#they did! and i just poached them! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

roosterforme · 4 months

Text

The Intern Part 1 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After you try to delay the inevitable, you begin your job search. At least that way you'll be able to get out of your father's house and away from everyone who acts like you're incapable of doing anything on your own. When Bradley pursues you, in part to bolster his own agenda, he's pretty convinced you're more capable than most.

Warnings: Language, reader's dad has a name (eventually 18+)

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Find the Prologue here.

The Intern masterlist. Check out my masterlist for more. Banner by @mak-32

Your father wasted no time over the breakfast that his chef made. You were still in your pajamas which consisted of a white silk camisole and shorts set, but he was already in a charcoal suit and tie, ready to seize the day. Or at the very least, your freedom.

"You need an internship," he said firmly as he smeared jelly on a piece of toast. "You need to complete a professional internship to show everyone that you are clever and talented and can think on your feet. You need to show them in person that your last name has nothing to do with it."

This was going to be a lot more involved than you originally thought. You carefully cut into your poached egg and asked, "So I can't just intern with you?"

He sighed and gave you a bland look. "I would love to have you with me all day and show you the ropes at Avio Technologies, but you already know that's not possible. You need to find a different department or a different company altogether."

You chewed your food and shot him a bland look of your own. It was almost amusing that he thought he could outwit you when he was the one who taught you how to play all of his games. "Maybe we could talk about this tomorrow?"

"You already got an extra day out of me, Sweetheart. My generosity has been all used up."

He looked almost amused now, so you knew you were skating on thin ice as you said, "I think an internship that starts in September would be the way to go."

When he set his knife down and bit into his toast, you straightened your back while he chewed. He took his time responding, and when he did, he asked, "And what exactly would you do during June, July and August?"

"There's a lot to be said for a little relaxation, Daddy," you told him in your most professional voice. "I've spent the last six years working nearly every day."

"And I've spent the last thirty five years working nearly every day. Please, get to your point."

You folded your hands in front of yourself and said, "I would be a better intern if I were well rested."

He wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood, taking one last sip of his coffee. If you or he wanted more to eat, his chef would make it. And you could see his housekeeper standing in the kitchen doorway ready to run in and clean up after him as soon as he left the dining room. All of it made you want to scream. You weren't even sure you wanted this lifestyle.

"Are you aware of the stipulations on your trust fund?" your father asked you in a voice laced with more than warning. You could feel the blood rush from your face. You'd been waiting your entire life for that money, and not because you wanted to use it the same way he did.

"Yes."

He nodded at you before he kissed your forehead. "Then make your decisions accordingly. I'll be back in a few hours."

As soon as he was out of the dining room, his housekeeper had her hands on his empty plate and coffee cup, and you abandoned the rest of your food for the relative solace of your bedroom. It wasn't even nine o'clock yet, but it was close to lunchtime on the east coast. Maybe you could call one of your friends from school, but they were probably starting internships of their own this week. You glanced out your windows at the pool, but the landscaping crew was out there with leaf blowers, so you just flopped down onto your bed.

What did you want out of an internship? You wanted it to be like school. You had no problem with hard work, but you preferred it to come with a hefty side of fun. Cocktails, dancing, late night dinners, boys, shopping. You weren't too picky about how that fun was served up, but you were absolutely certain there was more to life than working nonstop. And nobody in their right mind needed as much money as your father had.

You reached for your computer and rolled onto your stomach. The last place you wanted to intern was at Avio Technologies where your supervisor would report every detail of your work back to him. Even if you found a department that had nothing to do with what he was working on, you'd be screwed. Your dad knew everyone. He'd find out if you forgot to cover your mouth when you coughed or yawned too loudly. No, you needed to find something without your dad's help.

After you update your résumé and your LinkedIn profile, you thought about contacting that hot recruiter you met in grad school. You were pretty sure you still had his number in your phone contacts. Maybe you should make a to-do list. Or maybe you should go back to bed now that your dad was gone. You ended up lounging around for so long that your stomach was growling because of your unfinished breakfast.

"Fuck it," you murmured, strolling out of your room still in your silk pajamas. If the groundskeepers saw you as you walked past the French doors, then it was their own fault. And honestly, you were more covered up now than you were when you were wearing your bathing suit anyway.

The fact that you had to sneak into the kitchen so nobody tried to help you toast a slice of bread was beyond annoying, but you tiptoed through the house anyway. You ended up walking around as you ate the toast, probably leaving a trail of crumbs, but at least this way the housekeeper would be entertained again. You wondered what the staff did all day long when it was only your dad here. He could literally take care of himself if he tried, but why try when you're worth billions?

You popped the last bite into your mouth and started dancing through the foyer to the song that was stuck in your head. You did a few spins and pirouettes, and then you started making up an actual routine as you hummed. When you heard the front door open, you tried to freeze, but your foot caught on the marble floor, and you stumbled awkwardly. Just when you braced yourself for a lecture from your father, you were greeted by deep laughter and amused brown eyes instead.

"Oh," you said, pressing your palm to your chest as you regained your footing. "It's just you."

"Just me," Bradley Bradshaw replied with a shrug. He surveyed your body, and you could tell he was trying his best not to react to your outfit. Or lack thereof.

You crossed your arms over your chest. "Yes. I'm still in my pajamas."

"I didn't say a word about it," he replied immediately, those brown eyes suddenly feigning innocence.

You knew your shorts left nothing to the imagination. You were also very aware that your nipples were probably peaked against your silk top, but you kept reminding yourself you were wearing less than this yesterday in the pool. Bradley however was wearing another designer suit that hugged him in all the right places, and his tie was once again a little too loose for you to take him completely seriously. His hair was a bit mussed today, too. Maybe his wife or girlfriend had run her fingers through it, but if that was the case, then he shouldn't be looking at you this way.

"What are you doing here?" you asked him.

His hands were back on his narrow hips as he replied, "Supposed to have lunch with your father."

"At least the chef and housekeeper will have something to do," you muttered to yourself. Then a little louder you said, "My dad's not back yet, and I hope you don't expect me to entertain you."

He chuckled. "Of course not. You look busy as hell dancing around. I definitely wouldn't want to interrupt that."

"Correct," you replied, tipping your chin in the air. "I've got no time for nonsense. Unless... did you bring your Armani swim trunks? It's a little early in the day for skinny dipping." You took a step closer to him. You couldn't pinpoint exactly why it was so fun to tease him, but he looked down at the floor and blushed a little bit before he replied which made you feel even bolder.

He met your eyes and said, "How embarrassing. I'm too early for lunch, and I'm too early for skinny dipping." His voice was a little softer now and you bit your lip, which drew his gaze to your mouth.

"You could always come back later."

His amused smile from yesterday was back as he said, "You really are a bit of a brat."

Then your father was right there, closing the front door behind him with a flourish as you took a step away from Bradley. He hadn't moved an inch, and his eyes were still on yours even as your father said his name.

"Sir," Bradley replied, turning toward him and holding out his hand. Your father shook it before patting him on the shoulder.

"We've been over this before, Bradley. You can call me Ted. We've been working together for a while."

"Ted," Bradley repeated, and you could tell that your father was secretly pleased by this show of respect. You wanted to roll your eyes, and then you realized that you were standing in the foyer in your pajama set at noon, and that was going to be a problem.

When your father turned toward you, his gaze was unamused. "Have you done anything today?"

"It's only lunchtime, Daddy," you replied. "But I updated my résumé."

"You have something better than a résumé," he snapped. "You have connections. Use them. I want you to have solidified an internship by the end of the week."

"But-"

He cut you right off, and you could feel the heat rising to your face as Bradley looked at you a little sympathetically.

