Hi :D
Could we possibly get headcanons for Jonathan Crane x reader where the reader is a livestock farmer and really strong? I feel like I can never find fics for strong females and I love Crane sm
You don't have to if you don't want to tho!!
Thank youuu!
A/N: Ok!!! Also sorry I've been so busy and so late w/ my replies!
How You Met: Jonathan was laying low after a botched Gotham scheme, needing a remote place far from Batman’s surveillance and the city’s chaos. Your large livestock farm—isolated, sprawling fields, sturdy barns, and no nosy neighbors—looked perfect. He showed up one rainy night claiming to be a disgraced academic needing “peace and quiet for research.” You let him stay in the old bunkhouse because he looked half-starved and strangely non-threatening… until you noticed the weird chemical equipment he tried to hide. Instead of kicking him out, you just crossed your arms (biceps flexing from years of hauling feed sacks and stubborn cattle) and told him, “If you cause trouble, I’ll drag you off my property myself.” He found your complete lack of fear… fascinating.
The Strength Kink is Real: Jonathan is not a physically imposing man. He’s tall and lanky, relying on intellect and toxins. Watching you effortlessly hoist 50kg hay bales, wrestle a 600kg bull into a chute, or carry two full feed buckets in one hand does something to him. He’ll stand at the fence line pretending to read while actually staring, analyzing how such raw physical power exists in someone so… calm. He once saw you lift an entire broken gate and rehang it solo. That night he was unusually quiet and attentive, almost shy. “The human body is capable of remarkable things when conditioned by necessity,” he’d murmur, but his eyes said he was thinking far less clinical thoughts.
Farm Life Integration: He’s useless with the animals at first. The cows don’t like his scent (probably the residual fear toxin), and the chickens scatter when he walks by. You tease him mercilessly while he awkwardly tries to help. Over time he learns—mostly to stay on your good side. He becomes surprisingly good at record-keeping for breeding lines and medication schedules because “organization is the foundation of control.” You handle the heavy labor; he handles the books and any “pests” (rival farmers or debt collectors suddenly develop crippling phobias and leave you alone).
Fear Toxin & The Farm: Jonathan is protective in his own twisted way. Anyone who tries to harass you or lowball you at market suddenly experiences vivid nightmares about being trampled by stampeding livestock. He insists it’s “merely an experiment.” You’ve built up a surprising tolerance after accidental low-level exposures—nothing scares you easily anymore. One time a particularly aggressive boar got loose and charged him; you tackled it mid-stride and pinned it until help arrived. Jonathan was both mortified and incredibly turned on by the casual display of dominance.
Domestic Moments: Evenings on the porch after chores, you in your worn work boots with dirt on your jeans, him in his threadbare sweater sipping coffee you made. He reads psychology journals aloud while you sharpen tools or mend tack. He loves when you come in smelling like hay, sweat, and animals—it’s earthy and real, the opposite of Gotham’s sterile fear. Sometimes he’ll rest his head against your shoulder (or thigh if you’re sitting) after a long day, murmuring about how your steady heartbeat is the only thing that consistently calms the chaos in his mind.
Villainous Support: You become his safe haven. When Batman gets too close, he retreats to the farm. You’ve hidden him in the hayloft more than once, standing guard with a pitchfork like a rural Valkyrie. He finds your strength both reassuring and humbling. You don’t need his toxin to intimidate people—you just exist as a very strong, very no-nonsense farmer who loves her animals and her weird, fear-obsessed boyfriend.
Jealousy & Possessiveness: Jonathan gets quietly jealous of the way you handle the livestock with such confident physicality. He knows it’s irrational, but seeing you wrestle and calm a massive animal makes him want to remind you that he is the one who can make the whole world scream with a single breath. You usually shut that down by picking him up (yes, fully lifting the grown man, despite him being a bit taller than you... But for my tall girlies you can ignore this.) and kissing him until he forgets his insecurities.
Long-Term: The farm becomes his true lair, hidden in plain sight. Gotham thinks Scarecrow vanished. In reality, he’s living with a livestock farmer who can bench-press him, loves her animals more than most people, and looks at his madness and says, “That’s fine, just don’t scare the cows.” He’s never been more content… or more dangerous, because now he has something real to protect.
jonathan crane attempting to comfort you
tw: pretty much just awkward fluff, talks about emotions.
pairings: boyfriend!jonathan crane x lamb!reader.
author's note: this was a request!
You were curled up on the couch, a fuzzy blanket wrapped around you. You hugged your knees close to your chest as tears streamed down your cheeks. A long, shaky sigh escaped past your lips as you buried your head in your knees.
The door to the apartment clicked shut softly, followed by the sound of the door locking. You hadn't even herd Jonathan come home from work due to your current state. He took off his coat, hanging it up on the rack by the door before he unbuttoned his blazer and made his way into the living room.
"I'm home." He announced, his voice laced with exhaustion as he started to loosen his tie. "The night air is exceptionally chilly tonight and-"
He paused, stopping dead in his tracks when his eyes landed to your form on the couch. The soft sound of your sobs hit his ears and it was like his mind glitched. His eyes widened behind the rims of his glasses as he took you in, scanning you like he was trying to analyze an anomaly.
A wave of panic crashed over him as he just stood there uselessly. He knew the biological reason behind tears, that it was a form of emotional release. Except knowing that information did absolutely nothing to help him figure out what he was supposed to do right now.
"You are displaying signs of acute distress." He stated, his voice dropping an octave. "Are you injured? Has someone threatened you? Give me a name, love. I can make them pay for harming you."
You shook your head as you looked up before letting out a shaky exhale, trying your best to calm down but failing as more tears streamed down your cheeks. You wiped at your tears as Jonathan reached up, pinching the bridge of his nose as he slightly began to pace.
He took out a handkerchief from the breast pocket of his blazer. He stepped closer, stopping when he was standing in front of you as he held out the cloth to you. "Here," he murmured as you took the handkerchief from him. "Use this. Stop... leaking."
He slowly sank down on the couch beside you as you used the cloth to wipe at your tears. "Jonathan, I love you so much, but you are really bad at this." You sniffled as a tiny smile tilted your lips.
A small chuckle tumbled from his lips as he gently wrapped his hand around yours. "I suppose I am. I'm not good with... feelings." He said with a sigh as he lightly squeezed your hand. "I am trying, love. I want to help you, to make it better."
