#mothh500

Even for a guy who thinks so highly of himself, it took some time for him to muster up the courage to tell you about his feelings for you.

You two worked well together in his office, after all. And surely, you put an effort into your appearance all for him. In fact, there were a lot of things you did that Jonathan was certain you intended as a secret message.

Bringing him coffee when you got one for yourself? Telling him it was going to rain? Saying “take care” whenever you’d leave work? Definite signs. God, you were just too sweet for your own good.

So, who could blame him when he asked you to come into his office for a little chat one day?

And really, he made an effort. He got your favorite treat from your favorite bakery in Downtown Gotham, made sure to keep his unnerving eye contact to a minimum.

For a moment, you thought he’d offer you a raise. And then he dropped the bombshell on you. Told you about his feelings as if it had been the most obvious thing in the world

But then your smile suddenly faltered. Shrunk. Vanished. Until your expression turned almost pained.

“Listen,” you started, and he immediately regretted ever saying anything.

Suddenly, he felt like an outcasted teen again. Shunned and rejected, looked at with pity and disgust. He felt small again.

And while Jonathan told you he accepted your feelings, or lack thereof –

The Scarecrow certainly didn’t.

In his eyes, you made a mistake. But mistakes make room for growth and improvement. Now, THAT’S something he could work with! And hey, sometimes people just need a second chance.

In a way, it was a good thing that you were avoiding him for a few days, fleeing from the break room whenever he’d come along. It gave him time to think rationally. To swallow down the bitter feeling of ire and sour tang of hurt. And it gave him time to plan.

Your car broke down out of nowhere, and even though Jonathan offered to drive you, you declined. The thought of sitting in a car with him was causing a horrendous ache in your guts, so you’d rather bite the bullet and take the train.

Too bad that you didn’t even get to the station that night.

As you rounded a corner, your world suddenly went dark. And when you came to again — accompanied by a thumping headache — you found yourself in the clutches of the Scarecrow.

Oh, you were such a good sport about it all!

Crying whenever he wanted you to, screaming whenever he’d get out his toxins to spook you just right! Truly, you were a dream hostage.

He adored how you’d squirm and beg when he dragged his tongue up your throat, savoring the exquisite taste of your tears and blood before he’d dive in to kiss and nip at your flesh.

Sometimes, he’d start of gentle, patiently exploring your body together with you. But as soon as you’d get nervous, the urge to take and take would fester inside him. Then, he wants to see more, to feel more. To be demanding and greedy.

Every once in a while, he’d whisper “I’m sorry. I know this hurts.” into your heated flesh while he indulged himself on everything that you were and had to offer, but he knew it was just to placate you in the moment. After all, you were putting on a show for him, right?

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” you spat as soon as you were released from the interior of Raymond’s car which had been your metal prison for the past 45 minutes.

45 agonizingly slow minutes during which he didn’t say a single word to you. No explanations as to why he suddenly showed up to pick a fight and arrest you, no apology for slamming you onto the hood of his First Gen Dodge Challenger in front of the people you were supposed to blend in with. You never expected much from him to begin with, but this had been a new low.

You were supposed to be coworkers, for fuck’s sake.

Now, he had parked both of you in the middle of nowhere, almost making you think that he did it so you could finally curse at him at full volume.

“I’m gonna kill you, Leon, I swear –”

“You? Kill me? That's funny.”

His first sentence in almost an hour, and you were already fuming. Maybe you really were going to do it. Your grumbling was cut short when he got out of the car and stepped around to the back seat to pull you along with him. Back to the hood it was, this time face up so you could properly glare at him.

“You’re off the case,” he said, staring down at you with a storm raging behind his eyes. There was a tension in his shoulders, one that he usually lacked. Even in stressful situations, he usually had everything under strict control, including himself. But right now, his jaw was tight. You, on the other hand, were an open book compared to him.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” you hissed. “I just gained their trust! A few more weeks and they’d tell me the location of the stolen time capsules!”

A scoff was your only reply, prompting you to aim a kick at Raymond’s shoulder. Which, to your surprise, he seemed to have been anticipating. His fingers closed around your ankle, hiking your leg up along with it while he planted his other hand on the hood of the car — effectively caging you in.