"I don't generally deal with people who force me to repeat myself," your father said. "And I think you'll find I'm not the only one."

Now you were getting a little angry. He was talking to you like you just tanked a business deal for him. "I'm not some random person from your company."

But you could tell he wasn't listening now. He wouldn't really listen again until you had a job. "Once you find yourself an internship, I think you'll see that whomever you're working under won't take kindly to that sort of attitude. Now go get dressed," he said, dismissing you as he nodded toward the dining room and started walking.

You were left standing there with your hands on your silk covered hips and your bottom lip held firmly between your teeth. Bradley was giving you a curious look as he started to follow your father. "I'll see you around?"

"Yeah," you replied, barely meeting his eyes. Your dad embarrassed you in front of him. And sure, maybe you should have been dressed for the day, but you just got back to California. You wanted a chance to catch your breath. But now you were standing there watching both of their retreating forms with a bad taste in your mouth.

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

After an uneventful lunch with Ted, Bradley walked slowly back through his house. It was really more of a mansion or an estate, something that Bradley supposed he himself could afford now if he so desired, but he was used to his condo in Mission Hills. And he just couldn't picture having staff living with him.

He found that his head was on a swivel, peeking out the French doors to check the pool area and glancing up the main stairs to see if you were still around. A smile always crept to his lips whenever he thought about you, and it was obvious why. You were clearly a bit of a handful. Definitely a touch bratty. Old enough to know better, but young enough to not give too much of a damn. And you always made Bradley laugh.

At Christmastime, you were tipsy and tried to get him to drink a bottle of wine with you. He spent the rest of the night wondering what would have happened if he actually followed you into your father's kitchen, just the two of you. If anyone else happened upon that scene, he figured it would have gotten back to Ted. It was probably for the best that someone else had interrupted that.

But now his mind was swirling with information. You needed an internship. Bradley was headed off to Europe and could use an extra hand with work all summer. There would be endless meetings and constant schmoozing about the proprietary missile guiding software that Avio Technologies was currently peddling to the US Navy. Bradley was silently dreading doing it alone.

You might also serve as a useful source of information. If anyone knew what exactly was going on at Avio regarding the misuse of funds that he was certain he'd stumbled upon, Bradley was sure it would be Ted. Your father knew everyone. He had his hands in the research end of things where Bradley worked as well as the sales end of things where his old friend Jake Seresin was currently dabbling.

This is why Bradley was spending so much of his time here now; he was looking for information. And also for Ted's daughter. If he could appeal to your tastes as far as a job went, maybe he could get you to join him for the summer.

"Once again, I'm sorry about my daughter," Ted said with a sigh as he walked Bradley across the foyer. "She's stubborn. Headstrong. She wants to have her own agenda. She'll make an exceptional CFO someday."

Bradley couldn't help but chuckle. "Something tells me you're right."

"She just has a lot to learn about staying in your pajamas until noon and working your connections to your benefit, but she'll get there," he replied with a wave of his hand.

Bradley glanced up the stairs one more time, hoping for a glimpse of white silk and your pretty face, but you had tucked yourself away somewhere out of sight. "Thanks for lunch," Bradley said, holding out his hand for Ted to shake. "I always appreciate when you let me pick your brain, sir."

He chuckled and clapped Bradley on the back again. "How many times do I have to tell you to use my first name?"

"Always one more, I guess," Bradley replied, heading toward the front door with a smile. "See you at the office later this week."

Once he was outside in the sunlight, he slipped on his favorite pair of aviators he'd had since he first started flying F/A-18s and headed for his SUV. He walked past an assortment of sports cars in the circular drive before he got to his more modest black Range Rover Velar. As he drove back into the city to the office, he already started to formulate a plan. He just hoped you'd be around when he showed up again tomorrow. You were already integral to his agenda.

When his phone rang, he took it in the car as he wove through traffic. He didn't even check the number since only a handful of people had it. "Bradshaw," he said as he pulled up to a red light. "Bradley, it's Judy." He sighed and relaxed back against the seat; his receptionist was exceptional. She could take a pile of bullshit and whittle it down to the bare minimum of necessary information for him. He needed to give her another raise. "I have a few résumés here, and some of them were dropped off by hand. You know... a few Vice Presidents are trying to get their kids jobs in the software development lab. There are also some who are hoping for professional internships. Want to look at them, or should I toss them?"

Bradley ran his hand over his mouth before he said, "I'm on my way back to the office now. I'll take a look at them, but I'm hoping I found an alternative solution to a professional intern that might just be perfect."

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

The following morning, you stood in your closet and held up your white bikini. You looked at it longingly, ran your fingers along the cute triangles that made up the top and wrapped the ties around your fingers before tossing it aside. Instead, you changed out of your pink nightie into an outfit that your father would probably refer to as 'smart casual' as soon as he saw you.

But you were alone for breakfast, because he was already gone for the day. When his chef asked you what you wanted to eat, she looked annoyed when you said cereal and fruit and told her you could get it yourself. The refrigerator was completely stocked, and you loved that your dad had removed cherries from his shopping lists since you found out you were allergic.

You swiped a peach and some berries onto the counter and started cutting them up, and now the chef looked like she was about to faint. You added them to the top of your cereal bowl and smiled pleasantly at her before you headed into the dining room with your coffee and breakfast. You'd have to contact some potential employers today. You already knew that. But you found yourself lingering over your meal until the cereal was soggy, trying to put off the inevitable a little longer.

You bargained with yourself. If you spent the morning looking for an internship, then you could lounge by the pool for the afternoon. "Excellent bargaining. You're so smart," you told yourself as you returned your dirty dishes to the kitchen while the housekeeper bounced on her feet nervously. She met you at the sink and snagged everything out of your hands.

With your computer on your lap, you sat on the couch and made a list of companies in San Diego that might fit the bill. The problem was, Avio was at the top of the list, simply because of the sheer number of different departments housed in the main office downtown. When you clicked on the Research and Development header, you saw a smug looking photo of Bradley Bradshaw and started to laugh.

"Clearly you know you're handsome," you muttered, reading about him in his short bio. Department Lead for Research and Development at Avio Technologies. Fifteen years as a US Naval aviator. Retired with medals of honor and a rank of Lieutenant Commander. Leading Avio in cutting edge research for naval aircraft software. "Impressive."

You scrolled through a few other departments and made a separate list of people to ask your father to introduce you to. When your stomach started growling, you realized it was already noon. "Time flies when you're not having fun," you murmured as you dashed upstairs, your bikini calling to you like a siren song.

Only because it would be convenient, you decided to ask the chef to make you lunch so you could eat it outside by the pool. You were just tying your sheer beach cover up over your bathing suit and leaving your room when you heard your dad's voice along with some others. As silently as you could, you tiptoed barefoot down the main stairs, looked both ways and dashed to the left toward the French doors. And then you slammed directly into someone.

"Shit," you whispered, grabbing onto an Armani suit while hands came up to your back to steady you. Then you looked up into those same pretty brown eyes as the big hands tightened around your waist. "It's you again."

Bradley was laughing, and the deep rumble had you pressing yourself against him. "Me again."

You tried not to laugh as you whispered, "If you come with me, you can ditch the rest of the suits." For some reason, you wanted him to join you on the patio, just like he had the other day. He'd ditched everyone else for your company then, and you wanted him to do precisely that again.

You tugged him toward the doors, but he just shook his head. "It's too early for skinny dipping, remember?" A rather inappropriate retort was poised and ready to go, just sitting on the tip of your tongue, but he added, "But I actually was looking for you."

Now your heart fluttered. "You were?"

