Crane reached up and removed his glasses entirely with a swipe to set them on the dash and your breath caught with that simple action. You admitted how he was very visually pleasing without those lens obstructing his intense blue colored orbs were. You glanced down and fiddled with the keys when he suddenly snatched them up out of your lap and pocketed them into his own pants with a manic expression.

"Hey, give those back!" you yelled and began to wrestle with him, arms flailing as he held his own above his head, palms up and empty.

"You want those? You have to do something for me first."

"I-Okay, what is it?" You dropped your arms and glared at him suspiciously. He smirked once, speaking with a tremor of excitement.

"If I was civilized, which I'm admittedly not, I'd ask you out on an old fashioned dinner date and then walk you to your door, give you a nice polite kiss and send flowers to your desk on Monday. But I can't wait anymore for that saccharine romantic scenario, so we'll get straight down to business. I want to fuck your brains out, right here in the car."

You blinked, rather stunned.

"I... I-I no, I can't, I mean that's-"

And here was where your confidence utterly failed as he suddenly lunged and grabbed you to pin you down inbetween the passenger and driver seats, head flung upside down almost to the backseat floor and legs helplessly kicking towards the windshield.

"Please, don't do this!" you yelped anxiously.

"Don't tell me you're a virgin who has never had a dick in you before," he whispered, misreading your fearful hesitant expression. Actually, you'd had sex once with a lame boyfriend back in college and since then, avoided the dating and hookup scene, content just to masturbate when you could.

"Oh, fuck, I should've guessed. What a shocking discovery," he wrongly concluded rather sarcastically and you cringed, twisting your head away from his warm breath and ridiculously good looks.

"This makes it all the more interesting, then," he murmured with a feathery caress to your cheek and you flinched, giving him a kick and successfully wriggling out of his grasp to curl up against the door in the backseat.

"I've been waiting a long time for our encounter," he mused, utterly unfazed at the negative reaction.

You immediately went to open the door, ready to run for your life if he became overly threatening, but he hit the button that locked all the doors. You manually unlocked your one door - thank God for that safety feature - but his deadly voice made you freeze.

"Are you quite sure you want to do that?"

"T-This is my ensured vehicle and y-you are violating every right of mine by t-taking over like this," you stated, but your voice was shaking like a leaf through the words.

"That's it, you are afraid of me..." he whispered slowly and the pure delight with pride in his voice was unmistakable. You turned to look at him directly, unable to hide and deny anything any longer.

"I think you are being very inappropriate right now," you admitted nervously.

Crane moved to join you in the backseat, but you felt stuck even though you could technically open the door and make an escape. There was no way he could really stop you, was there? He didn't have a weapon on him, did he?

"If you were really frightened, you would have bolted by now," he said as though reading your thoughts and you gulped, realizing he was right.

"Dr. Crane, I-" you were broken off by him abruptly grabbing your face and kissing you, his tongue sloppily forcing its way into your mouth and you naturally reciprocated while inhaling his sharp stinging scent of expensive cologne. He pulled back with a gasp and a mischievous spark in his eyes that made something awaken deep inside.

"You kissed me," you said in a stunned voice.

"That's precisely what I did, Y/N," he answered with another touch of smugness and you closed your eyes, knowing you were in too deep now. He was going to take this all the way and you felt helpless to stop it. Did you even want to stop him?

"I knew if I exposed myself enough to you, you'd finally stop being immune," Crane told you with a sort of self-righteousness as he ran his hands down your back and shrugged your coat off before moving to your front to remove your blouse carefully, button by button.

"I hate to see such pretty tits contained and so oppressed... Let's free them, shall we?"

He unclasped your bra and removed it, tossing it to the floor and you shivered, goosebumps peppering your bare arms and neck.

"Aww, is it too cold?" He made a pout and privately you wanted to smack those stupid lips right off his condescending face but it was if you were under a spell of a sudden, entranced by his actions and his hypnotic eyes. He trailed his fingers down from your throat to your nipples and you hardened at the stimulation, closing your eyes in regret. Dr. Crane was turning you on, dammit.

"Better than I could imagine..." he breathed, taking in your appearance for a minute while groping your breasts, squeezing, and you gritted your teeth as he teasingly tickled you under your arms, making your breath hitch and a stupid giggle slipped out.

"Sensitive, are we? I promise I won't hurt you."

You leaned back, casting a fretful look out the windows in case of onlookers, but the street was empty and the glass was streaky with rain, creating a thickly translucent rippled covering not unlike a shower curtain.

"No one knows," Crane stated flatly in response to your paranoia while untying his dress shoes and pushing them under the seats. You just nodded, taking off your own and then unzipping your pants the same time he undid his own. His tight dark grey briefs were bulging with his cock and you hesitated, absolutely unsure of what to do when he completely stripped and out popped out his erect glistening-at-the-tip penis in full view.

"Take it in your mouth," Crane ordered abruptly, pushing you down beneath him.

"Um, no I think that's disgus-" Your voice was cut off as you nearly choked; he roughly shoved his cock so fast into your parted mouth. The silky end of his tie tickled your nose as he inched closer, and clearly this was much more enjoyable for him than it was for you as he groaned in building ecstasy and you kept your mouth closed around it, afraid that if you moved, you'd gag or get hurt. He forced your head up a little and bobbed, but you could feel a dribble of precum seeping down your throat and now you reflexed, yanking yourself from him with a loud noise and banging the car door open to cough and spit violently out onto the pavement below.

"Get back in, do you want someone to see us?!" Crane hissed and you felt a sharp tug on your hair as he pulled you back. You shrieked and self defensively twisted to slap him straight in the face. He gasped from the unexpected blow, falling back and banging his head on the opposite window as you spat, wiping your lips of his mess.

"Can't take it like a common whore, can you? Feel like being a goddamn difficult bitch, don't you? Think you're better than me, do you?" he seethed, rubbing his cranium and you huffed.

"I thought you'd just put your dick in me, not that bullshit."

"It's called oral and many women in fact enjoy it."

"How do you know, you've done that before?"

He had a strange expression when he replied briskly.

"I've read up on the concept, you know."

"You've studied about women and sex. Amazing. Is that what you do on your lunch break or...?" you almost laughed, but the way he was staring at you wasn't in a joking manner. He had the look of an inmate one straw away from a full psychotic behavior break down. Basing from your training, you decided to distract his frustrating anger and talk nonchalantly to calm him down.

"Okay, I'm kidding around, I get it, and I don't mean to hate or spite you. Remember when I was initially employed at Arkham, fresh out of college, and I met you for the first time? I personally thought you were extremely cocky and looked waaay too young to be a top psychiatrist in such a grand high security institution. Now I can say with certainty that while you are, um, creative in your methods with the inmates and I do admit I find you very terribly attractive, I have to say Dr. Crane... I still think you're an arrogant son of a bitch."

"Call me Jonathan," he replied, unimpressed by the insult and wrestling off his tie.

"Well, Dr. Jonathan, you sure are a pretty piece of work," you replied with ample attitude and he was fed up, dumping his jacket and shirt from his body and twisting the tie in his fingers. He held it up and a muscle spasmed in face, jaw clenching and enunciating his cheekbones.

"You want me to choke you with this?"

"I'd really prefer you didn't and it would be very nice if you weren't such a dick forcing your sex on me," you answered matter-of-factly.

"Lie down or I'll fucking fire you from your position, understand?" he snapped loudly and was extremely serious as you glared, but then reluctantly laid back obediently on the seats just to avoid complications and he came down swiftly, carefully aligning to position his penis at your entrance. He cautiously touched the moist head to your vaginal lips when you held up a hand onto his chest, stopping him.

"Now hang on doctor, don't you want to warm up first?"

"I'm obviously already warmed up, Miss Y/LN."

"But I don't have lubricant on me, so you're going to have to get me naturally very wet for penetration because right now I'm dry as a bone," you warned for your own protection, but hardly expected him to listen.

"Don't tell me how to do it," he replied, snippy.

"I'm serious, you can't just stick it in there; it will be just as hard for you as it'll be for me and I don't want to end up seeing a gynecologist."

"So you aren't a virgin after all?"

"I had my hymen broken with a loser in the past," you told him and he raised one brown eyebrow, creasing his forehead with a few fine lines.

"Then how should I start, Miss doctor?"

You wordlessly took a hold of his index finger and guided it to your opening and he pressed lightly, feeling pooling liquid.

"You little liar, you're already discharging," he whispered disapprovingly and he massaged your clit in slow jerky rhythm. You nodded in approval, losing your control as he slipped a finger in and moved around enough to make you clench a bit, trapping his digit.

"How does that feel?" he asked almost clinically and you closed your eyes, urging him to put in another finger. He did and you almost orgasmed when he extracted much too soon, sighing.

"This isn't much fun for me," he whined and you made a face, shifting position to spread your legs wider, putting your arms up and accidentally smearing the fogged window with your fingertips. You looked utterly submissive, practically begging to be fucked, to get it over with (so you convinced yourself).

But for all his aggression to trap you in your own car for penetrative sex, Jonathan was now becoming oddly timid as he hesitantly closed the gap between you, realigning his bare body to yours.

"Wait, have you done this before?" you asked suspiciously and he was sheepish in answering.

"I told you, you are my first prototype."

"Shit, you're the virgin here?!" You laughed as though this made this experience any less stressful or partially contrived.

"Do you masturbate?" you then asked and he rolled his eyes.

"What kind of man of do you think I am?"

"Is that yes or no?"

"Doesn't matter, Y/N. Now, let me ask you a more important question: are you on birth control of any type?"

"I..." you hesitated to answer because if you told him 'no' would he go any further? You had pills at home as a precaution, but neglected to ever take them, assuming you'd be remaining single. But you had no intention of getting into a full relationship and certainly not being impregnated by this man.

"I left them at home," you finally answered truthfully.

"I have something for that then," he assured and you stared as he leaned back and rummaged in the pockets of his clothes on the floor. He produced a tiny pill container and dropped a pill into your open palm. You didn't ask why he was carrying around birth control pills, but assumed he had indeed been planning this for a while.

"Don't want any unnecessary side effects of something that I'll have to end up terminating anyway," he muttered bitterly as you popped it in and climbed into the driver's seat to swig some water from your plastic bottle in the cupholder, feeling grateful that at least he didn't administer that Fear Toxin he was always messing around with in the asylum.

"Now can we get started?" Jonathan asked impatiently and you took a breath, easing the front seat down so you were lying parallel to him. Jonathan clamored on top of your naked flesh and straddled you, his cock rubbing up against your thighs, then vaginal area and you squirmed, clutching onto his back. He pushed in gradually, but densely, and you whimpered at the stinging pain and then the growing pleasure bubbling around his cock within your walls and you clenched hard, much harder than you had with his fingers.

"Oh... Fuck, Jonathan..." you groaned and he bounced up and down lightly, thrusting with slaps of skin and you felt your bottom sticking with sweat to the leather seat as he kept at it for several minutes, gripping your hips and nearly plowing you apart. It hurt, no getting around it, and he wasn't privy to what you were feeling as he seemed entirely in his own zone, racing for his pleasure until you moaned loud enough to cause him glance down, realizing you were getting close to free falling off the edge.

"C'mon, you're so close with that pretty little pussy of yours, almost..." Jonathan breathed in your ear and as he hit the spot, finally the climaxing orgasm came with a bang and it was so intense, probably fueled by adrenaline and stress more than actual love, that you emitted a high pitched shrieking whine which trailed into a low moan of relief while it tapered off and he grunted, somehow thrusting even further. Yes, you had minimal experience, but had never ever been penetrated this far before and you dreaded how much longer he could rail you, but thankfully his own orgasm came with a grunting groan as he spilled into you and you held on, digging nails into his shoulder blades and nearly biting his neck. He panted heavily in your ear and his tickle of breath made your stomach flip.

He laid still on top of you for awhile, cock twitching and warming your insides. The windows were fogged up completely and the cold was now non-existent with the heat you and him were creating out of friction alone.

"You enjoy yourself?" you whispered hoarsely to Jonathan as his breathing slowed sluggishly and he looked like he was falling asleep, so you shoved him off your aching body and he blinked, rubbing his forehead.

"Yeah, that was satisfactory. Maybe I should bump up your paycheck."

"I'm not a prostitute, but thank you."

He smiled lazily, eyes rather unfocused, and you pulled your seat up with the lever, reaching for his glasses on the dash and handing them back to him. He, in turn, retrieved the car keys from his pants and tossed them back to you with a clanging jingle.

Casting a look around your car, there were streaky handprints on the fogged glass, thin swipes of fingers and imprinted palms decorating the back windows and you reached over to one and drew a heart outline in a patch of blank space. Jonathan's own finger speared through it, making a arrow.

"Very romantic," you commented sarcastically and moved to join him in the backseat as he started to draw a creepy face reminiscent of a familiar spooky icon (a clown? Maybe a scarecrow?) when he stopped and checked his watch.

"I need to go," Jonathan coldly stated out of the blue and began to hastily gather up his clothing, awkwardly dressing before he stepped outside and zipped up his pants, and inhaled the late October city air, somewhat out of breath. The rain had stopped and the skies were clearing, the full pearly white moon slicing through the curtain of storm clouds, and you drew your blouse around yourself with a shiver before sliding into underwear, realizing you'd never look at Dr. Crane the same since this intimately raw experience.

"So I'll be seeing you around tomorrow...?" you wondered aloud and although you meant for that to be purely work related, he clearly took it the other direction.

"Oh, I'll be seeing you." He smirked knowingly and then slammed the car door closed in your face, leaving you sore and to reel from whatever the hell this twisted specimen of a man just put you through. Did you like it?

Maybe.

Thanks for reading 🖤 First time writing for Jonathan Crane, so I hope this was halfway decent!

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lasagnebats · 3 months

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messy sketch for a Scarecrow concept. kinda borrowed from the Arkham game designs but made him more goth

#my art #jonathan crane #batman #dr jonathan crane #dr crane #dc jonathan crane #artwork #batman fanart #fanart #scarecrow fanart #dc scarecrow #the scarecrow #scarecrow #tw smoking #smoking #goth scarecrow is everything tho

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scarecrowismybabygirl · 9 months

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Professor Crane working on his fear toxin

#imagine he asks you to stay after class #my toxic trait is that I'd agree #fully knowing what he's up to #when he's a little unhinged but he looks like this so it's ok #tormented babygirl #jonathan crane #scarecrow #nolanverse #cillian murphy #oppenheimer #robert oppenheimer #dr crane #dr babygirl

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 1 month

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Masterlist (Cillianmesoftlyyy)

Last updated: 3/16/24

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

Neil Lewis:

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

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

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

Tommy Shelby:

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

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

Cillian Murphy:

Under the Weather (fluff)

Method Acting (smut)

So New (fluff)

Like a Good Neighbor... (smut)

Cut the Shit-delusion, Sweetheart (fluff)

Nerves (smut) ⭐️

Dr. Jonathan Crane:

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

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

Jonathan Breech:

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

Tom (The Party 2017):

Sweet Revenge (smut)

Agent Lenny Miller (Anna 2019):

How About It, Agent Miller? (smut)

#cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #fanfiction #cillian x reader #cillian murphy x reader #peaky blinders #cillian fluff #cillian fanfic #cillian x y/n #smut #neil lewis #watching the detectives #jackson rippner #on the edge 2001 #hot scarecrow #dr crane #johnathan crane #tommy shelby #peaky blinder fanfic

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butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 4 months

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Office Hours/Bells - Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader (Part 1)

Pairing: Professor!Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 12 640

Warnings: Obsessive behaviour, Professor x Student, mild body horror, fear gas, lowkey prey/predator kink (chasing), kidnapping

Summary: Y/n, a university student, forms an unexpected friendship with Professor Jonathan Crane. But are his intentions what he says they are?

A/N: This one accidentally became a bit of a slow-burn but hey! it is what is~ I didn't know which one to call this so I just did both 💀 My initial plan for this was just a short one, around 2k-3k words... guess that didn't work out. A lot of it may be repetitive, so apologies A/N: This one accidentally became a bit of a slow-burn but hey! it is what is~ I didn't know which one to call this so I just did both 💀 My initial plan for this was just a short one, around 2k-3k words... guess that didn't work out. A lot of it may be repetitive, so apologies - (Part 2) (Part 3)

Y/n entered the psychology lecture hall, the familiar scent of old textbooks and the low hum of whispered conversations enveloping her as she took her usual seat near the front. The lecture hall was spacious, rows of worn-out seats filled with few students, as most dropped the class within the first week, due to the Professors harsh attitude. As she settled in, her eyes wandered to the front of the room, where Professor Crane's desk stood. He usually entered on the dot so it wasn’t strange to see his desk empty.

The sound of the office door's wide swing echoed through the hall, Professor Crane walking in, his presence evoked a collective hush in the lecture room. As if choreographed, he navigated the room with an air of precision, placing his meticulously organized files and papers onto the desk.

Professor Crane wasted no time, setting the tone for the day's lesson. It became immediately apparent to every student that patience was not a virtue Professor Crane indulged in. The swift, deliberate motion of his hand grabbed a piece of chalk, and with a decisive sweep, he began writing the day's lesson on the board.

As the lesson drew to a close, marking the end of another lengthy lecture, Y/n found herself grappling with the weight of the information presented. Despite her best efforts to remain focused, the sheer volume of content in today's lesson proved to be a challenge for her to fully absorb. The struggle to grasp the concept left her feeling both mentally fatigued, yearning for a moment of rest.

“If there’s any trouble, my office hours are available for help,” Professor Crane finished, as the students left.

Despite being aware of the option to attend Professor Crane's office hours, Y/n hesitated, daunted by the intimidating presence of the man. The memory of him calling on classmates during class, casually degrading them when they struggled to grasp concepts, lingered in her mind. The thought of engaging in a one-on-one conversation with him only stirred up anxiety. Opting against visiting Professor Crane's office, Y/n retreated to her dorm.

