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thejokersenigma · 7 years

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Joker x Reader - One Shot Request - No one disrespects the Queen.

Hi guys,

Some I' really excited for this piece of writing because it's my very first request! Thank you to whoever posted this for me to do by the way - I like writing for someone!

This was the request:

Could you perhaps write a oneshot fanfiction with Joker where the reader is badly anorexic? I know it's a touchy subject it's just I personally am struggling with it and feel unlovable. Most people tell me I'm a skeleton and look disgusting. If you are willing too I'd really like to read something like that as I adore your work and reading your fanfics makes me happy. If not it's understandable... Like where J realises she never eats and sees how deathly she looks and tries to help her?

First of all, I was more than happy to write this because I myself have been through anorexia and so I really wanted to cheer this anon up in anyway I could. With that in mind I do apologise if you can't relate to this fic very well, I'm sure everyone who has anorexia goes through things differently, but ive written it the way that I went through by using what I felt and what I experienced.

Other point to make, this is not exactly like what the request asked for as it focuses more on the lack of energy etc. side of it and more of just before help, not the help techniques. If you would like a one shot more on what you asked for feel free to let me know and I'd happily write it but I got caught up in this storyline in my head and didn't want to make it 10,000 words by putting in anymore than what ive done here.

But like i'd said, I'm happy to carry it on if that's something people are interested in.

Sorry about the really long blab above ^^^ I'll get on with the story now.

MASTERLIST

One-shot MASTERLIST

WARNING: TRIGGERING! Please do not read if anything about anorexia is in anyway way triggering!!!! You have been warned! Pls don't put yourself through pain to read this! xxxxxx

You've been warned!

When I looked at my phone, the clock read nearly 4:30am.

There was a dim light in the room, the summer sun already having risen. I could feel a presence behind me as I lay in bed, and a quick glance over my shoulder confirmed my suspicions – my boyfriend was home.

He hadn’t been 2 hours earlier when - yet again - I had woken up, but now I turned over to watch him, his green hair - usual so neatly styled – dishevelled and fanning out around him on his pillow, his pallor face peaceful, and, though the rings under his eyes still dark, the features on his face were softer somehow.

He was beautiful in his own way, I thought as I admired him lying there. To some people his appearance was terrifying, others found him almost intoxicating. I was one of those. His vibrant red lips, only a short distance away, were addictive and even now I wanted to reach out and trace them. His eyes, hidden though they were in the dark under his eyes lids, were a captivating blue that could pierce into you and I had to stop myself from waking him just to see them.

I didn’t get to do this often. Just be with him. He was always busy doing something, sometimes I wondered if he acknowledged my existence at all or if I was just a convenience, available when he needed me, but otherwise not there.

When we were together I still didn’t feel like we stopped to savour anything, he was always such an urgent person, he didn’t savour many things. So I liked times like this, even is he wasn’t really part of this. I felt like I could step back and just admire him.

As I revelled in his perfectness, I couldn’t help the thoughts now turning to how much I wasn’t perfect. How I was nothing like the man before me. Personality or beauty.

So why was I here?

Why was I the one lying next to him in this huge queen-sized bed in his penthouse?

Was I just a convenience?

I was always waiting for the day he didn’t bring me back here. Or the day he just turned a gun on me. You’d think I’d be scared that this was technically a possibility, but it was weird, I had never felt in danger with him. He clearly trusted me, I thought as I watched his chest rise and fall rhythmically, or else he wouldn’t put himself in such a vulnerable position with me.

But why?

There was nothing about me particularly enticing, nothing to draw someone in – I was a plain girl, untalented, chubby, ungraceful and nothing compared to what he could have.

The minute I once more turned my thoughts down this path, I could feel the invasive thoughts taking other once again, That’s right. The voice said to me, you need to be better. They were right and I was now painfully aware of how many hours I had been lying in the bed. I had to be better.

I rolled back over, sitting up and about to swing my legs over the edge when I felt a strong, muscular arm wrap around my waist and pull me backwards.

My head landed on the Joker’s solid chest and I heard the sleepy mumble close to my ear. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Can’t sleep.” I replied, pulling against his restraint. The voice in my head was louder now. Demanding. I needed to be on my feet now or else I was lazy. Failing.

I pulled against my restraint, almost violently, and J wasn’t expecting it so he released me. I moved back to the end of the bed, immediately pushing myself to my feet. I hugged my arms against myself, instantly freezing when I got out of the warm bed - even in the middle of July. I noticed movement behind me and I turned to see the Joker making a move to get out of bed as well.

“No J.” I told him, leaning over my side of the bed and placing my hand on his chest – immediately the invasive thoughts were back, battling with each. Was this bad? Am I using energy if I’m not supporting my full weight on my legs? But I’m using my arm muscles to keep myself up – so that’s alright – I’m just using different muscles. “You need to sleep.” I said, trying not to show the inner battle inside me.

“And so do you doll.” He retorted grumpily.

“I went to bed early.” I lied, watching him carefully, begging him in my mind to believe me. “J, I’m fine.” I insisted, “Just because I can’t sleep doesn’t me you shouldn’t.” He stared back at me, his eyes clear and penetrating even in the darkness of the room and I was worried he would see through my lie and put up a fight.

He dropped back down onto the bed without a word, turning over so he wasn’t facing me. That hurt a bit, but I was glad he was letting me go. I didn’t hang around, leaving him to get some rest as I walk out the room in silence, grabbing and jumper and then closing the door as quietly as possible behind me.

I wandered from room to room slowly as I pulled my hoody over my head – it was 2 sizes too big for me now.

I didn’t know what to do with myself.

I had all these extra hours now that I didn’t sleep as long, yet nothing to do with them.

I tried to remember what I used to do, but few things appealed to me anymore.

I remembered I used to read a lot, book after book – sometimes finishing a huge novel in a day if I got really into it. Now nothing seemed to hold my attention for long – it was too much effort to get invested in a book and pay attention to it.

I remembered once wanting to write. Now had no imagination, and no will to sit at a computer for hours at a time. Besides I couldn’t now - I would have to stand.

Instead I turned to one of the few activities that I found myself enjoying now – so much so it was what usually got me through the day – watching the cooking channel.

It sounded lame, but for some reason I loved it and found it fascinating. I made my way to the living room, switching on the TV, not surprised when it was already on the right channel (J didn’t watch much TV – he was too busy). And so I watched rerun after rerun of a cooking competition, enthralled in the concoctions and the food porn on the screen.

I didn’t sit on the expensive sofas that graced the high-end flat though, instead I stood, leaning on the back of the chair until I realised maybe I ought not to be leaning – the voice telling me that it wasn’t doing enough – and I reluctantly pushed myself up so that my leg supported my full weight, my feet already protesting.

No pain, no gain, I thought, shifting my weight from foot to foot to try to relieve the ache a bit. After a while I pulled out my phone and returned to my second favourite pastime – looking at websites for health tips, weight loss tricks and recipes.

I don’t know how long I stood there flicking through tabs and watching Jamie Oliver teach me to roast a Turkey just right (it was a Christmas special on in the middle of July) – probably at least an hour before I couldn’t ignore the pain in my feet anymore and I needed to move.

So I switched to the last thing in my repertoire of hobbies – cooking.

So the rest of the my very early morning was spent cooking up a breakfast for J and any henchman that had to stop by the flat for business.

The oven clock read 8am when I finally allowed myself to have my first meal of the day. (I was ready to eat at 7:56, but it had to be exactly 8 before I allowed myself anything – otherwise the voice told me I’d get too hungry too quickly). I prepped my food – an apple – cut into the thinnest slices I could manage so I felt like I was eating more – and weighed it – 50g = 26 calories. I typed this into my calorie counting app on my phone then proceeded to remove 10g from the scales and threw them into the bin - just to be safe that I wasn’t definitely eating no more than 26 calories.

When I had remeasured the food at least 2 more times to check it was definitely the number I had read I finally allowed myself to sit down on one of the kitchen stools and eat.

I ate away at the thin pieces of fruit, trying my best to eat slowly and make the most of the food, cursing to myself that I couldn’t have waited until later to eat. The problem with getting up early was I had to acknowledge the hunger earlier - if I managed to sleep later, I could eat later. That then meant that got hungry later and might even be able to skip lunch.

I suddenly felt a shiver wrack through my body even with my oversized jumper and thick pyjamas, and I yearned for a hot drink to warm me up a bit. I could smell the coffee beans that J had from the other side of the room. Even as I considered the temptation of making a cup I was doing the calculations in my head. I couldn’t afford the calories – all 2-9 of them (depending on who you asked) I always counted each cup as 18 calories because that was the highest result I had gotten when I had searched it and I couldn’t risk being wrong.

So instead I stood back up, my feet immediately sore again, and boiled the kettle, pouring myself a mug of hot water. This would do I thought as I sipped at the hot water. It felt wonderful.

My breakfast finished, and still no movement from J, I thought about what to do now. Today was my day off my usual work out – but that didn’t mean it was my day off exercise. I didn’t want to wake J up, but I needed to get out of my pyjamas so I dug around till I found the pile of laundry, clean but not ironed.

I changed in a bathroom down the hall, pulling a fleece over my goosebump riddled arms. I couldn’t believe it was July. Must be global warming or something.

I took the private elevator down to the ground floor and then headed across the large entrance way to the exit. I got a few weird looks on the way out of the building but most of the people around at this time of morning on a Tuesday were business men rushing to meetings and I was too self-conscious to keep much of my gaze higher than the floor immediately in front of me.

I said I would go for a walk. Told myself I would. But I knew I was really going for a run. The good thing about running was – besides the obvious calorie burning – I could run past people before I caught them staring at me.

I started running the minute I stepped onto the pavement. I ran and ran until I couldn’t anymore. Then I would slow to a walk for a few moments before I ran again. I continued this the whole run. I couldn’t run any less than the last time – it always had to be the exact same or more. If it was more – then I would have to meet that next time.

I ran for a good hour. 1:13 to be exact. I did a circuit so I ended up back at the suite.

It was only when I walked back into the pent house, still catching my breath, that I realised the door to the bedroom was open and, when I looked in, the bed was empty. J must have finally got up and probably now working – I wondered if he found the food I’d made him.

I moved to the bathroom, turning on the shower and undressing, having to pause for a moment when I felt a wave of light-headedness wash over me. I sat on the side of the large bath tub, soon letting myself slip off and sink to the tiled floor, my knees folded into my chest and my head in my hands as I tried to breathe evenly, momentarily terrified something bad was happening to me.

I kept breathing myself through it – maybe I’d been overdoing it recently? After a few moments, everything felt fine once more and I pushed myself wearily to my feet – the voice in my head only justifying that I could sit that long thanks to the run I had just done.

Standing upright made me feel woozy again but I persevered anyway, slipping into the shower and moving slowly until I felt a bit better – though it was probably the speed I always moved. Everything I did was now was slow. But everyone had days like that right? When you didn’t have the energy or motivation to move any faster than one slow pace. That was just life – I just happen to do it a lot lately – but was it really slow after all – was I just being silly?

As I stood pondering this I felt cold arms wrap my stomach. I flinched at the contact on an area I felt sensitive about, gasping in surprise, at jumping at the cold touch. “Jeez, doll, this water is boiling.” I spun around to come face to face with the Joker still fully clothed, behind me.

“What are you doing?” I asked in disbelief looking at his shirt which hung open as though he had been in the middle of getting dressed, the water now soaking into the sleeves.

“Trying to see if my little kitten wanted to get hot in a different way then pouring lava on her skin.” He growled teasingly with a wide grin on his face, his hands trailing over my skin and making me goose bump in a non-sexual way. I couldn’t help but shiver against him.

“Ooo doll, do that again.” The Joker purred, pulling me closer so I was pressed against his muscular chest, his cold skin against mine seeming to pull the heat from my body.

“No, J.” I said almost harshly, pushing away from him and stepping back under the powerful shower, hugging my arms to myself and embracing the heat that washed over me.

“Excuse me, doll?” Asked J incredulously, his grin dropping and his eyes becoming dark – like they did when anyone refused him something. But I trusted him to control himself around me.

“I’m sorry J,” I apologised none the less - I didn’t like disappointing him. “I’m just not in the mood.”

He grumbled something indistinctly, his eyes still dangerous, and left in a huff. I was left standing alone in the shower, even colder than before.

We didn’t really clash for the rest of the day – mostly, I believed, because J did his usual of shutting himself away in the office all day as he carried out his business.

Our relative peace only lasted till that evening however, when J asked invited me to go with him to the club for the evening.

“No thanks, J.” I said, giving my familiar answer as I lounged on the sofa (my first sit down in over 2 hours).

He frowned, his eyes darkening immediately again, not that I noticed – I wasn’t looking at him. He didn’t say anything in reply but he didn’t move either. I had expected him to get his answer and leave – maybe in a huff, but I didn’t have the energy to care. When he didn’t however I turned my head to look at him, frowning at him in question.

“It wasn’t a request this time, doll.” He growled at me in warning.

I was shocked by what he was saying, was he forcing me to go out? “I don’t want to go, J.” I told him calmly, but with a sternness to it.

“I don’t care what you want, doll.” He purred dangerously.

“You can’t force me to go out with you.” I told him, but my voice faltered slightly under his gaze and I knew I could feeling my pulse under my skin. He was starting to scare me.

“Kitten,” He warned, “you’re pushing me and I’m not sure you want to.” There was no smile on his face, his lips a dark red and pressed into a thin line, his eyes looked fierce.

I was frightened now, J hadn’t been like this with me before. Had I pissed him off? I was always worried because of my low mood that I was being moody or annoying to people, but I couldn’t never seem to do anything about.

Now I was stuck in my own mind. I hated that I was letting J down by not wanting to go with him, but I was tired – physically and mentally exhausted. The voice seemed confused too. If I went to the club then I the movement was burning more calories than staying here. But I hated the feeling of exhaustion I got when I was out in public and the fact I would have to make it through the whole night trying to look alive, whilst also coming up with a new reason why I couldn’t have one of the club’s cocktails. J had already asked me several times if I was pregnant. I wasn’t willing to say yes to that to get out of a drink – not yet anyway.

But I hadn’t been to the club in over a month now. J went nearly every night to one or another of his businesses.

I didn’t know what to say to J now. He was still frightening me and I was scared to push him further and unsure what I could say to placate him. All that was running through my head at the moment was the same lame excuses as to why I didn’t want to go – I’m too tired, I don’t even drink, you don’t need me there, it’s not like I’ll do anything but sit and wait for you to finish anyway. I knew J didn’t care about my excuses.

I couldn't meet his eyes anymore, keeping my gaze down. He couldn't stop glaring darkly at me and - if I looked at him now - I was sure I would see the anger darkening his eyes to a stormy blue.

When the silence between us became too much, and I had to look up at him just to try to gage what he was feeling, it was worse than I thought. I was worried what I was seeing was not truly anger, but hurt, as though he was in some sort of pain.

That sight burned me, broke me, and I had to look away, concentrating back onto the thick carpet under my socks, tracing the pattern with my eyes.

“I’m sorry, J” I mumbled at the floor.

“You’re sorry?” He whined, mimicking me cruelly. “You’re sorry?" he asked again. “Your apologies are like cheesy pop songs doll, they just keep playing till people are sick of them!” He sneered.

I didn't know what to say to that - clearly an apology wouldn't be right - so I continued to stare at the floor. It was comfier like this. I liked the fact my neck hung loose, no energy needed to hold it up. I liked the fact I was collapsed on the sofa, all day I wished I could have done it.

“Look at you.” he snarled venomously, gesturing to me as I sat - probably looking like a rejected puppet collapsed against the arm of the sofa and lost amongst the many layers of baggy jumpers and hoodies I wore, "pathetic."

"You’re weak.” He spat, “No spark, no flare, no energy. What is the use of you anymore?" he demanded.

I shook my head at the carpet, each word stabbing and shooting through me like he was firing the weapons I knew were in his pockets. What was the point in me? What was my use anymore? I could feel the tears forming in my eyes and I tried to hold back the tide that now threatened to overwhelm me, covering my face with my hands as if somehow that might help to hold it all back.

“Pathetic.” He snarled again before he spun around and stormed out of the room, leaving me curled into the sofa, no longer able to hold back the emotions. I let out one hiccupping sob and then everything poured out until I was blubbering into the expensive sofa arm.

It wasn’t long before I heard the roar of an engine and the screech of wheel that told me the Joker had left and a new, more intense wave washed over until I was gripping fists of my hair and pulling in misery and frustration.

In a moment of mental clarity, I had a thought.

What was happening to me?

I went to bed early that night, unable to concentrate on anything but on low I was feeling. How nothing was right. How I was starving and wanted food. How I was in pain and hated my workouts, dreaded them every day. How I hated that I hurt people around me – especially J. I didn’t blame him for going off on me, everything he said had been true. I was weak, I was pathetic.

With all these things replaying in my head I slept fitfully that night – never seeming to manage for than 30 minutes before I was awoken by my own mind.

That was why - when the Joker finally returned to the suite at 4am the following morning - I was lying awake. Hungry, thirsty, depressed and stressed, yet too exhausted to anything about any of these things, I just lay staring up at the ceiling in the dark.

When I heard the front door open I knew it would have to be him – security was tight around here, very tight. Not even a henchman was allowed up here if he wasn’t here. None the less I panicked and my every sense focused on his movements through the pent house as I tried to detect when he was getting close to the room.

After a few long agonising minutes, the hallway light was switched on illuminating the outline of the door directly in front of me. I heard the door open and one crack of light enlarged as the bedroom door opened to reveal J’s dark shadow in the doorway. I blinked at the sudden brightness that filled the room.

The silence between us stretched on. I didn’t move and neither did J.

I could have pretended to sleep. Delayed the conversation, maybe even removed the chance to have it.

But I was tired, achy, depressed and starving.

“Help me.” I whimpered into the dark.

I thought the shadow would leave me then. Turn and walk away from the pitiful girl lying on the bed, unable to find anything within her to even sit up. All I do was wait for the shadow to leave the doorway and for the sound of receding footsteps.

But they didn’t.

The shadow moved, but not away. It came into the room, his steps softened by the thick carpet underfoot. I closed my eyes, no longer sure I wanted to do this now.

The next thing I knew I was being scooped up by strong arms and pulling me upright with very little effort until I was cradled in his arms. His chest was hard and cold, but I found it comforting and solid.

“I thought you would have left.” He murmured so quietly I almost couldn’t hear.

I shook my head – hard as it was to do when I was pressed so tightly to his chest.

“The one time, kitten, that the I’m glad you’re not like you use to be.” He said, and I pulled my head up to look him in the eyes, frowning with confusion.

“The old you would never had let me get away with the shit I said to you, doll. You would have up and left whilst preaching about some right you had or something.” He chuckled quietly to himself. I just cuddled back into his solid chest, showing him in my own silent way that I had no intention to leave. His arms tightened around me even more.

We stayed like that in silence for a while, happy to be in each-others company. It was what I had always wanted between us – for him to slow down for a moment, and I guess I needed to as well. It was a rare kind of sincerity with the Joker.

“I just want to be perfect for you J.” I finally admitted, lifting my head slightly so I could speak.

He didn’t say anything and I wondered if he heard me. I buried once more, embarrassed for confessing something so personal when he didn’t even care to listen.

“You think I would waste my time on someone who wasn’t already perfect?” He asked, and I felt the vibration of his voice through his chest, it comforted me.