"Mmhmm," he hummed, releasing his hold on you. Your initial instinct was to whine until he touched you again, and you had to bite your lip to prevent another embarrassing moment. "I couldn't help but overhear yesterday that you're looking for a professional internship."

When he paused, you said, "I am. Go on."

He smirked, and he looked so much like his photo on the Avio Technologies website, you almost started laughing again. "I think I have something that could be exactly what you're looking for. Are you free tomorrow?"

"I could be. As long as it doesn't interfere with my sunbathing," you told him, and you watched his Adam's apple bob as his gaze dipped briefly to your chest.

Your breath caught in your throat as that pretty pink color flooded his cheeks. He reached into his pocket without taking his eyes off your face and then held a business card between his index and middle fingers right in front of your lips. "Call my office this afternoon. Judy will set something up for tomorrow." He paused again. "If you're interested."

You plucked the card from his grasp, and he smiled as he turned to his left and headed for your father's conference room. As you studied the tidy font, you wondered what he was looking for in an intern. You wondered what he could offer you. After a quick detour to grab your phone, you went outside to make a call.

You were interested.

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

Interested is an understatement for me. Offer her a job, Bradley! And pack you swim shorts, baby boy. Thank you @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 2

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@daisyhollyxox

@wintercap89

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@chaoticassidy

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@xoxabs88xox

@thedroneranger

@bradshawsbitch

@cherrycola27

@fanboyswhore9

@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

@gennyanydots

@mattyskies

@hookslove1592

@blahehblah

@sadpetalsstuff

@local-spidey

@schoollover

@lex-winchester

@magicalmorg

@nicole01-23

@jessicab1991

@happyrebelruins

@samsgoddess

@ughthisisntright

@bellaireland1981

@sagittarius-flowerchild

531 notes · View notes

glorious-spoon · 25 days

Text

to loosen his grip [9-1-1 | Buck/Eddie]

~1k words | eddie & tommy; pre-relationship eddie/buck

spec fic for 7x04

The thing is, Eddie's not stupid.

Eddie's not stupid, and Buck's about as subtle as a brick to the face on a good day. He can't help it. Everything he's feeling comes spilling out of him; keeping it inside seems as impossible for him as holding the tide back with a leaky sieve. It's not something Eddie relates to that much, honestly. If anything, he's got the opposite problem. He crushes everything he's feeling into a tight little knot and holds onto it with white knuckles until he can't hold on anymore. It lost him Shannon—would have lost him Shannon even if she'd lived—and it nearly lost him both his job and his sanity in the end. He's still learning how to loosen his grip.

Buck still needs to learn how to get a grip, like, at all.

So yeah, Eddie knows. Not right away; he doesn't really think anything of it when he picks Tommy up from the hanger and Buck is there. In the truck, he watches Buck's receding figure in the rearview mirror for a moment before Tommy says, "Not trying to poach Evan from the 118, I promise."

He's laughing about it a little bit. Eddie scoffs and says, "Buck? You'd have to pry him out of that house before he'd go anywhere else."

He doesn't mention the lawsuit. That's water long under the bridge now, and it's not a time in his life he likes to think back on that much. But he knows it's true; Buck can say whatever he wants about keeping his options fluid, but when he finds people and a place he wants to keep, he hangs onto them.

Tommy is good company, anyway. It's something he's missed, since the Army: the easy camaraderie over beers, sitting in a shouting crowd in Vegas, shooting the shit in a bar afterward. Tommy's got a lift, and he brings his abuelo's Chevelle over, and it's an easy slide from that into a half-casual bout of muay thai, and Eddie has missed that, too: sparring just for fun, just for the hell of it, not for the money or because his demons were going to claw themselves out of his chest with bloody nails otherwise.

"See you've caught some lead," Tommy observes once they're done, bruised and a little breathless, shirtless on the bench in his garage. Eddie caps his Gatorade and glances up, and for a second he doesn't even know what Tommy is talking about until he nods at Eddie's right shoulder and asks, "That from overseas?"

Eddie touches the bullet scar, a long-healed dimple by now. It's not that noticeable anymore, at least from the front. The surgical scars from his thoracotomy are still more obvious, but even they've faded.

"Oh, no," he says. "I mean, yeah, I did, but this one was right here in L.A."

"Right, the sniper," Tommy agrees. "Shit. I remember seeing that Captain Nash caught a bullet. Didn't realize you were the other one from his house that got shot."

"Yeah, well." Eddie shrugs, uncapping his Gatorade again. "It was a long time ago."

He likes that, too. Talking about it with someone who never saw the bullet hole, only the scar. Talking about it with someone who's never had his blood in his mouth, who never knelt above him in a speeding truck and begged him to hang on.

He lied to Buck about it, because Buck's so close to it that he might as well have been shot too. It's easier like this, because Tommy isn't wounded by the memory; Tommy shrugs and asks if he wants to grab a pizza after this, and Eddie slings a towel over his shoulder and lets Tommy pull him to his feet, and they have pizza and a couple more beers, and it's easy. He's missed easy. He thinks he deserves to have something easy, for a change.

"I mean, I think it's great," Buck says, apropos of pretty much exactly nothing a couple of days later. "You can never have too many friends, you know?"

He's vibrating with that exact same anxious energy that Eddie remembers from his first day at the 118, when Buck seemed one wrong move away from pissing on the exercise equipment or maybe shoving him down the stairs. It awakens some puckish little part of Eddie that can't help but needle him. You're standing in the wrong light, man, as if he's ever in his life had an opinion about photography lighting, but it got Buck to bristle and snap like a wounded dog, all electric fury, and Eddie liked that, too, for reasons that he understands better now than he did back then.

So he shrugs, and he says lightly, "You know, it's like that thing when you meet somebody and you just click. You know what I mean?"

It's a jab, and not a very subtle one. He still remembers standing in the sunlight and listening to Buck tell him that Natalia saw him, after Eddie watched him hang there in the rain and felt his chest unmoving beneath his palms and sat through those endless hours in the fucking hospital waiting for him to wake up. After Eddie brought him home, and listened to his quiet confession in his kitchen, and tried as well as he knew how to hold Buck's still-beating heart gently.

But sure. Natalia saw him. For all of four months, apparently.

He thinks he wants Buck to flinch and snap back, just a little. It's not the place for it—they're in the middle of a goddamn call—but he's stupid about Buck. Always has been.

Buck doesn't flinch. He sags instead, his mouth downturned, and he mutters, "Yeah. Yeah, I really do."

And it's something they should talk about, maybe, but then Ravi calls up for more slack, and there are other things to focus on for the time being.

#911 #911 spoilers #911 speculation #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #tommy kinard #petty eddie? petty eddie #sliding this one JUUUUST under the wire lol #my fic

248 notes · View notes

blueparadis · 1 year

Text

❝ STRAWBERRY SKIES ❞ + RIN ITOSHI !

+. CWs —» sae itoshi x f!reader x rin itoshi, ( domestic ) fluff, angst, hurt & comfort, dating culture, hookups, implicit smut, unrequited feelings,acquaintances to lovers, slowburn; word count — 2.5k

+. PRECIS —» after an accidental encounter rin finds himself drawn to you while all sae wanted was to be apart from you.

+. NOTES —» no clue how i came up with this idea. All i wanted to do was to write on Sae ( lol ) ; hbd to me. i wanted to host an event which I'll but it's on hold for now. I don't want to burden myself and drive out of writing. happy reading fellas ! tap here to read my works.

“First time ?”Rin asked, eyes fixated on yours as his Adam apple bobbed, suggesting that you were not the only one who was barely able to keep your composure.

