sunfyrejoker

[sunfyrejoker]

twins

[sunfyrejoker]

Red Velvet cachorras

who is this mendigo

[sunfyrejoker]

GOD I LOVE IT SO MUCH

Old Scars (part 25)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is has many of the same darker themes. Kidnapping, violence more generally. In this chapter specifically, graphic descriptions of violence, guns, knives, NSFW moments. He's the joker, so... Minors Do Not Interact! 🔞

Part 25 -

I almost jumped out of my skin and instinctively drew my gun, aiming it in the direction of the sound of his voice. I was greeted by the sight of an all-too-familiar painted face. He was sat on the bed with his legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankle, looking perfectly relaxed in his full suit and coat. Beside him on the table was a record player and a set of speakers - the source of the strange music filling the space.

"What are you doing here?!" I demanded, still reeling from the shock.

He threw his arms up in mock surrender.

"Well I didn't know when you'd get back to your little bolt hole. I mean, it's not like you gave me a way to contact you after you ran away," he said, his voice turning sour with the final accusation, his words biting with cold sharp teeth.

My scrambled brain struggled to catch up to the situation unfolding; I kept looking from him to the record player and back. Why had he gone to the effort of bringing that with him? Had he taken all this time to meticulously pick out a song to kill me to? The hair on the back of my neck prickled with fear as he got up from the bed and moved a step closer to me. I hastily jerked the barrel back in his direction.

"Stay back. I will shoot you!" I sputtered out.

The yellow walls seemed to be closing in all around me and I cursed the way my voice choked up and cracked, undeniably betraying my fear and apprehension. He paused for the time being, with a look of satisfaction on his painted face.

"It wasn't easy, tracking you down."

I was silent, unable to find the words to respond.

"No snappy comeback? That's not like you doll," he taunted, deliberately advancing another step.

I tried to keep looking forward as I wondered if I could make it to the door before he could close the gap. If I turned now I still had to undo the deadbolt and turn the key. I cursed myself for locking myself in with him - for not realising something was wrong as soon as I heard the music. My near-paranoia about securing the room had turned it into a cage rather than a refuge.

"I don't think you can make it, but maybe if you're quick... why don't you give it a try?" He said, his words slithering around me like a snake, mocking and malicious.

I tightened my grip on the gun, my finger pressing against the trigger the tiniest bit harder but I felt stuck, fixed to the spot. I was screaming at myself to move. To shoot. To run. Why couldn't I shoot him? It would be the end to all my problems... wouldn't it? What the fuck was wrong with me?

"I had something... I wanted to do," I murmured finally as he took another step closer, while I remained paralysed.

"What could be so important that you'd leave in the middle of the night, without as much as a goodbye?" He asked, flicking open his knife and inspecting it.

The yellow light glinted off of the silver blade as he rotated it. This was finally enough for me to bypass my unexpected freeze response. Flight took over. I whirled round and frantically tugged the bolt undone. Next I turned the key, grasping the handle and managing to get the door half way open. Just as I saw a glimpse of hope, a gloved hand clamped down over my mouth, suppressing my rising scream. His strong arms were around me, dragging me backwards.

I resisted furiously, stomping on his foot and fighting not to give up control of the gun. I managed to get halfway free, turning to face him as he still tried to control my arms. His hand was gripped against my wrist, squeezing the bones together so hard I thought they might break. Still, I gave it my everything not to let the gun go - it was the only ace up my sleeve. Seeing I was stubborn enough to break my own wrist rather than relent to this method of attack, he quickly changed tactics and went for my already bruised neck. As soon as he made contact, I cried out and tried to throw up my arms in defence, aware he still held the knife in his other hand - knowing it could be over for me in a matter of seconds...

There was enough of a lapse in my focus on the gun that he managed finally to wrench it out of my hand and toss it aside, but not before a shot fired off into the ceiling. Feeling as though he'd almost snapped my fingers and aware of how bad things were starting to look, I grabbed for anything else I could find from the dresser and my hands seized upon the weighty, battered Bible in the top drawer. As he tried to lunge for my throat a second time I swung the book in a cross-body arc and it connected squarely with the side of his face.

He stumbled sideways, stunned by the impact, and I knew one strike was not enough. So I hit him again. And again. And again. The fifth time he managed to block the blow and knock the book out of my grip.

Panicking, I grabbed for something new, tugging the worn leather belt for my pants from it's place dangling over the back of the chair. I whipped the buckle end into him a couple of times, eliciting a few muderous curses with each impact. This too wouldn't save me though, as he suddenly caught the end and violently tugged it, using it to pull me towards him instead. Not having time to fight it I went skidding forwards, crashing into him and again we began to wrestle as I grabbed his knife hand with both of mine.

The renwed fight was so fraught that it sent us both tumbling onto the floor and the impact dislodged the weapon from his fingers. I kicked it so that it skidded across the hard floor and out of reach, somewhere under the bed. He then grabbed a fistful of my hair as I reached out frantically for the door frame, desperate to prise myself free of his clutches and drag myself into the hall. I screamed in terror, no longer muffled by his hand. My fingers grazed the frame. I was beyond desperate. Tears began to well up in my eyes.

"Come back here," he muttered, dragging me back by the ankle and kicking the door closed.

"No" I wailed, knowing I didn't have the energy to get that close to freedom again.

By now he was standing in front of my exit, putting himself in between me and any hope of escape. I looked up at him with utter contempt as I writhed in pain on the floor and he watched, wordlessly, as he pulled off his gloves and wiped the dripping blood from his nose with the back of his hand.

"You told me I was free to walk away if chose to," I forced out the words between desperate attempts to catch my breath.

"Hm, I did say that," he answered, pushing the hair away from his face and rolling his shoulder as though he was testing it's range of motion.

"You said you were a man of your word. You lied," I added as I groaned in pain, still in a heap on the floor.

"Oh I didn't break my word. Unlike you," He said glaring accusingly at me.

"What do you mean?" I pleaded, exasperated.

"You promised not to interfere," he began to pace up and down, like a caged tiger, his coat tails swinging out at the apex of each turn.

"And how have I broken that promise?" I scoffed.

"You have been a distraction. I've been wasting valuable time."

"That's not my fault! I didn't ask for any of this! I wish I'd never walked into that department store. I could've just gone home," I sobbed.

"I have to give credit where it's due, you almost got away. I really thought I was never going to find you again... but you stayed in the city,"

I looked up at his montrous face through eyes stinging with tears.

"I actually thought..." I murmured under my breath before trailing off in despair.

I didn't want to speak it aloud. That meant admitting it to myself, showing all my cards. I had played the fool. I actually thought he cared for me. Somewhere in my attempts to stay alive I had instead got tangled up in this pyschological cat and mouse game. Somewhere the lines had blurred, a threshold was crossed. It had evolved into something entirely different.

"You played the long game, didn't you?" He laughed, halting his pacing.

"I don't understand," I said, trying to wipe the tears from my face, a surge of anger replacing the terror i'd felt.

"You know, I almost believed you wanted to stay," he wagged a finger at me, "I didn't want to clip your wings. I wanted you to fly... but you were just biding your time. I thought we saw eye to eye."

I looked up at him in utter confusion as I finally struggled back onto my feet.

"Oh, I wanted to stay! And I hate myself for it. It makes me feel twisted and broken. It's so wrong," I spat as I burned again with contempt for him.

He looked like this was an unexpected response from me, pausing for a moment to take in my outburst before adjusting course.

"Then why did you leave?" He stalked closer again.

I stared him down, clutching my sore wrist.

"I had something I needed to do, and I couldn't be part of whatever your next plan was. You -" I searched desperately for the words, "you hurt people."

"So do you."

"It's not the same."

"No?" He prompted, picking away at the unravelling threads of my mind yet again.

"It is not the same," I shot back.

He raised an eyebrow.

I was silent, steadfast in my conviction.

"You know, he also has a habit of disappearing and popping up again where you least expect it," J said with an accusatory tone.

"Who?"

"The batman. And now, you're running around playing vigilante too..."

"I'm not like the batman... Or you." I responded bitterly.

He bent down and upended the contents of my backpack onto the floor, tugging free the object of his search. I watched then as he stood holding up my mask triumphantly - as though he was Perseus with the severed head of medusa.

"That's not what it looks like, Queen of Spades".

Of course, he would get the reference. Even if no one else figured it out. I shook my head and laughed a little, wincing as I held my bruised ribs.

"You don't understand. This isn't the start of some long campaign across the city. I did what I set out to do."

"So that's it? A one-night-only show?"

"I'm done. I'm not under any illusions that I have the power to change anything. Just for one moment, I made those men feel fear. Alexe is going to be feeling it for the rest of his life.'

I couldn't help but smile faintly at the memory of him and Brady's shocked reactions in the club. The Joker watched me intently as I spoke, that look of excited fascination again taking root in his face. I ignored it and continued.

"Do I trust the police to do right by those women? Not really. But I'll bet the DA will be interested; it's an easy moral feather in his cap and looks nice for a re-election campaign. And maybe, just maybe, it's put enough fear into some of the other up-and- comers in the city gangs that they'll be looking over their shoulders."

"Bravo," he clapped his hands together in apparent celebration, "But now you've had a taste, don't you want more?"

I sighed as I stretched out my neck.

"No. Just once, I wanted them to be afraid of me, not the other way around. I got what I wanted but it doesn't change things."

"Oh but it does."

He turned on the TV and flicked through the channels. The news reels were all talking about the new mysterious crimes: The burning of the old Post Office, the attack on Alexe Ibanescu at his nightclub and the strange figure in a mask fleeing the scene. The press had even already got hold of police photographs of the cards i'd left at the first scene - they worked fast. We watched the images of the fire ripping through the building, and cops tackling the gang members as they tried to run from the blaze, there was even grainy video from someone's mobile phone of panic erupting in the nightclub, as the crowd poured out into the street.

There was already a cloud of frantic speculation whirling around. Was this related to the Joker, who was still at large following the devastation he'd caused just days ago? Or was it related to the 'bat' vigilante who was becoming more and more visible? Who was this new figure attacking mobsters? And who did they align with?

"You've got the whole city on the edge of their seats... and you want to leave them disappointed?" He tossed the mask in my direction and I caught it before it could hit the floor.

"I didn't do it to perform," I argued, wondering if I could again make it out of the door now that he had moved away from it.

I knew though that he had control of the gun. I might have been too cowardly to shoot him, but I didn't think he'd have the same difficulty.

He looked unconvinced by my answer, disappointed even.

"Then why the theatrics?"

I looked down at the porcelain face staring up at me from my hands.

"You and the bat have made sure that any crime fitting the normal bill is buried beyond page six. I didn't intend for it to be a headline, but it did need some impact."

"Well it is the headline, on every channel, and it will be splashed across every paper tomorrow morning."

I sighed and set down the mask.

"And what? You're here to encourage me to keep at it? Or are you here to kill me? Can we just skip to it if so?"

His expression at this comment was unexpected, he looked frustrated and almost upset by it. Surely i'd misread him, or it was some ploy to deliberately confuse me further. I thought about what he'd done a few days ago, about the missing people presumed dead at the Mayor's offices in City Hall and my anger rose again.

"You know, I'm not a nihilist like you. I'm not running around blowing things, or god forbid people, up just to prove some depressing point about how miserable our existence is, and how pointless everyone's lives really are."

I stormed over and turned off the TV, not wanting to hear any more about what either of us had done.

"Is that what you think I do?" He said with amusement.

"Yes. You know what? It's funny that you'd compare me to the batman when you're more like him than I. You both have your ego-driven campaigns to single-handedly show the city why your way is the only right way. You parade around on some kind of anti-moral crusade."

My voice was rising with my anger, but I didn't care, I was too swept up in it to notice.

"You are so close to something entirely on a different level, and you're throwing it all away. Wouldn't you rather be a face card, not just another number in the deck?" He said, pleading almost.

He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket and waved it in front of me. It was my bus ticket out of the city.

"Why leave?" He asked, his demeanour and body language softening a little.

"Why stay?" I countered, still as prickly as before.

He rolled his eyes as he slapped the ticket down on the dresser. Now it seemed it was his turn to be angry, his voice slipping back into a more sinister register.

"So what's the plan (y/n)? Run away, take up another mindless 9-to-5, eventually meet and marry some boring guy and pop out a few kids for him? Don't you want something more?"

"By staying with you?" I asked, cutting to the point at the core of all this which he was dancing around.

His face betrayed a flash of his own confused emotions for a split second and he fell silent as I dug in further, stepping within arms reach as I continued to stare him down. If he wanted me to curl up and cry, I wouldn't give him that satisfaction. I pushed further:

"Are you really disappointed that I'm leaving Gotham, or are you disappointed that I won't be around to fuck you again if I do?" I asked flatly.

It struck the nerve I was aiming for and he suddenly grasped my blouse at the collar with one hand. I froze for a moment, waiting to see what he'd do next. His mouth was taught with frustration.

"Yeah I said it. Is your counter offer really just 'no don't leave the city, stay here and be my personal whore instead'?"

"You don't want to admit just how much you liked what we did. It scares you... that's why you want to pack up and run," he countered flatly.

Undeterred, I shoved him away, breaking his grip on me and refusing to let his words push me back down. I would always hit back. One way or another.

"Really? And what about you? Trying to revert to approaching me like you did in the dress store. You want to pretend, but you need me. You hate it. Even, if i'm just another little project for you; just another little pawn in your ridiculous game of chess. You can't bear to lose me now. I've changed things, there's no going back."

The sombre vibrato of the woman on the record cut into the tense silence bewteen us as she began a crescendo.

"What is that, why is it here?" I asked, suddenly irritated that he wasn't responding to my argument.

