#mysterious assailant
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VAMPIRE RECHERCHE À QUEBEC,” Le Petit Journal. November 13, 1932. Page 17.
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Quel est le détraqué qui a profané la dépouille mortelle de Madame Cléophas Bégin, exposée en chapelle ardente? — La police recherche l'inconnu qui voulait “étrangler le cadavre”.
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QUEBEC, 12 (spécial au “Petit Journal”). — La police de cette ville et la recherche d'un individu qui est entrée hier dans la chambre Mortusire où renosait la dépouille mortelle de Mme Cléophas Bégin. Cet inconnu se serait livré à des actes révoltants sur le cadavre et aurait endommagé le cercueil.
Au cours de la journée beaucoup de personnes étaient entrées à la demeure de la famille Bégin, sur l'avenue des Erables, pour agenouiller et réciter les prières des défunts. Sur la fin de l'après-midi, un homme entra dans la chambre mortuaire. Quelques instants après son arrivée, la servante entendit un bruit étrange dans cette chambre. Au même moment un homme sortait précipitamment et disparaissait dans l'obscurité commençante.
Les membres de la famille s’empressèrent dans la chambre mortuaire pour constater qu'on avait tenté de dépouiller le cadavre de ses vêtements, que la tombe avait été endommagée et que les tributs floraux et cartes mortuaires avaient été dérangés.
En examinant le cadavre, on remarqua l'empreinte des doigts sur la gorge donnant l'impression que ce dément avait dû tenter d'étrangler le cadavre. obsédé par l'idée qu'il étouffait une personne vivante,
#ville de québec#quebec city#vampire#digging up a grave#desecration#desecrating a corpse#grave robber#killing a corpse#mysterious character#mysterious assailant#police investigation#mortuary rites#great depression in canada#crime and punishment in canada#history of crime and punishment in canada
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so uhhh I don’t normally get the Animatic Urge, but for some reason I really wanted to do this little bit from 6-37! there’s not really a punchline or anything, I just...inexplicably felt like drawing this scene (by which I mean the first little bit of this scene, minus a few lines for ~streamlining~ and the sake of not spending forever on it).
it was gonna be just for me but, eh, it’s hardly the most pointless thing I’ve ever posted, now you can enjoy(?) it too! 👍
#art#animatic#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland episode 6 spoilers#twisted wonderland book 6 spoilers#i mean yeah it was probably because of the spittake#i don't think it was meant to be a spittake but c'mon#idia was like 'we're being attacked by a mysterious unknown assailant? let me just take a biiiiig sip before we put them on the monitor...'
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WHO DID THIS???
@get-loved-nerd WAS IT YOU???
#i have been ATTACKED#six anon boops#who is my mystery assailant#I have my suspicions#based on the modus operandi
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Some Sentences Sunday
I'm posting early. I'm sick and can't sleep and grumpy about both.
Here's a snippet from Chapter Four of my fic, Fallen From the Sky with Grace. Lady Ruth is too old for showy moves. Just a simple, ruthless incapacitation will get the job done.
I'm holding the wet bricks of the wall with both hands trying to stay upright. I don't know what I can do other than fall onto the pursuer.
"Ruth, there's someone following us. Stocky. Pale. Moving too fast. Get to the car and I can—"
She steps from behind me and stands out in the middle of the pavement. People dart around quickly to not collide with this older lady, with her white ponytail and tartan raincoat. She sees the pursuer and holds out a firm hand.
Hope you're doing well. A low-key hello and tag for anyone with things to share!
@aroace-genderfluid-sheep @artsyunderstudy @aristocratic-otter @bazzybelle @bookish-bogwitch @captain-aralias @cutestkilla @dragoneggo @early-sxnsets @elaboratebeauty @excalisbury @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @fight-surrender @forabeatofadrum @frjsti @gekkoinapeartree @ileadacharmedlife @johnwgrey @jbrrring @palimpsessed @prettylightsbigcity @subparselkie @urban-sith @whatevertheweather @martsonmars @mostlymaudlin @stillmadaboutpetra @technetiumai @tea-brigade @you-remind-me-of-the-babe
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could I request randomly shouting “floor is lava!” In front of the batboys? I’m in the mood for a crack fic
It was a dreary day within the Wayne manor and everyone was bored out of their minds. Nothing they did was enough to cure the boredom they were subjected to that day.
However a day of hope appeared before them in the form of you bursting through the door, holding a unbothered Alfred the cat in one hand and a confused Jerry the Turkey in the other, screaming: ‘THE FLOOR IS LAVA!’
Dick is pushed to the floor and stepped on by a mysterious assailant but manages to get up and use his acrobatic skills -cheat skills as Jason would like to call them- to project himself upwards to the expensive chandelier and clung on for dear life.
He was 100% safe.
Smug bastard and his cheat codes -Jason Tood, certified older brother hater aka the younger sibling.
Jason pushed dick onto the floor and step onto his back, somehow trips and lands flat on his face against the carpeted flooring. However he quickly recovers by picking himself back up and bolts towards the curtains instead, where he tries to cling onto them for dear life as the sound of fabric slowly ripping could be heard by everyone.
Jason was on a time limit before he was sent plummeting back to the floor and towards his second death. 39% survival rate.
Damian is the first of the bunch to move into action as he -somehow- managed to grab Titus in a feet of hidden strength fueld by adrenaline, throwing the Great Dane over his shoulder, and still found it within himself to then clamber up the book shelves in the library where he stayed to watch the chaos below him like he was god.
The bookshelves are wooden, it was only a matter of time before he and Titus would have to change to a different location. 50% survival rate. Titus is a good puppy.
Tim shuts the computer, sets it aside and follows Jason’s example by lying down on the floor and awaits his fate with a blank expression. ‘My time has come.’
0% survival rate, instant death but Tim don’t give two shits, he’s lived long enough.
Duke: poor lad is freaking out trying to find a good spot and settles with standing on the table with the janky leg as he was forced to continuously fight for his balance atop of it.
He’s lost too many times just to loose again. He hates floor is lava with a vengeance. 50% survival rate if he doesn’t fall off and looses his fight with the table.
Stephane: the mastermind behind the whole ordeal, cackles as she stays lounging on the plush sofa, sipping her drink unbothered by the consequences to come through the door.
50% survival rate, may drop lower if she tries to reach for her phone that she had left on the table where Duke was. She hadn’t thought this whole thing through admittedly.
Bruce Wayne: heard the chaos and went to see what was happening and sighs upon seeing his children, plus you, practically having destroyed the library over a stupid game.
He’s too old for this shit but ends up showing all of you up either way by standing atop of the stone mantle piece of the fireplace, menacingly.
10000% survival rate bc it’s Bruce Wayne.
#dc imagine#dc x reader#dc x you#dc fanfic#dc fic#dc comics x reader#dc x y/n#dc fanfiction#jason todd imagines#jason todd x reader#jason todd imagine#jason todd fluff#jason todd fic#dick grayson x y/n#dick grayson x you#dick grayson imagine#dick grayson imagines#dick grayson x reader#dick grayson fluff#batfam x reader#batfam imagine#batfamily imagine#batfamily imagines#batfam imagines#damian wayne x y/n#damian wayne x you#damian wayne imagine#damian wayne x reader#damian wayne imagines#damian wayne fluff
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bug
in which harry is spider-man, and y/n happens to be at the wrong place, at the wrong time
word count: 4k~
pairing: spiderman!h and y/n
warnings: sexual assault. danger. angst. kissing. grinding. kinda mask kink?
author's note: i know i said i was gonna work on florist... but let's be honest, when have i ever done what i said i was going to do? he just grabbed me by the throat okay? i'm sorry.
Harry… he’s not like everyone else.
He does things he doesn’t always enjoy doing, but he does them because he has to. Because if he doesn’t, then who will? These aren’t things he can hide, and he’s judged for them. Not everyone likes what he does.
But it’s fine. It’s part of the job.
Being Spider-Man isn’t easy.
The moment he was aware of what he could do, Harry accepted his fate of fighting crime, defending those that couldn’t with superhuman abilities which came from the bite of a radioactive spider at the lab he interned for.
He felt so alone, so alienated under the harsh newspaper headlines that labeled him a demon, a criminal, a havoc, that sometimes he wondered what separated him from the bad guys he caught so violently with. It was a struggle to keep in mind his end goal: keep his city safe. To fight for good. To protect.
Some nights, like tonight, he was so numbed by the repetitive nature of his days, the brutal fighting over and over again that seems to never end, that as he stooped on the ledge of a tall building, he wanted so carelessly to damn it all to hell. Why him? Why, why, why?
Harry was tired, having not slept more than eight hours in the past week, and he the strain on his senses is noticeable. Every sound makes his breath catch in anticipation, any movement agitating his hyperfocused irises. He felt like a thread pulled tight. So tight, he was beginning to fray, to snapping. Normally, the suit he wears goes unnoticed. But tonight? He felt it on every inch of his skin. Harry wanted to rip it off.
He’s playing with the fabric, snapping it against his skin, when he hears it.
“No, please. I don’t have any money, please stop touching me, I’m begging you.”
The voice was female. Sweet and innocent, but filled with fear. It didn’t sound right. He swung off in the direction of the yelps before he even knew what he was doing, why he was doing what he was doing.
“Oh, we know that,” a man laughed and there was a rustle telltale of struggle. He was a drunk, Harry knew by the phlegm in his tone, “you’ve got something much better than money.”
He was getting closer by the second, could almost feel his webs sticking to the girl’s assailant. All the fatigue from earlier melted off him as he entered the necessary headspace to fight someone.
“Stop it! Stop! You’re hurting me!” The mystery girl was crying now, panic taking full control of her voice.
“Quit moving, girl!” Harry could tell by the increased scuffling that her attacker was getting frustrated, his movements more aggressive.
He was a blue of red and blue as he swung into the alley where a large bearded man had cornered and was pawing a young girl. He saw flashes of skin and clothing, and didn’t hesitate to kick the man off her.
“She told you to stop,” he chastised. The webs shot out of his wrist at their own accord, wrapping around the man’s ankles and wrists and clamping over his mouth. He was on the floor now, thrashing and trying to regain some sort of balance, but Harry knew he had fully incapacitated him.
The dim light leaking in from the flickering street lamp sprayed on the girl as she crouched in the corner, shivering with wide, wet eyes, and Harry’s heart broke.
“It’s all right now, sweetheart,” he said softly so he wouldn’t scare her anymore than she already was. He knew what the media thought of him.
She flinched at the sound of his voice, so he tried again, “I’m not going to hurt you-“
A loud grunt interrupted him, and a prickly feeling of irritation ran down his spine and jerked him into action. Harry picked the man up by the collar, grumbled out a shut up, motherfucker and knocked him out cold with a punch.
“Sorry about that,” he huffed once the man slumped down silently, “did he hurt you?”
The girl tilted her wobbly chin up, and it felt as though he had fallen from the tallest building in the city and smacked down on the ground back first, all the breath from his body vanished. She shook her head and shivered again, sniffling.
“What’s your name?” Harry asked, whispering. Hoping that the smile hiding underneath his mask was audible.
“Y/n,” she peeped, side-eyeing him like she was testing him, “and yours?”
He chuckled, the sound low in his throat, “you know my name.” It wasn’t a question, but y/ nodded anyway. He thought the name was cute, fitting. He thought she was cute even in her disheveled state. Hair a flurry around her, her eyes rimmed with red and her cheeks pink from the chill of night. “Say it.”
It came out like a prayer from her lips, and he’s sure that he wouldn’t have heard it if it weren’t for his superhuman hearing. A thrill ran though him, his body tensing as if preparing to fight “Spider-man.”
“That’s right,” his nod was a mere chin dip. He cocked his head, crouched low so they were at an even height. “Are you scared of me?”
“No.”
“Good. How ‘bout I take you home? Spider-style.” He sprung up and held out his hand, waiting, hoping, for her to take it.
She was tender in his palm, soft. Wrapping his hand around hers securely, he helped her to her feet and slung a web towards the bags she had dropped in the midst of her fighting. She tried to pull back, but Harry held her still and shook his head.
“This won’t work if we’re not touching, you that right?”
He watched as the realization set in, her eyes widening and her pouty lips parting.
“We’re-?” She gestured loosely at him and the buildings, and he chuffed. Yeah, she was cute.
“Yes. We are. Unless you want to walk?”
“No.”
“Good. Come closer. Closer,” she steps timidly forward until her mary janes are touching the tips of his booted feet. “I’m going to grab you now,” he warned.
“Okay-“ looping an arm around her waist, he clutched her close. She was cold, smaller than him. Y/n was shaking, her heart beating fast. He could tell that she was still running high on adrenaline, and that it would only spike further.
“Where do you live?”
She rattled an address he recognized as one of the semi-safer parts of the city.
“Ready?”
He doesn’t wait for the full yes to leave her mouth, and together they leave the ground. They swung between buildings, Harry reveling in the way she held on to him and squealed in his ear. It felt a lot like sharing, and when she laughed, he felt a little less lonely for the first time since all this happened.
When they land on her fire escape, he tries not to think about how erotic it feels to have her slide down the front of his body, or how her palms glide down his chest. Or how her breath hitches when he involuntary leans forwards.
Instead he holds on tight to her goodbye, letting her sweetly mumbled “night, spidey” lull him to sleep when he gets home.
And that was the first time they met.
****
The next time, it’s burglars.
It’s two guys in ski masks throwing bricks through the glass window of a romance bookstore, and a shrill scream that halts everything to a stop and sends him leaping down and swinging from light poles to get to the shop. The sun isn’t even all the way down yet.
And Harry knows she’s there. His sense doesn’t pick up on people, but he knows because a funny feeling kicks it’s way through his gut and his heart beats a little faster.
These guys have empty backpacks and thick jackets, heavy duty boots. Briefly, it occurs to Harry that out of all the places to rob, this is the most stupid.
But it doesn’t matter how stupid the crime is, because it’s still dangerous, and she’s still in danger.
From his vantage point behind the guys that didn’t even hear him land, he can see that y/n has taken a place behind the register and is on the phone- with the cops most likely. There aren’t any customers inside because- as the signs on the door says- they had just closed. So it’s just her.
Harry waits for them to actually trespass (another crime to keep them behind bars) before actually doing anything. He shoots a web at one of the guys feet and another at his hands quickly, silently. The first, now on the floor, is yelling so that his partner, deeper in the store, gets a warning.
“Fucking get the girl, Sly!” He shouts.
Sly, the other guy in the store, takes one look over his shoulder and does as he was told. He jumps at y/n, and suddenly there’s a gun in his hand.
Suddenly, Harry can’t breathe because it’s pressed against y/n’s temple. She’s in a chokehold at his chest, clawing at a meaty bicep and choking back tears of fear.
“Now, Sly,” he held his hands out in front of him and slowly walked forward. “There’s no need for all this. Let the girl go.”
“Shut up! Shut up! I need to think,” Sly’s eyes were wide beneath his mask. He’s frazzled and huffy and Harry’s so scared he’s going to act irrationally. His senses are peaked, eyes tracking every minuscule movement in search of an opening. Y/n is trying to make eye contact with him (or at least as much as she can through the mask) to gain some kind of reassurance, and it’s crushing him that he can’t look at her.
Sly fucks up, using the gun to scratch his head while thinking, and Harry steps in, webbing his hand to the nearest fixture in a move that knocks the weapon out of his hand. The other however, is still around y/n, so he’s running forward to snatch her away while he’s busy glancing at his hand.
Once she’s safely deposited on the side somewhere- and he doesn’t miss the way her hands follow him as he falls away, as if mourning the loss of his touch- Harry eagerly pummels the guy.
“Fuck you and you’re thinking,” he grits out, clocking him once, twice, and three times before he’s unconscious on the floor.
His chest is heaving, his fist flexing out from its clench. Turning and stepping over the body, he asks, “Are you alright, y/n?”
“You remembered my name,” she said. She stood up, walking towards him as he did the same. They’re chest to chest, and she lifts a hand. Trying to touch him.
But he can’t bear it. Can’t bear her touching him because he knows it’ll break him. So he catches the and holds it mid-air. Tries to appease her by combing her hair back with his free hand, and it works.
“‘Course I did, sweetheart,” he’s taken by the way she leans into his touch, nuzzling his hand like a puppy. In a trance almost, one that’s broken by the distant screech of cops. “I have to go.”
He lets her go, and- “Spider-man, wait!”
But he couldn’t wait, the sirens were just around the corner.
****
The third time it’s by accident, and she doesn’t even know it’s him.
The brush shoulders at a coffee shop, and the distinct smell of her perfume making turn around, like those cartoons with the pie, to watch her walk down the street through the window. Harry is mesmerized by the swing of her hips and is surprised by his Victorian fascination over the swish of her skirt against her ankles. Teasing. She has a tote bag slung on her shoulders, and a book in one hand while the other brings her iced tea to her lips. His eyes lock on her tongue swiping up a droplet of her drink, and his teeth clench. He can’t do this. Not with her. He can’t lust after her. She’s too sweet.
He frowns and shakes his head because she’s reading while walking, and in the city that’s just begging for an accident.
He glances down at the title.
And then he goes to buy it at the bookstore she works at.
****
So it’s the fourth time now. Not even two days after he saw her at the coffee shop. And again, she doesn’t know it’s him.
He understands why she got hired at the pink romance store. He’s walking around like a creep, an isle over as she makes her way through the customers, asking if they need help and recommending her favorites (all of which he memorizes) or whatever might fit their inquiries. Her voice sweeter than all the times he had previously heard it. She has a very interesting way of talking about sex in books, very innocent. And suddenly, Harry realizes she isn’t.
He finds the book she was walking around with the other day, and is flipping through it when she stumbles upon him.
“Oh!” she stutters, skirting to a stop and glancing down at what’s in his hands. He keeps his gaze locked in her face, notices the way her skin flushes when she notices what he’s holding, and how she struggles to maintain eye contact with him as she says, “that one is- it’s uh- really good.”
Just to fuck with her, he tucks the novel under his arm and cocks a hip against the shelf. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yep.” She rolls her lips in her mouth and flicks her eyes over to the shelf next to him, then back to the book under his arm and her face turns red.
Harry attempts to hide his smirk, and fails. “Got any other ones you liked as much as this one?”
Nodding, “A few.”
“Great, I’ll take them.”
She rings him up, bright red, and stutters her way through a conversation about what it’s like to work here, if it’s safe, if the rumor about the robbery was true.
And he’s so, so pleased, when she said, “spider-man took care of me,” with the dreamiest smile dawning on her angelic face.
****
The fifth time he can’t stop thinking about her.
He’s incredibly surprised at her explicit choice of reading material.
Two out of the three novels explore mask kinks.
Who do they both know wears a mask?
Him.
In the novel she was so caught up in she couldn’t even put it down as she was walking down the street, the female heroine is rescued my a masked vigilante whom she later has very kinky sex with. Mask included.
And… well, Harry just can’t but think that it’s such a coincidence that she picks up this book after their interaction. That she’s so consumed by it she can’t leave it alone, not even while she’s walking, and then she blushes at the mere mention of his name. Could it possibly be that… she was thinking of him?
No.
No it couldn’t be.
She was too… too sweet to be reading this absolutely filthy things. Too pretty.
He’s confused, and maybe that’s why he finds himself pacing the roof of the building across from her in the dead of night, staring at her fire escape like a total weirdo. The newspapers would have a field day with what he was doing, and y/n would run for the hills screaming if she knew what he was thinking about.
Flashes of all the indecent things he wanted to do to her ran through his mind like a torture montage. His head between her thighs with only the bottom half of his mask pulled up. Kissing her while she’s completely naked, sitting in his lap while he’s still totally dressed in his suit.
He wanted to-
There was a flicker of light at the window he knew was hers, and everything in him stilled. He watched like a peeping tom as y/n opened her window and crawled onto the fire escape. She was in a flimsy pair of shimmery shorts and a t-shirt that just barely grazed her belly button.