I pulled myself away from him again so I could look up at his face, “But your always around all those pretty girls at the club – I’m nothing like them.” I pointed out.

“You don’t think I know that, doll?” He demanded with a frown and I let my head drop – he was annoyed that I wasn’t like them then. “I’m glad you’re not, doll. I’ve been around those sorts of girls for a very long time and none of them have ever come home with me.” He told me, “The first night I saw you I made sure you did.” There was a another pause of silence, both of us lost in our own minds. “That was a long time ago though.” J reminisced, “A time when you looked very different.”

“But why - ?” I pressed, confused by what he was saying – it didn’t make sense to me.

“Because doll, I chose you for more than you’re looks – which I hasten to add are more than adequate!” He said hotly, as though annoyed at my continual denial of this, “And I’ll be sure to correct you when you say otherwise.” He added. “But doll, the first thing I saw with you wasn’t your killer dress or your murderous curves,” He purred teasingly, running his hands up my body as he still held me upright and I squirmed under his touch, uncharacteristically trying to hold back giggles, “it was your personality, your humour, your energy. All of which you are now severely lacking in, kitten.” He pointed out.

At least words any happiness I had built being with him crumbled. “I’m a failure.” I blubbered, feeling myself close to sobbing again.

“You’re not a failure doll,” J said, almost softly, though there was firmness to his voice, “I’m afraid you’re just sane.” He said solemnly, “It’s a terrible disease that grips you – it makes you care too much, it makes you gullible, it makes you greedy for something better and never content to revel in the present.” He rattled off passionately. He switched his arm placement around me so he supported me with only one arm, the other he brought up to my face and tenderly wiped away the tears on my cheeks, “It’s a terrible disease,” He repeated, “It always makes you look for the reason to cry, not to laugh.” He added with a sad smile that I could just make out in the poor lighting.

I gave him a weak smile in return, probably looking a state even in the darkness, and my smile dropped again at the thought. J must have noticed because he moved his hand from my cheek to my chin, tilting my face up so I looked at him in the eye. “That why I’m here though, doll.” He said with a small smile, “I’m the opposite of you, you’re my sanity doll, and I’m your crazy.” He purred lowly, tilting my face more and pulling me up as he leant down and he kissed me.

“I’ll help you.” He promised, “No one disrespects my Queen, especially not the Queen herself.”

tags: @carouselcurls

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j-wont-stop · 3 years

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"The Scarred" Masterlist

Summary - Penelope Bishop works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by therapy and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine (in progress)

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loverhymeswith · 3 years

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What a Wicked Game | One

[Rick Flag x OC]

Word Count: 4,395

A/N: This fic was born because Rick Flag deserved better. And I have been truly inspired by all the amazing Rick fic already out there. You guys are giving me life. I haven't written anything like this for a long time, so I just hope I can do the man justice.

Rick.

Rick Flag is no stranger to putting himself in mortal peril.

He’s the leader of the goddamn Suicide Squad after all. Fighting his way out of deadly situations is just another day in the office. Still, this might be the most reckless thing he’s ever done.

One thing’s for certain, Amanda Waller is going to kill him.

That is, if Gotham’s Clown Prince of Crime doesn’t beat her to it.

Nothing gets past Amanda “The Wall” Waller, least of all the meta-human inmates of Belle Reve Correctional Facility. The nano-bombs implanted in their brains are supposed to ensure that. And yet here’s Rick, driving through the back streets of Gotham City in the dead of night, with one of Waller’s very own meta-human prisoners by his side.

For some time now he’s been promising the woman next to him that he’s going to take care of things, make things right. But as they approach their destination, he’s beginning to doubt his ability to deliver.

The odds are stacked against him in every direction.

He only has a few hours until Waller notices not all her toys are back in their box. And here Rick is, about to make a deal with the Devil.

He glances over at his passenger. Her head rests against the window of his Jeep; strands of her silver-blonde hair have escaped their braid, framing the soft angles of her face. On nights like this her name seems incredibly fitting.

Her eyes are closed, but he can tell Angel’s not sleeping. Just like Rick, she can never sleep after a mission. Strung out but still wired with adrenaline, knowing her freedom is slipping away with every passing second.

All Task Force X missions are tough. It’s the very reason the covert black-ops team exists in the first place; why Rick was assigned as their leader. They’re here to take care of the shit that no-one else wants to deal with. Why get your hands dirty when the Suicide Squad can do it for you?

This mission was worse than usual. They’re bloody and bruised; broken physically and mentally, and down three team members less than when they started. Rick hates losing any team members, even if most of them are convicted felons who are far more concerned with saving their own skin than the success of the assignment.

Angel is different though.

She’s still a convicted felon, with a fair share of blood on her hands, but like Rick, she puts her life on the line time and again. Gets him out of some real scraps. And for what? Twelve meagre hours of freedom for each successful mission. A sliver of reward for not dying. It’s not good enough.

It will never be good enough.

And it’s been building up for a while now, this reckless desire of Rick’s.

Each time he escorts her back to the cell, he can feel Angel losing another piece of herself. Belle Reve does that to a person. He would know. He spends enough time with its inmates to see it first-hand. How the prison slowly chips away at your sanity, until the person you once were becomes nothing more than splinters in the wind.

Only the truly crazy seem to survive Belle Reve. Harley’s proof of that.

So, Rick needs to get Angel out of Belle Reve and Task Force X before it’s too late, and he’s convinced himself that tonight must be the night.

Angel finally shifts beside him, pulling his attention away from the road.

“Where are we going tonight, Rick?” She asks hoarsely, eyes still shut. Angry purple bruises bloom around her throat. A reminder of how close they came to failing. How close he came to losing her.

His fingers grip the steering wheel a fraction tighter.

It’s become a habit, these late-night, post-mission drives. Ever since Waller assigned him as Angel’s chaperone – a stipulation of the twelve-hour bargain.

Angel likes being on the road. She tells him she finds the gentle hum of the engine calming. The soft rumble of tires on the highway sooths her fraying nerves. The neon signs and gleaming headlights remind her there is a world away from Belle Reve, away from the endless death and destruction.

Rick enjoys the company.

Just the two of them. Going as far as her curfew will allow, never the same place twice.

Except for tonight.

He doesn’t want to lie to her, but he doesn’t want to tell her the truth either. Not just yet. Because after tonight, everything’s going to change.

He’s also not entirely sure she’ll want to go along with his plan once she knows who’s involved. Hell, even Harley tried warning him against this. But Rick is all out of options.

“Rick?” She grumbles. He hasn’t replied yet.

“We’re getting that damn thing out of your head, darlin’. You’ve just got to trust me, ok?”

Angel’s eyes fly open. Alarmed, her bright blue gaze settles on him. “Tonight?”

They’ve talked about it before, sure, about breaking Waller’s diabolical hold over her, but she’s never really believed he’s being serious. It’s always seemed like more of a pipedream than anything truly possible.

She underestimates just how strongly Rick feels.

“Can’t wait any longer. Nearly lost you back there.”

Today was a wake-up call if ever he needed one. The missions are becoming deadlier, the squad crazier, Waller more powerful. It’s time for Angel to get out.

After his relationship with June ended, Rick swore off love. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s not even sure if it really was love, but it hurt like hell when she left, and he doesn’t want to feel like that ever again.

Whatever he feels for Angel is different, but it scares the shit out of him all the same. It’s not love, at least he doesn’t think so. Hopes it isn’t. All he knows is that he can’t let anything happen to her. Can’t let anything else happen to her.

He drags his gaze from the road again to find her watching him intently, her bright blue eyes reflecting the glow of the passing headlights. His own eyes wander back to the finger-shaped bruises around her delicate neck.

“Is this about earlier? It wasn’t your fault you know.”

Rick shakes his head. She’s wrong.

He’d been distracted. Careless. Forgot to switch off the goddamn power dampeners.

The chopper had barely landed when they were ambushed. Someone had sold them out. But that was a problem for another day. Because Angel had been caught by those assholes, and she couldn’t even protect herself. The most valuable member of the squad, the only one of them with the gift of life as well as death, and he’d left her weak and defenceless.

Rick hadn’t bothered to stop Waylon from tearing the bastards in half when he got his claws on them.

He grits his jaw, eyes returning to the road ahead. He doesn’t deserve this - her kindness, her understanding.

“It’s my job to protect you. I failed.”

Because he’s their leader. Colonel Rick Flag. He’s responsible for the outcome of every mission, for making the difficult decisions, keeping the delinquents in line, ensuring no one is left behind.

When Angel replies, the resolve in her voice killshim. “You didn’t fail. I’m here. We’re both here, in one piece.”

“But for how much longer?” he asks her, gruffly. “It’s only a matter of time before our luck runs out. One day there’ll be no more close calls, no more second chances. Look at what happened to…”

“Rick.” She sighs.

He knows she worries when he gets like this. Anxious. Agitated. Agonising over the deaths he feels he could have prevented. Should have prevented.

“You can’t save everyone.”

How many times has he heard that? Logically, he knows it to be true. Doesn’t make it any easier though. Waller says he just wants to play the hero. Surrounded by villains day in and day out, maybe she’s right.

And maybe he can’t save everyone.

But he can save Angel.

“Seriously, where are we going?”

She still doesn’t believe him. Thinks she can change the subject and distract him from his melancholy. Usually, it works. But not tonight.

His stomach, his skin, every inch of his body is crawling with snakes, spiders and all manner of horrid things as he thinks about what he needs to do. He can feel Angel’s eyes on him, but he keeps his own fixed firmly on the road. Can’t bring himself to see the look on her face when he tells her.

Rick tries to clear the lump in his throat as he makes a turn off the main road. “We’re payin’ a visit to an old friend of Harley’s…”

They’ve reached the worst part of Gotham now, so he knows it’s not far. That is, if Harley’s scribbled directions are correct. He can’t quite put his finger on when exactly he started trusting the former psychiatrist, but now’s not the time for doubt.

Speaking of which, he tunes out the tiny inner voice that’s been screaming all night this is a terrible idea. It might be a terrible idea, but it’s the only one he’s got.

“Harley?” It only takes a beat of silence before he senses Angel stiffen. The penny drops. “You don’t mean…?”

He nods once.

She turns in her seat and for a moment he thinks she’s going to grab the wheel. Or him. The power dampeners have long since been discarded. She could put a stop to this right now if she wanted to. All it takes is one touch.

“What the hell, Rick!? Have you lost your mind?”

Probably, he thinks, but it’s too late to worry about that now. They’ve almost arrived.

“You’re gonna have to trust me darlin’. This is our only choice.”

He slows the car to a crawl, peering out of the window into the mist covered night. After the prison, Gotham is one of his least favourite places. Always feels like he’s stepping into a nightmare. Difference is, tonight the nightmare’s coming true.

“No, it’s not.” She protests. “We can go back to Belle Reve.”

“You are not going back there.” He’s gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“Rick.” Angel reaches for him, her fingers brushing the back of his hand.

It’s only the slightest of touches, but he doesn’t flinch at the contact anymore. He still isn’t quite used to it though and she knows it. She’s always so careful around him. He trusts she won’t hurt him, but it’s not natural, you know, what she can do with that touch.

“What about giving me a choice?”

Rick’s boot comes down on the footbrake, her question demanding his full attention.

She has a point. How is he any better than Waller right now? Forcing Angel into a plan of his own making with no thought as to what she might want. This isn’t the person he wants to be.

“I’m sorry, I just…” He sighs, searching for the right words in his scrambled-up brain. He’s always found it difficult to articulate himself, to explain his emotions. Just knows he feels too much sometimes. “I can’t stand you being locked up in that place. It’s not right. You’re too… good.”

“But isn’t he worse than Waller? How can we trust him?”

She stares at him with those big blue eyes, and he feels his chest tighten, finds it harder to breathe. Where did all the oxygen go?

“Do you trust me?” His voice is rough and rasping, thick with emotion. He hopes she doesn’t notice. He’s always been careful to conceal his feelings around her. Whatever those feelings might be.

“Yes, but…”

He takes one hand off the wheel and without thinking reaches out to grip her fingers tightly. The absolute contact sends shockwaves through his body, but it has nothing to do with her gift.

It’s the first time he’s touched her like this, without the power dampeners on.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Angel.

Despite her better judgement, Angel allows Rick to coax her out of the car. She can tell something’s been bothering him for a while now, even before the disastrous mission. He’s been quieter, more angsty than usual. She knows better than to pry though. He’s never been one for sharing his feelings. And it’s never been her business.

Until now.

Now it is quite literally her business. If she’d known all this time that he was concocting an insane plan to remove the nano-bomb implanted in the base of her skull she would have…well…she’d have tried talking some sense into him.

The problem with Rick is that he’s like a dog with a bone. Stubborn, determined, unwilling to admit defeat. A martyr. Because this ridiculous idea of his might just get them both killed.

But he’s asked her to trust him. She can do that, surely? She puts her life in his hands on every mission and when has he ever let her down? No matter what he thinks, today wasn’t his fault.

She follows Rick along a dimly lit alley that smells like death, through a pair of rusting iron gates and into the loading yard of an abandoned warehouse.

Yes.

She’s going to trust him.

With every step forward her panic rises, but somehow she manages to hold it together. Because if she’s honest with herself she wants this too. Wants to be free, from Belle Reve, from Waller, from wondering each day if it’s going to be her last.

She hangs back while Rick knocks loudly on a boarded-up door. Someone has gone to great lengths to make the place look deserted. She’s always pictured something…flashier. Then again, what villain in their right mind would want to advertise their secret lair with a billboard sign and flashing lights?

Then she remembers.

This villain isn’t in their right mind.

Somewhere above them a flood light switches on, bathing the yard in a sickly yellow glow. The door swings open on invisible hinges, revealing a pair of tall figures in matching black suits. Angel’s not sure what’s worse, the hideous fanged grins painted on their masked heads, one black and one white, or the huge automatic guns pointing at her and Rick.

She takes a step back involuntarily, but Rick doesn’t move, just stares back at the monstrous pair, shoulders squared as he speaks.

“Tell your boss that Rick Flag is here to see him.”

The figures exchange a look with one another. At least, she thinks it’s a look. Hard to tell given the fact that there are no eyes in those hideous masks.

“Rick…” She edges closer to him, conscious of the figures watching her every move. Rick’s not a small man, but these freaks dwarf even him.

Before she can beg him to turn around and leave, the white mask lurches forwards and grabs Rick roughly by the shoulder. Pushes him inside without saying a word, leaving Black Mask with a clear path to Angel.

To hell with this, she thinks, holding up her hand as the creature starts to prowl towards her. “Don’t bother, I’m coming.”

Angel finds herself bundled inside what appears to be the inner loading dock. A flickering tube light illuminates the small area and her eyes dart around, searching for Rick. Her relief at finding him is short lived though, as White Mask has him up against the wall while Black Mask begins to relieve him of his weapons.

If it wasn’t for the perilous circumstance, Angel would find it amusing, the number of firearms and blades Rick manages to conceal about his person. The assault rifle remains in the Jeep, but he has a pair of handguns in his shoulder holster, two Glocks tucked into his waistband and at least one knife in each boot.

Once Rick is completely unarmed, the freaks move on to Angel.

“It’s ok Rick. Here.” She pulls her own single gun from the waist of her bloodied combat trousers and hands it over to White Mask. It’s never been much use to her, even after all the lessons from Deadshot. She just doesn’t have the coordination.

“She’s not armed,” Rick insists, putting himself between the masks and Angel.

He seems to forget they still have their own guns trained on him and one wrong move might put a swift end to this great scheme of his.

Her skills are more… unique. But less precise.

Perhaps she should have told Rick to put the power dampeners back on. She doesn’t want to cause a major incident by accidentally taking out one of these henchmen.

After Rick’s little exhibition, the freaks are taking no chances and they proceed to pat her down roughly. She takes a deep breath. Reminds herself she is here by choice. It’s not like before. Before Belle Reve. Before the Suicide Squad. She’s a different person now. She’s in control.

Isn’t she?

The moment the radio falls silent, both masked freaks separate out. Despite their size, they move startlingly fast. Before Angel can react, Rick is being manhandled out of the room by White Mask.

Satisfied the pair are unarmed, one of the freaks produces a radio from somewhere about his person and the sound of crackling static fills the air. An alien-like voice proceeds to splutter out a series of incomprehensible commands.

Angel glances over at Rick who looks just as bewildered. His hazel eyes are wide, wary. The brightest thing in this dark room. She focuses on those eyes. Uses them to keep her grounded. Reminds herself he’s got her back.

Always.

She shouts after him, afraid. Doesn’t want to be left alone. Doesn’t know where he’s being taken. Tries to follow, but the door slams shut in her face.

Probably not.

In pain staking slow motion the black-masked figure turns to look at her. Again, she assumes he’s looking at her, because you know, no eyes.

Distantly, she wonders if he’s ever allowed to take off the mask. In fact, as she’s trapped there in the claustrophobic loading dock, she starts to wonder a lot of things. Like whether she can reach Black Mask’s heart before he can pull the trigger.

And where would that leave her? Where would it leave Rick, who’s bargaining away goodness knows what to secure her a future she’s not even sure she deserves.

A large hand grabs her roughly by the shoulder and shoves her out of the dock. Marches her forwards until they reach the centre of the room, where, surrounded by an assortment of disturbingly masked figures, stands Rick.

It’s hard to say how much time passes, but when a sharp whistle finally pierces the cloying silence, Angel nearly jumps out of her skin. Ever the obedient lackey, Black Mask opens the door that Rick disappeared through, revealing a wide-open chamber, presumably once the centre of the old warehouse.

Fluorescent green lights have been installed, casting the area in a sickly glow. She should be terrified, but all she can think about is Rick. How much she needs to see him again, needs to know he’s ok.

Any relief she feels about him still being in one piece soon shatters when her eyes land on the individual next to him.

The Joker.

Here before her, in the flesh, for the very first time.

He’s shorter than she expected.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Amanda Waller’s very own ‘Angel of Death’.”

Rick moves to take a step towards her, but the Clown Prince stops him with a swift hand to the chest. “Colonel Flag, you didn’t tell me that it was this particular meta-human you want to save.”

When Rick doesn’t reply, the Joker flashes him a menacing grin. “Whatever happened to June Moone?”

Angel isn’t surprised to hear June’s name on the Joker’s lips. Of course, he’s keeping tabs on the Suicide Squad, especially after Midway City. After Harley. He probably hates the idea that she’s finally made something of herself without him.

Angel doesn’t like the flicker of pain in Rick’s eyes. She knows how much it still hurts him to think about June. After everything he went through – they went through – to bring her back.

Rick growls. “I told you we have a time limit, Clown. Are you going to help or not?”

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Flag.” The Joker cackles, his pale green eyes gleaming with barely concealed excitement as his cronies close in around Rick.

Narcissistic bastard.

The green menace stalks towards Angel and she notices for the first time his immaculate attire. Crisp white shirt loosely buttoned, offering a glimpse of tattoos; their dark lines harsh against his sallow skin. Black dress pants, gold rings on every finger.

For a sadistic psychopath, he seems to take an awful amount of pride in his appearance.

Pausing a few feet away, the Joker cocks his head. A predator sizing up his prey. “It’s only polite to get to know someone before cutting their brain open. Wouldn’t you agree, Angel?”

Her mouth falls open, his words dousing her in fear. “Wh…what?”