He frowned.

"You don't know?"

I shook my head as the singer's grieving tone washed over me.

"It's Tchaikovsky. The Queen of Spades."

I looked up to meet his gaze, startled.

"You, brought it here... For me?"

His mouth straightened out into a thin line as though he was witholding something.

We were so close now that one step would have bridged the gap between our bodies. Finally, without the constant trading of physical or verbal strikes, I realised that he was wearing cologne again...

"What use is a chessboard without a Queen?" He muttered, sounding almost defeated in tone as his dark gaze washed over me.

I was floored. Of all the things I might have expected from our altercation, this hadn't featured.

I reached out a hand tentatively to touch his coat lapel, rolling the purple felt between my fingertips as thoughts crashed around my mind like ships at sea in a tempest. He grasped my hand in his own and my heart fluttered in my chest. Not able to stop myself I slipped my other hand inside his coat, feeling the cool silk lining, moving it up over his waistcoat to rest atop his shoulder. I was still angry with him. I knew I should hate him... but I couldn't deny the part of me that was drawn in by him too.

My arms threaded around him, embracing him so tightly that it had to have hurt him. Of course, he didn't flinch. Instead, he let his fingertips brush over my scars as he slid a hand into my hair, pressing my head to his chest. I could feel the slow beat of his pulse.

The opera music again bled through into the moment, a duet of voices rising and falling together, and he leant down, his face agonisingly close to my own, his brown eyes burning with chaotic desire. I let him hold me there, abandoning all reason as he drew me into a violent kiss. Something in me had snapped and I returned his affection with equal passion tugging his coat away from his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. I could taste the tang of iron, the remnants of the nose bleed I had caused but I didn't care.

I pushed him towards the bed, leading him to lay down on it as I clambered on top of him. I slid my arms over his own and broke free from our kiss to look down at him for a moment. I had missed him. There was no use in denying it. How strange it was to see him like this...

I didn't have long to entertain the thought; he turned and pushed me down onto my back. I let it happen, leaning upwards to meet him in another kiss. He played along for a minute, but then I felt his hand slide up my neck to grasp me by the jaw and forcibly turn my head to the side. Before I could protest I felt his breath in my ear and he began to kiss my bruised neck. Tenderly at first, but soon becoming more aggressive.

I was already losing any sense of composure and a moan escaped my lips. He growled his approval at this in my ear. I threaded my fingers into his hair at the nape of his neck and hungrily pressed myself harder against his body. He responded by pulling away from me in deliberate denial. It frustrated me as I glared up at him only to be met with a sly smirk.

I used this extra separation to kick off my boots and tug the red blouse up and over my head, tossing it aside. His dark eyes excitedly roamed my torso as he kicked off his own shoes, letting them fall to the floor with a thud. I sat upright and began to unbutton his waistcoat and shirt, sliding my cold hands underneath them. His muscles tensed up as I touched the skin of his chest and ran my fingers over his collar bones. He paused to slide the straps of his braces off both shoulders and peeled away his shirt, dropping it to the floor, before pushing himself back down on top of me.

His kisses and touches were so intense, with a kind of violence to them that was surprisingly arousing to me - it was as if he really was desperate for me not to leave. Whatever the reason, it felt powerful that he wanted me so badly. He soon had pinned both arms either side of my head and began to kiss his way down my torso. I tried to move, wanting to take off my bra but he didn't let me, gripping me tighter and holding me fast.

I looked up at him a little afraid and exhilirated by the feeling while he relinquished my arms, letting one of his hands trail up to my neck where he gripped me instead, still holding me fast. I was totally at his mercy as he withdrew a blade from his pocket. My breath stalled in my throat as he continued to press his fingers into my flesh. For a moment he held it up to my cheek, the silver metal glinting as it touched my skin, feather light. Not enough to break it. I made no attempts to struggle, looking up at him with complete trust, however stupid that was. He let the blade trail down my neck and across my collar bone, his eyes bright with violent fire.

As he slid the blade under the fabric where my bra met in the centre, it grazed my sternum. The bite of the blade made me wince, eliciting a kind of ragged breath from him. The fact that my life was in his hands might have scared me more, but I knew from our previous journey into this territory that we could also swap roles: he seemed to have a masochistic streak that matched his sadistic tendencies in equal measure - he evidently found dancing on the knife's edge just as intoxicating. For now I was content to be at his mercy, too tired and bruised from the past twenty four hours to resist, as he cut through the fabric with one swift movement and our mouths hungrily reconnected.

My fingers again found the countless scars which covered his back as his hands supported my arching lower back. It wasn't long before he began to pull down my pants and no sooner had they been tossed aside than he began to kiss and playfully bite my inner thigh. My hands knotted themselves into his hair as his tongue sent me into a pleasurable spiral. The ceiling seemed to spin above me. My head sank back into the pillow and I tried to suppress a moan. So much for escaping Gotham's corrupting criminal world. I had reached the top of the slope only to slide all the way back down into the dark...

Tag List:

If I forgot anyone or you want to be removed from the tag list - please let me know! 💕

@dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd

@dance-like-a-clown

@furisodespirit

@heath-ledger-jokers-wife

@sunfyrejoker

@lightsabergirl

@clowning--around

@ruby-da-archangel

@harleenqvinn

@helchronicles

@ostricx

@knoepfl

@vampiiriic

@jumpingjellyfishhaha

@nicklet94

@torossosebs

@all-bi-myselfs-blog

@myassisasolarsystem

@secondminkoq

@mikuley

@robin-the-enby

@classifiedshark18

LINK TO THE MASTERLIST OF OTHER CHAPTERS ⬇️

[sunfyrejoker]

The Dark Knight trilogy fanart created by 鶏

Look at Heath though, like bring your little crazy ass over here ya sexy psychopath ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[sunfyrejoker]

Old Scars (Part 23)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, violence more generally.

Part 23 -

I hurriedly changed into jeans and a t-shirt, pulling on my hoodie and a baseball cap. My feet were relieved to be in sneakers again as I gathered up the cardboard box I had set by for this part of my operation. I assembled and taped it, sticking the address on the top. Then I hurried down to the 24 hour internet café and printed off a false FedEx invoice for the property opposite my target, before hailing a cab and riding it to Fiskin Avenue. I had my handgun stashed in my beltline, but it didn't do much to alleviate my anxiety at how badly wrong everything could go in a matter of seconds. The crushing weight of what I had to achieve was terrfying as I stood in front of the open door to the old building, my heart was in my throat and I felt like I was going to throw up I was so scared.

I stepped inside and walked as confidently as I could into the offices, just like the guy I'd threatened for information had said. There was no one inside to my absolute joy, and it was stupidly easy to get into the room with two desktop PCs inside. I could tell Alexe wasn't anywhere near as powerful as the major players in the city -The ones like Maroni. If he was, there would have been some security. It was becoming so clear that there was a new-money arrogance to Alexe, and a self-assurance that no one could take him on.

I had hoped that I would be able to copy some of the files to a USB stick or CD, but quickly realised my terrible oversight. Of course the computers were password protected. After trying the obvious things like 'password1234', I began to panic. Instead I hurriedly crouched beneath the desk and decided to take the part itself.

I popped out the side panel of the first tower and disconnected the wires to the DVD drive which sat in front of the part I needed to access. I unclipped it and removed it with trembling hands. Then I slid off the cover and connectors to dislodge the hard drive and withdrew it. I stuffed it inside the cardboard box.

It didn't take to long to slot everything else back into the right slots and clip the cover back on. I moved on to fhe second one, expecting to be discovered any minute. As soon as I had the second drive and the computer towers were back together, I realised another potential hitch in my plan. If they tried to use the computers and realised the drives were gone before the raid, someone might get wise to the fact there was more going on. What if they tried to get rid of the girls or move them on? There was a rising lump in my throat as I considered this.

I decided to try and buy time in case anyone did attempt to log on by deliberately turning off the power at the wall and cutting into the cables. I did my best to make it look like a rat had chewed into them. Then I turned the power back on and stood up with the closed package in my hand.

I cautiously slipped back out of the room, closing the door behind me and heading for the entrance hall. I was about five paces from it when a voice called out.

"Hey, what are you doing here?"

For a moment I considered running but knew doing so would arouse suspicions and lead to a chase. No, the best thing to do was act calm and unassuming. I turned around smiling. I'd make them attribute it to stupidity rather than malice.

"Ah, sorry. I got this parcel to deliver and I got the wrong address. Which side is 37?"

The burly man approached, looking skeptical.

"Here look," I said, placing the package on the desk and fumbling in my pocket to withdraw the fake invoice.

I held it out and he snatched it from my grasp, scanning over it. His prickly demeaour dropped by a fraction as he handed it back and held open the door so that I could exit onto the street.

"It's the opposite side of the street," he said, with a look that clearly conveyed he thought I was far too dumb for my job.

As I squeezed past, I felt like I was going to spontaneously combust from the insane amount of stress. My legs were like jelly as I walked away but no one ran to stop me. So I just kept walking. One foot in front of the other. I just kept on walking until I had rounded two corners and frantically flagged down a taxi.

🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏🃏

I laughed in giddy shock as soon as I made it back into the safety of my hotel room, locked the door and jammed the chair under the handle again. Immediately I flicked on the TV to try and drown out the sound of someone's music coming from the room above me and people shouting down the hall. I flopped down onto the bed, kicked off my shoes and pulled my spoils - the hardrives - out of the box, turning them over in my hands for a while in disbelief. It felt like a dream. I truly expected to get caught... I had been extremely lucky so far. I would be dropping one off at the DA's office, and one at a location only Renée Montoya would know to collect it from. If the DA had a copy, and her, then it was more likely this couldn't be swept under the rug again, and after what was still to come, I'd make sure peoples' eyes were on them all.

I sighed as whatever cheesy nineties sitcom was running on the TV. I was watching, but not really taking it in. I just had to hope and pray that the Ibanescus didn't realise what had been taken from them, and who by. One of them had seen me, afterall, and if someone tried to access the computers, they would soon be able to see what had happened. Everything was about timing. Only some of it could be controlled...

I laughed a little to myself, thinking life is rather like that. Timing. Always sbout timing...

Missing the bus could put you in the path of an oncoming car, or a lover... make your day, or break it. How long did any of us have left? Who should be counting the seconds? How late is too late?

Time is a great healer, or so they say. It's also a thief. It waits for no one. It's the most valuable thing a man can spend - and once lost, never found again. If you waste time, time wastes you. What's the secret to all good comedy? Timing; without it, your jokes won't land. Time was not on my side, but it also wasn't against me. I had to hope I could pull it off, that was all I could do. Blindly, if I had to.

Again I sighed and laid back on the bed. I was exhausted and whether I liked it or not, I would need enough sleep to stay sharp for the grand finalé of my plan. I had several hours to kill, so I might as well try to rest, however paranoid I felt that the Ibanescus, J, or even the cops, were after me...

I curled my body up into a foetal position with the hardrives clutched to my chest and a knife beneath the pillow. Exhaustion would take me into my subconscious, but danger still loomed over me. Before I knew whqt was happening, I was falling. Like Alice down the rabbit hole.

I found myself in a desolate place. A decimated landscape. It was all mud as far as the eye could see, the only breaks in the horizon were the bark stripped poles of blasted trees. The sky was as red as a wound while I struggled through the mud. Across duck boards and around great tangled spools of barbed wire, until I came to a dug out - a scar in the ground. Seeing a ladder, I clambered down, slipping and falling from the fourth rung into yet more mud. It covered everything. A reddish clay, caked on every surface.

The angry sky began to pour rain down over me in a torrent of misery and I wandered the maze of trenches stretching out in front of me. I was ankle deep in water. Still I saw no one. Suddenly, ear splittingly loud, the sound of machine gunfire hit me like a wave. The ground rocked beneath my feet and the air cracked with the sound of shells exploding nearby.

Terrified, I squated and threw my arms over my head. The most primeval part of me was scared, scared like an animal. Scared like I wanted to find some cave to crawl into. Still I saw no one. No evidence of the war that was apparently raging around me. A warzone where the soldiers where absent. With renewed terror I ran, darting round corners, over sandbags, splashing the mud further up my legs.

In the sly way that dreams do, everything suddenly changed. I found myself in a totally different place and was slow to notice. Accepting it as normal. Before me now was a towering staircase. The room was dimly lit, but I could make out that it was at least five flights. The steps were narrow and supported by old metal girders and ornate railings, spiralling into delicate designs. I felt that something was at my heels and lurched forward, scrambling up the steps, at times on my hands and knees, as I stumbled, my limbs still slick with wet mud.

As I finally made it to the top floor, the crispness of the cold nighttime air hit me. It was a kind of clocktower, I could tell from the enormous shadowy husks of the bells, metal giants compared to me. I skirted around them towards the clockface. The clicking of the internal mechanisms and the movement of the hands was incredibly loud and I paused for a moment in the glow of the enormous round pool of light it cast. How strange it was to be stood on the wrong side of time like this.

Jarringly, with a fluttering of heavy fabric, a large figure dropped from somewhere above me down to my level. He landed with a thud on the wooden platform. A cloak as dark as the shadows around him splayed out like a black ink blot. As he drew himself up to full height I cried out in startled fear. He rushed forward which only made my terror rise. I scrambled away from him, not wanting to turn my back. I was going too fast. Before I knew what was happening I had crashed through the glass face of the clock tower.

As my body ruptured the glass, I tried to throw myself forwards, somehow managing to grab ahold of the balcony stonework of the floor immediately below. The wind whipped at me as I dangled over a drop into oblivion. The city cars crawled like ants below me and I screamed as terror overcame me.