Back in her dorm, Y/n sank into her desk chair, frustration evident on her face. The psychology book lay open before her, its pages a source of bewilderment. Despite her earnest attempts to comprehend the material covered in class, the concept continued to slip through her grasp. With a sigh of exasperation, she tossed her pen onto the desk, leaning back into her chair.

The struggle was real, and Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of being lost in a sea of incomprehension. Even reaching out to fellow classmates had proven futile, as they too found themselves in the dark. The weight of confusion hung heavy in the air, leaving Y/n grappling with the unsettling realization that she may have to push her anxieties away for help.

Glancing at her class calander she made at the beginning of the year, Y/n noticed that Professor Crane had office hours scheduled a couple of hours before tomorrows class. A moment of contemplation ensued, marked by the rhythmic bouncing of her leg. Eventually, she reasoned that giving it a shot couldn't hurt. After all, even if Professor Crane were to belittle her, at least there wouldn't be an audience to witness any potential humiliation.

The following morning, Y/n gathered her books and essentials, preparing for another day at the university. As she stepped onto the campus, her destination clear, she headed towards Professor Crane's office. Each step felt burdened, her legs heavy with nervousness that clung to her as she approached the looming encounter.

Standing in front of Professor Crane's office door, Y/n took a shaky breath before knocking. The response came swiftly, "Come in," in Professor Crane's authoritative voice.

Twisting the handle, she entered the room. Professor Crane, engrossed in some papers, looked up as she stepped in. Y/n found herself at a loss for words, her shyness momentarily stifling her thoughts.

Breaking the silence, Professor Crane inquired, "Can I help you with something?"

Caught off guard, Y/n stammered, "Uh, yes, sorry. I was, umm, trying to go over the things we learned yesterday, but I had trouble trying to grasp the concept. I was wondering if you could help me go over it?"

Jonathan regarded her for a moment before gesturing towards the seat opposite him, a silent invitation for her to sit. Y/n promptly took the seat, positioning herself across from him.

Y/n looked around the room, taking in the surroundings. Bookshelves adorned with a myriad of psychology titles graced the walls, that offer a visual journey through the expansive world of the mind. Disheveled piles of papers and folders, likely files from Arkham, added an air of mystery to the atmosphere. The walls were adorned with various academic accolades and framed degrees. The inviting couch, a standard feature in university offices, seemed strangely pristine and untouched.

"Do you have anything for me to look at? Anything specific?" Jonathan inquired, shifting his papers to make room for her.

Nodding, Y/n retrieved her textbook and a few of her own papers. As she handed them over, Professor Crane asked, "What part did you not understand?" The question, though genuine, had a way of making her feel a bit foolish, and a sudden warmth crept into her face.

"Well...I had trouble with the start of it so...I didn’t understand...any of it," Y/n admitted, a tinge of embarrassment coloring her words.

Avoiding eye contact with her professor, Y/n couldn't help but feel small in his presence. She felt like a complete idiot.

"Well..." Crane sighed, surprising Y/n with a comment that sounded unexpectedly friendly. "Looks like we got a lot of work ahead of us."

Despite the friendly remark, Y/n remained on edge. Professor Crane pulled the book closer, running his pen tip over the first couple of sentences. Reading them aloud, he delved into more depth, echoing the teaching style she was familiar with from his lectures.

Y/n clung to his words, processing and understanding the material more with each passing moment. Her notebook lay open beside her, writing brief notes that she intended to expand upon during her own time. To her surprise, Professor Crane exhibited an unexpected gentleness and patience, allowing her the space to ask questions and guiding her through the material at a measured pace.

In this one-on-one session, Y/n found herself gaining more information that surpassed what she could have achieved on her own. The personalized attention and the chance to delve deeper into the subject with Professor Crane were proving invaluable to her comprehension of the challenging concepts.

"Has that helped?" Professor Crane inquired, reclining in his chair.

"Yes, thank you. This makes so much sense now," Y/n replied, unable to contain her smile.

"Glad I could help," Professor Crane acknowledged. "Thanks for coming in; don't hesitate so much next time," he added.

Y/n couldn't help but be pleasantly surprised by Professor Crane's kindness throughout the entire session. The encounter left her with a newfound appreciation for his approachability and willingness to assist.

Y/n finally looked up at him properly, meeting his gaze for the first time in that half-hour. She was taken aback, realizing the striking blue hue of his eyes, a detail she had never noticed before as she avoided looking at him in lectures, hoping he wouldn’t call on her.

Quickly averting her gaze, she began packing away all her materials. "Thank you again, sir," Y/n expressed, her smile lingering.

"Feel free to come back after today's lesson too if you're having trouble," he suggested, offering her a slight smile in return.

The unexpected kindness from Professor Crane left Y/n pleasantly surprised. "I will, sir. Thank you," she replied before leaving the office, carrying with her a newfound appreciation for the approachability and support she hadn't anticipated.

With a newfound sense of confidence, Y/n practically skipped her way to the library to finalize her notes. The weight that had initially clung to the prospect of talking to Professor Crane had lifted, and she discovered that he wasn't as intimidating as she had initially thought.

As class approached, Y/n felt a wave of optimism about the upcoming lesson, knowing she now had the option to seek more help later. The prospect of understanding the material became less daunting.

When Professor Crane entered the class, the usual hush fell over the room. Unfazed, he seamlessly resumed his routine, initiating the lesson with his familiar writing on the board. The air was charged with anticipation, and Y/n felt a renewed sense of readiness to tackle the subject matter with the newfound support at her disposal.

Not even 10 minutes into the class, Y/n watched as Professor Crane once again questioned a student's intelligence, a sharp contrast to the kindness she had experienced earlier. It caught her off guard — his demeanor seemed to shift dramatically when addressing individuals in front of the class. She wondered if he found enjoyment in embarrassing people publicly or if there was another motive behind his approach. Y/n instinctively shrank back into her seat, hoping not to be the next target.

As the lesson concluded, Y/n made a quick move toward the door, only to find herself intercepted by Professor Crane stepping in front of her.

"Understand today's lesson?" he inquired, hands clasped behind his back. His slight smile surprised her, considering the belittlement she had witnessed throughout the class.

"Yeah, I think I got it," Y/n responded quickly.

The Professor nodded. "Alright, just don't be scared to ask for help," he advised before strolling back to his office. Y/n stood there, grappling with the unexpected duality of Professor Crane's demeanor, thankful for the support she had received earlier but still perplexed by the contrasting experiences in the classroom.

Regrettably for Y/n, the intricacies of today's lesson eluded her, slipping through the gaps in her understanding during the last 10 minutes of class. Her meticulous note-taking proved insufficient, she clearly didn’t get the last part of the lesson. The idea of seeking help at Professor Crane's office hours lingered, but a sense of unease settled in after the day's earlier interactions.

The peculiar contrast in Professor Crane's treatment of her versus the rest of the class left Y/n feeling unsettled. Was he kinder to those who sought help, or was there a different dynamic at play? It remained uncertain, casting a shadow over the prospect of returning for assistance.

Yet, the urgency of understanding the material prevailed over any reservations. Realizing the potential consequences for future lessons, Y/n knew she would have to get help. Y/n considered asking another classmate again, but preferred the way in which Professor Crane was indepth and had more to offer. She acknowledged the necessity of visiting Professor Crane's office hours the next day, and it didn’t feel as daunting as it did the day before.

Approaching Professor Crane's office for the second time, Y/n hesitated for a brief moment before knocking on the door.

"Come in," Professor Crane's voice called out.

Y/n opened the door, offering a tight-lipped smile as she entered. "Thought you'd come back," Professor Crane remarked, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he leaned back in his chair.

Taking the now familiar seat across from him, Y/n observed as he pushed aside his work to focus on her. Placing her books on the table, she turned to the last page of the chapter, the faint rustle of paper filling the room.

"It was just the end bit that I kinda lost track of," Y/n admitted, her voice portraying a hint of uncertainty.

“This should be a lot quicker than yesterday, then,” the Professor smiled, joking lightly.

Leaning over the book, Professor Crane again took her through the paragraphs slowly, picking them apart one by one, making sure she understood each thing he said.

As she attempted to maintain focus, the alluring scent of Professor Crane's cologne began to weave its way into her senses, creating a subtle distraction. The close proximity, both of them leaning over the desk to study the book, allowed the fragrance to unfold in intricate layers. The cologne, not noticeable the day before or perhaps just more subdued, now revealed itself with greater prominence.

The scent was strong, but not unpleasant. The fragrance enveloping him carried a sophisticated blend of notes that gracefully danced in the air. A distinct combination of musky undertones and woody accents created an aura of timeless masculinity. As he moved, subtle hints of citrus and spice gently emerged, adding a layer of complexity to the scent.

"Y/n? Did you get that?" Professor Crane's voice pulled her back to reality.

Y/n shook her head, attempting to refocus. "Oh, sorry, could you repeat that last part?" she squinted, her face warming with embarrassment.

Professor Crane patiently reiterated the information, ensuring she grasped it this time. Internally, Y/n chastised herself, questioning how she could be so easily distracted by a man's cologne.

"You want to write that down?" he suggested, studying her expression.

"It might take a while..." Y/n admitted, well aware of her heightened distraction today.

"That's fine; we have all the time in the world," Professor Crane assured, leaning back in his chair.

"But another student might need help," Y/n hesitated, considering the potential impact on others.

"That's not a problem. No one comes to office hours. Just you," Professor Crane revealed, a statement that slightly shocked Y/n. She had assumed his intimidating demeanor might keep some students away, but the revelation that she was the only one who sought assistance caught her off guard. "O-oh," she stammered in response.

Y/n focused on her notebook, diligently transcribing the information provided by Professor Crane. As she carefully jotted down the details he emphasized, she couldn't shake the feeling of being exposed, a vulnerability that crept in unnoticed.

Glancing up, she caught Professor Crane looking directly at her. Despite the file in his hands, his gaze remained fixed on her. The realization left Y/n feeling a bit uneasy, unsure of why she suddenly felt so exposed under his scrutiny. Opting to dismiss the discomfort, she decided to concentrate on her writing, pushing the unease to the back of her mind and assuming it was just a fleeting moment of self-consciousness.

Having finished writing her notes, Y/n placed her pen down and looked back up at her professor. As he set his file aside, he directed his attention to her notebook. "Finished?" he inquired.

Y/n nodded in confirmation.

"Any more questions about yesterday's lesson?" Professor Crane asked.

She shook her head, indicating her understanding.

"Well, I suppose you're free to go then," Professor Crane remarked. Y/n began packing her belongings when, unexpectedly, he continued, "Unless... would you like me to teach you today's lesson?" The offer hung in the air, leaving Y/n momentarily surprised by the unexpected opportunity for additional guidance.

"But... office hours end in like half an hour," Y/n pointed at the clock, expressing her concern.

"They're my office hours; I can change them however I want," Professor Crane replied, his words softened by the friendly smile adorning his face.

"Are you sure you want to waste your time teaching me? I'll just hear it in a couple of hours anyway," Y/n expressed her uncertainty.

"I'd like to teach you; no one's more eager to learn than you are, my Dear. I insist," Professor Crane insisted, the endearment slipping into his words. Y/n almost missed it, caught off guard by the unexpected warmth in her professor's tone. It was a side of him she hadn't anticipated, and the kindness he displayed left her pleasantly surprised.

Y/n sighed with a mix of relief and gratitude. "You're too kind, sir. Thank you," she expressed, recognizing this as a valuable opportunity to get ahead in the class.

"Don't need to thank me, Dear," Professor Crane replied, a slight smile playing on his lips as he again tested the newfound name.

As she retrieved her books, Professor Crane opened them to the latest chapter. Patiently, he guided her through each part, allowing her the time she needed to take thorough notes. Engrossed in the material, Y/n's awareness was focused on the subject at hand, and she failed to notice Professor Crane's not so subtle staring for the second time.

Unbeknownst to her, he watched as her hair gracefully sat behind her ear and took note of the delicate way her fingers held the pen. The Professor's attentive gaze added an unexpected layer to the lesson, one that went beyond the academic content and into the realm of unspoken dynamics between student and teacher.

Y/n looked back up at Professor Crane, anticipation in her gaze as she awaited the next part of the lesson. As the professor spoke, Y/n found herself gazing up at him, absorbing only fragments of his words. Amid the intricate details of the lesson, her thoughts drifted to a deep appreciation for the professor and the invaluable assistance he was providing.

Glad she had returned to his office hours, Y/n reflected on the decision to have him teach her this lesson. The material was notably more information-heavy than previous lessons, and she couldn't help but feel a profound sense of gratitude. Without this one-on-one guidance, the complexity of the subject matter would have left her utterly lost in the classroom setting.

Professor Crane skillfully condensed what could have been a two-hour lesson into just over an hour. The efficiency of the session left Y/n feeling remarkably more confident in her understanding of Psychology.

"Thank you so much, Professor," Y/n expressed her gratitude with a genuine smile.

"Don't have to keep thanking me, Dear. Just doing my job," Professor Crane replied, returning her smile with a warmth that surpassed the formalities of a typical teacher-student interaction.

Checking the clock, Y/n realized class would commence in 20 minutes. "I should head off to give you time to prepare," she suggested, preparing to rise from her seat.

Professor Crane, however, suggested otherwise. "You might as well just wait here. You won't get in the way."

Unsure, Y/n hesitated before asking, "You sure you don't want a break before teaching? You're probably tired of me."

"Not at all... I could use the company," he reassured, his smile indicating a genuine desire for her presence rather than any sense of obligation.

Y/n couldn't help but smile. "Feeling lonely?" she teased, a newfound comfort allowing her to engage in a more playful manner.

"You could say that," Professor Crane replied, meeting her teasing with a genuine smile.

Reclaiming her seat and settling in, Y/n sought to initiate a conversation. "So... not many students come to your office hours?" she inquired, curious about the dynamics of student-teacher interactions.

"None... you're the first to come," Professor Crane admitted.

"Oh..." Y/n's realization set in. When he mentioned earlier that no one attended, she assumed it might be an exaggeration. Now, it became evident that she was indeed the sole student seeking assistance during his office hours.

Y/n had an realization; perhaps the reason Professor Crane treated her so nicely was that she was the only student attending his office hours. It occurred to her that he might genuinely appreciate her active approach to seeking help, recognizing her passion for the subject.

"I guess the other students are just too intimidated, or don't care," Professor Crane mused, his words carrying a subtle tone that hinted at his sentiments towards the rest of the students.

She sensed a certain disappointment in his words, an unspoken judgment on the other students who, for various reasons, didn't take advantage of the opportunity to seek additional guidance. The realization left Y/n feeling a mix of gratitude for the personalized attention she received and a touch of sympathy for the potential missed opportunities by her peers.

"Gee, you think very little of them, don't you?" Y/n quipped, her tone half-joking. It was her subtle way of delving into why Professor Crane sometimes treated the class so harshly.

She recognized that she might be overstepping, but a genuine curiosity about the man behind the professor prompted her to seek more insight.

"The class is full of imbeciles. They don't know a thing about psychology. The lot of them couldn't tell a psychopath from a sociopath," Crane vented, a hint of frustration in his words.

"Hey, they're not all idiots," Y/n tried to offer a more different perspective.

"You haven't read their papers," Crane rolled his eyes, a touch of exasperation evident in his response. The exchange revealed a layer of dissatisfaction with his students' grasp of the subject, providing Y/n with a glimpse into the source of his occasional sternness in class.

Though Y/n recognized the impossibility of psychoanalyzing her professor, curiosity had taken a firm hold, compelling her to want to understand more about the man behind the lectern. The enigma of Professor Crane's demeanor and his candid assessments of the students intrigued her, prompting a desire to unravel the complexities that lay beneath the surface.

"Well... what about my papers?" Y/n inquired, a mix of anticipation and curiosity evident in her expression. She was eager to hear how Professor Crane would describe her work.

His gaze intensified as he began, "It’s clear through your writing that you’re passionate about psychology. You beautifully discuss topics in a way that engages readers and sparks interest. Your ability to convey complex concepts with clarity and enthusiasm is truly commendable. It's evident that you not only possess a deep understanding of the subject matter but also a genuine passion for sharing that knowledge."

His words hung in the air, the intensity of his gaze holding a weight that went beyond mere academic assessment. Professor Crane's thoughtful analysis revealed not only an appreciation for Y/n's proficiency but also a recognition of the passion that fueled her exploration of psychology. It was a validation that made her feel proud of herself, creating a moment of mutual understanding and acknowledgment.

Y/n was taken aback, her eyes darting all around the room as her face warmed with disbelief. Praise of such magnitude was unfamiliar territory for her, and coming from Professor Crane, renowned for his exacting standards, it added an extra layer to her astonishment. "Gosh, my work couldn't have been that good, sir. You're too kind."

"You know I'm not kind just for the sake of it. I don't praise just any student's work, dear," Professor Crane responded, his expression serious, the weight of his words emphasizing the sincerity behind his commendation. The gravity of the moment lingered, leaving Y/n grappling with a mix of surprise and gratitude for the unexpected recognition of her efforts.

Y/n acknowledged that Professor Crane wasn't the type to dispense niceties without genuine merit, intensifying the authenticity of the moment. "I... I just don't know what to say," she confessed, her words laced with a mix of humility and gratitude.

"You don't have to say anything; just know that you're a brilliant student, and I'm glad to have you in my class," Professor Crane asserted, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, hands clasped together.

"Thank you," Y/n replied with a genuine smile, the warmth of the professor's acknowledgment lingering.

He nodded politely, reciprocating the smile. "So, what would you be doing right now if you weren't here with me?" he asked, a subtle inquiry into her interests without directly posing the question.

Indulging the curiosity, Y/n shared, "Usually, I'd be back at my dorm studying or maybe out with friends."