Rick elbows his way through the goons and plants himself between Angel and the Joker. The thick, muscled wall of his body a welcome shield. “He’s lying.”

Before Rick can elaborate or the Joker can disagree, another figure enters the room.

Unlike the rest of the henchmen, this one is unmasked.

Familiar.

Wearing a white lab coat.

“Is that...?”

“Dr. Van Criss.” The Joker leers. “Yes, you might well recognise him as the very man responsible for putting that bomb in your head in the first place. Fortunate that he works for me now, don’t you think?”

This is Rick’s plan; Angel realises with a jolt. How long has he known that Van Criss is on the Joker’s payroll?

They’ve all heard the rumours: that after the scientist was blackmailed into removing Harley’s bomb, he disappeared from A.R.G.U.S. Some say he was terminated by Waller. Not a huge stretch of the imagination after experiencing first-hand what she did to her team in Midway City.

But no, the doctor lives. He’s probably just too great an asset for the Joker to let go of. All those government secrets squirreled away inside his brain.

There’s something just too easy about this though, Angel thinks. After all, nothing comes for free. Especially not in Gotham. Not from the Joker.

What’s the price?

She wants to ask, but the Joker side-steps Rick with a flourish and his lean arm comes to hover over around her shoulders.

Almost touching. But not quite.

Is he… scared?

He leans in close, his bitter breath tickling her cheek as he croons. “Tell me, Angel. Can you really kill a man with one touch?”

Angel ducks out of his almost-embrace and bares her teeth. “Would you like to find out?”

She could do it.

And that’s what really kills.

She could stop his heart if she wanted to. Could leave him dizzy and sweating, stricken and gasping for breath, until the very last minute. And then, if she’s feeling generous, bring him back from the brink of death.

It’s a shame his goons would get to her first.

Because she needs time. That’s the thing. Time to constrict the arteries, time to squeeze the air from his lungs.

Everyone thinks it’s instant, this gift of hers. That all it takes is one touch. Even Rick. It’s why he’s so reluctant to touch her.

What he doesn’t realise is that there’s never been anything to worry about.

Angel’s control over her power has always been tentative at best. That’s how she ended up in Belle Reve; let her emotions gets the better of her. But the human body is a complex machine, and sure, she might be able to quicken a pulse here, or heal a scratch there, but it takes a huge amount of concentration, will power, raw emotion, for her to do any real damage.

So, Rick might not want to touch her, and she can’t blame him for that. But she would never hurt him.

The Joker is delighted. He looks over at Rick, amusement tugging at his dark lips until they part obscenely, revealing a row of silver capped teeth.

“This one’s got claws, Flag.” He turns to Angel. “How’s about I get that bomb out of your head and you come work for me? I’ve been in the market for a new pet since Harley left.”

Everyone in the room, including Rick, knows he’s bluffing. They wouldn’t be here if there was any alternative and Angel has finally accepted this.

“Enough, Joker.” Rick snarls.

It looks as if he’s going to launch himself on the clown, but that sliver of self-restraint that always seems to keep Rick alive sees his feet rooted to the spot.

“We do this now, or we’re leaving.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s going to happen Colonel. But seeing as I am in the habit of protecting my investments, let’s get to it. Doc, the floor is yours.”

The Joker gives Angel a final appraisal before turning on his heel and heads back towards his circle of henchmen.

Van Criss holds out an arm, gesturing for Angel to join him but she remains frozen in place, staring at Rick with uncertainty. “What does he mean by investment?”

Rick shakes his head. “Nothing for you to worry about, darlin’. Come on. Let’s get this over and done with.”

He offers her his hand, another first, but for the second time this evening his hazel eyes betray him. There’s something he’s not telling her.

“I’m afraid it’s a rather rudimentary procedure,” Van Criss explains as he guides them to what appears to be a makeshift medical bay. “Without having my original instruments to hand I’m going to have to make a small incision to remove the device.”

Angel wants to put her foot down, to insist on being told the full story, but like Rick she is painfully aware of the clock ticking. If she doesn’t make a decision now, Waller will happily make it for her.

So, with no small amount of trepidation, she takes Rick’s hand and lets him lead her over to the waiting doctor.

Angel notices how he doesn’t call it a bomb.

#rick flag x oc #tss 2021 #colonel rick flag #dceu fanfiction #rick flag fanfiction #rick flag imagine #joel kinnaman #the joker #harley quinn #oc #original character #fan fiction #colonel flag fanfiction #colonel flag #amanda waller #deadshot #fanfic #my fic #rick flag

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pcrushinnerd · 4 years

Photo

The Cat

Synopsis: Attempting to catch a fleeing feline leads to a chance encounter between two Gotham neighbors that will change their lives forever. [[Completed]]

Relationship(s): Arthur Fleck x OC/Arthur Fleck x reader

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

The story is also available on Fanfiction.net as a strictly 3rd person story. I also created a Spotify list with the music mentioned in or which generally inspired the story as I was writing it.

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wonderfulworldofmichaelford · 5 years

Text

Genesis OCs

In the middle decades of the 21st century, explosive events occur that gives some of the world’s population superpowers. One such person is David Paine, who was rendered homeless by the event and due to his power being a Wolverine-esque healing factor, he found himself unable to die before finally finding shelter in a brothel/safehouse for empowered young women. Years after finding this new home, he soon has to protect it when someone from his past shows up in his life and a superpowered supremacist begins to make moves against the city and its people.

Finally got at least SOME stuff about these OCs written down. Kinda weird when I think about this story, it’s almost a dark contrast to Six Shots.

HEROES

David Paine

Once your average teenager, David’s life was turned upside down when his home and family were seemingly destroyed during the Genesis Event. Surviving due to the event giving him a healing factor, David was rendered depressed, homeless, and suicidal; he would often wake up in the morgue, especially during winter. This all changed when he pulled himself together and began protecting people on the street, which led to him saving one of the sex workers who lived in Mac’s safe house. Mac soon gave David a home, and he has lived there ever since, protecting the girl’s living there from harm as well as finding love in the form of Alice.

6’, dark brown hair, blue-grey eyes, white, heterosexual.

Unlike many healing factors in fiction, his works even if his head is separated from the body. In such an event, his body will move on its own in an attempt to get the head back. During this period, his headless body has increased strength and speed, though it will only continue moving for an hour before collapsing, at which point the head needs to be brought over to the neck by an outside source to heal.

He almost always looks exhausted.

He’s a very calm guy, and it takes a lot to make him angry.

He is 27 years old.

Ashley Walker

David’s ex-girlfriend from high school, Ashley fell in with the wrong crowd, leading for David to part ways with her. Caught up in the Genesis Event, she gained fire powers, though this came with s ome unexpected side effects. She mainly used her powers to commit petty crimes, and hung out with unsavory folks, though part of her desperately wishes her life could get better.

5’6”, black hair, green eyes, white.

Her powers act much like any other pyrokineetic character in fiction, but if she exerts herself too much in too short of a time, she “burns out” and transforms into a 7’ tall charred skeletal monster known as “Ashwalker.”

She has a bit of a temper.

She’s kind of stubborn.

She regrets a lot of her criminal actions over the past ten years. However, she’d never say it willingly.

She has always been in to goth and punk subcultures.

She is 27 years old.

Alice Doe

A mysterious young woman. One night, she appeared bleeding on Mac’s doorstep; he took her in and he and the girl’s helped nurse her back to help. She doesn’t remember anything about her past, or how she became injured, and she seems to be nothing but an average young woman, albeit a bit pale and sickly.

5’8”, long black hair, very pale, dark blue eyes.

She has frequent dizzy spells.

She’s very sweet, perceptive, and patient.

She is 25 years old.

Mac Palmer

Once part of an average family, Mac’s life was turned upside down after the Genesis Event, which led to his brother being killed by a pimp in the ensuing gang activity that erupted during the chaos. Mac, unaware of his new powers, accidentally killed the pimp. He soon discovered said pimp had been gathering up girls with powers in the weeks after the Event, planning on using them to please himself and clients. Deciding to offer them help, he converted the pimp’s hideout into a safe house for at-risk young women with superpowers, though he allowed anyone who wanted to continue doing sex work to do so. He keeps up a front of being a hardcore pimp to keep away those who would do the girls harm, and he has David help keep them safe when he’s not busy protecting the rest of the streets.

He is 5’9”, black, black hair, brown eyes.

He is bisexual.

His power allows him to focus incredible strength and force, but only through his right arm. While normally a weakness, he works out to ensure his other arm is at least of peak normal human strength just in case.

He really enjoys watching old Nickelodeon cartoons.

He wanted to be a veterinarian, but he put this on hold to keep the girls safe.

He was frequently an Honor Roll student in school.

He is 30 years old.

CRIMINALS: THE UNDERWORLD

Piper the Rat King

One of Ashley’s old friends, and a renowned empowered individual in the underworld.

Piper has the ability to control rodents, though he is most fond of rats. With his psychic link he can command them to perform actions they normally would not on their own, as well as boost their power.

He is gay.

He is mute.

He is a huge fan of the band Ghost.

He wears a green hooded cape to keep his identity hidden.

He is 5’7”, black hair, and yellow eyes.

Sebastian Darke

Piper’s bodyguard and his lover.

He is 6’6” and very thin.

He is albino.

He has the power to move through and hide in shadows.

He’s very stoic.

He almost always wears sunglasses.

CRIMINALS: THE FULL DECK GANG

Based at least partially on the Royal Flush gang.

Suicide King

A superpowered criminal and leader of the Full Deck gang. His real name is Rex Hart.

Suicide King has the power to instantly reappear somewhere nearby after dying, leaving behind his corpse. Said corpse turns into a bomb and will explode shortly after he reappears. He is entirely immune to his own explosions.

He wears an outfit that can only be described as a red-and-black straightjacket (obviously the arms are not tied)

Before getting his powers, he suffered from suicidal depression. Getting his powers and finding out he actually couldn’t die now drove him crazy.

In reality, the above is just a cover story used to garner sympathy and get his gang viewed as counter-culture anti-heroes; in actuality, Suicide King is a sick, sadistic monster who revels in the murder and mayhem he causes.

Dancing Queen

A member of the Full Deck gang.

She is an expert dancer in nearly all styles.

She has the ability to perform powerful attacks via her dancing.

She needs to consume a ridiculous amount of calories a day, as each and every attack consumes a large chunk of calories and can leave her weak if she isn’t careful.

Her real name is Anna Beatrix Belinda Armandi.

Jack the Ripper

A member of the Full Deck gang.

His real name is Jack Tripper.

His power has given him razor-sharp knives for fingers. They appear to be made of some sort of metal and are hard to break; if they do, he can regrow them.

He was a violent misanthrope even before he got his powers, being involved in numerous debacles when he was still in school.

Joker’s Wild

A member of the Full Deck gang.

His power is the ability to alter the perception of anyone around them, causing them to see his movements as erratic and nonsensical; in other words, he extremely disorients his victims without them realizing it.

He is incredibly flexibile.

His real name is Joseph Carwylde.

Ace in the Hole

A member of the Full Deck gang.

He wears a mask that makes his face seem to be entirely blank. He also always wears gloves, and is rumored to have burned his fingerprints away.

He has the power to generate portals that allow him and allies to pass through solid objects.

His real name is Dodger Holyfield.

CRIMINALS: GANGS - OTHER

Nora Hawking

A tough girl who was forced to grow up on the streets after her parents vanished and she had nowhere else to go. Despite this and her dangerous powers, she tries to stay as upbeat as possible. She leads a street gang known as the Deathhawks.

Her power is to drain out the lifeforce of anyone she touches with her bare hands, similar to Rogue. She has very little control over this ability.

She’s mixed race, half black, half Latina.

She tris to stay upbeat and positive, but she’s still very much hurting.

She started a street gang so that she could always be surounded by people even if she can never touch them.

She’s 5′8″ with black hair and green eyes.

She is 19 years old.

Scout Sawner

A former Boy Scout, he formed a radical Neo Nazi street gang shortly before the Genesis Event. His gang, known as the Pure Scouts, frequently clashes with the Deathawks.

He has X-Ray vision as well as enhanced sight, able to focus his vision to see far away people and objects. However, he needs to stand still to use any of these powers.

He is bisexual, but he frequently tries to suppress his urges. This has led to him raping and murdering many of his gang’s targets.

He is skilled at using hatchets and axes.

He is 5′8″, with brown hair and blue eyes.

Lady Raptor

A British woman and one of the most renowned gang leaders in the worldwide criminal underworld. Essentially the Godfather of gangs, being under her protection is what any gang should want. Her gang is known as the Illuminati, and they have agents all over the world.

She has the power to shapeshift into a giant, vicious reptilian monster that stands at 8′7″, has razor-sharp teeth and claws, and enhanced regenerative abilities. She has increased strength and durability even when not in her lizard form.

Her real name is Lyn Icke; she inherited the gang from her mother, and was raised since birth to take it over. She reverted to her mother’s name - McDowell - after her mother died, but occasionally uses hr father’s last name for undercover work.

She rarely wears shoes, as they would only be destroyed when she transforms. She tends to wear tanktops or very stretchy clothes so that she is not naked when she transforms back. She tends to wear a black trenchcoat over everything.

She is 5′7″, red hir, and green eyes.

She is in actuality a “neccesary evil,” a terrifying force to keep even worse criminals from rising to power, and works together with world governments.

Her powers are based on the Hulk and Lizard.

CRIMINALS: SERIAL KILLERS AND MURDERERS

Skinwolf

One of the first superpowered criminals David fought after finding his new home.

His power is to be able to slit people’s skin, take it off, and wear it as his own.

His real name is Skinner Lobos.

He is a sadistic serial killer, though sometimes he gets lost in his victim’s lives for days at a time.

He is partially based on the Batman villain Jane Doe.

CHILDREN OF THE GENESIS

Lucius Bright

The son of a preacher, Lucius Bright grew up with a strong belief in God, and set out to do great things in the world. However, hardships struck; his father was killed in a hate crime, and he began to feel lost without him. Wanting to do something good in the world, he adopted several troubled children who had nowhere else to go. All of these children were caught up in the Genesis event.

Bright saw this as a sign from God. Recalling the cruelty that ended his father’s life, Bright seeks to create a world where those with great power such as himself keep the world safe and protected. For ten years he and his remaining orphans trained so that they could bring about his vision: a world where people can understand their powers and live in harmony with those without powers. However, his peace and love style of teaching may not work with everyone.

He is 66 years old.

He is 6’2”, black, and has hazel eyes.

He is fluent in many languages, particularly French.

He is incredibly intelligent.

He has a strong appreciation for ancient cultures and their mythology.

He is heavily based on Samuel L. Jackson characters such as Elijah Price, Valentine, etc.

He has the power to manipulate light, meaning he can fire lasers, create illumination, and so on. However, to maximize the effectiveness of his power he needs to absorb light beforehand.

Kitty Olsen

One of the children from the Genesis Event.

She has the power of movement synchronization. If she is able to make consistent, direct eye contact with someone for five seconds, their movements become synched and Kitty mirrors everything they do for up to an hour. As long as she is synched with someone, any sort of damage that Kitty would take from the person she is synched with appears on that person instead. However, once she is synchronized she is incapable of de-synching until enough time passes.

She is 5’6”, brunette, blue-gray eyes.

She is a bit snarky, snide, and condescending.

She is 25 years old.

Babette Bonheur

One of the children. She was adopted when her parents died shortly after immigrating to America.

She is 5’5”, red hair, blue eyes, white.

She is French. She still has an accent despite not having lived there since she was little.

Babette is a very skilled artist, and can draw very well with just about anything.

Babette has the power to bring her drawings to life. Anything she draws she can make ‘real,’ in a manner of speaking; the living drawings only live for an hour at a time, and can be destroyed by water rather easily.

She is 16 years old. She was adopted shortly before the Genesis Event, about four months prior to it.

Bright is closest to her; he learned French specifically so he could help Babette keep that part of her heritage alive.

She spends a lot of time with Allen.

She is gay, though she doesn’t realize it.

Allen Lecarde

One of the children; he was impaled by several glass shards, but his inherent power coupled with energy from the blood dripping from a dying friend healed him.

He is 6’, with long black hair, red eyes, and very pale skin.

His power is similar to that of a traditional vampire; he has enhanced strength, speed, and regenerative abilities but he must feed on human blood to power himself. Interestingly, if he drinks the blood of someone with powers, he gains their power in a weakened form. His friend who died, for instance, had psychic powers, and getting his blood gave him the ability to speak into others minds as well as read thoughts. He still needs to eat and drink as a normal human, but he becomes extremely weak if he does not drink blood; currently, he is rather thin and a bit sickly as he has actively fought against his urges.

He is very close with Babette.

He is often quiet and brooding.

He is extremely persuasive.

He is 20 years old.

Bright has not allowed him to purposefully feed in a long time, insisting that Allen try and suppress his dangerous urges. This has made Allen rather bitter towards his adoptive father.

Jazz

One of Bright’s children.

Jazz has shapeshifting as their power.

Jazz is genderfluid and goes alternately by Jasper or Jasmine depending on what gender body they currently are shifted into. Most of their friends just call them Jazz, a s it is a gender-neutral nickname.

Jazz has shapeshifted so much since getting their power that they have started to forget what they were originally and have started suffering from identity crisis and depressive episodes.

Jazz is very melancholy.

They are 21 years old.

OTHER CHARACTERS

Davy Jones

Considered to be little more than an urban legend, Davy Jones is in fact real. During the Genesis Event, a man named Dave Bowie was caught in the blast and launched into the bay, where he drowned. His body fell into a seaweed bed, which somehow absorbed the power he would have been granted and took over his body. The seaweed, now in control of the corpse, became a strange guardian of the old lighthouse.

Its power seems to involve controlling the body it is within, making it incredibly strong and able to regenerate as well as utilize seaweed offensively.

It is unkown if it can talk.

Hardly anyone believes it is real.

It is based on the Pokemon Dhelmise.

His former name is a reference to how David Bowie had to change his name from “David Jones” when pursuing his musical career due to Davy Jones of The Monkees fame.

Corpus Christie

A mysterious woman.

Her power is telekinetic energy, which she can also focus into corpses to make them turn into zombies for a brief time.

Her skin is grey; apparently she had a near-death experience at one point.

She has no idea who she was prior to getting her powers. Only that her name was “Christine.”

Skyhigh

Sonny Skye was an average young man gifted extraordinary power by the Genesis Event. With it, he rose to fame in the Midwest and South of America by performing noble deeds, though it did draw him some ire from more conservative sources. At this time it is assumed he is a heroic figure.

He has quite a lot of powers: he has flight, the ability to communicate with and control any creature that is able to fly, he has limited ability to control the weather, and he has increased durability and cold resistance.

His name is a reference to the song “Sky High” by Jigsaw.

His powers are a combination of Storm, Superman, and Aquaman.

Tetsuo Madden

The son of the president of the United States. He is secretly the katana-wielding vigilante known as Black Shadow.

He hunts down and kills superpowered criminals due to his girlfriend being killed by one during a home invasion.

However, he still by day champions the rights of these people, just like his mother and father.

He has no powers of his own, but he is very smart, atheletic, and skilled with the blade.

He is 30 years old.

#My OCs #my writing

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rose-and-thorn-fanfics · 1 year

Text

THE DARK KNIGHT FANFIC: Joker x OC (Part 1)

“Gotham University is blessed to have girls like you in attendance, Lottie Wayne," Mrs Herbert said, smiling sadly at the petite girl standing in front of her desk. "You're the only girl I know will certainly give me a straight answer about this tragic subject."