My limbs trembled as I clung desperately to the ledge, the rough grit of the stone scoring into the skin of my fingers and palms. My feet scrambled for purchase against the sheer face of the tower and I desperately tried not to let my right shoulder drop over the edge; I was propped up at the elbow and through sheer force of will beginning to drag myself up, up and over. If I could get enough of my torso back inside, I could make it. I cried out with the exertion and the pain in my arm as the muscles strained in protest.

As suddenly as the mysterious batman had dropped into the picture, he had semmingly vanished again. Dissipated like mist over the river.

Now I could make out a different silhouette. Of course, it was him. I couldn't run away this time. There he stood, in his purple pinstriped dress pants and blue shirt, looking even more dishevelled than he usually did, with his trouser braces hanging loose at his side and his tie undone and flapping in the wind. His tangled, green-tinted hair waved around him as he started directly at me, eyes peering out of the all-too-familar black circles.

"Help me!" I called out in total desperation.

He slowly advanced, as thunder rumbled around the black sky, briefly silencing the ever present noise of Gotham city. He knelt down about a pace in front of me, and I clawed at the air, aiming for his outstretched hand. Drenched in the rain and mud, I was a wretched creature. Like Adam reaching out for the hand of God. Like Victor Frankenstein's creation, seeking his guiding hand.

"Please-" I begged.

I had no strength to say anything else. Another flash of white lightning illuminated his face as he remained just out of reach. His expression turned my stomach. It was stoic, callous even. I redoubled my efforts to save myself at the sight of his dead eyes. Suddenly his hand closed around my wrist, and he pulled a little, offering me just a little additional strength. A spark of hope. I began to rise a little further towards salvation, so close to the point of safety. I pushed harder, thinking I could get up and over to safety.

My eyes met his, hoping to see something kinder in them this time. Instead, I was met with a faint glimmer of sadistic amusement and I noted the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. I watched in despair as a real grin joined the permanent red smile.

I knew then. I was wrong to think he would help me.

His arm which had been pulling upwards, slowly stopped, leaving me dangling, watching my struggle. He was enjoying it. I knew what was coming and there was nothing I could do stop it. He was like a cat toying with a mouse. His grip began to loosen. I stopped struggling. I didn't scream. A hint of disappointment flashed in his eyes at my attempts not to give him what he wanted. I was spoiling the sadistic satisfaction he was withdrawing from the moment. He looked down at me again, this time with the same disappointment that a child might regard a broken toy with.

Then he let me go. I began to fall. Time seemed to slow almost to a stop as I lurched down, watching him silently as I did. He began to laugh. Even as I fell, and couldn't see him anymore, it was like it followed me. It was so loud. Ringing in my ears. Poking its way into my brain.

Tag List

If I forgot anyone or you want to be removed from the tag list - please let me know! 💕

@dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd

@dance-like-a-clown

@furisodespirit

@heath-ledger-jokers-wife

@sunfyrejoker

@lightsabergirl

@clowning--around

@ruby-da-archangel

@harleenqvinn

@helchronicles

@ostricx

@knoepfl

@vampiiriic

@jumpingjellyfishhaha

@nicklet94

@torossosebs

@all-bi-myselfs-blog

@myassisasolarsystem

@secondminkoq

@mikuley

@robin-the-enby

MASTERLIST CONTINUED II ⬇️

Dividers by @strangergraphics

[sunfyrejoker]

omg momonga joker and momonga aegon !!

(you can see i'm fucking lazy and colored this terribly :p cute for something done quickly, i think)

[sunfyrejoker]

i need some thoughts on my dragon edit (I’m new to this, only made like two edits before ૮(˶╥︿╥)ა

[sunfyrejoker]

Joker is the father btw

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

[sunfyrejoker]

Spinosaurus Stimboard

Requested by: 🎊🍬

🪨 - 🌴🐊🌴 - 🌴🐊🌴 - 🌴🐊🌴 - 🪨

[sunfyrejoker]

You’re crazy - I’m not. 

                          No. I’m. not.

[sunfyrejoker]

Old Scars (Part 20)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? Generally I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, violence, mentions of minor characters (not J) being misogynist/threatening SA, reference to past traumatic injury. NSFW in one or two places but mainly this is narrative/story based first and foremost. In this chapter, discussions of violence. Otherwise a milder one.

Part 20 -

First of all, I needed to find the address of the club we had visited, and to do that, I would need to find somewhere I could access the internet. I threw on the most unassuming clothes I had and separated out some of the money. I would need somewhere to hide the rest of the cash and weapons, which I wasn't about to carry around in broad daylight. There was a drop ceiling in the bathroom. If I climbed on top of the toilet seat I could pop out one of the panels and stash them up there inside of a pillow case. Satisfied with my solution, I popped the tile back into place and set to removing the chair barricading the door.

The sun was desperately trying to break through the clouds again, and for the first time in such a long time, the rain had stopped. It didn't take me long to find an internet café and tuck myself away at the back. I tried searching for the nightclub using what little I could remember of the area, which wasn't a whole lot. I knew it had to be in one of the "less desirable" neighbourhoods, but it wasn't the Narrows. I had to sift through multiple results that came up on google maps, though I doubted they would advertise there. It would require someone tech savvy enough to add the business - and, if they turned a blind eye to mob dealings taking place in their VIP section, then that probably meant they wanted to keep a lower profile on purpose. It was still a fairly new concept to a lot of people, so there was no guarantee you'd find any place you were looking for.

Still, I checked each result that popped up, hoping someone else might have added it. I was about to give up altogether when I remembered the restaurant we had passed to get in through the back doors. I cross-referenced the tags on the map with restaurants nearby and found a couple of results that way.

Finally one of the pages looked familiar. Opening the three images attached to the restaurant listing, I realised I had found it. I hurriedly scribbled down the address. I needed to run some observations and try and get ahold of more information. As ridiculous as it seemed, I also needed to get food, a new toothbrush and paste, and shampoo for my hair.

As I wandered the aisles of the nearest grocery store, I felt like I was in a trance. The mundanity of it felt so jarring now. Ever since the Joker had grabbed me by the hand and plunged me directly into the criminal whirlpool, things had been escalating, spiralling downwards. Now I was circling the drain. I moved along unseen, unimportant, uninteresting. Minding your business was a strategy everyone in the city seemed to have learned; one of the first lessons upon your arrival in Gotham. It was second-nature, and allowed so much to slip by: unseen, unheard, unhindered. It was infuriating, but for now, it would work to my advantage.

Back in my hotel room, I replaced the chair under the door handle and flopped down onto the bed. I would eat and then try to rest despite the riot of thoughts in my head, before going to the club in the evening. Somehow, I managed two more hours before shouting in the hall and the slamming of a door woke me up with a start. The other guests at this particular establishment would often remind me of their presence with loud noises - arguments, playing music, talking on the phone in the hall. The city outside was much the same, with the constant sounds of traffic, the trains, police sirens, and shouts of residents blurred together into one wall of sound. I turned over and buried my head beneath the pillow in exasperation.

Later, when I woke up, head fuzzy from deep sleep I wandered into the bathroom to splash my face with cold water. When I finally made it out onto the street I saw that

the uncharacteristically fair weather had held on into twilight. The the sun lit up the sky in a blaze of red, yellow, and purple, the same hues of the fading bruises I'd gained during my fight with Vladislav, my fear toxin trip, and even some from my passionate transgressions with J. As I drifted through the city streets like a ghost, I looked up at the electrical poles, with their tangled web of black wires strung across the sky like spiderwebs. The air hummed with a static energy, and I was so focused on my self-appointed mission that the faceless masses of people faded away around me. It was as if, even for only one moment, the city threw me no obstacles: she embraced me. This must be how the criminals felt. Now that her darker facets were working in my favour, it felt liberating.

It was dangerous. I reminded myself not to get complacent...

Perhaps it was the lack of water, which was usually pouring down, driving the residents into the ground during Winter. Instead there was the faintest promise of Spring in the breeze, a gentle reprieve from the bleak greyness of November through March. As I boarded the train, I again found myself gazing longingly up at the brilliant sky. The clouds were ablaze with orange fire. My mind's eye instantly transported me into his arms; the flames dancing in his dark eyes matching the burning in my chest. The yearning was almost too much. I thrust my head into my hands as I sat down. Without him, there was only the monochrome misery of my boring little life in an ugly, desperate place.

I thought again about how we had stood still in the street in my dream, as the panicked crowd flowed around us like water. There we stood, just two of us. Immovable against the current. But then, like a scalpel, the harshness of his words, the detachment with which he spoke them, cut me deeply. How was it that he could be so callous about killing?

This tumultuous state of mind stayed with me all the way to my destination. It wasn't until my unsteady feet found their way into the familiar looking alley at the back of the restaurant and the nightclub, that my determination to find what I had come looking for took over.

I had dressed myself in jeans and a t-shirt, a hoodie and a pair of old sneakers. My goal wasn't to get inside the club itself - not tonight. I also had with me a backpack containing a camcorder, a notepad and pen, and in case I fucked things up majorly, the loaded handgun with the safety engaged. The final item I had, though not intentionally, was the pair of sunglasses I had bought in the corner store on the night I'd helped J escape the cops at his apartment. They were in the front pouch of my hoodie and I found them there when I stuffed my hands in there, ducking behind one of the many dumpsters. I wondered if I should have just bought the first ticket out of Gotham the morning after I'd made my escape from him... or maybe, even, that i'd stayed, as I fiddled with them to calm my nerves.

I stayed that way for so long that my nose started to sting with the cold as the last traces of the sun vanished. I was about to give up, feeling stupid and out of my depth, when a pair of headlights crawled along the alley and a car followed. I switched on the camera and pointed it at the approaching vehicle, watching intently as three men steppes out. The first two were huge - meatheads who were obviously security detail for the third guy. He was much shorter, with a smug grin and an ill-fitting suit. I zoomed the camera in on the three figures as they stood under the street lamp. The car pulled away into the dark, leaving them. The short man lit up a fat cigar with a puff of smoke.

"You sure you wanna do that out here boss?"

"Calm your tits, it's a disgusting thing, Brady getting beat half to death out here, but even someone that brazen isn't about to take on the Ibanescu family," he crowed.

I scribbled down the names.

"True but -"

Their Boss stubbed out the cigar on the bricks and stuffed it back into his pocket once he was satisfied it was dead.

"Okay, okay! Are you my grandmother? Jeez!" He waved off the man's concern dismissively.

As they approached the door they paused for a moment. One of the two big men leaned in closely to inspect something.

"Damn, you can see where that shit went clean through his hand into the door," he thought aloud.

The other two huddled closer to look.

"His fingers 'ain't never gonna move the same," said the other big man, grimly.

The image of J, his thunderous expression, and the swift motion of him plunging the knife through my attacker's hand replayed in my mind. A slight smile tugged at my lips as I thought about the look of fear on his face. Men like that were so used to be the ones creating fear in others...

One of the big men knocked his enormous fist against the door and they waited. Soon, the door was flung open to admit them. I recognised the man who waved them inside as the security man for the nightclub who had let us into the building as well. If this was something he'd done both for J, and this 'Ibanescu' man, then I guessed his loyalty was to the money paid rather than anyone in particular. I noted this observation down.

As the men disappeared inside, I took a risk and darted out from my hiding place, across the alley, just in time to catch the door before it closed all the way. I quickly switched from video to photograph the lock - a simple yale and no deadbolt. It was possible to engage the latch so the door clicked shut but didn't lock. That was also good to know. Peering inside and seeing no visible security cameras, I decided to go for it.

I shoved my camera into my backpack and slipped along the familiar hallway, ducking low out of sight near the turn off to the bustling kitchen. As I approached the double doors into the club, I slipped on the sunglasses, just in case I ran into anyone who might recognise me. It was a very good thing I did, because the towering figure of the security man suddenly pushed through the doors in front of me.

In a flash of quick thinking, I decided to address him first: if in doubt, play dumb.

"Excuse me? I'm lost. Can you help me?" I asked casually.

"How the fuck did you get in here?" He muttered back in disbelief.

"Oh, i'm sorry. Is the restaurant closed or something?"

"Restaurant?"

"Yeah. The Gooden Dragon?"

"No, no. That's out the front. You can't be in here!" He said angrily.

"Oh? I'm sorry. My eyesight's no good and I don't know the area yet. My bad," I laughed sheepishly, deliberately feeling my way along the wall.

He looked at my shades and my clumsy attempt to locate the exit, and came to the conclusion I was visually impaired, just as I'd hoped.

"You're blind?"

"Legally yeah. Sorry to bother you! I just followed the directions I was given and thought I'd made it. Followed some people in here. Won't do that again!" I said in as jolly a tone as I could muster.

I was too afraid of being found out to feel guilty for such a lie.

"Hey wait. You're not far off at all, let me help you get round the front, I was just coming out here for a smoke break," he offered sheepishly.

I could smell the cheap cigarette he was smoking as he led me back up the alley and to the front of the Chinese restaurant. I couldn't help but think about J, seeing him sat on the couch with his feet propped up on the coffee table, chain smoking as I sketched his form in black ink. As I caught sight on my reflection in the steamed up window to the Golden Dragon, I wondered what he was doing at this exact moment...

The guy insisted in helping me to place my order inside so I had to keep up my charade a little longer. As we waited I felt compelled to speak.

"Thank you for helping me. What's your name?"

"Amir, how about you?" He answered.

"Jane," I lied, omitting "Doe" and hoping he wouldn't press for a surname, unravelling the threads of my obvious lie.

You know, Jane, you really gotta be more careful round here..." he warned.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, bad things happen in this neighbourhood. You have to be careful."