You sighed and leaned into him, closing your eyes as you tried to focus on your breathing. "I'm not hurt and no one threatened me. I'm just a little stressed out and I needed a good cry, that's all."
He nodded softly as he leaned in to kiss your temple. "Well, I'm here. I can be your shoulder to cry on. If that's what you want." He murmured softly.
You nodded as you crawled into his lap, letting him wrap his arms around you. The two of you stayed like that for a long time, until your eyes started to feel heavy. You felt Jonathan press a light kiss to your head as you drifted off to sleep in his arms.
❀ end note: ugh i loved making this omg
❀ jonathan crane masterlist | main masterlist
❀ if you liked this fic then i would really appreciate it if you liked, or commented, or reblog it! thanks for reading! ❀
summary | jonathans girlfriend accidentally takes some fear toxin, while finding out that he is the scarecrow (i suck at summaries, lol)
pairing | jonathan crane x innocent!fem!reader!
word count | 1.2k
genre | fluff with some angst!
requested? | yes! thank you so much for this request @kpopgirlbtssvt i had so much fun writing it!
warnings! | the reader gets drugged, but I think that’s it! Please let me know if there is anything that I am missing! And, this is not really proofread yet, lol
author’s note! | my requests are open for these characters! please send in your requests for blurbs, headcanons, or imagines! And as always, I do I have really bad OCD that causes me to write in some random capitalization, and punctuation, But I think that we don't have to worry about that in this fic lol. And let me know if there are any mistakes, but please be kind!
Jonathan has been at work the entire day, irritated and stressed beyond belief. The only thing getting him through it? Knowing that his beautiful girl was home waiting for him. She called him earlier to let him know that she was going to his place after her last class, he insisted that she just rest after, but she kept saying something about a surprise she had planned. He knew there was no talking her out of it, so he decided that it would be better to just look forward to anything she had planned.
When he met her, he could have sworn she wasn’t real. She had accidentally bumped into him while she was getting her coffee one day, and knocked his coffee to the ground. She immediately started apologizing, and asking what his order was so she could get him a new one. And, no matter how many times he told her it was fine, and to not worry about it (mostly so he could just hurry on to work) she wouldn’t stop. He finally caved and gave her his order, and she immediately ran and ordered him a new one. She gave it to him with an intoxicating smile on her face while still apologizing. After the encounter Jonathan had to dig deep into his mind and make sure he hadn’t just imagined it. Just to make sure, he went back to the same coffee shop the next morning, and saw her sitting there at a table, her pale pink nails tapping away at her computer, while sipping her drink. As he was about to leave, she looked up at him, and invited him to sit with her. They sat and talked until the coffee shop was closing up.
Jonathan unlocked his door and walked into his home, while the smell of a freshly cooked meal immediately hit him in the face. He realized what the surprise must have been. She had mentioned last week how she wished they had enough time to spend a proper meal with each other. He had something planned for the weekend, but she must have beat him to it. As he walked into the kitchen he saw the lights dimmed, candles lit, and the amazing meal set out on the table. The only thing missing? His angel was nowhere to be seen. He suddenly became very aware of his surroundings as he heard small whimpers coming from the bathroom beyond the shut door.
“Sweetheart?” He called out, as he knocked on the door. When all he got back was a scared whimper he decided that he couldn’t wait for a response, and walked into the bathroom only to be met with a sight that broke his heart.
His girlfriend trembling in the corner with tears streaming down her face, the nice dress she had on now all wrinkled up. Her once done up hair had now been messed up from what he imagined would have been her fingers pulling at it. She had her head down on her knees while mumbling something to herself that he couldn’t make out. He didn’t understand what was going on until he noticed the now knocked over, and empty bottle of his fear toxin on the sink.
“Angel?” He said calmly as he bent to her level, slowly taking her face in his hands as he tried to make eye contact with her eyes darting everywhere but at him.
“J-Johnny? There was a-” She stopped as she started to sob again. He pulled her into his chest and held her until she started to calm down.
Once she calmed down enough, he helped her into the shower to calm her, and make sure she knew that whatever it was she saw was fake, but what she was feeling was real. After he helped her get dried off, dressed, and wrapped in a blanket on the couch, he brought her a warm cup of tea, and sat opposite of her, waiting for her to talk first.
“What was that?” She quietly mumbled out, while taking a sip of her tea, staring straight ahead.
“It was a fear toxin, something I use on patients.” He tells her slowly in fear of her freaking out, but she stays surprisingly calm, while just staring straight ahead, so he continued. “I give it to them so they can face their fears, and see that it is all just in their heads”
“And the mask?” She asked, finally looking at him, her eyes puffy, and red from all the crying she had done. “I saw it in the case, I went to put it away, but when I picked it up, it was unlocked and everything fell out. It’s the mask of that man they show on the news, is that you Jonathan?”
He stared at her for a minute, trying to figure out how to answer this without her freaking out. “Yes, it’s me, and I completely understand if that makes you want to end this.”
Saying that to her broke his heart, he wanted her to stay, but he knew that if this was too much for her, he needed to let her leave. She was the only person in this world that he could never even dream of hurting, no matter how much it would hurt him.
“Jonathan, I’m not completely sure what it is that you do, but I do know that you make me feel safer, and happier than any other man in this city could. I’m not sure that I'm ready to know exactly what it is you do, but I’m not ready for this to end.” She has to him in almost a whisper.
“Thank you, Sweetheart. I’ll explain everything when you’re ready.” He says while pulling her down to lay on his chest, while wrapping the blanket around them both. As he kisses her head he notices that she has already fallen asleep, probably worn out from the fear toxin. Jonathan eventually falls asleep with her on the couch, with her all wrapped up in his arms.
The next morning, Jonthan woke up to the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes, and his girlfriend was no longer on his chest. He walks into the kitchen to see her, dancing around the kitchen while fixing breakfast. She jumped a little as he walked up behind her, and wrapped his arms around her.
“Shhhh Sweetheart, it’s just me.” He mumbles into her neck, while leaving small kisses. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“I was hungry.” She said to him with a smile, while making them both a plate.
“Hey Jonathan?” She says while sitting across from him as they ate. “Am I going to get hurt?” she asked him somewhat quietly.
Jonathan made his way to kneel down next to her chair. “Never, that is the last thing that would happen, angel. You have nothing to fear.” He said, looking at her with complete genuineness.