"Are these of yours friends taking different courses? It's just that I never see you sitting with anyone in class that much," Professor Crane probed further, expressing unexpected interest in the dynamics of her social circle.

She hadn't anticipated his curiosity about her friends. "Yeah, most of them are taking things like English Literature, History, Biochem," Y/n answered, providing a glimpse into the diverse corses her friend were taking.

"I see... and are all of them…just friends?" Professor Crane asked, his gaze intense, as if searching for something beyond the words.

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows, a touch of confusion coloring her expression. "I'm not sure I understand the question," she admitted.

"Are you seeing anyone?" he asked, taking the conversation into unexpected territory. It caught her off guard. Why was he interested? What prompted such a personal question? Despite her surprise, Y/n chose to keep the conversation flowing, steering clear of awkwardness. "No, I'm not," she answered. Professor Crane nodded, his focus unwavering.

Feeling a degree of boldness, Y/n decided to reciprocate, nervously asking, "How about you? Any wife or anything?" There was a hesitancy in her voice, a fear of overstepping.

"Nope... just me," Professor Crane replied, his tone casual yet offering little insight into his personal life.

Wanting to explore a topic outside the realm of teaching and relationships, Y/n sought a new avenue of conversation. "So you're also a Doctor at Arkham. What's that like?" she inquired.

Professor Crane sighed, a subtle chuckle escaping him. "Every day's a new challenge. I do enjoy my work there, but the patients can be a handful sometimes," he shared, offering a glimpse into the complexities of his dual roles as a professor and a practitioner at Arkham.

"From all the news, it sure sounds like a lot," Y/n remarked, sharing a laugh at the intriguing tales surrounding Arkham Asylum.

"You could come see it for yourself if you'd like. I can take you," Professor Crane offered, extending an unexpected invitation that caught Y/n off guard.

"W-wow, really?" Y/n's eyes widened with excitement. The prospect of exploring the infamous Arkham Asylum, even with it’s poor repetuation, was a dream come true.

"Of course, it would be a good learning experience," Professor Crane affirmed, his smirk hinting at a certain familiarity with the inner workings of the institution.

"Are you sure it's allowed?" Y/n inquired cautiously.

"I'm pretty high up in that place, so I can pull a couple of strings," he responded with a confident smirk, revealing a hint of his influence.

After a quick glace at the clock, Professor Crane rose from his seat. "People should be coming in right about now."

Looking at the time herself, Y/n gathered her belongings and prepared to leave. "We can talk more later about showing you Arkham if you'd like," Professor Crane suggested, holding the door open.

"That sounds perfect. Thank you, Professor," Y/n expressed her gratitude, making her way to the door.

"Talk to you after class, then," he said, smiling at her before returning to his desk.

Walking out of his office, Y/n couldn't fathom the extraordinary opportunity that had just presented itself, and the thought that such an experience might await her left her both thrilled and intrigued.

The class came to a close, and Y/n eagerly approached Professor Crane, who had already neatly packed his things, a shared smile bridging the distance between them.

"Let's talk about Arkham, then," Professor Crane suggested, leading the way to his office, Y/n following in tow.

"Do you have any lectures tomorrow?" Professor Crane inquired, his voice carrying an air of anticipation.

"Not tomorrow, no," Y/n responded.

"Then that sounds like the perfect time for me to take you," Professor Crane declared, a warm smile playing on his lips.

The reality of the situation began to sink in for Y/n. It was happening — the chance to explore the mysterious Arkham Asylum with Professor Crane as her guide. The thrill of the unexpected adventure filled her with a sense of wonder and disbelief.

"Oh my god, thank you so much, sir. This means so much to me," Y/n exclaimed, genuine gratitude painting her expression.

"You deserve it," Professor Crane replied, his assurance carrying a sense of sincerity.

"So umm... how will we go about this?" Y/n asked, eager to plan the logistics of the upcoming adventure.

"I'm assuming you stay at the university dorms?" Professor Crane inquired.

"I am, yes," Y/n confirmed.

"I suppose it would be easiest for me to pick you up from there. I can come get you at 8, if that works for you," Professor Crane suggested, offering a practical solution.

"Of course," Y/n agreed, the excitement bubbling within her, the prospect of exploring Arkham Asylum with Professor Crane creating a sense of giddiness that was hard to contain.

"Perfect," Professor Crane remarked. "Now, I should let you get back to your dorm and get a good rest; tomorrow's gonna be a big day for you," he added with a confident smirk.

Y/n chuckled in agreement. "I could imagine. Thank you, sir. Goodbye."

Professor Crane nodded politely as she exited his office. Y/n practically floated back to her dorm, the anticipation building within her. Following his advice, she decided to rest for the remainder of the day. The excitement of visiting Arkham Asylum, coupled with the mysterious allure of the institution, fueled her imagination.

As night fell, sleep proved elusive for Y/n. Her mind buzzed with anticipation and curiosity about the impending visit. What would she discover within the walls of Arkham? The prospect of the unknown, guided by Professor Crane, fueled her restless excitement, and she could barely contain her anticipation for the extraordinary day that awaited her.

The rhythmic buzz of Y/n's alarm clock greeted the new morning, a herald of the exciting day that awaited her. Brimming with anticipation, she practically bounced out of bed, fueled by a burst of energy that could only be described as a cocktail of nervousness and exhilaration. The bathroom became a sanctuary for a swift but thorough morning routine, cleansing her senses and preparing her for the significant day ahead.

As she perused her wardrobe, each garment held the weight of consideration. Y/n recognized the importance of making a favorable impression, especially considering the potential encounters with the discerning doctors at Arkham Asylum. She chose an outfit that balanced professionalism with a touch of her own style, a subtle nod to the gravity of the impending visit.

A glance at the clock revealed that she was ahead of schedule. It was 7:48, and uncertainty lingered about Professor Crane's punctuality. She realised she had no way of telling when he would arrive. Determined not to keep him waiting, Y/n decided to head outside, leaving the dormitory corridors.

The university grounds welcomed her with a subdued ambiance, the early morning calm only disturbed by the distant hum of city life. Y/n found a spot on a sturdy bench at the front of the dorms. The atmosphere was draped in the typical Gotham gloom – a ceiling of gray clouds stretched endlessly above, holding the promise of impending rain. Yet, for now, the air bore only a biting chill, a forewarning of the unpredictable Gotham weather.

Seated on the bench, Y/n couldn't escape the palpable excitement that rippled through her. The visible breaths she exhaled added a tangible layer to the anticipation, creating wisps of mist in the frigid air. The quietude of the campus seemed to magnify the significance of the moment as she patiently awaited the arrival of Professor Crane, the orchestrator of this extraordinary excursion into the unknown.

Lost in her thoughts, Y/n was blissfully unaware of someone approaching until a familiar voice cut through her reverie. "Good morning, Y/n," Professor Crane greeted her, his presence catching her by surprise.

Looking up from the ground, Y/n beamed a warm smile at him. "Good morning, Professor," she responded instinctively, the habit of addressing him formally ingrained in her.

"We're outside of class, my Dear, you don't have to call me Professor. Just Jonathan is fine," he suggested, a rare invitation to familiarity that caught her off guard. Testing the waters, she hesitated for a moment before tentatively trying out his first name. "Okay, Jonathan."

His smile in response conveyed a subtle warmth, as if sharing this piece of himself with her was a gesture of trust. "My car's just around the corner," he mentioned, and she rose from the bench to follow him.

As they made their way to the car, Y/n couldn't shake the peculiar nature of the situation. Getting into her professor's car in full view of her dorms was certainly out of the ordinary, but the sense of trust she felt for Jonathan quelled any reservations. The gentlemanly gesture of him opening the car door for her only added to the surreal atmosphere.

"Thank you," she expressed her gratitude with a smile as she settled into the car. Jonathan circled the vehicle and took his place in the driver's seat, the engine humming to life. As he secured his seatbelt, he shifted the conversation to a more mundane topic. "Have any breakfast before leaving?" he inquired, glancing over at her.

The realization struck her – breakfast had slipped her mind in the whirlwind of excitement. "Uh, no, I didn't," she admitted, a slight sheepishness in her tone.

“Well we can’t be having that,” Jonathan said, looking at her with his piercing blue eyes behind his glasses.

“Oh, it’s fine really,” Y/n tried to reassure him.

"You're in for a long day; you need food," Jonathan remarked, his concern for her well-being evident in his words. "Besides, I haven't eaten yet myself. I know a lovely cafe on the way; don't worry about it."

Grateful for his thoughtfulness, Y/n smiled and responded, "Thank you."

"Not a problem, my Dear," he assured her, his use of the endearment somehow making the situation feel even more surreal. With that, he skillfully maneuvered the car into the flow of traffic.

To her surprise, the chaotic Gotham roads seemed unusually cooperative, allowing their journey to unfold with an unexpected smoothness. The city, notorious for its perpetual hustle and bustle, offered a brief respite as they cruised toward their destination. In the serene confines of the car, Y/n couldn't help but marvel at the contrasting calmness outside.

Jonathan expertly maneuvered the car into a parking space just outside a charming diner nestled on the outskirts of the Narrows. Exiting the car, the duo made their way into the cozy establishment.

"Seat yourselves, I'll be right with you," greeted a friendly waitress.

Jonathan gestured towards an inviting booth, Y/n slid into the seat, the comfortable booth promising a relaxing start to the day's adventures.

As they settled in, Jonathan reached for a couple of menus discreetly tucked beneath the cutlery. He handed one to Y/n with a casual smile. "Choose anything you'd like—drink and food. I'll pay," he generously offered, his gaze shifting to his own menu.

"Oh, I can't have you pay for me. You're already doing so much for me," Y/n insisted, a hint of guilt tainting her expression.

Jonathan chuckled warmly, his eyes reflecting a genuine understanding. "You're a university student staying at the dorms; money is not something you should be throwing around. I, however, am well off with my jobs. Don't worry."

Despite his reassurance, Y/n couldn't shake off the feeling of indebtedness. "I just feel bad that you're doing all this for me," she confessed, her sincerity evident in her eyes.

"If you want to so badly, you can pay next time," Jonathan suggested, a playful smirk playing on his lips.

"I'll hold you to that," Y/n responded with a smile, the lighthearted banter momentarily easing the weight of gratitude she felt. The easy camaraderie between them made the ordinary act of sharing a meal feel like an extraordinary moment.

She appreciated the effortless flow of their conversation, finding an unexpected camaraderie with Jonathan. The notion of befriending a professor initially seemed peculiar, but with each passing moment, it felt surprisingly natural. Their discussions swayed seamlessly between topics, and Y/n discovered a side of Jonathan beyond the classroom, making her appreciate him not just as an educator but as a genuinely pleasant individual.

As the morning sunlight streamed through the diner's windows, casting a warm glow on their table, Y/n couldn't help but marvel at the ease with which they interacted. The atmosphere was friendly and unburdened by the typical student-teacher dynamic. In that little diner booth, they were just two adults enjoying each other's company, forging a connection that went beyond the confines of academia.

The array of options on the menu presented Y/n with a delightful dilemma. The diner's atmosphere was lively yet intimate, with the aroma of brewing coffee and sizzling breakfast filling the air.

The waitress gracefully returned to their table, pen poised over her notepad. "What can I get for you two?" she inquired with a welcoming smile.

Jonathan was quick to respond, "I'll have a coffee and a breakfast bagel." His eyes then shifted to Y/n.

Feeling more on the sweet side, Y/n replied, "A berry smoothie and a brownie, please."

The waitress, attentive to details, followed up, "Would you like cream or yogurt with the brownie?"

"Yogurt, please," Y/n said.

The waitress jotted down their orders. "Is there anything else?" she asked, awaiting their final decisions.

"That'll be all," Jonathan confirmed, and Y/n nodded in agreement. With that, the waitress gracefully glided away, leaving them to resume their conversation in the cozy diner booth.

Jonathan chuckled at Y/n's choice, "A brownie at 8 in the morning?" he teased playfully.

"I know, it's a bit sweet," Y/n admitted, laughing along with him. "But treats like this are rare for me."

"Everyone deserves a morning indulgence now and then," Jonathan responded with a smile.

Their conversation continued to flow effortlessly, exchanging bits of information about their lives, particularly revolving around university.

Around 10 minutes later, the waitress returned with their orders. "Here you go," she said, placing the plates in front of them.

"Thank you," Y/n expressed her gratitude, eagerly eyeing the delicious spread in front of her.

As the waitress left, Y/n took a moment to appreciate the aroma of the coffee and the vibrant colors of her berry smoothie. Jonathan sipped his coffee and leaned back, a relaxed smile on his face. The atmosphere was comfortable, the diner buzzing with the low hum of conversations and the clinking of cutlery.

Jonathan leaned forward, taking ahold of his bagel, a faint smile on his face. "I hope you don't mind the detour for breakfast. It's good to start a day like this every once in a while."

Y/n chuckled, feeling the ease of their interaction. "Not at all. It's a pleasant surprise, actually. I didn't expect today to begin like this."

Jonathan nodded. "Well, sometimes it's the unexpected moments that make the day memorable."

Jonathan took a sip of his coffee before speaking, "So, tell me more about your interest in psychology. What drew you to the field?"

Y/n took a moment to savor her smoothie before answering, "I've always been fascinated by the human mind and how it works. It's like this intricate puzzle, and psychology helps me unravel its complexities. Plus, the idea of helping people through understanding their thoughts and behaviors would also be pretty cool."

Jonathan nodded, "It's a noble pursuit. Psychology has the power to make a significant impact on individuals' lives. Do you have any specific areas within psychology that you find most intriguing?"

“I won’t lie, Arkham has always been an interest of mine. Not necessarily the famous rogues that are constantly escaping, but the more troubled souls that had a rough start,” Y/n shared.

“Not so interested in the Joker then?” Jonathan teased.

“God no,” Y/n responded.

Jonathan chuckled, "Can't blame you there. The Joker is a whole different level of chaos."

Y/n took a sip of her berry smoothie, enjoying the refreshing taste. "But seriously, the idea of helping those who are struggling mentally, especially the ones society tends to overlook, that's where I want to make a difference."

Jonathan nodded, sipping his coffee. "Mental health is often stigmatized, and people don't realize the impact it has on individuals and society as a whole. Your dedication to understanding and helping is commendable."

The conversation continued, effortlessly weaving between casual banter and more serious topics. The comfortable atmosphere of the diner, coupled with Jonathan's easygoing nature, made Y/n feel at ease discussing her aspirations.

As they drove toward Arkham, Jonathan and Y/n continued their conversation, Jonathan sharing about the intricate workings of the human mind. The cityscape changed as they delved deeper into the Narrows, with its dodgy alleyways and poorly lit streets, which even in the dark made it difficult to see, creating an atmosphere of unease. The air felt heavy, carrying the weight of the stories locked within the walls of Arkham Asylum.

Jonathan glanced at Y/n. "It's a unique place, Arkham," he remarked, his eyes focused on the road ahead.

Y/n couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and trepidation. The legendary reputation of Arkham Asylum had always fueled her curiosity, and now, with the prospect of exploring its mysteries, she couldn't contain her anticipation.

Securing a parking spot proved effortless in the vast, desolate parking lot. Stepping out of the car, Y/n gazed up at the imposing structure – a stone fortress that housed some of Gotham's most notorious criminals. Jonathan, an experienced guide in this ominous environment, approached her and led the way inside.

With a swift display of his ID, Jonathan gained entry, Y/n following suit without a single question. He grabbed a visitor badge for her before securing it around her neck.

The echoing clang of the heavy metal door closing behind them filled the entrance hall. The dimly lit corridor stretched ahead, lined with security personnel stationed at various checkpoints. The cold, sterile air of the facility sent shivers down Y/n's spine as she adjusted the visitor badge Jonathan handed her.

The corridor seemed to wind endlessly, each turn revealing another layer of security. Jonathan led her through the labyrinthine structure, his familiarity with the layout evident. The occasional distant echoes of unsettling sounds from within the facility heightened the tension in the air.

As they passed by the barred cells, Y/n couldn't help but steal glances into the shadows, catching glimpses of faces that seemed to hold a myriad of stories. The residents of Arkham Asylum, each with their own struggles and torments, observed the visitors with a mix of curiosity and detachment.

Jonathan explained the varying levels of security, detailing the procedures in place to ensure the safety of both staff and visitors. Y/n absorbed the information with a mix of fascination and a growing sense of apprehension. The weight of being surrounded by some of Gotham's most troubled souls pressed down on her.

They eventually reached a central area, a hub of activity where staff members bustled about their duties. Y/n observed the dynamics, the interplay between doctors, guards, and the patients who moved within the confines of their respective spaces. The atmosphere was a blend of tension and routine.

Approaching a door, Jonathan turned the doorknob, revealing the door marked with his name – Dr. Crane. The office, his domain, welcomed them, and Jonathan efficiently navigated around his desk to retrieve a couple of files.

Jonathan gathered the necessary files and responded, "Just a regular in-patient for the first session, but the second might be less conventional."

"Will they be okay with me being present?" Y/n asked.

"Well, if you're concerned, you can always ask them. Consent is important," Jonathan replied.

"Thank you," Y/n expressed her gratitude.

Jonathan guided them through the dimly lit halls of Arkham, arriving at the room where the first session would take place. They waited at the door, observing the tense atmosphere. Soon, a guard led a patient down the corridor, and from Jonathan's focused gaze, Y/n assumed this was the individual they were there to see.

"Mr. Wilson, you seem to be in good spirits today," Jonathan remarked, his tone carrying a sense of monotony.

“Mhmm,” Mr. Wilson responded, his eyes wandering around the hallway.

“I have a student from Gotham University joining us today. She's here to observe the session. Would that be acceptable to you?” Jonathan inquired.