"Bad things happen all over this city, i'm sure it's not so bad," I dismissed him, wanting to see if he's elaborate.

No. Trust me, like, only last week someone got attacked in that alley."

"Oh no, you mean like a mugging?"

"No, no. Apparently two men attacked him. He was stabbed and beat with a crowbar. Just out of the blue."

I felt a mixture of emotion at this, both a faint feeling oh shame that I had given myself over to such violence, and anger that the guy had been to cowardly to admit to having his ass beat by a woman. At least saying he'd been attacked by two men would keep me out of the picture.

"That's terrible. Who would do something like that? Is the guy okay?" I asked, somehow suppressing my reaction.

"Well, I wouldn't say I knew him too well. John Brady - he's a regular."

"Oh right, but surely you've seen him at the club since?" I prodded carefully.

"Oh yeah, I've seen him. But..." he looked around and leaned in closer to me, lowering his voice, "in all honesty, some of the women have complained about him. I'd hoped he would be too scared to come back, but he's in business with Alexe Ibanescu, so of course he's not."

"Can you not ban him from the club if multiple women have brought it up?" I muttered, unable to keep some of the irritation out of my tone.

"No, you don't get it. The Ibanescus run the local dog fights, and uh, a big prostitution ring, around here. Right now they're buying up property like crazy, trying to become a bigger player. Alexe recently bought the club, he will never ban one of his associates," he explained looking very uncomfortable.

"So you have to let it slide?" I murmured.

"Yes, I don't like it. I try to keep an eye out but what can I do?"

I thought about it silently for a moment.

"Anyways, none of this is relevant to you. I just meant - Look, if someone on the untouchable list like him can get attacked like that, you see why I'm telling you to be careful?" He urged with a sigh.

"I get it, and I appreciate the advice," I nodded as he handed over the bagged up food they put on the counter.

"How are you gonna get back?"

"I'll call a cab," I answered, waving my Nokia burner phone in one hand.

He insisted on waiting with me until it pulled up and I climbed inside. I watched him from behind my blacked out lenses as we pulled away and merged into traffic, sinking down into the back seat in relief as the city lights whirred past. I took out my notepad and pen and jotted down what Amir had just told me. I circled the names Alexe Ibanescu and John Brady: I had just gained some major leads.

🃏 Author's note: I PROMISE J will be back, and it will be worth the wait Xx

Also to those of you who comment, thank you so very much. It can get a bit hard to find the motivation to write sometimes but you all keep me going 💕 🃏

Tag List

If I forgot anyone or you want to be removed from the tag list - please let me know! 💕

@dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd

@dance-like-a-clown

@furisodespirit

@heath-ledger-jokers-wife

@sunfyrejoker

@lightsabergirl

@clowning--around

@ruby-da-archangel

@harleenqvinn

@helchronicles

@ostricx

@knoepfl

@jumpingjellyfishhaha

@nicklet94

@torossosebs

@all-bi-myselfs-blog

Link to the Masterlist of other Chapters ⬇️

Title graphic by me, dividers by @strangergraphics ✨️

[sunfyrejoker]

i get why she got scared and ran away, now I'm super excited to see J's reaction >⩊< great chapter as always!

Old Scars (Part 18)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, threat of violence, weapons. ANGST Beyond this i'm not sure, i'll update these when I write more.

Part 18 -

I slept deeply for so many hours that it was pitch black by the time I came around. I was alone in the bed and disoriented. I struggled to work out where I was for a moment, peering into the darkness as I sat on the edge of the bed. I thought that I could hear voices. Men's voices, and more than one.

Quietly, I picked my way acros the floor and slipped out of the door into the hall. I tried to be silent with each step as I approached the kitchen, stopping just short of the doorway to listen in. There were more of them than I had expected, and even without seeing them, I felt a little afraid. When the only familiar voice met my ears, it was somewhat comforting to hear J.

"There are three locations for this, all of them are important," he said.

There were murmurs of agreement from the others.

"What about Maroni?" one of the men interjected.

"What about him? We'll deal with him later. Now listen closely," J replied, the hint of irritation in his voice was like a snake winding up for a strike.

The men fell silent again.

"I need you to put the drums, here, here and here. Then we'll rig up the charges. The detonator needs to be long-range."

"Alright, but what about that building there. There could be a lot of people in that one?" Asked another of the men.

"Your point being what exactly?" J countered.

"Well, what if one of them spots us?"

"They won't. We'll be covert."

"And, if the blast damages that block too?"

"Collateral. If you want to make an omelette, you gotta break a few eggs."

J's casual tone pierced me like a knife.

I knew what he was, but I had been distracted by whatever feelings had begun to take root in me; I had lost sight of this side of him. The revelation of the Joker as he was, as I had first met him, burned.

I felt sick. I wanted to go back to bed and pretend I hadn't heard any of this.

As I moved to head back to the relative safety of the bedroom, my shoulder caught the faded plastic receiver of the wall-mounted phone - a relic of the appartment's past. I managed to catch it before it hit the floor but the clatter of plastic as it came off the hook had already betrayed me.

I hurriedly replaced it into the cradle and darted as quietly as I could back down the hall. I closed the door as softly as I could and practically threw myself back into the bed, tossing the covers over me and turning to face away from the door. I felt my whole body tense in agonising anticipation as foosteps entered the hall.

I cursed my clumsiness and willed myself to stay as still as I could in the total darkness, barely able to draw a breath. A hand was on the door, unlatching it and a bar of light from the hall illuminated the space. Someone stepped through, and pushed it closed softly, leaving only the tiniest sliver of illumination. With each step towards the bed I felt as though my heart was being squeezed. They stopped at my back and I could hear my pulse, blood rushing, in my ears. There was only this and the silence in the room with us.

I could smell the faintest hint of familiar smoky cologne and realised it must be him. At first I felt a tiny bit relieved, but my heart soon dropped as I heard something which sent my hair prickling up my spine:

The clack of a knife springing open.

Silence again poured over me, drowning me as I was forced to remain frozen in place. He seemed to stand there for so long with the open knife in his hand that I began to wonder if he was trying to decide what to do. The entire time my brain was eating itself, desperately trying to think of some way out of this. Should I move as though I was stirring? Or was it better to stay stock still? Was he debating whether to kill me? Did that mean there was a chance I could persuade him not to?

Still silence. Each second was agonizing. My throat burned as I tried to hold my breathing steady.

It took everything in me not to flinch as he finally broke out of the stalemate and reached out a hand to touch me. He bent over me and stroked the hair which had fallen by my cheek with a delicate tenderness I didn't think he was capable of. I still didn't dare to move. He gave a kind of frustrated sigh and I heard him put away the knife. Then his footsteps retreated again and the door opened and closed softly. I gasped in relief as soon as I heard him go down the hall.

As I lay there in the darkness, I began to wonder what they were plotting. People were going to die, that much was certain. My mind was plagued by the harsh reality which had so suddenly been forced into it. How could I have let myself get so tangled up with him? Killing off mobsters was one thing, but this was different...

The accusations of the crooked cops wound their way into my troubled mind too. They had accused me of whoring myself out to him, of pursuing him like the women who seek out relationships with serial killers behind bars. It wasn't true then; the idea had disgusted me. But what about now? I wasn't able to shake the images of what I'd let him to do me, or the feeling of shame at how much i'd enjoyed it.

I curled up into a ball and stayed that way until long after I heard the men leave. I felt so stupid for not taking my chance to escape several times over. Why had I agreed to stay? I had no cellphone, and no one to call if I did anyhow, and until he left I would not get another chance to walk out of the front door without him knowing. I chewed my nails anxiously, trying to workout what I could do.

The sound of him moving around the apartment only heightened my anxiety. Would he consider killing me again? Did he do this every night while I was sleeping? I thought about the weapons stockpile in the other room. What if I took something? Could I use it in defence, or even, could I kill him first? I desperately scrabbled around in my head trying to formulate some kind of plan.

The sound of the door latch made my breath stick in my throat as he entered the room. He flicked on the table lamp and sank down onto his side of the bed. Then he kicked off his shoes and laid down beside me with a rumbling sigh.

I felt his cold hands snake around my mid-section and pull me closer to him. What would have been so comforting just a few hours earlier now felt like a trap. I continued to pretend I was sleeping while he held me, occasionally stroking his thumb against my bare skin. His breath was tickling my shoulder blade as I kept my eyes tightly shut.

It took a long time but eventually the relaxation of his grip and his slower breathing confirmed he had fallen asleep. I was terrified of waking him but I had to get out. I figured until I was fully clothed and about to step out of the door, if he did wake i'd just have to act like I'd got up to shower or eat - just behave as normally as possible. I very, very tentatively slipped out of his arms.

He stirred and I froze, but saw that he quickly resettled without me being in his grasp. I rose up from the bed, slipping along the length of the wall. I wasn't even sure of the time, but it didn't matter. I had to go. It had to be now. I gathered my duffle bag and made it out of the bedroom door. I was too afraid to turn on the hallway light in case it woke him, but knew I had to be careful not to knock the phone down again. As soon as I made it into the blue room, I hurriedly threw on a pair of sweats and a jumper. My fingers were shaking as I laced up my boots and bundled the t-shirt and shorts I had been wearing back into the bag, on top of the clothes and makeup I had put in there back in one of the warehouses.

Here I paused, just for a moment. I felt too afraid to consider where I would go, but I knew if I wanted to have a chance of laying low, I'd need cash. I hurriedly searched the room and it wasn't long before I came across a couple of stacks of dog-eared bills. I stuffed them into my bag and then set to looking at the contents of the crates. Most of the weapons were far too big and specialist for me to consider using. I needed smaller things.

In the end, I pocketed a taser and a handgun. Sliding the magazine out of it, I was able to compare it to the ones it had been laid on top of in the crate. They looked identical, so I took them with me as well. Suddenly, I wondered if the taser also required cartridges and went back to where I'd picked it up. Sure enough, there they were. I stuffed three into my bag. For good measure I grabbed a baton and a set of brass knuckles.

Not wanting to risk being discovered raiding his supplies I hurriedly zipped up the bag and slung it over my shoulder. As I was about to pass back into the hall, something made me pause. On the chair to my right, within reach, was the porcelain face of my carnival mask. I wanted so badly to pick it up, but with the realisation that the bells might give me away, I stopped short. I hurriedly crossed over to another crate and took out a knife. It was stupid but I didn't want to leave it behind so I hurriedly yet meticulously cut each golden bell from the tips of the triangles framing the face, gripping each one to dull the sound. I placed them one by one in a line on the carpet and pocketed the blade.

With the taser in one hand, and the mask in the other, I tip toed my way to the front door. I felt so sure he would know, and be waiting there to laugh at my foolishness for thinking I could outsmart him, but he wasn't. I slowly turned the key in the lock and it clicked open. I could still hear his distant snoring over the buzzing of the refrigerator and figured I was in the clear. I stepped out into the crisp night air and gently closed the door after me.

As soon as I made it down the steps, I bolted like a hare knowing the hunter is at his heels. I ran, and ran, my breath coming out in big swirling clouds of vapour. I darted across the desolate industrial landscape of the docklands, until I finally crossed into the fringes of city blocks, the old tenaments towering over me. I couldn't run any further and had to drop into a fast walk instead, only stopping briefly to stuff the mask into the duffle.

I turned this way and that through the streets until I hit the nearest station. Panting for breath, I staggered up the steps and onto the idling train car just before the doors hissed closed behind me. There were only a handful of other passengers and I collapsed into one of the seats.

I didn't know where to go or what to do, so I decided to ride the trains until I could figure it out. It would help to randomly switch directions occasionally; I didn't want to be tracked down. The fear of discovery was still looming over me - I had just stolen from the Joker and run away into the night. He was not likely to take it well, even if he had promised I could walk away. What had I done? I was in an ungodly mess of a situation... I held my head in my hands defeatedly as the city lights flickered by and the train rattled over the elevated tracks.

Link to the masterlist for other chapters:

Tag list:

If I forgot anyone or you want to be removed from the tag list - please let me know! 💕

@dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd

@dance-like-a-clown

@furisodespirit

@heath-ledger-jokers-wife

@sunfyrejoker

@lightsabergirl

@clowning--around

@ruby-da-archangel

@harleenqvinn

@helchronicles

@ostricx

@knoepfl

@jumpingjellyfishhaha

@nicklet94

@torossosebs

@all-bi-myselfs-blog

Dividers by @strangergraphics ✨️

[sunfyrejoker]

Old Scars (Part 17)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, violence, mentions of minor characters (not J) being misogynist/threatening SA, reference to past traumatic injury. Spicier scenes to begin with here but actually mainly a very non-violent chapter. Beyond this i'm not sure, i'll update these when I write more.

Chapter 17 -

We had been locked into this latest dance for some time now, though time didn't seem to exist as long as we were entangled. I pushed him down onto his back and clambered on top of him, eagerly holding him there. He looked up at me with that strange flicker of admiration again, as I drank in the sense of power I felt at handling him like that, the way he had done to me several times already.

Softly, I ran my thumb over his bottom lip and along the length of one of his scars, feeling how his breath caught in his throat with each deliberate movement my hips made. His blacked out eyes fluttered closed as I tightened my grip on him, drawing him closer and closer into me. He had made good on his threats, finding just the right ways to play me with all the precision of a concert violinist, his hands giving life to all kinds of crescendos.

I threaded my fingers into his curls behind his ear and clenched my hand into a fist, pulling his head back harder against the pillow and teasing a ragged moan out of his parted lips. Unable to resist, I bent down to meet him there, planting a building kiss on his painted mouth. My tongue brushed against his own and sent fresh shivers rushing through me. He kissed me back hungrily, as though he was a man dying of thirst and I was cool water. Like the breaking of the swell against the shorleline, like great rolling waves in a winter storm, we both hit our final apex.