“Okay” She said to him with a nod, and a smile. Jonathan stood up, and leaned down to give her a quick kiss. As they pulled away smiling, Jonathan picked her up while she gave a small squeal. He smiled down at her only to see that she was smiling back at him as he carried her to his bedroom. While they were smiling at each other, Jonathan knew that this would all end up all right.
jonathan crane taking care of you when you're sick
completely self-indulgent and probably not my best lol!! wrote this in an hour bc i'm sick as a dog
౨ৎ daily click to help palestine 🍉
One night, your throat began to feel sore. It should’ve been a sign, but you simply thought it was your allergies and the cold weather coming together to kick your butt for one night.
But as the night grew into early morning, you couldn’t sleep as the sore throat added on a headache, aching muscles, chills, and sweats. After having the worst chills, making your entire body even more sore-- you were now flushed, warm to the touch, and beginning to sweat.
Luckily for you, your boyfriend was a walking freezer.
You lay beside Jonathan on your shared bed, tucked into his bare chest in just your tank top and underwear, after you had stripped off your clothes following your sudden sweats. Jonathan had done the same, lying beside you in just his pajama bottoms. It was a complete 180 to just moments before, with you layered up and wrapped in two or three blankets to fight off your trembling chills.
All those winter nights you spent pawing at his chest, trying to put as much space between you and his icy hands as possible were far gone; instead, you grabbed his hand and placed it atop your head as a makeshift cold compress.
He chuckled, holding his hand to your forehead as he sat up on one elbow beside you. “Remember not even an hour ago when you told me to not touch you?”
“That was before I felt like I was put in an oven.” You responded, your voice weak with your fatigue and discomfort. Your brows were furrowed, and he wiped away the forming sweat forming at your hairline.
Unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend had a secret side-- he secretly liked seeing you writhe and in some state of pain. He looked down at you, watching as you showed visible discomfort while curling into him, caught in his imagination of what it would be like with you under his fear toxin.
That was, until, your soft mewl of discomfort pulled him from his thoughts. He gave you quiet, comforting shushes, running his cold hand through your hair. He readjusted himself so he laid down, resting your head on his bare chest. His skin was cold to the touch, consoling your body as your body fought against your flu.
“I’m sorry.” You broke the silence, your voice weak and scratchy as your eyes stayed shut due to your relentless headache.
His brows scrunch together, his crystal blue eyes flickering down to look at you lying atop his chest. “Sorry for what?”
“For getting sick, and keeping you up.” You weakly answered, placing your hand atop his chest. “I know you’re tired from work, and you’ll be tired-”
“Shush. I’ll always take care of you.” He answered, wrapping his hand around your wrist. “You’re mine.”
You let a small smile grow on your lips despite your discomfort, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. “I’ll take the day off, don’t worry. I’ll stay home and take care of you. Just try and sleep, darling.” He whispers, letting go of your wrist to hold the back of your head. He watches as you slowly slip into sleep, pushing the wispy hairs back from your hairline and placing a soft kiss onto your forehead.
You were a fairy, cradled in a perfectly curved, perfectly velvet petal, your naked peaks and valleys crested into his strong figure. You felt safe in his firmness. He felt like home.
His hand tapped at your thigh, matching the rhythm of his heart, as his other hand gripped an open book by the spine. Your knees were tucked; cheek and palm on the ebb and flow of his lungs; breaths steady and deep. You could lay here for hours: naked and languid and melting into his stalwart huskiness.
You looked up at him--at the slight crescents between his brows and the piercing focus of his irises as they glided across the page. Something in his jaw would twitch every now and then, and his Adam's apple would bob as he swallowed a stoic thought. He felt your head move and peered down, and all he saw were your eyes--that ravishingly, undeniably feminine gaze.
Your love would've been a dangerous game with anyone else. But with him, you felt like nothing could ever hurt you. You felt invincible. Because he was the one who held you at night--who you would cry on and nestle up to when you had a nightmare.
"What's on your mind, pretty girl? Hm?" He brought his arm up to your small head and petted your hair, his long eyelashes dampening his gaze as it melted into yours.
The way he looked at you; it was as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.
Oh, and his voice--rugged with fatigue and slick from hours of silence. You loved hearing your name slip from his throat and jump off his tongue as if it belonged somewhere deep in his core.
You felt your eyelids grow heavy as his palm continually smoothed your hair down in gentle herculean motions. Protection and safeness radiated from his every fiber. You never felt so treasured.
"Nothing," you sighed, breaking eye contact as you rested your cheek on his chest once more. His lips made their way to the top of your head, giving you a soft peck, before continuing to glide his palm down your shiny hair. After a moment of silence, which swelled with the intermingling of your peaceful breaths, you added, "I want to stay like this forever. With you." It came out groggy as you drifted off in his arms.
A quiet smile tugged at his lip. "I'll make sure of it. Just for you."
It was the last thing you heard before waking up to cold sheets and an empty bed. You knew he had to flee in the middle of the night. You knew it was to keep you safe. You sat on your knees with your calves splayed out, your wispy locks of hair tickling your bare shoulders. On the pink, satin pillow next to you was a note:
My girl,
I'm sorry for yet another late-night disappearance. Trouble in paradise, it seems.
I've left you a gift beneath your pillow. Use it when you need me and I'm not there.
I love you always,
j.
Your fingers slipped under the mound of satin and prodded at something cold and metal, but not foreign in your grasp. Pulling it out from underneath the pillow, your slender fingers wrapped around the barrel of a Weble-Fosbery automatic revolver.
A single pink ribbon had been neatly wrapped around the grip, adorning it with a small, powder pink bow. As you brought the firearm closer to your face, you noticed your initials carved into the frame in pretty, cursive letters.
Word Count
1780
Author's Note
Dear reader, I fear I have cooked. A few months ago, I started my first year of law school, and promptly turned right back to fictional characters for comfort. I thought I left this behind in middle school. But apparently not.
I started playing around with the idea of a softer, more humane Jonathan Crane. As much as I love maniacal, borderline psychopathic Scarecrow, I wanted fluff. And then I figured I'd toss an OC into the mix to live out my dreams in ink.
I have a lot of ideas for this. I've got several chapters outlined. And I intend it to be my magnum opus. But I'm not going to promise frequent updates. I'm writing around my law school schedule, editing when I can. I don't want to post something I'm not at least content with, if not happy.