“Um-hm”, you hummed in response with a little nod breaking the eye contact that seemed to put a curve of delight along his lips.

“Yep. thought so.”, he supplied, “Well, mine too.”, he added, looking hopelessly at the burnt poached egg that refused to leave the frying pan no matter how much you tried.

The younger Itoshi skillfully placed himself on the kitchen counter pushing aside the tray of such unevenly chopped vegetables near the sink. You kept the frying pan aside and headed towards the fridge to fetch a bottle of juice. “I told you to watch …

“I’ll watch the poach when you’re next to me?”, Rin blurted out, quite defensively as if he was not at any fault; part of him was astonished at how you expected him to do such a thing when you were roaming in the kitchen wearing shorts and his shirt.

Your lacy lavender bra was a great bother. God! How direly he craved to see you without his shirt! Would you wear a matching pair? Actually, given your status and background, you seemed like you would do that.

“Yes. so that I learn how to cook and your brother stops yelling at me.”, you bluntly responded. “Ni-chan yells at her? How come? She seems so nice. Why though?”

It is true that Rin has been totally at fault for the burnt poached egg and those half-hearted chopped vegetables since he was never on board with this idea in the first place. He would rather order food and spend the time cuddling with you till the doorbell rings or touching you in ways that you mourn for him when he is not around. But his hands are tied.

After being in several relationships that ended in agony, most of them, you knew that Rin was not just trying to flirt. He wanted to impress you which is why you are here in his home after being followed by him like a lost puppy for half a month.

Not at some fancy restaurant and being the headline of the newspaper the very next day. It has been just two months since this thing between the two of you started; it is hard to describe. It is neither a relationship nor . . . ‘What do people call it again?’, a situationship. Yep, that was not the case either.

It was a lavish party after a victory match when Rin walked up to you as you stood in the lonely balcony under the moon lit night. The breeze was cool , letting you reel in the feeling of being a little tipsy.

“Mind a company?”,a bold familiar voice turned up and to that you turned on your heel finding a man in a finely tailored peak lapel suit holding two glasses in one hand and the other shoved inside the pockets. He was neatly dressed for a party like this, even for a man.

With eyes like that, like emerald stones embedded as the stars across the sky to foretell your future, if you looked a little too long than usual, anyone would be smitten with him. Perhaps, this is what they call love at first sight.

How could you deny him? Besides, he was one of the guests so you had to accept the drink even if you did not want to.

“Okay.”, you took one of the glasses from him with a swing yet careful enough not to graze your fingers against his palm and immediately turned around resting your elbows on the railing. You had no intention of being another one in his list; of course, boys like that always had one, always.

“You should not have drank that much…”, Rin stood beside you, swirling the wine in his glass. “... You could have avoided the party, you know…”, he took a sip, “... is it so hard for you to say no to people?” You rolled your tongue through the insides of your mouth before shifting your gaze on him.

‘Stop it, you’re not my dad.’ With a chaste smile you muttered, “Thank you for the drink . . .”, tilting your head a little you amended, “. . . and the company.”

Of course, Rin hated that you worked for his brother. You were not entirely sure if it was actually because of Sae or the fact that Sae took more interest in you than him. He reeked of envy but which one was it? If it were the first you could not help much and if it were the second, you were utterly screwed. Rin would find every opportunity to torment you and Sae would not pay any heed to his childish tantrums pushing his brother being more stubborn than he already is, determined to be a perpetual nuisance to you.

Rin did not know. He was not aware that Sae and you were just casual friends, more like acquaintances. Sure, Sae tried his luck with you many times but it was too friendly to bother about what ifs and buts.

Besides, Sae knew you could be more useful as a friend than his girlfriend. You have made abundantly clear that you are not some trophy girlfriend that he can show off to people. He had tried all the tricks of old books to rile you up, to make you jealous, to get under your skin but eventually it came down to sharing secrets and beers, truth or dare.

“Can I walk you home?”

You halted on your tipsy steps and let out a sigh of disappointment. You just did not want to talk to him, like not at all, not in this mood. You turned your head and nodded in his direction. Rin swallowed, not sure what he would do next since he thought you would flatly decline. You could say NO but somewhere at the bottom of your heart you just wanted to know, ‘does Rin care like his brother? Would he give a fuck if it was the other way around?’

Rin was surprised that your home was not even in a proper walking distance. He thought he had to bear this awful silence while driving you home. The walk was just a floor away. “You didn’t know that you were partying under my roof, offering me a drink that’s quite a staple to me?”, you said followed by a little cackle to ease him. He was way too stiff for a man who has a list of girls in speed dial.

You walked out of the elevator and so did he. “Most of the buildings are owned by my father. I’m sure you’ve heard of him. Mikage corporations? Does that ring a bell?” A raised eyebrow that was all you received from him.A raised eyebrow that did not tell you whether it rang a bell or bounced off. You unbuckled the watch from your left wrist before uttering, “Are you staying for the show or. . . ?”

With that line, Rin could tell how much of a tease you are. Maybe that is why Sae liked having you around. Maybe that is why people feel comfortable around you. He has watched you along with brother plenty of times, sometimes in his apartment, at the airport, at markets but Rin never gave a damn about it until he watched his brother with another girl dancing merrily as you cheered them on, just a few days ago. It was a friendly gathering. He was intrigued; no not about you but what exactly was your relationship with him?

“Maybe some other day.”Rin closed the gap between the two of you with a single step, his hand around your waist making you gasp a little at his sudden closeness. A blink and then you looked at him with surprise in your eyes before he swayed off his hand and stood as if he was at gunpoint saying, “I thought you were genuinely offering…”

He backed away, relishing the surprised look on your face. Part of him wanted to take you then and there but another part of him was gentleman enough not to have you under the influence of alcohol. “See you at the next party.” Rin walked towards the elevator hoping for something, anything as a comeback. He was even willing to take one of those feeble low growls of protest but when he turned around you were not there anymore.

Surprisingly, you did not have to wait till the next party. He was standing outside your office the very next day. With his hands inside his slacks and an umbrella at another hand. He was surfing through his phone as you watched him in awe. You waved at him as he looked at you. Even though the splattering raindrops were hitting the window you could hear him smirk as a curve of delight spread across his cheeks.

[ a message from angry bird itoshi

“Hi. Rin here ”

“I’m waiting till you’re done.” ]

You let out a laugh keeping your phone aside. Of course, he took his brother’s phone, went through his contacts and made sure to message you from his phone. No wonder Sae likes to avoid him.

[ “pick one: hot chocolate or ice-creams” ]

You did not reply for two reasons; one: Sae would not be very happy about this and two: Rin was just the type of guy who gets under the skin very easily, the type you would like to avoid the most.

Eyes as dark as a starless sky that spoke volumes if one were to stare too much yet so agonizingly silent. The kind of face that it hurts to look at yet so pretty, so full of hopes. Rin Itoshi was the kind they would write in poetries, and hide behind the canvas of an abstract painting. Dark-haired, pretty face, luscious lips, morbid eyes. Underneath this boyish façade was something some would not want to see.

Most people call it envy, but you would rather call it an outgrowth of wrath, a mere tantrum. He was just envious of his brother in every way he admired him, so much so that he chased everything that his brother did.

He waited. He waited for two hours and when you were walking out of the office. It had already started raining. The umbrella was too short for two people but both of you managed to reach the nearby cafeteria, half-drenched in rain and half -drenched in love.

Rin was patient with you even if you threw lots of tantrums to test him,to get rid of him but he stayed. Within a span of another two months, things became a little intimate, a bit physical and your first time was nothing like you imagined it would be.