She wasn’t wearing a bra, and from his vantage point he could see the peaks of her nipples poking against the fabric, taunting him.
Harry groaned, low in his throat.
And then she looked at him.
Eyes wide, lips parted, her hands clenching and unclenching against her thighs that were pressed together and-
A breeze swept through in his direction, and carried the scent of arousal.
Her arousal.
She mouthed hi.
And then he was on her fire escape, standing right in front of her. His body was tense, ready to spring into action. Silently, he crouched at the opposite end of her, the space between them small on the rickety fixture.
“Spider-man,” she whispered, as if testing the waters. There was an eagerness in her tone, and Harry had an idea of why that was. He felt it too, hard in his cock.
“Hello, y/n,” he rasped.
“What are you doing here?”
“You know. You know why I’m here.” He tilted his head and beckoned her, “come. Sit.” Harry pointed at his thighs, and sluggishly, y/n got up and straddled him. He could feel her thighs quivering around him, weak from nerves or lack of balance, so he placed his hands on her hips and guided her so their centers aligned, and they were looking right at each other’s face.
“I don’t understand,” her lips were pouty, shiny under the mooonlight. He wanted to bite them until they were swollen.
“Don’t lie,” he pinched her thigh in punishment and then soothed it with a soft caress. “Lift up my mask.”
Her shaking hands crept up his chest, feeling, and he groaned, absently thrusting up into her. She gasped, but her hands continued to move, wrapping delicately around his throat in search of the seam. When she found it, she pulled the mask up, but stopped so it rested at the bridge of his nose. Just as he knew she would.
Chilly fingers skittered on the line of his jaw, over his lips. Her eyes dazed, memorizing, “What’s going on?”
“Will you do as I say, y/n?”
“Yes.”
Their mouths came together in a rush, wet and lacking any order. Like they were picking back up in the middle of a make-out session. She tasted like mint, cool and fresh and dulcet. Her tongue was timid, submissive to his, but equally as curious. His teeth grazed her lips, and she purred. Her core felt molten hot even through his suit, and he knew without even having to touch her that she was so wet for him.
Harry pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, their chests heaving as they greedily suck in air, “take what you want from me. I’ll give it to you. But don’t ask questions. And don’t take off my mask. Understand, sweetheart?”
“Mhm.”
“Good. Now sit,” to emphasize, he pushes her down on his thick cock and rubs her back and forth, “in my lap and grind your sweet little pussy on me until you come.”
Y/n flushes at his vulgarity, and leans back in to kiss him, her hands finding purchase on his shoulders as she begins to move just how he showed her. The weight of her pussy on him engulfed him, and as she dragged up against him, slowing down and pausing at the head of his dick and swiveling so he could feel her clit, stars exploded behind his clenched eyes. Y/n was already whimpering, hot mouthfuls of air puffing into his mouth so it was clear she wasn’t breathing right. He pulls back and dips his head so he’s able to kiss down her throat and to her chest, bringing his mouth to the plushy mouth of her tits.
“That’s it,” he praises against her nipple, “that’s it, sweet girl, you’re almost there.”
Her moans fill the air, increasing and climbing until she shatters and Harry fucks up against her like it’s the real thing. A wet spot darkens the front of her panties, and he’s sticky inside his suit. They’re both spent, heaving as they clutch each other on the fire escape.
Y/n nuzzles against him, “will you come back?”
“I’ll try, sweetheart,” he whispers kissing her forehead and standing with her in his arms so he can place her safely back inside.
He doesn’t follow, doesn’t cross the threshold.
Because if he does, their night won’t end just yet.
#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles smut#harry styles blurbs#harry styles writing#harry styles fluff#harry styles fic#harry styles one shot#harry styles angst#harry styles imagine#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x yn
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my fantasy high red-string-conspiracy-theory-board-of-the-main-mystery lore tracker (a long ass post) (because I love both mysteries AND organization of inconsequential information):
rough chronology of events:
In ages past there is a wedding attended in the Chaos Mountains by Sol and Galicaea of their sister the Witch Goddess to an unnamed giantkin god. This god is a summer god, sibling of the giant winter goddess Ruvina
Over centuries, the unnamed god's domain changes from the sun and summer to fire
This unnamed god is killed and their name was wiped from history. The other gods remember who this being is, but due to obliviati mori, cannot reference them directly to mortals. Red shatter stars appear around this time
850 years before present day, the Witch Goddess's name is erased by her followers (encouraged by followers of Galicaea) and she is transformed into the Nightmare King. Before she does she performs the 4 trans-substantiations to resist being "unmade". Her familiar Kalina becomes a plague and begins to spread through the mortal populace. These events likely happen after the death of her spouse, as there is no reference to a spouse when the Witch Goddess was previously mentioned
Roughly 4-6 years before modern day, the pit fiend Bakur attempts to resurrect his god, whose name was lost "so they could not be worshiped." The return of this god is felt to be a significant threat to the world. Lydia Barkrock and her adventuring party stop him by sealing Bakur in a red gem in Lydia's chest, where she keeps him imprisoned with her rage
The Ratgrinders, then called the High 5 Heroes, meet in freshman year and consist of Kipperlilly, Oisin, Mary Anne, Ruben, Ivy and Lucy.
They xp level up by killing rats, twig gremlins and other small magical creatures in the woods behind Aguefort
The events of freshman year happen and Kalvaxus is released. During prom, Ragh spots Jace Stardiamond talking to Arianwen. He is later "barbarian healed" by Porter and after this can see Kalina. Kalina finds Ragh later and threatens Lydia if he talks about what he's seen
Sophomore year spring break happens and the Nightmare King is transformed into the goddess now named Cassandra
At some point Lucy began to return to the woods after party sessions to revive the rats they killed. She did this long enough and with enough regularity that the rats remember her name/face well and think of her fondly
Paperwork is submitted for Lucy to change her god from Ruvina to a god whose name cannot be read, just before her disappearance. A few days later a second request is submitted to withdraw this change. Neither form was ever seen by Lucy's teacher Yolanda Badgood
Lucy was killed near Lake Shimmerstone by multiple assailants with both weapon and magical damage towards the end of sophomore year, in the period of weeks after grades were complete, but before summer break. The area has multiple uprooted trees, some of which were used to hide her body. Unholy rites were performed over her body to force her soul to the beyond, so she cannot be revived.
Lucy is reported as dead but her body was never found. She was described as "not alive in this material plane" via divination
Because of the timing of her death, her party was not moved to pass/fail as all grades for that year had already been submitted
Night Yorb and the long dark summer happens
Buddy Dawn, a cleric of Sol, is specifically requested by the Ratgrinders to be their new cleric for junior year
Also over the long dark summer, the Loam farmers are accused of embezzlement and the Frostyfair festival is moved from there to the Thistlesprings tree at the recommendation of Lola Embers. Sklonda Gukgak is assigned as the Loam couple's public defender
Kipperlilly finds or is found by the rogue teacher and has passed the whole of junior year
Junior year begins. On her first day, Kipperlilly questions Jawbone on where YES! was created
Kipperlily announces she is running for student body president and her primary platform is for uniform equity under the rules without "favoritism"
In the mall of the Synod, the event that kicks off the battle is Cassandra becomes angry hearing Kristen isn't coming to help find followers. She says "This isn't fair!" as a razor-sharp flickering star of red light emerges from her chest. 24-point, red shatter stars infect nearby wizards and turns them into rage-filled, violent, giant versions of themselves. The people taken over by the shatter stars are instructed by an unknown voice to attack Cassandra
Cassandra is able to be calmed by a high persuasion and when she does, she expels multiple shatter stars. She seems to recognize them and says "I thought you were dead.”
Before Kalina is taken over by the shatter stars, she looks to Riz and says "Ragh Barkrock". She then slits Cassandra's throat, triggering a new round of rage in Cassandra
Cassandra suffers multiple attacks and begins to transform into a giant, red raging version of herself and attempts to kill the party. Before she's successful, the gang are swept away in a time loop back to Spyre. The Bad Kids see the Synod is destroyed, and Kristen finds she has shards of Cassandra in her pocket
Kristen attempts to commune with Cassandra and hears a voice say "She is at my side once more." The voice then mocks Kristen with YES!'s body and then tells Kristen it is coming for her, and it will break her irrevocably.
Ivy sees Fig disguised as Lucy at the party at Seacastor Manor, and has an inscrutable reaction to it, but did not seem surprised
The cloud rider engine in Fabian's basement is broken and a piece is found missing
Kipperlily does the food truck event with the subliminal OK messaging on the packaging
Ruben Hopclap performs at FrostFaire when he is attacked by Principal Grix. Grix is eventually killed by Fabian. The Bad Kids determine Ruben was doing some kind of ritual with a song about anger above an arcano-tech array in a 24 point star pattern, successfully releasing a large amount of some type of magical energy.
Simultaneously, Yolanda Badgood is killed at Lake Shimmerstone by immense concussive force damage, and afterwards her body is expertly hidden. She is subjected to the same unholy last rites that Lucy was.
The Bad Kids find Lucy and Yolanda's bodies, and Kristen releases their souls, who travel to the beyond on a "trail of moonlight"
Sklonda's clients are found murdered
Mazey reveals that the Vice Principal (i.e. Jace) does not become the Principal, and it would be the student body president who becomes the new principal of Aguefort
additional info we can reasonably infer or that don't fit neatly in the timeline:
Buddy's grandparents, and likely Buddy himself, have a vested interest in his grandfather becoming the cleric teacher. He went to Aguefort and is familiar with the school. Presumably he wants this to be able to preach about Sol and spread his influence
At some point before her death, Yolanda told Jace about her concerns regarding Lucy's deity-transfer paperwork
Cassandra is not dead, but is "beyond reach"
Lucy and Yolanda were noted to be in "realms beyond", which Brennan specifically noted they were taken from and "whatever was happening there"
The Ratgrinders are gunning for the bad kids and seem to be orchestrating situations to try to get them to take drugs
Porter's philosophical discussion with Fig regarding the concept of protection and how that is often inextricably tied with rage, that one can act as a fuel for the other
Porter is a paladin of the ancestors, and at some point was mentioned to be a goliath, though this seems to be debated in canon. If true, it's possible he's a descendant of giants
Kristen bring's up Sol's wrath and Buddy does not refute this, agreeing Sol's wrath is a well known aspect of him and he has been quite angry because of the dark summer/night yorb situation
As above so below. What the gods do affect their mortal followers, but conversely, what the mortals who follow them do also affect the gods
A god can only come back from death in a place a god had been born or created, meaning Bakur's decision to try to revive his fallen god in the Red Waste was what doomed it to failure
Bakur's documents are written in the language of giants, and his deity is said to be from the same region as Ruvina. Combining this with Adaine’s research, and the “mitochondrial magic print”, Bakur’s god is Cassandra’s former spouse
The cloud rider piece was likely stolen by the Ratgrinders as Kipperlily asked Aelwyn to research schematics of the device
Kipperlily seems to be keeping information from some of the other Ratgrinders, telling Aelwyn she needs to "protect Oisin" from their shady deals
Kipperlily's mother works for the city treasury and her father is in real estate. Neither are super wealthy, but Kipperlilly has been paying Aelwyn large amounts of money to obtain arcane components. Given the timing of this with the disappearance of a large sum of money from the Frostyfair accounts, the timing of the murder of the people who were blamed for it, and that the new chosen location happens to be the home of one of the Ratgrinders rivals, the Ratgrinders involvement is thought to be likely
Cassandra's whispered clue of "spies, tongue, curse"
Places outside Spyre, like the Synod, are easier for dead gods to reach
For whatever the Ratgrinders have planned, a student being the principal of Aguefort is essential for it. A lot of people have had to be conveniently absent or dead for this circumstance to occur.
This is all not even touching Aguefort's whole journey through time and possible time quangle issue and whatever the fuck Fig's Bad Luck Thing is. I'm not convinced that these are related to the god stuff and are likely their own separate issues. also, I am tired lmao. If you want to hear my rambling theories, I'll be making a separate post.
#fantasy high#dimension 20#fhjy#dropout#my musings#did i avoid all of my responsibilities after work today to write this? yeah.#do I feel bad about it? also yeah but it was still fun.#fantasy high meta
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TAG DUMP!
#[every legend starts somewhere: starter meme]#[mysteries of the celestials: ask meme]#[unknown assailant: anon]#[a story’s tangent: asks]#[outside this realm: dash commentary]#[running with flaming tails: crack]#[training: queue]#[writer’s needs: fanfic]#[legend’s pen: mun]#[a new tale begins: promo]#[tales from long ago: self promo]#[scrolls from yesteryear: myart]#[antique portraits: friendsart]#[a narrative in ink: writings]#[symphony of sounds: music]
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pt. 1 | 📍pt.2 | pt. 3
hmmm
i like to think that the other yuu (y/n) would also somehow befriend kalim
like- listen.
maybe they’re wandering around campus while everyone is in class. they were skipping, yet again, because of their anxiety. yuu gave them the advice of walking around the school while everyone was in class so you could get to know the school on your terms.
so you here you were, roaming around the outside portion of school, forcing yourself to walk slowly and take in your surroundings. each footstep followed the pattern of black and white tiles; left white, right black. if your toe went over the black tile your other toe would have to match. if your foot skidded on the tile, your other foot would have to follow in suit.
it was an old habit you had in your old world. you never knew what possessed you to do it, but you couldn’t stop once you started.
‘tsking’ at the fact that half your foot went over the white diamond, you were preparing to have your other foot follow suit when you felt a sharp jab in between your shoulder blades
“AGHH” you cried out in pain as you tripped over your feet. with the short time you had, you braced yourself onto your side, where the side of your arm took most of the impact. letting out a shaky breath at the pain, you felt tears escape as you kept your head down looking towards the floor.
fuck. what luck huh.
first the scene in crewels class last week, now this???
the universe is really trying to humble you
there was a crushing weight on top of you that kept pushing your side into the floor. you were debating rolling on your back to cradle your arm, but you didn’t want to cause you and the boy to shift positions…
your face started heating up. just at the thought of anyone seeing you like this made your tummy clench. you can imagine it, the bell ringing, indicating the end of class. all the boys in the classrooms would thunder like wildebeests into the hallway, only to see you pinned to the floor by the mystery man.
oh could you could just kill yo-
“ughh- oh sevens! ae you okay?”
the voice cried out from above you, immediately getting off of you. your relieved sigh from the weight being taken away was short lived as you were yanked by your wrist upwards.
you gasped, pain shooting through your ankle as you toppled into the strangers strangely strong arms.
his skin was tanner with white swirls and patterns running up his muscles arms- no stay focused. your ankle? probably broke-
“hello? anyone home? i oh no, i hope you didn’t hit your head, ahh im so sorry, let’s get you to the nurse!!”
a soft hand found your shoulder as he set you upright, and there you were forced to meet you assailant.
of course you knew who kalim al-asim was. you’d hear him from classrooms away, and jamil too, the latter usually chasing after the former.
“huh, that’s weird, i’ve never seen you before” he tilted his head in confusion, a split second later his face lit up like a thousand christmas lights as he connected dots.
“oh! you must be a new transfer student!
(i said he connected dots, i never said he connected the right ones)
i’m kalim al-asim! im the housewarden of scarabia! and you are…”
he looked at you expectingly, his scarlet eyes honing in on yours. you would’ve thought he was trying to peek into your soul if it weren’t for the ever growing smile on his face.
“uh… y/n” you didn’t have the heart to tell him you weren’t new.
you shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking to his crest as you fiddled with your hands behind your back. despite your nervous deposition your mind was racing.
what if he was there to bully yiu?
if you kept pressure off your foot then just maybe it won’t be black and blue and swollen like a pufferfish.
oh god what if a camera crew jumps out from behind the corner telling you you just got fucked
oh god what if the entire school is in on it-
“hey, you okay there?”
snapping your head up, you met kalim’s worried expression. his eyes no longer like that of a predator’s stalking its prey, but of someone who was genuinely worried about you.
was this the leap of faith yuu was talking about?
1,2,3 fuck it
“uh, no actually” fuck you wanted to run. yet like an anchor at the bottom of the sea, your foot stopped you from setting sail. you were stuck in your own situation.
“oh sevens, i knew it! here i’ll take you to the nurse!”
“OW”
you yelled when his hand tugged you in the opposite direction. you thought he got burnt by how fast his hand detached itself from yours.
“sorry” you mumbled, rubbing your brushing arm firmly. you weren’t sure why, but a little pressure made it not hurt so much- you winced, rubbing motions stopping immediately as you cursed yourself mentally.
“there’s no no reason to apologize, at the most i should be the one saying sorry, you did get hurt by me after all” his face shifted to a guilty one as he eyed your ankle, then your arm, and back to your face.
you sighed, running your free hand through your hair as you let out an exasperated sigh. “how about this, we call it even if you can take me to the nurses” you pointed to your ankle “think i sprained it” you mumbled out once you realized you were ordering THE house warden of scarabia around.
you were gonna get snipped, weren’t you?
bye bye y/n! died before they could live!
“nonesense!” he shouted, causing you to flinch slightly at the closeness and loudness. he let out a small sorry as he smiled sheepishly “i knocked into you while riding this guy” he pointed behind him as his expression quickly grew to one of amazement.
“oh! you haven’t seen my magic carpet! he’s-“
“not behind you” you muttered, peeking behind him left and right. and yet, there was only him and you in the deserted hallway.
(you checked behind you as well just to confirm your claim.)
“WHAT” kalim shouted, again. this time not apologizing as he was too busy freaking out about his lost carpet.
“jamil’s gonna kill me” he whined.
“if you want i could help look” you pressed your nails into your fists as you asked. boy were you talkative today!
“nah, you’d only be dead weight with that ankle of yours, don’t worry about it!”
… this is why you don’t talk…
“oh! how about this, when i find it i’ll let you ride it so you can go to the nurses office!”
…you were getting dizzy, first he calls you dead weight now he’s offering to ‘carry’… carrying? said weight on his so called carpet.
you couldn’t keep up with him.
nodding dumbly, you hobbled to the door side of the corridor as kalim jumped through the hole that acted as a window that outlooks the courtyard.
searching high and low, you couldn’t help but laugh as you watched the heir turn into an acrobat as he climbed trees, jumped over rocks and somehow managed to climb on top of the gazebo’s roof.
“don’t fall! i don’t want us to having matching ankles!” you mused, laughing lightly as he turned to you, waved, almost fell off, and flailed to get his balance back all in the span of 10 seconds.
a few minutes passed when you heard him yell out. prying your attention from your nails, you were face to face kalim.
“shit!” you flinched as kalim almost ran into you a second time. although he tried to keep it hidden behind his back, the large carpet peeked over his shoulder at you, before folding in on itself.
“this is my friend, y/n! c’mon don’t be shy buddy. they’re shy just like you, see?” kalim encouraged the carpet from behind his back. yet every-time he tried facing it, the carpet would stay glued to his back until they started playing an intense game of “peek-a-boo”
laughing at their antics, the carpet unfolded its wings and with a flap, it flew into the sky, effectively knocking kalim over and onto his butt.
“HAHAHSHAH” you threw your head back as you slapped your good leg’s knee.
what felt like a few seconds must’ve been a few minutes of you laughing none stop that you didn’t even notice the two in front of you.
calming down from your ab inducing fit of laughter, you started fanning yourself as you had a nasty habit of blushing when you laughed. your eyes were closed in concentration as you let the last of it out of your system.
“boy you guys are sure a riot, lord i can’t remember laughing that hard in a long time- what”
kalim, with his ass still on the floor was just staring at you. you didn’t dare name the emotion as you tensed up again.
“i’m sorry for laughing-“
springing up like a rocket, he celebrated with his carpet. what the fuck.