Suddenly, he was close. So close that you could catch a whiff of his delicious cologne, and he only leaned in further.

“You won’t be going back to those thieves,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your hairline which caused an exquisite shiver to run down the length of your spine. “You’re not tough enough to be undercover for this long.”

You bristled, tongue swiping over your teeth as you met his challenge head-on.

“Then take off the handcuffs and I’ll show you just how feisty I really am.”

Raymond’s brow twitched upwards and his grip tightened around your ankle. He almost took the bait. Almost let himself be drawn in and scorched whole by the fire in your eyes. But this was his game and you’d play by his rules. At least for now.

“I don’t think I will.”

His free hand wandered over to your waist, pulling you up a little higher to let you rest more comfortably on the car. Well, as comfortable as you could be with your hands linked together behind your back.

Looming over you, his touch trailed up your stomach and came to rest on your cheek, palm cupping your burning skin.

“In fact, I think this is for your own good,” he said, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip as his gaze met yours again. “Trust me, I’ve seen enough of your type. Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed until they show up with a bullet between their pretty eyes.”

The proximity between your bodies felt electric, stealing the breath from your lungs as you tried to concentrate on his words and not the feeling of him nudging his hips against yours ever so slightly.

“You haven’t seen all of me yet,” you replied, and his eyes narrowed as his lips pulled up into a smile.

“Fair point.”

Raymond leaned back, flicking his fingers against the zipper of your jacket before he slowly pulled it down. Letting the garment fall open, he trailed his fingertips down your sternum, and even though there was a layer of fabric separating skin from skin, you could feel the sparks he left behind on your flesh. Sparks that traveled lower along with his hand until they settled in the pit of your body like burning coals.

As he grasped the hem of your shirt, he paused to look back up at your face, and you were confused for a moment before it clicked. He was asking for permission. You didn’t need to think much about it.

Parting your legs a little more, you silently allowed him to go further. And he did.

Raymond was on you in the next second, capturing your lips in a heated, feverish kiss that bordered on furious. Something deeper was bothering him, and he expressed it through his tongue and teeth, mapping out your mouth and luring sweet little sighs and moans from your throat. He kissed you like he only had minutes left on his clock, like he was trying to savor every second of your lush body beneath his own.

Pulling back only to yank up your shirt, Ray cursed under his breath at the sight of your pretty tits almost spilling out of the bra you wore. It was strange to see him lose his composure like that, especially since said piece was nothing to write home about. You opted for comfort and functionality during your time undercover, so a ratty sports bra had to do. The glint in his eyes and the way he white-knuckled the fabric as he pulled it up said enough about his level of enthusiasm, however.

As soon as your boobs were free, Raymond bent over you to lick and nip at your soft skin while his hands eagerly tugged off your sweatpants to finally get to your pussy. Groaning in approval at the wetness between your thighs, he trailed his fingers up your slit, slicking them up before he sank two of them into you.

Your moan trailed off into a squeak as he immediately set a quick pace, aiming to prep you as quickly as possible to grant both of you the relief you so desperately needed. You arched beneath him, cuffed hands curling into fists in search of something to hold on to while he worked his fingers in and out of your dripping core.

Fuck, you could hear how much you needed him, and he could too, visibly reveling in the effect he had on you. Raymond’s brows were furrowed, his pupils blown out as he stared down at you, watching every twitch in your expression with a keen laser focus to find all of your weak points.

And he was a fast learner.

A gasp hitched in your throat as his fingers scoped out that deliciously sweet spot that had your face twisting with pleasure.

“Right there?” he scoffed against your skin, pulling out of your pussy.

Your attempted protest was cut short when he pressed his wet fingers down on your tongue, making you taste yourself as he unzipped his pants to free his already leaking cock. How he could keep the tremble out of his voice while in this state was beyond you.

Feeling testy and impatient, you lightly bit down on his fingers, earning yourself a swift spank to your cunt. Your muffled moan vibrated against his fingers in your mouth, and he used his grip on your head to keep you still.

“Behave,” he groaned, already grinding his length against you to lube himself up. “Behave and look at me.”