Not because of the person, but because of the place. Rin had come to visit you in your office and he was told to wait. He did. He is used to it by now. Every time he waited for you, he felt like he was trying to hold sand in his hands. When he saw you walking towards the exit with bodyguards around, your mind to busy to acknowledge his presence, he didn't feel annoyed.

But you shouldn't have made him wait so long, not back then and not even now. When you were done with your meeting, when he was finally able to talk to you after days, after a month of being away from you he didn't waste any time. He mourned you too much to be in his control.

And now he has you laying on the work surface, with one of your legs over his shoulder as he slowly thrusts in you. The curtains are not drawn, air conditioner is off and its afternoon, lunch break while Rin is balls deep inside you making you gasp with each of his strong calculative slow thrusts.

It's not okay. You and Rin did everything backward. Casually flirted, went on random dates, and fucked each other senselessly as if you two would not see each other for eons or have been reunited with your love in this life.

And he did all of these just to get to know you and you let him. You let him because you didn't want to be the woman to teach him about broken love. You did it because you couldn't hurt him. You did it because he didn't seem to be what they said about him, not a bit, or was it because he actually likes you.

Unlike him, you didn't have to wait long to have your answer, didn't have to spend sleepless nights thinking, is it really love or just a phase?

Now you are in his apartment wearing one of his shirts since your dress was ruined. Sae would be here in any minute. He gets so cranky if he doesn't get home-cooked meals.

“I’m back.” Sae tosses his bags onto the sofa and rushes towards the bathroom. This wasn't always the case; generally, he'd rest a bit, make sure to avoid his brother at all costs, and then go for a shower. Now that you are here, all he did was behave like a child.

“Ni-san, don't throw your bags like that…”, Rin exclaimed with congested eyebrows. “Ah geez! Stop it.”, he yelled when Sae was about to disorient the whole wardrobe for his favorite towel.

“Check the black bag while I'm in shower”, Sae said before vanishing into the bathroom. Rin knew he brought gifts. It's not like they aren't available here but it's the thought that matters, he remembered. You told him that once.

It's okay. Sae thinks as the hot shower warms his skin. Sae and you never belonged together. You and he always belonged to ‘almost and maybe’; maybe we could be something; she looked almost in love with me; maybe we were almost lovers.

It's okay. Sae has done a lot of things for you not to draw in your attention. He has dated girls, flaunted about it to you and mourned alone. He did it because he could never make you smile like his brother. He did it because you were not made for him; he knew it from the very beginning. He knew it all along that you were made for his brother.

It's okay, Sae thinks as he drags the chair and sits beside his brother shooting a smile at you with a sunburn in his heart, ready to enjoy the meal you have made. You have improved a lot since the last time. That is why he likes you; you heal whatever is broken. That is why he let you go.

Does he regret it? Nope. Since you are loved like you deserved and he got back what he sacrificed you for, his brother, Rin Itoshi.

@tokyometronetwork

tagging y'all cuz i think you might like this one @itoshi-s @orchid3a @swanphantasm @nyaaaaanma @saetoshis @shoyoist @anantaru @lalunanymph @chronic-claire-universe @garoujo @katasstrophy

2K notes · View notes

butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 1 month

Text

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

228 notes · View notes

murfeelee · 11 months

Text

Murf's Top 50 Mods - Part 3 (2020 - 2023 Edition)

I made a Top 50 list (Pt 1 and Pt2) back in 2016, talking about mods that I've used & love. But with all the goated content that the amazing TS3 community continues to churn out, I NEEDED to update my list! This one in no way diminishes or negates the other mods I've already listed--like, I shouldn't have to sit here and explain how NRAAS continues to carry TS3 on its freaking shoulders, ok. This is just MORE mods, the Top 50 most RECENT ones I've tried out since, like, quarantine.

I am a VERY niche simmer--I love fantasy gameplay, so my fave mods are the ones that not only offer general quality of life improvements, but also add new abilities and interactive objects inspired by different cultures, time periods, or genres. So y'all already KNOW which ones have earned my top spots. They're not based on which mods are "better," just which ones I personally have been using the most.

1: Smooth Patch, LazyDuchess

I've already gushed about this mod, but oh well. Like--I use an EFFTON of CC. My Live Mode gameplay itself doesn't tend to lag so much as my game's slow to LOAD, slow to save, CAS is a nightmare, I can do my taxes waiting for the Misc Decor section to open, etc etc. But the Smooth Patch loads everything so much quicker for me! 😭

One thing is that on the EA App version (curse you, EA) the Master Controller package didn't work on my end, so I took it out, but everything else has been great!

2: Search Mod, LazyDuchess

Speaking of the Misc Decor section -- HOW LONG did we ask EA for a Search function y'all? Only to be ignored. Then the second TS4 is released, it ain't got a effing thing in it, but it's got a Search function??? 🤔 ISTG it's like the simgurus were told to take all of the TS3 community's best suggestions, and poach them for TS4 (like vampire coffins--NO I'm not over it!). WHY do modders have to do your frikkin job for you, EA?! I call EA lazy all the time cuz EA you suck, so it's the most ironic thing ever that LazyDuchess is out here KILLING IT.

My ONLY "complaint" about the Search mod is the position of the icon. I use A LOT of Collection Files, and I noticed that the Search icon actually covers the Delete button when in the Collection viewer. So I can't delete items in collections with the Search icon in the way.

But this is a MINOR nitpick--I almost never delete items, it's just something I noticed is all.

3 - 8: OCCULT MODS: EVERYTHING by @puddingface1902

Y'all already know the Enhanced Witches mod is my favorite mod ever made. But PF1902 also made cool enhancements to the Fairies, Genies, Vampires, Werewolves, and Mermaids too! My sims are usually Nraas hybrids (e.g.: Sakura is a faery, witch & plantsim; Magnus Bane is a witch & genie; etc.), so it's FANTASTIC having so many new abilities for my magical occults. 😍

9 - 11: OCCULT MODS by xantak22

Even more occult mods at MTS are for enhanced Plantsims, Ghosts, and Mummies! I was dying for more Plantsim abilities, omg, they're my 3rd fave occult after Witches & Fae.

12: Sim Control Tools by Knight

Sooooo many quality of life mods have come out! ^0^

I've been ABUSING the Teleport To Me function, to quickly get sims off of lots & where I need them to be. It also lets sims unlock more Social/Romantic interactions. (Now all we need is a way to interact with sims from EA's useless thumbnails.)

13 - 18: @anitmb's mods

There are SOOOO many--most I've yet to even try. But so far newer ones I've been using are the Deck of Cards (FINALLY something other than EA's bulky AF poker table!), Farm Mod (look at all these CHICKENS!), and Hunting mod so my 8000 archer sims can actually hunt! (Ofc I've also used the Woodcutter and Anvil mods in my older gameplay posts, too.) And @mspoodle1's edit of the Cup of Tea mod is so pretty.

19: @mspoodle1's Poker table

Another excellent cards mod is this medieval style poker table I use a lot now, too.

20: @omedapixel's Wildflowers DR

I like EA's default wildflowers from SSNS, but Omeda's are just sooooo much nicer. (I haven't gotten around to trying out their Harvestable Plant DR yet.)

21: Swordfighting mod by CyrusBanefort

En garde! This mod is so freaking epic!

One thing I've noticed is that the game lags while it waits for the mod to boot up (a message has to first pop up saying it's running when you first launch your saves). But other than that this mod is excellent.