“there you go! no longer doom and gloom! you should laugh more! “
extending a hand to you, he grinned, his face flushed and breathing slightly erratic that the normal eye wouldn’t have been able to spot it. yet you did, you always did.
you looked at his hand for a moment, then to his face, then to his hand, which he opened a bit more towards you to get you to take it.
what felt like a pause in time was probably more of a minute as you just looked between the two.
“fuck” you growled out lowly, closing your eyes as you thrusted your hand into his. you kept your eyes shut as he yanked you up to the point your feet touched off the ground.
bracing for another hard impact, you were met with the soft, fuzzy fabric of the carpet.
“oh” you said lightly, ungracefully fixing your positioned to where your good leg was extended and your bad ankle was resting over your good leg. your arms keeping you up right.
“neat huh” you looked at kalim as the front carpet dipped a bit to let him on. he sat in front of you as he shifted his position to face you.
“do you mind” he looked at your ankle as the carpet started flowing. too impressed with that fact that you’re on a giant fucking carpet, you shook your head no.
the light touch onto your sore ankle caused a hiss to escape you as your head snapped towards an apologetic kalim.
he wasn’t sorry for too long as he kept softly poking your ankle, before he dramatically sighed. shaking his head, he said “yep, it’s sprained alright.”
groaning, you leaned back in annoyance. but with the lack of personal awareness made you forget that this is in fact not! a car.
so down you went. your world turning upside down as you felt your legs lift. and soon enough you would nose dive into the concrete.
welp this was it ladies and gentlemen. you’ve had a god run.
our father who art in heaven-
a hand lashed out and gripped your arms before pulling you back up. where you were met, once again, face to face with the al-asim heir.
breathing heavily, you stared at him wide-eyed through the tresses of your hair.
“not gonna lie, i thought you were gonna let me fall” you joked, gulping as you looked behind you at your almost murder scene.
pushing down the sudden dread, you looked back to kalim who wore an almost serious expression
“only a fool would drop a girl like you”
he smiled slightly, cheeks growing in hue as he looked away from you shyly. his back was now towards you as he told the carpet where to go.
the complete one-eighty left you gagged as you you just stared at him, gob-smacked that he had the AUDACITY to use that moment to quote a meme.
shaking your head slightly, you looked behind you as you extended your arms back, hands trailing through the carpet. stopping once you thought it was a suitable distance from the edge. leaning back, you enjoyed the ride
—
i was gonna write this sooner but i had to finish my assignment el oh el
i love this y/n sm🫶
y/n is actually me
yes i did that on purpose
#hope y’all realize the carpet could’ve saved y/n#tiyoin 🔎#twisted anxiety 🌀#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#twst kalim#kalim al asim#kalim x reader#scarabia x reader#yandere twst#yandere twisted wonderland#yandere twst x reader
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Octavinelle with Jellyfish Reader
author note: I’m baaack! It feels good to finally write again. Not anything long, but just some good ol’ slice of life headcanons with the fish mafia (who i think I’m currently obsessed with??) maybe I’ll write more about this, like a small drabble of jellyfish!reader finally remembering Azul or something pfft. Also, gender neutral reader!! Because I realised a lot of my works could be read that way, so I might start labelling like that from now on, so more people can enjoy (*≧ω≦*)
characters: Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Floyd Leech x GN!Jellyfish Reader
background:
You’re a jellyfish mer, specifically of the box jelly variety, meaning that you are highly poisonous. As such, people can be stung as easily as touching your skin, so you keep your skin covered up as much as possible. Well, as much as you can remember, as you are a bit... Airheaded.
Azul Ashengrotto
You are the bane of Azul's life.
Seriously, his self confidence takes a battering during almost every interaction you have (the tweels don't help).
Why? Because you can never remember who he is.
"Y/N, please pass these papers to Azul." "Okay! ... Who is Azul?"
(He never gets those papers either because you forget why you have them in the first place...)
Azul would never admit it out loud, but he was excited when he learned a fellow invertebrate would be joining Octavinelle. You'd be able to relate to each other, no? Another mer with several appendages who prefers to swim slowly. A perfect match.
Except you are apparently impervious to his charms, and your blank stare haunts him.
Like hello, this is your Housewarden speaking. Anybody home? Do you remember him? ... No? You can't remember him but you remember the twins? Of course you do. Of course.
On the bright side for Azul, your empty headedness makes you deliciously easy to scam.
In fact, he doesn't even need to manipulate you into a contract. You're more than happy to stand sweetly, holding some leaflets promoting the Monstro Lounge's new special menu, or to stand aimlessly at the door, helping to attract clientele.
Now, if only he could think of a way to get you to remember him...
Jade Leech
Apart from the amusement he got from Azul's suffering, Jade wasn't really interested in you at first.
Nothing against you, of course. He just didn't find you very interesting.
However, that all changed when you visited his booth during the culture fair and stared dreamily into his terrariums.
Jade was absolutely delighted to tell you all about each of his terrariums and even about his foraging in the mountains. You stayed until Jade had to leave for his Monstro Lounge duties, and even then he was reluctant to disturb you.
You also won his first guest prize mystery mushroom too!
He found it utterly adorable when he found you still carrying it around in your hands later during the culture fair, cupped delicately like a precious item.
Inevitably, you and Jade fell into an arrangement where he'd talk your ears off about everything mountain and mushroom, and he'd let you view his updated terrariums.
He was fully aware you weren't retaining any of the information he was assailing you with, but you served well as an outlet for him to talk about his hobby, as Floyd was uninterested, and it charmed him that you stared so happily at his terrariums, his work of arts, that he allowed himself to indulge.
But you surprised him one day (no easy feat!). Jade was once again pitching some mushroom dishes for the Monstro Lounge menu to Azul, with some mushrooms for illustrative purposes.
When Azul handled one of the mushrooms with disdain, asking what exactly this was, you suddenly piped up before Jade could.
"That's a chanterelle mushroom. They work well sautéed... And in cream sauces." Cue shocked Jade and Azul.
Low-key Azul is fuming because how can you remember that but not him??
Jade never imagined you would retain any of what he told you, being airheaded was in your nature after all. So he was touched, charmed in fact that you could recall some facts about a mushroom on sight.
He recovered from his shock quickly with a large toothy grin, capitalising on Azul's shock to launch another sales pitch.
Your fate was sealed, he definitely would be taking you along on his next mountain walk.
Floyd Leech
Oh he just loves you, jellyfish! So cute, sweet and squishy!
You are one of Floyd's favourite people to squeeze. He can squeeze you as hard as he likes, and you don't even flinch!
It is guaranteed that if he catches sight of you on campus, he is charging over to you to wrap his arms around you, squeezing and throwing you around with exuberance. Onlookers look on in horror as you just give a ditzy smile.
But as a result of Floyd's constant manhandling of you, it means he sometimes accidentally touches your skin and gets stung.
Resulting in multiple trips to the infirmary. But don't worry, Floyd doesn't get mad about it. In fact, some swear that he likes it.
By this point, it's happened so often that Floyd is likely building up a bit of resistance to your venom.
Now, Floyd tends to sometimes be a bit... Overprotective of you.
Seven forbid he feel that someone is bothering or messing with you. He'll be behind you in a flash, an arm thrown around your shoulder and sharp teeth bared in a snarl.
"Nee... What do you want with my jelly, huh?"
If the other students thought you were an easy mark before, they think twice now with your guard eel lurking about.
Jade and Azul like to keep you in the Lounge when Floyd is having a bad mood day, as your presence tends to keep him from wandering off and help salvage some productivity.
Azul is even willing to waive the loitering rule if that means Floyd will stay in the lounge and do some work.
It doesn't always work, mind. Sometimes Floyd just ends up laying across you in a booth and ignoring his duties. But Azul will take what he can get, at least he is there in case there are any troublesome clientele.
#twst#twisted wonderland#twst azul#Azul Ashengrotto#twst jade#jade leech#twst floyd#Floyd Leech#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#azul ashengrotto x reader#jade leech x reader#floyd leech x reader#octavinelle#azul ashengrotto x y/n#jade leech x y/n#floyd leech x y/n
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"MAY HAVE BEEN CONCERNED IN BANK ROBBERY," Vancouver Daily World. April 9, 1913. Page 1 & 5.
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Man Arrested Last Week is Identified by Clerk as One of Central Park Hold-Ups.
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HAD TWO REVOLVERS IN HIS POSSESSION
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Police Are Looking for South Vancouver Woman Who Was Witness of Crime.
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Police officials believe today that in the person of a man arrested last Friday afternoon in Shaughnessy Heights and held on the charge of carrying concealed weapons, they have one of the two men who last July held up and robbed the Central Park branch of the Northern Crown bank after beating the clerk in charge.
Yesterday afternoon this clerk was called down to the police station, and he picked the man out of a row of men as the thug who had assisted in holding up the bank. His evidence is not believed to be conclusive, and the police are awaiting the return of a South Vancouver woman, a witness of the hold-up, before they press the charge.
When the arrest was made another man was walking with the suspect along Tenth avenue, near Granville street. Police Constable P. J. Auld, member of the Kitsilano force, commanded the two men to give an explanation of their movements. The alleged bank robber surrendered after a few words, but the other man, a big heavy fellow, resisted and ran down Granville street. Auld handcuffed his companion at once and commanding the bigger man to stop he fired after him but missed.
Companion Escaped.
This man escaped and although police constables and detectives searched for him they have not found him.
When searched at the central station the prisoner delivered two heavy revolvers. He refused to say where he was living or to discuss his movements and instead of laying a charge of vagrancy the police charged him with carrying concealed weapons. He was arraigned on this charge in Magistrate Shaw's court on Saturday, but he was remanded until Friday of this week.
The clerk who identified him is positive that he is one of the men who walked into the Central Park bank on a hot day in July and commanded him to deliver the cash in hand.
When the thugs were refused the money one of them assaulted the clerk. A heavy iron bar, wrapped with gunny sacking and paper, was used and the clerk's head and shoulders were badly bruised and cut. He made a vigorous resistance and was afterwards complimented for his conduct and promoted, though the bank lost about $1800 to the hold-up men.
Closed the Branch.
Three months previously the bank had been visited by strong-arm men and on that occasion another clerk was shot through the arm. The bank was not robbed because, although wounded. the clerk discharged his gun at them and scared them off. After the second holdup occurred and another bank in Cedar Cottage robbed, the Northern Crown Bank closed its branch at Central Park.
The alleged holdup is a young man, rather short and light for his size. The police do not wish his description published because they want those who witnessed the robbery to be unbiased when they are given an opportunity of identifying him.
One of the men who held up the bank earlier in the year was later arrested by the South Vancouver police and convicted of the offense. He was sent over the road for a term of years.
The hunt for the two men who robbed the bank in July lasted the better part of a week. They stole a horse and rig on Westminster road and, dashing south through the municipality towards the north arm of the Fraser river, they escaped through a cordon of police drawn around their hiding place in the bush.
#vancouver#kitsilano#bank robbery#bank robbers#wanted criminals#police search#mysterious assailant#getaway vehicle#crime and punishment in canada#history of crime and punishment in canada
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Behind the Mask - Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader (ONESHOT)
Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader
Scarecrow x Batgirl!Reader
Word Count: 15079
Warnings: Enemies to Lovers, fear toxin, Scarecrow x Batgirl
Summary: (REQUEST) While chasing down the Scarecrow in Gotham, Y/n forms an unexpected bond with the mysterious figure. As their relationship deepens, Y/n finds herself navigating the blurred boundaries between friend and foe.
A/N: I got a request for Scarecrow x Batgirl!reader with enemies to lovers and I fucking JUMPED at this one, I did not mean to write this much, holy shit.
I didn't really have a plan going into this one, so when I started writing, I was going from top to bottom, so whatever happened happened and I clearly went OFF!
While writing this, I kinda had comic-book!Scarecrow in my brain for reasons I couldn't explain, but ya know... it's the same dude so yeah.
I really hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it 💚
-
"I'll need you to be on watch in the Narrows tonight," Bruce instructed Y/n as he fastened his suit, his tone carrying the weight of his responsibilities.
"Any you want me to keep an eye one in particular?" Y/n asked, adjusting her own suit in preparation.
"Many, but the Scarecrow’s been more active recently, I want you to look out for him, I have the Joker to deal with." Bruce replied, his gaze distant as he mentally prepared for the night's challenges.
It had been a a few months since Y/n first became the Batgirl. Y/n often found herself in the wrong place at the wrong time, or perhaps it was the right place at the right time, depending on how one looked at it. As a bystander in Gotham City, she frequently stumbled upon scenes of crime and chaos, unwittingly becoming entangled in the city's never-ending struggle for order.
On one occasion, while walking home from work, Y/n witnessed a mugging in progress. Without hesitation, she sprang into action, using her self-defense skills to fend off the assailant and protect the victim. Little did she know, Batman had been monitoring the situation from the shadows, impressed by her bravery and resourcefulness.
This became a regular occurrence for Y/n after that, seeking out injustice in the city and protecting those in need. With each encounter, Y/n found herself drawn further into Batman's world, her actions catching his attention time and time again, forging an unexpected bond between herself and the Dark Knight.
Under Batman's guidance, Y/n evolved from a mere bystander into Batgirl, a symbol of hope and strength for the citizens of Gotham. With her skills and determination, she stood shoulder to shoulder with the Caped Crusader, ready to confront the darkness that threatened to consume their city.
The two of them went their separate ways, Y/n finding herself in the Narrows, poached on a building. And as if on cue, she heard screams coming from an alley. Immediately jumping into action, Y/n dropped down and rushed to the scene, and just as she expect, the man with a burlap mask stood over a helpless person, screaming and scratching on the floor.
"Refining your toxins, Scarecrow?" Y/n's voice echoed down the dimly lit alley, drawing his attention like a moth to a flame.
"Alone in the shadows, Batgirl?" Scarecrow's distorted voice floated back, his eerie presence sending shivers down Y/n's spine.
Without hesitation, Y/n surged forward, her determination driving her towards the looming figure of Scarecrow. Scarecrow's agility was surprising, a testament to his cunning and prowess.
Despite his speed, Y/n's athletic skills allowed her to gain ground. With a swift motion, she held out a Batarang, sending it spinning towards Scarecrow's feet. The makeshift trap worked like a charm, causing him to stumble and crash to the ground.
"Lost your footing?" Y/n taunted, her voice laced with determination.
"Lost your vision?" Scarecrow retorted, his words accompanied by a sudden burst of suspicious powder that engulfed Y/n's senses.
Coughing and disoriented, she struggled to maintain her balance as her surroundings blurred into a hazy fog.
In the midst of the chaos, Scarecrow seized the opportunity to strike, delivering a well-aimed kick that sent Y/n tumbling to the ground. With a pained groan, she collided with the unforgiving pavement, the impact jarring her senses and rattling her confidence.
As Scarecrow's footsteps faded into the distance, leaving behind only the distant echoes of the Narrows, Y/n cursed her carelessness. Still reeling from the encounter, she struggled to regain her bearings, her vision still clouded and her body aching from the fall.
"This better not be permanent," Y/n muttered under her breath, frustration evident in her voice as she struggled to regain her footing amidst the haze of her blurry vision.
With the aid of the wall for support, Y/n navigated her way out of the Narrows, determination guiding her steps despite her impaired sight. Fumbling for her walkie-talkie, she summoned Batman, her admission tinged with a hint of embarrassment.
"Hey, uh... Could you bring the Batmobile? I can't see," Y/n confessed, her tone a clear indication of her frustration.
"On my way," Batman's reassuring voice crackled through the device.
As she waited at the end of the alleyway, the familiar roar of the Batmobile's engine signaled Batman's arrival. He lifted the roof of the vehicle, his presence a comforting presence in the midst of Y/n's uncertainty.
"You getting in?" Batman's usual impatience brought a hint of levity to the situation, his words a welcome distraction from Y/n's predicament.
"Yeah, could you help me? I can't see properly," Y/n admitted, her voice tinged with embarrassment. "It's all just a black blob."
Without hesitation, Batman leaped out of the car, his strong hand reaching out to guide Y/n safely into the vehicle. As they embarked on their journey through the city's shadowy streets, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the steadfast ally by her side.
"Rough night?" Batman's gravelly voice broke the silence, cutting through the tension that hung in the air.
"You could say that," Y/n replied, her tone heavy with disappointment as she settled into the seat beside him. "Will my vision be like this permanently?" Y/n asked, the question bugging her for the last 10 minutes.
"Hard to tell with the Scarecrow, but you should be okay. It's a surprise he didn't use his fear toxin on you," Batman remarked, his voice betraying a hint of concern.
Y/n let out a sigh of resignation, her shoulders slumping as she leaned back against the seat. In the darkness of the Batmobile, surrounded by the faint hum of the engine and the steady rhythm of the city outside, she couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability. But even in her moment of uncertainty, she found solace in the presence of the silent guardian beside her, a reminder that she was never truly alone in the shadows of Gotham.
-
Fortunately for Y/n, her vision returned within an hour, relieving her of the temporary blindness. Despite Bruce's insistence that she call it a night and rest up, Y/n's determination to uncover more about their adversary remained unyielding. In the depths of the Batcave, she was immersed in her research, combing through databases and news articles in search of a lead.
"Thought you'd be down here, Master Bruce holding you back?" Alfred's familiar voice echoed through the cavernous space as he descended into the Batcave.
"No, I was supposed to head home an hour ago," Y/n admitted, her attention still fixed on the glowing screen before her.
"Well, shall I fetch you some supper then?" Alfred offered, ever the attentive caretaker.
"It's alright, Alfred. Thank you," Y/n replied, offering a grateful smile in his direction.
As Alfred approached, he cast a glance at the screen, taking note of Y/n's diligent research and the meticulous notes scattered around her workspace.
"My, you've certainly done quite the thorough job. It's no wonder you landed that internship," Alfred remarked, his tone filled with pride.
"You and I both know I only got that internship at Arkham because of Bruce's influence," Y/n laughed.
"You ought to give yourself more credit, Miss L/n," Alfred's voice held a gentle admonishment as he glanced over Y/n's work. "When is your first day, anyway?"
Glancing at the clock, Y/n realized it was already 1 AM. "Tomorrow," she answered.
"I beg of you to go home, Miss L/n. Your sleep schedule is bad enough as it is," Alfred urged, concern etched in his voice.
Y/n let out a weary sigh. "I guess I'll have to leave the Scarecrow for another time."
Y/n and Alfred made their way back up to Wayne Manor, Y/n gathering her belongings in preparation to depart. Despite her reluctance to leave her research behind, she knew that rest was necessary if she wanted to be at her best for the challenges that lay ahead. With one last glance at the Batcomputer, Y/n bid farewell to the Batcave, her mind already turning towards the mysteries that awaited her on her first day at Arkham.
-
Y/n's first day at Arkham Asylum began with a mix of anticipation and nervous energy. The towering, foreboding structure of the institution loomed against the gray skies of Gotham, its reputation preceding it.
Working at Arkham Asylum had always been a dream for Y/n, fueled by a deep fascination with the psychology of criminals. And there was no better place than Arkham. She was aware that Bruce had played a pivotal role in securing this internship for her, primarily to make it easier to access the criminals and their files. Yet, this knowledge did little to dampen her enthusiasm. In fact, she saw it as practical to use her role for the greater good, combining her academic interests with her goal to protect Gotham.
As she stepped through the heavy, security-laden doors, she was greeted by Dr. Penelope Young, one of Arkham's leading psychiatrists and her supervisor for the duration of the internship.
"Welcome to Arkham Asylum, Miss L/n. I'm Dr. Young. I'll be showing you around today and discussing what you can expect during your time here," Dr. Young said, offering a firm handshake that Y/n returned.
Their tour began in the more benign corridors of the asylum, where Dr. Young outlined the history of Arkham, its purpose, and its challenges. She spoke with a passion that contrasted the grim surroundings, her belief in rehabilitation and understanding of the human psyche evident in her every word.