And as for the requests which have been marinating in my drafts, we're getting there. I'm so sorry for the delay. Life has been a mess, these last few years. I'm just happy I've rekindled enough spark to write. Someday. Someday soon.
Thank you to everyone who's stuck around and put up with me. Lots of love <3
Summary
It's just another night in Gotham. Or so Jonathan thought.
It was supposed to be just another normal night.
What did a normal night look like, for Jonathan? Well. A few fingers of whiskey. A bit of tinkering with the Toxin. And a light late-night stroll through Gotham to test his concoction, i.e. dousing any unlucky bastard who was unfortunate enough to stumble into his path.
And that's how tonight started. That's how tonight was supposed to go.
The clock struck midnight. The air stilled. And he descended. He came unto Gotham, flocked by ravens, a figure of fear, a figure of doom, a figure of death. Where he went, darkness followed, shrouding the city in shadow. In the near-pitch black, the Toxin gleamed. A delicate gold. The colour of fireflies, of promises, of sunsets by the sea. Beautiful. Deceptive. Fleeting. It illuminated his path as he skulked through the streets, ocean eyes always alert, always ablaze, in search of his next victim.
And where better to find a victim than Crime Alley itself?
Crime Alley. The heart of Gotham. The bloody, bruised, and broken heart. Yet one that continues to beat. It's no wonder Gotham is the way it is — a crime-addled city with no hopes of clawing its way out of the depths of its hell. The body cannot heal, if its very heart is infected; if the infection runs within its lifeblood, and is cursed to be passed to its descendants. For how can anything be separated from what sustains it?
And what sustains Gotham but Crime Alley itself? The blackened centre of the city, infested with the worst of pests, the lowest of scum. Criminals. Of all sorts. Drug lords and gangsters and murderers, ruling a kingdom of empty souls — hollowed henchmen and withered whores. And children. Innocent children. With too much hope in their hearts, and too much space in their stomachs.
Children, whose innocence fades, day in, and day out. Children, whose eyes lose light, faster than lightning strikes the skies and water flows to seas. Children, whose youthful hope is hollowed out, hammered out, and battered and bruised, until it becomes naught but shell; the finest of shells — the line between life, and loss.
That is Crime Alley. The bleeding heart of Gotham. A place so full of filth and scum, that even God dare not enter, for fear of soiling himself; for fear of tarnishing his purity, and falling into darkness.
The perfect haunt for a ghost of a man.
And so Jonathan prowled, Toxin glowing in the dark, ready to pounce upon, inflict fear upon, anyone who dared stumble into his path.
At this point, Gotham knew better. The greatest of sins may be committed in the light, with the whole world and God himself spectating. But the most horrific of sins, the most personal of them, always under cover of darkness — only ever a trick of the night, nothing more.
What happens beneath the dim glow of the stars is doomed to fade with them.
A rustle, a shift. And Jonathan grinned. A victim at last. He skulked down the street, turned the corner of the cobblestone path, and prepared to pounce.
And then he saw her. And his heart stopped.
-----
Irene.
Irene Martha Wayne.
The Bat's eldest. The Bat's everything. Adopted a year after Dick, with two on him. Never Robin. Never a vigilante. But vital nonetheless. Not to the mission. Not at all. But to Gotham.
They give her many names. The Wayne Princess. Fitting. Not only for her beauty, not only for her grace. But for her power, for her presence. Gotham's Angel. Better fitting. Why? Well…
Frankly, Jonathan thought, she was the only useful Wayne. Brucie, overall, no better than a whore. And Timmy, honestly, too sleep-deprived. They do what they do. Of course they do. Massive donations flow from the Wayne Trust to every charity in Gotham and beyond.
But how much does that actually do? How much of that money trickles down into the city's soul to seal the cracks that lie within? Not much.
But then there was Irene. President of the Martha Wayne Foundation. The only organization associated with the billionaire scum that actually did anything concrete. The MWF, under Irene, aimed to revitalize Gotham.
Its very presence altered Gotham's legal landscape, writing protections for marginalized communities, and vulnerable beings — animals, children, women, into legislation. It funded and ran orphanages and shelters, safe spaces for the abused. It decriminalized sex work, and put up barriers to it, allowing those trapped within the sphere to either operate safely, or escape entirely.
And at the forefront of it all was Irene. Irene, with her kind eyes and gentle soul. Irene, with her soft heart and steady hands. Irene, who never demeaned nor shamed the abused and the vulnerable. Irene, the saviour of the broken, the beaten, and the damned.
Jonathan had never been a man of sentiment. The word alone was enough to disgust him. But something about her, about angelic Irene, made him want to care. Because she cared. Because she saw and she heard the children who grew up within the same cruelties he faced. And she loved them and she saved them from suffering his fate.
-----
Jonathan stood in the shadows a moment, concealed by cover of darkness, free to lose himself in his little reverie, as he gazed at the angel that graced his presence. She was knelt by the alley wall, bare knees pressed into sharp cobblestone, ivory cashmere shawl wrapped around a scraggly cat and a litter of kittens. The expensive weave was soiled, with the grime of the earth, and the blood of birth, but she paid neither any heed.
And then the moment snapped to an end. His beloved companion, his most trusted confidant, his feathery daughter, his darling Ichabod — squawked. Adorable fluffy traitor.
Irene startled at the sound, head whipping to face them, hair tossing in the wind with her movement. And then her eyes caught upon the unmistakable firefly glow of Toxin. And she quivered. She stood on trembling legs, shielding the cats behind her, fumbling in her handbag.
And then she drew a gun. A pretty thing. A useless thing. A vintage revolver, wrought iron and cherry wood. Art-deco florals carved into the grip and the slide. Cute, certainly. But impractical. More bark than bite. More show than spirit.
"Don't come any closer," she warned, voice hoarse. Here tone softened to a whisper, "Please."
Ichabod squawked softly, flapped her wings, flew from Jonathan's shoulder to perch softly on Irene's. The gentle weight of the crow, tucked into the crook of her neck, threw her off-balance, only for a moment. Her shoulders tensed.
Ichabod pressed her beak into Irene's cheek, cooed softly, nuzzling her face. A distraction tactic. It had to be. A way to lower her guard, render her vulnerable, so the Scarecrow may have his fun with her. And goddamn it all, it was working.
