#'scuse the muse while she crawls in there

[ennabear]

⭑ SYMPATHY IS A KNIFE ⋆˚ ༘ *

ʕっ•ᴥ•ʔっ themes of jealousy, porn w/ plot, ellie is lowkey a bad gf (she makes up for it in the end i swear), hate sex w rockstar!ellie, dom!r, brat!ellie (heh, get it?), slapping + spanking, ruined orgasm, based on sympathy is a knife by charli xcx, somewhat projecting here because i’m an insecure overthinker oops, brat summer challenge entry for my oomfies, check out everyone else’s entries and consider joining the server!! fank yewwwwq!!! 18+

🍏 wc: 2.5k ++ divider creds

✮ don’t wanna see her backstage at my girlfriend’s show. ✮

the crowd was crushing you from all sides, a wave of sweaty, drunk strangers all packed tightly together. girls surrounding you were wearing short skirts and low-cut tops, all cheering for your girlfriend.

your girlfriend.

this was one of the cons of dating a rockstar, sure ellie made lots of money, sure you were her one and only muse, sure she only had eyes for you, didn’t she? but this enraged you, the way they all screamed at her like you weren’t even there. begging her to take her shirt off, play them a song, and especially the way she always followed their orders.

you sigh, turning around to squeeze to the back of the crowd, muttering a few ‘scuse me’s and ‘pardon’s. the smell of sweat and weed infects your lungs, causing you to cover your face with your elbow. stumbling over your feet, you finally land on a barstool, asking the bartender for a glass of ice water. ellie notices your absence, scanning the crowd for you, her gaze being met with thirsty glances all around.

the cool water soothes the rage boiling in your stomach ever so slightly. your heart is still pounding, hands shaking, feet tapping the floor. thoughts of self-hatred plague your mind at a million miles per hour, a wild voice that tears you completely apart…

“where the hell did you go?” ellie’s annoyed voice cuts through your mind. you jump.

“sorry,” you trail off. “i got too hot.”

“man… you should’ve seen the way those girls in the front row were screaming.” she beams, a glistening smile creeping up on her expression. “almost blew the fuckin’ roof off.”

you don’t respond to this, instead looking down into your drink and swirling the ice around with your straw. “you gonna come backstage?” she asks. “or sit here and pout.”

“i dunno, els. i’m kinda ti-” she cuts you off by pinching the apple of your cheek, grinning at you like you’re a trophy. a grammy, in her mind. “knew you’d say yes.”

another wave of rage crashes over you, a chill running down your spine. ellie’s tattooed hands grab your wrists, dragging you with her as if you’re a lost puppy. you don’t let it get to you though, letting it simmer as she drags you from the bar, and trying to ignore it once you slump onto the cracked leather couch.

maybe it’s just the sour mood you’re in, but the sudden change of environment makes your stomach churn. the paint chipping off of the walls makes your skin crawl, the lights surrounding the mirror are faded and yellow, the air in the room is stale and smells of body odor and piss. it’s uncomfortable all around.

ellie doesn’t notice this, of course. too lost in her own jabber about the show to pay any mind to you. a knock on the door halts your thoughts again. “ellie?” someone asks.

“yeah?” she calls back, throwing her shirt into her bag and lighting a cigarette.

“are ‘ya decent? i brought a few girls from the pit. they’re gonna kill me if you don’t open this door.”

your jaw falls open involuntarily. the audacity strikes you in your burning heart. the audacity. the audacity to shove other girls in ellie’s face while she barely even loves you.

once again, ellie pays no mind to this, swinging the door open and presenting her bare chest to the small group of girls peeking in from the hallway. your jaw clenches, you wish so badly she would say no for once. that she would forget about the fame and the money and take you on a god damn date.

in a moment of defeat, you cross your fingers behind your back. praying to some god, any god, that this moment ends soon. and with your luck, it doesn’t. you’re cramped in this small, crappy room, watching the love of your life converse with girls who are so much prettier than you.

and they’re so much prettier. they all have silky hair that cascades down their backs and and finishes with a little curl. expensive earrings and bracelets, full faces of completely untouched makeup, not even a single smudge or stain. shoes that cost more than your house, perfume that smells better than the bouquets of flowers ellie used to buy for you. you couldn’t even be them if you tried.

laughter breaks out between ellie and the girls. she nudges you in the side as a hint to start laughing along, but you bite your lip and look down, twiddling your thumbs in your lap. you can’t hear anything, so jealous you feel like you might faint.

ellie smiles and stands up, patting you on the knee as she does. you don’t follow, instead watching through blurred vision as she ushers the girls out of the door. tears fall from your eyes and you grimace, holding your head in your hands and starting to sob.