Mr. Wilson finally looked up, his gaze meeting Y/n's. It appeared as though he hadn't encountered a woman in years. After a moment's contemplation, he nodded slowly.

“Great,” Jonathan said, holding the door open for everyone to enter the room.

The room was clinical, with pale walls and minimal furniture. Jonathan guided Y/n to a seat near the back, gesturing for her to take a comfortable position. Mr. Wilson settled into a chair across from Jonathan's desk.

As the session began, Jonathan engaged Mr. Wilson in conversation, discussing various topics. Y/n observed the interaction closely, trying to discern the nuances of the therapy process. She noted the controlled detachment in Jonathan's demeanor, a stark contrast to the patient's erratic and paranoid behavior.

Throughout the session, Y/n was captivated by the exchanges between therapist and patient. Mr. Wilson's responses were often fragmented and disjointed, revealing the complexity of his mental state. Jonathan navigated the conversation with finesse, probing gently into sensitive areas while maintaining an air of professionalism.

As the session concluded, Jonathan thanked Mr. Wilson for his time, and the patient was escorted back to his room by a guard. Jonathan turned his attention to Y/n, who had been silently observing.

“What did you think?” he asked, his expression betraying a genuine interest in her perspective.

“You're a really good doctor,” Y/n chuckled softly.

"I appreciate that," Jonathan replied modestly. "It's crucial to establish trust and understanding with the patients here. Each case requires a unique approach."

Y/n nodded in agreement, absorbing the gravity of the therapy session she had witnessed. Jonathan guided her out of the room, and they continued to explore different areas of Arkham, with Jonathan sharing insights into his work and the challenges he faced.

As they walked through the eerie corridors, Y/n couldn't help but feel a mixture of fascination and trepidation. Arkham held a dark allure, and she marveled at the intricate dance between the staff and the troubled individuals confined within its walls.

"So, your next patient?" Y/n inquired curiously.

"I'm sure you've heard of Edward Nigma, otherwise known as the Riddler—a real piece of work, that one," Jonathan remarked.

Y/n felt her heart skip a beat. The Riddler, notorious for creating horrifying traps and puzzels for his victims.

"I'm assuming you're going to sit out on that one?" Jonathan asked.

"Yes, please," Y/n replied.

Jonathan chuckled, understanding her hesitation. "Not a fan of riddles, I take it?"

Y/n smiled nervously. "Let's just say I prefer my challenges to be in textbooks, not in the form of elaborate mind games that may or may not get me killed."

"Well, you're not alone in that sentiment," Jonathan assured her. "Nigma is... unique, to say the least. We'll proceed cautiously, and you can observe from the safety of the mirrored room."

They continued down the hall, passing by cells where other inmates were confined. Each face carried its own story, and the air was thick with an unsettling atmosphere.

As they approached the next room, a heavy door with a small window, Jonathan peered inside. "Edward, good afternoon."

The Riddler, a man with sharp features and an air of arrogance, looked up from his seated position. "Crane, always punctual. Who's this?" He nodded toward Y/n.

"Edward, meet Y/n, a psychology student from Gotham University. She's here to observe our sessions," Jonathan explained.

The Riddler's eyes narrowed as he examined Y/n. "Ah, another curious mind seeking the secrets of the human psyche. Fascinating."

As they entered, Nigma looked up, his eyes locking onto Y/n through the window. A sly smile crossed his face. "Are you here to solve my riddles?"

"She'll just be observing," Jonathan explained, gesturing towards the second room—the observation room.

Y/n's discomfort grew at the Riddlers staring, but she managed a polite nod. Jonathan guided her to the observation room, assuring her of the safety measures in place before going in to talk with Nigma.

From behind the one-way mirror, Y/n observed the intricate dance of intellect between Jonathan and the enigmatic Riddler, realizing that the challenges in the academic world seemed trivial compared to the complexities of Arkham Asylum.

The atmosphere grew more uncomfortable, and Y/n felt a chill run down her spine. She could tell Jonathan was reaching his limit with Edward's antics, his patience visibly waning.

"Riddle me this... how much does the Doll behind the window know?" Edward provocatively inquired, locking eyes with her.

Edward, ever the provocateur, threw a cryptic remark Jonathan’s way, using the unsettling nickname "Doll." She couldn’t understand how he knew where she was behind the window, considering it was a mirror from his side, but he was looking right at her.

Jonathan's reaction was subtle but telling. A momentary pause in his movements, a flash of irritation across his face, and then he composed himself. "My, my, getting lousy with the riddles, are we?" he retorted, his tone laced with thinly veiled frustration.

Edward, undeterred, pressed on, "Then let me ask a question..Why did you really bring her here?...Does she know about Scarecrow?" His tone held a hint of malevolence, making Y/n acutely aware of the dangers potentially surrounding her.

Jonathan decided that enough was enough. "That's it for today, I believe," he declared, swiftly closing his file and rising from his seat.

Edward, seemingly amused by the exchange, reclined in his chair, his laughter lingering as the guard escorted him out of the room. Jonathan approached Y/n, his expression a mix of exhaustion and determination.

Even after that chilling session, Y/n found herself increasingly drawn to the complexities of mental health and the delicate art of psychiatric treatment. As the last session concluded, Jonathan silently walked her back to his office, both seemingly lost in their own thoughts.

Packing away his last thing, Jonathan moved over to Y/n, “Come on…” Jonathan's voice broke the quiet, quietly guiding her out of Arkham, his hand resting on the small of her back.

Reaching his car, Jonathan moved to her side first, holding the door open for her.

"I hope this was an insightful experience for you," he remarked, opening the door for her.

"Absolutely," Y/n replied. "Thank you for the opportunity, Jonathan." She hopped into the car, and Jonathan closed the door behind her before taking his place in the driver's seat.

The day at Arkham had left a lasting impression on Y/n, sparking a newfound interest in the intricacies of the human mind and the challenges faced by those dedicated to healing it.

The occasional streetlight cast shadows across his face as she looked at him from her side. However, her mind couldn't shake the lingering questions from the Riddler's cryptic words at the end of the session. Did Jonathan have another motive for bringing her to Arkham? And what was he referring to with Scarecrow? What was Scarecrow, and what role did Jonathan play in it? The mysteries lingered, casting a shadow on the experience that, despite its profound impact, left Y/n with a sense of curiosity and unanswered questions.

She hadn’t even noticed Jonathan pulling up in front of the University dorms. It took a moment for her to realize that they had arrived, and Jonathan's gesture of opening the car door for her snapped her out of her daydream.

Jonathan opened her door and extended his hand to help her. "Thank you," she expressed meekly as she accepted his assistance.

“Don’t mention it...” Jonathan replied, a subtle smile on his lips.

“...You’ve been so kind to me, Jonathan. I really appreciate it. I honestly couldn't thank you enough,” Y/n conveyed, looking up at him.

“I’m just giving you what you deserve,” Jonathan responded, a warm smile still playing on his lips.

Jonathan walked her to the stairs and as Y/n stood by the entrance of the dorms, she hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was appropriate to ask what had been lingering in her mind.

"Jonathan," she began, "about what the Riddler mentioned... Scarecrow, and your motive for bringing me to Arkham. Is there something more I should know?"

Jonathan's expression shifted ever so slightly, and for a moment, it seemed like he was carefully choosing his words. He leaned against the car, a thoughtful gaze in his eyes.

"The Riddler likes to play games with words," Jonathan began, "and sometimes, the less you know, the safer you are. It's part of Arkham's peculiar charm."

Y/n nodded, understanding that some things might be better left untouched. "Okay..Thank you, Jonathan."

He nodded in return, a sense of mystery lingering in the air. "See you Monday."

With a final nod and a friendly smile, Y/n made her way into the dorms, the encounter at Arkham echoing in her mind.

Monday came around, and Y/n hadn’t stopped thinking about her indirect encounter with the Riddler. The weekend had been filled with a mixture of fascination and apprehension. She went about her usual classes, but the questions surrounding Jonathan's involvement with the Riddler and the cryptic mention of Scarecrow lingered in her mind.

As she entered Professor Crane's psychology class, she couldn't help but wonder if he would address anything related to their visit to Arkham. The room filled with students chatting, the usual buzz before the lecture, but Y/n found herself scanning the room for any signs from Professor Crane.

The door to the classroom swung open, and in walked Professor Crane, looking as composed as ever. He started the class without acknowledging Y/n at all, diving into the lecture material as if it were any other day. Y/n's curiosity grew, but she decided against pressing further, at least during class hours.

After the lecture, as students filed out of the room, Y/n lingered, waiting for the opportune moment to approach Professor Crane. Once the room emptied, she approached his desk.

"Professor Crane," she began, "I've been thinking about our visit to Arkham. I know I shouldn’t, but I haven’t stop thinking about what the Riddler was talking about?"

Professor Crane looked at her, his gaze unreadable for a moment. Then, he sighed, realizing her curiosity wasn't easily deterred.

"Y/n," he started, "Arkham is filled with various personalities, each with their own stories. The Riddler is among many. Some tales are better left in the shadows. Focus on your studies and leave the mysteries of Arkham where they belong."

It was a cryptic response that left Y/n with more questions than answers. She felt unsettled in the way Jonathan was dismissing it so easily.

Jonathan sighed, observing her detachment. "Just forget about it, Nigma is in Arkham for a reason. Don’t take what he says seriously... He’s just trying to mess with your head," Jonathan said.

Y/n nodded. "Okay... sorry about that. I won’t ask again."

"No need to apologize," Jonathan replied, his eyes showing a hint of understanding.

“I’ll be off now,” Y/n said, sensing a slight awkwardness in the air.

“You don’t want to stay?” Jonathan asked, his expression softening.

“Uh... would you like me to?” Y/n inquired, feeling a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty.

“Only if you wish to,” Jonathan said, leaving the decision up to her. The room held a lingering tension, a silent invitation for more conversation or perhaps a shared moment of quiet reflection.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, considering the unspoken offer. Eventually, she decided to stay.

"I don't mind staying for a bit," she said, offering a tentative smile.

Jonathan gestured toward one of the chairs in his office. "Please, have a seat."

As they settled into a conversation about various topics, the atmosphere became more relaxed. Y/n found herself opening up to Jonathan about her experiences and interests, and he reciprocated by sharing anecdotes from his work at Arkham. The initial professional boundaries started to blur, and a genuine connection began to form between them. It was an unexpected and refreshing turn of events for Y/n, adding a new layer to her academic journey.

In the following weeks, Y/n continued to attend Jonathan's office hours, not just for academic assistance but also for the engaging conversations they shared. Their discussions spanned beyond the realm of psychology, delving into personal stories, interests, and even occasional light banter.

As the semester progressed, Y/n found herself becoming more captivated by both the subject matter and her professor's unique approach to teaching. Jonathan's guidance extended beyond the classroom, as he recommended additional readings and shared insights that went beyond the standard curriculum.

The day that followed unfolded in a way Y/n hadn't anticipated. Making her way into Jonathan’s office for their customary daily discussions, she greeted him with a warm "Hiya," bearing a takeaway tray adorned with a coffee and a smoothie – their usual indulgences.

"Evening, Dear," Jonathan reciprocated, his smile adding a touch of warmth to the comfortable atmosphere of his office.

Choosing the inviting couch over the formality of the desk, Y/n settled in, and Jonathan joined her after finishing up his paperwork. The shift in seating only enhanced the coziness, turning their daily talks into a more intimate and relaxed exchange. Y/n handed the cup of coffee to Jonathan, a small gesture in their routine. She indulged in the refreshing sips of her smoothie as Jonathan accepted the coffee.

"Thank you, my Dear," he expressed with a grateful smile.

"Anytime," Y/n responded, the casual exchange feeling comforting.

Sipping her smoothie, she rested her head on the back of the couch, facing Jonathan.

"..I know I said I wouldn't ask again, but.. I just can't shake off what the Riddler was saying..back at Arkham" Y/n said, slowly looking up at Jonathan.

Jonathan huffed, a hint of frustration showing in his expression. "What the Riddler said is not important," he dismissed.

Y/n sat back up, "I know that's not true. I don't understand why you can't just tell—" Y/n was abruptly cut off.

"There's nothing to talk about!" Jonathan suddenly snapped.

The sudden outburst startled Y/n, witnessing a side of Jonathan she wasn’t used to being directed at her. She could feel the tension in the air. Jonathan, realizing his sharp reaction, sighed. Removing his glasses, he rubbed his face with his hand, frustrated.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm just... trying to protect you, okay?" Jonathan explained, his voice softer, revealing an undercurrent of concern.

"..How is this possibly protecting me? The Riddler was taking about me... I need to know," Y/n insisted. She realized she had pushed too far, but this seemed like something serious that Jonathan was intentionally keeping from her.

Jonathan stood up slowly and approached his office door. Y/n heard the distinct sound of the lock clicking, sending fearful shivers through her body.

"What I am about to tell you cannot leave this room," Jonathan stated with a gravity that heightened Y/n's anxiety.

As Jonathan turned around to face her, setting his coffee down, he sighed and began tapping his feet with his hands on his hips—an unusual display of nervousness. Y/n, taken aback, had never seen Jonathan appear so uneasy.

"I will admit, Y/n, the feelings I have for you are not entirely appropriate," Jonathan confessed, avoiding direct eye contact.

Y/n let out a shaky breath. "What?"

"The real reason I brought you to Arkham was to make you feel special... to show off, even," Jonathan revealed.

Y/n's mind raced back to the Riddler's insinuations about Jonathan's potential ulterior motives for bringing her to Arkham. The revelation left her bewildered and unsure of how to respond.

Y/n tried to push aside Jonathan's unsettling confession, focusing on the second thing the Riddler had mentioned. "So what is Scarecrow?" Y/n inquired, curiosity driving her to seek answers.

She could sense Jonathan's breath hitch. "Scarecrow... is an individual with a fascination for fear," Jonathan explained, his gaze fixed on the ground, hands still on his hips. "I'm sure you've been hearing about the recent patients being admitted to Arkham with strange yet similar symptoms of hallucinations."

"So what does this individual have to do with me?" Y/n pressed further.

"Let's just say... his fascination doesn't stop there," Jonathan replied cryptically.

With each passing moment, Y/n's tension heightened. "Jonathan... who is Scarecrow?" she asked nervously.

"I think you already know," Jonathan responded, finally meeting Y/n's gaze with an intensity that sent a chill down her spine.

Y/n found it difficult to catch her breath as her eyes darted around the room. Setting the forgotten smoothie on the ground beside the couch, Y/n stood up.

"I should probably go," Y/n attempted to make a quick exit past Jonathan, only to be halted by his firm grip on her arm.

The touch made her jolt, but his grasp didn't loosen. "I can't let you leave," Jonathan declared.

"P-please, I promise I won't say anything," Y/n pleaded, feeling tears welling up in her eyes.

"How do I know that?" Jonathan questioned.

Her blood ran cold. "I promise you, I'll do anything," Y/n begged.

Jonathan looked at her curiously. "Anything?"

Y/n gazed at him, her stomach jumping. Acting on an impulse she couldn't quite comprehend, she pulled his face down to hers and kissed him. His eyes widened in shock, but the desperation in the air forced him to give in.

Jonathan couldn't resist, kissing her with a passion he had suppressed for months. His hands moved to Y/n's waist, pulling her closer. In that moment, Y/n thought, this was the perfect distraction.

She slowly moved one of her hands behind her, fumbling for the doorknob. Finally getting a firm grasp on it, she slowly turned the knob to open the door. However, luck was not on her side when the lock clicked loudly, the sound echoing in the room. Her heart dropped, and Jonathan's eyes shot open. Just as Y/n was about to hastily open the door, Jonathan pushed her back, causing her to scream as her body slammed against the door, keeping it firmly closed. Harshly grabbing her arms, he held them above her head.

He stared down at her as tears streamed down her face. "Trying to distract me, huh?" Jonathan said, an evil glint in his eye.

Y/n tried to yank her hands out of his grip, but it proved impossible given the strength he had over her.

"Please, Jonathan! You can't do this!" Y/n cried.

Jonathan brought his face closer to hers, she turned her head in fear, closing her eyes tightly. Jonathan dragged his nose up her neck, breathing against her skin. "I'll do what is necessary," he whispered.

In a desperate attempt, she brought her foot up, trying to stomp on his foot, but that only seemed to anger him more. Jonathan aggressively threw her around and shoved her over his desk, holding her down by her hands again. However, this time, he stood between her legs, preventing her from using them.

Y/n whimpered beneath him, but he remained unyielding. "I never wanted this to happen, but you don't leave me much of a choice," Jonathan spoke through gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry, I'll be nice, but you have to let me go," Y/n pleaded.

"That's not going to happen, my Dear," Jonathan said.

Before Y/n could react, Jonathan swiftly brought his sleeve-covered wrist up to her face, a faint hiss preceding the release of a mysterious puff of gas. Y/n's immediate response was a piercing scream as the unexpected spray hit her face, sending shivers down her spine. The gas had an acrid smell, and as she inhaled, an unsettling sensation crept over her. The world around her started to warp and distort, as if reality itself was bending to the whims of her deepest fears.

Y/n's vision blurred, and her surroundings became an eerie dreamscape. The once-familiar office now transformed into a haunting image. Jonathan's figure morphed, his features elongating and contorting, creating a grotesque visage that sent chills down Y/n's spine.

A sense of dread settled over her, intensifying with every passing moment. As the fear gas took hold, Y/n felt a chilling coldness crawl up her spine. Her body became increasingly heavy, and the room seemed to close in on her, suffocating her in a nightmarish reality. The longer she stared at Jonathan, the more the lines between nightmare and reality blurred, until the gas finally overwhelmed her. Y/n's consciousness waned, slipping into the abyss of her deepest anxieties, and the world around her faded to black as she succumbed to unconsciousness.