Partly in joy, and partly in fear, Irene offered Ichabod the softest of head-scritches. For not even god knew what would happen if she refused. Ichabod preened under her touch (and Ichabod never preened under anyone's touch but Jonathan's), nuzzled her cheek in something almost resembling affection.
"Mama," Ichabod cawed, "My Mama."
Irene blanked, stilled. Did the Scarecrow's crow just call her…
Jonathan's eyes bulged beneath the burlap. In shock. In surprise. But also in something else, something almost quietly tender. Nevertheless, he strode forward. And Irene shook in response.
She was beautiful in her fear. The most beautiful girl in the world. Whiskey-obsidian eyes behind hammered-gold glasses, dilated pupils and red-rimmed irises. Dark lashes coated with mascara, and lengthened with tears. Hair falling in mussed waves around her shoulders, fluttering as her chest heaved with every ragged breath. Caramel skin, marred with acne scars, with trickles of tears. Rosebud lips, adorned with glitter gloss, which gleamed as they quivered in the low light of the moon.
He stalked towards her, lifted a hand. The syringes moulded against the flow of his veins gleamed filament gold. She stifled a soft whimper, pressed the muzzle of her revolver into his chest, into the soft dip in the burlap that concealed his heart.
"I'll shoot," she whispered. And almost as if in support of her, Ichabod pecked at the sallow flesh of his inner wrist, above the vein where his lifeblood pulsed. A peck of protest. A silent signal — don't mess with my mama.
He chuckled in response. A low, raspy sound. Not the sound of a maniac. But the sound of a man. The man he hid beneath the veneer of madness.
"Oh darlin'," he sighed, something almost fond in his tone, "Dontcha fret."
She tensed at the endearment. He smirked. And then his gaze fell upon the kittens curled up behind her. The ice in his ocean eyes seemed to melt, if only the smallest fraction. For who could resist the allure of a pile of kittens?
Her gaze fell on his, and she instinctively slid down to shield the cats. Her eyes widened, her breaths shallowed. The revolver trembled in her hands, the frosty light of the moon rippling over the carvings in the slide.
He sighed, exasperated, and crouched before her. He pried the gun from her trembling hands, tossed it aside. She winced as it cracked against the cobblestone. He scoffed beneath the burlap, reached out, a single claw-like fingertip tracing over the back of a kitten's head.
"Sweet lil things, ain't they?" he crooned. Ichabod cawed softly in agreement.
But Irene whimpered.
"Take me," she whispered, "Not them. Please, not them." He shifted, knelt on one knee, hooked a singular curled finger beneath the soft flesh under her chin.
"Look at me."
He lifted her chin, uncharacteristically gently. She flinched, but complied, gaze rising to meet his. His eyes bore into hers — aquamarine into obsidian. He thumbed at a stray tear on her cheek. A syringe pressed against her honey skin. She gasped, held her breath. But it didn't pierce her skin. He didn't let it.
"Take you, you said?"
"Take me. Not them. Please. They're innocent. They won't understand. They won't know what's happening. I will," she choked out, "Please. Not them."
"Take you…" he repeated.
His hand shifted, palm cradling the curve of her cheek. Her eyes fluttered a moment, and her subconscious sighed at the gesture. She caught herself before she leaned into his touch. His thumb skimmed her cheekbone, her glittery highlighter smudged into his fair skin. A keepsake. A memory.
"Someday, darlin'," he murmured, "Someday soon."
She blinked. And he was gone. Slunk into the shadows.
(A/N: Another older insert reader from about two years ago that I finally got around to finishing. Here’s one where Jonathan and Reader were both celebrating that neither of them had crossed paths with Batman for a whole week. Then things kind of heat up from there. Jonathan still needs the reassurance that Reader is being true in their relationship because he’s not used to that.
This is kinda related to my previous Jonathan Crane fanfics discussing Batman’s opinion on their relationship.
Minors Do Not Interact with this.
Warnings: Minor angst, romance, first time together, lovemaking, hand job (both), unprotected sex, and mentions of Jonathan having past heartbreak.
Word Count: 2,124 words)
~~~
A celebration was in order. A disguised excuse to be together and leaving adult responsibilities for another day.
Neither you nor Jonathan had crossed paths with the Batman for over a full work week. No captured Crane and you weren’t wrangled into another lecture about being too close to Scarecrow.
Honestly, it was a relief.
Over at your apartment, Jonathan had prepared dinner. A little something warm, hot, and homey. You had insisted cooking was his secret skill. The meal and time together was lovely. Something you cherished.
Cleaning the dishes could had been worse, but at least the plate didn’t break when it slipped from your grasp.
You were lucky. Yet it was a firm reminder to Jonathan and yourself that you were capable of being distracted.
Drying your hands, you could see Jonathan pushing his sleeves just that much further up to expose his forearms.
Could it be the glimpse of skin when he was otherwise all covered up?
Was it the lean muscle that lead to Jonathan’s dexterous hands?
Maybe you simply missed holding his hand after a long week?
Probably all of the above. And then some. You did adore the man for all that he was and would be.
The towel stilled in your hands as Jonathan’s arms encircled your waist.
“Do you have any after-dinner plans?” Asked Jonathan, his breath tickling your ear.
“I was thinking we could watch a movie,” you said and hung the kitchen towel up to dry. “Maybe share that really soft blanket I got a few weeks ago.”
“Sounds very domestic.”
“And I’m hoping to keep it that way. You know.” You gestured towards the windows on the other side of the living room. Ones that had been covered with curtains all evening.
“He couldn’t be that irritating.” Jonathan tightened his hold around you.
“It’s been a week…”
The two of you grew silent. Lost in thoughts of the Batman dropping by to lure you away from Doctor Crane. Again.
So much for getting handsy in the kitchen.
Sighing, your shoulders lowered. “I just wanted a little celebration with a sprinkle of romance. No fear of nocturnal creatures.”
Jonathan’s lips met your ear. “You’re not afraid of him, are you?”
You tilted your head. “More annoyed, I think.”
Humming, he pressed a firm kiss to your exposed neck.
“More annoying still that we’re talking about him when I finally have you all to myself. A great feat these days.” You smiled contently as Jonathan continued giving slow, strategically placed kisses. “And…we could just shut off all the lights,” you suggested.
“Skip the movie.”
“Get under the blanket.”
“Share body heat.”
“And a few other things?” You folded your arms over Jonathan’s, hopeful.
