Batman Oneshots/Imagines

Mistress (Scarecrow/Jonathan Crane x Reader)

  She shakes with fear, crying and yelling, hoping someone would hear. Her body is tense while she tries to shield herself like a fence. Jonathan knows. He knows for sure. Her fear, her problems. But he isn't the one tormenting her. No, not even Scarecrow. It is (Y/N), his lover, his partner in crime.

  (Y/N) grew up in a terrible family. She was scared of everything, even toys. The toys she had were never nice, you know, they were broken and old and always gave off a scary feeling. Luckily, she had left when she had finished highschool, using her saved money to buy an apartment and even get into college. She didn't realise she had that much money but decided not to worry about it.

  Her first day was a lot like her last in highschool. Barley talking to anyone, not even making eye contact. She was scared. She was quiet. She was tired. Her nightmares always kept her up all night and she didn't even know how she could finished college if it continued.

  But by the time she finished college, she had many friends and no fears. It wasn't because she suddenly felt social and made friends. No, her first friend - her first real friend, had helped. He was as fearful as she but overcame it. Jonathan Crane had an obsession with fear. After many home experiments, (Y/N) had been free of fears.

  Jonathan had become a professor, but soon got fired for firing a gun as an experiment. Then he became something. Something horrible but beautiful in (Y/N)'s eyes. He became Scarecrow. Jonathan always had Scarecrow around, like he had multiple personalities.

  (Y/N) thought she had that too, but no, it was just her crazy, twisted, mind that made her think the way she did. When she was rid of fears, she honestly felt like she could do anything. She could jump off a building if she wanted to, but then it would result in death. She wasn't afraid, she just didn't want to die. Not yet, anyway.

  The woman's name is Amara Queen; not from Gotham of course. She was related to Oliver Queen, Jonathan and (Y/N) know this. But they don't know how close they are. Maybe Oliver doesn't know she exists.

  "Please. . .stop. I can't. . .I'm going to die," Amara says to (Y/N). She smiles. She couldn't care less, really. To her, this was another experiment with fear toxin, to make the fears go away.

  "No, no, no. You aren't going to die. I didn't give you enough to even pass out," she gives a quick glance to Jonathan, who is sitting with his hands under his chin, he is watching very intensively.

  "Why are you doing this?"

  "Isn't it obvious? To rid you of fears, isn't that what you want? Pyrophobia, arachnophobia, atychiphobia, you have a lot Ms. Queen."

  Once again, she starts screaming, seeing images of the things she fears the most and it terrifies her. She doesn't want to see anything but she's too afraid to close her eyes and see darkness;  achluophobia.

  (Y/N) doesn't know if Jonathan wanted her dead, but he usually doesn't kill his victims unless he has to. She gives another quick glace at the man she knew she loved and smiled when he caught her. Amara's too busy screaming her lungs out to see anything, and she shakes her head thinking everything is going to go away.

  Shes wrong. She's so wrong.

  Does she honestly think she'll be unafraid if she never faces them?

  Truly, I don't know if she can even take a normal breath, so, how can she face her fears if she's hallucinating them?

  That's correct, you should kill her.

  Stop telling me to do that, psycho.

  I am, but that makes you one too. Haven't you realized that already?

  While (Y/N) argues with the voice in her head Jonathan finally takes control, injecting more fear toxin into the mid-twenties woman only for her to scream more. She shakes violently but (Y/N) doesn't notice a thing; laughing with or to herself then whispering quickly. Jonathan knows what she's going through, a type of schizophrenia. Only she doesn't have two, or multiple, personalities, she only think she does. She isn't the one to be fully motivated to go jogging but then be motivated to bring death.

  No, but she can if she wanted to.

  When (Y/N) finally comes back to reality, Amara is limp and not moving. Her eyes quickly move to Jonathan's and she gives a confused look.

  "I didn't kill her. What, do you think I'm crazy?" Jonathan squints at (Y/N) behind his lens then smirks immediately after asking.

  "I–"

  "Don't answer that. You'll get the same answer back if you do," he quickly shakes his head then walks over to (Y/N).

  "She looks dead, Jonathan," she confronts.

  "Trust me, she's still breathing. She's also very lucky. You and I both know what we could have done instead," Jonathan grabs (Y/N)'s hand and grips it tightly before bringing her out of their torture room. It wasn't really torture, more like interrogation.

  She gives one last look at Amara before leaving the room and her eyes widen in shock. A small pool of blood is slowly forming around the chair she is limply seated on.

  "You liar! She's dead," (Y/N)'s eyebrows furrow closer as if she's actually mad.

  "Oh, please. As if you're actually upset about me killing someone," he rolls his eyes at her childish pose; arms crossed with a small pout. To Jonathan, it was quite cute - anything done by her was cute.

  "Yea– Actually, no."

  ". . .And there's a reason why I call you my mistress," Jonathan's tall and thin frame towers over his girlfriend as she has to look up to meet his eyes. Jonathan was quite tall for her, she barely went above his chin.

  (Y/N) smiled for a quick second then gave a quick hug to Jonathan. He still wasn't acquainted with the fact that (Y/N) liked to cuddle and hug a lot. He barely touched a girls's hand before he met (Y/N). So, he still felt awkward from the sudden hugs or pecks on the lips. Nevertheless, he liked them and would get used to them.

  Because he was his Mistress. His Mistress of Fear.