Waking up was excruciating, her head pounding with unbearable intensity. Fear pulsed through her, her heart racing in tandem with the throbbing ache in her temples. As she reluctantly opened her eyes, a disorienting mix of darkness and blinding light assaulted her senses. Surveying her surroundings only deepened her confusion; it appeared as though she had awakened in some kind of forest, a surreal landscape that contradicted Gotham's urban reality. Yet, her vision played tricks on her, rendering it impossible to discern between what was real and what was illusion.

“It’s good to see you’re awake, my Dear,” a voice echoed beside her.

Startled, she turned towards the voice, recognizing it but struggling to reconcile the distorted tones with its origin. The person wore a burlap mask, concealing their identity.

“J-Jonathan,” Y/n stammered, feeling a profound sense of weakness.

“I’m giving you a chance to run,” Jonathan declared.

Confused and disoriented, Y/n attempted to question him, but Jonathan interrupted her.

“I'll give you a 30 seconds headstart. If I can't find you, I’ll leave you alone. But if I catch you…I won’t let you go,” he ominously proclaimed.

“J-Jonathan, I can barely see!” Y/n cried.

“Get up, Y/n,” Jonathan commanded.

“Jonath-”

“Get. Up.”

His authoritative tone sent shivers down Y/n's spine. Trembling, she maneuvered to kneel on her knees, only to be met with a searing pain radiating from her ankles. A guttural scream escaped her lips as she gazed down, her vision still distorted. Through the haze, she discerned the ghastly reality – two bells, meticulously sewn into her flesh on either side of her ankles. The skin threaded through them, attempting to heal around the foreign objects. The grotesque sight made her stomach churn, and she screamed in sheer horror.

“What did you do to me! My fucking feet! You fucking bitch!” Y/n cried, her voice filled with rage and terror as she screamed at Jonathan.

He sighed before grabbing her by the arm roughly and pulling her to her feet. She sobbed, attempting to push Jonathan away, but his strength prevailed, keeping her on her unsteady feet.

“Listen, Y/n... I’ll give you a minute to get ready, but after that, you have to run... I don’t want to hurt you,” Jonathan said, his voice carrying an unsettling mix of calm and sincerity.

“You fucking liar! You put bells on my fucking feet! You gassed me! You have no fucking intentions of letting me go!” Y/n tried shoving Jonathan, her desperation evident, but his unwavering strength proved impossible.

Y/n felt a mix of fear and desperation as the distorted voice of Jonathan haunted her in the dark forest. The minute he gave her felt like an eternity, her mind racing with confusion and terror. She could barely comprehend what had happened to her – the bells on her feet, the agonizing pain, the disorienting surroundings.

As the seconds ticked away, Y/n attempted to collect herself. She fumbled to her feet, the pain shooting through her legs with each movement. She desperately wiped away her tears, trying to focus on her surroundings. The distorted voices in her head urged her to find a way out, to escape from this nightmare.

"Jonathan, please!" she pleaded, her voice shaky and weak.

But Jonathan remained silent, hidden behind the burlap mask, his presence lingering in the shadows. The ominous silence amplified Y/n's anxiety as the countdown continued. The forest seemed to close in on her, each shadow playing tricks on her mind.

As Y/n continued to struggle against Jonathan's grip, he finally let her go. She stumbled backward, her vision still blurry and disoriented. Tears streamed down her face as she realized the gravity of her situation.

“Your minute is up, Y/n,” Jonathan said coldly.

Panicking, Y/n attempted to move, but the pain in her ankles was excruciating. The bells on her feet jingled with each step, amplifying her fear. She could barely see the distorted figures of trees around her, unsure of where to go.

Jonathan's distorted voice echoed, “Run, Y/n. Run if you want to escape.”

With her heart pounding in her ears, Y/n turned around and limped forward, desperately trying to navigate the nightmarish forest. The fear of being caught and the pain in her feet merged into a tormenting symphony.

Every step felt like agony, the pain from her ankles shooting through her with every move. Determined, Y/n forced herself to pick up the pace, only to be met with the relentless jingle of the bells on her feet, echoing through the unsettling silence of the distorted forest. Her screams of frustration reverberated, a desperate attempt to drown out the haunting sound. Uncertain of the reality around her, Y/n pushed herself forward, driven by the primal instinct to escape from the unknown horrors lurking in the shadows.

The echoing chime of the bells attached to her feet seemed to resonate through the eerie forest, an ominous soundtrack to her desperate flight. Despite the seemingly impossible task of escaping undetected, Y/n pressed on, fueled by fear and rage.

Tears streamed down her face as she navigated the distorted landscape, grappling with the stark contrast between the professor she respected and this nightmarish pursuer. Regret and self-blame consumed her thoughts as she questioned whether she had unknowingly unlocked a darker side of Jonathan Crane or if this twisted game had been his true nature all along.

As the forest blurred around her, Y/n couldn't gauge how much time had passed, but the feeling of being hunted intensified with every breath.

The shadows danced around her, but Y/n had more pressing concerns. The closest forest was on the outskirts of Gotham, and by her knowlegde, this wasn’t it. The trees surrounding her didn't match the familiar landscape. Adding to the surreal experience, the echoing sounds of concrete beneath her feet contradicted the visual illusions that played out around her.

Although the effects of the gas were gradually diminishing, the horror lingered. Trees transformed into buildings, and lampposts seemed to sprout from the ground, creating a nightmarish dreamscape that defied the logic of Gotham's familiar streets.

Navigating the unnaturally morphing terrain was challenging on its own, but the addition of bells sewn to her ankles introduced a cruel twist to Y/n's desperate attempt to escape. A sharp turn around a building resulted in the bells grazing against a rough surface, tearing at her delicate skin. Agonizing pain shot up her legs, forcing her to collapse in sheer torment. A cry of pain escaped her lips, quickly stifled in the realization that Jonathan could be lurking anywhere, ears attuned to her distress.

As she sat on the ground, cradling her injured foot, hot tears streamed down her face. The sight of her foot revealed a troubling scene – it was red, irritated, and blood slowly trickled to the ground. Cursing under her breath, she was foolishly leaving a trail of breadcrumbs, marking her path for Jonathan to follow.

Defeated and desperate, Y/n closed her eyes, surrendering to the overwhelming hopelessness that enveloped her. Resting her head against the wall behind her, she weeped. She damned from the very beginning. Jonathan's idea of escape left her grappling with uncertainty – was his definition of ‘escape’ merely leaving this immediate area, contacting the police, or leaving Gotham altogether? Didn’t matter, she didn’t know.

Even if Y/n managed to ‘escape’, she knew all too well that Jonathan wouldn't simply let her be. Having spent months in his company, she had learned that determination and obsession defined him. The prospect of escaping his clutches seemed increasingly elusive, leaving Y/n trapped in a sinister game of hide and seek.

Refusing to succumb to hopelessness against the wall, Y/n gathered her remaining strength. She couldn't accept this as the end; she needed to keep going. Rising to her feet with deliberate determination, she carried on moving. Instead of running, which would only amplify the bells' noise and her exhaustion, Y/n pressed on with a steady walk. She was determined not to let Jonathan's twisted game break her spirit.

Undoubtedly, the blood marked her path, but Y/n had no other choice. Pressing forward was her only option. The effects of the gas seemed to have worn off, revealing a less distorted reality, albeit no less grim. She recognized that she was now in the Narrows, but the specific location remained a mystery.

As she moved cautiously ahead, a voice, dripping with malevolence, echoed from behind her. "I see my Dear has hurt herself..." Her blood ran cold. She didn't need to turn around to know she was in deep trouble.

The tears flowed freely down Y/n's face. "Why are you doing this?"

Jonathan remained silent, a chilling stillness in the air. He took a step forward, and instinctively, she took one back.

"Please..."

Suddenly, Jonathan lunged forward, catching her off guard. Y/n had no time to react as he tackled her to the ground, his weight pinning her down. She screamed and thrashed, the muffled sounds of her distress lost in the indifferent hum of Gotham's background noise. People in nearby buildings likely heard, but in a city like Gotham, such cries often went unanswered.

"Like a doe that's been shot," Jonathan spoke in a low, unsettling tone near her ear.

A syringe emerged from his pocket, and panic surged through her. She squirmed and fought, but his hold was unyielding. The needle pierced her upper thigh, and a sudden rush of paralysis coursed through her body. As consciousness waned, she heard Jonathan's remorseful voice.

"I'm sorry, Y/n," he uttered, holding her captive on the unforgiving ground.

"I thought you were my friend.." Y/n cried, her voice echoing in the desolation of the Narrows.

The world around Y/n blurred as the drug took effect, robbing her of control over her own body. Jonathan's mask became an indistinct smudge, but his unsettling presence still lingered. The last words she heard before succumbing to unconsciousness were Jonathan's remorseful apology, leaving her with a sense of betrayal and a haunting question: What had she done to deserve this? -

A/N: I think it's pretty clear by now I have a chasing(Prey/Predator) kink🧍‍♀️I don't know about you guys, but I want that adrenaline rush of being chased by an obsessive man 😫🤚 Thank you for reading and I hoped you enjoyed it. My requests are open for feel free to request 💚

#batman #the dark knight #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane #jonathan crane fanfic #dark!jonathan crane #scarecrow #professor crane #dr crane #professor crane x reader #professor jonathan crane #cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy x reader #Dark!Jonathan Crane #Batman scarecrow #dark!scarecrow

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hyperactive-rogue · 5 months

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Saw Crane wearing flowers in Gotham War and had to draw it. Also I forgot that his birthday was a few days ago uhhh happy late birthday girl! My fav cottagecore enjoyer (also yeah the colors of chibi Crane on the right were color picked from the cottagecore lesbian flag)

#my art #my post #cw eye contact #dc scarecrow #scarecrow dc #scarecrow batman #scarecrow #jonathan crane #dr crane #fear state #gotham war #batman rogues #rogues gallery #batman fanart #dc #dc comics #dc fanart #batman #artists on tumblr

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glorianell · 2 months

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Scarecrow (29.11.23)

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darlingsfandom · 7 months

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Sucker!

Summary: Reader is constantly eating a sucker in Dr. cranes class because why not ?? That's literally the plot.

Warnings: oral (blowjob)

"And while we explore more into the idea of what these phobias and fears .... pardon me I seem to be a bit distracted..." Dr. Crane looked in your direction as you pulled your sucker from your lips with a loud pop. Your cheeks went red as you tucked some hair behind your ear.

"I'm sorry doctor" You fluttered your eyelashes as he cleared his throat before walking over to you with a trash can and made you drop the treat into it. A pout spread on your lips as you tossed it.

"From this moment on... no more sweets in my class, that goes for everyone!" He put the can back where it was as you sat with the pout. "Now back to what I was saying about diving deeper into Phobias..."

You sighed and leaned into your desk before putting the tip of your pencil in your mouth. Crane looked in your direction again to now see you had something else in your mouth. He stroked the bridge of his nose before taking off his glasses. "pardon me class but I need to call it a night, you're free to leave and we can continue this next week . Thank you!" He waved everyone off with his hand before slumping into his chair only to look in your direction. You were gathering everything into your bag before you pulled out another sucker, unwrapped it and put it in your mouth.

"Do tell me dear, do you have an oral fixation. Can you not keep your mind clear unless you keep that pretty mouth wrapped around something? You know at first I didn't mind the suckers ... I really didn't." Crane set his glasses down on his desk before he walked up to you and placed his hands on your desk. "But having you suck and slurp on them right in front of me the way you do. The way you bat those eyelashes and act like your innocent but deep down we both know it's a lie. Tell me the truth dear and don't even think about lying we both know I'll be able to tell." His nose rubbed against yours while you felt the puddle growing between your legs. "Do you have an oral fixation or..." His lips brushed against your ear .. "Do you want to suck my cock?" A quiet moan left your lips as you looked up into his eyes. You chest felt heavy, your thighs clenched together and you nodded slowly.

"Both." You mumbled a little before he grabbed your hand. His hand felt huge in yours while he walked with you into his office. He made sure to lock the door after flipping on the lights. Crane took you over to the leather couch , sat down and pulled you on to his lap. His hands cupped your face gently, his thumb rested against the corner of your lips only to disappear into your mouth a second later.

"What a good girl you are. Your oral fixation is strong." He watched you suck his thumb in awe as you slowly rocked your hips against his. "Tell me, have you thought about me before? Have you had the taboo idea of sucking your professors cock?" He raised an eyebrow while your cheeks turned the prettiest shade of pink.

"Yes Dr.Crane. I've had all the naughty ideas about you but it's wrong because you're older than me and I'm your student.... but sometimes what wrong feels right !" Your pretty lips curled into the sweetest smile while crane took you off his lap , put you on your knees in front of him and licked his lips .

"If it feels right , do it. It's only immoral because we think it is. But what's the problem Hmm ? I'm not married. Yes I'm probably double your age and your professor but you and I both know the semester is almost over and I'm not giving you an A because you sucked my cock which..." Crane snapped his fingers and pointed to his crotch . "Get to it! You've made me wait long enough." Your hands fondled with the zipper and pulled down his slacks along with his boxers. Your mouth hung open at the sight. His cock was a good seven inches , thick and red with precum dripping down the sides.

"See what you like doll? It's yours. Suck on it." You didn't have to be told twice. You sat perfectly on your knees with your hair over your shoulder as you leaned in and wrapped your lips around the head. Crane let out a soft groan as your warm wet mouth started sucking on the head as if it was one of your sweet treats. You relaxed your throat the best you could before you deep throated his cock until your spit spewed from the sides of your mouth as he gripped the back of your head pulling you by the roots of your hair . "that's it ! Sucking your professors fat cock! Everyone would think you're a whore if they seen you getting face fucked like this... my precum, your spit drooling down your chin and your pretty make up all messed up . What a proper cock whore. My cock whore aren't ?" Crane pulled you off and looked down to see the most beautiful sight, you on your reddened knees , the mix of spit and pre cum dribbled onto your chest with your lipstick smeared. "FUCK!" Crane cried out as he shot his cum onto your face and chest. "Shit, I'm sorry I couldn't help it. You look so beautiful." He stroked your cheek as he watched you scoop the cum with your fingers and eat it.

"It's okay Dr. Crane! Next time I can cum on your face." You gave him a playful wink as he pulled you onto the couch. Crane leaned in and gave you kiss. Not a sloppy one but a sweet one. "Oh trust me , there's going to be a next time and once this semester is over.... you and I are going to be seeing each other a lot more than twice a week." He ran his fingers through your hair before pulling you to his lip where you rubbed your wet pussy against his softened cock. "Hmm don't think I can wait that long professor! Need you to fuck me now and much more after that!" Crane gripped your hips. "Greedy girl, classes are only two more weeks. But since you need my cock so bad... might as well keep you in my office as my pet until then Hmm ?" You grinned ear to ear at the thought because truth be told the whole sucker thing was to get his attention and it worked .

#cillian x reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #dr crane #dr crane smut #johnathan crane #Johnathan crane smut #emsblurbs

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ninja-potato-shelby-solomons · 10 months

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#batman's little fucktoy #homicidal princess

#dr babygirl #dr jonathan crane #bruce wayne x jonathan crane #cillian murphy scarecrow #cillian murphy #dr crane #scarecrow

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sponker · 8 months

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DC Scarecrow - Jonathan Crane drawings

#batman #scarecrow #dc comics #jonathan crane #dr crane

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thedilfoccult · 3 months

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SUBJECT OF PERVERSION // DR>CRANE X READER

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Pairing | Jonathan Crane x Reader / Dr.Crane!Teacher x Student / Teacher x Student

Summary | Private, all girls boarding school is hell. A hormone fest mixed with underage activity and substances is the equation for disaster. To make matters worse, the new psychology teacher Dr.Crane is the topic for all girls perversions. His fixations have landed on none other than the exceeding grade, misbehaved, foul mouth student who hides herself in the corner of his classroom. With Y/N’s boarding room being on the first floor, it was an open invitation for his stalking, wanting to figure out each and every behavioural pattern she inhabited. With an attachment to the liquid courage, nights turned into days in which alcohol was drank. How Dr.Crane reacts to her intoxicated behaviour and mischief in his classroom leads to nothing but confessions of lust and actions of taboo.

Warnings | Disgusting mouth watering smut, age!gap (17/18 fem!reader x 39 Dr.Crane. I’m a dog for older men and I always have been, pls don’t read if a massive age gap freaks you or you find it offensive), stalker/pervy Dr.Crane, alcohol + cigs consumption. Just dirty filthy smut tbh. COMPLETELY fictional, maybe out of character? Just sexy Cillian in glasses & suit = authoritative figure. Power dynamic, dominant, forceful? Dr.Crane. Loss of virginity. Corrupting innocence, public-ish / risky £ex.

Notes | First published writing! I love relationship dynamics which are downright gross. A teacher x student and/or older man with a younger girl (myself) is more than a guilty pleasure. Situations that should most definitely not be taking place romantically or sexually is my most specialised writing topic. No one but me and my English teacher have read shit I’ve written, big scary for me but its anon so easier. Not expecting attention from this post or any of my writing tbh, just rotting away in my bed from depression and feel like this is the best I can do to start just doing something again. Judgement all welcome if any critic is felt, the more you hate the more it turns me on! (My father was NOT present.) I wanted to write something wrong, perverted, sexual and unseen in society. I love love love reading gross smut / fics so also if any suggestions come to mind with anything disturbing you’ve read, pleeeeassseee pass it along. Please enjoy!or don’t, I don’t really care. Mwah.

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“Who do you think the new teacher will be?” Rachel asks applying her sticky lipgloss through her heart shaped pocket mirror, smacking her lips together before snapping the mirror shut.

“Can’t be certain. Only freaks live in Gotham, they couldn’t of hired anyone good.” Y/N answers, curling the bottom of her plaid skirt between her fingers.

“It’s the fresh meat that counts. Maybe it’s a male” Rachel giggles biting her French tips.