His lips curved upward against your skin. Lean hips pressed closer to you from behind.
“I’ll get the lights,” he whispered.
“Meet you on the couch.”
You turned your head and gave Jonathan a long, generous kiss. One you two would surely continue.
Jonathan slipped out of your grasp and gave you a head start. Stilling his hand by the light-switch, he was patient.
You were quick to cross the floor. Unfolding the new blanket in a rush, you laid it across the couch cushions.
In the second it took you to glance over to your partner, the apartment went dark. Save for the candles on the dining table that flickered, forgotten as you sat on the couch.
“Hmm, this blanket is really soft,” you murmured.
“Debatable.”
His foot bumped yours on the floor.
“With what?” You reached up and gently tugged him on the couch beside you.
In turn, he grabbed ahold of your thighs and pulled you fully on the couch, legs draped over his lap.
“With what’s underneath,” he said and gave your thighs a squeeze.
“Sweet and suggestive words.”
“You suggested we share other things.” He inched his fingers further up your thigh.
Humming quietly, you took your time as you unbuttoned his dress shirt. Working your way up, you listened to the sound of his breathing subtly changing. Fingers skimming over his heartbeat. Strong and more noticeable in the position you two were in. Then, having found his neck in the dark, you leaned in to kiss his throat.
Jonathan sucked in a breath.
Sliding your fingers along his skin, you pushed his shirt passed his shoulders, soon discarding it over the back of the couch. You took your time caressing his shoulders and arms. Kissing your way down his slender neck.
His fingers dug into your nice clothes. A soft moan left him as your hands explored his chest.
“I’ve missed you.” You murmured. “All of you. Your mind, your eyes, your voice, your touch…” You kissed his lips slowly and whispered, “Undress me.”
Jonathan pulled at fabric feebly, too busy kissing you again.
Finding his hands, you guided Jonathan as he removed your clothes piece by piece. Slender fingers glided over your skin and eliciting small gasps from yourself as he touched with cold fingertips. Chills ran across your skin.
“Is this alright?” Jonathan asked softly and a little hesitant, hands stilled at your waist.
“I’m with you. Of course this is all right.”
Chuckling, he gave you a quick kiss. Then one more as you took his hands in yours once again.
The pair of you removed the rest of your undergarments before you straddled his lap. Jonathan’s hands rested along your upper back as he gazed upon you in the candlelight.
“Your body is as lovely as your mind.”
Pulling yourself in closer, you thanked your partner with a deep kiss. You felt his exhale as he held you to him. Chests warming between two quick heartbeats.
“I finally get you all to myself,” you whispered against his lips, running your fingers through his hair. “Just us.” You kissed a path down his skin.
“Yes,” he breathed out, “If anyone ruins this, I’ll give them three doses of fe—.”
His words were cut off as your teeth grazed his neck.
You pressed a kiss to his skin; likely reddening. “Good, but I think we’ll be,” you pulled down the zipper of his trousers, “just fine.”
“Agreed.” He swallowed.
Lifting up his hips and fussing around with more articles of clothes, soon Jonathan was as bare as you. Vulnerable and flustered with how close you two had become.
“You okay?” You asked, palm against his burning cheek.
“Sitting with anticipation.”
“You and me both.”
Jonathan placed a hand over yours on his cheek and smiled.
Held together by languid kisses and roaming hands, the pair of you took your time. No rush to get anywhere later nor hide. Lovers memorizing the slight curves of the other. Discovering beautiful imperfections and how it felt to give passionate affections.
You knew Jonathan had held so many doubts before either of you had seen the other’s apartment. To be wrapped around the other, bare and on your couch, was an enormous step towards ensuring each other’s deep adoration.
“Let me take care of you a bit, yeah?” You delicately pushed up his glasses before slowly dragging that hand down his body.
Jonathan shivered under your touch. Yet not as much as when your hand grasped around his member.
You smirked, moving your hand up and down repetitively. Gently, of course, for your dear Jonathan.
He relaxed onto the couch. Soft moans leaving his lips every so often.
There was no need to hurry. Everyday came and went with many tasks. The time alone together in your apartment did not require any of that.
“You look so gorgeous like this,” you confessed, feeling quite content with yourself.
To see your Jonathan comfortable and sighing in pleasure may have also given you a confidence boost. You were doing this with him. He deserved some time to unwind. To have his mind on something he never had before, not without lies at least.
You would never dare to consider the thought of hurting him. Seeing him burdened with his past was enough to claw at your own heart. You never wished to be the cause of it. Jonathan held a special place in your heart and always would.
Leaving the hold he had on your hips, one of Jonathan’s hands started exploring the wetness between your legs.
“Oh.” He breathed out.
You closed your eyes. Loosing yourself in his touch.
Jonathan Crane was indeed an intelligent man. Inventive as he was caring, in your experience with him.
So why did it surprise you that he was giving as much as you were?
Perhaps subconsciously you imagined leading him by the hand with encouraging words as you shared body heat in the most unrestrained form of connection. Perhaps you thought he’d be too nervous. Perhaps, in your anticipation, you forgot how Jonathan had grown to initiate affection with you, his partner.
Could you be that silly or were you in love?
What was the difference?
Kissing his chin, you removed your hands from Jonathan.
“Lay with me?” Reclining onto the cushions, the blanket was soft along your bare skin.
He nodded. Following after you and your body heat. Jonathan pressed multitudes of kisses across your shoulders and neck. All of them soft and barely hiding his rapid breathing. He kept himself propped up on his arms. Ones you gladly held onto.
A light gasp escaped him as you made room for him between your legs. In response, Jonathan laid an openmouthed kiss just below your ear. Delicately, he adjusted his hips to align with yours.
It was a wonder how close you could be and yet still not be close enough.
Rocking your hips, you aided his member to run along your folds. You closed your eyes at the pleasurable sensations that zipped through you. Between his kisses and his movements, it was beginning to consume your mind.
“I need you.”
Your whisper caused Jonathan to stop moving.
“Are you sure?” He asked, lifting his head to look at you properly.
“Very sure, Jonathan. And… Oh, please know I want this. You. Truly.” You cradled his face between your hands. “I want to be with you.”
Behind eyeglasses, emotions swirled in Jonathan’s eyes.
“Just us.”
Leaning down, Jonathan kissed you fervently. All lips and panting hot breaths. He released his emotions full heartedly.
You felt as he guided his tip to your entrance.