“do you wanna tell me what the fuck just happened?” she asks, eyebrows furrowing in anger. you don’t respond. you can’t. how are you supposed to tell her you’ve been spiraling because she’s been eye-fucking other girls? when she hasn’t even kissed you in days? and when was the last time she said i love you? why hasn’t she noticed?

“hello?” she shouts. “what the fuck is going on with you? why haven’t you been talking to me?”

“why haven’t i been talking to you? i don’t know, maybe because you’re too busy feeling up other girls in front of me?” you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. your eyeliner is streaming down your face, and suddenly your band tee and jeans feel improper.

“when’s the last time you’ve asked me about my day, ellie? i talk to you all the time. i help you write songs, i listen to you talk about your gigs, i clean your ass up when you come home drunk out of your mind.” you trail off, looking up at her to see a broken, almost confused look.

“you can’t at least pretend to appreciate the things i do for you?” she scowls, cornering you in the small dressing room. “you can’t even grit your teeth and fucking lie in front of my band? in front of my friends? i work my ass off providing for both of us and i don’t even get a thank you?”

“you don’t mean it…” you sob, absolutely sure that anyone outside of this room can hear the screaming match between you two. ellie scowls, your favorite green eyes are no longer soft and reassuring, but instead sharp. dangerous, almost.

“why do i have to share the space, ellie? did i do something wrong? did i-” you’re cut off by the door slamming shut. the mirror rattles behind you, shaking your reflection for a second.

what do you do now, sit here and cry? or will that only make it worse? a knock on the door soothes your racing heart. “you okay in there?” it was ellie’s assistant, the same guy who rounded up those girls earlier. “i- yeah?” your voice shakes as you answer. you go so cold.

he enters the room, sitting on the chair next to you. “we’re packing up the busses. you’d better hurry up before we leave you here.” how could you be mad at him? some sweet old guy who cares about you more than ellie does. you pinch the bridge of your nose, a headache starting to form. “i don’t know if i belong here anymore.”

the comfort isn’t much, but you’ll take what you can get right now. you let a few tears fall, tear ducts already exhausted and drained. “don’t cry, kiddo. you’re both still young, she’s just going through something right now.”

somehow, this makes it worse. your cheeks heat up, that same anger stirring in your veins. “cmon, let me walk you out before they forget us both.” he laughs, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you exit through the back of the building.

ellie is waiting for you in her bus, wearing an old beat up tank top and some sweats. she refuses to meet your eyes, her newly reformed ego letting her think that she’s too good to give an apology. you quickly change clothes, replacing your band tee with a sports bra and scrubbing off your smudged eyeliner.

she comes up behind you as you wash your face, completely ignoring you as she picks up a pair of scissors and starts snipping at her shaggy hair. the bathroom suddenly feels too small, like the walls are closing in on you. “so you’re still too good for an apology?” you ask.

“sorry.” she mumbles monotonously.

you turn and look at her. no, you glare at her. the attitude she’s had lately is almost jarring. here your once sweet, loving girlfriend stands. neglecting you for months, complaining to her friends about you, making you cry, embarrassing you in front of everyone she knows. this isn’t like her at all.

that rage boils up inside of you again. red-hot, vicious anger that scorches your insides and washes over you like a violent midnight hurricane. before you can even think, the palm of your hand is smacking her at lightning speed. her jaw falls open involuntary, eyes piercing into you.

that felt good. so, so good. you wiped that smug off of her face real quick. with your hand still raised, you grab her by the neck of her shirt— ripping a hole into the thin, flimsy fabric— and bend her over the sink.

“this’s how you wanna treat me, huh?” you laugh, out of exhaustion or relief, you aren’t sure. her pants slip off as soon as you tug them down, palming her bush beneath her boxers before you snag them off too.

“i- i’m…” she stammers. “i’m sorr-!!” you cut her off, pulling her back by the roots of her hair.

“i’ll show you how it fucking feels.” you punctuate this by sending your hand down to slap her ass, leaving a glowing red handprint on her pale skin. she grips the sink, whining loudly at the smack but deciding not to talk back, she might make it worse.

“that hurt?” you tease, rubbing over the area you hit. ellie bites her lip, not wanting to admit that it stung. she heaves a sigh, muttering a quick no.“no? not yet? guess we’ll have to go harder.” you smirk evilly. she gasps at this, but it’s too late. now she’s wincing at the slap, back arching into you as you palm at her ass.

“please!!” she begs. “i’m sorry! i’m so sorry!!” tears roll down her face, she looks just as pathetic as you did back in that dressing room. “what would those other girls think if they saw you like this right now?”

she doesn’t answer, instead her cheeks turn a bright beet red. one of your hands lifts her head up by her hair, angling her face to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror. she can’t help but gawk at her expression, tears rolling down her face, lips pink and sore from being chewed on.