Lottie fiddled with her uniform's skirt, trying to hide her irritation. "You mean the murder of Susan, correct?"

Mrs. Herbert nodded. "What do you remember about the fifteenth of September?" The administrator leaned forward in her chair, staring Lottie directly in the eyes.

"I remember passing Susan in the hall, after Mr. Wilson's class. She was talking with her boyfriend. He seemed upset. I only saw her one time after that, in the women's restroom, braiding her hair." Lottie pretended to recollect.

"Nothing else?" Mrs. Herbert pressed, adjusting her blue framed cat-eye glasses.

Lottie sighed. Her patience was wearing thin. "No. Nothing else." She forced a smile.

"Were you friends with Susan? I'm sorry. I know it's none of my business, but I'm worried whoever was out to get Susan might be after her friends too, and if so I'd be required to make your parents aware of the potentially dangerous situation."

Lottie paused, briefly remembering the way Susan had picked on her for having braces in college. "We were very close," Lottie lied, her doll-like dark eyes welling up with tears.

"Alright then, I'll make a call to your parents and let them know you'll be heading home and will not be attending college until the police find Susan's killer. Even education isn't worth risking your life."

Lottie nodded, wiping the tears trickling down her cheek. "You're absolutely right." And with that she left the room and (once far enough from Mrs. Herbert) she started giggling uncontrollably, her long dark auburn ringlets bouncing as she skipped down the hall. Lottie turned the corner and ran straight into Maya Gardner, causing Maya to clumsily drop her books.

"Hey!" Maya yelped.

"OH! I'm sorry!" Lottie apologized. Maya was the closest thing she had to a friend. "Here, let me help you pick those books up."

"Thanks," Maya said warmly, getting over her initial shock. She knelt down to grab the same book as Lottie, but grabbed Lottie's wrist instead, pulling her close enough to whisper in her ear. "I know what you did." Maya breathed.

Lottie's eyes widened. "What?" There was no way. She had been SO careful not to leave any evidence of her crimes.

"Shhh. Someone will hear you!" Maya whispered urgently. "I know what you did," she repeated, "but I want to know how you did it. I want in. Next time, you don't handle it alone."

Lottie picked up the book and handed it to her. "No, Maya, we've been through this. Remember last time? I know you're good at keeping your mouth shut, but I need more than that. I need someone skilled."

Maya stood up, shaking her head. "But I am good, I swear."

Lottie stood up, and grabbed Maya's arm, dragging her down the hall, up two flights of stairs and into her dorm room, a place more private for their conversation. "You're good, but your skills are niche." Lottie sighed. "If I ever need to hack a security system, you bet you'd be the first person I'd call."

"But-"

"-Look, in any other scenario, I work alone. You hear me?" Lottie said shortly.

"But you didn't this last time, did you? Someone helped you kill Susan, and I wanna know who it is." Maya said, unmistakable jealousy in her voice. "You can talk all day about working alone but September fifteenth was different."

Lottie looked away. Maya could read her so well. Maybe she would be useful someday. Better to have her on her side than against her.

"Was it your boyfriend?" Maya said angrily.

Lottie blushed. "That's assuming a lot, considering you've never met him."

"Well, I'm not wrong though, am I?" she huffed.

"Fine, ok? I mean, I hate having to hide shit like this all the time. Can't I kill a bitch without everyone being so nosy?"

"Do you love him?" Maya asked.

"Absolutely." Lottie said, then laughed, hearing how silly that sounded.

"-What?!"

"-Not." Lottie quickly added, assessing the downsides of pissing off Maya Gardner.

Maya sighed in relief. "Ok, good. You scared me there for a second. You met the guy last week. As a friend I should hope that you wouldn't fall that fast. Especially falling for a criminal."

"Remind me why I tell you anything?" Lottie grumbled.

Maya grinned a toothy grin. "Cause I'm cute, and absolutely irresistable." She flopped on her side on Lottie's bed.

"And it's a good thing too, cause if you weren't I'd slit your throat and you'd be rotting in the commons room like Susan." Lottie said, winking. The two girls giggled, and Maya tossed a pillow at Lottie.

#batman fanfiction #joker x oc #joker #the dark knight #fanfic #nolanverse #Batman #joker x reader #fan fiction #Batman fanfic #the dark knight fanfic #gotham

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elizabeth-midford-who-blog · 7 years

Note

salty asks: 1, 9, 10, 20, 26

Long post ahead.

These are all answered by the admin, if you want Elizabeth to answer these too she will. I certainly will be happy to break character, as I love breaking the fourth wall.

1. What OTPs in your fandom(s) do you just not get?*

Well, this is going to be obvious as to why with the answer to the next question. However, I absolutely will never understand this fandom’s favourite ship SebaCiel. One, Ciel is a thirteen year old boy and Sebastian looks like a twenty six year old man. It would be pedophilia for one-. (A lot of people like to tell me the age of consent in Japan is 13 so it’s okay, but there are actually laws throughout all of Japan in different parts- the override the first law- saying women must be at least the age of 16 and a male partner must be 18). Not that it matters, because they live in London and the age restriction there is I believe either 16 or 18, and YES even in the 1800’s it was wrong for a grown adult to have a relationship with another under the age of 16.

Besides pedophilia, because that topic is way too fucking touchy. Their relationship would be completely toxic and unhealthy. Sebastian only wants Ciel for his soul, even Yana Toboso has said Sebastian would never love a human. He’d only ever be with Ciel to toy with his emotions, to make him THINK he loves him (if Ciel had feelings for him), sexually USE him and make him trust him, just to get his soul. Sebastian would never love a human or someone weaker than himself, someone like Claude or even the Undertaker would be a much more higher option. I don’t think he cares about gender, he’ll partner with anybody, but I believe they have to be of the Supernatural and just as or even stronger than him.

There’s plenty of more reasons, but I’m going to point out the obvious one. So if there are all these things here that should stop them from being shipped, that should stop anybody from romanticizing them- why is this here? Oh, because it’s fucking yaoi. That’s the only reason the ship exists, is because they both have a dick.

That’s just my opinion, I don’t give a fuck what anybody else likes, but that’s what I think of the ship. The same goes for Alois x Claude, Alois x Sebastian and Ciel x Claude.

I also don’t understand Undertaker x Vincent like- y'all realize if he’s related to Ciel (which is more than likely) he’s Ciel’s uncle or Grandfather? So then- the Undertaker is either Vincent’s brother or father. I can’t tell if people just forget that or if they don’t care. I don’t care what people ship, but nah-. Incest isn’t my deal.

9. Most disliked character(s)? Why?

So uh-. This is probably gonna be a long one just like the first one. The character I hate the most in the entire series is Sebastian Michaelis. He’s a fucking piece of shit dude. Sure, he’s a wonderful meme, and I actually used to be hopelessly obsessed with him. Until, I met a Ciel role player (that I’ve now been dating for two years in real life), and we began roleplaying and eventually made a ship with their Ciel and my OC. The more I role-played with them and the more of my old feelings for Ciel came back, the more I began to realize that Sebastian is a piece of shit.

I will say, my initial hate for Sebastian has to be the scene with him and Ciel in Book of Circus when they’re killing the Baron Kelvin and The Joker. Ciel, having an actual PTSD attack, happened to catch Sebastian’s attention. He is actually drooling by his mouth, probably ready to vomit everywhere because of the PTSD, and Sebastian-. You know what he does? He grabs his hands, tells him that all he has to do is call his name, to say it, and he can order him whatever he wants. Ciel, thinking he is ACTUALLY in that place he was three years ago, probably warped to believe he was making the decision to form the contract again. That’s what happens in PTSD, for some people, their reality is mixed with the memory of where their ‘trigger’ or PTSD comes from.

So what I’m saying is, Ciel had no clue what he was doing in that moment. Now you can tell me Sebastian snapped him out of it, but no, he didn’t. He encouraged Ciel’s awful PTSD episode, which I’m not sure if Sebastian knew what that was I’ll give him that, and he ordered Sebastian to burn the place down. My theory will always stand that Ciel thought he was burning down the place he had been held in for a month, he was killing those people that hurt him, not the children because like I said-. He forgot where he was. Now, I know Sebastian 'asked him if he was sure’, but no one realizes Sebastian asking him, 'ARE YA SURE?’ Is gonna break his episode.

So why do I think Sebastian did that? Sebastian used Ciel’s vulnerability to his own gain, to make the contract stronger. He used his suffering for his own agenda, just like the demon he is. He is an asshole, he doesn’t care about Ciel’s feelings, he only does it because he has to. Which he can’t be blamed for saying that IS his nature, but I don’t care what’s in his nature, because he’s an evil demon. Isn’t that a good enough reason to hate him?

Ciel deserves better.

10. Most disliked arc? Why?

Honestly, there isn’t a single arc I disliked. I love every single one of them. My favourite probably being the school arc which I am so excited for. However, if I had to choose one I wasn’t interested in as much as the others-. The green witch arc? I don’t know, I loved that arc as well, but I suppose when I think of the manga, that’s arc I think of last. It’s not bad at all, it’s very good, but I guess if I had to choose.

20. What is the purest ship in the fandom?

This is a very hard one for me because surprisingly I don’t have many ships. I think maybe- I don’t know. I wanna say Grell x William or Vincent x Rachel. They’re both so perfect to me, like-? Vincent and Rachel obviously are canon, and Grell and William-. ;; They’re adorable together, especially all the fan art and fan fiction of them, it’s literally the purest ship. I would say Ciel x Elizabeth as well, they’re a very pure ship, but I also have mixed feelings as of late due to the current arc. Anything before that though? Absolutely.

26. Most shippable character?

Honestly-. Either Beast from Book of Circus or Grell. I ship Beast with fucking Dagger, Joker and Sebastian-. Even though I hate Sebastian, I just love the love hate thing. Grell is paired with so many, Undertaker, Ronald, William, Sebastian. Although Grell and William are my favourites, those exist too. Mey-Rin and Elizabeth are very shippable as well. Mey-Rin with Sebastian, either Bard or Finny, DEFINITELY NINA HOPKINS (I ship hard), Ran Mao. Elizabeth with Ciel, Alois (in my opinion, that’s gross), Sullivan ( ;^) that’s some good shit to me).

However, the most out of all of these, probably Grell.

#black butler #kuroshitsuji #answering asks #oops #sorry guys #just giving my honest opinion

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rose-and-thorn-fanfics · 1 year

Text

THE DARK KNIGHT FANFIC: Joker x OC (Part 6)

Lottie woke up while it was still dark outside. She spent a few moments gazing at the city lights, then got up and got dressed. Slipping on a pastel pink mini skirt, white lace tights, and a white long sleeved sweater, she gazed at admired her appearance in the bathroom mirror. 'Now my mom isn't here to force me to dress like a middle aged business woman. Now I can be myself.' Lottie thought, applying baby-pink lipstick and brushing out her hair. She left the bathroom and took a seat on her bed, sending a picture of herself to the Joker, and then calling Maya Gardner's cellphone.

Maya answered immediately. "Oh my god, I've been so worried about you. My mom told me your maid got murdered and your parents disappeared." She said, relieved to be answering her best friend's call. She paused, then asked the inevitable question. "Did you do that?"

Lottie grinned. "Surprisingly, no. Not this time."

Maya sighed. "Ok, then who?"

"That's not important. Anyway," Lottie said. "I need some more clothes, and was wondering if you'd like to go with me on a shopping spree on 3rd Avenue, no money required on your part."

"Uh, yeah. But you're saying you're treating? Didn't your mom close down your credit card account?"

"It's not my treat, you can thank Gotham's most eligible bachelor for funding our little outing." Lottie said, unable to conceal her happiness.

Maya squealed with excitement. "You're one lucky bitch to have Bruce Wayne as your cousin. Are you staying with him right now? I assume you aren't still at your parent's penthouse."

"Yup! Alright, I gotta go. I'll pick you up when the sun rises. Ok?" Lottie said, noticing a notification of an incoming text from the Joker.

"Yay! Alright, bye!" Maya said.

Lottie hung up and opened the text. The text read "Enjoying your new accommodations, I see? You look beautiful, doll. -J" She blushed, typing a response. "Only for you. :) Thanks for the birthday gifts. You never fail to surprise me! xoxo" She pressed sent, and it was immediately read. Then the Joker sent her a picture. Lottie clicked on it, zooming in. It was her mother and father with their throats slit, bleeding dark puddles of crimson next to some old boxes in a warehouse. Their faces were painted with white grease paint like the Joker's makeup, with a bright red smile. Lottie blinked, studying the picture. 'He must've done this in that old warehouse a few blocks from the Thrills strip club.' She deduced, then smiled, quickly writing a response. "Nice touch with the makeup."

There was a knock on the door of Lottie's bedroom, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Sighing, deleted the chat and turned off her phone. "Alfred?"

"No, it's me." Bruce said through the door. "Can I open this up?"

"Sure! I'm dressed." Lottie replied.

The door opened, and Bruce stepped inside, holding a cup of coffee in his hands and taking a seat in the chair by the bed. "I was thinking, and with everything that's happened, I think you should take someone with you when you go shopping." He took a sip of his coffee, then rubbed his eyes, looking exhausted.

"Don't worry, I'm going to take Maya Gardner, my friend from University!" Lottie replied. 'Damn, Bruce,' She thought. 'You look like haven't slept in years. Typical bachelor, probably hungover from last night's inevitable partying.'

"You can bring her, but I also think you should bring someone else too. Someone who is a responsible adult." He said, staring out at the skyscrapers of Gotham as the sun began to rise.

"Like... who? You look like a zombie, no offense. And Alfred seems busy with who knows what. Those are the only responsible adults I can think of." Lottie said pointedly.

"I know of someone. You've met Rachel Dawes, right?" Bruce asked. "I feel like I introduced you to each other at an event last year."

"You mean the District Attorney's girlfriend?" Lottie asked.

Bruce winced, clearly upset at the mention of who Rachel Dawes was dating. "Yeah. Anyway, She's someone I trust-"

"-And love ." Lottie added, teasingly.

Bruce ignored her comment. "And I really think you two would hit it off. Plus, I'd just feel safer if you and your friend weren't wandering Gotham alone, after what happened to your parents."

"You know something, don't you." Lottie said, studying her cousin's expression. "Is that why you didn't sleep last night?"

Bruce looked alarmed. "What? No. I mean, yes. I guess I saw the police report. You would've seen it too if you had been watching tv with me, but you'd already gone to bed." He sighed. "I hate to say this. And I know there's nothing I can really do to make this easier to hear, but your parents were found dead in a warehouse downtown. I suggest you don't look up the details if you don't want to see the disturbing images the detectives took."

Lottie looked down at her hands, brain going a thousand miles per hour as she tried to figure out what to say and how to act. Her mind was blanking, and she began to panic.

Her cousin looked at her with concern. "You knew?"

'Damn it.' she thought frantically. "What? No! I'm just- I don't know what to say... If I look scared it's because I am scared." She said. 'Scared you'll figure out I don't give a shit...' She thought.

"I'm scared too. For you." Bruce said, a shadow casting over his face. "But you should be safe if Rachel takes you and your friend shopping. Maybe that'll help get your mind off of it."

"Yeah... I guess. Hey, thanks for being understanding and caring about me, Bruce." Lottie said, tearing up. The tears had nothing to do with her parents. It's just she hated lying to Bruce for some reason.

"I lost my parents too, you know." Bruce said sympathetically. "I love you, and I feel responsible for you now."

"I know." Lottie sighed. "Speaking of which, I told Maya I'd pick her up when the sun rises, so you should probably call Rachel and see if she can come soon."

#christian bale #batman oc #the dark knight fanfic #the dark knight #joker fanfic #joker fanfiction #joker x reader #joker x oc #heath ledger #fan fic #fan fiction #nolanverse #batman fanfiction #Batman

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thejokersenigma · 7 years

Text

Joker x OC - Strictly Business Part 1

Hi guys, so this was a request I was given at the beginning of the week:

Hi there! I have a request if you don't mind ;) How about Joker got obsessed with a married woman? I'm just dying to see what he's going to do. I don't want to limit your imagination, but still a little application... I just see that marriage was more like marriage of convenience in a good way. Maybe this woman and her husband are like business partners too.

There were a few particular they wanted, but that would make this a long post (longer than usual) so I'll leave it at that!

After beginning to write this I figured it would be better as a 2-3 part piece, and as the Anon didn't specify if this was suppose to be a oneshot or not I've decided to spilt it up (otherwise it would be huge because I'm really bad at writing small pieces of work! haha

Anyway, hope you enjoy it!

Thank you to the Anon for the asking for the request - I hope it's what you were after - let me know if it's not and I can try again!

Masterlist

Strictly Business MASTERLIST

I shuffled together the mass of papers that were splayed out over the expanse of my desk, shoving them into a neater pile and tapping them on the flat surface until they were inline, then placed them to the side of me.

I straightened up, hyperextending my back and feeling the ache ring through my muscles – maybe I ought to take up Yoga again – hunching over a desk wasn’t helping my posture or my back.

I pushed myself to my feet, the sun already beginning to fade behind the skyscrapers that filled the view from my large office window. It was getting late and I needed to get going.

I picked up my now-uniform pile of papers and nestled them into the crook of my arm, moving around my desk and heading for the door, grabbing my handbag and coat from the hook on the back of the door.

I locked the office up behind me, dropping the keys into the expanse of my back, before straightening myself out and walking the brief distance across the open floor of offices to the only other room as large as mine on this floor - and the entire building – my husband’s.

I knocked smartly on his door, pausing only a moment before I heard the faint acceptance into the room and I pushed the door open.

Though the room was as large as mine, it was decorated completely differently. Whilst mine took on a more modern look and was decorated to look sleek with its metals and sharp edges, Mathew’s took a more traditional, old-fashion design of dark wooden furniture and dim lighting – as close to a hunting lodge as he could get.

My eyes met my husband’s first when I walked into the room, he sat behind the large dark oak desk, his attention momentarily diverted from the folder in front of him. I gave him a small smile of greeting before turning my attention to his visitors who sat on matching dark leather armchairs on the opposite side. I nodded to them in greeting and they returned warm welcomes, knowing full well who I was.

“My apologies, gentlemen.” I said quickly, striding past them to my husband, who stood up to greet me. “Just some last-minute paperwork before I get ready for the gala tonight.” I explained handing the papers over to Mathews waiting hand.

“Off already?” He asked, surprised.

Ah Mathew – always the one to burn the midnight oil.

“It’s already getting dark.” I pointed, knowing full well he probably hadn’t looked at the time for at least 3 hours – too busy wrapped up in meetings or papers to ever look around his environment. He could work in the sewer and not care as long as the work kept coming in – it made me wonder why he’d bothered with such a nice office space. “Besides, I have to make sure everything is running smoothly,” I said, with a smile at the men sat across from me then smile in agreement, “and then I have to get ready myself – not all of us can just throw on a suit and turn up.” I added with a wink in the direction of the other men who chortled at my teasing.

“Fine, fine.” Mathew brushed me off with a slight hand gesture, too busy for my gentle ribbing right now and already flicking through the papers I had given him, his mind quickly becoming lost in them. “I’ll see you this evening then?” He asked, but I could tell he was already lost in the documents, so I gave him a small nod and headed for the door. “St. George’s?” Mathew suddenly called out to me and I turned to see him looking at me. I nodded again – his memory for things other than work rather poor. “Tonight then.” He said, half to himself, immediately re-immersing into his reading. over the corner of the dark wood desk to.