The ache melted away with every inch of his cock that he shoved into your cunt, and the growl that slipped past his clenched teeth ran across your heated skin like silk. Slipping his fingers free from between your lips, Raymond wrapped his hand around your throat instead, feeling the thump of your pulse against his palm as your eyes met his again.

Once he bottomed out inside of you, the two of you shared a sigh of relief, and Raymond’s other hand settled on your hip to pull you closer against him. It was already hard to concentrate on your end. Not only was this man pretty and way too smug, his dick was perfect as well.

“Not so feisty now, are you?” His chuckle made you frown, and you grit your teeth, wrapping your leg around his hip to kick the back of his knee with the heel of your foot. Stumbling forward, he caught himself on top of you, his cock still buried inside of you.

“Fuck you,” you spat, delighted by the way his nostrils flared and his fingers twitched around your neck.

“Gladly.”

The first thrust knocked the air out of your lungs. Immediately, you could tell that you bit off way more than you could chew. Raymond’s pace was relentless, fueled by the needy moans and mindless babble he fucked out of you every time he slammed his cock back into your weeping cunt. His hips collided with yours again and again, sending the impact through your entire body as his fingers sank into the plush flesh of your hip.

His hand around your neck also didn’t relent, occasionally tightening its grip to reduce the flow of blood to your brain. You felt like you were floating, helplessly bouncing under him as he fucked into you.

“That’s it, huh? Look at you,” he growled low in his throat, tipping his head back as his eyes fell shut. “You’re helpless like this. Already fucked stupid and we barely even started—”

Even with heavy, half-lidded eyes, you could see the grimace that suddenly settled on his face, and his thrusts became even rougher. He was absolutely livid all of a sudden, and you were pretty sure it wasn’t your fault this time.

“Raymond— Wait, fuck— Ray!” you gasped, trying to get your braincells to cooperate with one another. A tearless sob shot out from between your lips as he picked up your legs to fold them towards your chest instead, and your mind blanked for a few delicious seconds as he hit even deeper.

“Helpless. A target. A bleeding-hearted rookie,” he continued, his frown deepening. “They’ll eat you alive and spit you back out once they’re done with you.”

His choking grip tightened, and you let out a breathless squeal as the tension in your core wound tighter and tighter and—

His hips suddenly stilled against yours as he released your throat, and you whined at the loss off the exquisite friction that almost dragged you over the edge just seconds ago. About to complain, you opened your mouth, only for the words to die on your tongue when you saw Raymond’s expression. Blown out pupils, messy hair, but his eyes were softer than anything you’ve ever seen from him. For the first time, the high and mighty Raymond Leon looked truly hapless.

“I want you off the streets. Immediately.”

His voice was breathy, labored from fucking you and the maelstrom of emotions clashing within him.

You could only blink up at him, confused and a little suspicious at his sudden switch. Raymond sighed, lowering himself to gently press his forehead against yours. As you both stayed quiet and started to catch your breath again, he traced gentle circles into your hip with his thumb. After a heavy moment of silence, he attempted to speak up.

“It’s too dangerous. What if you –“ He swallowed hard, cutting himself off and abandoning this first attempt.

“What if I..?” you softly urged, afraid that speaking too loudly might’ve shattered this fragile bubble of vulnerability that he was allowing himself to exist in.

“I can’t lose you.”

“Lose me?”

He sighed, turning his head away to stare off into the distance. Alright, keep your secrets, then.

But then, he forced himself to elaborate.

“You’re the only one who can keep up with me,” he admitted, still refusing to look at you. “You’re the only one who’s not just a badge or a file on my desk.”

Oh. Ohh. That certainly explained it.

“Ray,” you started, silently cursing the fact that your hands were still cuffed because you wanted to reach out to him, to touch him and pull him out of his worries. “You’re not going to lose me. I know what I’m doing.”

“You might. But the others don’t.”

He groaned and the muscles in his jaw tensed as he clenched his teeth.

“You might get into a shootout or a car crash because one of those criminals,” he huffed, his grip tightening on your hip once more. “Or the group you’re scoping out suddenly gets into trouble with another. There are too many risks and very few rewards. We’re only looking for a few missing years, after all.”