“one more? or are you gonna apologize now.” her lips pull back into a grimace at the thought of getting another smack from one of your heavy hands.

“i’m sorry.” she admits shyly. “i’ve been an asshole. i’m sorry and i mean it.” you slide two fingers into her dripping hole as she spews out her apology. she groans, gripping onto your wrist that just released itself from her scalp.

the pleasure soon overtakes the pain, and the stinging of her ass goes almost numb as your fingers reach deeper than ever. her lips quiver as she tries to hold back her moans, cunt practically sucking your fingers in.

her eyes roll back into her head as you pound into her, slick dripping down your fingers and wrist. she looks pathetic like this. now her own makeup is smudged and runny, she’s the one begging for forgiveness. “ohh, god, please!! right there.” she sputters, eyebrows furrowing as she gets closer and closer to finishing.

it doesn’t take much to please her, with two fingers massaging her g-spot and your teeth in her neck, she’s about to cum her brains out. she doesn’t, though. as soon as you notice the telltale twitch of her thighs, you pull your fingers out. she groans at the loss, cunt squeezing and clenching, desperately trying to get off without you.

“is that how you like it now? being neglected and completely left in the dark?” her head shakes, she wants to scream at you for ruining this for her, but she knows deep down that she deserves it. “keep going, please. i swear i’ll be so good. isweariswearisw-” you yawn, helping her pull her boxers back on.

“i dunno, ellie. i’m not sure you deserve it yet.” you sigh. “plus, i’m kinda sleepy.” once she’s dressed, you turn to leave. sliding the door shut behind you and flopping onto the small bed in the back of the trailer.

ellie takes a second to sit and think, and now she really realizes what she’s done. that her ego and crave for fame has gotten in the way of her love. as soon as your hands left her body, it was like she could feel herself losing you in real time.

the faucet squeaks as she turns the handle, splashing some cold water on her cheeks, and it mixes with her tears. what if you leave her? what if you leave her and it’s her fault? what if you showed her countless signs that you were feeling unloved and she completely ignored it? did she do that? now it’s her turn to spiral, to fall down the rabbit hole of insecurity and have to claw herself out with no support at all.

her body is starting to overheat, she peels her sweaty shirt off and throws it in front of her, soothing herself with the cold tile on the floor. she realizes how distant she’s been, how much she’s taken you for granted. maybe sympathy isn’t a knife, it’s a double-edged sword.

a few painful minutes later, she exits the bathroom and lays down beside you, curling into your side and sighing heavily. you can sense her unpleasant mood, but you still don’t really feel bad for her. not after how she’s made you feel.

and then she sits up and she kisses you for the first time in months. a real kiss, not a peck or a bite. her lips press against yours, she tastes the same, sweet and a little bit throaty. soft lips roam around yours, remembering how it feels to be intimate in such a way. to be loved. “i’m sorry.” she whispers on top of your lips. “i really am. do i get another chance?”

maybe sympathy isn’t a knife, it’s a double-edged sword.

[harley-quinnn]

Not My Daddy

Joker x  Reader 

Prompt from @lady-of-lies: Well harley, I'm feeling for a x teen!reader (14-15) were she picks the jokers interest (being a master pick-pocket/gymnast or smt) since she has no one else to look after her joker kind of takes her in? Maybe something with the reader wanting to make a name for herself and joker helping her with all she needs to know? And maybe rewarding her with her very first tattoo or hair dye etc? You can make it into separate fics if you want! Have fun! And oh harley? Go crazy!!!

{A/N} I hope you like it! This gave me such “The Professional” vibes and I loved it! If you haven’t seen it, definitely watch it! I will probably add to this as a series of one shots once I get my other requests finished! <3 xo Harley

Warnings: Murder, violence, violence toward a minor for like 3 seconds, kidnapping (sort of?), tattooing of minor, guns. While there isn’t any real suggestive speaking, I left it kind of open to your own interpretation. 

I sat on the stoop of my apartment building. My parents were nowhere to be found as usual, and I had nothing else to do today. Even if I did, I probably wouldn’t do it, anyway. I took a lazy haul off of the cigarette I bummed from an older kid in apartment 48B with no thought other than needing to get the hell out of the place I was at.

My eyes landed on the usual sights before me, cars driving by, people and kids walking with either no direction or a very important place to be. I might’ve been young, but I was cynical. You don’t grow up in the lifestyle I did without knowing the darker side of life.

