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kneamet · 3 years

Text

Angel of cards (6/16)

Trigger Warning: yandere, obsession, obsessive thoughts, kidnapping.

Summary: Joker, Mr. J, anarchist psychopath, Tom Hiddleston. He had many nicknames. Joker was Gotham’s most dangerous and insightful man, with sharp makeup and horribly memorable scars on his face in the form of a smile. He was absolutely crazy and deadly. No one knows his real identity and everyone is afraid of his cruel jokes. But what happens when he becomes obsessed with an ordinary girl?

She belongs to him. No one can take her away from him. Even The Batman.

Chapter six: unpleasant actions

The Joker didn't particularly like the fact that his angel didn't even participate in his actions and their pleasures. Didn't she enjoy their first reunion? Wasn't she as happy about it as he was?

He was just giving her pleasure. And the Joker was pretty sure she was happy about it, too. As if she wasn't flattered by the idea of becoming one with him.

He knew that his angel was a virgin, and so was he. He was sure that she had deliberately kept her virginity for him, just as he had kept it for her. That would be a perfectly logical and understandable explanation.

The Joker had always wanted to enjoy those moments of their first touch. He had always felt that this was why they had such a strong bond.

The man, his fingers clenched on the sink until they were red, slowly, leaning on trembling hands, climbed to the square mirror against the wall. He pressed his lips into a thin line and looked closer at his image. He didn't particularly like the way he looked without makeup. It was as if his bad self was being removed by removing his makeup.

His hair, still green, no longer curled. He was not used to looking at himself in the mirror without makeup. He felt like a freak. Thin compressed lips, very stylishly bitten from teeth with stripped red skin. Those terrible scars marring his face. The only things Joker liked about his appearance were the purple suits he wore day after day and the blue ones with grayish and green hues.

But even though he didn't accept himself, he was sure that his angel loved him and would even be able to accept his appearance so much that she would like his bitten lips and scars, which sometimes still showed blood from their constant scratching. He kept touching them.

His angel. Oh, how he wanted them to make love again. The Joker didn't think it was rape. On the contrary, it seemed to him that this was how they expressed love. And what's the big deal about her resisting a little?

However, Tom didn't particularly like what the Joker was doing to Blake. Yes, the Joker was his personality, getting along with it, but what to consider a real rape-

The Joker shook his head quickly. What the fuck is this cute romantic waking up in his mind again. He chased him away, literally locked him in a dungeon.

Tom will not be able to break through and harm (release! shouted Tom in the back of his mind) to his angel. They can't get along. She is now only his and the Joker will not let anyone take his angel.

He sighed and stood up straight, reaching for the powder and paint with quick movements and shaking hands. White powder and white paint combined perfectly and it became very easy to wash them off.

The Joker began to act sloppily with paint, not even worrying about well-being. He didn't have to worry about anything that day, since he needed to visit his angel right now, and he was sure that she would stay with him for the whole day and no one would be able to stop them.

After finishing his makeup, the Joker put everything in the pockets of his coat. In the building in which he, with some of his assistants, began to live, it was quite cold. Although for his angel, he definitely gave the warmest place.

The Joker quickly left the bathroom and made his way to the kitchen with quick, basic movements. The kitchen was small. The man hadn't been here yet, but he immediately noticed the interior of the room, which had a colorful tile floor. On the walls are pasted wallpaper, painted even in some places.

The kitchen was not very well furnished. By the window is a small dining table, where one of his very close subordinates was sitting. Not that he was attached to him, but he was definitely smart. The Joker had a bad memory for names, but he knew the man's name very well. Robert Hill. He was not a particularly handsome man: dark-haired, with black eyes and a very thin build. However, the Joker only encouraged intelligence, strength, and courage. He noticed that Bob was smoking a Stutton. The man grimaced slightly. He just hated those cigarettes.

The Joker wasn't particularly interested in Robert right now. He was more concerned about his angel, who was probably hungry and begging for food.

To the left of the countertop is a kitchen stove with four gas burners and an oven hidden behind a glass door made of dark striped glass. On the right is a large bright white two-chamber refrigerator, on the doors of which a whole collection of magnets with landscapes is pasted.

Joker wanted to make them sandwiches. It was the lightest meal, and given that it was early, it was possible to take a light breakfast. Quickly slicing the bread and sending it to the toaster, which he did not know how to use, he continued to cut the food.

After a few seconds, the bread jumped out of the toaster and the Joker carefully put all the ingredients in it. I had to do two such operations.

Joker ate and slept very rarely, but for the sake of his angel, it was fashionable to sacrifice the usual daily routine and eat.