22 - 24: Yoga rugs

I've long been using the yoga rugs by Kitabalibar and the edited one from @mspoodle1. But now there's the newest one by @twinsimming, with brand new animations & features. The more the merrier I say, LOL. What's especially neat is the kids wobbling around as they try to do yoga! :3

25 - 30: TheSweetSimmer's mods--so cute! :3

Omg so frikkin many, I can't even catch up! The interactions are so freaking precious, like from the More Toddler Interactions (cuddle, look at, etc) & Biggest Little Mod (hug legs), I've never had so much fun playing with kids! <3 And I LOVE that they can Catch Butterflies and Pick Flowers--you'd think plantsim children would be able to do this by default, EA! Honestly, just grab everything by TSS, your kid sims will thank you!

31 - 33: @spheresims Medieval/Nature/Tribal mods

Y'all know I'm crazy about the Functional Fireplaces mod (the cauldrons, baby! 😈), but the One with Nature and Wildlife Hunting mods are great too, perfectly complimenting the off-the-grid realness.

34: @olomayasims/Cmomoney Smoking Mod Overhaul

The original smoking mod was on my first Top 50 list, so it's awesome seeing it get new upgrades, interactions & animations.

I've never smoked IRL, but sooooo many of my sims just puff-puff away; I'm such an enabler. U_U Now all we need is cigars and pipes!

35 - 38: Callia-Evergreen/Camkitty's CAS CC for animal hybrids at MTS

Not a "mod" per se, but whatever--my list my rules! I love ALL of their CC, but I get SO MUCH use out of animal-themed CC like the digitigrade sliders, wolf feet, lizard tails, and fae wings. Do check them out if you like to play with horror and monster-sims!

39: @greenplumbboblover's Sheep

EASILY one of the most incredible mods I've ever seen. Like....HOW? (Once @omedapixel's Goats are done I'm gonna start screaming someone do llamas pleeeeeaaaaase!!!)

40: Arsil's musical instruments mod

I used the sax most recently in my IWTV gameplay, and it was excellent, perfect for the NOLA vibes! However, although I use the flute A LOT more (for my Untamed gameplay--it's been such a GODSEND!), I really wish the hands were positioned better, preferably using the poses from Chisims' flute poseset. (But I don't eff with poses/animations, otherwise I'd do it myself. U_U) Ah well, it's still one of my fave mods though.

41 - 42: Flower Arranging mod by zoe22 + @mspoodle1's Florist Collection

Guys, I've been wanting this mod since FOREVER! ^0^ (I swear, the best thing about TS4 is all the 4t3 conversions, LMAO!) I just wish Teens could Dabble and use it, too--all they can do is stock the table.

43: Just Sit/Nap Anywhere by FloTheory

Sometimes you just want sims to fall asleep anywhere, DANG, EA!

44: @sweetdevil-sims' Toddler Food DR

Cuz EA's food is UUUUUUUUGLY~! I kept forgetting to install it, only to be rudely reminded every time I had to look at my toddler sims eating MUD.

45 - 46: @mspoodle1's mail pen quill DR and @omedapixel's pencil quill DR

I looooove quill pens IRL (ballpoint pens, not the fountain pens--I'm way too messy), so having mods that let my sims use them too is 👌

47: Fireflies Enhanced! by Canibal_MLO

I love anything that enhances the wildlife and collectibles/harvestables to be more dynamic and interactive. And I was JUST about to do a firefly catching scene for my IWTV insp. gameplay, so this came right on time! The falling leaves effect is delightful, but I kinda wish it was falling flower petals instead, cuz ofc I do. 🌸

48: Unicorn Aurora DR by Canibal_MLO

GORGEOUS. This mod replaces the unicorn mist with northern lights, like.... I love the genius ideas simmers have.

49: Custom Plumbbob Color tool by CrossTheMersey

What a neat idea! Although the default Maxis colors are ingrained in my psyche, with the iconic green plumbbob, as soon as I saw this mod I knew I wanted to at least try something different and play around with it.

50: @aa6x7's Teru Teru Bozu + other edits [Honorable Mention]

I rave about Cmomoney's Time/Weather Mod all the time, I use it constantly. AA6x7's Teru Teru Bozu (Japanese "Sunshine Monk" charms) is kinda like a simpler version of it, as it just resets bad weather back to Sunny. But it's such a cute idea and perfect for my gameplay. Plus, AA6x7 makes all kinds of neat edits/mods to EA's bulky AF meshes, so if you haven't checked them out already, DO!

And that's all the mods I've managed to try out recently!

I don't have anywhere near the kind of free time that I used to, so my simming has been put on the backburner and I've missed all kinds of cool and exciting releases. But trust: I am taking note, so that I know what to try once I have time.

All my deepest & sincerest gratitude & love to the entire sims community, for keeping The Sims 3 going--this year was the 14th anniversary! Here's to 14 more! 🥳 Happy Simming!

#simblr #sims 3 mods #sims 3 content list #the sims 3 #sims 3 medieval #sims 3 fantasy #sims 3 supernatural #EA you suck

1K notes · View notes

is-the-owl-video-cute · 11 months

Note

Did you ever actually say anything along these lines or are people making things up about you again? Sorry to bring this up but I am curious on what your real stance is

This is referring to my stating that carcasses have a vital role in ecology and collecting random carcasses from ecosystems is no better than chopping down trees in a natural forest and taking them home. I said roadkill would be fine if not for the fact most mammalian wildlife is a huge risk for zoonoses and you can be putting yourself in danger of you aren’t using proper PPE.

Those statements of course were met with bone pearl clutching from the carcass collectors. My larger issue with that community is with instances of poaching being passed off as “wow I found this fully intact skeleton in the woods that’s totally cleaned I definitely didn’t trap and kill this rare animal for clout and money”.

I’ve also seen a LOT of white women illegally take parts of native birds (usually raptors) and claim they’re 1/824 Native American and that they’re using those parts to do mystic witch magic. That irritates me the most because it often combines poaching, cultural appropriation, and violation of the migratory bird treaty act just to feel ~special~ with their crafts.

624 notes · View notes

leopardom · 2 months

Text

Joker Out (Bojan, Kris and Nace) interview on The David Horton Show on Gorgeous Radio (18/2/24) - a summary:

if they could go to esc with another esc song they’d go with Zitti e Buoni (or Baila El Chiki Chiki as Bojan said)

*some laughter at the thought of Nace dressed as Victoria De Angelis*

Bojan’s and Kris’ favourite lyrics from Everybody’s Waiting are “what a wonderful life, a perfect time to get lost in the unoriginal line” and Nace’s “case closed, soul sold” (which he didn’t pronounce correctly because he twisted his tongue 💀)

they were asked about their fave song of all time. Kris: gotta check his spotify, Bojan: Yesterday by The Beatles, Nace: Behind Blue Eyes by The Who

they don’t want to spoil esc 2024 to themselves so it’s something they watch for the first time when the time for the live shows comes

the british habits they’ve picked up since moving to London are drinking english breakfast tea every morning, taking the double decker bus to rehearsal, taking the trash to the street and also poached eggs seem very british to them???

pineapple on pizza: Jure - yes, everyone else - no

they’re big soup lovers

when asked which slovenian esc entries they like a lot they said Samo Ljubezen, Veronika, Disko and No One

if they could collaborate with any artist it would be Dua Lipa and Käärijä in the same song (obviously Käärijä was mentioned by Bojan)

the sound for Everybody’s Waiting came naturally to them and they just rolled with it

the third album will be very diverse. it’s gonna have familiar sounds from the past but they will also experiment

Nace would be down for a bass tutorial like the guitar tutorial Kris did for Plastika

they like playing all kinds of venues, from very small to big ones

apparently Bojan is learning to cook now that they’re in London and he’s looking forward to doing more when they get back to Ljubljana

from their time in London Kris has learned to not mind commuting

the Taylor Swift songs they like are I Knew You Were Trouble and Blank Space

Bojan’s favourite snack is popcorn

#joker out #bojan cvjetićanin #kris guštin #nace jordan

180 notes · View notes

mountainsandmayhem · 2 months

Text

Wings. Fire. Magic. Part 2

Joel Miller x Female Reader (18+)

Masterlist || Part One

Summary: Joel takes you to The King despite your protests and everything he thought he knew is changed.