I gave a small smile to the other men and left the room.

I spent the rest of my evening darting around the venue for the gala later that night, checking the alcohol had arrived, the servers present, the decorations in place and any other little problem that was handed to me. It was a bit later than I hoped that I finally headed back to my flat. I spent the last few hours getting myself dolled up and ready to host, whilst also answering the phone that continued to ring for my attention – I never stopped working.

Work ruled my life now. It hadn’t always. I used to be young and foolish, carefree like many others in their 20’s. But then reality had hit me at 21 when I lost both my parents and soon found myself without any money. That had been a cold hard slap in the face at a time where I was used to having spare cash to throw around as I pleased. Suddenly I was forced to work to survive and I could no longer afford to be frivolous or waste my time on anything but improving my prospects.

But now I was better off than I had ever been – I made more money than anyone in my family had ever done, thanks to now owning one of the largest business in Gotham, rivalled only really now by Wayne Enterprises.

Yet I still worked constantly.

There had been a time when I was taunted by my colleagues for never 'letting my hair down', but I had simply regarded them as childish, they didn’t know me – no one really did, I had no friends left from the tie before my parent’s death – and no one could understand what my work meant to me.

I think I found enjoyment in it. In my work.

Before it had been a way to get money, to survive and then to be comfortable, and then secure.

Then it had become a coping mechanism to deal with the tragedy in my life, I had kept myself buried in the work load from the start to keep my mind busy on anything but what I had lost.

Now it thrilled me – the tense waiting for a deal to come through, the rush when you pulled off the biggest merger, the power of manipulation of those who hadn’t been in the game long enough to realise they could be so easily swayed by a few choice words.

It kept me going.

If I didn’t have my work - if I stopped for even a moment – I would surely collapse under the weight of everything I had been putting off for so long.

After applying the last touch to my makeup I grabbed my clutch and shrugged a thin shawl over my shoulders, before I headed out into the night. I hailed a cab and sat silently in the back, tapping away at my phone and relishing in the peace behind I had to endure a night of socialising.

I wasn’t a huge people person. I dealt with them because I had to, not because I wanted to - If I could have it my way it would be just my job and me, no one else. Not even Mathew.

Maybe that was why I didn’t mind manipulating and conning people the way I did, and maybe that was why I didn’t care that I never went out, my social life only comprising events like tonight - which was really just another night of working for me. After all, it was events like tonight where all the huge deals were make - there was at least one merger that hung in the balance this evening.

So that’s how I tricked myself into putting up with these things – it was just a large, slightly oddly laid out, meeting room, full of people to be seduced and persuaded into giving me their money and their businesses.

My problem was, few other people saw it like this.

And that’s how I ended up where I currently was.

I had entered the large venue room relatively late for the hostess and worked my way around a few of the groups of businessmen and socialites, chatting away where necessary, laying the foundation for further, more serious talks later. Eventually I had found my husband on the other side of the room, already engaged in a deep conversation with a couple of Bruce Wayne’s employees.

I had strode up to them, greeting the group of men warmly. Mathew had given me a small peck on the cheek – the obligatory mark of a man greeting the woman he was lawfully wedded to – no romance and little tenderness in the gesture, simply something to keep up the show of our relationship.

I had stood with them for a while, happily chatting about the ever elusive Mr. Wayne and how their company fared with the recent drop in certain stocks and rises in other areas, both of the sides staying just as closed up and carefully as the other.

If I could stay speaking to the men all night like this, these evenings were generally fine – all of us enjoying the discussions of numbers and profits. However, all too often I was singled out by my gender and driven over to the other women in the room – the businessman’s wives.

These ladies had no idea what a profit margin was or the difference between fixed and variable costs and instead insisted on talking about their family lives and the gossip amongst the rest of their little group.

My problem was, I didn’t care that Junior had just started walking, or Mary had just made it to high school, I didn’t care that Mark had just proposed to Sue or that James seemed bored of Kim. I had no interest in children – other peoples or my own – and I didn’t care about romantic partners – despite marrying Mathew.

But that had never been romantic – it had never been for ‘love’.

When I was younger my parents had always pushed that they wanted me married, and I had fallen for everything a young naïve child does about love at first sight and the hopes of being swept off my feet by a handsome stranger across the room.

Of course, that had gone with the rest of my foolishness after my parents had passed, but the question of marriage never seemed to leave the conversation - in fact, as I got older, the question of my single-hood became more and more repetitive.

That was about the time I had met Mathew. He had been in charge of a company of similar size to my own and we had been on the war path for quite some time - always trying to outdo one another. I had seen nothing there but two businesses fighting it out to be on the top.

Mathew had not.

After a particularly heated meeting between our two sides he had pulled me aside and waved a white flag, asking me to drinks that evening. I had seen it as a chance to ply him with alcohol and get some information from him and had accepted.

Information was not what I got however. I got a marriage proposal.

I thought it had been ridiculous at the time – a simple whim from the man after too many whiskeys. But - ever being a business woman - I had not turned him down straight away. I let the offer linger.

The next few days I had considered my options, planned and reworked every outcome possible from the different sides of this ‘deal’ as I called it. I couldn’t see a reason not to say yes – if he agreed to my conditions.

And so, we had struck a deal. Our companies would merge, both of us would be joint, equal partners with it, and I would marry him - thereby removing the pressure of society off my back.

I never truly understood what he got from it – had he wanted the companies merged? Surely there was another way around other than marrying me? Had he ‘loved’ me? I was never sure and I still wasn’t sure of anything but that he definitely didn’t ‘love’ me anymore.

“So, any sign of children on the horizon for you, Leah?” The voice forced me to focus back in on the conversation around me as the 3 elegantly dressed women in front of me chattered away. This was the new repetitive question to replace that of marriage.

For the millionth time I shook my head, “We’re both so busy people.” I explained, “We don’t think it would be fair.”

“Me and Harvey thought that initially, but our nanny is perfect!” Explained the tall, stick thin woman to my right. I nodded and smiled as the conversation now switched to everyone’s current or previous nanny and nursery services.

I downed my glass and excused myself for a new drink, making my way over to one of the many small tables laid out with refreshments, in case the servers were busy elsewhere. I grabbed a fresh glass of champagne and found myself stood by the entrance to the vast room, hidden away from the pressing crowd behind a pillar.

I sipped at my drink, watching the tendrils of bubbles swirl and waltz in my champagne, as I recuperated from the suffocating mass of bodies.

A movement to my right caught my eye and I turned my head to see a man walking through the large double door entrance way to the room. He wore a tuxedo that fitted his frame perfectly, with no tie or bowtie and the top few buttons of his shirt undone to leave the muscles around his neck clearly visible. He carried a cane with him, occasionally using it, but mainly swinging it at his side in his white gloved hands.

This is in itself was unusual, but was not what initially caught my eyes. No, my eyes had been dragged by his long vibrant green hair that was slicked neatly back in place and the bright red lips that were only emphasised by his very pale, almost alabaster skin.

I couldn’t seem to look away from him, I was too intrigued by his appearance and the power he seemed to just exude as he stood there surveying the room. There was something very odd about him and I was certain he couldn’t have been on the guest list – so how did he get in?

He looked almost bored as he glared out into the room. He held himself different from anyone else, with a vast amount of self-confidence that suggested he was far more important than any of the other millionaires in the room and he seemed to be almost assessing the room, like a lion assessing a herd of prey. The look in his eyes made me shiver.

The movement seemed to catch his eye and his gaze darted straight to mine. I was used to people trying to stare me down to intimidate me - and I was good at holding my own -but the intensity of the look he gave me seemed to burn my eyes and the itch to drop my gaze was agonizing.

He started to step toward me, and even his walk was different, it was precise and graceful and it felt like he was stalking me. It was only as he got closer that his appearance became stranger, he didn’t have any eyebrows, and there was a ‘Damaged’ written in cursive on his forehead and a small J under his left eye.

“Well hello there...” He growled, eyeing me up and down, swinging his cane as he approached. “Aren’t you… Beautiful…” He snarled, his voice sounding sinful and - though I scowled at his vulgarity - I wasn’t nearly as disgusted as I should have been, instead I could feel my temperature rise by a few degrees. He held my gaze a bit longer, the icy blue seeming to trap me.

“Why don’t you be a doll, doll, and go get the man in charge.” He purred at me, breaking the eye contact off and surveying the crowded room.

"You’re looking at her, doll.” I mimicked, not amused by his patronising comment.

He raised his invisible eyebrows at me, “Hmm,” The pale man seemed to consider me with interest, “Fiery little cracker aren't ya, doll?” He asked, stepping closer towards me with a sneer on his face. I read the power play in his movements, many a man having tried this on me before - even Matt had attempt it when we first met. I stood my ground, reminding myself repeatedly that I could have this man thrown out of here easily – though I would prefer not to make a scene.

“No, sir.” I replied firmly, not amused by his childish mocking, “ I am just a woman hosting an important business gala with a very strict guest list. And I am certain that no child entertainers were required.” I told him sternly, eyeing him up and down with a look of distaste - though I had to admit some of it was forced - the sight in front of me not wholly unappealing.

The man’s upper lip curled at my comment, “Oh I can show you entertainment doll,” He purred threateningly, stepping even closer.

“Another step, and security will be in this room in less than 2 seconds, I guarantee it.” I warned him fiercely, standing tall and confident in my heels, determined now not give in under his intense blue stare.

He didn’t come any closer, but he also didn’t retreat, he just stood, a wide grin now stretching across his face and showing metal caps on the visible teeth, the shiny surface glinting in the overhead lights.

“So, tell me doll…” He growled lowly, placing his cane in front of him and leaning over on it so he came closer to me without taking a step, I scowled at him. “Who are you?”

“Who are you, and why are you here?” I asked instead, not willing to play his little game.

He grinned at me, “You don’t watch a lot of news do ya, doll?” He asked, a knowing gleam in his eyes that I didn’t like. I scowled at him moodily, “jeez doll, are you always this grumpy? He asked with a hint of mocking in his tone. “Won’t give without a take, hmm?” he asked with a tilt of his head, “Alright doll, first you, then me.”

I stared at him coldly, still refusing to be ordered around by this unusual man.

“Fine!” He moaned dramatically, exaggerating his eyes roll at my stubbornness. “I'll start.” He said, “I'm here to rob the place.”

At first, I thought this was just more of his seemingly twisted humour, but he sounded so serious…

“I'm calling security.” I stated, no longer wanting to put up with this strange man, and I made to move past him, heading towards the service phone I knew was out in the hallway.

“Ah ah ah, doll.” He tutted at me, swinging his arm out to catch me as I strode past him. He was stronger than his thin, chiselled face led me to believe and I could feel the muscles in his arm flex under his jacket as he wrestled me backwards. One step back from me was all he needed and he swiftly pulled his arm back, now pushing a sharp point into my stomach. I gasped, tensing my stomach, trying to withdraw it from the point, but too scared what he might do if I moved. “Don't be such a tattle tale,” He sang playfully in my ear and then placed more pressure on the knife, the point digging through my dress and into my skin. I was forced to step backwards, and he only eased up when I was back to my original position.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” I demanded, though keeping my voice low to avoid making a huge scene over something I hoped I could handle.

He held up a finger to me, gesturing for me to wait, then, keeping the knife against my stomach, he used his other hand to dig into his jacket pocket to pull out a playing card which he handed over to me face down.

I took it wordlessly, wondering if he suddenly wanted to perform a magic trick. I frowned at him confused and turned the card over to reveal a joker.

I shook my head in confusion, “I don’t –“ I began, when I suddenly remembered. It was true, I didn’t watch a lot of local news, especially if nothing to do with stock markets – I didn’t have the time, I usually had someone else just produce a summary for me of all the daily costs and profits that would come in due to local occurrences – but I had heard the name Joker. An escape of Arkham Asylum and a crime lord on the streets of Gotham.

Was it time to get someone’s attention now? Should I scream?

Suddenly there was a finger inches away from my face, “Not a word doll.” He purred, pressing the knife harder into my stomach and I gasped.

“You're going to rob this place on your own?” I scoffed through the pain, trying to keep my cool, even if I was at knife point.

"Never underestimate a man without a plan!” He grinned sadistically at me and I could see the true sick and twisted nature in his eyes.

“Now doll…” He snarled dangerously, “Shall we continue?” He asked, his voice suddenly sickly sweet and painfully pleasant, “What is your name and what is it you do?”

I swallowed, trying not to move my stomach against the weapon too much. I was truly afraid for my life now, the truth of my situation only too clear now. “My name is Leah. I'm a partner of INK.” I quoted out as the knife bit into my skin.

“Wow, doll. A real successful business woman.” He seemed impressed, “Who are the other partners?” He asked, pushing even harder on the knife.

“Just my husband.” I gasped, scrunching my eyes closed at the pain, the pressure forcing me to bend over slightly.

He retracted the knife slightly, giving me a small amount of relief, “Your husband, hmm?” He asked, as though generally intrigued, “And where is he?”

I didn’t know why the psychotic clown wanted to know and I definitely didn’t want to answer – I wouldn’t sell out my husband to this criminal clown, but I also knew I was about to be skewered with a knife if I didn’t tell him. “Whatever you want with him you can take up with me!” I told him fiercely.

“Brave, doll, I see.” He muttered, nodding, “But that wasn’t an answer to the question, was it?”He snarled, “So, I’ll ask again,” He said, a fierceness in his voice this time that made me cower until his gaze, “Where. Is. He?”

I swallowed again, trying to embrace the pain like I knew some people were able to. I continued to refuse to answer, staring at him in a stubborn silence, fighting against the tears of pain that were threatening in the corners of my eyes.

“Come on now, doll.” He urged, his teeth clenched together like he was restraining himself from doing something, “It’s only a simple question of interest,” He sneered, “Promise I won't harm him.” He pleaded mockingly, but at the same time I felt the knife again, and I scrunched my face at the pain.

What was I going to do? He had promised not to hurt him after all. Sure, I doubted an Arkham patient and crime lord was going to be a man of his word, but it was better than nothing right? Or was that just the pain and alcohol talking?

I didn’t want to be the reason Mathew got hurt, but here I was being basically tortured into giving information.

Whilst I debated in my head, eyes on the floor, and partially doubled over in pain, the Joker leant over me, bending down to my ear, “If he was in your position, would he be as gallant for you?” His warm breath brushed past my ear and I wasn’t sure if I trembled or shivered, the movement causing the knife to cut a bit deeper.

Would he, though? I wondered. I wanted to say I couldn’t be sure, but deep down I felt like I knew the answer.

I pulled myself upright slightly, ignoring the protest of my skin as the blade point scraped down my skin. At the movement, the Joker released some of the pressure on the knife, giving me a brief relief from the pain, though the now-tender skin still stung with the memory.

I didn’t say anything, feeling the knife drop away completely as I turned my back on the Joker. I scanned the crowded room until my gaze fell on a group of three men in suits stood chatting, each holding a small glass of an amber liquid. My eyes focused on the tallest man, neatly shaven, his brown hair combed neatly back and in a smart black suit with a crisp white shirt underneath.

“Ahh...” the Joker breathed behind me, confirming that he had seen the man. “Now tell me doll, has he even spared a moment for you this evening, hmm?” He asked quietly in my ear, another shiver passing down my spine at his breath on my neck and how close he was behind me.

My eyes were glued to my husband’s figure, begging him to turn around and look at me, see the fear and panic in my eyes, if only for a moment.

But he didn't feel my gaze on the side of his face, or if he did, he chose to ignore it, continuing his conversation animatedly, without a care to the trauma his wife was experiencing across the room.

“Shame.” Purred the Joker behind me and I felt his hand drift to my hip, the knife point now digging into my back.

tags: @carouselcurls @6fish6 (I wasn't sure who wanted to be tagged in this as it's not Deadly voice - but the 2 I have tagged seemed to enjoy all my work so I thought you might want to read it?)

#joker fanfic #joker fan fiction #strictly business #strictly business part 1 #strictly business fan fiction #strictly business fanfic #joker x oc #joker x oc fan fiction #joker x oc fanfic #joker fanfiction #jokersenigma #jokersenigma fanfic #jokersenigma fan fiction #jokersenigma fanfiction

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thejokersenigma · 7 years

Text

Joker x Reader - Deadly Voice Part 45

Hi guys, next bits ready-ish.

Hope you guys enjoy it, I might be a bit busy this week so the next part might be bit delayed, I'll see how I do! :)

Enjoy!

As always - I'll happily take any requests you want me to give a go. Also if you'd rather read this on something other than tumblr I am on Fanfiction.net, Wattpad and AO3 under a similar username :)

Also if you want to be tagged, just let me know! :)

MASTERIST

I didn’t see the Joker for the rest of the day. I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening hiding amongst the other rooms in the house, occasionally sneaking into the kitchen for snacks, but generally gravitating to the smaller front room with the piano. I ensured the door was closed and, once I had made a trip to the library – I had a small collection of books to amuse myself with.

Eventually it reached the point that my eyes blurred too much from reading the small text and I gave up for the night, placing my books to the side for tomorrow when I would no doubt return and continue.

I headed straight up the stairs, debating with myself what I should do. Did I return to the Joker’s room? Did I find a new room to sleep in tonight? Either as I considered that though, a new wave of exhaustion washed over me as I climbed the staircase and I doubted I would get away with and I was far too tired to want to put up much of a fight to whoever came to find me.

So, I returned to the Joker’s room, my feet dragging along the carpeted corridor – except from outside the Joker’s office which I made sure to hurry past. I wasn’t sure why – maybe I was worried he’d catch me out there, or maybe I was worried I hear my voice again.

I reached the bedroom door without incident and I stepped into the room, closing the dark heavy door behind me firmly. It was only as I turned to face the rest of the room again that I realised there was a chance I wasn’t alone in here. A quick scan of the room showed no one, but I still snuck quietly around the rest of the room, checking the smaller roads that led off. Only when I confirmed these to be clear, could I then allow myself to relax a little.

I headed back to the walk-in closet, this time clocking the fact that the heap of clothes I had left earlier that day was missing. I dug back through the cupboards, searching for the Joker’s shirt and sweatpants – assuming someone had tidied up after me – but they had vanished completely from the room.

“Fine,” I muttered under my breath, “I’ll just sleep in what I’m wearing.” I huffed in annoyance and left the closet, refusing to give into the frilly small pieces of fabric that still sat in my side of the wardrobe.

Once using the bathroom and ready to turn in, I headed to the large 4 poster bed. I stood at the side of it, eyeing up the large, heavy queen-sized duvet. The bed almost looked intimidating to me and it was weird to think I was going to willingly climb into the Joker’s bed – everything about my situation right now told me not to do it, but I felt I had no other option right now – the Joker had made that clear to me and Frost had confirmed it when he seemed to think I had narrowly missed a far worse consequence last time.

Besides, the pillows did look comfy.

I pulled back the duvet partially - ready to climb into the tall bed – when I discovered a small pile of clothes in front of me on top of the sheet. I frown in confusion, reaching for the piece of clothing on the top, unfolding it and holding it up in front of me. My heart jumped a bit when I realised it was the ARKHAM sweatpants I had borrowed last night, and, yes, now I looked down at the neatly folding shirt left on the bed – that was the same shirt I had worn last night.