"As you'll soon learn, Arkham is more than just a holding facility for Gotham's criminally insane. It's a place of complexity, where psychology and security intersect in ways you won't see anywhere else," Dr. Young explained as they navigated through secure checkpoints.
The tour included visits to various departments, including the high-security wards where Gotham's most notorious villains were held. Dr. Young's explanations were thorough, covering the protocols for dealing with dangerous inmates, the importance of mental health assessments, and the ongoing research aimed at better understanding and treating profound psychological disorders.
"Your role here, Miss L/n, will involve assisting with patient assessments, participating in therapy sessions, and contributing to our research projects. It's crucial work that not only helps us understand the minds of those we're treating but also aids in ensuring the safety of Gotham City," Dr. Young said, her tone serious yet encouraging.
As they concluded the tour in the library, filled with texts on psychology, criminology, and the history of Arkham itself, Dr. Young offered some final advice.
"Always remember, the work we do here is challenging and often thankless. But it's also incredibly important. You're going to see and experience things that will test you, but I believe you have the potential to make a real difference."
Y/n left the tour feeling a mixture of awe and trepidation. The weight of her responsibilities at Arkham Asylum was now fully realized, but so too was her determination to meet the challenges head-on. As she prepared for her first assignment, she couldn't help but feel that her journey into the heart of Gotham's darkness was only just beginning.
-
Patrolling the rooftops alongside Batman had become a familiar part of Y/n's night life, yet that particular night, her performance was far from her usual standard. Missteps, a lack of balance, and a series of other minor blunders affected her efforts. Aware of Bruce's patience, she nonetheless couldn't shake off the feeling that she was more of a liability than an asset to Batman during their late-night surveillance.
"Fuck, sorry," Y/n muttered, hastily picking herself up after her foot caught on an uneven crack on a rooftop in the Narrows.
Batman halted his advance, turning to face her with a concern that seemed to pierce through the shadows of his cowl. "You should head home, you need rest," he suggested.
Y/n's gaze dropped, a wave of embarrassment washing over her. She knew he was right, yet admitting it felt like conceding to a weakness she couldn't afford.
"You're exhausted. It's been a long day," Batman tried to reassure her, recognizing the toll the day's events had taken on her.
"I know, but I feel like I need to be here," Y/n insisted, her voice a mix of determination and frustration.
"Is this about the Scarecrow again?" Batman's question cut through the tension, his insight honing in on the heart of her persistence.
"...Yeah," Y/n admitted, a mix of resolve and vulnerability in her voice.
Her obsession with stopping Scarecrow had pushed her to her limits, yet she felt an unyielding need to confront the fear he spread across Gotham. In that moment, beneath the expanse of the night sky, her dedication to their cause was as clear as the weariness she fought against.
The Scarecrow was Y/n's first real challenge with one of Gotham's notorious Rogue's. Until now, her experiences had primarily involved run-ins with lesser-known criminals. Unmasking the Scarecrow, whose identity remained a mystery to all of Gotham, would be a monumental achievement for her.
"Why don't you hang back a bit? You can stay on the scene, but I'd rather you not engage in anything major," Batman suggested, his voice carrying a note of protective caution.
Y/n nodded in agreement. She decided to approach the situation with caution, opting for observation over direct confrontation. From her vantage point on a nearby rooftop, she kept a vigilant eye on the Narrows, tracking Batman's movements as he patrolled the shadowy labyrinth below. That's when she spotted him.
Quickly, she grabbed her radio to alert Batman. "Scarecrow spotted near the north apartments!" she reported, urgency lacing her voice.
As Batman sprang into action, heading towards the reported location, Y/n felt a surge of determination. She knew she couldn't just stand by. Moving with purpose, she leaped across rooftops, her movements a blend of precision and grace, as she closed in on the two. Her heart raced with a mix of excitement and fear, fully aware of the dangers that lay ahead yet driven by a deep-seated resolve to make a difference.
His pursuit was relentless, a testament to years of honing his skills for moments just like this. The Scarecrow, a master of terror and manipulation, darted ahead, his movements erratic and desperate, aware that the Dark Knight was closing in on him.
The Scarecrow, realizing the inevitability of his capture, turned to face Batman, a sinister smile playing across his lips, hidden beneath the grotesque mask that had become his signature.
In a swift movement, Scarecrow pulled from his tattered coat a small canister, unleashing a cloud of his fear toxin directly at Batman. The gas, a potent concoction of Scarecrow's own design, filled the air, a visible miasma of terror.
Batman, caught off-guard by the sudden assault, attempted to evade the cloud but inhaled a breath of the toxic fumes. The world around him twisted horrifyingly, his vision blurring as the gas took hold, plunging him into a nightmarish landscape of his own fears. Towering figures of his past adversaries loomed over him, their taunts echoing in his ears, while the loss of his parents replayed in agonizing detail, a never-ending cycle of pain and guilt.
Y/n's heart skipped a beat at the sight of Batman collapsing, overcome by the Scarecrow's fear toxin. Without hesitation, she reached out to Alfred through her radio.
"It's urgent. Batman's been incapacitated by Scarecrow's fear gas. You need to get him immediately," she relayed with urgency.
Without waiting for Alfred's confirmation, she sprung into action, her body moving almost on instinct. She descended from her vantage point into the alleyway below, her cape billowing behind her as she set her sights on the retreating figure of the Scarecrow.
"You just can't let it go, can you?" Scarecrow taunted, turning to hurl a canister of his sinister concoction in her direction.
The moment the toxin enveloped her, Y/n's reality twisted into a nightmarish tableau. She fell to the ground, a scream tearing from her lips as the shadows around her seemed to swell with judgment and scorn. But this was different, alongside the overwhelming fear, a heavy drowsiness dragged at her consciousness.
This was no ordinary fear toxin, she realized with a struggle to maintain her awareness. Her breaths came in labored gasps, each one a battle against the encroaching darkness. Her strength ebbed away, leaving her helpless on the cold, unforgiving ground of the alley. Her vision blurred, yet she could make out the Scarecrow's figure looming over her, his mask a grotesque visage that pulsated in her dimming sight.
As her field of view narrowed to a point, she saw Scarecrow bend down beside her, his hands reaching out to grasp her. Then, as if a curtain had fallen over her world, everything succumbed to darkness.
-
The throbbing in her head was the first sensation that pierced through the fog of unconsciousness, a relentless pounding that seemed to echo through her entire being. Gritting her teeth in discomfort, Y/n reached up, her fingers pressing into her temples in a futile attempt to sooth the pain. With her eyes still firmly shut, she sat up from the surface beneath her.
As she became more aware, her palm registered the unmistakable chill of metal against her skin. Hesitantly, she allowed her eyelids to part, squinting against the dim light that filled her unfamiliar surroundings. This place, cold, sterile, and decidedly unwelcoming, was far from the familiar confines of her home or the Batcave. Panic fluttered in her chest as the realization set in.
She found herself lying on a stark, metallic table, the centerpiece of what appeared to be a neglected laboratory. The air was thick with the scent of chemicals and decay, a testament to the room's dubious purposes. With a growing sense of dread, Y/n ran a hand through her hair, her movements halting as another alarming detail dawned on her, her mask was missing.
She took a sharp intake of breath as she frantically searched her surroundings, her heart racing. Though still clad in the protective gear of Batgirl, minus her utility belt, the absence of her mask left her exposed, vulnerable.
The sound of the door creaking open sent a jolt of adrenaline through her. She became tense, preparing for who might come through that door, her mind racing through possibilities and plans of escape.
As the door swung open, the Scarecrow stepped through, his presence immediately filling the room with a palpable sense of dread. His iconic, scratchy burlap mask seemed to leer at her, the tattered edges of his suit fluttering slightly with his movements. Y/n's heart sank, deep down, she'd known he would be her captor.
The realization of her vulnerability flashed through her mind, sparking a defiant glare, even as she attempted to shield her identity by casting her gaze downward.
"You needn't bother trying to hide now," Scarecrow's voice cut through the tense air, a smirk audible in his tone as he closed the distance between them. "I've seen all I need to see."
Acknowledging that hiding was no longer an option, Y/n understood that resistance might still sway the balance in her favor. With a burst of energy, she attempted to launch herself off the table, only to crumble to the ground, her legs betraying her strength.
"Easy, you've only just regained consciousness," Scarecrow taunted, his steps hastening towards her prone form.
In her struggle to stand back up, Scarecrow's hands suddenly steadied her, pulling her up with a firm grip on her arm. Yet, even in this vulnerable state, Y/n's resolve didn't falter. Her hand darted out, seizing a scalpel from a nearby table, and she held it towards Scarecrow, who instinctively raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. The air between them crackled with tension, each poised for the other's next move.
Scarecrow's voice was calm, yet firm. "You're hardly in a position to resist effectively. Let me help you back onto the table before you injure yourself further. The scalpel isn't necessary," he advised, his tone bordering on reasonable.
Y/n couldn’t help but notice how professionally he spoke.
"So you can subject me to more of your experiments? Yeah nah," she laughed, sarcastically.
Scarecrow, unfazed by her resistance, replied with a hint of a threat, "Whether you agree or not, you're in no condition to stand. It's only a matter of time before you collapse again."
She knew he was right. She could barely feel her legs, and the bits of sensation she did have was undeniable pain. With a reluctant sigh, Y/n let the scalpel clatter back onto the table.
Seeing her give in, Scarecrow lowered his hands and gently supported her around her waist, guiding her with a care that contrasted with his usual menace. He lifted her effortlessly, placing her back on the medical table with a carefulness that seemed out of character. Her legs dangled off the side, the height of the table leaving her feet dangling in the air, a subtle reminder of her current vulnerability.
"Why am I here?" Y/n demanded.
"Had I not intervened, you would be dead," Scarecrow replied.
"So, you hit me with your gas for shits and giggles? Or am I just another subject for your midnight experiments?" Y/n's tone was laced with anger.
"I never intended to expose you to the gas," Scarecrow clarified, moving to grab an item from a nearby table.
"And what? Your hand just slipped?" Y/n retaliated with sarcasm.
"I thought you were the Batman," Scarecrow confessed as he returned to her side.
"And how does that change anything?" Y/n challenged.
Ignoring her, he held a cup, what appeared to be cloudy water. Scarecrow pressed the cup into her hand.
"What's this?" Y/n asked, raising her brow.
"For your headache and numbed legs," Scarecrow responded.
Y/n eyed the cup warily, her skepticism evident. Scarecrow sighed, his voice distorted by his mask.
"If I intended harm, it would have been done already," he assured her.
"Then answer my question," Y/n pressed.
"What question?" Scarecrow responded quickly, playing the fool.
Y/n rolled her eyes. "Why does it matter that you gassed me if I work with Batman?"
Scarecrow remained silent, his gaze fixed on her. She returned his stare, peering into the depths of his blue eyes, an aspect she'd never noticed before, having never been this close to him without a fight.
"Why don’t you want to hurt me?" Y/n rephrased her question.
"Because I don’t want to," he replied simply.
Y/n's shoulders sagged in defeat as she took a sip from the cup, relieved to find it tasted just like water.
"What's your name?" Scarecrow's question caught her off guard.
Y/n shot him a judging glance. "Seriously? Are you dumb? Or do you think I am?"
Scarecrow chuckled, the sound crackled by his mask. "Your face isn't much of a secret now," he remarked.
"True, but a name would give away too much, wouldn't it? Besides, I doubt you'd share yours even if I asked," Y/n countered.
"Fair enough. Batgirl it remains," Scarecrow said.
Concern creased Y/n's brow as she broached the subject weighing on her mind. "So, what's your plan for me now?"
"You're not in any shape to leave just yet," Scarecrow observed.
"Okay, but when I am?" Y/n pressed.
Scarecrow hesitated. "I can't say for certain when that'll be," he admitted.
"You're the reason I'm drugged up…it was your toxin," Y/n pointed out.
"I didn't anticipate having to save anyone after using the gas," Scarecrow replied, his gaze drifting away.
Y/n sensed there was more to his reluctance than he let on. "Why won't you let me go?" she demanded.
"I told you—" Scarecrow began, but Y/n interjected firmly, "I want the real reason."
Scarecrow settled into a chair at a nearby desk.
"Aw, is the Scarecrow feeling lonely?" Y/n teased, her tone light despite the tension in the air.
Though she couldn't discern his expression behind the mask, she could practically feel the weight of his glare.
"Hey, if you keep up with that attitude, I might just have to pay you a visit in the Narrows," Y/n teased further, her words laden with playful defiance.
Y/n couldn't shake the uncertainty creeping into her mind. Was she really entertaining him with her banter?
"I suppose I'll have to hold you to that," Scarecrow retorted, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement.
Y/n couldn't believe what she was hearing. Did he actually want her to visit?
"...Batman must be worried about me," Y/n spoke aloud.
"You'd be correct. He's been searching the Narrows looking for you," Scarecrow confirmed.
She's now aware of their whereabouts. Somewhere in the Narrows, not entirely helpful, but better than nothing.
Relief washed over Y/n. "So he's okay then?" she asked anxiously.
"I only administered a small dose. He's perfectly fine," Scarecrow reassured her.
"Can I leave in about 10 minutes?" Y/n requested.
Scarecrow sighed. "Yes, but let me perform one final check first," he insisted.
He approached her. "Can you stand?"
Y/n noticed a tingling sensation in her legs, a welcome sign of returning strength. She gingerly hopped off the metal table, feeling Scarecrow's supportive grip immediately. Taking a moment to steady herself with his assistance, she eventually managed to push him away gently.
"Considering how quickly Batman bounced back, I'm sure he'll be able to assist you if you encounter any further issues," Scarecrow remarked.
"So, can I go?" Y/n inquired.
"Yes, but you'll be blindfolded," Scarecrow detailed.
Y/n watched as Scarecrow grabbed an unexpected item from his coat, her mask which she had completely forgotten about. She accepted it, placing it securely back on her face. Following this, he produced a blindfold, carefully tying it around her eyes.
"What about my utility belt?" she questioned.
"It's been left in the alley. I expect Batman has already located it with the tracker," Scarecrow informed her.
It made sense, had the belt been here, Batman would have pinpointed her location instantly due to its tracking device.
"Give me your hand," Scarecrow said.
Y/n reached out, feeling Scarecrow's grip. His hand was bare, contrasting with her gloved one, allowing her to feel the unique texture of his skin. Together, they navigated towards what Y/n presumed was the exit.
"Mind your step," Scarecrow instructed.
With extra caution, Y/n raised her foot higher than usual, stepping over what she imagined was the door frame. The sound of metal underfoot suggested they had transitioned onto a metallic grate.
"Coming up to some stairs," Scarecrow said.
As Scarecrow slightly descended, he guided Y/n to the first step. Clutching Scarecrow's hand for support, her free hand found a handrail. They carefully descended the staircase together.
"Last step," Scarecrow informed her.
Her feet found solid concrete below. They continued their journey outside, Y/n blind to their surroundings. After about ten minutes wandering the Narrows in silence, Scarecrow halted.
"I'm going to spin you so you won't know which direction we came from," Scarecrow explained.
Y/n snorted, "Feels like a weird game," she joked.
Gently, Scarecrow placed his hands on her shoulders and started to spin her. Y/n laughed, her steps becoming unsteady as she spun. Once she was sufficiently dizzy, Scarecrow ceased the spinning.
"Can I take off the blindfold now?" Y/n asked.
Scarecrow loosened the knot, freeing her from the blindfold. Blinking against the light, she surveyed her surroundings, her balance off from the spinning.
"I have no idea where I am," she admitted, scanning the area.
"That was the point," Scarecrow replied.
A small smile formed on her lips. "Hey, thanks for not killing me," she uttered, a phrase she never imagined saying.
"I apoligize for using the gas on you," Scarecrow said.
"I appreciate the apology...So! See you around?" Y/n tilted her head, looking at him.
Scarecrow seemed taken aback. "You aren't planning to tackling me to the ground for Batman?"
She shook her head.
"Then, yes... until next time, Batgirl," Scarecrow affirmed.
With that, Y/n walked away, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the alley. Glancing back one last time, she found he had vanished into the shadows.
As Y/n made her way towards the mouth of the alley, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows with a swift, purposeful stride. The figure's imposing silhouette was unmistakable against the dimly lit street. Batman, cloaked in his iconic cape, his gaze fixed intently ahead.
He approached Y/n, his presence commanding yet reassuring. "Where have you been?" Batman's voice, deep and grave.
Although aggressive, she knew it was his way of showing his concern.
Y/n sighed. "I'm fine, thanks! But I wouldn’t have been if not for an unexpected turn of events," she responded, her voice a mix of relief and bewilderment.
Batman surveyed the surroundings with a beading eye, then returned his attention to Y/n. "Scarecrow?" he asked, already piecing together the encounter from the clues left behind.
"Yep," Y/n confirmed.
Batman summoned the Batmobile with a press of a button, and it swiftly glided around the corner, halting with precision in front of them. "We'll discuss it on the way," Batman suggested, sliding into the driver's seat of the Batmobile.
Y/n quickly followed, hopping into the passenger seat. The top sealed shut with a soft hiss, and they set off toward the Batcave, the engine's low rumble filling the air.
"As soon as you were hit with the toxin, I ran after Scarecrow. I know you said not to but I couldn't just stand by," Y/n recounted. "He hit me with some kind of super version of his toxin... I blacked out and later woke up in his lab... He had saved my life," she reflected, still piecing together the surreal events.
"Scarecrow...saved you...after he was the one to endanger you..." Batman's voice betrayed a hint of skepticism.
"Exactly... He said he mistook me for you and used a more lethal toxin," Y/n clarified.
Batman mulled over the information, "This must be part of some elaborate scheme."
"...When I was unconscious, he took off my mask," Y/n added quietly, the weight of her vulnerability in that moment hanging between them.
"We can't change what's happened," Batman responded with an unexpected calm. "For now, you need to stay at the batcave."
Y/n understood the protective gesture, Batman was ensuring her safety. This meant her encounters with Scarecrow would be on hold, a disappointing, yet perhaps for the best, turn of events.
-
Upon their arrival at the Batcave, Bruce insisted on conducting his own check up of Y/n to ensure her well-being. As he meticulously checked her condition, Y/n found her thoughts drifting back to Scarecrow.
The lanky figure behind the coarse, burlap mask now intrigued her more than ever. Despite her efforts to thwart his plans and her alliance with Batman, Scarecrow had spared her life. His actions defied the logic that he should have seen her as a direct threat, deserving of his lethal wrath.
Throughout their encounters, Scarecrow had consistently avoided using his fear toxin on her, opting for less harmful methods. And on the one occasion he did administer it, he promptly provided an antidote and went as far as looking after her back at his lab.
What puzzled her further was his reluctance, or perhaps refusal, to let her leave. There seemed to be an underlying reason he didn't want her to go, adding layers to his already complex persona. This unexpected mercy and the mystery shrouding his true intentions only deepened Y/n's curiosity about the man beneath the mask.
-
Y/n's second week interning at Arkham was unfolding better than she'd anticipated. Tasked with interacting with the less dangerous patients, she found them peculiar yet unexpectedly sweet, a stark contrast to her initial assumptions. Each person, in their own right, contributed to the unique tapestry of Arkham's inhabitants.
Walking through the asylum's corridors on her way to Dr. Young's office with a stack of files in hand, Y/n was absorbed in her thoughts, hardly aware of her surroundings. This lack of attention led to a collision with a passerby, resulting in her files scattering across the floor.
"Shit, sorry," she blurted out, immediately kneeling to gather the scattered documents.
The individual she bumped into stood frozen, offering no assistance or reaction. Once she collected her files and stood up to face him, she found herself looking at a tall, slender man adorned with rectangular, wire-framed glasses, his expression one of bafflement.
"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention," she said, hoping to break the ice.
