(Don't Fear) The Scarecrow

Phantom|M [OneShot]

Request for _Myrule_ ! Sorry it took so long, and I hope it's ok!

This is once again, rated M for explicit content. Please be warned.

Prompt: Jonathan is unhealthy obsessed in y/n, but she thinks that he is a creep. So he broke into her house to show her how much he love her.

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Jonathan's POV

The feeling hits again, it's been weeks of having these strange things happening. I am getting tired of it. Not because it's annoying, rather, it drives me crazy. I can only think of (y/n), a woman of conceptual beauty and vitality. She is mine, but she doesn't know it yet. She will though... and soon.

We met by chance, one hot afternoon on the grounds of Arkham Asylum. Talking, I learned she'd only been there because her parents were rich snobs who worried (y/n) was getting 'too out of hand' in Gotham. They're wrong. (Y/n) is perfectly fine, completely sane, as much as one could be. Take it from me, the psychologist.

She stayed four months, an odd length of time for someone clearly seen as sane through the critical psychologists eye. We became friends. Sort of. We talked, about ourselves, about others, and all this time I was entranced by her. It wasn't just her physical features, but her mental ones as well. Her mind was as sharp as a tack, and the conversations we'd have... stunning. What one could expect from a philosophy major with a focus in epistemology. She'd always find ways to contradict my words and make me doubt myself. It was uncharted territory, and I loved the feeling of the unknown. I was not afraid, I am never afraid, but I was hungry for something different, something I'd never encountered before, and that was (y/n).

The last month something changed, (y/n) grew more distant. Would even flat out refuse to speak to me. I knew it was nothing I had done, rather, something dealing with her. Perhaps her doctor had something to do with it. I had Edward look into it for me, I know the habits and intentions of Dr. Hugo Strange more than I would like to admit. I worried for (y/n) after that. I obsessed. I craved. I just wanted her. I have memorized her schedule, after breaking out of Arkham I cashed in my favors owed to me by Edward. He found out everything I wished to know, and I harbor the knowledge as if I were a religious zealot, worshiping his goddess. I research and adapt, blending in yet standing out in places I know she frequents. She is meant to be mine, and nothing will get in the way of what I want. Nothing. Not even that punny so-called Rogue the public names Eros...

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"(Y/n)!" a voice yells, jerking you out of your thoughts.

Turning to face the person speaking, you internally groan when you find it to be your boss. They prop a hand on their hip and scrutinize you.

"Quit daydreaming for the hundredth time!" they snap, glaring at you. "You're this close to losing your job!" They hold their fingers an inch apart.

"You can't," you say, rolling your eyes, "I'm the only reliable person in this hellish place."

After you'd gotten out of Arkham after a year, the only place that would hire a "criminal" was a dingy coffee shop in the Narrows. You didn't even know there was one until you'd found it. Now you are stuck here, with nowhere else to go.