“Like that would make a difference. Have you seen who lives in this city?” Eyebrows raised and bottom lip bitten, smirk growing. “I couldn’t be one to judge though, I’d even go as low as the joker. He’s kinda cute.” Y/N admits, causing Rachel and herself to burst into a laughing fit.

“I think the only freak here is you… I can’t blame you though, being locked up in our dorms in this fucking school is enough to drive any girl to a scar-faced psycho.” Rachel sighs in agreement.

“Shall we go? See who the new bore will be?”

Rachel stands up and reaches for Y/N’s hand, Y/N reaching out and standing with her. Linking arms, they make their way giggling and whispering all the way through the darkened halls to their psychology class, commentating on every other person passing them in the halls. With Y/N’s white shirt two sizes too big, a loose black tie that hung just below the third unbuttoned clasp and a skirt crinkled and fit to the size of a 12 year old, she was the face of trouble. Besides sneaking mass bulks of cigarettes in her luggage back to the dorms after each holiday at her parents house and breaking out to buy small bottles of vodka to entertain herself and Rachel each weekend, she was shockingly the brightest student in the final year of boarding school. The face of mischief, the mind of intelligence and the personality of a wild child, she was quite the topic of interest for her teachers. Constantly in the principles office or being called on, the only thing keeping her from getting expelled is her exceptional grades. Practically growing up in Gothams Boarding School, the faculty has become her family knowing her longer and more personally than her parents ever have. Truth was her family are loaded, spoilt and detached, not wanting to deal with Y/N’s antics as she hit her teen years, sending her away from Brooklyn to Gotham to show her truly how scary the ‘real’ world is. It’s completely backfired though, it’s given her the opportunity to truly explore how far she can break the boundaries, seeing just how much trouble she can get away with without taking it too far. Y/N has taken it too far, too many times. Drinking before school starts as Rachel and her blast music through the stereo as they untwist their hair from the overnight braids they left in, stuffing cigarettes in their push up bras to smoke in the staircase in between classes. Nobody has seemingly caught the pair yet, encouraging them to consume more and push the boundaries even further. They blame it up to boredom, lack of society and more importantly lack of testosterone.

—

Rachel guides the way to the doors of the classroom, peaking her head around the door that’s open ajar wanting to see who the new psychology teacher may be. A deep gasp escapes her lips as she snaps her head back to Y/N, jaw dropped and the sides of her lips in a slight upward curve.

“Y/N! It is a male… and he’s hot!” Another giggle leaving her lips as she practically screams her whispers.

“Shhhh, get out the way- let me see”

Low and behold, there he stood, a man with a razor sharp jawline and piercing blue eyes. Even from this distance, Y/N could see how cold they were. Opening the door slightly more to get a better look, the teacher is sat on the edge of his desk facing the classroom. He slowly directs his attention to the girl peaking her head in the classroom.

“Shit!” Y/N pulls back. “He saw me!” Shaking her hands frantically in embarrassment and guilt.

The two girls share a moment staring into each others eyes before beginning to squeal, excitedly jumping up and down.

Within seconds, their interaction is interrupted as the door swings open and the slim frame is standing in the doorway, glaring down at the pair of teenagers in annoyance through the glasses sat on his nose. Clearing his throat to get their attention, Y/N and Rachel stop in an instant and their eyes widen as their gaze lands on his face.

“If you are students in my class, I suggest you immediately take a seat inside. If not, I ask you kindly to keep walking and not disrupt those who actually are”. The sternness in his voice is close to threatening, almost daring you to say the wrong thing.

“Sorry sir” Y/N and Rachel say in unison, ducking there heads down and shuffling themselves inside. As Y/N passed him in the doorway, the scent of a deep cologne hit her nose. A scent she’s never smelt so up close before, masculine. Of course, being stuck in an all-girls boarding school it isn’t everyday she could smell the scent of a full grown man so close, so real. This sends shockwaves through her body, literally feeling the chemicals burst in her brain from the hormones being released from being so close to the opposite sex. Moving swiftly and as quietly as possible, Y/N finds a seat in the corner of the class, Rachel sitting eagerly placing herself next to her.

“Uh-Uh” The man at the front of the class says. “I don’t think so girls.” Shaking his index finger, he pauses and points directly at Y/N.

“You.” His finger drops to the very seat sat directly in front of his desk, in fact, the only empty seat left. “Front of the class, now please.” His eyes strictly stay on Y/N’s, waiting for her to move herself to her new seat. Disappointment seeped into his words, causing a wave of shame to run over her.

A heat prickled up Y/N’s neck and found itself onto her cheeks. It wasn’t the fact that a teacher had spoken to her in a slight tone in front of the class, oh god no. Much worse has happened by much scarier teachers. It was because it was a man. Who smelt nice. Who had cheekbones that could slice marble and eyes that pierced your soul. As she dragged herself off the desk, taking his words seriously, her feet barely leaving the ground and she walked to the front of the class. Luckily, no other students seemingly cared for the exchange, too busy chatting amongst themselves to notice Y/N getting a speaking to yet again. His eyes grazed over her legs as she walked up to the seat, taking in the exposed skin and landing ever so slightly on the buttons undone on her chest. His eyes seemingly bored but his mouth twirling into a half smirk. Almost as if he had laser beams coming out his iris’s, the heat spread like wildfire down her body to her core, the contact of his eyes felt as if he was eating her alive. Slumping into the desk and covering herself with her backpack, she gripped the cotton attempting to squeeze some of her embarrassment out. His eyes were glued to her the whole time as he slowly slid his hands in his pockets and took strides over to her desk.

“and your name is?” His hands slid back out and placed them both at either ends of the desk, bending over in an attempt to intimidate her into feeling small. Of course, a psychological trick to assert his dominance with his body language. Easily fooled and susceptible to being manipulated by an older, educated man, Y/N’s face grew redder and redder with fear. Or was it arousal? The heat growing between her thighs as he stared down degradingly made it clear which it was. The physiological reaction to being so close to him took her aback, made her feel like a prude, wrong in her own skin. Obviously, Y/N had been around grown men before but they didn’t have those blue eyes that stared at her bare skin below her skirt, lingering on her chest with a smirk on their face.

Staring up with her eyes wide, crossing her legs over and attempting to squeeze the foreign feeling away, her small voice coating in the dryness of her mouth and ears filled with the beating of her heart.

“Y/N, sir” His facial expression dropped to a chuckle. “Hmm” A small hum fell from his lips and he stands back up and walks to the front. A sense of relief trickled down her chest and she felt like she could breath again.

“Quiet please” The class slowly calmed and turned their attention to the front.

“Right… my name is Dr.Crane. I am your new psychology teacher.” Dr.Crane pauses, his eyes scanning the room. He ensures to land on Y/N’s eyes for a brief moment before taking a deep breath and continuing turning his eyes onto the remaining students in the room. “I am a highly respected psychologist at Arkham Asylum and I accept no less of treatment from you. I am here to make you pass your finals at the end of the year and if you do not, that is not my issue. I have no faults in my teaching nor in my knowledge. I take this subject extremely seriously and do not care for your lame excuses. I know how badly behaved some of you are..” His eyes land yet again on Y/N, almost as if he was speaking directly to her. “… and I know that some of you are the exact reason a new teacher had to be hired. Your behaviour pushed the last one away.” A superficial grin plastered his face. “I will not stand for it and will immediately fail you, no questions asked. Got it?”

Y/N chuckled under her breath, amused by his narcissism. Immediately regretting her choice of reaction her eyes darted to the floor, feeling the burn of how intensely he was looking at her. Sheepishly, her eyes lifted off the ground and not to her surprise a look of annoyance and down right offence had covered his face.

“Let’s begin”.

The class passes smoothly with Y/N not bringing anymore unnecessary attention to herself, feeling embarrassed that he so clearly created a strong dislike for her from the first time he laid eyes on her. Quietly copying the notes from the paused screen, she couldn’t help but have her eyes occasionally glance over at Dr.Crane, her heart quickening as she realised he too was looking at her. As the lesson wraps up and students eagerly pack their bags to run out the door, she was interrupted by the stern voice saying “Y/N, please just stay for a minute will you”. He didn’t even look up, not even saying it as a question. The words fell so quickly from his lips it’s almost like saying her name or anything to her at all was a waste of breath. “Yes, Dr.Crane”.

The class emptied and he signalled for her to come closer with two fingers, leaning back into his chair and man-spreading in a way she could peer over the desk to see. That’s exactly what she did, even going as far as to lift her chin ever so slightly to get a better look. The only thing that snapped her away from her day dream was when Dr.Crane cleared his throat, Staring at her through raised eyebrows and an amused smile.

“Y/N. No more repeats of today in any other of my lessons, do you understand? I need you to behave for me. I’ve seen your grades but the other teachers have warned me of your attitude. I will fail you if you do not do the things I need you to.” I need you to behave for me. She felt herself squeeze the empty space between her thighs as the result of his words. Personally, she didn’t think she even behaved even slightly out of sorts at all, it seemed like he was just picking on her. To be honest, she’d prefer his negative attention over no attention from him at all.

“Will do sir.” Considering this was the closest she’d ever gotten to a man in her whole 17 years of being alive and he was considerably attractive, it didn’t take long for her touch-starved, horned up teenage mind to take control of this. In the silence she pictured him bending her over the desk, her ass bright red and burning with his fingerprints. She imagined her underwear and skirt pooled around her ankles as he pounded into her unforgivingly, tearing her apart from the inside and abusing her pussy to his liking. The thought alone could’ve made her whimper. The air turned tense and thick with the silence as her imagination filled the space between them, almost as if he was listening to her every thought as he stared into her eyes waiting for her next move.

“And one more thing. I’ll have to issue you a dress code violation” A fake half-smile plastered his face, slowly turning into a fake half-frown in an almost mockingly like manner.

“What? Why?” Confusion took over Y/N’s face.

“Your skirt is incredibly…” his eyes leave hers and shamelessly stare at her legs, even slightly lowering his head for a second to peek lower “…short”. His face scrunched up in cringe.

“Oh… no other teacher has mentioned it. Maybe you just shouldn’t look then” Y/N shrugged both shoulders, grinning innocently at him.

Her sudden attitude took him aback. “Young lady. Don’t speak to me like that. I expect it to be at least ironed by next class.” His voice liquid smooth and low, almost entertaining her attempt of arguing back. “If its not, I will have to deal with it myself. Do you understand?”

Please do.

“I understand sir.” Y/N was obviously not going to change anything about her appearance for him. The fact that he even suggested something about her skirt made her insides buzz.

“Now go.” He shooed her away. I don’t want you be late for your next class.” Dr.Crane stood up and walked her towards the door, his hand guiding her on the dip in her back. Though he touched her through her skirt, the skin in which he made contact with was on fire, vibrating around the dents in his finger tips. Before Y/N could walk both feet out, a firm grip caught her just above the elbow causing her to snap back at him. His eyes strict and focused on hers.

“Behave.”

—

“How was your quickie with Dr.Crane?” Rachel teased at lunch, grabbing her breasts as she moaned his name.

“I wish. My insides were on fire. I was dripping with every word he spoke.” Y/N played along, nudging her.

“Oh I bet. He’s incredibly sexy. No doubt the whole school will be dropping their panties for him. Practically legs spread on his desk begging for it.” Rachel winked over at her.

“I’ll be the first too. Do you think he’s staying on campus?” Y/N was suddenly filled with questions. The thought that he too may be living on campus was exciting, for her fantasies and drunk escapades with Rachel will be that much more interesting. She imagined herself ‘accidentally’ stumbling into his dorm after one too many, knocking on his door as he’d open it and take advantage of her. Her clit pulsed as her mind played with the idea that he would even want her sexually, it was exhilarating.

“We’ll find out. We should sneak out our dorms tonight and see if we can find him to, you know, stalk for educational purposes?”

“Good idea Rach, come to mine for a few drinks first? Liquid courage?” Y/N suggested.

“You know me too well” Rachel gleamed and brought Y/N into a hug.

—

5pm read on the clock in Y/N’s dorm. The room was filled with the bass of guitars from The Beatles blasting through the stereo. A half empty bottle of vodka sat cap-less on her cupboard that had all sorts of lace bras and panties spilling out each of the drawers. Empty cans of Coke Zero covered the floor, some who had fallen and some still stood upright.

“It’s already 5 Rach, we should get to his class to see if he’s still there” Y/N excitedly jumped up from the bed, placing her empty glass next to the bottle.

“Just give me a second” Rachel downed the last third left in her hand and pinched her nose and eyes at the taste of alcohol. Walking up to the dresser, she grabs a bottle of her Victoria secret perfume and gave herself and Y/N a few sprits. “We probably stink of it. Better safe than sorry”

The pair open the door slightly as move through the crack, wiggling their way of the room. Practically tip toeing, they leave the hall of their dorm undetected and onto the school field on route to their psychology class. Although 5pm isn’t late, the wardens are strict on after school hours and students being allowed out especially on school nights.

Finally arriving at the science building, the girls hide two doors down peaking their head around the corner.

“You go!” Rachel whispered.

“Why me? What happens if he sees me?” Y/N practically shouting back.

“This was your idea… also I’m nervous.” Rachel giggles. “Also, he’s spoken to you more. If he sees you he might not be as mad”

“I highly doubt that. I don’t think he likes me too much I-“ Their conversation interrupted by a door swinging open. To be more exact, the door two doors down swinging open.

Y/N’s heart drops and both girls eyes go wide.

“Who’s there?” Dr. Crane’s voice fills the empty hall. “I can hear you, you know. You shouldn’t be out of dorms at this time until dinner is prepared. Show yourself to me”

Rachel pushes Y/N out from their hiding space, signalling her to go. ‘This is your chance’ Rachel mouthed.

Dr. Crane sighs as he snaps his head at Y/N’s sudden appearance. “Hi Sir”

“And how can I help you this time?” Dr. Crane seems almost relieved to see her? Y/N wasn’t great at picking up hints, especially from a male but his voice wasn’t filled with disappointment as it was earlier in the day.

“Um… I’m sorry to disturb you I- maybe I- left something in the classroom?” Y/N wasn’t even sure what she was saying, her heart pounding thickly in her chest and causing a warm heat to burst on the skin covering her. She felt like she was going red, which in turn made her go even redder.

“Ah, I see. Well… come in” He swiftly turns around, not even bothering to hold the door for her. By the time she reaches the door, it’s slammed shut in her face.

‘Fuck’ she mouths to Rachel, who returns the favour by shooting her a double thumbs up.

As Y/N enters the classroom, Dr. Crane is already sat comfortably on his desk with his head in paperwork. She moves slowly and carefully attempting to not make any sound as the air is pressing down on her lungs making her feel unwelcome to be in his presence.

Without breaking his eyes off the paper laying on his desk he voices “You’re nervous.”

She stops in her tracks and to look up at him without raising her head, her eyes trailing up from the desk to meet his. “No I’m not.” A fake confidence overtakes her words, eyes rolling to the back of her head.

“Are you insulting my intelligence, Y/N?” His chin raising to look at her through his squinting eyes. “You’re a smart girl. You know you didn’t leave anything in my classroom.”

“I am not, Dr. Crane. I’m just here to see if I’ve left my notebook at my desk.” She gives the desk a quick scan from a distance feeling the pulse resuscitate between her legs from earlier, a dull ache filling her panties. She only just met the man, it’s as if he had a chemical attached to him that made her react so physiologically to him. How degrading he was, how blunt and intelligent yet insulting he could be.

“Hm, interesting. Considering you had your class with me after snack and it is now, what? 5:30 in the evening? You’ve only just come back now to find something you left here, in my classroom, 6 hours later? If I didn’t know any better I’d think you just came back here to see me.” His words filled with pride and a sense of accomplishment he presses down on Y/N. Enjoying to watch how flustered she becomes and the darkening red that spreads across her perked chest and soft cheeks. The sight of her now standing with her loose tie exposing her neck and white knee socks, noting how the left side is slightly more pulled up than the right, anxiously holding one of her arms in her hand rubbing to relieve some of her tension was enough for his pants to tighten around his crotch. Though he’d only just met her, he knew this would be a fun year for him. How long until the girl breaks for his cock? How long until she can’t stand the pulsating he can almost see up her skirt and makes a filthy, inappropriate move on her psychology teacher. The thought of sexually tormenting her by saying the right things and just enough skin contact to make her melt appealed to him. It got him stiff through both his underwear and suit pants to the point if he stood up now, she’d be able to see his print so perfectly. He wanted to test just how much pressure he could place her under, just to see her squirm under his dominance.

“I think you’re wrong Dr. Crane… I did lose my notebook, clearly not here” Y/N felt intrigued by his ability to read through her, how his intelligence answered him for her. She uses her attitude in a defence to try and bring authority to herself.

“My mistake… Y/N. Please forgive me for assuming such a thing.” A grin covered his face and she knew he was mocking her, almost making fun of how pathetic her excuse was to just end up in his classroom. “If I may, I will walk you back to your dorm. If I see you out of your room one more time this week I will be bringing it up to the higher up, understand?” Y/N quickly, almost too eagerly, shook her head in affirmative. “Good girl”.

The nickname ran fire through her blood, tears forming on her thighs as the praise made her feel somewhat proud, like she’d done something correct and it was her reward.

Walking towards the door this time he holds it open for her, smirking at her and giving her a look up and down on her behind as she walked in front of him. Little did she know her game had been reversed, Dr. Crane using this as a perfect opportunity to find out where his student lived. He would find out anyway, already planning on viewing it on the school system to know which room and block she stayed so that he could make accidental walk-in’s to her on weekends and after-schools.

“You are… 17?” He finally breaks the minute long silence between them.

“Yes sir, 18 in 3 weeks.” She gleams her pearly whites at him in proudness of her age.