My eyes widen in surprise and a I felt a small smile rise on my face. I quickly caught it, stamping it down. Shit. At least the Joker wasn’t here to see it – who knew that him just letting me wear the clothes I’d stolen would make me that happy.

Stupid. I cursed before grabbing the clothes and changing into them – relishing in the bagginess compared to the skinny jeans and tight-fitting T-shirt I had been wearing.

I climbed into the bed, relaxing onto the cushiony pillow and thick spongy mattress. I revelled the luxurious softness around me as I lay there, staring up at the dark canopy above. My mind wide awake.

The Joker sat at his desk reading and rereading the same blue print, his mind unable to concentrate - the voices unusually loud in his head.

He grabbed at his head, curling his fingers into claws into his hair, growling angrily. “Shut up!” He snarled, pulling at the green strands, not caring or noticing the pain in his scalp. The voices didn’t listen though, if anything they increased through his frustration.

He clenched him jaw, his teeth protesting under the force. They had seemed louder all day since the silence of last night. It made it impossible to think straight – not that he usually did - but to plan a heist needed some clear thoughts. He blamed [Y/N]. She had taken away his blissful ignorance. She had quietened them for a small moment, just long enough to show him what it could be like and now they were back – louder than ever. It was torturous.

Speaking of [Y/N].

Her voice was echoing around his large office along with the keys of the old piano, as he replayed the CCTV camera footage from the front room earlier this afternoon. The Joker pressed a button on the keypad on his right and one of the many screens in front of him flickered, the music cutting out and now there was a different camera footage of a different room of the house, the icon blinking in the upper right-hand corner showing it was live.

It was his room.

He had heard her pass his office as she had headed up the stairs and along the corridor – her light footsteps completely different to the thudding of the henchman that he usually heard outside his door. He watched as she entered into the room from the bottom of the screen, moving slowly around the room and obviously suspicious, before she disappeared back into the walk-in closet. He smirked to himself – he liked how he made her so uncomfortable and nervy.

He waited for her to return - his eyes not leaving the black and white screen – and a few moments later she did. He wasn’t surprised to see that she hadn’t got changed – the girl was stubborn if nothing else. He watched her walk across the room, never breaking his gaze from the moving image.

She paused at the bed, hesitating before pulling back the cover and then pausing again. The distance of the camera meant he couldn’t see clearly what the black smudge on the bed was, but the Joker knew. Per his orders, the staff of the house had tidied up the clothes left in the closet and had laid out [Y/N]’s makeshift ‘pyjamas’ on the bed for the evening.

The Joker couldn’t be sure, but he thought the pixels of [Y/N]’s face had formed a brief smile.

I tried to sleep for hours.

I finally managed to drift off to sleep for a few moments, before I awoke once more. I looked at the time and groaned in annoyance when I found I had been asleep for no more than 20 minutes. I turned over for the billionth time, groaning again into the pillow.

I wished this night was over. I was sick of lying in this bed and not getting any sleep when I felt so exhausted, yet my mind would not silence long enough for me to sleep.

After a while of lying face down in the pillow I found my breathing becoming restricted so I turned my head, lying so I stared wake awake at the empty pillow across from me.

Where was the Joker? – Not that I wanted him here – But it must be at least 2am by now – was he sleeping somewhere else? Or was he just not going to sleep at all?

I remembered the tired look in his eyes that I had noticed earlier, the dark shadows that framed his cheeks. That man needed some sleep – maybe then he’d had fewer mood swings all the time.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was climbing out of bed and making my way to the bedroom door, swinging it open and striding out into the hallway. Without much of a falter, I took the right direction down the dark corridors and began to head to the staircase.

Now would be a good time for common sense to break through and for me to actually stop and think what I was doing.

But I didn’t.

I just continued on my path, pushing any thoughts, apart from the direction I was heading in, out of my mind.

That was, until I bumped into a solid post.

“Ah!” I cried as I stumbled backwards. I probably would have overbalanced and fallen over my own feet as well if it wasn’t for the fact that a strong hand reach out and grabbed one of my arms. I was yanked back upright – none too softly – and I toppled forward instead, colliding once more with the hard post in front of me.

I flung my arms out to save myself and ended up wrapping them around the pillar – only to find it wasn’t a pillar or a post.

It was a man’s body.

I abruptly pushed myself off the poor man I had just assaulted, mumbling a quick apology. Somewhere in the dark corridor a light was hit and a dim light came on over our heads – though even this was blinding to my eyes for a few moments. I squinted at the man in front of me and, even though my vision was still not quite clear, the green hair and pale skin could only belong to one person.

I had just collided into the Joker.

“Where do you think you’re going, doll?” He asked smoothly, but his voice held a warning in it and he hadn’t released my arm.

“Um – uh – I - .” I stuttered, the surprise encounter making me lose my chain of thought.

“Spit it out doll.” He pressed, irked by inability to speak coherently and he pulled my arm impatiently.

“Well you see, Mr Joker, I –“ I began, my exhausted mind finding an explanation that didn’t sound ridiculous difficult and deciding being cringingly polite was the right way to go about this.

“J.” He corrected.

I frowned up at him, “What?” I asked crudely.

“Call me J, doll.” He clarified, “None of that formalness.” He brushed away my previous remark.

“Ok – well, ‘J’” I started again, “I couldn’t sleep and I –“

“Thought you’d take a moonlit stroll, doll?” He asked snidely.

“No, I –“

“Thought you’d go sightseeing?” He interrupted again. “Secret admirer waiting for you?” He kept pressing, each question more sounding more scathing then the last.

“No.” I snarled, “I thought I’d see if you were going to sleep at all tonight!” I cried out, angrily, annoyed at his sardonic attitude when I was just trying to be nice to my host. “But I can see you’re just going to snarky and rude – so goodnight!” I snapped and spun back the way I had come, snatching my arm free from his hand.

There was pause for a beat as I headed off down the corridor, back the way I had come, before my upper arm was grabbed from behind, “Aww, but doll.” The Joker protested as he pulled me to a stop. I refused to turn around, so he stepped around me till I was forced to face him. I dropped my gaze, even though I couldn’t actually see his face very well now, having left the light behind us in the few strides I had taken. “My snarkiness is only redeeming quality.” He explained teasingly to the top of my head, until he gripped my chin, pulling it up, “Don’t make me get rid of that!” He cried dramatically, but I refused to be placated, keeping my frown in place.

I wrenched my chin from his grip and went to push by him. But he caught me as I moved past, winding his arm around my waist and holding me in place whilst he stepped behind me and held me against his chest.

“I’ll make you a deal, I’ll go to bed, if you go to bed, what da’ya say?” He breathed into my ear, his voice suddenly laced in a seductive tone. His warm breath in my ear and the promises in his voice made me weak and giddy, though I knew it was all wrong.

“I’d say why does everything have to be a deal with you?” I asked shakily, trying to sound strong - though I was anything but that right now – and trying to inch my body away from his own, worried it would betray me.

“Because then I know you’ll uphold your end of the bargain, doll.” He purred, running his free hand down the side of my body, keeping his face close to my ear and pulling me tighter against his chest as he felt my resistance.

“Fine.” I said quickly – anything to get out of this situation right now – and pulling against him again. This time he let me go, staying in place whilst I stepped ahead, turning back to him. “I’m going to bed.” I told him firmly and hurried off down the corridor, practically fleeing and half hoping he wouldn’t follow me.

Why couldn’t I have just stayed in bed? Now I didn’t know what was going to happen but I was pretty sure I had just convinced an insane murdering lunatic to come and sleep in bed next to me.

I was messed up.

I found the room quickly, closing the door behind me – as though, somehow, that would be a deterrent to him – and climbed into bed in the dark. I pulled the covers over me and curled into a tight ball - pretending to be asleep, or at least close to asleep – praying for the slimmest hope that the Joker might just leave me in peace then.

I heard movement down the corridor outside the room and my heart raced. Then the door opened, the bottom scraping along the thick carpet, and then it closed with a frim thud. I screwed my eyes closed tightly but I couldn’t help my ears focusing on every little noise, the tread of footsteps on the carpet, the sound of the tap turning on in the bathroom.

Finally, after many tortuous moments that seemed to take far too long, the bed sunk behind me and I felt a body lie next to mine. I tried to keep my breath even and slow like I was sleeping and I thought I was safe when nothing happened for a few moments.

I jumped, however, when I felt something brush my back and then familiar arms snuck around me, pulling me back against the same hard chest as earlier.

“Why so tense, doll?” J breathed into my hair, making a shiver shoot down my back. I could feel every muscle was wound ridiculously tight, unsure what was happening or would happen next. “Relax.” He breathed again next to my ear. I needed to get his hands off my body. This was wrong. This was why I hadn’t wanted to sleep in this room in the first place.

But I didn’t do anything. It was like I was frozen in place, waiting for something to trigger me into action.

“Speaking of deals…” He purred, referring back to our conversation a few moments ago, “I know a sure way to put a smile on your face…” He purred suggestively, pulling me closer and running his left hand down my body.

I could feel myself trembling under his touch, “No.” I said firmly, trying to pull away as much as I could, but slightly afraid to as well - not sure what he would do at my refusal, this was a crazed murderer after all. His hand froze on my hip at my reaction and I was worried what he was about to do, but then he withdrew it slowly, as though not to spook me.

“Doll?” He asked, but I didn’t move for a few moments, I couldn’t hear any anger or danger in his voice, but I was still afraid in case I set him off. “Doll?” He asked again, moving to grab me, but I shuffled away from him slightly before I then sat up, looking down at my lap. I took a breath and collected all the courage I had left.

I turned to him with confidence I didn’t feel, a professional air about me as though we were in one of his meetings, not both in bed together. “How about we make another deal.” I proposed. He watched me in the darkness, “You accused me that declining your offers out was cheating, right?” I asked quickly before he could interrupt me, the darkness hiding his face which helped my confidence a bit. I thought I saw him nod, “Well,” I continued, “I won’t cheat by refusing to do things, if you don’t cheat by making sexual advances on me, deal?” I asked hurriedly and I wondered if he actually understood a word I had so, or if I had spoken too fast.

He seemed to regard this in silence for a few moments and I was petrified he’d say no – I didn’t have any other ideas to get out of this situation I had made. “You drive a hard bargain, kitten.” He drawled, as though still thinking about his options, “Deal.” He finally declared, his voice not giving away any emotion.

In the dark I felt him shift on the bed so he no longer faced me, I lay back down, staring up at the darkness once more.

“Um – J.” I asked into the darkness.

“What doll?” He asked, sounding a bit irked and a bit tired.

I hesitated a moment, worried it was a stupid question and he’d just get angry – but I wanted to know, “Why are you still in your clothes?” I had felt the buckle of his belt on my back and his shirt on my skin when he held me.

“I sleep in the nude.” He told me, “Didn’t think you’d appreciate that, kitten."

“Uh – no.” I stuttered in surprise. “T-thanks.” I could feel my cheeks burning and I was glad for the darkness and his back being turned. None the less I swear I heard him chuckle at me.

tags: @6fish6 @carouselcurls @theartistdetective @viraldragonrider @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @toxic-ink

#jokerxreader #joker x reader #joker x reader fan fiction #joker x reader fan fic #joker fan fiction #joker fan fic #deadly voice #deadly voice fan fiction #deadly voice part 45 #deadly voice fan fic #joker x oc #joker x oc fan fic #joker x oc fan fiction #joker x oc fanfic #jokerxoc #jokersenigma #jokersenigma fan fiction #jokersenigma fan fic

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thejokersenigma · 7 years

Text

Joker x OC - Fan Fiction Request - Strictly Business Part 2

Hi guys, this is the part 2 to the fan fiction request I got from an anon:

I apologise now, I felt like I was losing the Joker character a bit, so if you feel that I do apologise - I'll try better in the next part!

I hope you enjoy anyway and that it's still what the anon wanted! :S

P.S If you want to be tagged in any of my work let me know (and which pieces you want to be tagged in!)

Also, I welcome any requests you'd like to throw in my direction, be it Joker or other fandoms - I'll give anything a go! :D

MASTERLIST

Strictly Business MASTERLIST

The Joker’s breath on my neck was sending shivers down me, his hand at my hip heated the skin beneath and the knife point dug into my back. I tried to shift away from his contact - the sensations from his touch overwhelming me in a way that alarmed me, almost pushing the knife to the back of my mind. I tried to shift my body away from him - but his grip just tightened on me, holding me in place. I bit my bottom lip, to hold back any noise as the knife dug deeper into my lower back, my eyes still on the crowd, focused on my husband on the other side of the room, still attempting to get him to look at me.

“He doesn’t notice, doll.” Purred the Joker, “He doesn’t care…” He drawled sardonically, like a devil on my shoulder, his warm breath heating my neck and the warming sensation running down my entire body. Suddenly I no longer felt the knife on my back, instead his now-free left hand reached for my other hip. “He doesn’t appreciate you like a real man should…” He growled huskily, his hands running up my sides and burning their own path up my body.

I swallowed thickly, closing my eyes and losing sight of Mathew, embarrassed by how turned on I was by this man that just a moment ago had wielded a knife at me. I had always prided myself on being clear and calculating at all times - straight minded, never gullible. But this man – this criminal – he was able to just touch me, say a few crude words and I was at a loss as to who I even was or what I should be doing.

I should be frightened, terrified for my life. And I was. But that was very quickly fading to be replaced with something I had never experienced before and – though it alarmed me – I couldn’t deny the fact that I liked it. Wanted it. In this very moment, nothing else crossed my mind but the sensations running through my body and the little niggling fact that this was really wrong. Though, right now, I couldn’t remember why. The ability to protest and attempt to move from his touch – even if he let me – was severely lacking.

His left hand had now moved to my bare shoulder and he slid his palm down my arm - the touch leaving goosebumps in its path - until his pale fingers enveloped mine.

“How about I be your stand in man for the night, doll?” He asked in my ear, and I could almost feel the roguish smirk on his face behind me.

“What?” I asked surprised, causing me to open my eyes, his words only having just gained meaning in my clouded mind. A moment ago, he had been declaring to me he was about to rob the place, now he was asking – what was he asking?

“A little service I’ll supply, kitten, if you keep your pretty lips shut on the robbery.” He murmured seductively at my neck.

I kept my gaze ahead, refusing to look at him in case my mind was only further clouded, “W-why would I want that?” I asked in surprise – though every part of me screamed that I wanted that.

With a soft tug at my hand, he signalled for me to turn and I let him pull me round until I faced him. I didn’t immediately look at his face, keeping my gaze low at his exposed chest – not that the view was helping me focus any better. He didn’t say anything until I looked up, meeting his clear blue eyes more and forcing myself to swallow again as my throat went dry.

Content that I was looking at him again, he continued, “You can be my queen for the night,” He purred down at me,” His eyes bright and excited, “And I’ll be a bit of candy for your arm,” explained, with a devilishly grin and a wink, “I’ll make your little ex-man jealous.” He added, and I thought I saw his eyes darken slightly at the mention of Mathew.

I scowled at him, “Mathew’s my husband, not my ex!” I told him, confused why he would say that.

“Oh?” He said, raising his invisible eyebrows in question, “I don’t see a ring on your finger.” he said innocently, pulling up the hand he still held until it was between us. He released enough of my hand to show that my fingers were bare. I frowned in confusion - I was sure I had been wearing it. I didn’t wear it a lot, but at any event like this it was always reliably found on my left ring finger, I even remembered putting it on earlier because it took me a while to find it.

The Joker watched my confusion, his face innocently impassive, but I saw the humour shining in his eyes and I scowled at him suspiciously. He released my hand completely now and I let it drop as I watched him open his empty left hand, palm facing me. He then flicked his hand so quickly I barely saw the movement and - by some sleight of hand - he now had my wedding band between his thumb and forefinger, a wide grin on his face.

“Now you’re single, doll.” He said with a smirk, “How about a dance?”

I wanted to say no. Didn’t I?

No words left my mouth as I fought an inner battle. Everything in me was screaming not – he was criminal – a crime lord in fact – who had threated to, and still could easily, carve me up with the knife in his pocket if I made a false move. But something about him seemed to appeal and fascinate me, sparking a new voice in my head to want to agree to his offer – a voice which was loudly having a tantrum against any reason given by the sane parts of my mind.

Despite the war in my head, when the Joker held out his hand for mine I had the urge to be young and carefree again and I roughly shoved aside my common sense and took the hand that was offered - deciding to do something risky and poorly thought out one more time in my life.

The Joker gripped my hand firmly - as though sealing my fate and preventing me from backing out of my decision - and he pulled me along with him into the small group of couples who were spinning aimlessly on the dance floor.

The Joker stopped in an empty space and pulled me toward him, his left hand taking my right and lifting his up, his other right hand finding my back as I gingerly placed my hand on his shoulder. He noticed my hesitation, “I won’t bite, doll.” He promised, before bending down to my ear, “Unless you beg for it.” He breathed, and I could feel my temperature rise by a few degrees as my cheeks flared. I couldn’t meet his eyes, instead, keeping my gaze to my feet as I tried to recall the steps for this dance, attempting to ignore the chuckle from the man in front of me as he laughed at my embarrassment.

“Does your hubby dance with you, doll?” He asked and I brought my gaze back to his to see a grin on his face that suggested he already knew the answer.

I scowled at him and his smugness, “If I’m going to do this with you,” I told him, “You’re going to have to not bring him up.” I warned.

He raised his eyebrows dropping his face in an aggregated frown, mocking my seriousness, but also seeming to understand he had hit a tender spot because he agreed grudgingly, “Alright doll, new topic.”

He gazed around the hall before his wide smile sprang back into place, causing – I noticed – the dark shadows under his eyes to lighten slightly, “So tell me doll,” he began, still facing into the crowd, “who’s worth the effort of robbing in this puffed up parade.” He asked, glancing sideways at me with interest, the live band to my right just finishing the song.

I looked at him, outraged – so he was still set on robbing the place - “I’m not telling you that!” I cried indignantly as the next song started up behind my back and the Joker kept us swaying.

“Come on now, doll, play the game!” He whined, his eyes teasing, “Make me guess and I’ll get it right,” he warned, and the gleam in his eyes told me he was telling the truth, “Now’s your chance to change that – take control of the pieces and rig the game for yourself.” He said, spinning us around in time to the music.

My hair danced on my shoulder, a few strands flying out to the side as we twirled, and I realised he was right. I liked to think I had a slightly unique take on this world – one few others in this room had because I hadn’t been born into money. I hadn’t been granted my high-ranking job because of my money and power, I had crawled from nothing to everything. I knew how to play the game and I saw things the rest of them didn’t. Like how the man in front of me didn’t quite fit into this sort of company, but they just didn’t see him or his brightly coloured hair – he wasn’t an important CEO or tradesman so they were blind to him – he might as well no existent. They had eyes for the deals. I had eyes for everything and anything I could use to my advantage.

I had the rare opportunity here to directly affect a few choice individuals whose losses would only give me more gain. I stared over his shoulder at nothing as I thought things through. I then my gaze back to this where he had been watching my face intently, I gave him a hard stare and then slowly and deliberately turned my gaze to certain individuals, letting my eyes linger on them for a few moments on each of them.

The Joker watched my every movement, noting the people I highlighted, “Much appreciated, doll.” Chuckled the Joker with a grin, clearly pleased by my willingness to play along.