The cherry at the end of my smoke lit up bright orange as inhaled, but just beyond that, a man in a dark purple trench coat with bright green hair and pale white skin caught my eye. He was barking orders at another man in a suit. I rolled my eyes. What a sight to see. But I recognized him, and I recognized him immediately. The man in the suit had been to my apartment on more than one occasion, waving around a gun and reminding my dad about the money he owed him. I didn’t care enough to pay attention to the rest. When they walked up to the steps of my building, they both looked down at me with different expressions on their faces. The man in the suit cocked a brow. The man with the ice cold stare wore a blood red smile. My skin crawled at the sight. He was terrifying, but still, something about him interested me. I saw a lot of abnormal shit every day, but he was not something I saw every day.

“What do you creeps want?” I asked, rather unbothered.

“You’re {Y/N}, aren’t you?” The man in the suit inquired right back. “J, this is his kid.”

“Oh, now, now, Frost, we don’t ask our payment questions, do we? No, no, no, no… No, money talks all on its own..” The man in the trench coat seemed to purr before snapping his head to look in Frost’s direction “Grab her.”

“Hey! What fuckin’ gives?!” I dropped my cigarette and fought, trying to push back against the man who was now dragging me into my apartment building and up the stairs.

“He’s not home! I don’t even know where he is, but you won’t find him.”

“Shut up, kid,” Frost rasped, almost pulling my arm out of the socket as we reached the 3rd floor.

“Your daddy’s been making some bad business deals.. Now he gets to reap what he sows, and I get to take something of his…”

“He’s not my daddy,” I spat, rolling my eyes as I was being thrust through my front door. “He’s just the sperm donor that got me here.”

They got a good laugh out of that, but I was serious as a heart attack. My dad was swine. They always said a girl could only trust her dad, but I couldn’t even do that. All he ever did was put us in danger. As I evaluated my situation.. Well, case and point. I wasn’t scared, nothing scared me anymore. But I wasn’t prepared to be held for ransom, I had other stuff to do, like hang out with my friends. My dad didn’t have the money he was looking for, I knew this because I overheard him drunkenly screaming at my mom about it just last night before she packed a bag and left.

They walked through my apartment guns blazing, shooting into rooms aimlessly and tearing holes into the already shabby furniture, all the while toting me along with them.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are….” The man in the trench coat cooed, the grin on his face never faltering as he approached my parents room.

Frost kicked the door open, firing another shot into the open air. There was no stirring, but they pushed onward.

“Maybe he isn’t here, boss,” Frost said, furrowing his brow and loosening his grip on me.

“I told you, he left this morning!” I griped, only to be met with a chilling slap to the cheek from Frost.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t used to the abuse already from my own parents, but it didn’t make the sudden contact any less painful as I placed a hand to my temple. These people were strangers, and I was still a stupid punching bag.

“Don’t be silly,” the other man said, making his way to the closet.

He turned to face us, his hand to reach the sliding door. He extended each finger agonizingly slow, placing it against the wood. When his palm was flush with the door, he began to pull it open. There he was, my trembling, pathetic father.

“I knew we’d meet again,” the grinning man said, feigning a sad expression next for just a split second.

“Joker, man, I don’t… I don’t have your money!” My dad cried, sounding far too frightened than even I expected.

It was then that I realized exactly who these people were. The Joker and his right hand, Jonny Frost. I’d read about them in the paper and heard about them on the streets. The darker side of me admired them. While they were criminals, they seemed to take out all the other bad guys in their way, too.

“Blah.. blah… blah…. Bullshit. I gave you two extra days, {Y/L/N}. And you, took advantage of my kind spirit..”

“Please,” my dad begged as The Joker pulled him out of the closet. “One more day, one more! Then it’s all yours, the money is all yours.”

“Ah…. Hmm…” The Joker seemed to ponder his offer before grinning wide. “No dice. Frost, do me the honor..”

And with that, my dad’s brain painted the wall behind him. I was in shock at the sight, though not exactly hurt. I suddenly wished I had the cigarette they knocked out of my hand earlier.

“I thought we were gonna take the kid for the money,” Frost complained.

“I needed more fun than that, more.. More adrenaline!” He roared, throwing the last word out as though it were the most fun he’d ever had, and Frost only sighed and shook his head.

Typical yes-man behavior, I assumed.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?” The Joker asked me next, turning around and stepping closer.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I retorted, wincing slightly at the sight behind him again.

“Oh! Feisty... Tell me... are you good for anything?” The Joker asked again.

I thought about what he was saying. Surely he wasn’t trying to take advantage of me, but I had no idea what else he would have meant. After a moment, another thought popped into my head, and since I suddenly found myself completely alone in the world, I thought I’d try my luck at something I’d wanted for a while.