“How exciting. Anything planned? I mean- for all you can do in a boarding school.” She notices how he’s inanimate when he speaks, almost emotionless and stone cold. It sounds like he doesn’t care but the question itself is curious.

“Obviously not” She puffs out. This was a complete lie of course, she already pre-bought the alcohol her and Rachel were to be consuming that night in her room after hours.

“I don’t believe that, Y/N. I feel you do things that the adults can’t see.” His eyes are menacing and threatening towards her but in a way, Y/N finds it seductive.

“Of course not sir, you can ask everyone- I’m exceptionally behaved.” Her sarcasm fell off her lips, playfully teasing herself as she’s well known for her bad behaviour. Dr. Crane felt the bulge growing in his pants, screaming to be stroked. He peered down and snickered at the tent pointing up at him. Sir. It drove him wild. He imagined her pretty, lying mouth around him, gagging on the base of his cock as she tearfully looked up helplessly at him. Her mascara smudged all on her eyelids and her waterline, whimpering as moans couldn’t fit out of her mouth. This did him no favours of course, only pulling on his erection and making his chest breath heavily in desire.

They finally arrive at Y/N’s dorm and he almost wanted her to see the hardness that he had become by her presence alone. Perfect, he thought. She lives on the first floor. Taking note of the window placed so perfectly around a family of bushes. She stood in her door way and turned to say thank you. Dr. Crane stood there with his bottom lip between his tongue and glancing at his crotch. Y/N too glanced down, breathless from the bulge poking out at her. Her eyes lingered for a second taking the size of him in as her mouth fell open ajar and her lips bitten in her teeth. The pulse in her panties began beating rapidly, both of their parts begging to be touched by the other. She wanted nothing more but to grab him by the collar and have him throw her onto the bed. Hungrily grabbing her clothes off and leaving the deepest of purple bruises along her tits. She had never felt the touch of a man before but in this instant she only had the image of him rolling his hips so deeply into her she could feel in him the core of her stomach. The alcohol of course didn’t help, sending her mind into a frenzy with false confidence.

“Dr. Crane.” She nodded and slowly started to close the door.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N.” Dr. Crane held her eyes in his as she wooden frame came between them. The second he was out of sight, he moved swiftly out of the dorm and out to the side of the building, perfectly ducked down behind the bush right outside her room. His eyes glued onto her window, watching her every move not knowing she was being watched by him. He prayed her curtains remained open as he had a gut feeling as to what was about to happen.

As soon as the door was closed Y/N reached for the tie on her neck, throwing it onto the bed carelessly. The smell of alcohol passing her nose as she threw it. Her small fingers couldn’t unbutton her shirt fast enough for her liking and she growled in annoyance, practically tearing the shirt of by the end. Hooking her fingers underneath the thong under her skirt she ripped it away from her heat, hissing at the cold air hitting her exposed swollen pussy. Throwing herself onto the bed, she snatches the tie and shoves it in her mouth, gagging herself from making noise as the walls were paper thin.

Mouth agape to what is occurring in front of him, Dr. Crane palms his cock through his pants, groaning at the sudden pressure on top of his erection. He hungrily rubbed faster, frustration began to pent up in his lower core as he knew his hand doesn’t feel nearly as good as hers.

Y/N reaches down and in small but increasingly fast motions draws circles on her clit to release the built up tension in her core. Arching her back and twirling her neck in pleasure, Dr. Crane fastens his pace on his own, in shock of how pretty she looked moaning for him. The tip of his cock pulsing beneath the fabric, begging to be rubbed.

“That’s it, my pretty girl.” His hands swiftly unbuttoning his trousers and his dick springing out onto his hand. Blood had filled him completely, not caring of his surroundings or how he may be caught. He begins to pump furiously at himself, attempting to match her pace through the window. “Finger yours-“ His groan interrupts him. “You can take it.” Dr. Crane imagines how she would sound beneath him, how tight she’d squeeze around his throbbing cock milking him for all he has.

As if she could hear him, her middle finger slowly pushes past her entrance. Y/N winces at the sudden contact and a tear forms in the corner of her squeezed shut eye. Her head snapping towards the window. Without flinching or a fear of her seeing, Dr. Crane stroked faster and shorter to release the knot forming within him, his balls tightening up and paining him to cum on himself.

“Oh fuck… cum for me baby.” His head falls back but instantly snaps up, not wanting to miss a second of the show in front of him. “I bet you’d feel so tight around me.” Everything around the teacher had vanished, all that was real was the teenager rubbing herself in front of his eyes and his pulsating hardness in his hand. Pre-cum began to spill painfully slow down his shaft as he continued to pump without mercy.

As the circles become messier with each rub Y/N was turning and her fingers slowing down with each pump, her moans were muffled by the tie that was soaking in a mixture of her saliva and spilled vodka. Bucking her hips up as the knot in her stomach came to a climax, undoing herself on her bed in front of her teacher without her knowing. Screaming in a mixture of pain and intensity, Y/N saw stars as her legs shook out her high.

Dr. Crane stood outside with his knees falling weak, becoming sloppier with each stroke at the sight of his student cumming in front of him. A low groan escapes from his lips as he chases his high, wishing he could cum inside her and fill her for the rest of the night. He wanted to empty himself into her hole and pull her apart to see the ruin he created of her.

“You cum so easily I- fuck.” He takes a sharp inhale of breath. “You feel so good baby- touch yourself again”

Y/N turns to her side in an attempt to regain her composure of the intense release she had brought onto herself, exposing the bottom of her asscheeks and the puddle her pussy had squirted on her blue bedsheets. “Please.” He silently cries in frustration knowing she had finished pleasuring herself.

“So wet for me” Dr. Crane was in agony, tears brimming on his waterline as ecstasy took over. He knew she had finished, all that could bring him to his finish was squeezing his eyes shit and imagining his palm was hers.

The sight of the mess she made alone was enough to send Dr. Crane off the edge, his chest puffing out quick and heavy breaths before a deep animalistic groan conjured from his lips. He stared down at his angry, red cock that shot ropes of his cum onto the bushes in front of him. He jolts at his orgasm and imagines filling her up, shoving himself deeper with each thrust as he empties himself into her.

Slowing down his rhythm and whimpering in pain as he wishes how badly it was her soft hands wrapped around him instead. His hips twitch uncontrollably at his climax and shamelessly places his softening cock back in his pants. His right hand covered in filth, he wipes it quickly on a leaf in front of him and walks off to his dorm. A smirk covered his face for the remainder of the evening, each thought he had of her touching herself sending him back to his perverted pleasure.

—

The next day, Y/N sat down in front of the class as normal after walking into the room with her arm linked with Rachels. Dr. Crane sat at his desk as his eyes followed her into the room and a grin plastered his face. The sight of her at her desk with her legs slightly spread exposing her white cotton panties with her skirt still incredibly short and crumpled sent anger down his spine as she hadn’t listened to his warning the day before, mixed with a twitch in his cock at the sight of her bare legs.

The class commenced as they shared occasional small glances, Dr. Crane taking every chance of silence he got in the class to scan her frame as she anxiously bounced her leg feeling the pressure of his presence around her. He didn’t trust himself around her after last nights occurrence so he avoided her like the plague, planning his next visit to her window that night.

The class had finished without any interaction of words between the pair, Y/N feeling defeated as she thought he could maybe, possibly, just want to speak to her after class again. With a huff of defeat, she left the room and continued her day as normal.

Little did Y/N know, for the next three weeks Dr. Crane had been making his nightly visits to her window, peeping in with his notebook in his hand writing her every mannerism, habit and character down as if she was his study subject. He noted how she mostly wore white when out of uniform. How she’d rarely, if ever, wear no bra under her thin shirts that delicately covered her erect nipples. She liked to dance half naked and preferred to keep her pussy covered when she touched herself. Her undergarments had ribbons or frills and the occasional lace bra would be completely see through. Her room was a mess, taking note of the dirty laundry that carpeted the floor or the empty food wrappers that laid around the elevated surfaces and even the unmade bed that she left every morning before class. She didn’t have much friends, nor did she do much homework. Occasionally Rachel would join her in her room where they’d be giggling and gossiping to ungodly hours of the morning. Annoyingly, the fact he didn’t do her homework got under his skin. She was incredibly smart naturally too and he felt it was as if it were a threat to himself. He also noted most importantly her downfalls, viewing them as a window of opportunity to attack again.

Alcoholism.

He watched three out of five days at least four drinks would lubricate her throat. If he was lucky, he’d catch her and Rachel twirling tongues in an attempt to release the hormonal pressure that came with going to an all girls school. He would begin to rub at his clothed dick as Y/N straddled Rachels lap in a drunken state, placing her soft lips on hers and delicately flicking her tongue across Rachels lips. The girls would break away and smile at each other as a hint that their actions were purely friendly and for experience, Dr. Crane hungrily fisting himself to his climax as he finishes on the same plant that had been covered everyday for weeks now. Her 18th birthday had been approaching fast and he had enough notes of his subject of desire to corner her in his classroom, when they were to be alone he could pounce like predator to prey, having his way with her like he knew she so desperately desired.

—

Finally, the day had come. The classroom fills with students and voices who slowly take their seat in Dr. Cranes psychology lesson. Unknowingly to those around her, Y/N and Rachel had been drinking since 6am. The excuse this time was that it was Y/N’s birthday, using the date as a justification to their intoxication. She was drunk… and she stank of it. Her difference of behaviour, slurring of speech and slowed sloppy laughs, the little trip she did as she walked into the door immediately told Dr. Crane what state she was in.

Perfect, drunk and helpless.

The class had commenced as she stared glassy eyed up at the teacher who much more now than ever made her feel a burning sensation run through her veins. Todays topic; fear and arousal. The liquid had sent her mind into a frenzy which craved, begged, to be violated by her psychology teacher. The words he spoke of the topic was music to her ears, drunk on his descriptions of how these chemicals affected the human body. She was vibrating at all nerve ends with a desire only he could satisfy. Tearing a corner of her notebook off, she messily scribbled the words ‘I can’t take it. The things I’d do to get him to bend me over the desk and break me into two’. Turning around obviously, the note was darted across the room to Rachel. As her eyes scanned what Y/N had written to her, Rachel looks up and smirks in agreement.

‘Make your move, I’m sure his balls are filled living in these headquarters’.

Y/N giggled at her best friends response, clit aching as she imagined how incredibly horny he felt living alone with a bunch of hungry, angry teenage girls.

‘All I’ve learnt from this lesson is that if fear is similar to arousal, I must be terrified.’

Before Y/N got the opportunity to continue the written conversation and throw back her response, Dr. Crane had caught her in the act.

“Y/N, what do you think you’re doing?” walking over to her desk he snatches the crumpled paper out of her hand. The slight graze his fingers passed along to hers made her whimper at the sudden contact, desperate for him to touch her more.

“Um… I-I’m sorry sir.” Y/N neck snapping back to Rachel who looked guilty as murder.

“Passing notes? Seriously? Are you ten years old?” He practically spat the words out in venom. “Don’t even bother going to your next lesson, you’re staying here and making up for the lesson you’ve lost with your childish behaviour.” Perfect, perfect, perfect.

The end of the class couldn’t come sooner, anticipation fuelling the tent in his pants to become gruelling. Only just as he sat down did he unfold the paper and have his eyes scan the words she wrote. Such a whore for me. To her dismay, she watched as he read the paper and with little to no reaction in his face, folded it back up and sighed as he darted her a stare. A heat ran up her neck and face and prickled at the sensation of her cold hands attempting to hide her embarrassment. So easy, so desperate.

As the room now emptied it was only Dr. Crane standing confidently with his arms crossed staring down at his A grade student.

“Are you that desperate that you would want me to fuck you in front of your classmates” The words practically oozed out his mouth, dripping right onto her as she laid there in the filth. The bluntness threw her off guard, her eyebrows knitted tightly together in guilt.

The alcohol had taken over her consciousness, gifting her a newfound pride in her attempt to lure him. “Yes, Dr. Crane… I would do anything.” Puppy eyes staring up at his piercing ones.

“Anything hm?” He took strides towards the left side of her, his hand grabbing her cheeks and forcefully attaching her eyes to his. “You know, I’ve been watching you Y/N. Such a silly thing to show your teacher which dorm you live in.” Y/N’s eyes widened at the confession, wanting to hear more. Her face so close to his crotch she could basically smell him, feeling the pulsations in the pants on her face.

“You-you have?” Her voice a small whisper.

“Oh yes. Your behaviour is quite horrible don’t you think.” His grasp on her face tightens as he speaks through his teeth.

“Did you like what you saw?” Silence.

A chuckle had exited his lips involuntarily, remembering how each night since they first met he had been ejaculating over the bushes that surrounded her room.

“Do you know how badly I want those pretty lips of yours to be wrapped around my cock instead of the vodka bottles you drink nightly?” He loosened his grip and pulled her chair out, now she sat directly underneath him.

“I can’t help it sir, I love the feeling it gives me.” Trying to remain innocent as if her pussy hadn’t starting to salivate against his words.

“Oh yeah? I can show you something better.” He reached down and grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her by the scalp as she winced in pain and threw her agaisnt his now emptied desk.

“Such a whore for me. Have you been wanting this Y/N?” He threateningly stood over her and pressed his pulsating erection against her stomach, lifting her up by her neck and pushing her up to sit on his desk. As she readjusted herself on his desk, he forcefully spread her knees with his elbows and dipped his fingers down onto her cotton covered clit in agonisingly slow circles, earning a gasp from her lips.

“So badly Dr.Crane-“ Her wince interrupting her as she spoke. “Please… touch me harder”

His fingers circled around her clothed clit as he stared down in disgust at her reaction to his touch.

“So desperate, so sensitive, so wet” He snapped his fingers back from the dampened circle on her panties and she jolted at the sudden lack of pressure, moaning eagerly to have his touch back on her. Dr. Crane lowered himself onto his knees and moved her panties to the side. “Don’t be so impatient, you look pathetic” Y/N moved the side of her head onto her shoulder, wanting to hide from her embarrassment from how badly she wanted him.

“Have you ever been touched by a man before Y/N?” His breath hitching as he exposed her, so close to her that the hot air leaving his mouth caressed her slit. “So beautiful. So pure.”

“Never… only myself” The nerves of what was unfolding started to knot in her stomach, causing her to squirm uncomfortably, bucking her hips as a sign of encouragement to touch her again.

“As I’ve seen-“ His thumb beginning to circle her now exposed slit, slowly adding his index finger into her entrance with little to no resistance from the arousal fluid that coated her. A small moan fell from her mouth as she felt her walls stretch from the foreign feeling. “So sensitive” He whispered in almost disbelief. His eyes stuck on her every reaction to his touch as he was in awe of how weak she had become under his him. Pumping harder and faster as she stretched to one finger, curling his knuckles to violently tap the rough spot inside her. He swiftly added a second finger and she bucked her hips in shock of the size increase, not use to even the size of her own fingers Nevermind a grown man’s. A hiss fell from her lips as she snapped from her daze and their eyes met.

“You can take it.” He said encouragingly “How will you be able to take my cock inside of you if you can’t even fit my fingers?” A knot already started forming at the bottom of her stomach as it got harder and harder for her to breath in normal. His lips naturally found their way to her slit as he removed his thumb and replaced it with his tongue. He hungrily ate at her as if it was the last pussy he’d ever touch, his tongue flat and licking her from top to bottom. As his fingers picked up the pace his tongue became sharper and darted in circles around her clit, sucking at her and filling the room with wet slapping and suction noise. Y/N felt dirty, her inner thighs now covered in what she could only guess was her arousal and his spit.

“Oh yes Dr. Crane. Please- I- I’m so close” The knot became tighter and tighter in her stomach as he felt her walls clenching around him. Her head swung back in pleasure as she started hearing white noise and seeing stars. Her legs began to tremble around his face and the walls echoed her cries. As soon as the knot began to unravel he removed his lips and fingers. The cold air hit her exposed pussy and a cry fell from her lips at the sudden loss of contact and rejection from cumming.

“Please Dr. Crane, I’m begging you- let me cum” A tear had formed in the corner of her eye from her denial of climax, her chest heavy breathing in an attempt to regulate her beating heart, head snapping to his so he could see the mess she’d fallen into.

“Calm down Y/N. I want to see those pretty tits of yours.” He could barely even contain himself, he ripped at her shirt popping buttons as his aggression had taken control. Within an instant his fingers had found the clasp of her bra, holding his body close to hers as he glared down at her. Taking in the sight below him for a second before unclasping the bra that attached to her body. The cold air hit her nipples and she stared at his reaction to her, now half naked and wanting his approval.

“Mhm… very good” He practically said under his breath. Cranes cock twitched at the sight of her so vulnerable beneath him. His firm grip from her hip had now found her left tit, pinching and slapping at her breast. Wiggling in pain she looked helpless under his disposal. “You liked to be slapped Y/N? Does the pain feel good?” All she could do was whimper in response.

“It hurts sir…” He sighed in disappointment, causing him to slap her pussy fast and hard. “Fuck sir- please- I can’t take it” her eyes stayed squeezed but open enough to see how his usual gelled hair had now strands that fell loosely around his glasses and the usual pale skin was now red with lust and swollen lips.

“But you’re wet…. You’re so easy Y/N. Do you not have any respect for yourself?” He said slapping at her slit once again, feeling a sense of accomplishment from her arousal to his abuse. His fingers dropped from her chest and hooked themselves onto the top of her underwear, using his left hand to peel her panties away and his right to lift her hips off the table. A groan fell from his lips at the sight of how swollen she had gotten from how desperate she was, his cock painfully restricted by his pants.

“Take my belt off.”

She scurried her hands to his belt, undoing his pants and zipper in the process- anything to make what was to come, come faster.

“Such a good girl for me. Do you want me to fuck you Y/N?” Dr. Crane’s pants had fallen to his ankles, the tip of his cock angry red and poking out from the top of his underwear.