Your sudden moan startled him, if only for a second. He managed to see your smile. Amongst the semidarkness, he found one of your hands to hold.
“Easy,” you used your free hand to hold his hip as he eased himself into your warmth. A moan left you, mixing into a giddy laugh and back to a moan. “Good.”
“Good?” Jonathan asked, quirking up an eyebrow.
“Very.” You kissed his lips eagerly.
You almost came then.
Safe and adored, you could be in his arms forever. Just like that. In the quiet and peaceful night without a care of what happened outdoors. It was you and Jonathan. All you wanted.
A gasp shot out of you as Jonathan gave a particularly pleasant thrust. You tightened your hold on him.
“Oh, Jonathan.”
Could you both have more?
More time together to explore domestic bliss and passionate moments between work life would be an extended goal. One you were adding onto each day whether consciously or not. You would be with Jonathan because you both wanted to. No one could convince you otherwise.
“Darlin’, you’re—,” Jonathan inhaled sharply, “—so beautiful.” His words raced out as he rested his forehead against your shoulder.
Your legs were squeezing around him, limbs locked tightly while you both met your pelvises together again and again.
“Don’t stop. Please… Jonathan.”
Sucking in much needed air, you shut your eyes. You let your body do what it craved, thrusting and quivering until it all came to a peak. It hit you like a wave.
Faintly, you could hear a ramble. A repetitive chant of your name.
You opened your eyes.
A loud gasp came from Jonathan as he quickly removed himself from you. His climax rushed through him quickly. Hands clasping the blanket as he came over you.
In a huff, Jonathan fell into your embrace. His hot breath fanned across your collarbone.
“We did it,” he whispered breathlessly, almost to himself.
“And it was amazing by the way.”
You could almost picture him flushing at your words.
Kissing the side of his head, you wrapped your arms around his back.
“Later, do you wanna take a shower, handsome?”
“A shower?”
“Yeah…” You ran a finger along his spine. “You’re welcome to stay over. Please?”
“I would not think to refuse.” Jonathan kissed your collarbone. “I’ll surely sleep well with you, darlin’.”
~~~
(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful.
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Best wishes and happy reading.)
~~~~~
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DESCRIPTION: You're a new student at your university. You were smart and dedicated to learning. But every uni student gets up to some crazy things, right?
A/N - I have work tomorrow and instead of going to sleep for my day I'm here writing a fan fic. I make very sensible choices.
WORD COUNT: 2245
Next / Master List
WARNINGS: Reader is an introvert/anti social, mild cussing (bloody/Jesus), reader is a little judgy, mentions of drinking, mentions of sex/nudity
DISCLAIMERS
This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand
Not been proof read
You take a deep breath. Living on campus was new to you so you were quite nervous to say the least. Going into the dorm rooms you hear people chatting around you. Finding your room number. 16. Opening it with the new key you had. You shut the door behind you. Placing your rucksack down onto the chair in your new room.
You’d not been in education for about a year at this point. Having had a gap year to do some exploring so you had to get back into the mindset of doing if. You rst your head back as the door knocks. SOmeone walks in "Oh hey!" your roommate says. Her bubbly personaltiy being a surprise based on the rudeness of some of the other dorm people that you’d bumped into. "Im Lucky" she comes over to you. Hugging you. You gently pat her back before she moves away. Resting a hand on her hip she eyes you up and down.
Your oversized hoodie and jeans being a contrast to her mini skirt and tight shirt. Both leaving very little to the imagination. You wihs you had the confidence to wear something like that. "Im Luna"
"Oh that is a beautiful name" she says, cuaisng you to smile. SHe hugs you again "I think we're going to be best friends" she says. ALmost squealing as she moves away from the hug. "What is it that you're studying?"
"Art and drama"
"Oh my friend did that last year. I tried but got bored. Everything I do mildly creative ends up looking like a toddler did it” you let out a soft chuckle
“So does mine but that doesn’t mean I don’t try to do it”she laughs “what do you do instead then?”
“I do psychology"
"Thats cool. I was debating doing it but decided against it” a knock at the door stops your conversation as she looks owards it
"come in". she says. SOmeone walks in.
"Lucky do you want to come see my new room?" she nods, looking at you as she stands
"DO you want to come?"
"No Im ok tha k you. Ive got to unpack" she looks at your singular rucksack but nods
"ALright then. See you later" she smiles before walking off. You grab your bag. Taking out your various items. Your diary, book, clothes, etc. SOrting it all out onto your bed before putting it away properly on your side of the room.
Youd moved in on the Saturday. Sunday having a few induction days or various groups you could join. Then Monday being peoples first day at uni. Now it was Sunday. After a night in reading yur book. Your roommate coming in during the early hours of the morning, very drunk. You got up early and explored the grounds. Going over to a stall with various cakes and such on it.
You hear someone letting out a groan beside you. "Hi there Luna"
"Did someone have a good time last night?" you look at Lucky standing next to you. Sunglasses on despite the dark weather. SHe nods. Taking the glasses off as she looks at you. A black eye adorning her face. "Jesus what happened to you?"
"I had a terrible fight. With the floor. ANd lost" you let out a slight chuckle as she picks up one of the cupcakes. The lady at the stall going to speak but she shushes her. Walking off. You grab out a fiver from your purse, placig it down and mouthing 'sorry' to her. Catching up with your new friend. SHe bites down into the cake, a moan escaping her lips as she speaks with her mouth full "That is a bloody good cake". SHe looks at you, swallowing before talking again "what did you get up to last ngiht?"
"Nothing in particualr. I read my book, had a shower, then went to bed"
"You should come out with me tonight"
"I have classes early tomorrow morning so I really shouldnt"
"Oh come on. Itll be fun!" she grabs your arm "I can introduce you to some of my friends. I think you'll like one of them. Hes handsome and he likes books to. Plus you have similar fashion tastes. Oh lets look over here" SHe drags you over to a stall. Making small talk with the person behind it. You both go round to the rest of the stalls. Meeting a couple of her other friends.
The day going past quckly. You manage to convicne your new friend to stay in the night. Inviting her and two of her other friends rund. You stay up till quite late. Talking about a whole variety of things. Sadly things that didnt overly interest you. Boys you found cute. WHat lipstick shade was the best. Hair products. Although you found the conversation lacking in intellect you enjoyed the girls company so engaged in the talk with them.