I picked another cigarette from the inside of my combat boot, popping it between my lips and lighting it with a lighter that was laying on my parents bed.

“I can pick locks, pick pockets, lie well and I’ve been in gymnastics since I was five.”

The Joker lifted his non existent brows in a mixture of surprise and being impressed, his blue eyes shifting to Frost’s.

“Oh, and I suppose you think I’ll need a master.. pick pocket,” he spat before bubbling with the same twisted laughter he was known for and quickly settling down again. “I have no use for you.”

I tilted my head, my eyes on his gaze for a moment as I tried to formulate my next response. I didn’t want to be tied down from one shit family to another, and now, he was my only shot at some kind of consistency- whether that was criminal or not. I always wanted to be something more… Being tied to these people would provide me that. Maybe I’d see myself on the news one day.

“The least you could do is bring me with you. You just shot my dad in cold blood,” I said matter of factly, taking a drag off of my cigarette like some kind of adult. “Besides, people would trust me. I’m an innocent face. No one knows who I am. They’d all recognize either of you two, I’m sure.” I looked The Joker up and down.

There was no missing him. Everything about him could be picked out of a crowd. He was unique, and while I liked that, I used it to my advantage in this situation.

“She’s got a point, boss,” Frost mused.

“Of course I do. I don’t talk for my health,” I replied.

The Joker laughed, a hearty laugh that I hadn’t yet heard out of him. I knew then that I had him truly impressed.

“I can’t ignore someone who’s not afraid to talk back to Mister Frost here…” he drew out, eyeing me carefully as my eyes drifted back to my father slumped over on the floor.

“Let’s go,” was all he said, and I was being swept back under Frosts grip and dragged out of my apartment. I stumbled back down the stairs and to the middle of the sidewalk, in plain view of anyone who may have passed by.

“Show me what you got,” The Joker demanded placing a gun into my hand, his eyes shifting around the street before disappearing with Frost to an alleyway behind me.

Sure, I could’ve run. I could’ve run for my life and found something better. I could’ve turned around and shot them both and saved the city from their horrid antics. But being a prospect to none other than The Joker was a little exciting, and lord knows my life hadn’t had any of that in a long time. I was young, but I was already as good as messed up.

Instead, I tossed my cigarette and shrugged my shoulders a few times as I placed the gun under the waistband of my skirt and let my hair out of the messy bun it was in. I tousled it a few times as a man approached me in passing, pulling his phone from his pocket.

“Hey, ‘scuse me, mister,” I called out innocently, and he turned around. “I was trying to find the grocery store and got lost, do you think you can give me directions to 4th?”

He deemed me harmless and nodded, making his way back toward me and pulling up the directions on the iPhone’s screen. I peeked at the alley, seeing them both lingering with their eyes dead set on my every move.

As the man began to explain, I gingerly slipped my hand into his pocket.

“Uh-huh.. Oh, so when I get to Park, I have to go where?” I asked again, quickly but carefully grabbing his wallet and shoving it into my sleeve.

“Oh, so I don’t turn left here?” I asked again, pointing with my other hand as I reached back into his other pocket, pulling out what felt like a pack of cigarettes and a small box.

When I was done, I stepped back, giving my best pageant girl grin and batting my eyelashes.

“Gee, thanks mister. I would’ve been terribly lost otherwise,” I expressed gratefully.

“No problem, kid,” he said, turning back and walking away again.

“Oh, hey! By the way!” I called out to him again.

The moment the man turned around, I pulled out the gun and shot him dead between the eyes.

“Those were the wrong directions, jackass.”

I shoved the gun back onto my hip, and calmly walked back into the alley way. After a few moments, people began to swarm the scene before us. We all watched, not a word said between any of us. I pulled out my findings, examining his wallet, clad with three hundred dollars, a driver's license and some credit cards. The pack of cigarettes wasn’t my brand but I’d smoke anything at this point, and then the box. I opened the tiny box slowly, revealing the biggest carat diamond I’d ever seen in my life. My face lit up in awe, and I gasped softly. Before I knew it, The Joker ripped it from my hand, and shoved it into his pocket.

“He won’t be needing that anymore.. Looks like {Y/N} here let him off the hook!”

“That was mine!” I whispered loudly.

“Not anymore,” he said sternly, and I sighed and leaned against the brick wall. A few more moments passed in silence as the police rolled up to the scene before us.

“You’re in,” was all Frost said, and without another word from either of them, I was being dragged down the alley and into an SUV.

The ride was quiet, too, and once we arrived I was being, once again, dragged into a large warehouse.

“Seriously, I’m not going anywhere, I don’t know why you need to keep dragging me along.”

