#hugs n holding hands n kisses on the cheek n stufff

[smolselfshippingaxcycat]

hug yewr local art floor librarian todayyy

[deathandrenegades]

Split at the Seams - Part 8

Summary: Leto!Joker x reader drabble series. You get kidnapped by the Joker and he holds you captive for awhile, could it be stockholm syndrome getting to you? or maybe it’s the elctro shock therapy he used on you.

Word Count: 884

A/N: this whole drabbles series is bloody and pretty messed up, so if this doesn’t seem like something you’d be into, steer clear. i got other stufff you’ll like anyways.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

The sun blinded me as I woke, dreading the day to come. I trudged out of bed and headed to the shower, trying to wake up. Yesterday felt like a dream, I couldn't believe I didn't wake up on a cold metal table.

I stepped into my closet after using nearly every bottle of lotion and shampoo I could find that was spread out on the long bathroom counter. My hair smelled like melon and cucumbers.

I quickly slipped into a gold romper, finding simple black heels to pair with it. I stood in front of the mirror, taking in my appearance.

My ankles had stitch scars around both of them, along with my wrists and neck making me look like an old rag doll sewn back together. There were big purple rings under my eyes from all the sleepless nights on the table. I pulled my bleach blonde hair into a high ponytail, unsatisfied with how I looked. 8 months in a basement made me nearly transparent, I was so white. I quickly threw on some black and gold eye makeup, trying to feel more like myself as I continued to get dressed. I shook my head, stepped completely out of my clothes and opting for a black shirt with dark denim jeans and converse. I smiled in the mirror, much better.

I tried to pry open the door, but it wouldn't budge. I knocked, certain someone would be there to guard it.

“Yes?” A deep voice grunted.

“Can I have some coffee, please?” I asked through the door sweetly, grabbing the vase next to the door.

He opened the door just enough for me to slip out, and smash his head over with the vase. I placed a peck on his forehead, leaving a kiss mark there and skipped down the stairs, determined to find the kitchen.

The guards quickly spotted me and moved to send me back, but I happily stopped them.

“Boys, what's a girl around here gotta do to eat?” I smiled and winked, slinking my way by them and finding the kitchen finally. I sat at the bar counter, where J stood, not even turning his head to me. I pouted.

“Good morning.” My voice rang.

“I see you escaped, not that I'm surprised.” He scoffed, setting pancakes and bacon in front of me.

“That I did, thank you Mister J.” I grinned. He caught my eye and smirked, not letting anymore come from it. “You're not gonna compliment my look this morning?” I made a gesture to myself. He set down his fork and let his mouth twist into a devilish smile, one I hadn't seen in awhile.

“You look very nice, doll.” He purred. I flashed my teeth at him.

He collected the plates and then turned to me, a magnificent excitement in his eyes. I swallowed, knowing it could only mean one thing. He strode over to me and gripped my wrist, yanking me off the stool and over into the kitchen. My heart picked up as I heard the boiling water, I looked at him mortified.

“Did I tell you to leave this morning, Harley?” He snarled, tugging me over to the stove.

“That's not my-”

“You don't even know what day it is!” He screeched. “Maybe it's Tuesday, maybe it's Saturday, maybe it's not even fucking December.” He taunted. My head swam as tears flowed down my face, by now he was holding my head over the steam, the boiling water underneath me.

“What's your name?” He yelled into my ear.

Harley. Harley. Harley Quinzel. I felt my head start to spin as the voices chanted.

“Harley.” I sobbed, the steam starting to burn my cheek.

“What day is it?”

“I don't know.”

“Where are you?”

“I don't know!” I cried.

“Who took care of you?” He hissed, shoving my face closer to the water.

“W-what?” I gasped. With a swift motion he ripped me up right, away from the steam and took my hand, holding it over the pot.

“Who took care of you? Who made sure these healed?” He pressed, rubbing his thumb over the scars on my wrist.

“You did.” I breathed, his blue eyes wild with power and lust. With another swift turn he grabbed my ponytail and pulled me against him, chest to chest. My heart beating wild as he crashed his lips to mine for the second time, and this time I was prepared. I attacked his mouth back, half driven with hate, half driven by lust. He ripped away from my small bites, yanking my head back.

“One last thing for Daddy.” He murmured, and dunk the ends of my hair into the boiling water.

I knew fighting wouldn't work, but I couldn't help but to wonder what was happening. He carefully removed my hair from the water, wrapping it in a towel before shoving me in front of a mirror to show me.

My hair had been dipped in pink. I squealed with delight, turning around and wrapping my arms around his neck for a hug.

“Thank you!” I squealed. His hand pressed into my back and I froze at his touch, unsure of what he was about to do.

“Anything for Daddy's little girl.” He whispered into my ear sending chills down my spine.