“Ray,” you said, but he was still ranting about it. “Hey, Raymond.”

Still nothing. Change of strategy.

Lifting your hips, you began to move against him, fucking yourself on his cock in an effort to coax him closer again. And it worked. Like a magnet, he was drawn to you, meeting your eyes once more and softening at the sight of you. With a sigh, he leaned over you, wrapping his arms around your body to hold you close and keep the pressure off your hands.

“Trust me,” you breathed against his lips. “Please, trust me, Ray.”

“I do,” he promised, stealing another kiss from you that lit your insides on fire. He was softer this time, less frantic and hurried as he held you with a reverence you’ve never seen from him before. This was him beneath the coat and badge. The Raymond beneath the Timekeeper title.

With his lips still moving against yours, his hips picked up in rhythm again, working together with you to get you back up to the edge you craved. His tongue licked against yours, exploring playfully until the lack of oxygen caused you to flutter and clench around him, and he pulled back to kiss and bite up your throat.

“There you go. Take what you need,” he murmured into your ear, pressing one of his hands between both your bodies to draw circles around your clit. The noise that you made in response had him gritting his teeth in an attempt to reign himself in.

“Ray,” you gasped, and he nodded in response, feeling it to. How beautifully you shuddered, how your thighs around his hips urged him to go faster, harder.

“Let go. I’ve got you.”

And those were the magic words. With another press of his thumb against your clit, you came undone for him, unraveling under the warm wave of a blissful climax. Raymond cursed and groaned under his breath, fucking you through your peak until he felt [] He pulled out of you, frantically thrusting into his fist until he spilled his cum between your thighs and over the sleek black paintjob of his vehicle. Oh, well.

Panting, he released your legs, to dig a set of keys out of the pocket of his coat, and he helped you to sit up so he could finally free you again. With a careless motion, he tossed the cuffs aside and pulled you close, kissing your hairline before he took your hands in his.

For a blissful moment, neither of you spoke. Even though he didn’t outright say anything about the fundamental shift in the dynamic between you, his actions and the look in his eyes were proof enough.

“I’ll get you a nice desk job at the agency,” he murmured, gently massaging your wrists to get the circulation back.

“Ray—" you groaned, definitely not excited at the thought of sitting around all day, but as you turned your head away, he gently nudged your chin to bring your gaze back to his face.

“And a nice raise.”

“… I’m listening.”

God, he’s just like an injured stray cat

Expect him to try and avoid you at first, even if you live together.

And he’s surprisingly sneaky, even with a cracked rib and a limp in his step

Growing up as little bullied Jon Crane meant that he had to learn how to take care of himself FAST, and sadly, he got used to patching up wounds all by himself and toughing out the pain

Turns out his practice at sewing his masks comes in handy when he’s sewing up himself

An injured Jonathan will come home late on purpose, trying to make sure you’re asleep so you can’t fuss over him

It never works

Whenever you get the slightest suspicions that he’s out there, getting his ass handed to him, you stay up for him until he gets back

He’ll complain about it (ofc he does)

But while he’s still trying to undress and drag himself into bed, you’re already pulling him into the bathroom. His attempts to dissuade you, obviously, but it’s not working. And when he finally snaps and your grip on him falters, he feels even worse.

“I’m sorry, I’m just—I’m just really tired.” “Tired or not, we’ll need to get you fixed up…”

His injuries always look worse in the light, and he hates the brief flicker of pity in your eyes when you look at him, but he knows it’s not because you find him pathetic.

He’ll grumble and complain while you check him out, trying to play it off like you’re the crazy one for insisting to take care of him for once.

Especially at the beginning of your relationship, he’s not used to physical affection or tender touches. He’s not even used to a kind word, so he’ll be a little overwhelmed. Not that he’d tell you, of course.

But he’ll warm up, and you’ll notice. His shoulders relax, he’ll lean into your touch, and his inner monolog of beating himself up stops for a moment.

Where he once frowned and squirmed away, he now sighs contentedly as you pepper his skin with kisses, making sure to be gentle with his scrapes and bruises.

The neck kisses are his secret favorites.