“Please Dr.Crane” The agony apparent in her voice.

“Please what?” Amusement had formed onto his face, eyebrows raised from her desperation.

“Please fuck me.”

“If I must… you’ll be quiet for me now won’t you? Unless you’re so much of a whore you want to be walked in on” he sighed out in almost defeat. His hips began jolting in her direction as he too was desperate for her touch.

“Yes! Anything- I’ll be good- please fuck me.” She began groaning in impatience. Her eyes dropping to his crotch, mouth agape as the print of him exposed his size. Her eyes couldn’t even take him in. With each twitch his cock getting hungrier and hungrier at the sight of her, begging to be unraveled.

With that said he sprung his cock out in front of her onto his hand, a short gasp leaving his lips at the freeing feeling. and without warning, placed his head at her entrance. He placed his hand on her hip and squeezed tightly, holding her in place as he dragged the tip of himself along her slit to pick up her wetness. The feeling of her warmth earned a low groan from him, teasingly tapping his head on her clit.

“So wet for me baby…” his head dropping between them as he held them close. His words were barely a whisper, more of a hum.

After a few lengths against her wetness he grew impatient, growling at his desperation and in one thrust pushing himself all the way to her cervix, and beyond.

“Oh fuck Y/N… fuck” He groaned around her, not used to fucking a hole so closed. “You’re so tight” He said breathlessly.

The sudden stretch of him caused her to scream out into his shoulder, biting down over the size of him that had filled between her legs. The pain of the bite didn’t stop him, in fact made him hungrier. Pulling out slowly and shoving his hips forward once more they both winced in pain and pleasure. The repetition of pulling out so far that only his tip remained within her before rolling himself so fast and hard inside of her happened a few more times before she became accustomed to his size. Each stroke earning a low moan from him and a tear from her, eventually turning into small pathetic cries of pleading.

“Shhhh.. you can take it. Take all of me like the whore you are.” His hips rolled at a faster pace as the slap of his hips caused vibrations around the room. He began to pump in and out of her at a meaner pace.

“Mhm… Just like that.” He had no more mercy in his thrusts, fucking her hole as hard and as painfully as he could. With each pump he became more and more thirsty, hungry for his climax. She was still so tight around him, punching the breath out of his lungs as he scrapped the back of her.

Y/N couldn’t even breath, never mind speak a word to him. Her eyes were screwed shut and tearful, too in pain to focus on the world around her. Soon, the pain unraveled and ecstasy had taken over. His groans were dripping in her ear as he furiously thrusted into her, his lips attached the sweet spot on her neck, sucking at her skin and playing with it between his teeth. Y/N’s body was now being pushed with each bounce between them from his aggression and desperation from finally being able to fill her up. His lips occasionally leaving her neck to stare at her face or glare down at the view of his dick slamming in and out of her.

“That’ll teach you. So badly behaved… does my cock feel good baby?” His hands had snaked up and wrapped themselves around her throat. As she tried to answer him back she choked on her words as he took the air out of her throat. His eyes stared down into her as he continued to thrust himself into her.

“Can’t answer back now can you? So pathetic and easy.” His thrusts followed the pace of his words, taunting and mocking her submissiveness.

The same knot had started to build again in the pit of her stomach as her cries began to fill the room once again. Her walls clenched tighter around him as she felt the same build up as she did before.

“Oh fuck… squeeze me just like that” his eyes rolled at the tightening pressure she gave him.

“Please- let me cum sir.” He repositioned himself to look down at her, humming approvingly at the sight of her with the smudge of her black mascara coating her eyelids and waterline, mouth dropped open and eyebrows furrowed. With great thought he decided to be kind.

“Cum on my cock darling” The nickname itself was enough to send her over the edge.

“Look at me.” In too much of a daze her eyes had closed shut feeling as if she was too pass out.

“I said, look at me!”

The sudden anger in his voice snapped her eyes open to look into this. As her climax hit she cried in pain, squeezing and clenching around him.

“Fuck. Such a good girl for my cock” Dr. Crane fucked her through her orgasm, almost making her pass out from the overstimulation. He stared down to see himself ruining her, watching as she squirted onto his pelvis and shook uncontrollably around him. His hand still wrapped tightly around her neck, the lack of oxygen and overdose of chemicals in her brain possessing her.

The sight of her convulsing onto him and soaking herself around him caused a low growl to escape his lips, unfortunately tightening his grip around her neck as he selfishly chased his own high.

“I’m- mhm- going to cum- fuck- inside you.”

He was breathless with his words.

“You’d like that won’t you?” His thrusts now abusive, hard and fast inside her as he couldn’t wait to spill his seed and coat her walls.

“Please Dr. Crane, cum for me-please” Her begs of mercy sent him over the edge. Without warning, he shot his warm load inside of her and filled her up with his substance. He swung his head back in pleasure, releasing his grip from her throat and meeting her hips again. He became sloppy as he came, knees wobbling and thrusts now kind and gentle. Y/N felt his cock twitch uncontrollably inside of her. His knees trembled on his body weight, fighting to give in over the sweet release he had found in her, humming as he felt himself empty into her and his balls straining from the intensity he came.

Breathless and wet with sweat, he remained inside of her as he lent over into her shoulder, slowly and softly now pumping in and out of her.

He ensured every last drop of his cum plastered the back of her cervix. Once satisfied he had filled her up, his hips slowly removed themselves from the under side of her thighs, his limp cock falling out soaked in both of their fluids. He placed his lips near the lobe of her ear and whispered through his panting.

“Happy birthday”

#cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #cillian x reader #cillian x y/n #cillian smut #smut #cillian murphy smut #dr crane #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane smut #teacher x student #age g4p

80 notes · View notes

lasagnebats · 4 months

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okay but what if Jonathan Crane wears a weak dose of fear toxin as cologne to his appointments just to put his patients on edge

#batman #jonathan crane #dr jonathan crane #dr crane #dc jonathan crane #dc scarecrow #the scarecrow #scarecrow #words words words

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where-dreamers-go · 16 days

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“Blanket” Jonathan Crane x Fem! Reader

(A/N: Another older insert reader from about two years ago that I finally got around to finishing. Here’s one where Jonathan and Reader were both celebrating that neither of them had crossed paths with Batman for a whole week. Then things kind of heat up from there. Jonathan still needs the reassurance that Reader is being true in their relationship because he’s not used to that. This is kinda related to my previous Jonathan Crane fanfics discussing Batman’s opinion on their relationship. Minors Do Not Interact with this. Warnings: Minor angst, romance, first time together, lovemaking, hand job (both), unprotected sex, and mentions of Jonathan having past heartbreak. Word Count: 2,124 words)

~~~

A celebration was in order. A disguised excuse to be together and leaving adult responsibilities for another day.

Neither you nor Jonathan had crossed paths with the Batman for over a full work week. No captured Crane and you weren’t wrangled into another lecture about being too close to Scarecrow.

Honestly, it was a relief.

Over at your apartment, Jonathan had prepared dinner. A little something warm, hot, and homey. You had insisted cooking was his secret skill. The meal and time together was lovely. Something you cherished.

Cleaning the dishes could had been worse, but at least the plate didn’t break when it slipped from your grasp.

You were lucky. Yet it was a firm reminder to Jonathan and yourself that you were capable of being distracted.

Drying your hands, you could see Jonathan pushing his sleeves just that much further up to expose his forearms.

Could it be the glimpse of skin when he was otherwise all covered up?

Was it the lean muscle that lead to Jonathan’s dexterous hands?

Maybe you simply missed holding his hand after a long week?

Probably all of the above. And then some. You did adore the man for all that he was and would be.

The towel stilled in your hands as Jonathan’s arms encircled your waist.

“Do you have any after-dinner plans?” Asked Jonathan, his breath tickling your ear.

“I was thinking we could watch a movie,” you said and hung the kitchen towel up to dry. “Maybe share that really soft blanket I got a few weeks ago.”

“Sounds very domestic.”

“And I’m hoping to keep it that way. You know.” You gestured towards the windows on the other side of the living room. Ones that had been covered with curtains all evening.

“He couldn’t be that irritating.” Jonathan tightened his hold around you.

“It’s been a week…”

The two of you grew silent. Lost in thoughts of the Batman dropping by to lure you away from Doctor Crane. Again.

So much for getting handsy in the kitchen.

Sighing, your shoulders lowered. “I just wanted a little celebration with a sprinkle of romance. No fear of nocturnal creatures.”

Jonathan’s lips met your ear. “You’re not afraid of him, are you?”

You tilted your head. “More annoyed, I think.”

Humming, he pressed a firm kiss to your exposed neck.

“More annoying still that we’re talking about him when I finally have you all to myself. A great feat these days.” You smiled contently as Jonathan continued giving slow, strategically placed kisses. “And…we could just shut off all the lights,” you suggested.

“Skip the movie.”

“Get under the blanket.”

“Share body heat.”

“And a few other things?” You folded your arms over Jonathan’s, hopeful.

His lips curved upward against your skin. Lean hips pressed closer to you from behind.

“I’ll get the lights,” he whispered.

“Meet you on the couch.”

You turned your head and gave Jonathan a long, generous kiss. One you two would surely continue.

Jonathan slipped out of your grasp and gave you a head start. Stilling his hand by the light-switch, he was patient.

You were quick to cross the floor. Unfolding the new blanket in a rush, you laid it across the couch cushions.

In the second it took you to glance over to your partner, the apartment went dark. Save for the candles on the dining table that flickered, forgotten as you sat on the couch.

“Hmm, this blanket is really soft,” you murmured.

“Debatable.”

His foot bumped yours on the floor.

“With what?” You reached up and gently tugged him on the couch beside you.

In turn, he grabbed ahold of your thighs and pulled you fully on the couch, legs draped over his lap.

“With what’s underneath,” he said and gave your thighs a squeeze.

“Sweet and suggestive words.”

“You suggested we share other things.” He inched his fingers further up your thigh.

Humming quietly, you took your time as you unbuttoned his dress shirt. Working your way up, you listened to the sound of his breathing subtly changing. Fingers skimming over his heartbeat. Strong and more noticeable in the position you two were in. Then, having found his neck in the dark, you leaned in to kiss his throat.

Jonathan sucked in a breath.

Sliding your fingers along his skin, you pushed his shirt passed his shoulders, soon discarding it over the back of the couch. You took your time caressing his shoulders and arms. Kissing your way down his slender neck.

His fingers dug into your nice clothes. A soft moan left him as your hands explored his chest.

“I’ve missed you.” You murmured. “All of you. Your mind, your eyes, your voice, your touch…” You kissed his lips slowly and whispered, “Undress me.”

Jonathan pulled at fabric feebly, too busy kissing you again.

Finding his hands, you guided Jonathan as he removed your clothes piece by piece. Slender fingers glided over your skin and eliciting small gasps from yourself as he touched with cold fingertips. Chills ran across your skin.

“Is this alright?” Jonathan asked softly and a little hesitant, hands stilled at your waist.

“I’m with you. Of course this is all right.”

Chuckling, he gave you a quick kiss. Then one more as you took his hands in yours once again.

The pair of you removed the rest of your undergarments before you straddled his lap. Jonathan’s hands rested along your upper back as he gazed upon you in the candlelight.

“Your body is as lovely as your mind.”

Pulling yourself in closer, you thanked your partner with a deep kiss. You felt his exhale as he held you to him. Chests warming between two quick heartbeats.

“I finally get you all to myself,” you whispered against his lips, running your fingers through his hair. “Just us.” You kissed a path down his skin.

“Yes,” he breathed out, “If anyone ruins this, I’ll give them three doses of fe—.”

His words were cut off as your teeth grazed his neck.

You pressed a kiss to his skin; likely reddening. “Good, but I think we’ll be,” you pulled down the zipper of his trousers, “just fine.”

“Agreed.” He swallowed.

Lifting up his hips and fussing around with more articles of clothes, soon Jonathan was as bare as you. Vulnerable and flustered with how close you two had become.

“You okay?” You asked, palm against his burning cheek.

“Sitting with anticipation.”

“You and me both.”

Jonathan placed a hand over yours on his cheek and smiled.

Held together by languid kisses and roaming hands, the pair of you took your time. No rush to get anywhere later nor hide. Lovers memorizing the slight curves of the other. Discovering beautiful imperfections and how it felt to give passionate affections.

You knew Jonathan had held so many doubts before either of you had seen the other’s apartment. To be wrapped around the other, bare and on your couch, was an enormous step towards ensuring each other’s deep adoration.

“Let me take care of you a bit, yeah?” You delicately pushed up his glasses before slowly dragging that hand down his body.

Jonathan shivered under your touch. Yet not as much as when your hand grasped around his member.

You smirked, moving your hand up and down repetitively. Gently, of course, for your dear Jonathan.

He relaxed onto the couch. Soft moans leaving his lips every so often.

There was no need to hurry. Everyday came and went with many tasks. The time alone together in your apartment did not require any of that.

“You look so gorgeous like this,” you confessed, feeling quite content with yourself.

To see your Jonathan comfortable and sighing in pleasure may have also given you a confidence boost. You were doing this with him. He deserved some time to unwind. To have his mind on something he never had before, not without lies at least.

You would never dare to consider the thought of hurting him. Seeing him burdened with his past was enough to claw at your own heart. You never wished to be the cause of it. Jonathan held a special place in your heart and always would.

Leaving the hold he had on your hips, one of Jonathan’s hands started exploring the wetness between your legs.

“Oh.” He breathed out.

You closed your eyes. Loosing yourself in his touch.

Jonathan Crane was indeed an intelligent man. Inventive as he was caring, in your experience with him.

So why did it surprise you that he was giving as much as you were?

Perhaps subconsciously you imagined leading him by the hand with encouraging words as you shared body heat in the most unrestrained form of connection. Perhaps you thought he’d be too nervous. Perhaps, in your anticipation, you forgot how Jonathan had grown to initiate affection with you, his partner.

Could you be that silly or were you in love?

What was the difference?

Kissing his chin, you removed your hands from Jonathan.

“Lay with me?” Reclining onto the cushions, the blanket was soft along your bare skin.

He nodded. Following after you and your body heat. Jonathan pressed multitudes of kisses across your shoulders and neck. All of them soft and barely hiding his rapid breathing. He kept himself propped up on his arms. Ones you gladly held onto.

A light gasp escaped him as you made room for him between your legs. In response, Jonathan laid an openmouthed kiss just below your ear. Delicately, he adjusted his hips to align with yours.

It was a wonder how close you could be and yet still not be close enough.

Rocking your hips, you aided his member to run along your folds. You closed your eyes at the pleasurable sensations that zipped through you. Between his kisses and his movements, it was beginning to consume your mind.

“I need you.”

Your whisper caused Jonathan to stop moving.

“Are you sure?” He asked, lifting his head to look at you properly.

“Very sure, Jonathan. And… Oh, please know I want this. You. Truly.” You cradled his face between your hands. “I want to be with you.”

Behind eyeglasses, emotions swirled in Jonathan’s eyes.

“Just us.”

Leaning down, Jonathan kissed you fervently. All lips and panting hot breaths. He released his emotions full heartedly.

You felt as he guided his tip to your entrance.

Your sudden moan startled him, if only for a second. He managed to see your smile. Amongst the semidarkness, he found one of your hands to hold.

“Easy,” you used your free hand to hold his hip as he eased himself into your warmth. A moan left you, mixing into a giddy laugh and back to a moan. “Good.”

“Good?” Jonathan asked, quirking up an eyebrow.

“Very.” You kissed his lips eagerly.

You almost came then.

Safe and adored, you could be in his arms forever. Just like that. In the quiet and peaceful night without a care of what happened outdoors. It was you and Jonathan. All you wanted.

A gasp shot out of you as Jonathan gave a particularly pleasant thrust. You tightened your hold on him.

“Oh, Jonathan.”

Could you both have more?

More time together to explore domestic bliss and passionate moments between work life would be an extended goal. One you were adding onto each day whether consciously or not. You would be with Jonathan because you both wanted to. No one could convince you otherwise.

“Darlin’, you’re—,” Jonathan inhaled sharply, “—so beautiful.” His words raced out as he rested his forehead against your shoulder.

Your legs were squeezing around him, limbs locked tightly while you both met your pelvises together again and again.

“Don’t stop. Please… Jonathan.”

Sucking in much needed air, you shut your eyes. You let your body do what it craved, thrusting and quivering until it all came to a peak. It hit you like a wave.

Faintly, you could hear a ramble. A repetitive chant of your name.

You opened your eyes.

A loud gasp came from Jonathan as he quickly removed himself from you. His climax rushed through him quickly. Hands clasping the blanket as he came over you.

In a huff, Jonathan fell into your embrace. His hot breath fanned across your collarbone.

“We did it,” he whispered breathlessly, almost to himself.

“And it was amazing by the way.”

You could almost picture him flushing at your words.

Kissing the side of his head, you wrapped your arms around his back.

“Later, do you wanna take a shower, handsome?”

“A shower?”

“Yeah…” You ran a finger along his spine. “You’re welcome to stay over. Please?”

“I would not think to refuse.” Jonathan kissed your collarbone. “I’ll surely sleep well with you, darlin’.”

~~~

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 3 months

Text

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

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

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

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

word count: 8086k

Lonely Day- System of a Down 🎵

Love Song- Jack Off Jill 🎶

Superstar- Sonic Youth 🎵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“This is my childhood home.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

iii

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have no idea.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your cum?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“But you understand.”

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

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

“Your mother?” She asked hesitantly.

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

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

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

“So she died in the fire?”

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

“When did your father die?”

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

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

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

“Jonathan?” She started.

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

“What did he do to you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Psychotic?” She offered.

“Psychopathic.”

“Deranged.”

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

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

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

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

“Intriguing offer, detective.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, yes.” She nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Technically speaking, yes.”

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

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

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

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

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