You found one of the girls was also doing art. So you agreed to walk to class together. Her name was Hope. Sitting next to her in class, you found she had a lot higher intellegence then you initially thought when yo first met her. ACtually having a decent conversation with her until your professor walked in. Then every brain cell she seemed to have rotted away as she practicly stared at her. A young woman. Probably early thirties. Eyeliner perfect, hair styled in a way that looked both messy yet neat. You chuckle slightly. You were unaware that this new friend of yours swung that way, and this was certainly an interesting and entertaining way to find out.
"Please can you all call me Destiny. I would go about the formality of you using my doctorate name but we are here to make art. Not have a tea party with the queen. So-" she says. "I want everyone to pick up their pens. Pencils. Paints. Paper mache. WHatever you need to make a piece that says 'I am me'. You have the rest of the day. I will be judging them when you all go home to some sort of party Im sure"
You pick grab out your sketch book and pencils. Starting to trace your art piece. Noticing your friend still drooling over your teacher. You nudge her. Cuasing her to fall out of the trance. SHe looks at you. Her face turning a wonderful shade of tomato red.
"How much of that did you get?"
"Soemthing about her being our destiny"
"Ok then" you laugh. Explaing to your love stricken friend what she needs to do.
Once she listened she started her piece, as did you. You did a simple piece of work. A black and white picture of yourself. Behind it a mass of colour. Tryng to show that although you appeared dull on the outside, you had a lot of fun to show to those who got to know you.
Hope links an arm with you as you leave the lecture. "Are you coming to the party tonight?"
"You know that we're here for education right? ANd npt to drink ourselves to death"
"Oh come on"
"Ive got a very good book and a film to watch though"
"You can do that any day"
"I can have a party any day" she rolls her eyes.
"Come for like... an hour. If you dont like it then you can go back to your room"
"Fine..."
"Yay!" she exclaims. "I'll be round to take ypu and Lucky at 9. SPeak of the devil!" Lucky walks up to you both. Linking an arm with you on the other side. "I was just telling Luna about our party tonight"
"Youre coming?"
"I am" she squeals. Hugging you close to her. You gently pack her back. "You can borrow one of my dresses if youd like?"
"Oh no. Im not wearing a dress"
"Yes. Yes you are" you give her an uncomfortable look "At least wear a skirt".
"Skirt but a hoodie. ANd tights"
"Deal" she holds her hand out for you to shake. To which yo do.
If this was a movie. There would be a cheesy dress up montage. WHere the popluar girl takes off your glasses and straitens your hair and your suddenly beautiful. But this isnt a movie, so you settle with them doing their makeup in your room. Playing various pop music on their 'top of the charts' CD. Putting some mascara on your, as well as a deep blue skirt paired with a grey hoodie and black tights.
You get to the partry. You stand awkwardly in the corner. Watching men and woman get more and more drunk. With each drink they seem to strip too. Leaving a lot of half naked people around you.
Lucky stuck by your side for the first hour. Getting herself drinks. She had gone off to get drinks some more 20 minutes ago and hadnt returned. Hope stuck by your side though. Not drinking, joining you in a joint sober. You did start to enjoy yourself. You were planning on going for an hour but ended up staying for 2. Not a long time compafred to most people but for you, it was a lot of time to socialise.
So you bid your friend farewell. Telling her that you were grwing tired and would see her in class the following day. SHe agrees. Seeming happy that you had a good time. Sad to see you go but understood how introverted you are.
You head back to your dorm room. WHen you get there you see a tie firmly tied around the door handle. Now, you werent necersarily the most outgong person you knew. But you did know what that meant. So you turn tail. Annoyed that your friends had managed to convince you to not take your tote bag with you book in. You guess youd check the university library and see if they had anything in there to read.
Thankfully the library was run by book enthusiasts so was open 24/7. You go inside. Smiling at the lady at the desk as she smiles back to you. You idle down the rows of books. Seeing if any screamed out at you. You found one in the fantasy isle. Picking it up you turn it to read the blurb.
"Id recomoend this book instead" a voice says. Making you jump back at the suddeness of a male voice. You thought it was only you and the librarian (who was a female). "Sorry, didnt mean to startle you"
"No. No its fine. I just wasnt expecting anyine else to be here" you say. Now that you were over your initial scare you take a look at the man. Dark hair contrasting his vibrant blue eyes. Glasses sat comfortably on his nose as he wears a blazer over a vest shirt.
"I wasnt expectinh to see anyone else either. Normally its just me here reading up on studies". DUe to his youthful featrues yete his smart attire you couldnt tell if he meant in a professor or a student kind of study. He seemed to be able to tell your confusion as he continues speaking. "I work here". He outsteetches his hand towards you. "Professor Crane". Yiu take his hand.
"Luna. Like the moon. Ironic given that I often suffer from insomnia" he chuckles. "What do you study then professor?"
"Psychology"
"No way. My friend is studying that! Lucky... I dont know her last name"
"Yes. I know Lucky" he smiles. Obviously not overly impressed by the name drop. "WHat do you study then? Assuming you do come here and havnt just decided to sneak into a unis library"
"I stidy art. Not quite the level of psychology but still good fun".
"WHat made you come here rather then go out and party?"
"I was at a party but I decided to go back to my dorm". He looks around the library. "Oh no. There was a tie on my dorm door. I know how promiscous my roommate is so I just decided to leave her to it".
"Ahh. Well, if your wanting something to read whilst you wait then Id recomend this" he turns. Taking out a book from the shelf and handing it to you. You take it from him, turning it over to read the blurb. "Its a very good stroy line with some strong characters"
"Ive read this author before. Hes a good writer". You place it atop the oteer one youre still holding. "Ill add it to the pile"
"What book is that one?" he motions to the one your holding. "I saw you get it from the fantasy section"
"Its part of a series I read. Not read this one rhoufh. Its about an angel who solves crimes. Using his powers to force people to tell the truth"
"Sounds..."
"Utterly insane?"
"I was going to say interesting but yeah, that sums it uo better" he smiles. "I have taken up enough of your time. I imagine that you are wanting to get back to your reading. So I shall leave you to it Miss Luna. I hope you enjoy your books. And I hope tat your roommate lets you back into your dorm at some point tonight"
"If not then Im sure the librarian wont mind me camping out here" you joke. Causing him to let out a laugh. Adjusting his brief case before turning and walking out.