“We’re not exactly the trusting type, sweet cheeks,” Frost said as he pulled out a chair and pushed me down in it, grabbing my wrist and cuffing me to the nearby table.

“Cool…” I said, looking down at my wrist in annoyance.

When it was certain I was going nowhere, The Joker turned around, giving me a large smile and turning his cheek just slightly.

“Whoop-de-doo… You’re not entirely useless!” He roared again. “But I highly doubt you’re trained enough to be a killer… beginners luck.”

He cracked his neck, a sensual look on his features as though it felt a little too good.

“I’ve watched my dad gun people down and wrap them up in rugs for years. Guess it just transferred.”

I heard Frost chuckle from the corner of the room, and The Joker’s eyes immediately shot to him, shutting him up entirely.

“After a little.. training, I’m sure you could be better..” he trailed off, getting lost in thought.

“What’s in it for me?” I asked, my cuff rattling against the leg of the table.

He eyed me, completely silent. Something told me he wanted to let me under his skin, if even just a little, but he didn’t know how. I didn’t expect one of the highest profile criminals to have a heart, anyway.

“What do you want?” He growled.

I never wanted much. In fact, I didn’t expect him to even ask. I had nothing.

“I like tattoos. And hair dye. And cigarettes.”

He laughed, drawing out each “ha” as though it were all just too much.

“Fine… Training starts in an hour… Do good, and we’ll see. Do bad… and I won’t have any reason to keep you around.”

His voice was dark and gravely, the gruffness not something I was used to. He grabbed a black jacket from another chair and walked toward a door that led deeper into the warehouse.

“Watch her,” was all he said to Frost in the open air as he disappeared.

After a while of radio silence, Frost finally spoke.

“So you weren’t exactly mommy and daddy’s favorite, were you? I bet you gave them a hell of a time.”

“My dad wanted a boy. My mom didn’t want me at all.”

“Poor thing,” he said sarcastically, snorting at what would be anyone else’s misfortune.

“It doesn’t bug me. It taught me to be self sufficient early. Kids my age, they can hardly wipe their own asses.”

He snorted again, shaking his head.

“You really got a twisted way of seeing shit, kid.”

“Isn’t that why you guys gave me a shot?” I asked incredulously before the familiar slow laugh rang through the large, empty room as The Joker appeared again.

“Clever, clever, clever….”

“Are you finally gonna uncuff me?” I asked.

“When I need to, I will,” he said sternly, nodding to Frost, who immediately moved to uncuff me from the table.

When he was done, I rubbed my wrist, a slight frown on my lips. He simply smiled.

“If you’re going to be anything out here in this city, you’re going to need a cleaner getaway than shooting a man and high tailing it into an alley…”

And with that, he turned around, gesturing for me to follow him.

As we walked, he explained to me that it was better to vanish than to hide just feet away from the scene of the crime, unless it was still in the early stages where no one knew who I was. He explained various weapons, what he liked them for and how to use them. And once we reached our destination deeper within the warehouse, I saw a collection of things that looked like they belonged to a woman. There were shoes and jewelry, hats and jackets. Everything was red and blue or red and black, and most everything was surrounded by some kind of weapon.

I immediately scanned through everything visible, sizing up what I could steal for my own without him noticing. I’d always had a thing for the shiny and the expensive. Once he turned his back on me, I quickly and quietly got to work. He went on about the proper way to kill a man with nothing more than a joke and a few mind games, and I snuck around the room, taking everything I wanted and could hide on my person.

I found my place just before he turned around, my lips curving into a smile to match his as I pretended to agree with everything he said. A silence hung in the air before he sat down in a large chair and cracked his knuckles.

“The choker, the bracelets, the credit card, the diamond necklace and the engagement ring from my pocket. You’re going to have to be stealthier than that, sweetheart,” he grinned, his tone like a sweet venom as he opened his hand to take back the things I’d stolen.

I rolled my eyes. Of course he knew. I was too predictable, but with his help, I knew I’d be as wonderfully unpredictable as the best of them. I emptied my boots and pockets into his hand. It wasn’t until I placed the switchblade and the white gun into his slender, tattooed fingers that his entire expression changed.

“Well, well, well… We have a true violent streak after all, don’t we? You took those without my realizing..”

“So what’s my prize?” I asked, my hands on my hips.

He eyed me, clearly uncertain of what I was after. Then, there was a glint in his eye.

“How’s about a tattoo, {Y/N}?”

I couldn’t contain the childish excitement that forced its way to the forefront of my features.

“Yes! Finally!”

He didn’t make another sound. Instead, he stood from the chair and moved to a table in the corner.

“You know,” I said, letting my guard down a little. “I always kinda thought you were cool.”