Yet, the man remained silent, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open, offering nothing but a fixed stare. With an awkward smile, Y/n excused herself, moving past him to continue on her way.
"Sorry, again... Have a good day," she added, before turning her focus forward and spotting Dr. Young near her office.
"Met Dr. Crane, have you?" Dr. Young asked, observing the scene.
Glancing back, Y/n saw the man, now identified as Dr. Crane, retreating hastily down the hallway.
"Apparently. He a quiet one?" Y/n asked, intrigued by the unusual man.
"Not at all," Dr. Young confided with a hint of amusement. "He's known for being quite outspoken and, frankly, a bit abrasive. But let's keep that between us."
Y/n let out a soft chuckle, appreciating the candid insight. Together, they proceeded into Dr. Young's office. As they delved into their tasks and discussions, the brief encounter with Dr. Crane swiftly faded from Y/n's mind.
-
Barely two hours had passed, with Y/n engrossed in her task of organizing files, when Dr. Young re-entered the office, fresh from her break.
"It seems you've caught the attention of Dr. Crane," Dr. Young remarked as she stepped inside.
Y/n glanced up, puzzled. "Huh?"
Dr. Young, settling into her chair with a chuckle. "Well, in the cafeteria, Dr. Crane cam up to me out of the blue to ask about you. Considering he never engages in conversation unless it's strictly necessary, that was quite the surprise!"
Curiosity piqued, Y/n continued, "What exactly did he ask about?"
"Just your name and your role here," Dr. Young replied with a smile.
The thought of garnering anyone's interest, let alone Dr. Crane's, hadn't crossed Y/n's mind. Yet, she brushed it off, doubting it would have any significant impact on her internship.
-
Back at her home, Y/n found herself sprawled on her bed, engulfed in the unfamiliar territory of idleness. With Bruce sidelining her from night patrols, the once exhilarating darkness of Gotham's nights now stretched endlessly before her, filled with nothing but the quiet.
Letting out a sigh, she flung her book aside, a tangible sign of her growing restlessness. Reluctantly, she rose and drifted towards her computer, where the glow of her screen illuminated tabs of research left untouched since yesterday. Though the news articles of Scarecrow she had found offered little in the way of breakthroughs, she held onto the hope they might yet yield something of value.
It was then that a sudden thud against her window broke the silence, startling her. Turning to look, she expected to find nothing more unusual than a disoriented bird that flew into it. However, the repeated thudding suggested this was no ordinary accident.
With a sigh, Y/n approached the window to investigate. A crow was the culprit, determinedly striking the glass over and over. Attempting to shoo it away with a tap against the window proved futile, the bird was either stubborn or really dumb. About to turn away in defeat, Y/n noticed something clutched in the crow's beak, she naturally had to investigate.
Concerned it might be choking, she opened the window to offer assistance. The crow, uninvited, hopped boldly into her room and onto her bed.
"Hey! You’re gonna get my shit all dirty!" Y/n protested, trying to usher it off.
Yet the crow remained unbothered, stationed firmly on her bed. With a curious tilt of its head, it released its hold, letting the object, a piece of paper, fall onto her duvet.
Realizing the crow was unharmed, Y/n let out a sigh. "Okay, you can leave now," she suggested, gesturing towards the open window.
However, the crow remained stationary, its gaze fixed on her as if it had more to say. They stared at one another awkwardly, the air between them thick with uncertainty. The crow nudged the piece of paper with its beak, then lifted its eyes to hers, prompting her attention.
Reluctantly, Y/n shifted her focus to the paper, curiosity getting the better of her. The paper was torn and foled. She unfolded the ripped fragment to reveal a message that sent a jolt of shock through her.
'Found you.'
The simplicity of the message belied its ominous intent, transforming her initial confusion into a wave of dread. "Holy fuck," she muttered, her pulse quickening.
As if its mission was accomplished, the crow took its leave, soaring out the window. Y/n raced to the window, a futile attempt to keep it from leaving. "Oi!"
But her plea vanished into the night, leaving her to face the silence of her room. The solitude that had once been merely boring now felt ominously oppressive.
How had Scarecrow found her? The question echoed in her mind, a reminder that her sense of security was more fragile than she had ever imagined.
Y/n wasted no time in dialing Bruce's number, her fingers trembling with anxiety as she waited for him to pick up. When he finally answered, she didn't bother with pleasantries.
"He found me," she blurted out in a tense whisper.
"Y/n? What are you talk-?" Bruce paused. “How?”
"I don't know how he did it, Bruce. There's no way he could have tracked me from that night," Y/n replied, her nerves palpable. “He sent his fucking pet crow, or something to my window with a little note saying he found me.”
"I think it would be safest for you to stay at my place for a while," Bruce suggested, his tone urgent.
"Yeah, but what if he figures out… you know?" Y/n's worry crept into her voice.
"Is there anywhere else you can go?" Bruce asked, his concern evident.
Y/n's mind raced, but she couldn't think of any safe alternatives. "Not really," she admitted reluctantly.
"Okay, just stay safe. I'll be checking up on you," Bruce instructed firmly.
"I'll do my best," Y/n sighed, feeling a sense of dread settle over her as the call ended.
She dropped her phone on her bed along with herself. Sitting on her bed, she ran her hand down her face groaning. She just prayed he was as nice as he was the night before.
-
The next day, Y/n felt a sense of unease as she walked through the corridors of Arkham towards Dr. Young's office. Upon entering, she was met not only by Dr. Young, but also by the presence of Dr. Crane.
"Good morning, Y/n. I'm sure you're acquainted with Dr. Crane by now," Dr. Young gestured towards the man in the room.
Y/n nodded awkwardly, turning her attention to Dr. Crane. "Hello, Dr. Crane," she greeted, extending her hand for a shake.
"Miss L/n," he replied, his voice crisp and professional as he took her hand.
There was something strangely familiar about his touch, though Y/n couldn't quite place it. Brushing it off as mere coincidence, she focused on the conversation at hand.
"Well, we've decided to switch things up a bit and provide you with more opportunities around the asylum. Today, Dr. Crane has kindly offered to mentor you instead of me," Dr. Young explained.
Y/n nodded, trying to maintain her composure. "Oh... cool," she replied, though her uncertainty lingered beneath the surface.
"My work primarily focuses on the higher-risk patients, so today I'll be showing you around those areas of the asylum," Dr. Crane explained, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Alright, shall we get started?" Y/n asked, eager to begin.
"Certainly," Dr. Crane replied, opening the door for Y/n to exit first. She thanked him and stepped into the hallway, where Dr. Crane joined her.
"So, Miss L/n, what led you to Arkham?" Dr. Crane inquired, initiating conversation.
"Well, I studied at Gotham University for five years and managed to get an internship here. It's an opportunity I couldn't pass up," Y/n replied.
Dr. Crane nodded, showing interest. "You're interested in psychology, I assume?"
"Naturally," Y/n confirmed.
"And outside of Arkham, how do you spend your time?" Dr. Crane asked, delving deeper.
Y/n wasn't prepared for such a personal question, and she found herself struggling to formulate an answer. In truth, much of her time was split between intensive research and her activities as a vigilante. "Uh... research mostly," she replied, keeping her answer vague.
"Any specific areas of focus?" Dr. Crane probed further.
"Primarily psychology-related topics, and occasionally delving into articles about various personalities in Gotham," Y/n answered, trying to keep her response casual.
"Ah, the Gotham Rogues, I presume? Have any in particular piqued your interest?" Dr. Crane inquired, his gaze lingering on her as they made their way towards the elevator.
Y/n had been informed by Dr. Young that small talk was rarely on Dr. Crane's agenda, suggesting his continuous questions might stem from a lack of social que. Yet, as a psychiatrist, his understanding of social dynamics should be adept, making his approach puzzling.
"Ah, well... each of them are interesting in their own way, to say the least," Y/n replied, deflecting deflecting to keep the conversation neutral.
Acknowledging her response with a nod, Dr. Crane diverted his eyes ahead, the silence momentarily enveloping them as they approached and entered the elevator. With a practiced motion, he swiped his keycard and selected their destination floor.
The elevator began its descent in silence, the hum of its mechanism filling the small space. Dr. Crane stood with a composed posture, hands clasped behind his back, while Y/n could feel the tension in the air, an undercurrent of unspoken thoughts swirling between them.
After a moment, Dr. Crane broke the silence. "The study of fear is particularly fascinating, don't you think?" he started, his tone measured, eyes fixed on the elevator doors as if addressing the question to himself. "It's primal, yet so complex. A fundamental emotion that can be both a hindrance and a survival mechanism."
Y/n, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation, nodded in agreement. "Yes, it's quite a paradox. It shapes so much of human behavior, yet we understand so little about its underpinnings."
The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival at the high-risk patient floor. As the doors slid open, Dr. Crane stepped out, gesturing for Y/n to follow. "Indeed. And it's within these walls that fear becomes a canvas, each patient painting their own portrait of terror."
The topic of their conversation enveloped Y/n in a sense of unease. While it was natural for a psychiatrist to delve into subjects like fear, given her recent unsettling situation, discussing it now stirred an unwelcome and deep-seated discomfort within her.
They walked through a secured door after Dr. Crane keyed in a code, entering a corridor lined with reinforced glass cells. The patients inside varied in their reactions to the newcomers, some pressed close to observe them, others retreated into shadows, and a few remained indifferent, lost in their own worlds.
"As you'll see today, our approach to treatment varies greatly, tailored to each patient's specific needs and... inclinations," Dr. Crane continued, leading Y/n past the cells. "Observation and understanding is key. Fear can be both a lock and a key in our field."
Y/n felt a chill run down her spine, not just from the atmosphere of the high-risk ward but from Dr. Crane's words. They echoed with a depth of knowledge and an intensity that felt almost too personal, as if fear itself was a familiar friend to him.
As they continued their tour, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that Dr. Crane was studying her just as much as he was explaining the procedures and philosophies of Arkham Asylum. There was a calculated curiosity in his gaze, a probing quality that made her wonder what he saw when he looked at her.
Their footsteps echoed softly as they walked through the corridor, eventually halting in front of a door.
"This," he announced, ushering the door open with a gentle push, "is my office."
Crossing into the new space, Y/n found herself standing somewhat awkwardly, uncertain of what was to come next.
"I have a few patient appointments scheduled today. You'll have the opportunity to observe. But first, there are some reports I need to deal with. I imagine you have tasks of your own to do in the meantime?" he suggested.
With a nod from Y/n, he settled into his chair behind the desk, drawing out several files and a pen. As he began to write, Y/n couldn't help but observe him, a sense of déjà vu washing over her. There was an inexplicable familiarity in his presence that she couldn't quite identify.
Catching her gaze, he looked up, peering over his glasses. "Is there something on your mind?" he asked.
Y/n hesitated for a moment, considering her response carefully. She wasn't sure if she should bring up her recent encounter with the Scarecrow, especially given Dr. Crane's interest in fear and psychology. But something about his demeanor encouraged her to speak up. She cracked it down to the fact that he was around higher risk patients at arkham so he should understand.
Y/n hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. She didn't want to alarm Dr. Crane or reveal too much about her involvement with Gotham's underworld.
"Well, actually..." she began, her voice measured. "I recently had a rather unusual encounter with someone who... operates outside the norms, let's say."
Dr. Crane raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Go on," he prompted, leaning forward slightly.
"There's this... guy," she began, her voice thoughtful. "Who put me in a rather diffucult situation. But instead of leaving me in trouble, this guy… helped me. He claimed that his actions were never intended to inconvenience me, but rather someone else entirely. It's all rather confusing to me."
As she spoke, Dr. Crane listened attentively, his analytical gaze fixed on her. There was a calculating intensity in his eyes that sent a shiver down her spine, but she pushed past it, determined to convey the essence of her experience without divulging too much.
He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers thoughtfully. “Why do you think he wouldn’t have helped you?” he asked.
“Well this... guy... well, he’s not exactly known for his generosity,” Y/n said, choosing her words carefully.
"I see," he murmured, his tone contemplative. "It seems you've had quite the... encounter."
Y/n nodded, relieved that she had managed to convey the situation without revealing too many details.
“Well... what about the situation confuses you?” he asked.
“The fact that he helped me, I just don’t understand it,” Y/n said.
“Had you encountered this individual prior to that?” Dr. Crane inquired.
“Yes, and he wasn’t particularly pleasant,” Y/n replied.
“Perhaps he had a change of heart, felt remorse... or maybe you interested him in some way,” Dr. Crane suggested.
Y/n recognized that Dr. Crane might not offer much assistance, especially since her account was far from the complete truth, but she valued his perspective.
“Yeah... maybe,” she said, considering his viewpoint.
-
The two appointments proceeded smoothly. The first patient was a paranoid individual, tormented by incessant fears of lurking threats in the shadows. As for the second patient was a woman struggling with intense anxiety and recurring nightmares. Dr. Crane navigated through their sessions with his calmness and precision, offering insightful observations and gentle guidance.
As the day progressed, Y/n found herself drawn into the complexities of the patients' minds, witnessing firsthand the challenges they faced and the therapeutic approaches employed by Dr. Crane.
By the end of the day, Y/n felt a newfound respect for Dr. Crane's expertise and a deeper curiosity about the human psyche.
Leaving Arkham, they boarded the Akrham train heading to the city center. "I trust today has been insightful for you," Dr. Crane remarked as they found their seats.
The clatter of the train tracks provided a rhythmic backdrop to their conversation as they settled into their seats. Y/n nodded, reflecting on the day's events. "Definitely," she replied. "It's given me a lot to think about."
Dr. Crane inclined his head, his gaze thoughtful. "Understanding the human mind is a continuous journey, filled with both challenges and revelations," he remarked. "But it's a journey worth undertaking."
Y/n nodded in agreement, absorbing his words. As the train rumbled on, she noticed that her stop was nearing.
"Thank you, Dr. Crane. You've been a really amazing mentor today," Y/n expressed her gratitude.
Dr. Crane nodded, acknowledging her gratitude. "You're welcome, Y/n. If you ever need any guidance or have any questions in the future, feel free to reach out," he said, his tone surprisingly warm.
As the train slowed to a stop at Y/n's station, she gathered her belongings and stood up. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you again," she said, offering a polite smile before stepping off the train.
"Have a safe walk home," Dr. Crane bid farewell as the train doors slid shut.
As she walked away from the station, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of curiosity about Dr. Crane. There was something intriguing about him, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. But for now, she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the rest of her day ahead.
Alone in the dark, a wave of fear washed over her. Her home was just a ten-minute walk from the station, but after receiving that ominous message yesterday, she felt more uneasy than usual.
The usual nightly weirdos on the street didn't bother her much, no, it was the thought of encountering Scarecrow that sent shivers down her spine.
As she walked, a group of guys stepped out from a dark alley, eyeing her with leering grins. "Hey, sweetheart, looking for some company?" one of them called out, his tone dripping with sleaze.
Y/n rolled her eyes, unimpressed by their attempts to intimidate her. "Sorry, boys, not interested," she replied, quickening her pace.
As they closed in, Y/n sprang into action with lightning speed. In one fluid motion, she lunged towards the nearest assailant, her hands moving with precision. With a swift twist, she disarmed him, the weapon clattering to the ground with a metallic clang.
Before the others could react, Y/n hit him with calculated strikes, each one finding its mark with pinpoint accuracy. With each opponent she incapacitated, the threat diminished, until finally, all that remained was a pile of defeated adversaries at her feet.
Just as she thought the situation was under control, a familiar chill ran down her spine. The dim streetlight cast eerie shadows as Scarecrow emerged from the darkness, his silhouette looming ominously. Y/n's heart raced, her muscles tensing in anticipation.
The air seemed to thicken with tension as Scarecrow's gaze swept over the scene. She braced herself as the Scarecrow raised his hand, expecting the worst. Shielding her face, she awaited the inevitable assault, but instead, she heard screams erupting behind her.
Reluctantly lowering her arms, she turned to witness a man writhing on the ground, his cries echoing through the deserted street beside a discarded firearm. Her gaze snapped back to the Scarecrow, her eyes widening in astonishment.
"One missed," he remarked coolly.
“Scarecrow…” she uttered, caught between greeting him and still processing the situation.
“Y/n,” he acknowledged.
“So...you know my name now,” she remarked, her tone barely masking her worry.
“Would you prefer I call you Batgirl still?” he asked, sarcastically.
“I suppose there’s no point,” Y/n shrugged, conceding to the truth.
Observing him in the dimly lit street, she couldn't help but notice his eerie yet intriguing presence. “Nice suit,” she commented, attempting to break the tension.
“Thank you,” he replied courteously, his mask concealing any expression.
Despite his seemingly benign demeanor, she couldn't shake off her unease about his sudden appearance. “What are you doing here?” she probed cautiously.
“Making sure you got home safely,” he responded matter-of-factly.
“You’re following me?” she questioned, her suspicion growing palpable.
“Looks that way,” he confirmed, his voice protraying no hint of emotion.
“...I’ll be off then,” she stated, turning to head back home.
His footsteps echoed behind her, prompting her to halt and face him. “You’re still here?”
"You don’t think I was just going to leave,” he remarked.
“Then can you at least not stalk behind me?” Y/n requested, her tone surprisingly composed despite her lingering unease.
Closing the distance between them, he fell into step beside her. “You know Batman might find you,” she warned.
“Not tonight, I saw him off chasing the Penguin,” he assured her.
Y/n looked ahead, contemplating their unusual companionship. “So… are you going to hurt me?” she questioned, her voice hinting her vulnerability.
“I didn’t hurt you before, why would I now?” he countered.
“Well, why else are you here?” she pressed, her curiosity piqued.
“It was you that said you’d ‘see me around’,” Scarecrow reminded her.
She recalled their earlier exchange, surprised that he remembered. “I didn’t think you’d remember… or care,” she admitted.
They lapsed into silence for a moment before Y/n broke it. “How did you find me?” she asked the question that was weighing on her mind since she got the note.
“It was coincidence,” Scarecrow replied cryptically.
“Seriously! That's all?” Y/n protested.
“I saw you... and gaining access to you was a simple matter after that,” he explained.
Y/n paused, contemplating the implications of his words.
“Wait, so you mean to say... Did I see you around?” Y/n's curiosity peaked.
Scarecrow's silence spoke volumes, confirming her suspicions. Y/n's mind raced, attempting to pinpoint any instance where she could have crossed paths with Scarecrow during the day, but nothing came to mind.
"You're annoying, you know that? Why can't you just tell me who you are?" Y/n pressed, frustration lacing her words.
"And give you the chance to share with your caped crusader? I think not," Scarecrow retorted with a hint of amusement in his distorted voice.
Y/n scowled, "This is bullshit. What kind of friend are you?"
"Friend?" Scarecrow echoed, a note of mock surprise in his tone.
Realizing she had referred to him as a friend, Y/n hesitated, "Well… I don’t know."
"Considering me a friend? That's rather... optimistic of you," Scarecrow jested.
"You know what? Fuck you," Y/n snapped, pushing him away in annoyance.
Scarecrow's laughter, distorted and chilling, filled the air.
"About that crow yesterday..." Y/n shifted the topic.
"Ah, yes, Craw," Scarecrow interjected.
"Craw... you named your bird after the sound it makes? What are you, five?" Y/n couldn't help but mock his choice.
"Feeling particularly bitey today, aren't we?" Scarecrow remarked with a hint of amusement.
"I'm just pointing out the obvious. You could have called him anything and you settled on 'Craw'? It's like naming a cat 'Meow' or a dog ‘Woof’," Y/n countered.
"I doubt your question was solely to critique my naming choices," Scarecrow deflected, steering the conversation forward.
"So, you have a trained crow... cool," Y/n conceded.
With a snap of his fingers, Scarecrow summoned the crow, which gracefully swooped down to perch on his shoulder.
"Fuck, that’s impressive," Y/n admitted, genuinely taken aback.