It wasn't until were were both completely spent, collapsing back onto the bed in total defeat, with the first weak rays of morning sunlight poking through the ill-fitting curtains, that I realised how much time must have passed. As I felt his chest rise and fall, each movement becoming gradually shallower, I sighed contentedly. We were both drifting back down to baseline and very slowly the outside world was trickling back into focus. For the entire night, I forgot it existed altogether. The world could have been ending, and I wouldn't have known - or cared.

Unlike the previous re-escalation that had followed brief periods of down-time, I knew that this time we were both finally too tired to go further. Our bodies were covered in the streaked remnants of his face paint, and the various other marks we had left on each other.

Now the intensity of the moment had finally dissipated, I felt a lick of shame at how freely and totally I had given myself over to him, and how eager I was to return all of his affections - whether tender, or violent. I felt like I had regressed into an animal state; possesed by the primeval. It thrilled and terrified me as I lay beside him in silent rapture, turning my head away.

The ugly wallpaper seemed to move: the faded floral design twisting and winding. The heads of giant, faded peonies lolling and dropping, petals shaken from their stalks floating to the floor. I knew well-enough that it was just another aftershock of the drug and they were getting fewer and less intense, but it was still unsettling.

"It's happening again..." I murmured.

I felt him roughly tug at my shoulder, rolling me onto my back, and he leant over me as I stared up at him. I felt his hands slide over my own and pin me down, but I could tell his demeanour was playful. I watched the colours on his face, they seemed like an impressionist painting - the outlines faded and blurred.

"What do you see?"

I was silent for a moment as I pondered his question, his face swimming gradually into sharper focus.

"I see you."

"You saw me before. What if you're still dreaming?" He said, his eyes widening in frantic excitement.

"I'm not."

"How do you know?"

"I'm not dreaming."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," I snapped, my temper flaring.

He leaned closer over me, still holding me down.

"But how do you know?"

"Because, I'm not afraid right now."

"Hm, maybe you should be," he said in a way that sent a fresh mixture of fear and excitement through me.

"That place was hell."

"And this place isn't?" He mused.

I tugged one arm free and was struggling to try and pry his grip from my other.

"Yes. And? Let me go already!" I snapped, losing all patience.

He watched my struggle with an air of detachment, before slowly releasing me and humming some kind of made up tune to himself. He had clearly extracted the information he wanted from me in the moment. Things were still swimming a little as I stared at him in silent irritation. He leant back against the headboard, lazily throwing one arm up behind his head.

"So if it's not hell, is it heaven?" He teased.

"Try purgatory," I muttered, not wanting to give any further inflation to his ego.

"Well, if you're still not convinced, I'll just have to convince you," he said, grabbing me again and planting kisses along my collar bone and up my neck.

As good as it felt, I was more than exhausted and had no clue how he had any stamina left in the tank himself.

"Hah, very funny," I muttered, slapping my hand over his face and pushing him away from me like I was reprimanding an over-excitable dog for jumping up at me.

I rolled out of his reach and got up, stretching out and gathering my clothes so that I could get dressed.

"I'm hungry," I announced as my stomach growled in confirmation.

I threw his clothes back at him in a bundle as well, much to his chagrin. Despite playing up his protests, he did also get dressed and wandered back to ground zero - wiping the remnants of his paint away in the bathroom mirror. I also removed the lingering traces of him from my skin as he watched me silently.

"There's a diner a couple of blocks from here. If you give me a half hour, we can go there."

I was a little surprised by this, but it was by no means unwelcome, so I tried not to show it and agreed. I left him to his own devices and wandered the other two rooms in the property. There was what must have been another bedroom once, the walls splashed with fading blue paint. It had several of the crates I had seen in the warehouses he used, and opening one confirmed my suspicions that they were full of weapons. I froze for a moment, considering the weight of the discovery.

Not wanting to think about who might end up staring down the barrel of any of them, I hurriedly replaced the lid and moved on down the hall. This area had a kitchen which might have looked in vogue during the eighties, but clearly had not been updated in any way since. There were a handful of pots and pans in the sink and water dripping periodically onto them was the only sound that filled the empty space.

Suddenly, J reappeared and I found myself missing his purple coat when I saw it had been usurped by a dull beige one. I threw on my own black coat and a scarf, helping him to wind his own around him. As we walked out and down the steps onto the icy lot, he lit up a cigarette and exhaled clouds of smoke into the frosty air. Everything around us seemed to have a faded blue-grey tone in the bleakness of winter.

We made the walk in silence. I didn't know what to say: we had crossed a boundary. He opened the door for me and I slipped by him into the warmth of the diner. It was a pretty jumbled space inside, with a riot of chaotic kitsch décor, but it felt comforting, espescially in contrast to the greyscale world outside. The black and white checkered flooring, the neon casting green and red light, and the random assortment of vintage desert Americana which was wildly out of place in an East Coast city. All of it was oddly comforting. There were only three other people inside, one being the waitress. Maybe there was a cook in the back, but beyond that... I was relieved it wasn't crowded out.

We decided to sit at the opposite end to the one occupied booth, away from civilisation and possible prying eyes. I sank down onto the red leather upholstry and propped my elbows against the silver table between us as he settled into the seat opposite. It was jarring to see him in such a mundane setting, his face absent of the paint and his clothes so unremarkable. The light above him cast him in an eerie green light, and the one above me made my skin look red. The lighting reminded me of dive bars, biker clubs, and old technicolour horror movies.

"I thought you were supposed to take the girl out for food before you got through all the bases." I said, deciding humour was the best way to break the ice.

He laughed.

"Tell me, is that before or after you kidnap the girl when she's pretending to be able to afford the clothes that rich people wear?"

I laughed at the absurdity of the truth in what he was saying.

"You don't think I should have gone window shopping?"

"That's such a fence-sitting mentality. If you want something, you should just take it - by force if necessary," he said, leaning across the table with a chaotic glint in his eyes.

He shrank back into his seat with the arrival of the waitress and we placed our orders and she disappeared again.

"Not everyone has that luxury. That's a very male perspective," I rebuked him.

He seemed to consider this for a moment.

"True enough, but there are different ways of getting people to cooperate."

"And is that what you do to me?" I muttered

He frowned.

"No. I like to see what you do, the choices you make. Why would I take that away? Although, under certain specific conditions, you seemed more than happy to... cooperate," he cracked a smile.

"Oh, I see. Well, if I recall correctly, you were pretty comfortable inverting that dynamic. Those in glass houses shouldn't throw stones," I pushed back.

"I like the unpredictable. Routine is so boring."

"I can't disagree with you there."

I watched him as he fidgeted ceaselessly. To the casual observer it might have looked like anxiety, or even that he was on something, but I knew it came from the unbearable restlessness within him.

The waitress returned and set down the food front of us. Once her back was turned J poured a truly insane amount of sugar onto his pancakes.

"Is this a date?" I asked suddenly, after only one bite of mine.

He seemed a little agitated by my disarming question.

"No".

"Are you sure, because you showered, brushed your teeth and is that - cologne?"

"And that makes this a date?" He said as he set to deconstructing the stack of pancakes in front of him.

"No, what makes it a date is that you're trying to eat differently, and playing house with me here..."

He looked a little irritated at my observations, then confused before shaking all of that off. His face took on a meaner expression, colder and more calculating than before.

"Aren't you the one who started all of this. What happened to-,' he cleared his throat as he hunched forward and began to mockingly imitate my voice, "lie to me, spin me a little fairytale. Tell me everything's wonderful and it'll stay that way."

His words, though deliberately cruel, didn't cut as deep as he'd intended; I had tougher skin than that.

"Sheesh, if you're going to start being mean again, I'm gonna need a drink," I said, waving to the waitress as she poured coffee for the other occupied table at the far end.

"It's not even ten in the morning..." J muttered in disbelief.

"And what? You suddenly care about rules," I laughed.

I flagged down the waitress.

"Hi, excuse me, can I get a margarita please?"

She looked a little taken aback but tried her best to hide it.

"Um, sure miss, I'll see what we can do,"

"Thanks, I really appreciate it," I added, putting down a tip pre-emptively.

J raised his eyebrow as she retreated.

"A margarita?!" He said, clearly amused.

"What are you, my grandmother? Stop clutching at your pearls already," I teased, kicking him under the table.

I'd accidentally done it more forcefully than I had meant to and he looked at me stony-faced for a moment. I froze. Then he broke into a smile and raucous laughter. It was definitely preferable to see his mood shift again and I couldn't help but laugh too.

She returned with a glass which looked like it was for an ice cream sundae, complete with lime slices, a sparkly decoration that looked like a little tinsel firework and a little paper umbrella fir good measure.

"I hope it's okay, I had to look up how to make it," she said anxiously.

"Ah look how cute that is! Thank you!" I beamed.

The waitress gave me a genuine smile, pleased with her improvisation and cautiously waited for me to taste it. I sipped it and gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. I slid her a hundred dollar bill and her eyes went wide like two saucers. I beckoned her closer.

"Put that in your pocket and don't tell your boss. It's only for you, and we'll pay for the food like normal at the end." I whispered.

She shakily stashed it and smiled as she left us to finish eating.

J was watching me wordlessly the entire time. I deliberately ignored his gaze and finshed off my bacon pancakes between sips of margarita.

"You have a soft spot for people in the service industry, particularly young women."

"Well that makes me sound very creepy."

"But it's true."

"Well, yeah. Since they're the people who often get the most shit from everyone else. What else am I supposed to do with blood money anyway?"

"Ah. So it makes you feel better about that being stolen mob cash? I see," he said leaning back in seat.

"Well, what else am I gonna do? Spend it on some stupid consumerist bullshit that I don't need? And it's not like a couple of thousand would get me my own apartmemt, is it? So may as well give it away to people who deserve it."

"But you have next to nothing yourself, you said as much. You're not tempted deposit it all in your account?"

"No. I've nearly died twice now. Money isn't gonna come with me when I finally kick the bucket, is it? Sure, I could put it in my account and give a few more month's rent to my crooked landlord, but then what? Besides, if I use my bank account, those crooked cops could easily find out i'm alive."

"It's true about your account, of course," he conceeded.

"Look, I'm not saying it changes anything drastically, but I try to help people and I don't see that as a weakness. I don't expect you to understand that."

"Hm," was all he responded as he continued to dissect his pancakes.

His constant analytical interrogation made me feel like I was also on his plate. Sure, he was trying to get to know me, but the way he approached it like some sort of study, some kind of post-mortem investigation, unsettled me.

I gazed out of the window at the nearly empty lot. The fog was once again rolling in from the docks filling the city with shadows and obscurity. It reminded me again of what I'd seen while dosed with the toxin.

"Can you dance?" I asked abruptly.

He frowned.

"Well, that depends, are we talking saturday night fever or ballroom?"

"Can you Waltz?"

I watched his facial expressions as he seemed to privately rake over his mystery past.

"It's been a long time, and I wouldn't say well. What about you?"

"No."

"You were trying on ball gowns and you don't know how to dance..." he said in mild amusement.

I sighed.

"You didn't learn for school dances or anything like that?"

"No, I didn't have much time for - it doesn't matter."

"Ah, troubled kid were we?" He said, waving his fork in my direction.

"The past is the past, let's not pull on those threads," I said, finishing my drink.

He looked a little disappointed, but didn't say anything in protest. I couldn't hide the sadness which was filling me up suddenly. He watched me closely as I neatly placed my knife and fork on my empty plate and pushed it away from me. I set down enough to cover the bill from one of the stacks of stray bills J had in his hideout. It was a relief that he truly did not care about money or if I took some of it. In all honesty, it felt good to have it on me, if only for times like these where I didn't have to worry about paying for food and could leave a generous tip. It was a power I wasn't accustomed to having.

He stood up and put back on his coat and scarf. As I was doing the same, he suddenly grabbed me by the hand and tugged me into the aisle. I felt like my arm was going to pop out of place almost.

"Ouch, what gives?" I gasped.

"I have an idea. You'll see," he answered slyly.

He grinned and continued to drag me to the door. The waitress smiled and I hurriedly waved goodbye as we passed her, before I was whisked outside into the cold.

We crossed one of the abandoned parking lots, peppered with the bare limbs of various plants breaking through the cracks in the concrete. They rustled in the breeze and the fog was so thick that I couldn't see more than a few metres in any direction. The gulls screamed as they circled ahead, like the restless spirits of unseen sailors - ships had sunk to the bottom of the harbour in a long bygone era. There was a beauty in the strangeness of the desolate space and the city had disappeared into it.

"Now, let me see. I think I know the sequence of steps," J muttered, abruptly stopping and pulling me in close.

"What?"

"Put your hand here, and here. No, here," He instructed, posing my limbs like a marionette on unseen strings.

"What are you doing?" I demanded anxiously.

"Don't you want to dance?" He asked, sounding frustrated.

"Well yes, but-"

He cut me off by interjecting.

"Good! This is the first position."

I shakily followed his direction, feeling immediately self-conscious.

"Then step this way. Just mirror my feet."

I felt so clumsy and uncoordinated but tried to follow each slow move.

"See how it makes a box?" He encouraged.

"I think so?"

"Just keep following. I put this foot forward, you put that one back. It's push and pull."

I did start to settle into the rhythm of it with the repetition, and he seemed to add a turn so that we began to rotate around with the steps. It made me think of a Spirograph, like the one I had as a kid. I imagined our path drawing out a pattern in vibrant colour on the ground.

"See? One, two, three, one, two, three. Rinse and repeat," he grinned.