I walked up beside him cautiously, running my finger over the dusty table. He seemed to tense up, though he didn’t speak a word.

“I wanted to do what you do. Rob banks and kill people. Mostly just the bad ones, though.”

“Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to do bad things?” He asked sarcastically, pulling little pots of ink from a drawer, along with a tattoo gun that looked like it had seen better days.

The side of the tattoo gun, had “H+J” etched into it. I wondered who H was as I scoffed at his question.

“He’s not my daddy... But you could be better than him to me,” I paused, briefly unsure of what I even meant. “My father was a piece of shit. But you.. you’re cooler. More fearless. You get what you want. When you want it. How you want it.”

My eyes absorbed his expression, noticing something change in his face for just a split second after I spoke. I didn’t have to be an adult to know whatever I said had struck something in him.

“Sit down…” He rasped, pointing to a chair beside him that seemed to have been painted in blood at one point.

I did as I was told. I moved the chair to sit down across from him, bearing my wrist and pushing my bracelets up further along with my jacket sleeve.

“What can I do for ya…?” He inquired only, his eyes wide with insanity, and his ruby grin even wider.

Something in me wanted to pay tribute to my new found freedom, even if I found it under the command of a new face. I wanted to pay homage to him, for helping me escape what I considered to be a hell hole. Even though he held up a wall between letting me in as his protege completely, unsure of just how to handle someone so young who packed such a punch, I didn’t care.

“I want the card suits. You know, spade, diamond, club-“

“Heart,” he finished for me, his voice gruff. “I know the deal.”

He flashed his knuckles in my direction, wiggling his fingers slowly; each knuckle bearing the same thing I’d just asked for. I gave a tight-lipped smile, nodding once. I had no idea what kind of pain I was going to be in for, but I knew at this point, nothing could phase me.

The needle hitting my skin, leaving little black lines, was exhilarating. It was such a burning, blissful pain that I wasn’t even sure how to handle it. I watched as he worked away, drawing each suit just as I asked. I scrunched my nose a few times, chewed on my lower lip even more, the pain enough to get me to cringe. But once it was over, he wiped away my blood and leaned back in his chair.

I looked at my wrist, happy with my new permanent dedication to my new life. It seemed so perfect; it felt so fitting. Small traces of blood seeped to the surface of each jet black pattern in my skin, and I couldn’t have been happier. There was no concealing the grin I wore as my eyes met his. He opened his arms wide before placing them behind his head slowly.

“Don’t say I never gave ya anything….”

[eclectic-spaghetti]

The Believer - Chapter One

Description: And now, ladies and gentlemen, for something completely different.

Warnings: Very mild language

Other: Samsie (you can’t stop me)

Sammy Lawrence was in the zone. He had been working on a song all morning, but nothing had worked until a few minutes ago. Excited, he had run to his office to get his banjo and immediately began plucking out the tune.

Sammy began to realize that he wasn’t just playing the music, he was the music. The notes swirled all around him, the rhythm was pulsing in his ears, he was closing in on the final note-

A roaring sound entered his ears. Startled, Sammy dropped his banjo. It let out one last ploink as it hit the floor. Sammy remained on his chair, not even bothering to pick up his fallen instrument. His muse had left him, leaving him confused and futilely clutching at the last remnants of his song as it left his mind.

Sammy glanced toward the far wall. Sure enough, it was that damn pump switch making the noise. Sammy yelled a curse at it, and placed his head on the desk.

Soon, there came a knock on Sammy’s office door. When he did not answer, the door opened anyway, and a tallish fellow with a crooked nose stuck his head in the room. “‘Scuse me, Mr. Lawrence,” he apologized in a Brooklyn accent, “but I gotta flip the switch in here if you don’t mind-”

Sammy lifted his head to face the man. “I do mind, actually, Wally. Now, please. Leave me to my despair.”

Wally jabbed a finger at the offending switch in the far corner. “But- what about the switch-”

Sammy cut in. “I’ll flip it myself, Wally. Now get out of here.”

Wally shrugged. “Suits me,” he said, and left the room, neglecting to shut the door behind him, and dripping several puddles of ink onto Sammy’s floor.

As Sammy got up from his chair to turn the infernal device, he kicked his door closed and violently threw a rag at the puddles of ink. He sat back down in his chair and buried his face in his hands. A single tear trickled down his cheek. Please... He sent a silent plea up to the heavens. Please, whatever the hell is up there... or down there, for all I care.... Please fix this... I can’t go on... Sammy slumped onto his desk, knocking his pens to the floor.

I can’t...

Sammy must have fallen asleep, because he woke up. He was roused from sleep by a knocking on his door. He groggily stood up, brushing his hair away from his face, and moved to open the door. When he opened it, he saw the tired eyes and ragged smile of Norman Polk.