"He's a good companion," Scarecrow acknowledged, affectionately caressing the crow's feathered chest.
"And yet, when I mention friendship, I'm desperate?" Y/n teased with a scoff.
"I'm merely taken aback... You haven't even tried to call Batman on me yet," Scarecrow observed.
"Well, if he can have his criminal friend, I don't see why I shouldn't either," Y/n reasoned, thinking about Bruces weird thing with Catwomen.
"It only seems fair," Scarecrow conceded with a nod.
As they approached her apartment complex, Y/n paused and faced Scarecrow.
"I guess this is where I leave you," she remarked, a hint of reluctance in her tone as she gestured towards the looming building of her apartment complex.
Scarecrow tilted his head slightly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than usual. "Seems so. You'll be safe here, I presume?"
Y/n couldn't help but feel a pang of irony at the question, considering who it was coming from. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks for helping me back there," she quipped, offering him a small, genuine smile.
Scarecrow nodded once, sharply, as if dismissing any need for gratitude. "Take care, Y/n."
With those parting words, he turned and disappeared into the shadows from where he came, leaving Y/n to stare after him for a long moment. Shaking her head slightly, as if to clear it from the surreal encounter, she turned and headed towards her apartment, her mind swirling with thoughts about the night's events and the enigmatic figure that had just left her side.
-
The anticipation for her next encounter with Scarecrow had always been tinged with impatience, but now, there was a distinct shift in her desires. Gone was the sole focus on capturing him, instead, she found herself wanting to talk, even hang out with the guy.
Wandering the corridors of Arkham, her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by an exasperated shout not far from her location. “Damn bird!” echoed off the sterile walls.
Curious, Y/n turned on her heel to investigate. A large bird flying through the hallway, causing a commotion. But this was no ordinary crow, as it swooped closer, she recognized it instantly. Craw, Scarecrow's supposed good companion.
As the crow landed gracefully before her, Y/n crouched down, gently scooping him up. The security guard, panting from the chase, approached with a look of annoyance plastered across his face.
“Stupid bird,” he muttered, reaching out to snatch Craw away.
Y/n, cradling the crow protectively, assured him, “It's fine, I've got this. I'll make sure he's put outside.”
The guard, too worn out to argue further, simply shrugged and departed. Alone now, Y/n shifted her focus to Craw, who seemed quite content in her grasp.
Noticing a piece of paper held in his beak, she gently grabbed it, speaking softly to the crow, “Hey there, pretty. How did you manage to find me here?”
Placing Craw on her shoulder, she unfolded the note.
‘I’ll see you tonight.’
A smile unknowingly crept across her face as she read the message. Shortly after, Craw took flight from her shoulder, darting down the corridor.
“No! Craw, I need to take you outside!” she called after him, her plea falling on deaf ears.
With a resigned sigh, she watched him disappear deeper into the Asylum. “Well, he's someone else's problem now.”
Despite the mild chaos, the note clutched in her hand warmed her heart, igniting a flutter of excitement for what the evening might bring.
-
The walk home felt different for Y/n this evening. Each shadow cast by the dim streetlights seemed to promise the appearance of Scarecrow, echoing his note that said they would meet again. With every step, her anticipation grew, turning each corner with a mix of eagerness and anxiety, expecting to find him waiting in the familiar alley where their paths often crossed. But tonight, the alley remained empty.
The silence of the alleyway, usually filled with the tension of their encounters, now hung heavy with disappointment. She lingered for a moment, scanning the shadows and empty spaces where he might have stood, half-hoping for the rustle of his coat or the soft click of his approach. But there was nothing. Just the quiet of the night and the distant hum of the city.
As she continued her walk home, the excitement that had quickened her steps faded into a dull ache of letdown. Thoughts raced through her mind, pondering why he hadn't appeared. Had something happened to him? Had Batman managed to intervene?
Reaching her apartment, Y/n couldn't shake the sense of solitude that enveloped her. Inside, the quiet of her home only amplified her disappointment. With a heavy sigh, Y/n resigned herself to the evening's solitude, dropping onto her bed.
As she lay in the quiet of her room, Y/n found herself wrestling with thoughts that mocked her for entertaining the idea of a friendship with someone as complex and dangerous as Scarecrow. How could she, grounded in her own principles and duties, truly expect to build a connection with a figure who thrived in the shadows, a master of fear?
Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a thump against her window. Startled, she glanced up, only to find the familiar silhouette of a crow striking the glass. Hurrying over, she opened the window, allowing Craw to flutter into the room. Peering out the window, her pulse quickened at the sight below.
Scarecrow stood on the ground, gazing up at her with his usual get-up.
"May I come up?" his voice floated up to her.
Without hesitation, she swung onto the fire escape, releasing the ladder for him. As he ascended, a mixture of surprise and anticipation filled her.
"Why are you here?" she inquired, as he stepped through the window into her room.
"I said I'd see you tonight," he replied.
"I thought you’d just walk me home," she admitted, a smile playing on her lips despite herself.
"Indeed, I intended to, but I was held up," Scarecrow said, his voice carrying a touch of regret.
Inside her room, with the city's night as their backdrop, she couldn't help but jest, "So, the man behind the mask has a life?"
Scarecrow chuckled below the mask, “That I do.”
Now settled in her room, Y/n found a comfortable spot on her bed, her back resting gently against the headboard.
With a curious tilt of her head, she ventured, "Could I possibly hear more about the man beneath the mask?"
He hesitated for a moment before answering, "I was caught up at work, actual work, something that required my immediate attention."
This prompted Y/n to recall her little interaction with his crow eariler. "Speaking of work, how did you manage to send Craw into Arkham?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Let's just say he found his way through a window," he replied,criptically.
Scarecrow chose a spot at the foot of her bed, directly opposite her, and gracefully seated himself. Craw saw it as an opportunity to hopped onto his thigh, finding comfort in his familiar presence.
As they sat in Y/n's room, the silence between them was palpable. Y/n couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. Curiosity, apprehension, and a strange sense of comfort in Scarecrow's presence. She studied him closely, trying to decipher the man, but his expression remained hidden.
"So, what really brings you here tonight?" Y/n finally broke the silence, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness.
Scarecrow glanced at her, his gaze piercing. "I wanted to check on you," he replied simply.
Y/n raised an eyebrow, skeptical of his intentions. "Check on me?" she echoed, searching his face for any hint of deception.
"Yes," Scarecrow affirmed, his tone unwavering. "After our encounter the other night, I thought I should make sure you're okay."
Y/n's initial skepticism softened slightly, replaced by a flicker of surprise. Despite their strange relationship, Scarecrow's concern for her well-being was unexpected.
"I'm fine," Y/n reassured him, offering a small smile. "But why go through the trouble? You're not exactly known for your kindness."
Scarecrow's lips quirked into a faint smile, the gesture almost imperceptible. "Perhaps I'm not as one-dimensional as you think," he remarked.
Y/n's curiosity piqued at his response, but before she could delve further, there was a sudden knock on her apartment door.
“Y/n? I called you but you didn’t answer,” it was Bruce.
The sudden interruption sent Y/n's heart racing, a surge of panic flooding her as she heard Bruce's voice through the door. She momentarily froze, realizing the difficult situation she was in. Glancing frantically at Scarecrow, she leaped into action, her movements swift and desperate.
"Under the bed, now!" she hissed, urgency lacing her whisper as she practically shoved Scarecrow towards the hiding spot.
Without hesitation, Scarecrow complied, slipping under the bed. No sooner had he vanished from sight than Y/n dashed to the apartment's entrance, her mind racing with excuses.
"Hey, Bruce, sorry about that. My phone's been on silent, what’s up?" she managed to say with a feigned nonchalance as she swung the door open, greeting him with a practiced casualness.
"I said I'd swing by to check on you. Everything's been okay lately?" Bruce asked, stepping past the threshold with a concerned glance.
"Yep, all good here," Y/n replied, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.
Y/n found herself desperately seeking a solution that wouldn't raise Bruce's suspicions, yet every moment he lingered increased the risk of Scarecrow's presence unmasking Bruce's own secret identity. Trapped between a rock and a hard place, she was at a loss, her mind racing for a strategy that seemed increasingly elusive.
Then, an ominous thump from her bedroom shattered the tense silence, causing her heart to plummet into her stomach.
"What was that?" Bruce's voice sharpened with alertness, his instinctive concern prompting him to move toward the source of the sound.
Y/n's anxiety reached it’s limits until, unexpectedly, a voice came from her bedroom. "Y/n? Who's at the door?" It was unmistakably Scarecrow, yet his voice was stripped of its usual menacing distortion, sounding disarmingly normal.
Panic painted Y/n's face with a stark shade of horror, a silent scream at the realization of her rapidly unraveling situation. However, Bruce's reaction took a turn Y/n hadn't anticipated. His expression, initially furrowed with concern, smoothly transitioned into an amused smirk.
"I didn't realize you had company. I'll leave you to your...guest," he said, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic lightness.
In that moment, Y/n's dread shifted to a baffling sense of relief to mild embarrassment. The flush of embarrassment that crept up Y/n's cheeks. The implication in Bruce's assumption that her "guest" was there for reasons more intimate was mortifying, yet it was a far more palatable scenario than him suspecting the presence of a notorious criminal in her bedroom.
"U-uh, yeah, sorry," she managed, her voice a mix of awkwardness and gratitude as she escorted Bruce to the door.
Pausing at the threshold, Bruce turned back to her, his expression lightly amused. "Have a good night," he said, his voice carrying a hint of jest before he delivered a playful wink and departed.
As Y/n closed the door behind him, a wave of relief washed over her, tinged with a lingering embarrassment. As Y/n reentered her bedroom, her gaze fell upon Craw, who had perched on the shelf by her door.
"Are you still hiding under my bed?" she asked, her knees pressing against the cool floor as she peered under the bed.
There he was, Scarecrow, his frame stretched out beneath her bed, an unexpected sight that was oddly endearing. "Yeah," came his muffled reply.
"It's safe to come out now," she assured him, her voice lifting with a mix of relief and warmth.
As Scarecrow emerged, his presence seemed to fill the room. "What was that thumping sound?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.
"Craw decided the door looked interesting," Scarecrow quipped, a hint of affection for the mischief-maker in his tone.
Y/n's eyes darted to Craw, her expression one of mock frustration. "You bloody bird!" she growled, though the crow seemed preoccupied with scratching his wing with his beak.
"And thank you, by the way. My heart nearly stopped when he headed towards my room," she admitted, her hands finding their way to her hips.
"Who was that, if I may ask?" Scarecrow's curiosity was evident, his head tilted.
"A friend," she answered simply.
"Just a friend?" he probed further, an edge of something playful in his voice.
"Jealous?" Y/n teased, a light chuckle escaping her.
"Should I be?" he parried, his voice laced with amusement.
Y/n's laughter filled the room, a sound of genuine amusement. "Bruce is just a friend. Though now he probably thinks I've got a secret lover stashed in here," she said, the humor in her situation not lost on her.
"Bruce? As in-" Scarecrow started, only for Y/n to jump in.
"Bruce Wayne? Yes," she confirmed, closing the loop on his thought.
"I would've expected the Batman, not Bruce Wayne," he mused, his voice carrying a note of mock disappointment.
"Batman wouldn’t bother with the front door, that’s for sure," Y/n laughed.
Y/n chuckled, her fingers idly tracing patterns on her bedspread. "So, did you... you know, take off the mask when you called out?" she asked.
Scarecrow's response was matter-of-fact. "Well, yeah. I don’t know if you can tell, but my voice isn’t naturally distorted," he pointed out.
Y/n's playful pout betrayed her teasing tone. "That's not fair! My room got to see your face before I did!" she exclaimed, feigning offense.
"Your room is quite the lucky spectator," he remarked, his tone filled with amusement.
"I bet you won’t show me cause you’re insecure," Y/n teased with a playful glint in her eye.
Scarecrow tilted his head. "Or perhaps I prefer the mystery. Keeps things interesting, doesn't it?" His voice was muffled slightly by the fabric covering his features.
Y/n laughed, shaking her head. "Interesting for you, maybe. I'm just sitting here guessing if you're secretly a model or if you've got a face only a mother could love."
"Guess you'll just have to keep wondering," he replied.
The room fell into a comfortable silence, filled only by the soft rustling of Craw shifting on his perch. Y/n found herself studying Scarecrow, trying to glean any hint of the man behind the mask from his posture, his movements, even the way he spoke. There was an undeniable curiosity bubbling within her, a desire to know more about the mysterious figure who'd become an unexpected constant in her life.
As the night wore on, their conversation flowed, ranging from trivial banter to more serious discussions about their contrasting views of the city they both operated in. Despite their differences, Y/n felt a strange sense of kinship with Scarecrow, a connection forged in the unlikeliest of circumstances.
Eventually, Y/n yawned, the lateness of the hour catching up to her. Scarecrow noticed, standing up from where he had been sitting. "I should go," he said, his voice carrying a note of reluctance.
Y/n nodded, feeling an unexpected twinge of disappointment at the thought of him leaving. "Yeah, I guess it's getting late."
As Scarecrow moved toward the window, Y/n called out, "Will I see you again?"
He paused at the window, turning slightly to look at her. "I'm sure you will," he said, a hint of a smile in his voice.
And with that, he slipped out into the night with Craw flying after him, leaving Y/n with a mix of emotions and the lingering thrill of their conversation.
-
After two calm weeks, Bruce finally agreed to Y/n resuming her nightly endeavors alongside him. Although he harbored lingering doubts about Scarecrow, Y/n managed to clam his concerns, assuring him that Scarecrow would not pose a threat.
As Y/n and Batman moved stealthily through the Narrows, the dense fog seemed to cloak their presence further, blending them into the night. This part of Gotham, with its tight alleys and towering buildings, felt like a world entirely its own.
"Keep your guard up," Batman whispered, his voice barely carrying over the mist. "The Narrows are unpredictable."
Y/n nodded, her senses on high alert. The Narrows always had a way of keeping you on your toes, its residents too used to the shadows. But tonight, there was an odd stillness, as if the very air was holding its breath.
Suddenly, Batman stiffened, his head tilting slightly, the universal sign that he was receiving a communication through the cowl's integrated comms. Y/n watched him, waiting for instructions, knowing that whatever had just come through could very well dictate their next move.
After a moment, Batman turned to her, the glow from the city behind him casting a shadow over his face. "Riddler's causing trouble downtown. I need to go now."
"I'll stay here. Keep an eye on things," she offered, already mentally preparing to handle the Narrows alone.
Batman nodded, a silent message of trust and confidence in her abilities. "Be careful," he said before grappling away, disappearing into the night sky.
Alone now, Y/n felt the weight of the silence around her. The Narrows, with its whispering shadows and secrets, suddenly seemed even more foreboding. She took a deep breath, centering herself. This was her domain too, her responsibility.
"Thought he’d never leave," came a voice below her, drawing her attention downward.
As Y/n leaned over the edge of the rooftop. To her surprise, Scarecrow stood on the balcony below, his figure illuminated by the faint glow of the city lights.
"You've been here the whole time?" Y/n exclaimed, taken aback by his sudden appearance.
"I've been waiting inside. The place was abandoned," Scarecrow replied calmly, gesturing towards the building behind him.
Y/n hopped down from the rooftop, landing gracefully on the balcony beside him.
"Wow, Batman and I need to step up our game," she remarked, impressed by Scarecrow's stealth.
"Haven’t seen you as Batgirl in a while," Scarecrow noted, his gaze lingering on her.
"Yeah, thanks to you. I was sidelined. Batman thought you were gonna go after me," Y/n explained, a hint of frustration in her voice.
"Keeping you safe. Wise man," Scarecrow replied cryptically, a faint smirk playing on his lips.
Y/n chuckled, shaking her head. "More like overprotective," she whined.
Y/n could hear Scarecrow smirk behind the mask. "He has reason to be. You're not exactly easy to replace."
Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. "Flattery will get you nowhere," she teased.
"Where's Craw?" Y/n asked, looking around.
"Is my presence not enough for you?" Scarecrow teased.
Y/n side-eyed him, and Scarecrow chuckled. "He's back at my lab."
Scarecrow leaned against the balcony railing, his gaze scanning the darkened streets below. "So, what's the plan now? Are you patrolling solo?"
Y/n nodded. "Looks like it. Batman got called away to deal with Riddler downtown."
Scarecrow hummed in response. "Well then, I guess it's just you and me tonight."
Y/n raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in her expression. "You planning on causing any trouble?"
Scarecrow chuckled, shaking his head. "Not tonight."
They fell into an easy silence, the sounds of the city filling the air around them. Despite the darkness that surrounded them, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with Scarecrow, an unexpected ally in the night.
Y/n cast a sidelong glance at Scarecrow, noting the unusual cleanliness of his attire. "Not the usual tattered suit?" she pointed out.
Scarecrow glanced down at his suit. "Well, one has to look clean to impress," he replied, glazing at her.
"I'm sure Batman doesn't mind how you look," Y/n quipped, a playful glint in her eye.
Y/n leaned her back against the balcony railing, her gaze meeting Scarecrow's with a hint of mischief.
"Although, I must admit, the rugged look suits you," she teased, a sly smile playing on her lips.
Scarecrow chuckled softly, his gaze meeting hers with a spark of amusement. "Is that so? Perhaps I should stick to the tattered aesthetic then," he countered, his tone laced with flirtatiousness.
Y/n's laughter rang out across the night sky, the sound mixing with the distant hum of the city below. "You do you, Scarecrow. Just don't expect me to swoon over every torn thread," she replied, a playful glimmer dancing in her eyes.
Scarecrow leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a whisper. "Ah, but what if I told you I have a whole wardrobe of tattered suits just waiting to impress you?"
Y/n chuckled, her heart fluttering at the playful tone in Scarecrow's voice. "Just for me? Scandalous.”
"Well, if torn threads won't do the trick, I'll have to find another way to catch your eye." Scarecrow added.
Y/n raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. "Oh? And what approach are you planning to take?"
He leaned in even closer, his gaze locking with hers. "I suppose I'll have to rely on my charming wit and irresistible charm," he replied, his tone filled with playful confidence.
Y/n chuckled, the sound light and melodious in the night air. "Smooth talker, are we?" she teased, her own playful demeanor matching his.
Scarecrow's grin widened, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Only when I'm in good company," he admitted, his voice softening slightly as he held her gaze.
Y/n's cheeks flushed at his words, her gaze lingering on his captivating eyes. "You certainly know how to flatter a girl," she teased, unable to suppress the flutter of excitement building within her.
Scarecrow chuckled softly, the sound sending a thrill through Y/n. "Only because you make it so easy," he murmured, his gaze holding hers with an intensity that left her breathless.
"If I weren't on duty, I might have been tempted to steal a kiss from you right here," she teased, her fingers playfully tugging at his noose.
With a wink, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the abandoned apartment, leaving Scarecrow to ponder her words.
"You never know, the night is young," he remarked, his voice laced with playful innuendo.
"Oh, but I could never kiss a man whose face I've never seen," Y/n remarked.
"Oh, but the mystery adds to the allure, don't you think?" Scarecrow countered.
Scarecrow chuckled, the sound echoing in the dimly lit room. "Who says you haven't seen it before?"
Y/n halted in her tracks, her eyes widening in surprise as she turned back to face him.
"So, I have actually seen you before?" she asked eagerly.
Scarecrow nodded, a hint of amusement in his demeanor. "Yes, indeed," he confirmed.
Her excitement grew, and she leaned in closer. "Did we talk?" she pressed.
"We did," he replied, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his lips.
Her disbelief turned into sheer astonishment. "Oh my god! Seriously? Can you tell me more?" she exclaimed.
"We had quite a conversation, and we crossed paths a few times afterward," Scarecrow disclosed.