I couldn't help but smile back a little, even whilst I felt so inelegant. How I wished that I magically knew all of this, like in the dream, but at least that meant I was currently awake.

"Of course, all this repetition is so boring," he announced suddenly, rapidly putting me into a spin and a dip.

I was afraid for a moment that I was about to fall onto my back and drag him with me, but he caught me. Before, I could say or do anything further, he drew me into a passionate kiss. My concerns melted away in the fire, the moment his lips met my own.

When he broke away and pulled me back upright, I had to catch my breath. Ever since i'd come round from the toxin, I felt exhausted. Going at it like bunny rabbits all night had not helped, and my body ached all over.

"Let's go back. You need to rest," He said firmly, noticing my shift in demeanour.

Link to the masterlist for other chapters:

Tag list:

If I forgot anyone or you want to be removed from the tag list - please let me know! 💕

@dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd

@dance-like-a-clown

@furisodespirit

@heath-ledger-jokers-wife

@sunfyrejoker

@lightsabergirl

@clowning--around

@ruby-da-archangel

@harleenqvinn

@helchronicles

@ostricx

@knoepfl

@jumpingjellyfishhaha

@nicklet94

@torossosebs

@all-bi-myselfs-blog

Dividers by @strangergraphics ✨️

[sunfyrejoker]

Old Scars (Part 16)

Ledger!joker x reader

❤️❤️❤️Happy Valentine's Day!❤️❤️❤️

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, violence, mentions of minor characters (not J) being misogynist/threatening SA, reference to past traumatic injury. This chapter gets pretty NSFW actually, whilst still being somewhat euphemistic in the descriptions. Beyond this i'm not sure, i'll update these when I write more.

Chapter 16 - (nsfw minors DNI)

I must have fallen asleep again. When I next stirred, I became aware of the fact I wasn't alone. I realised I must have drifted back to sleep still clinging to him and he hadn't moved. His messy hair had drifted onto his distinctive features, and one arm was lazily draped across my torso. He looked funny in such a twisted position - It couldn't be comfortable and his other arm had probably long since died being trapped underneath me.

It began to dawn on me that he was likely asleep, rhythmic breaths tickled my shoulder. Shifting from my position I peeled his arm from beneath me. With a sigh he stirred, eyes flickering open.

"You know (Y/N) you snore like a freight train".

"No I don't!" I snapped defensively.

"It's true, a real nine on the Richter scale," he said with a slight shrug.

"Are you sure you weren't hearing yourself?" I countered.

"Me?! I've never snored a day in my life," he said, in a sickly-sweet innocent tone.

I rolled out of bed and onto my feet.

"Subtlety never was your forté was it? I know you're trying to goad me into a fight. If you're going to be like that, i'm going to take a shower."

"Don't forget your chair!" He mocked.

"So funny," I said, my words dripping with sarcastic contempt.

I gathered my clothes and snatched the towel from him, which he initially refused to let go of forcing me into a brief tug-of-war.

Once I tore it from his grasp, I stormed out of the room towards the bathroom.

He followed after me.

"What are you doing?"

"You're still getting dizzy spells and you want to shower on your own?"

"You are absolutely not going to shower with me," I uttered in disbelief.

He grinned.

"Okay, have it your way, but i'll be waiting outside the door."

"Whatever," I muttered, closing the door on him but not locking it.

I hung my clothes up on the hooks by the door and turned on the water to let it warm up a tiny bit before I got in. For a good moment I stood letting the water cascade over my shoulders. By the time I had moved onto my hair, and was rinsing it out, I felt so much better.

When I was satisfied that I was clean and the shampoo was fully washed out of my hair, I turned off the water and reached for my towel. I was midway through stepping out of the tub when my foot slipped on the tiles. I made a grab for the curtain as I fell, tearing it down and knocking the bottles of shampoo to the floor with me as I went. My shin bounced off the rim of the tub and I yelped in surprise and pain.

Although I knew it was not literally possible, it felt as though I hadn't even hit the floor before J tore open the door and barged into the room. I didn't even have a chance to process what was happening before he'd lifted me up from the floor and sat me down on the edge of the bath. The pain was now radiating from what would surely bloom into a noticeable bruise later. He crouched down onto his knees so that he was on my level.

"Did you get dizzy? Look at me," he urged, rapidly patting his hand against my cheek and searching my eyes.

I shrugged his hand away and made a grab for my leg; that was the only thing I could think about now the shock was waning. As I gradually regained the power of speech, I found myself beginning to giggle.

"I, I'm fine. It wasn't the toxin hangover. I just slipped and fell," I managed between spurts of laughter at my own stupidity.

He pulled us up to our feet and held me by my arms.

"And you can stand on it?" He asked.

I frowned with concentration as I tested that theory. It seemed fine.

"Just bruised. Nothing too serious."

"Alright," he said, as though he intended to turn and leave me to it, only he stayed stuck to the spot.

Finally my brain regained enough power for the realisation to dawn on me that I was standing in front of him completely naked. I gasped, and involuntarily moved to grab the towel but it was behind him and he refused to budge. He was looking at me with a kind of satisfied smirk as I dripped water all over the place. In contrast, here he was in his dress pants and shirt. Even with his suspenders hanging lose either side of his waist, and no tie, the formality of his dress somehow made everything that much worse. I continued to try and grab for the towel, trying to squeeze past him.

As I did, he yanked my body close to his, so that there was barely an inch of separation. My heart fluttered into my throat in anticipation of his next move.

"Let me get the towel," I pleaded.

"Hm, I dunno doll, I'm enjoying the view," he purred leaning in agonisingly close to me.

I touched a wet hand to his painted cheek and a breathy sigh escaped his red lips. I put aside my self-consciousness, drawn in by him instead. He looped his hands around my waist and pulled me against his body. The fabric felt jarringly strange against my naked limbs. When my eyes met his, I could see the familiar flames burning there. It was dangerous, but I wanted to bask in their warmth and suddenly, like Prometheus stealing fire from the Gods, I was overcome with the desire to hold that power. I needed the light, and the warmth, no matter the cost.

The instant that I crossed the threshold and touched my lips to his, he crashed his body forcefully into my own. I felt his hands on me in frenzied caresses. It was as though he had wanted me for a long time, and could barely contain himself.

I found myself spinning out of control with the same level of crazed passion. The constant tension between us, which had been building and building, snapped like a spring bent to breaking point. I kissed him with total disregard for sanity; I didn't care what was right, what was sensible. All I knew was that I wanted him. I wanted him with such intensity that it was almost unbearable. I was at the total mercy of my desire.

He lifted me up onto the countertop, and we sent bottles of various sizes clattering onto the floor and into the wash basin. I wrapped my legs around him and threaded my hands into his hair, his curls twisting around my fingers. He forcefully pushed me further up against the mirror cabinet with a growl and continued to explore my mouth with his tongue. The glass was ice cold against the skin of my back as I returned the favour.

He withdrew and our mouths disconnected, eliciting an involuntary whine of disappointment from me, but this was quickly replaced by sounds of a different kind as he began to kiss and bite my neck, leaving a trail of smudged paint against my skin. My breath hitched in my throat and my back arched involuntarily as I felt his hot breath in my ear. He let out another low kind of growl at this which had me losing any semblance of composure I still had.

His strong hands were around my waist, pulling me closer to his body - a body I desperately wanted to see. I began to undo the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers and he shrugged out of it, letting it fall to the floor. His frame was deceptively slender but with a natural muscularity. I let my hands freely explore his now exposed shoulder and bicep muscles and felt that his skin was peppered with the remnants of various old wounds, including the most recent which had been stitched up by the vetrinarian. At first when my fingers brushed against the rough stitches, I was startled by the unexpected sensation. I paused for a moment, worried that touching it had caused him pain, but he either didn't seem to notice, or didn't care, as he roughly grabbed my arm to reel me back in.

Feverishly, I placed bites and kisses of my own against his warm neck, my naked flesh against his. Each touch of my lips seemed to elicit a breathless groan from him while I pressed my body harder against him. Still, it wasn't close enough. I almost wished that I could prise apart and climb inside his ribcage; I wanted to possess his very being. Every sinew, every cell, every drop of blood. I wanted us to knot into one being. An unholy communion.

He threaded a hand into my still wet hair from the back of my neck, while his other one ran down my exposed torso, aided by the water in droplets which rolled towards my navel. Meanwhile, my hands found their way from the small of his back up to his shoulder blades again, being careful this time not to touch his stitches. I could feel his muscles flex and move against me as his hand began to slide lower and lower and I struggled to keep ahold of myself. As he reached his target, a soft cry escaped my throat.

"We've barely even started. I bet I could make you scream for me," he teased, a dangerous electricity to his gravelly words, as I wondered if he meant in pleasure or in pain.

I was so caught up in the storm of his affection that I wasn't sure I cared which he meant: He was intoxicating in the worst way; a poison I would gladly drink. My body shuddered under his Midas touch. He was already edging me closer and closer, his hand providing just the right movements and pressure. Again my back began to arch and I struggled to stifle another moan. Noticing this change in body language, he moved to kiss me again, his tongue brushing against mine as he kept the pace below.

"Let go for me", he commanded.

I dragged my nails into the skin above his shoulder blades and my eyes fluttered closed.

"Set yourself free. Die for me," he whispered, hot breath in my ear and his free hand squeezing at my throat.

This was enough to tip me over the edge and I came undone completely in his grasp.

As he released my neck the ensuing rush of blood to my head was overwhelming and I was overcome with a sense of total ecstacy. I felt like I was falling, but without fear.

He brought his lips back to my neck, kissing his way up to my cheek and playfully biting my earlobe as I slowly came back down to earth.

"If i'd have known getting you to do that would be so easy, I would've done it ages ago..." he said slyly.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" I teased when he didn't immediately follow me.

My eyes narrowed at his mocking tone: two could play that game. 'He doesn't know what he's getting into,' I thought with a knowing smirk. I hopped down from the countertop and pushed past him into the hall as he looked on incredulously. I walked straight into the bedroom.

Tag list:

If I forgot anyone or you want to be removed from the tag list - please let me know! 💕

@dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd

@dance-like-a-clown

@furisodespirit

@heath-ledger-jokers-wife

@sunfyrejoker

@lightsabergirl

@clowning--around

@ruby-da-archangel

@harleenqvinn

@helchronicles

@ostricx

@knoepfl

@jumpingjellyfishhaha

@nicklet94

@torossosebs

@all-bi-myselfs-blog

Link to the masterlist for other chapters:

[sunfyrejoker]

all this "they won't last" stuff already has me feeling emotional and making up sad scenarios in my head ૮₍˶ ╥ ‸ ╥ ⑅₎ა

Old Scars (Part 15)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, violence, mentions of minor characters (not J) being misogynist/threatening SA, reference to past traumatic injury. This chapter's pretty soft actually, no violence for once 😂 Beyond this i'm not sure, i'll update these when I write more.

Chapter 15 -

The next thing I was aware of was somebody else entering the room, though some time later. Their footsteps rounded the bed to the side I was curled up on and the sudden intrusion of the sound woke me up with a jolt. I looked up to see the familiar tall figure of a man in dress pants and a dishevelled shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He looked recently showered; his hair was still wet and his bare face still had some traces of shaving foam on it. He clumsily replaced the errant strap of his suspenders as they slid off of his shoulder and crouched down beside me. As I realised who he was, I struggled to untangle the knotted threads of reality and the dream.

"Hello there," he said, with a voice like dry leaves on asphalt.

"I saw you," I murmured shakily.

He sat down beside me on the bed with a hum which suggested he was intrigued.

"And you were afraid."

I pulled myself upright so that I was seated with my legs crossed, and much to my alarm quickly realised how few clothes I was wearing. I hurriedly clutched the bedsheets to me, feeling very exposed but trying (and failing) to play it off like I wasn't. Oh god, there was no way the pair of them hadn't already seen too much.

"Afraid of you? A little, yes, but everything in that place was terrifying. You were just part of the landscape," I said as nonchalantly as I could.

He seemed a little surprised by my candid answer and highly amused by my attempt to preserve some kind of modesty. He handed me a cold glass of water with a tablet fizzing away inside it.

"Drink that."

"What is it?"

"Just drink it."

I sighed, for once not having the energy to argue and began to sip it quickly, not liking the taste. When it was half empty, I put it on the bedside dresser. He stayed sat beside me, fingers pressed together into a steeple as he seemed to drift somewhere far away in his mind. I watched the muscles and tendons of his forearms flex as his fingers moved in repetetive shapes.

"Penny for your thoughts?" I asked in my hoarse voice, recalling that he had used this particular turn of phrase on me before.

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards in the faintest hint of a smile, recognition of how i'd passed his own words back to him. He didn't share, of course. He never liked to show his hand, no matter what game we were playing.

"What happened to me?" I asked instead.

"You don't remember your little, uh, scuffle with the Russian?"

"Don't be difficult, you know what I mean. What did he stick me with?" I grumbled.

He turned to look me up and down, measuring the depth of my frustration and finding it to be fairly shallow.

"A kind of fear toxin, courtesy of disgraced Arkham psychiatrist Jonathan Crane. I hear it's causing all sorts of trouble in the Narrows since the dealers got hold of it."

"Why would that ever be sold as a recreational drug?" I scoffed in disbelief.

"To be fair," he said, flicking his tongue against his lower lip, "I think it's deliberately mis-sold."

"False advertising," I echoed as I wondered if he'd always had such an unusual tic, or if he'd developed it over time. I still found it unnerving.

"Yes. Maybe he wants to hold people to ransom and grind out a little profit selling the antidote," J added.

"You think that's Crane's M.O.?" I asked.