CW: I don’t want to give any spoilers so I’m just going to say that there’s some violence near the end. No smut, yet.

A/N: Thank you @mermaidgirl30 for beta reading this for me and to everyone who has commented and reblogged the first part of this story.

Word Count: 3.2k

“You do know what the king will do to me, right?” You break the silence that has been surrounding you two since last night as Joel settles behind you on Remmer. The dragon didn’t leave your side all night, curling around you as you slept, keeping you warm and protected.

“The same thing they do with every other prisoner.” He says flatly, as if it’s not your life or the livelihood of your family that he’s about to doom.

“He’ll either slice off my wings to take the power for himself or send me to a breeding camp.” Remmer shutters slightly underneath you before taking off for the sky.

The sudden movement slides you back in the saddle, your body pressing against Joel’s strong chest. You can feel the cold buckles of his leathers pressing against your back and a dull ache thumps from your bandaged wing. He doesn’t push you off or adjust himself away from you, something in him has softened since he saved you last night. You lean back into him slightly to test his reaction. Even though he’s about to take you to The King, which will most likely end up with you dead, you somehow feel safe with him. That feeling of security only intensifies when he gathers the reins with one hand and then moves the other to wrap around your body.

The soft facial hair along his jawline tickles the shell of your ear as he says, “Typical Fae paranoia. You think everyone is against you.”

You glare straight ahead at the clouds, “You saved me from sprites who wanted to slice me open for their own gain last night. Everyone is against us.”

You scoot forward, no longer wanting any part of your body against his. Joel stops you, pulling you back against his body by your waist. His voice softens, thumb rubbing gentle circles along your side, “By not taking you to The King I’m equally as guilty. You know that.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Joel Miller. Guardian of Dragons, Warrior and Keeper of The Realm.”

Something about you using his full titles in that sarcastic tone sets his teeth on edge. He has sworn to protect The Realm. He had to once The King found out about Remmer, that’s how it works. You can’t raise animals capable of mass destruction and not swear some sort of allegiance to The King.

He’s taken prisoners in before, dropped them with The King and thought of them no more. But seeing you on the ground, screaming for help as those males tried to take your wings…It reminded him of when he found Remmer.

She was just a baby, no bigger than a baby bear. Her little screams filled the empty forest and when he finally found the source she was chained down, men standing around her arguing over who would be the one to cut her wings. Much like Fae wings, dragon wings are sought after and poached; however, they’re only used for dark magic.

Something in Joel snapped at Rem’s sad cries. He killed every single one of those men, all fifteen of them, with just his axe and his bare hands.

When he unleashed the chains around the little black dragon she just stared at him curiously with bright orange eyes. He did what his father had taught him and walked away slowly, never turning his back, and avoiding eye contact. She bounced along after him and sat at his feet when he stopped walking. They’ve been almost inseparable ever since.

Joel shakes his head, you stole from him. And he has to leave it at that, because if he thinks about it too hard he’ll turn around. When he finally caught up to you in the woods the other day he wasn’t expecting to find someone as soft and pretty as you. A pinkish blush spread across your cheeks from the exertion of running and flying as fast as you could. The orange glow from the stolen egg that you hid behind your back encased you in a warm and inviting glow. If it wasn’t for the terror in your eyes at seeing Remmer, and Joel’s anger at whomever took the egg, he would have dropped to his knees right there. Gave you everything you wanted.

She stole from you, he reminds himself again.

A little voice in the back of his head speaks up, to help her family. How many Fae are you about to doom?

He can understand that call from deep in your gut to care for family. He would have done anything to save Sarah. Anything. The small hand tattoo he has over his heart warms at the thought of her. She had succumbed to an illness that takes many human children born in this world. He held her frail body as she grew weaker and weaker. When she took her last breath in his arms it had almost killed him.

As you and Joel begin to descend below the clouds a beautiful castle appears. The King’s castle sits embedded in a mountain, almost as if the mountain grew it there. A winding stone staircase leads down to a colourful village, houses and shops in pastel pinks, yellows, oranges and greens run along the winding shore. The same turquoise blue water from the meadow fills the river, wrapping around the mountain and out as far as you can see. Along the front wall of the castle are blue and white flags with the head of a lion. They flutter in the breeze and your heart matches their rhythm.

You are going to die today.

Your breaths start coming in rapidly and you squeeze your wings tightly against your back. Fear spreads out from your chest, it feels like millions of worms wiggling and inching across your body.

Rem swoops down and lands on top of a large flat tower on the edge of the castle. You feel Joel hesitate behind you, and when you turn your head to look at him his Adam's Apple bobs with a hard swallow. He slides down the dragon, she lets out a whine and Joel walks around to meet her gaze.

“I know,” he says quietly, stroking her strong neck.

What does he know? What does Remmer know? The fear intensifies, you’re going to be slaughtered. You’re sure of it.

You stare at Joel from atop his dragon. He reaches a hand up to you and you slide your shaky fingers into his grip, the glowing green cuff that’s eradicated your magic sliding down your delicate wrist. Joel's jaw flexes when he sees it.

You swing your leg off the saddle and stand on Rem’s bent leg. Joel reaches up and places his large hands on your waist, lifting you and guiding your body down along his until your feet are planted on the floor in front of him. You’re so close that when you look up you think you might see a hint of sadness and regret in his eyes.

He says something quietly to Rem before grabbing your arm and leading you down a long winding staircase, the top of this tower must be a landing pad for dragons and other beasts. When you reach the bottom, he hesitates again before stepping out into a wide, outdoor stone hallway. You hear Rem’s cries as she flies off of the tower.

Joel’s grip tightens on the back of your arm as he leads you towards two large wooden doors, guards flanking on each side. Their armour is emblazoned with Lions heads on their chest. You think you might stop breathing, terror is coursing through you and you’re sure the only reason you’re upright is because of Joel’s strong grip on your bicep. You walk along beside him, counting the steps to your impending doom.

When the doors part, Joel leads you down a long great room. There’s guards posted up along the walls, standing below stained glass windows. They’re easily twenty feet tall, pictures of The King's triumphs painted in the glass. Each one more brutal than the next.

At the end of the hallway is a small set of stairs, The King and a few of his advisors sitting up top. There’s a small audience of men around the bottom of the stairs. Joel comes to a halt and bows his head at The King. You stand still. Pleasantries or not, The King will hurt you. He’s much older than you expected, balding under his crown, sun spots and age lines across his face.

“Joel Miller,” he says. His voice reminds you of the calm before a storm, eerily peaceful yet sets you on edge. He continues, “Guardian of Dragons, Warrior and Keeper of the Realm. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Good day, your majesty. I’m afraid that I have brought you a thief. She tried to steal an egg. It was recovered unharmed and she has been cooperative.”

His thumb brushes along your bicep. Is he defending you?

The King laughs cruelly. “Did you catch me a fairy?”

Joel’s grip tightens on your arm. You told him this would happen. Neither of you respond to his question.

“How old are you, fairy?” He almost spits the word fairy at you.

“Six hundred and thirty seven,” you say, just above a whisper, your throat is so dry that it’s nearly impossible to talk.

“Is it the dungeon or the breeding camps for you?” He says to himself. The vile king's eyes trail up and down your body. You’re above the typical breeding age, but at least in a breeding camp you know what to expect.