Y/n racked her brain, trying to recall any details, but she was drawing a blank. Feeling frustrated and a little foolish for not making the connection, she sighed. Despite now knowing what he sounded like without the mask, she still couldn't piece it together.
"Holy fuck! That's incredible!" Y/n exclaimed, laughter bubbling up from within her. "Can you give me just a tiny hint about what you look like?" Y/n pleaded.
"Sorry, but that would spoil the fun," Scarecrow replied.
Y/n persisted, "Well, do you at least know if I find you attractive?"
"Why do you want to know that?" Scarecrow questioned.
"Because it might have to kiss you after all," Y/n teased.
Scarecrow considered her words before responding, "...I don’t know. You didn't seem particularly impressed when you saw me, you were just a bit awkward at first. But to be fair, so was I."
There was a hint of vulnerability in his tone, though Y/n couldn't be sure. "Perhaps my awkwardness was due to the fact I was starstruck?" she offered playfully.
Scarecrow sounded unconvinced. "Unlikely," he countered gently.
"Or… could it be because my attention was already captivated by someone else? Maybe a certain Scarecrow?" Y/n teased, aiming to lighten his spirits.
Scarecrow's demeanor shifted, his voice tinged with defensiveness. "Why the sudden interest, Batgirl? You've never shown any feelings towards me before. What's changed?" he asked.
Y/n found herself confused by the unfolding situation. When had she begun to flirt with Scarecrow, and why was she so invested in making him believe she was romantically interested? Whenever this change occurred, she didn’t mind it.
"Woah. You started this, and don't act as if you weren't flirting with me too," Y/n retorted.
Scarecrow's tone never softened, his eyes narrowing as he studied Y/n's face. "And if I was? What are your intentions, Y/n?" he asked.
"I don’t know! I was just bantering, playing along… what were your intentions then? How do I know you're not just leading me on so you can gas me again?" Y/n retorted, turning the tables on him.
This clearly offended Scarecrow. "You know it was an accident."
"Do I?" Y/n challenged.
Scarecrow's expression softened, a hint of regret in his eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said quietly.
Y/n felt a pang of sympathy. "I know," she replied softly.
They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air. Eventually, Y/n spoke up again. "Look, I didn't mean to upset you."
"Look, I didn't mean to upset you," Y/n said, her tone sincere.
Scarecrow took a deep breath, visible even through his attire. "And I apologize if I seemed defensive. It wasn't my intention."
Their eyes met, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Both were treading uncharted waters, neither sure of where the current would take them but willing to navigate it together.
"So, I've been meaning to ask," Y/n began, again with the playfulness in her voice, "do you wear contacts?"
Scarecrow tilted his head slightly, "Prescription ones, yes."
"But not colored?" she probed further.
"No, why do you ask?" Scarecrow's response carried a mix of curiosity and amusement.
Y/n's tone softened, warmth seeping into her words, "It's just that... you have really pretty eyes."
"Again with the flattery?" Scarecrow teased.
"It's just the truth," Y/n replied with a grin.
"And here I was thinking I might get a kiss," Scarecrow joked.
Y/n chuckled, shaking her head, "I told you, I’m not going to kiss a man I don’t know."
Scarecrow shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes, "That’s a shame."
The distant wail of sirens interrupted their banter.
"I should probably leave now," Scarecrow remarked.
"Yeah… see you later?" Y/n said, a hopeful note in her voice.
"Count on it. Until then... See you at Arkham," Scarecrow said, disappearing into the night.
Y/n's mind raced to piece together the puzzle he had inadvertently presented her. It took a moment for the realization to sink in, but when it did, her heart skipped a beat.
"Wait a minute!" she called out, but it was futile, Scarecrow was already gone.
Her mind buzzed with newfound clarity. Tall, lanky, formal speech, glasses, and now, a connection to Arkham. It all clicked into place with a sudden jolt of realization. How had she not seen it before?
"Holy fuck," Y/n breathed, her pulse quickening.
The pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place, revealing a truth she couldn't ignore. Scarecrow... was someone from Arkham. And in that moment, a single name echoed in her mind with chilling clarity.
The conversations they'd shared, the topics they'd discussed, all pointed to one undeniable truth. His fascination with fear, his strange approach to their encounters, it was all too familiar now.
The memory of their first meeting flooded back, and suddenly, it made perfect sense. The shock on his face, the careful choice of words. It was Dr. Crane, right before her eyes.
Y/n couldn't believe she hadn't seen it sooner. How had she missed the signs? How had she not recognized the man behind the mask all along?
Now faced with this newfound knowledge, Y/n was at a crossroads. Should she maintain the facade of ignorance, carrying on as if nothing had changed? Or should she confront Dr. Crane, acknowledging the truth that lay between them? And what about the promise she'd made, the playful banter about kissing him. Was it all just a game, or did it hold deeper significance now?
One thing was certain, she couldn't risk revealing her discovery to Bruce. As she grappled with these thoughts, Y/n resolved to tread carefully, to navigate this delicate situation with caution. The truth had been revealed, but its aftermath remained to be seen.
-
Throughout the morning, Y/n felt restless as she awaited her encounter with Dr. Crane. Stuck in Dr. Young's office sorting files, she impatiently waited for the opportunity to find him.
As soon as she finished with the files, Y/n swiftly stored them away and left the office, determined to seek out Dr. Crane in the secure section of Arkham.
As Y/n made her way through the corridors of Arkham, her mind raced with anticipation. She had been waiting for this moment, hoping to confront Dr. Crane. Suddenly, she spotted him in the distance, his figure unmistakable amidst the gloom. Their eyes locked, and she saw a hint of amusement in his expression, as if he knew she was coming.
Her heart skipped a beat. Feeling a surge of determination, Y/n hastened her steps, closing the gap between them with purpose. As she reached Dr. Crane, she grabbed his arm firmly, surprising him with her sudden boldness. His smirk widened slightly, betraying a mixture of surprise and curiosity at her actions.
Without uttering a word, Y/n tugged him along, leading him towards his office. Dr. Crane offered little resistance, seemingly taken aback by Y/n's assertiveness. As they entered the office, Y/n swiftly closed the door behind them and turned the key in the lock, sealing them inside.
"You sly motherfucker," Y/n breathed out.
Entwining her fingers in his hair, she drew him closer, her lips crashing against his in a fiery embrace. The kiss ignited a whirlwind of emotions, fueled by pent-up desire and the thrill of discovery.
Caught off guard by Y/n's sudden boldness, Dr. Crane hesitated for a moment before surrendering to the intoxicating allure of her kiss. His hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer as the intensity of the moment enveloped them both.
For a fleeting moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their own private universe of passion and longing. But as the kiss deepened, an obnoxious buzz interrupted the moment, reminding them of their surroundings.
Reluctantly breaking the kiss, Y/n and Dr. Crane gazed into each other's eyes, a mixture of surprise and desire reflected in their expressions.
"I... I didn't expect..." Dr. Crane began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.
Y/n's heart raced as she searched his eyes for any sign of regret or hesitation. But instead, she found a spark of something else, a glimmer of longing and vulnerability that mirrored her own.
"I'm sorry," Y/n whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "I just couldn't resist."
She noticed a blush creeping up Dr. Crane’s cheeks as he adjusted his glasses.
"Am I fogging up your glasses?" Y/n teased.
Dr. Crane chuckled nervously. "Not disappointed, I see," he replied, his tone unable to hide his embarrassment.
Y/n smiled, her eyes twinkling with affection. "Now, I could never be disappointed in my Scarecrow," she said, her words filled with warmth.
Dr. Crane's blush deepened at the endearing nickname, but he tried to maintain his composure. "I hope you don't go around kissing all your superiors," he joked, attempting to deflect the attention.
Y/n grinned mischievously. "Just you, Dr. Crane," she said, her tone teasing yet sincere.
Dr. Crane's lips curled into a soft smile at her response. "Seeing as circumstances change, you can call me Jonathan," he offered, his voice tinged with newfound intimacy.
"Well, Jonathan… I'm glad to finally know the man behind the mask," Y/n said with a smile.
"You better not go off telling your bat friend about this," Jonathan warned playfully.
"And lose my nighttime companion? No way," Y/n retorted, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Jonathan chuckled at her response. Y/n’s eyes drifted to the closed office door.
“We should probably be getting back to work now," Y/n said, a hint of reluctance in her voice.
"We should, yes..." Jonathan began, his gaze lingering on her. "But I've never been one to follow the rules too closely," he added, drawing her closer into his embrace.
Y/n chuckled softly, realizing she wouldn't be leaving the office anytime soon. With a smile on her lips and a newfound connection in her heart, Y/n embraced the unpredictable journey ahead, knowing that whatever was between them was going to be complicated. But as Jonathan's lips met hers once more, Y/n felt a rush of exhilaration, realizing that wouldn’t want it any other way.
-
A/N: Thank you so much for the request 💚
I really did enjoy writing this fic, enemies hit differently when it's in superhero fics and I love it.
Even with the fic being 15k long, I wasn't sure how to make them 'lovers', so I ended up just making them playfully flirt and just turn it into real attraction cause...slay. So yeah, it's a bit fast paced but I am still happy with what I've written and I hope yous are too :)
It took me quite a while to write as I've just been so busy with Uni and work lately, finding time between has been difficult.
Thank you again and I hope you enjoyed 💚
#fanfic#jonathan crane#jonathan crane fanfic#jonathan crane x reader#dc scarecrow#cillian murphy scarecrow#batman scarecrow#the scarecrow#scarecrow#scarecrow x batgirl#batgirl#reader is batgirl#scarecrow x reader
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i know our mornings (were as good as it ever could be)
synopsis: eddie thinks he's doing a pretty good job at hiding his relationship with the youngest dunne sister. until he isn't.
warnings: smut, dirty talk, usage of alcohol & drugs, billy dunne
a/n: thank you so much for the love on the previous eddie post! this is shit but it's eddie smut and that's all that matters
♡
It all happens so fast you think you’ve imagined it - one minute you’re snorting your (fourth, maybe fifth) line of coke and reaching for another glass of beer, and the next you’re being pulled by your belt loops until you can breathe in the fresh evening air through your slightly powdery nostrils. You’re still looking down at your feet, hands outstretched and trying to regain your balance, which is a surprisingly hard thing to do using a coked-up brain, when the mystery assailant, probably Billy, starts speaking. You sigh and brace yourself for yet another lecture.
“The fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Welp, that’s definitely not Billy. You don’t know if you should be happy about it or not.
You look up and meet Eddie’s eyes, his eyebrows so furrowed that the annoyed wrinkle between them is especially pronounced - you want to reach out and smooth it out with your fingers, you want to tell him that as hot as he looks when he’s pissed off, he shouldn’t be getting wrinkles this early on. You don’t do any of that.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” You respond instead, putting a hand on your hip with such force that you make yourself stumble a little bit. In the blink of an eye, Eddie is holding you by the waist, concerned, and you pray to every single entity out there to just make the goddamn sequin dress separating your bodies disappear into thin air, simply to feel his large hands against your skin. “I’m having fun.”
Eddie lets out an exasperated sigh and tilts your head upward, cleaning up the cocaine residue around your nose. A part of you finds it weirdly cute.
“Too much fun.” He tells you and you shake your head.
“I’ve seen you do, like, six lines one after another. You can’t just lecture me when you do the exact same thi-”
“That’s because I’m used to it, I can handle it.” Eddie interrupts, grabbing you by the chin gently. He’s looking at you right in the eyes, wanting to drive his point home, but all you can focus on is his lips. “You could barely handle a shot of whiskey before and now you’re drinking and doing lines like you’ve done it all your life.”
You roll your eyes, although you understand what he’s trying to say.
“Eds, just leave me alone. I’m not going to die or somethin’. I’m just having fun.” You defend yourself, but the hiccups in-between your words do absolutely nothing to convince the man in front of you.
In fact, something flashes in his eyes. It’s a look you see rarely, but one you recognize as the look he gets when he sets his mind to something. You don’t get to dwell too much on it, because he’s crouching and picking you up, and before you know it, you’re thrown over his shoulder with such ease it makes something at the bottom of your stomach flutter.
“Eddie, put me down, now! What are you doing!?” You protest and hit his back with your fists as hard as you can, waving your legs in the air. He doesn’t even flinch and instead places a hand on your calf and squeezes, a gesture you can only interpret as “calm the fuck down” - and something in you listens, despite the drugs and liquors in your system screaming at you to keep acting bratty.
You vaguely recognize Warren’s wolf-whistling at the pair of you, but you don’t pay him any attention - by the time he’s asked for your room key at the reception desk in that deep voice that drives you crazy and you’re in the luxurious elevator, you’re already half-asleep but still have enough leftover energy to complain.
"Can you put me down now? You’ve proved your point.”
In response, Eddie’s hand moves higher up your leg, slipping underneath your dress. You can feel yourself blushing as he starts drawing circles on your inner thigh.
“Hm, I really don’t think I have, sweetheart.” He tells you and you want to strangle him for knowing exactly what buttons to push to make you speechless.
The rest of the elevator ride is spent in torturous silence, as he absentmindedly drags his fingers across your skin and you stubbornly hold in your whimpers and gasps, because you’d rather die on the spot than have him know how sensitive his touch makes you.
Only he can make me feel like this, you think to yourself in a striking moment of clarity.
After what feels like an eternity, you finally arrive at your floor. Eddie confidently walks towards your room and opens it - as soon as the door closes, he strides over to the bed and gently drops you onto it. You’re looking at the ceiling, thinking about nothing and everything at the same time, as he removes your heels. When he stands up and kisses your forehead, ready to leave so you could get some sleep, you grab him by the collar.
Sleep is the last thing on your mind right now.
You kiss him hard, and he responds immediately - you feel his heart thumping when your chests press against each other, and you’re pretty sure he can feel yours too. He moans into your mouth when you tug on his hair and you feel like you’re on the brink of getting what you want - except, he pulls away from you. You look at him, confused, and when you reach out to try and bring his face towards you, he grabs your wrists in one hand.
“You’re drunk, sweetheart. We can’t.” He explains and you want to cry. Why did he have to be so thoughtful?
“But I want you.” You try and he just smiles at you, wide and toothy, as he stands up. You catch his hand. “Can you…can you at least sleep next to me? We don’t have to do anything, I just..."
He turns to look at you and you see surprise painted across his features. You open your mouth to take it back, tell him you don’t know what you’re talking about, play it off as the drugs talking, but he’s already dropping his jacket on the ground and getting into bed with you before you get the chance to say anything.
He opens his arms, inviting you to come closer and you gladly take the invitation.
"You're cold." You tell him when you lay your head on his chest and feel him wrapping his arms around you. He smells like cigarettes and citrus. It’s your favorite smell in the world.
“You’re hot.” He responds, grinning as he kisses the top of your head, and you giggle.
It’s the last thing you remember before you fall asleep.
—
You wake up horny. Not unusual by any means, considering you fell asleep horny and next to Eddie. Still, you know you can't ignore it for long.
As your eyes adjust to the sunlight pouring in through the windows, you feel Eddie, still asleep, wrapping a long arm around your waist and pulling you towards his chest. His gentle hums do nothing except fuel the growing need in you to have him. You decide to do just that.
Careful not to wake him, you slowly move down his body and when you reach the part you're craving the most, you greedily undo his belt like you're opening a Christmas present. You pull his jeans and boxers down at the same time, impatient, and immediately get to work.
You run your tongue from the tip to the base, savoring the shiver you receive in response. You do that a couple of times but as soon as you take him in your mouth, Eddie gasps and you know you've woken him up, because you feel a hand in your hair.
"Shit, baby, good mornin' to you too." He laughs and the rasp in his voice makes you throb.
You take him in deeper, tracing the vein in his shaft with your tongue and Eddie practically howls. Biting his lip, he buries his other hand in your hair too as the sounds of your gagging and his moaning overlap.
"I love this fucking mouth on my cock." He breathes out. "God, I can't get enough of you. Come 'ere."
You shake your head as you press open-mouthed kisses down the shaft.
"No, I want you to cum in my mouth." You declare stubbornly and he swears out loud at your words.
"I'll cum in that pretty little mouth as much as you want me to, but I need to be inside of you right now, baby, please." He almost begs and you look at him beneath your eyelashes.
He's panting heavily, his bottom lip slightly bloody because he bit it too hard, brown eyes glazed over and hair splayed out on the pillow beneath his head like a halo. He looks like a mess and it's the prettiest thing you've ever seen.
Well, how can you say no to that?
You crawl towards him and he grabs the dress you've slept in from yesterday and pushes it up your body, hastily trying to remove it. You help him and soon, the dress is a mere clothing item on the floor. Left in only your underwear, he licks his lips as his eyes look you over. If it was anyone else, you would have felt like a piece of meat being ogled at, but his look only turns you on even more.
You tug on his shirt, wanting it off, and he complies immediately.
As you climb into his lap and undo your bra, Eddie watches, mesmerized, when you start grinding on his cock like a woman starved, your tits bouncing along with every movement. In an attempt to tease him, you reach out to play with your nipples, but he smacks your hands away, shoves his face in your chest and starts worshiping your tits with such vigor you think you can cum from this alone.
"Eddie! Oh!" You mewl and he groans in response, tugging your underwear down your thighs. He rubs a finger against your folds and your head gently knocks against his when his finger glides right inside of you.
"So fuckin' warm and tight and all for me. Only for me." Eddie whispers, kissing your neck. You nod, burying your fingers in his tangled hair.
"Only for you. Always for you." You whisper in his ear and he exhales sharply, relieved, like he's being told something he never once thought would be true.
You don't even notice when one finger has become two, and two has become three in your haze of pleasure until Eddie pushes you down onto the bed, looking at you like you've hung the moon and stars. You smile at him and pull his face down to kiss him, and you can feel him chuckling against your lips. Wrapping your legs around his waist, you melt in his embrace. In response, Eddie grabs your hips, something you've noticed he really likes doing, and carefully enters you. You open your mouth in a silent scream, and he groans loudly, squeezing you so hard you're sure he'll give you yet another pair of bruises. You don't mind though, not at all.
"You okay, sweetheart?"
"Very much am, Roundtree."
---
"What did you just say?"
Warren laughs nervously, scratching the back of his neck.
"Look man, I don't fuckin' know, all I'm saying is that I saw them leaving together."
It's quiet in the breakfast hall as Billy ponders on what to do.
"I get that she's our little sister, but she's grown up now. Even if she is, y'know, sleeping with him, why should that matter? I mean, it's Eddie, do you really think he'd do anything to hurt her?" Graham argues, gesturing with the utensils in his hands as he speaks.
Daisy and Karen nod in agreement.
"He's got a point, you know. I really don't think it's that big of a deal. They've got the hots for each other for a while now, too, it's only natural." Karen adds and Billy's mouth turns into a tight line as he death glares the uneaten toast on his plate.
"Good morning everyone!" Eddie greets his band members when you and him enter, suspiciously cheerful. Billy's glare only becomes more hateful.
"Morning." He greets with gritted teeth, carefully observing the way Eddie gallantly pulls out your chair first, before sitting on his own. Everyone else around him also seems to notice, if Daisy and Karen's quiet giggles and Warren and Graham clearing their throats were any indication.
"Aren't you going to get breakfast?" Graham questions and you smile innocently back at him.
"Nope, I've already eaten." You respond and Eddie adds a "I'm very full, actually."
Awkward silence descends on the table for a moment before Roy arrives as well.
"Hey, Roundtree." He starts, an accusatory finger pointed at the bassist's neck. "What kind of vampire were you fooling around with? Jesus Christ, son, look at the size of that thing."
A beat passes as Graham chokes on his water.
"Roundtree, you fucking son of a bitch, I'll kill you."
---
BILLY DUNNE: The prick was fucking my sister behind my back. Of course I decked him.
KAREN SIRKO: And people call women the emotional ones.
WARREN ROJAS: Dude, I thought I was hallucinating, for real.