His tongue clicked against his teeth as he let out a kind of exasperated sigh.

"How should I know? He's crazy."

I failed to stifle a grin at the irony of such a dismissal coming from him, of all people.

"What's so amusing to you?" He asked, his voice slithering back into a slightly more sinister register.

His face took on a serious expression and he flexed his jaw. I realised I might be treading dangerous ground.

"I just find it a little hypocritical. I bet people call you crazy too," I answered earnestly, not wanting his unpredicatable moods to mold my own behaviour.

"I'm not crazy. I'm not," he muttered, though whether he was talking to himself or me was unclear.

"I didn't say you were -".

"Ah but you were thinking it. You were about to," he pointed a finger in my direction as his eyes narrowed.

"I only meant that people would say it, I've no idea whether you actually are. Besides, I wouldn't know what counts as crazy anymore, not after that bad trip," I muttered with a roll of my eyes.

He seemed to ease off a little.

"So how long was I out?" I changed track.

He paused, like he was at an intersection deciding whether to follow me down this new road in conversation, eventually he did.

"A couple of days. We got the antitoxin in you within three hours but you had a highly concentrated dose."

I thought about what the whole syringe might have done to me. Vladislav had clearly meant to kill me, or drive me permanently out of my mind. I shuddered just as Tony reappeared with a bundle of clothes in hand and my duffle bag.

"Here, I washed these for you."

There was something so unexpected about this enormous, fierce man, handing me my clothes like a mother getting a child ready for school. He set down the bag and clothes on the unoccupied side of the bed

"You can go now, I'll call when I need you. You know the drill by now," J said, tossing him a set of jangling keys.

I wondered how long Tony had been away from his family, and tried to remember what having people waiting at home for you felt like. I heard his footsteps fade, a door open and close, and finally, the rumble of a car engine as it pulled away. In his absence, the silence that fell over us was deafening.

"What happened to them?" I finally asked in my desperation to end the quiet.

"Are you sure you'd like to know that?" J asked, his tone dancing between seriousness and playfulness.

"Nicky shot Trigger, and you shot Nicky, but what happened to Vlad?"

Even without the paint, I watched a growing darkness twist the features of the man beside me. I hurriedly turned my eyes away from his face, instead settling on the peeling yellow wall paper in the corner of the room.

"I wasn't sure what to do with him at first. I considered killing him, but he just seemed to go deeper and deeper into madness. It was fascinating to watch."

Unable to stop myself, I turned back towards him, and watched the growing fire in his eyes as he spoke; he was becoming increasingly animated with each word.

"Tony dropped him downtown. Most likely he'll be picked up and carted off to Arkham. His fate is an excellent warning against any of the other men who might be tempted back into Maroni's deep pockets."

"He's stuck in a living nightmare. Yeah, I'd heed that warning," I said dryly.

"Exactly! This is so much better than just shooting him and dumping him in the harbour: the mob are desensetised to that. It's basically a regular tuesday for them, but this? No, no, this is much more of a powerful threat..."

His piercing gaze met my own.

"Still, I suppose you disapprove..." he said with a smirk.

"Are you kidding me? He tried to kill me and nearly had me stuck in some kind of endless hell."

I laughed a little at the idea I was going to be reproachful and I had his intensely undivided attention as I continued:

"It's satisfying to know that he's stuck like that. He set those wheels in motion. Let him suffer like I did."

He made a kind of sound under his breath, like he was pleased with my outburst and I moved to drink the rest of the water, still clutching the blankets to my chest. I still felt like I was nursing the worst hangover of my entire life, like I'd suffered an electric shock. One time I had forgot to unplug the toaster when I was cleaning it with a damp cloth and it felt like someone tied a housebrick with a string connected to each of my fingers and thrown it off of a cliff. The way all of my muscles had snapped taught and suddenly cramped - it was one of the worst pains I had ever experienced. This felt like that but all over, somehow worse. I grasped a tshirt from the fresh pile, and looked pointedly at him.

When he didn't move, I was forced to use words.

"Turn around already," I grumbled.

Both his eyebrows pulled up into a knowing look as he laughed.

"I hate to break it to you doll, but you tore off your clothes whilst screaming like a banshee yesterday evening. It might be a little late for that."

I felt my cheeks flush red as I felt the sting of embarasment. I groaned and laid my head back down against the cool pillow.

The next time I woke up, J was sat on the empty side of the bed, his long legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankle and he was holding out a plate. His face paint had reappeared by now and he wordlessly gestured for me to take the food he'd brought. I sluggishly propped myself up enough to take one, and instead he forcibly shoved the plate into my hands.

"You need to eat these," he said sternly.

Wordlessly, I methodically worked my way through them as he watched me intently. They had a layer of peanut butter and jelly haphazardly slapped on top of them, I assumed for the purpose of giving me some sugar intake.

"It's a good thing i'm not allergic, huh? Did you think of that?" I jabbed an elbow into his ribs playfully, somehow forgetting the many reasons not to do that kind of thing.

He looked baffled, which made me laugh a little.

"What's so funny?" He said sounding almost hurt.

"Your face; you just looked so confused."

"People don't tend to touch me," he muttered, rattling over the t sounds..

"Yeah people will give you a wide berth if you go around blowing up half the city. Who'd have guessed?" I rolled my eyes.

Suddenly, he produced something from his pocket. It was a brilliant red apple, almost as vibrant as his painted smile. He rubbed it against his waistcoat as though he was polishing it. I watched him quizically as he took a bite and then tossed it into my lap. He had a maddening habit of chewing without properly closing his mouth which immediately made my skin crawl.

"What?" He asked, spotting my change in body language.

I gently put my hand over his mouth.

"Don't you have any manners?" I said as playfully as I could manage.

His eyes locked with my own and he slowly pulled my hand down.

"Define manners... I find that most of them are a waste of time. An unwritten social contract we're all just dragged into."

"Yes, but -" I tried to argue. He cut me off.

"Do you know, what happens if you get lacerations from here, to here? He asked, following the red line of paint which almost went from ear to ear.

"No," I answered, anxiety rising in my chest.

"Well, about here, is something called the parotid duct. It's basically the tube that carries your saliva, from where it is produced further back, into your mouth. If that gets cut, a surgeon will have to try reconstructing it. Even if they are successful, you'll probably have issues with it for life."

He gestured to a point on his cheek about two thirds of the way from his mouth to his ear, right at the top of his longer scar. Instantly, I realised what an asshat I had been and felt a burning shame spreading throughout my body.

"Not to mention, there's all kinds of nerves in here..." he pressed further, tracing the forked outline of some of them against my cheek with a finger.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't think -"

He waved a hand to shut me up, but I ignored him.

"No, I am. That was me being a prick. I of all people should have thought about that."

He placed a finger to my lips in a shushing motion and my words finally came to a halt.

"Don't waste your time, doll. I don't care. Not about manners and not about what you just said." He said, nodding his head affirmatively in a frantic way.

I was sure that I felt a rogue tear slip out and roll down my cheek, despite my attempts to suppress the overwhelming feeling of regret that was welling up inside me. How had I missed the obvious and said something so careless, like so many people had done to me? Before I could wipe it away, he spotted it and pulled his body closer to mine. He cupped my face in his hands with a look of childlike fascination in his features.

"What's this, a tear? For me?" He mused.

I tried to turn my head away, but he tightened his grip in resistance against me. I was then suddenly afraid of what he would do next. He swept the tear away with his thumb and released me from his grasp. Not knowing what had taken over me, I folded my arms around his waist and I laid back down.

He remained sat with his back to the headboard, and surprisingly didn't try to remove my clinging grasp on him as he stayed uncharacteristically still. I felt him rest a hand against the side of my face. Normally I would have recoiled even at the idea of anyone touching my broken skin, but there was something about his touch that felt like it was white hot and purifying. It was the opposite to the feeling of disgust and corruption that my attacker in the alley had left lingering on me.

"Sometimes, when its about to rain, espescially if theres a storm coming, it feels like the plate in my head starts to vibrate."

"So they turned you into a human barometer? That's unfortunate..."

"I mean it's a pretty shit power, it fucking hurts, but I can tell you if it's about to rain really heavily," I smiled weakly.

I felt his hand smooth the hair over the location of my titanium plate.

"You know, I applied for a specialist plastic surgeon to help me heal better," I began, seeing an opportunity for a little dark humour; "to stop me looking like I lost a fight to someone wielding a cheese grater..."

I felt him chuckle at my ridiculous image which was at odds with the emotional weight of what I was sharing.

"but my insurance provider denied me everything except the most basic stitch-up and a permanent plate."

He gave a hum which indicated he was listening intently.

"I can't help thinking maybe I wouldn't have a lifetime of headaches if they hadn't put the cheapest thing possible in there. And, of course, the scars could have been much less noticeable," I sighed, running my hand over the valleys and ridges travelling down from my temple.

"The whole system - It's a bad joke," he muttered.

I nodded with a sigh.

"But it will never change. It's so utterly depressing. I hate it."

"We live in a cruel world, it's true."

I felt his fingers clumsily tracing over my face again.

"Are you wondering how it happened?" I whispered.

"No. The past is the past. When you live in the world we do, the only way to stay sane is to live only in the present."

A smile crept its way onto my face.

"If you'd asked, I would've lied to you any way. Even to you, I wouldn't give that away," I admitted, looking up at his face.

He seemed struck by this, looking down at me with a renewed kind of fascination.

"What?"

"Nothing," he answered, patting me on the head.

Unlike him, my thoughts drifted to the future. Whatever this was could not end well: It couldn't last. Reality was always chasing me down.

"Lie to me," I said suddenly.

"What?"

"Tell me we have a future, that there's hope. That whatever this is between us, it will all be okay."

"Doll, you know that's really not -" he began with a sigh and shifted within my grasp.

"It doesn't have to be convincing. I just need to hear the words."

He was silent for a while, as I waited to see if he would do what I'd asked. He sighed and grumbled under his breath as he turned closer to me.

"We can leave all of this behind us. We'll run off into the sunset and live happily ever after. No more batman, no more Gotham city, no more police. I'll take you to the mountains - or are you the sort of girl who prefers the ocean? We can do both, all that greenery, and you can swim in the water."

It didn't matter that I knew the words were empty, or that he himself sounded utterly unconvinced. I picked up the apple, which had already started to brown where the missing piece was, and ate some of it myself. It was surprisingly sweet and crisp. I let my eyes drift closed and fashioned myself a strange sort of Eden in my imagination. I found myself falling back into the dance we had been locked in when I was under Crane's toxin. I was so tired.

I had nearly died a second time, and like the first, it had changed me in ways I didn't yet know...

Link to the masterlist for other chapters:

Tag list:

If I forgot anyone or you want to be removed from the tag list - please let me know! 💕

@dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd

@dance-like-a-clown

@furisodespirit

@heath-ledger-jokers-wife

@sunfyrejoker

@lightsabergirl

@clowning--around

@ruby-da-archangel

@harleenqvinn

@helchronicles

@ostricx

@knoepfl

@jumpingjellyfishhaha

@nicklet94

Dividers by @strangergraphics ✨️

[sunfyrejoker]

Old Scars (Part 14)

Ledger!joker x reader

Fem!reader is kidnapped by the joker and his henchmen while just trying to get a moment's reprieve from her boring, soul-destroying job ✨️

Tw: I mean, we all saw TDK, right? I'd say this is on the same level/rating. Kidnapping, violence, mentions of minor characters (not J) being misogynist/threatening SA, reference to past traumatic injury. This chapter continues the themes of being under the influence of a drug, with nightmarish hallucinations. Beyond this i'm not sure, i'll update these when I write more.

Part 14 -

I couldn't tell whether I was stuck in the grips of whatever Vladislav had dosed me with for hours, days, or weeks even. Time ceased to exist entirely in whatever dark place my brain had slipped down into. I was stuck in a purgatory of living nightmares, gripped by insanity, at the mercy of horrific hallucinations.

In the first moment of clarity I had, like the briefest spot of sun breaking through the thick clouds of a battering storm, I became faintly aware of my surroundings. I was laid out on a double bed in a white room.

I watched the peeling paint in one corner as it seem to pulsate and move. My blood was thumping in my ears, my throat dry as sandpaper, and the thin bars of light poking through the half shuttered blinds were unbearable. I groaned and drew up my arms and legs, rolling up like a little pilbug.

This glimpse of reality was short lived because the substance wasn't done tormenting me yet. I was burning up. Sweat beading from every pore, my skin felt raw and I thought that it was blistering. I frantically stripped off any clothing I had on, the fabric feeling like needles against my flesh. In this, the first of many subsequent after shocks, I began to see terrible things again.

All manner of abstract horrors flickered to life in my poisoned brain as I screamed and begged for help until my voice gave out. Occasionally, I thought I could make out voices nearby, or less often, in the room with me. Once of twice, I thought someone, or something, was stood over me but If I tried to make out their figure, it was like trying to look for a person in swirling mist - my brain kept latching onto shapes, and then they would move and I'd lose them again.

I thought that I was stood on one of the wide streets in the centre of the city, probably in the financial district. I shuddered at the sight of the glistening chrome skyscrapers towering over me, like knives stabbing into the sky. The air was thick with smoke and the sidewalks and road eerily empty. Devoid of life. Where were the finance workers in their suits and ties dashing around? Time is money so they always rushed between offices. Where were the cops on patrol, the city officials in sleek cars? Where were the taxis ferrying the regular folk: the cashiers, the bank tellers, the office workers, like myself? It was like finding an empty ant farm. What was the point of the structure if there was nothing living inside?