I comforted myself with the fact I hadn’t actually ‘pointed’ them out - I had just happened to look at them a bit longer - no words had left my lips.

They would probably only lose a few hundred grand after all - nothing for these people – but maybe just enough to knock them off their high pedestals and allow me to seize a few rare deals that might suddenly become available.

We continued to dance for the rest of the song until the Joker slowly stepped us to the side of the open floor, “Sorry, doll - duty calls.” He grinned devilishly before disappearing amongst the crowd, blending in with the many suits even with his vibrant hair.

I remained where he left me for a few moments before I gathered myself together and wandered to one of the refreshment tables, seeking a strong drink to try to knock some sense back into me.

The moment had been nice whilst it lasted, I thought, as I sipped my glass of whiskey, but now I needed to think straight again. The alcohol heated my throat and burnt a hot path down my body as I swallowed. All to similar what he had made me feel with his touch alone, I thought, immediately regretting my choice of drink and downing the rest quickly, making a face at the punch of sharp alcohol on my taste buds. I reached for a glass of champagne instead – maybe I needed to drink myself through this whole thing, I thought to myself as I pulled out my phone and started checking my emails.

Just then Mathew approached my side, I gave him a weak smile of greeting, but he didn’t return it, instead he immediately turned so he was directly in front of me, his back to the rest of the crowded room, “Who was that you were dancing with?” He asked, trying to act nonchalant but I could see through him.

Now was my chance to say. Now I could stop the thefts, save everyone a bit of money – be a hero, maybe even get the police here in time to catch him red handed. I didn’t bother to look up from my phone at him. “No one.” I answered simply.

I heard Mathew huff beside me, immediately accepting my answer as truth, “Next time try to catch someone who could actually be of use to us.” He scolded me. I didn’t show a sign of listening – deciding to ignore him this time like he had ignored me earlier when I had needed his help.

He remained in front of me for a few moments as I typed away at my device and I knew what he wanted – he wanted me to ask how his talks and bargaining had gone – probably because he had managed to make a deal he wanted to brag about. But I wasn’t in the mood to boost his ego anymore, to be honest I wanted him gone.

It didn’t take long for him to leave – though I doubted it was due to my subtle hinting – returning to his schmoozing of the more important people in the room.

I hadn’t let my expression change when he had stood next to me, but now I allowed myself to feel the harsh sting. Was that all I was now? I thought to myself - just a body to throw at possible clients or CEOs to seduce them into deals? I was quite happy using myself for that – it was my choice – but when someone else was using me that way it kind of hurt. I had more to offer than that. What about all the times I had come in with right word just at Mathew was about to blow a deal, or riled someone up too much? And what about all the success I had managed before he had arrived on the scene a year ago? Was that worth nothing anymore?

I kept my eyes on my phone, trying to distract myself with the screen, but I was shocked when I felt a tear roll down my cheek. I hadn’t cried in years – I couldn’t afford to – there were no feelings in this game, it made you weak – especially if you were a woman, men were looking for any reason they could find to feel superior over females in this world.

I blamed the Joker for making me this pathetic – for making me feel again. Or maybe it was my fault – maybe, against my better judgement – I had thought my marriage was based off more than a list of conditions and a signed contract – no longer just a simple mutual benefit - but of something else?

But clearly not.

Huh, I smirk glumly to myself, looked like I had gained feelings for Mathew as he had lost them toward me.

I picked up one of the napkins next to me, wiping at an invisible lipstick smudge in the glass window behind me, quickly bring it up to brush at my eyes so no one saw my weaknesses on display.

A hand suddenly grabbed my upper arm and I jumped at the touch, immediately spinning around to come face to face with a familiar pale, tattooed face again.

“Not bad tonight, doll.” He praised with his familiar grin, and - if he saw my tears - he didn’t comment on them, “but I know for a fact that you cheated me out of some serious buck.” He continued, eyeing me seriously, though he didn’t seem too disappointed about it, and his eyes held no danger. “So, doll - tell me – who is the richest in the room?” He asked with a sly grin, intrigued.

I was glad he hadn’t seen my tears, or was choosing to ignore them, I didn’t want to explain myself – it would be embarrassing, complicated and a bit of me worried I would go down in his opinion. I sniffed once, blinking away any remaining waterworks and emotions before facing his question with my usual composure.

I knew I shouldn’t answer truthfully – should lie – but I also knew that when I was around him my morals seemed to go out of the window – he seemed to spark odd behaviour in me, a crazy and daringness that I never usually felt. And right now, when I was slowly feeling myself crumble under my new realisations and the alcohol in my system – I really needed something like that. I was feeling reckless.

“You’re looking at her.” I said simply with a smart smirk.

A light lit up in his eyes that I couldn’t understand and he grinned widely at me. “In that case, doll, you owe me another dance.”

I knew the last thing I should do was spend more time with the criminal, but I also didn’t want to stand on the side-lines with my thoughts right now. The truth was, I wanted to be lost in the moment with him again like I had been earlier, where I hadn’t had a thought for anything but the unusual and alluring man in front of me.

I didn’t get a chance to reject his offer however - even if I wanted to – as the Joker took advantage of my hesitation and grabbed me, pulling me back onto the dance floor. I followed after him, and he pulled me back up against him, resuming our previous position, but this time he seemed to hold me closer and tighter than before – but maybe that was just me.

We danced in silence for a few rotations around the floor, this time I initiated the conversation, “so have you done it?” I asked, looking up at him, intrigued.

Humour shone in his eyes, “Ooh, kitten, are you taking an interest in my work?” He asked with a mischievous grin, “Yes, doll, it’s all set up.”

“So now you make your grand escape?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

He laughed, the sound slightly haunting and causing me to shiver, “That’s the plan, doll.”

“How are you going to do it?” I asked as though I was wondering nothing but how he was going to afford a new car, or catch a taxi. I was truly feeling careless and free with him, my insecurities and worries gone with his presence and one too many glasses of champagne.

“There are plenty of options, doll.” The Joker grinned as we continued to sway to the music, I could just walk out the same way I came in.” He purred, his breath brushing the top of my head.

“Boring.” I said simply, my eyes staring, unseeing over his shoulder and my voice catching in my throat as the warm air fanning through my hair.

“I could kill you and a few others,” he proposed, “and disappear in the ensuing chaos.” The growl in his voice rumbled through his chest and resonated through my own body that was closely pressed to his.

“Boring.” I said, again, not deaf to the darkness in his growl, but still unfazed by the comment on my possible murder. His words meant nothing to me whilst I was here in his arms, I felt safe despite his words and, when I pulled back enough to see his face clearly, I could see no danger in his eyes.

His eyes seemed to grow hungry then as he studied my face and reaction, “I could take you as a hostage,” He growled, “Bet your pretty husband over there would pay a hefty sum for you.” He snarled, a strange anger seeming to overcome him.

At the mention of Mathew, I could feel my face drop, suddenly reminded of my earlier pain, “Good luck with that.” I scoffed, still hurt, “I doubt I’m important enough for that. You’d be better off with someone like Bruce Wayne,” I suggested bitterly, “he’s all my husband cares about at the moment.”

“Ah, but is he here in my arms, doll?” Joker teased with a grin, though this eyes still seemed to have a shadow over them.

I ignored his joking, turning my head so I now gazed out the large glass window to my left, the view extending over the sprawling city lit up below us. “Even if he did pay, that would be it.” I mused glumly, “He wouldn’t bat an eyelid at the amount you demanded – he’s rolling in it.”

I paused as I stared out at the city, thinking things through in my mind, I was surprised when the Joker didn’t say anything, happy for me to sit in my thoughts as we twirled across the floor. “And that’s not what you want,” I said after a moment, turning back to face him and eyeing him in thought. He sneered at me, entertained by how serious I suddenly was, clearly working something out in my mind. “You want something that’ll shake them, not just hit their wallets,” I predicted his excitement infectious, “you want to throw them into chaos so they all start to claw each other apart.”

I didn’t notice the flicker of surprise in his eyes, too busy now staring at the floor at my right, my mind calculating. “No,” I said, more to myself than to him, “In a room full of money it’s image, not cash, that is the most powerful.” I muttered. I then abruptly turned back to him, “For the people in this room I recommend bribery.” I told him formally, “Far more lucrative.” I added. “And what you have before you is a women who has been forced into many gossip sessions, group therapy and scandalous Chinese whispers for many years - I know dirty secrets on at least half of his room which would cause at least a few rifts.

“Suggest you can reveal those,” I said, “and these people will grovel at your feet.”

He eyed me seriously, his eyes dark and menacing and I wondered if I had over stepped an odd boundary he had. His eyes were hard and calculating as he thought through what I had suggested.

Suddenly – as though someone had flicked a switch – he changed, his eyes now excited and hungry again, his grin spreading back across his face. “Fancy a duet, doll?”

I gave him a sweet, misleading smile, “Sorry, no, doll.” I said with an exaggerated pout, relishing in the grin dropping from his face. He gripped me tightly as we spun, pinching my skin, but I refused to flinch or recoil from the pain. I could see his eyes darken as he caught on, but I continued anyway. “You see, whilst you were off setting everything up for your big ‘heist’, I was also busy,” I explained, “- busy locating all the men you had waiting in the wings ready for the main event. After all - I knew you couldn’t do this all on your own.” I added with a cheeky wink, the Joker’s eyes stormy under the dark shadow of his brow.

“I have alerted security to your plan and informed them of your men’s whereabouts and - given their average response time – I would imagine they will be descending on them at any moment.” I predicted and, as I spoke, sirens erupted in the distance. I couldn’t stop a smug grin appearing on my face as we kept spinning on the dancefloor, the Joker’s eyes dark, but his face emotionless.

He seemed to be lost in his own mind for the moment and he let me direct our dance without resistance, so I headed the back of the room, breaking off our dance at the edge of the room by a fire exit.

I turned back to him, my face serious, “As a thank you – however - for the dances, I’ll give you one chance to escape.” I told him firmly. “If you take the hall to the right you’ll find the coat closet – take a hooded one and get out of here.” I instructed before turning back to the party, ready to leave this behind me.

Just as I went to step forward an arm coiled around my chest, roughly pulling me backwards and I stumbled into his chest. I flinched as I felt a familiar blade at my exposed throat, I struggled against him, trying to crane my neck as far away from the offending weapon as I could. “What’s to stop me slitting your pretty throat right now, doll?” He hissed in my ear and now I was terrified, no longer safe in his arms.

“N-nothing.” I croaked out honestly, the movement in my throat only pressing my skin into knife. I panted in his arms, still using all my muscles to stay away from the edge of the blade.

Suddenly the knife was gone from my throat and I was pulled roughly around until I faced him again, the momentum momentarily unbalancing me, giving him enough time to take me by surprise and yank me forward until his lips were on mine.

His lips were cool on mine, firm and possessive, and I melted into them in that moment that seemed to last forever, and yet was over all too quickly.

He pulled back just as abruptly, his eyes still dark and hungry, but now he wore a mischievous grin on his face as he stepped backwards towards the exit, “See ya’ around, doll.” He promised with a low growl before he disappeared through the fire exit.

A moment later, security burst through the front door, the police at their heels, all armed and alert, aiming their guns throughout the room, calling for the crime lord who was just escaping in a stolen trench coat down the fire exit, before jumping onto the nearest room top and running off on foot into the night, leaving the screaming sirens behind him.

I never got my wedding ring back.

tags: @carouselcurls @aqswdefrgthzjukilop @toxic-ink @6fish6 @theartistdetective @white-chocolate-mocha-fan @blondieinthecity @cybergingersalad @viraldragonrider

(sorry if you didn't want to be tagged - I thought I'd just do my Deadly Voice list! :) )

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thejokersenigma · 7 years

Text

Joker x Reader - Deadly Voice Part 44

Hi guys, back for the next part!

It's quite a long one, but nothing much exciting really happens, but you'll be glad to know that the part after this is nearly finished so it shouldn't take too long to get the next bit out!

Anyway, Enjoy! :)

(Thank you so much for all the encouraging likes and messages you guys send me! I literally live off all of your support! xx)

I you would like to be tagged let me know, or if you have any requests I will happily give them a go! :)

P.S If you've asked to be tagged and I haven't done so on this piece can you let me know again? I am trying to make a list but I can't remember who's asked me! Sorry I'm really forgetful!

MASTERLIST

When I work up I briefly noted how bright the room was before I then closed my eyes again, snuggling back into the bed, drawing the covers tighter around my chilled shoulders, intent on trying to cling to the remains of my slumber and maybe fall back to the peace that was my sleep.

But I couldn’t stop the brightness penetrating through my thin eyelids and I could feel I had lost that small hope of sleep and I drifted back to reality once again. I still refused to open my eye though - enjoying just lying in bed – and I began my usual ritual of running through the list of today’s tasks I needed to get done.

That was when my memory flooded back to me.

I felt the panic surge through me, my heart pounding. Shit.

What was going on?!

I shouldn’t have a duvet. I shouldn’t a pillow.

I should be in a bare room filled with old dusty furniture and I should be lying on a bare mattress.

I opened my eyes now - cautiously in case I wasn’t the only person in the room – to see that I was lying on my right side facing a wall of familiar dark green wallpaper with gold swirling patterns. I glanced down the length of the bed and - sure enough - there was the large glass doors that led onto the balcony.

I was back in the Joker’s room again.

I cautiously turned over, searching for anyone else in the room with me. No one. I was alone. But this was definitely the Joker’s room.

Maybe one of the henchmen had moved me - maybe it was Frost. If I could find him quickly I could - not only talk to him about personal boundaries - but also convince him not to tell the Joker I had disobeyed him. I didn’t really want him to know if I could help it. Maybe then I could talk to him civilly about new sleeping arrangements if I ever saw him within the next week.

Whatever I was going to do, I wasn’t going to get anything done lying here. I shoved myself upright and began to shuffle myself to the side of the bed, just swinging my legs over the side when the bathroom door swung inwards, my head shooting up at the movement, the rest of me freezing on the bed.

The Joker stood in the doorway of the bathroom, hair wet and slicked back with a few strands falling out of place across his face. He wore nothing but a towel on his hips, my eyes drawn to the many inked illustrations on view which seemed to move with each flex of his muscles.

“Afternoon, doll.” He greeted at my figure, frozen in the act. I barely registered that it was the afternoon and I must have slept at least half of the day away, too stunned by his sudden appearance to do much more than stare at him in shock. “Enjoying yourself, doll?” He asked with a lazy grin, breaking my day dream and I snapped my eyes up to him, feeling the blush heating my cheeks.

“Yes I am.” I respond defiantly, shocked at the words out of my mouth. The Joker laughed and I wasn’t sure if it was because of what I said, or the look of pure surprise on my face that I had said them.

“I trust you slept well, doll?” He asked pleasantly, with a sickly sweet smile, sounding genuinely intrigued.

I frowned at him quizzically – that was very out of character for him. “Uh, fine thanks.” I answered - did he not know that I had left the room? Had no one told him? A large grin spread across his face at my answer – as though he shared an inside joke – so he did know? I frowned in confusion at him.

“My night was fine too doll, thanks for asking.” He teased sarcastically stepping into the room – He watched me for a moment as though waiting to catch something in my eyes, but I tried to hide any guilt that might be there and I thought I had got away with it, but then his eyes turned steely, “Imagine my surprise though, doll.” He started, stepping further into the room and waving an arm about theatrically, “when I return to the house last night to find my honoured guest had scorned all the luxuries I had provided!” He cried dramatically, “Choosing instead to stay in an old dusty room with a worn-out mattress and no bed sheets - not even a pillow!” He cried in false distress, one hand to his heart, now stood before me at the foot of the bed.

“You had arranged for me to sleep in your own bed!” I defended strongly, not amused by his little theatre production, “I didn’t think that was appropriate.”

“Tell me then doll,” He said, leaning in toward me, causing me to recoil from his close proximity, his large Cheshire grin too close for my comfort, “why did you think it ‘inappropriate’ to sleep in my bed, and yet you’ll happily wear my clothes?” He asked pleasantly.

Shit. I looked down at my lap – sure enough I was still in his shirt and tracksuit bottoms. I could feel the red in my cheeks increase. Maybe I had crossed a line there – some people were precious about this kind of thing. But, thanks to my new confidence, I wasn’t backing down that easily, “Maybe if you’re going to insist on providing people with clothes you ought to include a more modest section for those whose careers don’t rely on a pole stuck in the floor!” I retaliated sharply.

I thought I’d gone too far then, and I dropped the scowl on my face quickly, panicking that his famous temper would flare at me. He paused a moment, his face serious and considering, then he broke into laughter, pulling himself upright again and chuckling to himself as he disappeared into the walk-in closet to this right.

I scowled at his muscular back as he left me sat on the bed, confused by his almost amiable behaviour and unsure what to do now. Was this how he was going to get me to smile? Just be a bit nicer to me? Well it wasn’t going to work, I thought defiantly, scowling to myself.

The door to the closet remained open, the Joker hidden behind it, but I could hear the sound of drawers opening and sliding shut. I didn't know what to do. I was still sat, half under the covers in the joker’s bedroom – in his clothes - whilst the man himself was now getting dressed in the room opposite.

Out of context this situation looked a lot different to the one it was.

And now the idea of the Joker probably naked just behind that door was stuck in my mind. My thoughts wandered for a moment as to what that looked like, but I quickly shook my head away from that path – that was not a thought trail I should be going down.

I looked around the room desperately – what could I do? I felt extremely awkward just sat on the bed – unsure where to go or what was expected of me and the Joker only a few metres away. My eyes fell on the bathroom door. There was no lock on it – I remembered that – but I could still at least hide in there for a bit – I felt too vulnerable here.

I slid out of bed silently and crept quickly, but silently to the bathroom door, trying not to catch the Joker’s attention if I could help it and practically jumping over the threshold into the bathroom, closing door sharply behind me.

I leant against the wood for a moment, my heart racing. I was safe – well safer anyway.

I had no way of telling how long I hid in that bathroom.

I tried to just act normal to start with, brushing my teeth, washing my face, just taking my time with each and keeping half an ear out for the sound of the bedroom door to tell me the Joker had left.

That was the longest time I had ever spent brushing my teeth.

I thought I had heard the door go, but I was worried my ears were lying to me when I thought I heard another sound in the room. Eventually I couldn’t stand it any longer and left the bathroom, sneaking silently around the room, peering into any space I thought the Joker could hide in until I was convinced the room was empty.

I laughed shakily to myself at the extremes I was going through as I got dressed – managing to find a few pieces of clothing that covered at least some of skin and weren’t see-through or torn in strategic areas.

Now I stood in the middle of the room not sure what to do now. I was starving, but where was the kitchen? And was I just allowed to go there and help myself to what I wanted? And where was the Joker?

I remained there for a few moments unsure how to proceed till I gained the courage to leave the room. I wandered the house blindly for a time, trying to retrace the steps I had taken with Frost the day before, until I eventually reached the top of the grand staircase where a couple of armed henchmen stood guard outside a door.

I asked for directions from them and then begrudgingly instructed me to the kitchen which I followed and, after still managing to make a few wrong turns, I finally found my way to it.

Similar to the rest of the house, this room too, was huge. It had clearly been originally designed to be a historic-looking kitchen, once having the large fireplace, enough room for a huge farmhouse table in the middle and any other contraptions you wanted. But now it was revamped, a huge island with bar stools taking up the middle of the room and all the counters and technology having a very modern and metal look to them.