His eyes meet Joels, “Does she have magic?”

“I’m not sure, Your Highness. I cuffed her as soon as I caught her.”

He leans over to one of his advisors, whispering to him with a cruel smile on his face, eyes locked on your body. You can feel him trying to burn through your clothes and if Joel wasn’t holding your arm you’d cross them over yourself.

The King sits back, linking his fingers and resting his hands on his large round belly. Fae families everywhere are starving and dying, meanwhile this “king” is living a life of glutton. His lips curl up as he says, “undress her, someone fetch the sorcerer.”

Joel moves to step in front of you when two guards grab him. You reach out for him, suddenly desperate for him not to leave you. More green bands clamp around your arm courtesy of the guards before they move their bony fingers to the clasps and zippers of your leathers. The zipper sounds grind at your teeth as they begin to expose you to The King. You wouldn’t be surprised if he commanded each of these guards to take a turn before you were sent to whatever abhorrent punishment The King and his advisors had just decided on.

Your jacket is ripped from your body before a dagger is taken to the front of your shirt. Slicing through it like a boat on water, the sound of the fabric tearing ringing in your ears. The cold air hits your now exposed breasts and the men of the audience look as if they’ve grown hungry.

Your eyes search desperately for Joel as the guards move to remove your pants, he is nowhere to be found. The leather of your belt sounds like a knife against a stone as they yank it from your body. They lift you slightly off the ground, hoisted up like some sort of sick trophy, to remove your knee high boots, quickly followed by your pants being tugged at the hem of the ankle.

You’re naked. Exposed. Just you and your wings.

A man with horn rimmed burgundy glasses and a sharp three piece suit of the same colour enters the room. The Sorcerer. He flicks a finger and a table with shackles at the four corners appears in front of you and the guards.

“On her stomach,” The Sorcerer says in a clinical voice, his shoes clicking on the cobblestone floor as he approaches you.

As the guards strap you to the table you finally catch the sign of Joel. He’s pinned to the ground by two guards, staring up at you with guilt and shame swirling through his warm brown eyes.

You push your lips into a thin line and shake your head at him. You knew this would happen, and now you refuse to break his eye contact. You are going to make him watch what he’s done to you, what you warned him would be done to you.

You hear footsteps behind you and the back of your eyes burn with tears. A cold and sterile hand grips around the bottom top of your wing, hand brushing against your bare ass, before tugging hard. You stare coldly at Joel as The Sorcerer stretches out your iridescent left wing. The pressure behind your eyes builds. You’re going to die here.

“Amazing,” The King chuffs, he’s standing beside your right shoulder, your face turned away from him. “Six hundred and thirty seven, you say.” He’s not asking, mostly talking to himself as The Sorcerer moves to open up the other wing, the joint of it still wrapped in Joel’s bandage.

The King’s sharp fingers move to remove the bandage and then he trails a clammy finger down your spinal cord and over the swell of one of your ass cheeks. A silent tear slips down your face as you watch Joel’s eyes turn dark.

The King scrapes his nails down the glittery, translucent proteins of your wings and bile rises in your throat. You feel the blood drain from your face as you continue staring down at Joel.

“Can she mate?” The King asks.

“Flip her.” The Sorcerer says, the guards move quickly, armour clanging against each other as they fiddle with the chains holding you down. They flip you roughly, slamming you onto you back and then the chains click and rattle again to hold you in place. You stare up at the wood vaulted ceiling. There’s easily over a hundred onlookers, and you can feel their eyes roaming over your naked body. You feel sick.

The Sorcerer approaches, placing his glasses on the table beside you. You allow your cheek to fall to the table away from him, making eye contact with Joel once again. His eyes are black with anger, and when The Sorcerer's cold hands press on your lower abdomen Joel’s face turns almost murderous.

Black mist snakes out from his palms, twisting and curling until it belts around your middle. At first it feels cold and tingly, almost like when you sit cross legged for too long and your foot falls asleep. Soon, the magic in it relaxes you, eyelids becoming heavy as you blink lazily at Joel.

Just when you feel safe, the mist gets heavy, and then it starts to squeeze, pushing itself painfully into your skin. The pressure makes it hard to breathe and you try to cry out, mouth falling open in a silent scream. It feels like air is trapped in your lungs, it’s crushing you. Panic crosses your face as you stare at Joel. The world goes dark around you, Joel fading into the distance. You hear a sharp, cruel laugh before all your senses darken.

Joel

My whole life I’ve been led to believe that Fae are paranoid and lazy. They steal for their own enjoyment and think the world is out to get them. Since meeting you, I’ve realized how very wrong I have been. And now you’re laying on a table, completely naked, being poked and prodded at for The King's own sick enjoyment. A king that I was led to believe was good and kind.

“She may be able to be bred,” The Sorcerer says, “but she’s old, so it might not take.”

The King thinks for a while, his beady little eyes darting around her body. My palms tingle with the sudden urge to slam my beloved axe right across his face.

“Take her wings.” He says flatly before a cruel glint crosses his face, “but wake her up first, I want to hear her screams and watch the life leave her eyes as she dies from the blood loss.”

“Wait,” I call from the ground, panic swirling in my gut.

The King looks down at me as if I’m mud on his boots. He flicks a hand upwards at the guards holding me and they lift me roughly.

“I’d like to take her as my slave.”

The king scoffs. “You what? Do you know how rare wings and magic Fae are?”

“I’ll give you three of Remmer’s eggs.”

The entire room goes quiet. For the past three hundred years, only dragon trainers have owned dragons. If they’re needed for war we, as Warriors and Keepers of The Realm, lead them. Kings are often tempted by the fiercest of dragons and Rem scares even the bravest of creatures, if only they knew she liked to play with butterflies in her spare time and used to be afraid of her own fire.

The king contemplates for a second, waving a hand again signaling for the guards to let me go. “I want eight.” He states.

“I have three, I can bring you two more the next time they breed.” I focus on keeping my facial expression flat.

The King stares me down, almost as if to see if I’ll flinch or back down. He makes his way back to his throne, hands linked behind his back as he saunters up the stairs. If we were alone I would easily kill that man with the lightest swing of my axe.

After settling down in his plush royal blue throne he says, “Deal.”

I step towards you, still wrapped in that inky black mist, face contorted with pain and fear.

“No so fast,” The King says, “it’s a deal, but I keep her wings until I have all the eggs.”

The Sorcerer snaps his fingers and the mist moves to blanket your entire body, melting the chains off of your milky white skin. He jerks his chin towards the sky and your limp body levitates off the table. You spin like meat above fire, and I suppose that that’s exactly how you’ve been seen your entire life, and I brought you to the fucking fire.

The mist pulls itself together into a sharp line and slices down your back. I want to tear my eyes away at the carnage but I did this. I did this to you and I deserve to feel guilty about all of this for the rest of my life.

Thick red blood coats your back before the mist travels over you again and cauterizes your wing joints. Two glowing blue scars is all that’s left. The black mist encases your wings, sets them high above The King's throne like a hunting trophy.

Your body falls back down to the table and I walk over to you, keeping my face set in a hard line, not daring to give away my true feelings to The King.

===================================

Taglist:

@corazondebeskar @hiddenbabynyc @rainstorms-library @smutsmutslut @sullyrocky44 @keylimebeag @pimosworld @casa-boiardi @pedritoferg @paleidiot @lorilane33 @pansexual-potatoes @baar-ur @jessthebaker @jasminedragoon @koshkaj-blog @pedroswife69 @strawberri-blonde @none-of-this-makes-any-sense @iloveenya

115 notes · View notes