I felt my chest tighten up. Why was no one here? What had happened? I began to walk forwards into the fog, desperate to find some sign of life. Eventually I broke into a jog, one unsteady foot after the other, beating against the grey asphalt of the road. Rapidly twilight came and went and the heavy cloak of nightfall dropped over the city. The road seemed to never end or change. Just as I was about about to give up in utter despair, I hit a crossroads.

I saw a looming firetruck abandoned in the centre of the junction. Brilliant orange flames were licking their way along the bright red paint, reducing it to a burnt out shell. The windows were shattered and the tyres slashed. Still no people, alive or dead. Not knowing what else to do, I kept running along the main avenue. Finally the shapes of some cars emerged from the shroud of the smoke and fog. They too were abandoned, little more than burnt out husks.

Suddenly, I thought I heard the briefest whisper of a voice on the wind. I whirled around, this way and that, trying to seek it out.

"(Y/n)"

Something, or someone was calling to me.

"Where is it taking you now?" It came again from behind me this time.

I circled round, desperate to find the source. The voice was low, and oddly familiar. I couldn't place it. My brain felt like it had short circuited and all the connections were fried.

"What do you see?"

This time it sounded much closer, from the right and clear enough that the man speaking could have been right next to me. I whipped in the direction of the voice. There he stood, so close that I almost jumped out of my own skin. I stumbled and fell backwards on my ass in the road.

He stepped forward, his vibrant purple coat, even faded as it was, a dazzling contrast to the grey world around me. I looked up in silent fear at his face, covered in white paint with black circles around his dark eyes. There was the splashed curve of a blood red smile extending beyond the bounds of his lips, and his hair was a tangled mess of green-tinted curls hanging forward as he leaned over me with hunched shoulders.

I shrank back in his shadow, fear running through me, and struggled under his piercing gaze. I was silent, too afraid and confused to speak.

"What do you see?" He asked again.

"I - I see you," I stammered out in confusion, struggling to sit upright.

"Me?" Came his reply, and he looked equally confused.

The smoke was thinning out around us now, and the ghostly shapes of the city began to reappear with greater clarity as I slowly hauled myself up and back to my feet. My whole body ached in protest, even my bones felt like they were sore.

"Where... where am I?" I asked the strange man before me.

"Well, that depends?"

"What do you mean?"

I screwed up my face in confusion and rubbed my sore head.

"It depends. On the one hand you're here with me," he threw out his arms and spun around gesturing at the empty streets.

"And, on the other?"

He abruptly stopped spinning, his coat swaying around him and revealing a flash of beautiful orange silk lining, like dancing flames.

"On the other, you're supposed to be somewhere else."

I frowned.

"Where else am I supposed to be?"

"Beats me!" He erupted into laughter.

"Is she still out of it?" A new voice echoed around me.

Again it belonged to a man, and he spoke with a thick accent but it was still just the two of us standing in the empty street, now so clear that I could see right the way along upper fifth.

"She's sometimes responding to me now."

"So the the treatment is working?"

"Well yeah, but she's still gonna be a bit loopy until all of it leaves her system for good."

My head felt like it was full of thick sludge as I staggered forwards, past the strange man in the long purple coat. Nothing made sense. Something was wrong. What had he said?

'You're supposed to be somewhere else.

I decided to veer left, since going forwards didn't seem to actually cover any ground. I found myself in one of the compartments of a large revolving door to one of the skyscrapers. Turning around, I saw that the man had somehow appeared opposite me. He gave me an enthusiastic wave, much to my horror. I had to get away, something was deeply unsettling about him and now he was following me.

I turned and ran full tilt for a line of elevators, aggressively smashing my fingers against the call buttons and frantically looking over my shoulder. One of them finally arrived and I bolted inside, again smashing the buttons of the control panel desperately trying to get the doors to close. From my position, I could now see him again as he walked towards me - there was something all the more sinister about his leisurely pace. It was as though he was a big cat, stalking it's prey in the long grass.

The doors began to draw closed and I pressed the button for the top floor, feeling a swell of relief as the elevator began to shift upwards. I watched as the light on the control panel flickered through each of the markers for the forty-six floors. It seemed to take forever, and I was shocked when the destinstion arrived.

I gingerly stepped out into a large open-plan space. There was glass everywhere, and I felt like I was in a fish tank. I wandered by some partitioned executive offices, and paused for a moment as I saw that one had a beat up old tv set in it. It was so at odds with the surroundings that I felt compelled to look closer and approached. It was switched on and something was playing. I fiddled with the aerials on the top until the static dissipated and the picture clarified.

Much to my surprise, the film was one I thought I might have seen before... but I was struggling to recall what it was. I could see a man and a woman climbing the stairs of a tower. The scene was fraught, and they seemed to be arguing, or he seemed to be confronting her. The building violins in the soundtrack were spiralling higher and higher. I turned away from it: I had to keep going. I had to keep moving, even if I didn't know why.

Next, I came across an outdoor terrace which I rushed out to. The cold night air greeted me as I pushed open the door and a breeze blew past me back into the building, scattering loose papers in stacks on the desks. There were multiple empty tables and chairs lined up in neat rows. I wondered if some of the workers would drink coffee and talk about important meetings up here. I noticed one table was laid out, but not with what I'd expected to see. Instead it was littered with empty beer bottles and a deck of cards, like the vanished people had been interrupted mid-game. As I moved closer the wind picked up the cards and scattered them in every direction.

I reached out to grab the nearest one as it fluttered by. They were bigger than I'd have expected a standard pack of cards to be, and I soon realised why: they were tarot cards. I turned over the one I'd fished out of the clutches of the wind.

On it was a picture of a crumbling tower, struck by lightning, and two people falling from the top. The windows were bursting with flames and the storm clouds raging behind it. I felt a pang of dread at such an obvious bad omen.

The wind was rapidly picking up and I decided that I would have to head back indoors. I had wanted to look out over the city, hoping it might reveal some clue as to where everyone had gone, but I was terrified of being so very high up. As I turned to reatreat, there was an almighty boom, and the walkway beneath my feet shook so violently that I was thrown off balance. I knew immediately that something was deeply wrong.

There was a crescendo of shattering glass, and a horrible grinding, scraping sound. The whole building seemed to shudder beneath me. At a loss for what else to do, I picked myself up and ran back inside. As I fled in a total panic around a blind corner, I collided with something and went crashing to the ground.

"Hey, watch it!" Yelled out a man from the ground beside me.

I floundered around in confusion as he picked himself up and gathered the things I had knocked out of his hands.

"What the fuck is your problem?" He huffed, hurrying off.

I ran back to the elevator and waited anxiously for the next one to open. As the doors slid back I was again shocked as no less than fifteen people hurried out and chastised me for not waiting my turn. On the one hand, it should have been a huge relief to have people back, but on the other it only drove me to further madness in my desperate attempts to make sense of the whole situation.

As the elevator reached the fifth floor it stopped. The doors parted to reveal the strange man I had run away from earlier. I jumped back in horror and pressed myself back into the corner of the lift as he stepped in. He looked at me with an air of superiority and disinterest as I cowered in the corner. We continued to travel down to street level and a sharp ding indicated our arrival.

The opening doors revealed a scene of complete carnage unfolding - it looked as though a bomb had gone off in the lobby, all the glass was broken, things were on fire, people were running around screaming as the air was filled with acrid smoke. The man with the painted face strolled out into the middle of it all, entirely unfazed as I trailed after him in disbelief.

Out in the street, the usual bustle of city life had returned as though it was never gone and I stood beside the road watching as people and cars jostled for space. The air filled with the sound of police sirens as cop cars screeched to a halt outside the building and officers ran up the steps.

Just as I was looking down fifth avenue towards the mayor's offices at the end, several more explosions rocked the ground beneath my feet. Multiple buildings were hit. Cars swerved, people screamed, and panic took hold. Everyone began to run. Everyone except the strange man I had followed and myself. The crowd moved around us like water in a stream as we stared at one another.

One of the frantic people broke off from the herd and collided with me. I moved to try and help her up from where she'd fallen but she slapped my hand back.

"What are you doing just standing there gawking. Get the fuck out of the way!" She yelled as she gathered up her briefcase and scrambled away.

Suddenly I found my hand was clasped in the purple gloved hand of the strange man with the painted face. He put me into the position for a waltz, posing my limbs like I was a marionette. Before I could protest, I was whirling around in a strange dance with him. It felt like I was bewitched, like my feet automatically moved and I had no choice but to obey. The only kind of dancing I was accustomed to was jumping around a crowded dancefloor, too many shots deep to form any coherent thoughts - and that was as a teenager: an increasingly distant memory. We had all paid off the bouncer to not question our obviously fake IDs, and misspent our youth drinking and dancing all night. I found myself wondering where any of those people were now; ten years was a long time...

We were spinning around at such a dizzying rate that the towering buildings around me started to blur as my body kept graceful timing. Abruptly, we came to a halt as he put me into a dip. It felt strange to be suspended, as if mid-fall, held there by his strong grip. I looked up at his face in silent confusion.

He pulled us both back to standing position and I withdrew my hand from its resting place on his shoulder. The city started to fade and bleed, like an ink drawing in the rain. All the bleak colours and the harsh lines blotted together. Everything around me began to re-materialse as something else, and before I knew it, I was standing on a bridge. The rain was coming down in fat, heavy droplets which soaked into my clothes and ran over my skin. The hands holding me in place released me and I looked back to see who had brought me to this place. My strange dance partner stood just out of my reach in the downpour. I stepped back from the barrier toward him.

The rain was so heavy it was washing the paint from his features, revealing piece by piece his nakedness - his real skin. He looked lost in thought, and I had to touch his arm before he would react to my presence. As soon as I did, he spoke.

"You need to wake up."

"But I am awake!" I protested in confusion.

"No, you're not," he muttered back darkly.

I didn't know what he meant. It was all too much.

"If you don't wake up, you might get stuck like this".

"I don't understand."

"You're dreaming, and you have to wake up," he pressed, grabbing onto me and shaking me violently by my shoulders, until it hurt.

"But..." I trailed off as I began to think it through.

It would explain the strange things which kept happening, the way time had seemed to stop, the unexplainable disappearance and reappearance of the city's inhabitants, and the sudden change of location.

"Okay, so how do I wake up?" I asked, but no one was there to answer: he was gone.

I was alone on the bridge. I sank down onto the wet ground in total despair. I don't know how long I sat there, dripping wet and miserable as the heavens continued to pour down over the city. I watched the occasional pairs of car headlights sweep by and listened to the crashing swell of the river somewhere far below.

Maybe what I needed was a shock. If the nightmarish visions had stopped, and I was stuck in this shallow imitation of the city indefinitely, then maybe I needed to do something to shock myself into waking up. I turned slowly towards the bridge's barrier.

Dread immediately sank its claws into my gut. Surely that wasn't the answer... but what if it was? Just the idea of jumping made me feel dizzy and sick. I paced back and forth as I weighed up my options. If nothing else here had inspired enough fear in me to wake me, then I'd have to do something more drastic, and this would certainly qualify. Forcing myself to act out a long-time fear might just be the only thing drastic enough to work.

Why start small? I knew it had to be this. The most fucked up part of me enjoyed the poetry of it too, as I gripped the barrier with trembling hands and willed myself to climb over it. Just the sight of the drop made me want to cry out in panic, to turn and run, but somehow I held fast.

I knew I couldn't do it facing oblivion, so I turned myself around. What was I doing? What if this was all just some mental break I was having? And, oh god, what if it was like the Matrix: where the dream was more pleasant than the reality? If that was the case, this dream world left a lot to be desired. I exhaled sharply, as though I was trying to physically expel my racing thoughts.

A part of me was telling me I had to do this, even if I didn't know why. The primal, most prehistoric part of me was screaming self-preservation, but something in my heart told me to ignore it. As I made my peace with the decision, I saw a dark figure on the opposite side of the bridge. He had emerged from the mist like an apparition, and said nothing as he met my gaze. It was the batman. I wasn't alarmed by his presence, and something about the way he was watching suggested a kind of understanding. He didn't move to stop me, or offer any resistance.

I let go of the bars and leant back as far as I could. My heart fluttered into my throat as I felt gravity come up to greet me and I passed the point of no return. I toppled down into the dark with a scream of terror at my imminent end. I prayed that it would be quick.

With a gasp like I had stopped breathing for several minutes, I coughed and spluttered as I lurched upright. My dry eyes snapped open and I suddenly felt the urge to vomit. I struggled to the end of the bed. Suddenly, a bucket was thrust under my bowed head just in time. My whole body ached. When I finally stopped being sick, I let myself fall back onto the mattress beneath me.

"Kurwa, I'm glad I put the bucket in here," muttered the looming figure to my left. As I looked at him I remembered who he was.

"Are you okay, you were screaming again?" He asked.

"Tony..." I thought aloud.

His eyes widened in excitement.

"You know who I am now, yes?"

"I - I think so," I muttered, rolling onto my side with a groan.

"I will go and tell the boss. He's been watching you a lot, but even he needs sleep sometimes," he said.

I barely had the strength to answer him.

"Okay," was all I managed as Tony left the room with the bucket in hand.

Silent tears of relief rolled down my cheeks as I realised it was over, and I was still breathing.

Link to the masterlist for other chapters:

Tag list:

@dis0rderly-cl0wn-nerd

@dance-like-a-clown

@furisodespirit

@heath-ledger-jokers-wife

@sunfyrejoker

@lightsabergirl

@clowning--around

@ruby-da-archangel

@harleenqvinn

@helchronicles

@ostricx

@jumpingjellyfishhaha

@knoepfl

@nicklet94

Dividers by @strangergraphics

[sunfyrejoker]

T h e  I n d o m i n u s  R e x