For a man who seems so grand and cocky when he’s in his element, he sometimes gets scared that you’ll see in him the little boy he used to be. A victim of cruelty who couldn’t defend himself. Like he still sees himself sometimes.

It’s a little tricky to balance the urge to reassure him and the necessity to give him his space, but if he allows you to hold him afterwards, you know you’ve got the hang of it.

It’s one of those quiet moments, then. Moments when he’s exhausted and hurt, and you’re both waiting for the pain meds to properly kick in. Moments when he sinks into your arms and willingly lets himself be the little spoon.

And you know that even before he says it, he’s thankful to have you by his side.

You lost count. Lost count of the hours, the tears, the wasted attempts to plead and beg your way out of this. Knowing Crane, this was to be expected. Once he set his mind to something, he made sure to see it through. With every dreadful, pain inflicting caress, he made sure to see it through.

“Attachment is a dreadful thing, isn’t it.” A statement, not a question. He didn’t expect you to answer, anyway. “So, you can imagine how displeased I am with this entire situation.”

The Scarecrow heaved out a raspy sigh as he stopped his pacing, and he returned to the examination table to once again check the restraints around your wrists. Your eye twitched as his thumb rubbed over the raw skin, irritating the results of your struggles. You weren’t sure what to say. Apologies, bargaining and other nonsense obviously hadn’t worked in the slightest. And at this point, your tongue felt too heavy, and your brain was fuzzed over by the numerous relaxants he had pumped into your bloodstream.

Crane leaned over you, and his image blurred and cleared in tandem with the pulse pounding in your throat.

“I suppose I am to blame as well. I shouldn’t have expected loyalty in Gotham. Not even from you.”

Stepping around to stand over your head, he brushed a sweaty strand of hair out of your face. The touch was almost tender.

Almost.

If it weren’t for the blood he spread over your skin in the process.

Your blood.

“Of all people,” he hummed, leaning down to get a better look at your face. “Ratting me out. Running like frightened vermin to run your mouth to the first fool who’d listen.”

His eyes narrowed, and a feeling of shame joined the nausea in your stomach.

“Was this your worst-case scenario if things went wrong like they did? Tell me, did you think I would kill you and call it a day?”

Your lips parted, but the words died on your tongue.

“Your work is brilliant. But you are so frustratingly stupid,” he hissed, moving next to your side again, and reaching for the scalpel. A familiar acquaintance at this point. One that has been a trusted instrument for the past hours.

You could always tell the moment that it cut. Even with a paper cut, the fleeting moment of cold pain was a telltale sign that something was split. Skin and flesh and fat. Tissue separated, layers revealed.

With a steady hand, Crane guided the blade from your sternum up to your collarbone. Enough for skin to open up, enough for your breath to hitch as the warm blood ran over your cold flesh and pooled in the hollow of your throat. Fortunately, not enough to eviscerate you like a frog on the dissecting table. Just right to hurt and mangle and teach.

“You know why I couldn’t be lenient. This has to be a learning moment,” he murmured, already bending over to lap the blood off your skin while his spindly hands spread over your body. His breath quickened with every drag of his tongue over the wound, and you could feel the tremble in his fingers as they dug into your plush frame.

Finally, he straightened up again, reigning himself in with much difficulty. With his teeth and mouth stained sanguine, he undid your leather restraints, freeing you from the metal table before he guided you into a sitting position. The world spun for a moment as Crane put your arm around his shoulders to steady you.

But the drop in your stomach wasn’t just from disorientation.

Your body felt lighter. Incomplete.

“Don’t fret. You’re still useful, after all. But you won’t need your legs to work, will you?”

The dim lights of Capa‘s bedroom bathed your entwined hands in a faint blue hue as your fingertips traced gentle patterns over his palm. Exploring his fingerprints, the little cuts and scrapes from tinkering, and the few fingers where he chewed at his nails in a subconscious manifestation of his seemingly everlasting stress.

But tonight, he wasn’t stressed. No. Tonight, his body pressed against yours, holding you close against his warm frame under the sheets. Tonight, he breathed in the scent of your skin; of your hair. And he was at peace.