I wandered around the large room, opening drawers out of sheer curiosity and stumbling upon gadgets I didn’t even know existed. It was an oddly stocked kitchen for a house that was supposedly never used.

I hadn’t been in there long when Frost had found me, materialising in the doorway and making me jump. Though he seemed just as surprised to see me as I, him. He looked me up and down, as if looking for something.

“Frost?” I asked, when I’d managed to get my heart into my chest, “What’s up?” I asked, confused by his expression.

He pulled himself upright, resuming his professional stance – I guess he was working after all, “Just surprised to see you still standing.” He told me.

I looked at him confused, “Why wouldn’t I be…” I began, then it hit me, "Frost, what happened last night?”

He furrowed his brow, confused I didn’t know. “I wanted to ask you the same thing.” He said cryptically.

I frowned back at him, “You don’t know?”

“I know you didn’t stay in the room assigned to you.” He admitted, “Boss was pretty mad when he found out.”

“So he does know?” I asked grimacing, “Were you the one that moved me?”

Frost looked at me confused, “Moved you? No. Boss sent us all away once we tracked you down. He closed the door after that but I’d seen that look before on his face and I didn’t think you would make it out alive, let alone unharmed.” He admitted, his mind somewhere else.

Wonderful. I had been asleep in the same room as a pissed off psychotic murderer.

“So how did I get back in the Joker’s room?” I asked, more to myself than to Frost. But I already knew the answer.

Frost shrugged anyway, “He must have carried you back.”

I couldn’t believe it. I stared wide eyed at the kitchen island in front of me. The Joker had carried me, sleeping, in his arms. I could feel my face burning red. Did I snore? Had I had bad breath? Was I heavy? Oh my God this was mortifying.

I knew I should be annoyed at him – pretty pissed actually – that he had forced me basically to sleep in the same bed as him. But right now, all I could feel was an intense burning embarrassment. I was no longer worried that I had been that close to being murdered, I was too busy worrying if I’d made a fool of myself whilst unconscious.

And – wait. He’d been in the same room as me this morning. Did we sleep together? I could feel my eyes widened as the events of last night became clearer. Oh no.

“Ergh!” I groaned in frustration and humiliation, placing my hand forehead in disgrace.

Frost watched me uncomfortably, clearly not sure what to do, “Look,” He said, trying to break through my anguish, “I need to get back to work – I only came down because George said he’d seen you wandering around and asking for directions.” He told me. “Help yourself to anything around the place, no room is off limits but I would stay away from the room directly opposite the stairs – that’s the Boss’s office.” I nodded at him as I took the information in, remembering the door with the men outside, wondering if one of them was ‘George’.

Frost gave me a small smile and quick apology before making to stride off into the house. “Oh,” he recalled suddenly stopping in the doorway, “Boss would like you to join him this evening for a drive.” He informed me.

“Tell him no thanks.” I muttered, “Not sure I have the energy in me to deal with him tonight.” Frost frowned at me, clearly not happy with my response, but gave me a quick nod anyway before continuing back into the depths of the house.

I contemplated the consequences of my decision as I helped myself to some food. Would the Joker be mad I had turned him down? Of course, he would. Would he do anything about it was more what I should be concerned about.

I shuffled around the cupboards as I thought, once again surprised to find that the kitchen was stock to the brim with fresh produce and I had to wonder if it was because of me, or if they always had to keep it stocked in case the Joker made a sudden decision to spend some time here.

The whole time I was in the kitchen I saw no one else – so much so I did consider spending the whole day in the kitchen - but I decided I couldn’t spend a whole week in this huge house just hauled up in this one room, so, after I was done eating, I set out to explore the rest of the maze-like mansion.

There were so many rooms.

There were at least 3 rooms that appeared to be lounges with different arrays of entertainment kits, a large fancy dining room that looked like it was never used, a few rooms that seemed dedicated to drinking alone, the large garage I had arrived via last night and – I noted for future reference – a large library stacked from floor to ceiling with shelves of dusty books.

I was glad to see that none of these rooms seemed to have undergone the redecorating that the hall had, no green paint or bullet holes in sight.

I continued around the ground floor of the house, finding many rooms empty or so dusty that I couldn’t stop sneezing upon entering. I paused when I came across a large conservatory-like room at what must have been the back of the house.

It was humid in here, the rain pattering lightly on the glass roof above. Through the wall of windows in front of me lay a large green lawn with neatly trimmed hedges around the borders, the boundaries stretching out of sight over a hill and the bare outlines of skyscrapers just visible in the distance against the grey sky.

“You know, doll, it’s rude to turn down your host when they offer you a night out?” Came a voice from behind that sent shivers down my back. The voice sounded soft, but dangerous and I turned slowly to meet the Joker standing in the double door entrance to the room.

“Got plans already, huh?” he mocked, “Shame.” He pouted at me cruelly, “Maybe tomorrow night.”

“No thank you.” I managed out, though my voice was croaky and faltered slightly. “I don’t particularly want to do anything with you.” I said bravely.

“No?” He questioned, feigning surprise, “Come now doll,” he teased, “if you keep refusing to even let me try to make you smile, that’s cheating.” He purred dangerously, holding my gaze and his eyes seemed to become stormier, his mouth breathing louder and harsher. I swallowed thickly, regretting my previous words.

“Boss?”

The Joker snarled and span to face the henchman that had appeared next to him, brandishing a piece of paper at arms length as though it was a white flag. The Joker snatched it from him, his eyes darting over the paper as he read it. His jaw clenched and he crumpled the paper in his fist, grumbling something under his breath that sound like ‘If you want something done you gotta do it yourself.’ He gaze shot back up to mine swiftly “Later then, Doll.” He said before departing, the henchman following quickly on behind.

I didn’t linger in that room, just in case the Joker decided to pay me another visit and finish whatever he wanted to do a moment ago. Instead, I continued to wander the house until I finally found my way back to the familiar entrance way, the harsh graffiti and knife art no longer really bothering me anymore. I headed immediately for one door in particular, pushing it open, surprised to see the room hadn’t changed in the slightest.

The large, plump arm chairs still sat next to the unlit fireplace, the dark wood bookshelves still pushed up against the back wall, and the decanter with its matching crystal glasses still sat on the small coffee table between the chairs. And, of course - still sat nestled under the large window that looked out over the front lawn - was the beautiful piano.

I drifted into the room, able to take my time now to examine every inch of the room without the fear from the last time. It was a beautiful room, practically tiny compared to the rest of the house, but still very large compared to anything I had ever lived in.

I sat myself down in one of the cushiony armchairs, admiring the detailed patterns that adorned the fireplace and surveying the rest of the room. Eventually though, I could no longer resist it anymore and stood up, heading straight for the piano. I hesitated, admiring the instrument from afar before I sat gently on the old, faded stool stroking the key cover and lifting it up, a strong sense of déjà vu overcoming me.

The keys, yellow with age, lay out perfectly just begging to be used and I stroked them with longingly.

Frost had said help myself to anything I wanted - there was no one around to disturb here anyway.

So I pressed a key. The noise sounded ridiculously loud to my ears that were so used to the echoing silence of the large house. I waited a few beats, to see if anyone responded to the noise, but when nothing happened I took that as enough reassurance to push another key. I waited again.

I slowly grew in confidence with each passing moment of no response or movement from the rest of the house, soon playing more and more keys until the notes no longer sounded painfully loud to me and I eventually began to play a silly little tune I had been taught when I learnt to play.

My fingers danced over the keys fluidly until I made the tune more complex and intricate, soon forming the music of a song I knew. It didn’t take long before I got caught up in the melody, beginning to hum the song and then sing the words quietly at first and then gaining in volume, though never louder than normal talking level.

I continued to press away at the keys, not taking a break between one song and the next, just playing continuously.

That was until I heard a floorboard creek outside the door. I jumped, my hands slipping on the keys and making a painfully out-of-tune noise. I instantly spun around to the source of the noise, only to find the Joker stood framed in the doorway.

Déjà vu indeed.

He surveyed me for a moment in silence and I wondered if he would continue with what he had wanted to say earlier or if he was going to berate me for making too much noise or daring to be in this room when there was a strict rule, that I was unaware of that, prohibited it.

Or maybe – given he was the Joker and wholly unpredictable – he might just crack a joke at my expense and leave.

However, he did none of these things. He just stood there in silence, the dark shadow around his eyes showing that - though he slept last night - it wasn’t nearly enough.

He lingered only a few moments longer and then he was gone as suddenly as he had come.

I watched the empty doorway for a few moments but he didn’t return. I got up and closed the door quietly - not wanting anymore unexpected audiences - and returned to my music, my heart was still erratic from surprise, and half an ear open for any more footsteps on the floor outside the door.

It was only later that day, as I climbed the stairs to explore the top of the house, that I heard a familiar sound.

Was that my voice.

It was soft and quiet but I could definitely hear it. I back tracked down the hallway till I reached the top of the stairs again. There were no men outside the door this time and I could press up close to the wood.

Sure enough, there it was - quiet but still audible - me and the piano from earlier playing out quietly in the Joker’s office.

I didn’t know what to think about it, so I pushed it to the back of my mind and hurried down the corridor out of sight before I got caught again.

tags: @carouselcurls @6fish6 @viraldragonrider @theartistdetective @white-chocolate-mocha-fan

#joker x reader #joker #joker fan fic #joker fan fiction #joker x oc #joker x reader fan fiction #joker x reader fan fic #joker x oc fan fiction #joker x oc fan fic #deadly voice #deadly voice fan fiction #deadly voice fan fic #deadly voice part 44 #jokersenigma #jokersenigma fan fic #jokersenigma fan fiction #jokersenigma fanfic #joker fanfic

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thejokersenigma · 7 years

Text

Joker x Reader Strictly Business Masterlist

Summary: A request I was given:

‘Hi there! I have a request if you don’t mind ;) How about Joker got obsessed with a married woman? I’m just dying to see what he’s going to do. I don’t want to limit your imagination, but still a little application… I just see that marriage was more like marriage of convenience in a good way. Maybe this woman and her husband are like business partners too.’

There were a few particular they wanted, but this was the rough idea

After beginning to write this I got carried away and as the Anon didn’t specify if this was suppose to be a oneshot or not I’ve decided to spilt it up into multiple parts to give it justice! (otherwise it would be huge because I’m really bad at writing small pieces of work!)

Anyway, hope you enjoy it!

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6

#jokersenigma #jokersenigma fan fiction #jokersenigma fan fic #jokersenigma fanfic #joker x oc #joker x oc fan fiction #joker x oc fanfic #joker fan fiction #joker fan fic #joker fanfic #strictly business #strictly business fan fiction #strictly business fanfic #strictly business part 1 #strictly business part 2 #Strictly Business part 3

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thejokersenigma · 7 years

Text

Joker x Reader Deadly Voice Part 43

Hi guys, sorry it's been a while since I've managed to get a part out!

This one is quite a bit shorter than usual, but I have started the next part - I just though this bit would be better on its own!

I'll apologise now - this piece is probably REALLY bad because I've just felt very uninspired recently and I feel like I've lost my idea of the Joker at the moment (especially Jaredleto joker) - I think I might need to have a movie binge night to get back into character!

So the warning for this part is EXTREME FLUFF. I'm not kidding - this probably isn't everyone's cup of tea and I don't know why I made it so fluffy (maybe I just need a hug). I don't even know why I wrote this part. In my head it was better.

So if you want to skip this part I understand - I'll try to get back on track for the next part!

Enjoy anyway!

Thank you again for reading and all your support! Feel free to send request etc. to me - I don't mind which fandom - I need to branch out a bit! :D

MASTERLIST

“Where is she?!” The Joker demanded, advancing on the three men in front of him.

“Sir?” Asked one of them.

“The girl!” The Joker snarled furiously, launching at the henchman with his metal teeth bared, grabbing his shirt collar and shoving the barrel of his gun into the man’s throat.

It was 5am and he’d finally returned from his ‘little discussion’ with Jackson out at the docks about an overdue shipment. It had ended with 7 men dead and Jackson himself sporting a new set of scars as a little debt reminder.

But now the Joker needed sleep. He hadn’t slept for over 5 days and it was beginning to take its toll on him – not on his mental clarity, which remained its usual sharp-witted tangle of mess and noise – but physically he was exhausted, even now his legs ached and protested under his weight.

When he had entered the large house, he’d found all his men wary – more than usual – around him and excusing themselves from any room he entered. He didn’t bother to waste his energy on them now – they’d still be in there in the morning when he felt more refreshed – and he get his attention solely on his path to the bed at the top of the house.

When he had arrived at the door he had opened it quietly, knowing there was a chance the girl [Y/N] would be asleep and - though the idea of seeing that little scowl on her face once again sounded appealing - he wasn’t in the mood to really mess with her right now - he had plenty of time to do that later after all. The thought of this had made his lips twitch into his signature grin.

As he had opened the door, the dim light of the corridor had faintly lit the blackness, throwing shadows across the room, and providing just enough light to make out the outlines of objects. He had immediately headed to the bed but stopped dead when he found it empty. Pristine. As though no one had even touched it.

Where was the girl?

He searched the room, the only trace of [Y/N] being a pile of her clothes in his wardrobe.

How the men in front of him were blathering excuses, though the one beneath his grip remained silent and still, knowing his best option now was to not say anything.

The Joker wasn’t listening to their droning voices – he had too many of his own in his head to pay attention to theirs. He didn’t care what they had to say unless it provided him with new, useful information.

And it didn’t.

A gunshot went off and the Joker could feel the man under his hand tense and flinch at the sound. But it wasn’t him that dropped to the floor. It was the man to his left. A clean bullet hole to the head.

The Joker looked past the man he held to the body now on the floor. He hadn’t planned to do that. The voices suggest some interesting things sometimes. He regarded the body in boredom – this wasn’t one of those times.

Silence filled the room, the remaining two henchmen too scared to say another word and too terrified to move a muscle in case the boss instinctively shot at them, the man held recoiling from the gun now on his shoulder.

“Frost.” The Joker growled - the tall, suited man already on route to the Joker’s side at the sound of the gunshot.

“We’re combing through the CCTV.” Frost informed him quickly, unfazed by the new stain gracing spreading on the floor.

“Search everywhere. Find her.” The Joker ordered through clenched teeth before he released the henchman in his grip and strode off past Frost into the dark hallway. “And clean that up.” He called back to the three remaining men.

There was a cold insane cackle from the clown before he disappeared into the shadows.

As much as sleep pulled at the Joker’s mind and body, he remained awake. He sat on the edge of the large queen-sized bed, his shirt handing completely open, his gun holsters hanging loosely from his shoulders and his hair messy from his own hands. He stared blindly into the dark at where the patterned wallpaper would be. But his mind was making’s its own pattern, its own maze to continue to get lost in.

The knock at the door was like a cannon through his mind’s chatter and the gun was instinctively pointed at the door as it opened to reveal Frost, his hands up in the air by his chest in a surrendering gesture – knowing his boss’s reflexes.

“Where is she?” The Joker growled lowly, forgetting about the loaded gun pointed at his head henchman.

Frost however, sensed the danger was over - even with the weapon still pointed directly at him - and lowered his hands. “The 5th room.” He stated, knowing J didn’t want any more information than that.

The Joker was up and pushing past him before he’d finished.

The Joker strode briskly down the dark corridors, his anger fuelling his weary muscles. He arrived at the one of the many identical doors that filled this side of the house and snarled at the men that surrounded the doorway. Most fled, but a few stayed behind for further orders, simply shrinking against the wall opposite.

The Joker stepped through the doorway, immediately noting a large chest of drawers pushed halfway into the room. Had she tried to block up the door? Clever, doll. He scowled, striding into the room, ready to wring her neck for her insolence.

But then he saw her lying on the bed.

She was curled onto her right side, some of her hair falling onto her face, the rest of it fanning out behind her. The rectangle of light from the hallway fell across her body and illuminated her face. It was the first time he had seen it looked soft. Whenever she saw him she was always frowning, worried or scowling. But now her face was smooth, no angry lines creasing her face. He had never seen her so peaceful. So relaxed. And she was in his clothes he realised, as his eyes travelled down her body.

It should anger him. It should make the voice flare to a deafening pitch until he did something reckless and murderous. But it didn’t.

If he didn’t know better it looked like they’d just slept together.

He liked her in them. It suited her. Looking like his.

Movement behind the Joker caused him to spin around, “Out.” He snapped harshly at Frost now in the doorway. Frost hesitated, worried what the Joker might do to the poor girl asleep on the bed, but the look in the Joker’s eyes was something you didn’t challenge and Frost soon backed down, retreating with the rest of his men.

The Joker moved back to the doorway and closed the door silently behind the men, plunging the room into darkness. It didn’t take long for his eyes to adjust to the new blackness and he turned back to Y/N.

Now was his chance.

Her vulnerable throat lay exposed to him ready for the strong grip of his hands to crush it or for the glint of his blade that he could feel heavy in his pocket.

His hand slipped to the knife, pulling it out and flipping it open as his mind urged him on. He perched on the edge of the bed and continued to watch her, her chest rising and falling with each deep breath.

It annoyed the him. Annoyed the voices.

He wanted to snuff it out. Stop the movement.

But his eyes continued to follow the rise and fall and he suddenly realised how quiet the room was. The insistent white noise was gone. Like following the rhythm had calmed his mind.

In the new silence, only the harsh breath through his lips could be heard, her own breath sweet and quiet. She looked soft delicate.

The Joker was lost in his mind’s new silence, only the voices now vying for his attention now. He brought the blade to her skin, running it along the outline of her exposed arm where the she had rolled up his shirt’s sleeve. He didn’t withdraw the blade as she shivered her sleep from the contact of the cold metal, leaving it lying against her skin until she lay still again.

When she relaxed once more he continued to trail the tip of the knife up her arm, watching it catch on the rucked-up fabric of the shirt sleeves, until he reached her throat, relishing the feel of her skin under the blade.

He could put pressure on it now if he wanted to. End it.

But instead he trailed the blade along her skin, admiring the goose bumps that rose on her skin under his touch.

He hadn’t realised how close he’d leant in towards her until he felt her breath brush against his cheek. It caught him off guard and he couldn’t help flinching slightly causing him to momentarily lose control of his hand and nick her skin with the point of the blade.

He withdrew the knife but couldn’t see the damage in the dark. He dismissed it. He’d barely touched you after all.

[Y/N]’s breath continued to float across his cheek and now he expected it was almost a nice feeling. Like it blew away another voice from his mind. One in a whole crowd might not feel like much, but he could tell it was gone and it felt good to gain another small chunk of silence in his usually chaotic mind.

The Joker pulled back, repositioning himself on the bare mattress so that he lay alongside her on the other side of the bed - still careful not to touch her - his sleep deprived body sighing in relief at the feeling of rest. He closed his eyes - hardly at peace - but better than he had been for a long time.

Peace only found him when [Y/N] shifted in her sleep, turning so she faced him and curling into his side, an arm draped across his chest, and a small dreaming smile on her lips.

tags: @carouselcurls @viraldragonrider @6fish6 @theartistdetective @white-chocolate-mocha-fan

#jokerxreader #joker x reader #deadly voice part 43 #deadly voice #deadly voice fan fiction #deadly voice fan fic #joker fan fiction #joker x oc #joker x oc fan fiction #joker x oc fan fic #joker x reader fan fiction #jokersenigma #jokersenigma fan fic #jokersenigma fan fiction #joker fan fic #joker

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