“Evenin’, Sammy,” he greeted wearily. “Sorry to disturb you-”

“Anything to get out of this damn office,” Sammy muttered under his breath.

“-But I’ve been sent to come collect you for this evenin’s recording session.”

Sammy almost yelled. He had totally forgotten about the recording session that was scheduled for tonight. He began rummaging through the drawers on his desk, his rows of filing cabinets, everything, looking for his notes. All the while, he was frantically saying “But I’m not ready! I don’t have my notes, the song’s not edited, and I don’t even know what do do about the-”

Norman put a hand on Sammy’s shoulder. “Relax, man, relax!” he soothed in his deep voice. “You don’t need to have notes for this sort of thing, anyway! You just need to be in the recording booth with Miss Campbell and help her with her cues and the like! You don’ have to worry so much, my friend!”

Sammy’s face lit up. He walked to the door, straightened his bow tie, and said to Norman, “Well! Shall we head off, then?”

Norman chuckled at Sammy’s sudden eagerness, but silenced himself when his friend gave him a dirty look.

As they walked down the hall, Sammy asked Norman, “Why so weary, Mr. Polk? Rough day with the reels?”

Norman sighed. “Nah, not with the reels, no... Joey was yellin’ at me again, that’s all. Nothin’ to worry about.”

Sammy turned his head towards Norman. “Yeah? Yelling about what, exactly?”

“Well, I may have accidentally walked in on him and the Ink Machine again.”

Sammy cringed. “Ouch. What was he doing with it?”

Norman shrugged. “Not much, just looked to me like he was rubbing its machinery and muttering something. Don’t see why he’d scream at me for walking in on ‘top secret activity,’”

“Unless he was embarrassed that you caught him caressing its gears,” Sammy cracked.

Norman chuckled. “Well, we’re here. Now, I gotta run up to my booth, so I’ll see you after the recording, okay pal?”

Sammy clapped his friend on the back. “See you, buddy.”

Norman left, heading for his projector’s booth, and Sammy went through the door into the music performance room.

Everyone was staring at him. The band conductor, the band, even Norman had joined in from up above, although he was grinning. The band conductor shook his head. “Late again, Sammy. We've all been waiting. Fortunately, Miss Campbell isn't here yet, either, or we'd be writing you up to Mr. Drew right about now.”

Sammy glared at the conductor. "If Miss Campbell has not arrived yet then I see no reason to blame me for holding up the proceedings. Now, if you'll let me pass...”

Sammy pushed past the conductor and crawled over the small barrier that separated the recording booth with the rest or the room. The conductor muttered something about “getting that window in there,” but he turned a blind eye.

Sammy sat down in one of the two chairs in the small booth, put his music and notes on one of the music stands, put Susie’s music on the other, along with a flower, and exhaled. 

A moment later, Susie Campbell threw open the door to the booth. Her wavy blond hair was all over her face, and she was out of breath. She sat down in the other chair. 

“Sammy! Hi!” Susie puffed as she fixed her hair. “Am I late?” she asked.

Sammy pretended to check his watch. “Nope. You're right on time.”

“Phew!” Susie breathed a sigh of relief. “My watch must be fast. I thought I was going to be late!”

Sammy smiled. “"Don't worry, I would have covered for you. I've been here for a while, getting everything set up just right for you.” Susie blushed slightly. She blushed even more when she saw the flower. She smiled at Sammy and slipped the flower into her pocket.

The conductor tapped his baton on his stand. “Ahem,” he gave the two a meaningful look. “Now, if we are all ready... Let us begin!” He pressed the button to turn on the band’s microphones, and pointed at Norman. Norman started the projector, playing a reel of “Sent from Above,” which was the debut reel for Alice Angel. The band began to play the opening theme for the episode.

Sammy was reaching to turn on the microphone in the booth when he noticed that Susie was breathing very rapidly. He took his hand back. “You okay there?” he asked.

Susie slowed her breathing a bit. “I'm so nervous!” she whispered. “What if I mess up! What if I miss my cue! What if-”

Sammy put a finger on her lips. “’What ifs’ get nobody nowhere. You have this, Susie, I know you do!”

Susie relaxed a bit, but Sammy tensed. “Your cue’s coming up. Get ready!”

Susie started to sweat. Sammy looked at her. “Breathe.” he reminded her. Susie took in a large gulp of air. Sammy glanced at the conductor, and turned on the microphone. “And...”

The conductor gestured toward them. Susie breathed again. Sammy placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Go.”

Susie began to sing.

“I'm the cutest little angel sent from above, and I know just how to swing...