Every once in a while, his fingers would brush back against yours, returning the tender little touches while his free arm remained anchored around your waist. Worrying that his other arm might be falling asleep where it was resting under your head, you shifted in an attempt to make him feel more comfortable. And for a moment, it seemed to help.

Until you accidentally brushed your feet against his shins, causing him to grumble and shiver.

“Do you mind?” he murmured into your hair, tightening his free arm around your waist, wanting you closer despite your cold toes.

Rolling your eyes, you huffed out a quiet chuckle and whispered back to him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to.”

A skeptical hum was your only answer for a moment, and you suspected he dozed off. Which, of course, wouldn’t do at all. Grinning to yourself, your feet brushed against his legs again, and you got the reaction you wanted when Robert now wrapped both arms around you.

One of his thighs slotted between yours, capturing you in his embrace to keep you from wriggling.

“I’m serious…” he grumbled. “You’re like a human icicle. Of all the people I could share a bed with.”

“And a life,” you chimed in. Your smile was smug, but fortunately, it was too dark for him to see.

“And a life…”

A peaceful silence settled over the two of you, only occasionally broken by a yawn or the rustling of the sheets. Eventually, Capa spoke up again. There was a tone in his voice that you didn’t get to hear often. Something vulnerable and soft. As a man of science, his rational mind was usually the driving force in his words and actions. But with patience and lots of persistent loving, you managed to crack his shell wide open, revealing his sweet, yearning heart. The heart of a man who used to hide behind books and equations to hide how head over heels he truly was for you.

“I used to think I could do everything by myself,” he whispered, and you could hear the smile in his sentence. “But I can’t. And I’m so glad that I can’t.”

A sugary, sticky warmth ran through your body, spreading like thick molasses through your veins and causing your fingertips to tingle and your smile to widen.

“You’re the smartest person I know, Rob. I’m sure you don’t really need —“

He already knew what you were going to say, so he cut you off before you could finish, emphasizing his words with a squeeze of your waist.

“Oh, quiet. I do need you. I wouldn't be here if I didn't.”

Chuckling, he moved his body to hover over yours. The look in his eyes immediately caused your pulse to pick up.

“Even though it seems like I’ll have to use some unorthodox methods to warm you up.”

To the bar!

FIRST:

Pick a character from this list

THEN:

Choose a base! (pick 1 option)

Vodka – drabble/short fic

Gin – headcanons

Tequila - moodboard

Rum – mini playlist

Pick a liqueur! (pick 1 option)

Melon Liqueur - Smut

Coffee Liqueur – dead dove/darkfic

Orange Liqueur - fluff

Amaretto - hurt/comfort emotional

Crème de Cacao – hurt/comfort physical

Irish Cream - angst

Pick your mixers! (pick up to 2 options)

Lime Juice – neck kisses

Orange Juice – only one bed

Cranberry Juice – confessing feelings

Grapefruit Juice - cuddles

Pineapple Juice – getting revenge

Tomato Juice - blood play

Bitters – biting/marking kink

Simple Syrup – established relationship/domestic

Ginger Ale - cuddling

Sour Mix – rough sex

Tea – at a party

Grenadine – in public

Tabasco Sauce – hate/angry sex

Cream – oral

Coffee - pet play

Club Soda - sitting in their lap

Tonic Water - CNC

Cola - dumbification

Sprite - humiliation

Pick a garnish! (pick 1 option)

Lemon Slice – ❛ oh great, it's you again. ❜

Lime Wedge – ❛ I’m sorry. I know it hurts. ❜

Orange Slice – ❛ i'll make us feel good. you'll love this. ❜

Maraschino Cherries - ❛ begging is a good look for you. ❜

Olives – ❛  i had a lot of dreams about you recently.  ❜

Cocktail Onions – ❛ you? kill me? that's funny. ❜

Mint – ❛ stop teasing and just put it in already. ❜

Granulated Sugar – ❛ let me stay like this in you for a little bit. ❜

Cinnamon – ❛ i do need you. i wouldn't be here if i didn't.  ❜

Grated Nutmeg – ❛ that’s it, use your tongue. ❜

Celery – ❛ if i ask for your help are you gonna make a big deal out of it? ❜