DAISY JONES: So overdramatic.
GRAHAM DUNNE: [sighs]
EDDIE ROUNDTREE: Worth it. [smiles]
#daisy jones & the six#daisy jones and the six#eddie roundtree x reader#eddie roundtree#eddie roundtree smut#eddie loving#billy dunne#graham dunne#warren rojas#karen sirko#daisy jones#djats fic#djats
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hello aly! 🤎 i saw that you were receiving requests and it's okay if i ask for something about hotch? 🥺 perhaps him falling in love with jack's art teacher, i'm in the mood for something really fluffy because i need comfort haha take care pretty soul!
this is such a sweet ask. and yes that's more than okay, you never have to ask xx it's kind of short, i hope it's still okay, i focused mainly on their first meeting, but i am open to writing more works for this universe.
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"Good morning, bud!" you don't have to fake excitement or enthusiasm as Jack Hotchner bounds into your classroom. You crouch, kneeling so that you're face to face with him, as he practically glows. His smile is so bright you fear you may have to squint as he's quick to jump into your arms, chubby little hands looping around your neck. You tried your best to make every single student that walked through your door feel welcome, but they all weren’t as agreeable as Jack Hotchner was.
The hug is comforting, sweet, and it reminds you why you got up every morning to work for less than you were worth. The joy you instilled in your kids made everything worthwhile. Jack pulls back after a moment, exclaiming that you were squeezing too tight. It makes you chuckle slightly as you brush a bit of stray lint off his shoulders. “Sorry, kiddo! You’re just too stinking cute.” You hum, and you enjoy this part of the job. You adored all of your students.
Hellos at the beginning of the day, and goodbyes as they poured out into the hallways to head to their next class. Specials at your school, which consisted of Art, Music, and Gym, happened on rotation. You had Jack’s class first period, four times out the week. His entire class though, had been angels. Through the year you'd only had about two incidents, and both included students fighting over who's turn it was on paint day. You finally let Jack go with one more squeeze.
He giggles, which is a tell that your hugs weren't all that bad. You're a bit startled when an unfamiliar man steps through the door behind him. He's wearing a collared button up, with jeans, and a matching belt. "Um, excuse me, Sir." you hold a hand up, quickly moving to usher Jack, and the other entering students away from the door. "You can't come in here." you affirm, and you look around to see if there was anything in your direct vicinity that could be used to attack.
You settle on a foam brush, clutching it by it's bristles, as you hold it out towards the man. "Stay back, or I'll-" you look down at the paint brush, and then back at the mystery assailant. "I'll use this, and you won't like it." you assert, and your students are giggling, seemingly amused by the situation. You don't see the humour in it. You'd met every single parent and guardian of your students, and this man had never been there. Which made him a flight risk, a danger.
"I think you've got the wrong idea." the man speaks, and his voice stands out. It's very stern, but not hostile. He has a commanding presence, and he seems to appraise you diligently. You take a look at your hand-print dress, and suddenly feel very childish. You loved your job, mostly because you could dress without much judgement. It wasn't like the kids were going to tell you that you looked childish.
"You can never be too careful." you retort sharply, and you readjust your grip on your paint brush. You hoped you looked a bit intimidating, but you wouldn't count on it. "And I don't see a visitor's badge." you add a second after. "Jack, come this way." you prompt, and he seems to stall. He looks from you to the man and back again. He was conflicted, for starters he had his father, his hero standing on one side. And you, his favorite teacher of all time on the other.
"Bye-bye, Daddy." and his choice is made, the small child waving his hand boldly before he's rushing off to his desk, and you're stuck. Aaron, is surprised. Eyes trailing after his son with that feeling every parent has when they realize their child is growing up. It forces a puff of air to escape him, as his eyes quickly flit back to you. His eyebrows raise, dark eyes swimming as realization sets in. Usually Jack was dropped off by his Aunt Jessica Brooks, she was a lovely lady.
She'd mentioned Jack's parental situation. How his mother had passed a few years back, and how his father had a demanding job. You'd given up on ever laying eyes on the man. "You're Mr..." you trail off as your voice cracks obnoxiously. "You're Jack's dad?" you ask, and he lets out a quiet laugh, one that's more a nose exhale than anything else. It's a fitting sort of laugh, you hardly expected the man to be the type to guffaw or even chuckle in an ugly sort of way.
"Not that you can tell by the way he took off." he retorts, and there's still an amusement that rests in his tone. "Aaron," he finally introduces. "Hotchner." he finishes, hand shooting out. It must have been habitual. You didn't know much about the FBI, but you did know that they were sticklers, stone serious. You'd done a project on greatest heroes, and Jack had managed a piece that consisted of a JJ, Prentiss, Garcia, Morgan, Rossi, and Reid. They'd been paired up with a piece that was solely his dad, his superhero. His favorite.
"I'm Jack's teacher." you introduce, as if that didn't go without saying. You reach forward with your free hand, allowing his palm to press against yours. His shake is firm, but you're surprised at how nice his hands feel. There's this spark, a feeling of lightning zigzagging from him to you, and it makes you leap back, paint brush clattering to the ground. The class seems to get lost in the mishap, watching with bated breath for what would possibly come next.
Aaron doesn't bat an eye as he bends down, crouching to pluck the brush up from the ground. He looks bemused, standing back to his full height as he holds your weapon of choice out towards you. "You should be more careful. It's a pretty dangerous weapon in the right hands." and he's making a joke. You find yourself gobsmacked, it was too much for him to be charismatic, and attractive. No, he had to pick one or the other. Still, you grab the brush, despite your fear of sparking again.
"You just got lucky you were vetted by the right kid." you offer your own sort of joke, and his smile makes you proud on the inside.
"I'm sorry for the late appearance." he changes the subject, but it doesn't feel forced or charged. "I meant to get here sooner so that I could lay eyes on Jack's favorite teacher..." you feel proud at the compliment. "You're all he talks about when his day is done." he adds, and you're turning to look at Jack. The kids were separated at their tables, multicolored smocks already on their bodies. They were more than ready for the day. "But as I'm sure you're aware, my job can sometimes keep that from happening." he says and you nod.
"Jess did mention you had a hectic schedule with your job, I understand." your hand waves tiredly, brushing off his apologies. You didn't need them, not when it was so clear that Jack adored his father. And it was more than clear that Jack was Aaron's world. "I'm just glad you finally got here." and you try not to sound as breathless as you feel. "It's important for teachers and parents to be on the same page." you prompt, and Aaron's head nods. You don't know if he really believes you or if it's all politics in a way.
"I couldn't have said it better myself." and he looks so sincere. He's staring at your face intently, and you feel self conscious, blinking too much to be normal. "You've got a little..." and he's motioning towards you. Mortification is the only thing you feel as you run through your morning routine. You'd scrubbed your tongue and teeth thrice before leaving the house. You'd cleaned out any evidence of sleep from your eyes, so what exactly could be out of order.
You swipe frantically at your face and nose, hoping it wasn't something that would make you look like a dunce or a fool in front of Aaron. He chuckles a bit as he extends a hand. "Uh, may I?" he asks, and you're nodding before you should be. It's almost instantaneous the way he's cupping your chin, tilting you head, and dragging his thumb over your cheek. He removes his hand a second later, you could almost pretend it didn't happen. That is, until he's swiping paint on his jeans. Damn, you were such an idiot.
You'd been prepping paint stations for your lesson on symbolism. You must have forgotten to clean up your face before the first bell rang signaling the day's beginning. "That's so embarrassing." you exclaim, and another student is entering the classroom, quickly hugging your side, as you offer an awkward wave to another parent. You squeeze the girl a bit, before she's bounding off to her seat.
"You know, I think it builds character." Aaron promises, and you snort. "Besides, it was kinda intimidating." he's lying, and you know it. He's trying to make you feel less shameful about it. "Anyone looking to mess with your class is in for it." and you're certain your face is visible exposing your humiliation, and subsequent embarrassment at the hands of one of your student's parent.
"Enough, enough." you plead, and here's where you get a full laugh. It's handsome just like everything else about him. "Your sarcasm's far from helpful." you huff, and you're dragging your hand over the same place he'd touched. It tingles as you drag your hands down, and you hope for your sanity Jess is back tomorrow. Garnering a foolish infatuation for your student was the last thing you wanted to happen.
"I'll do my best to keep that in mind for next time." he replies. The bell chirps overhead, a signal that class needed to begin. "Don't work too hard." he prompts, and your heart stutters in your chest. You feel like a fool, he was just being nice, a gentleman like his job required him to be.
"I'll try my best." you promise, and he smiles at you like he's pleased.
"I'll see you later, bud!" and he's addressing Jack, who ignores protocol. He bounds across the room to offer his dad a big hug, he squeezes him tight, Aaron hugging him back maybe tighter. It's sweet, but you feel like you're intruding.
"Say bye-bye to daddy, Miss L/N." Jack pleads, and you blink.
Bye daddy. And you scold your horrid mind. Jack's waiting expectantly, and it seems his father is as well.
"Goodbye, Mr. Hotchner." you huff out, and he's smirking.
"Goodbye, Miss L/N." he matches your exasperated tone. And then he's leaving, and you're heaving a sigh of relief. Jack's going back to his seat, face just as smug as it could be for someone his age. It takes you a second to float back to Earth, staring at the doorway like he'd come back, but he doesn't. You inhale sharply, good riddance. You shuffle slowly to the door, shutting it as you soon address your class.
"We're gonna talk about Symbolism today." you announce, and the kids who were far from listening finally take you in. "Does anyone want to take a guess as to what Symbolism is?" you question, and a flurry of hands shoot up in the air. There's one girl, little Mary, who looks like she's doing the pee pee dance as she tries to get you to choose her. So you do, "Go ahead and give it a shot, Mary."
"Miss L/N, are you gonna marry Jack's dad?"
Maybe today was the wrong day for paint and symbolism.
#aaron hotchner#criminal minds#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotchner smut#aaron hotchner imagine#ssa aaron hotchner#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch hotchner#aaron hotch fanfiction#hotchner imagine#hotch smut#hotch x reader#aaron hotch x you#hotch x y/n#hotch x you#hotch fluff#hotch imagine#aaron hotchenr fluff#aaron hotch fluff#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds fanfic#criminal minds fluff
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Request for Reader asking to wrestle ghost and then he does that one move he does when he goes under someone’s legs and flips them on their back
Please if you want to 🫶
| Takedown
Word Count - 1.5k
Summary - Y/N is regularly called upon by Ghost to help out as a fake assailant. Today's close combat lesson is on disarming and takedowns.
Tags/Warnings - Depictions of combat, slight sexual tension,
A/N - i think i know exactly what you're talking about! i believe it's a finisher from MW2019 called "Fangs Out".
I also found this TikTok by cctvsoap that shows the actual finisher.
Masterlist ❤︎ Tag List Form
There was truly nothing worse than when Ghost roped you into agreeing to be his pretend enemy when he did his hand-to-hand combat training with his troops. Ghost preferred to demonstrate his lethality on someone who was resilient enough to take the blows and was trained enough to know how to safely take them. Why you agreed to it every time was a mystery, because you would go home at the end of the day and count all your new bruises. Last time, it was seven.
At the very least you weren’t alone. Soap has also fallen prey to this scheme more than his fair share. You and Soap had created a “Victims of Ghost” Club. It mostly consisted of you two texting each other to run and hide when Ghost began his training doll recruitment.
You could hold your own in a fight. Even against Ghost himself. However, this situation was different. You would be subjected to taking all the hits and tackles he needed to do for demonstration.
Today he was going over disarming and disorienting. His forte. Which meant a lot of being thrown on the ground and having your ass handed to you.
Ghost was explaining the purpose and importance of close combat when he signalled for you to join him on the mat. You positioned yourself at the front of the mat, with a plastic gun in hand. Standing as if you were on a watch. Feet slightly apart and gun poised.
He always started off by letting you know what moves to expect from him so you could prepare for it. The best you could. Then he would do a full run-through of the move, followed by a slowed down set-by-step explanation.
He began the training session with simple disarms. His motions were snappy and well-practiced, the gun was knocked to the floor and a hand was pinned behind your back. He moved like it was second nature to him.
“Sorry,” he said lowly, dipping down to your ear. Your heart dropped down to pulse between your legs.
This was why you kept saying yes.
You nodded, rubbing at your wrist where he had grabbed it and offered him a thumbs up. He returned the nod, eyes watchful. Once he was satisfied that you were truly fine, he proceeded to the step-by-step. He was extremely gentle when he did this, his hands ghosting across your body. A complete paradox from just moments before. Like when his fingers linger a second too long sometimes. Or when his thumb drew little circles on the bare skin of your wrist when he pinned it behind you once more.
Near the end of the session, you felt like you were going to burst into flames. The man radiated heat like he was a furnace and his proximity throughout the last hour has been torturous. That and every time he whispered apologies to you, you felt yourself melt a little more.
Only to be brought back to the cold earth when he announced the next disarming tactic and takedown. You had yet to decide if you hated or loved this next one.
Ghost turned back to you, “I’ll be going between your legs. Try and break your fall this time, would you?” he teased you about the last he taught this one in class he had moved in on you so fast you hardly had time to catch your fall. Your face had made friends with the floor that day.
If the situation was different the words “I’ll be going between your legs,” would have made you weak in the knees.
You glared over at him, “Go easy on me,” you had to force yourself to relax your muscles. It would make the fall hurt a little less. Once again you positioned yourself at the front of the mat, allowing a little extra space in the front of you this time. Since you’d be falling forward. You made sure you bent your knees and your grip on the gun lose.
Ghost tapped your left leg as he passed you, letting you know which leg he’d be attacking. It helped with knowing which direction you’d need to twist towards when falling.
He didn’t give any cues when he moved in. Aside from the quiet swish of fabric, he was nearly silent.
A foreign leg hooked around the lower half of yours, and a well-placed hand pushing at your back forced you to lose balance and teeter forward. It was instinct to toss the gun and bring your hands up in front of you. You were still free-falling when a large hand wrapped around the ankle of your right leg, redirecting your momentum to the side so you landed on your shoulder. By the time you were on the ground, you were facing him with your back to the floor. You struggled to catch your breath for a moment. The force of the fall had stolen the air straight out of your lungs. Ghost was kneeling over you, a hand placed into your chest to keep you to the ground. There was no pressure to the contact thought.
He kept his attention on you until you gave a reassuring tap to the arm pinning you down. He remained as he was to allow you extra time to regain composure. His eyes flicked between the group of soldiers and you as he decoded his motions for them. There was no anxiety behind his eyes, just a hushed concern. He knew you weren’t injured, but the fall was never pleasant and he was well aware of that.
He helped you back to your feet, squeezing your shoulder lightly before walking everyone through the action. This time when he hooked his leg around you there was no push or pulling. You still followed through with how it would have gone if it were happening at full speed. When he brought your right leg across his body so you were lying facing him once again, his watchful eyes were on you. Before he had to drag them away from you.
He allowed for the remaining time for the troops to use as practice. You made your way to your water bottle, needing the ice cold water to chill the heat in your core. Ghost trailed after you as he watched the soldiers try out all the different moves and techniques he showed them today.
“You’re going to have to go track down Soap for the next class,” You were half kidding.
“If you stop giving him a head start every time I try, I just might do that,” he fixed you with a bored look.
Of course, he knew.
You faked a shocked expression, “My loyalties lay with McTavish.”
“Then I’ll see you on friday,” he stated. He could pull rank on you, but you knew if you said “no”, he wouldn’t. He very very rarely pulled rank on you.
Bonus of Ghost taking the legs off Soap
If there was one thing in this world that Simon had no issues throwing class and grace to the wind for, it was when someone challenged him. He also had no qualms about besting Soap in a fight. So when Soap told Ghost that he could take him down in a fight, Ghost rose to the occasion. A few members of the 141, including yourself, were in the training room when Soap contested that he could take on Ghost in a duel. To which he immediately denied the thesis. Much to no one’s surprise, Soap didn’t back down. Claiming that his agility was superior to Ghost’s resilience and power.
You and Gaz set up camp on the benches. Placing bets on how long Soap would last.
“No holding back on me,” Soap pointed a finger at the Brit before taking a ready position.
As soon as Ghost tapped at his chest, a silent sign to begin, Soap was moving. It looked promising for the first few punches. Ghost on heavy defence.
...It ended quickly.
He blocked one of Soap’s punches, deflecting the momentum to create an opening for himself. With a quick jab to the abdomen to disorientate, then a sweep of his foot, and a body check, Soap’s feet were above his head.
You sighed, hanging your head as you dug into your pocket to retrieve a few bills, “I thought he’d last a little longer,” you mopped as Gaz took the money from you.
“You gotta stop betting on the dofus.”
Across the room, Soap rolled over to his side, “That hurt.”
Ghost was already walking to the bench, “It’s supposed to. It’s an ass kicking,” he turned and pointed a finger at Soap in the same manner he had done to him just moments ago.
Masterlist
Close Quarters
A/N - everytime i see ghost in hand to hand he goes for their legs... everytime
Taglist - @thychuvaluswife ❤︎ @shuttlelauncher81 ❤︎ @lostinsideourminds ❤︎ @v1naco ❤︎ @konig-breedme ❤︎ @wolfyland07 ❤︎ @cumbersome-robes ❤︎ @adelaidai ❤︎ @ddioriez ❤︎ @johfaam0 ❤︎ @ryethebrokengae ❤︎ @mychrysanthemums ❤︎ @purplefishingline ❤︎ @dog55teeth ❤︎ @mymommmy ❤︎ @lockleywife
#simon ghost riley#simon ghost riley fanfiction#simon riley#cod fanfic#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley x reader#cod ghost#ghost mw2#cod x reader#mw2#cod mw2#ghost#ghost x reader#ghost x you#ghost x y/n#simon riley x you#simon riley x y/n
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You are Keyleth of the Air Ashari
You left home very young and naive on a quest you never expected to undertake, all because your mother left on the same quest years ago and never returned.
You meet a bunch of worldly idiots who become your best friends and your family. Together you save the capitol city and the monarchy and are given a keep and status in a place very far away from your home.
You liberate a city from vampires and help your best friend be able to go home again.
A quarter of your civilization is nearly wiped out by a massive red dragon bent on world domination. Your new home is nearly destroyed, too.
You fall in love with a beautiful boy.
You go on another quest with your friends, your family, to find the weapons that will let you defeat the dragons.
The beautiful boy gets sad.
You fight and kill the dragons, leaving the land safe to rebuild and giving you time to finish your quest. This also confirms your mother is dead.
You get to bring the beautiful boy home with you and spend time learning how to lead your people. It was never something you expected to have to do, but you're also different than you expected to be.
You leave home on a week's vacation and end up having to imprison a god.
The beautiful boy dies.
You go home again after saving the world and losing so much. It takes time to rest and recover, to try to heal. Time goes on. You love your home and your people and eventually it becomes less hard to get out of bed every morning.
Your mother, long thought dead, comes home.
You are attacked by mysterious assailants, devastating your village and also leading to another long recovery. You send a grieving widower out to try to discover the truth of what happened. You know it takes time to heal.
You help the widower recover one of his friends (the vessel of one of your arch enemies) from the jaws of death.
You find out the truth behind the attack, and realize the world needs saving yet again. You go to try to save it and then know, finally, why they attacked you years ago.
You were bait. The beautiful boy saves you but gets trapped and used as the key to start the apocalypse.
You send the widower and his friends to the moon to try to get vital information so you can stop the evil wizard from ending the world. Again. They are able to communicate with you briefly but the message is cryptic. They disappear again.
You wait with your army. All you ever seem to do is wait.
You are Keyleth of the Air Ashari and you are so very, very tired.
#cr spoilers#critical role#bells hells#c3 e88#poor kiki needs a nap#her shoulders must be so sore from holding up the world#keyleth#vox machina spoilers
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