Quickly, like a hyena, he picked up the tray with a trembling hand, on which he had already placed plates and mugs of water, and ran lightly, like a tribute, to the door of his angel. It's their first dinner. It will be so wonderful! Their first meal together!

Joker quickly opened the door, holding the tray with one hand and closing it with the other. His angel had to be protected. And letting it out would be a rash decision.

The man put the tray on a small table that stood near her closet, opposite the door, quickly distracted from it. He turned back, looking for his angel.

He licked his lips when he saw her curled up in a ball. He saw her flanks move quickly and he heard a soft whimper. His eyes opened quickly and he ran to her with quick movements, hugging her.

"W-what?" his angel whispered softly, and he saw her look up at him with her lovely brown eyes. He could feel the bewilderment in them at first, but then it turned into fright and she tried to pull away again, which the Joker didn't allow, only tightening his arms and leading her to the table where the tray was. "What is it?"

The man saw the bewilderment in his angel's eyes, but he just put everything in its place, and he sat down at the table on an uncomfortable chair that was smaller than him.

Joker could see that the girl looked confused and afraid. He reached out to her with his hand and stroked her hand that didn't even resist his. With his gloved hands, he slowly rubbed the delicate hand of his angel. Ah, the Joker stifled a groan, she's amazing.

"Is he poisoned?" pulling his hand out of the Joker's grip, his angel asked, lowering his hand to his knees, continuing to hold the Joker's heavy and intense gaze.

He didn't particularly like the way she was dismissive of him. He didn't like it, but he wanted to calm her down. To say that everything is fine and he would not poison the food.

"Don't worry, my angel, death by poison is very boring, and I have no desire to kill you. I swear I love you with all my heart, " the Joker said, letting out a small chuckle.

He watched as his angel nodded, picked up the sandwich, and took a small bite. He licked his lips as he watched her eat. He eats slowly, gracefully, biting off small pieces, lowering his eyes down and striking with his submissiveness.

The Joker himself didn't eat anything. He wasn't interested in food, especially now that he had such a rare and lovely diamond in front of him. So beautiful.

He could see her wiping food crumbs from her mouth with the sleeve of her sweater and then shaking out her sleeves. His angel looked up at him with her beautiful brown eyes and said softly:

"What time is it now?" she looked down, apparently unable to look at the Joker, which he didn't particularly like. She must look at him! And give your precious attention only to him! His angel should be interested in nothing but him.

"11:11," Joker muttered automatically, watching intently as his angel got up from his chair and shook out his pants. Without even tasting his breakfast, he stood behind her, towering over his helpless angel in a way that wouldn't hurt a fly.

"Thank you for breakfast, Mr. Joker," his angel muttered, not really bothered by the Joker. After all, her beautiful and melodious voice was simply amazing, however, like herself. Her lovely lips continued to say something else, but he did not betray it.

Tom leaned into Blake and pulled her into a gentle and attentive kiss. He didn't bite her lips. Tom's kiss was soft and simple.

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kneamet · 3 years

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Angel of cards (16/16)

Trigger Warning: obsession, yandere, madness.

She belongs to him. No one can take her away from him. Even The Batman.

Chapter Sixteen: reality or...?

“Did I say something funny?" a stern but slightly perplexed voice asked from the left. Tom just smiled, closing his eyes and moving his strong shoulders up.

He blinked a couple of times and went back to counting the number of tiles on the floor. His thoughts were now trying to focus on what he had been thinking earlier. What was it about? What happened?

"You won't understand," he said again, snapping his fingers.

The voice sounded familiar earlier. Quiet, melodic, calm and as sweet as possible. It sounded familiar. Very familiar. Too familiar.

It was like a voice... an angel. An angel. His angel. His Blake. His favorite angel named Blake. But what, what's going on? Is he dreaming again? What if it wasn't her? What if it was someone else trying to imitate the voluptuous voice of his angel?

It must be some kind of impostor. Definitely yes. He's dreaming all this. Dreaming. Dreaming.

He quickly raised his blue eyes to the person who, judging by the voice, was a girl, up. Indeed, his angel was sitting in front of him. Oh, what a hedgehog she was now beautiful.

Her light brown hair lay softly on her light and weak shoulders. They were cut to the length of the shoulders, which is strange. Did she get her hair cut? Got a haircut? Without his knowledge? Without his consent?

They were a couple! A couple! So why didn't she respect his opinions?!

Tom felt his brows furrow as he continued to study his angel in front of him. Her smooth nose, her beautiful brown eyes that could have been drowned in, looked at him with disbelief and incomprehension at the moment. Thin lips that were slightly parted. Oh, that's so sweet.

However, he did not understand one thing. Why was she wearing a doctor's suit? Some kind of white long robe, and indeed the very room in which he was, did not cause him ardent and pleasant emotions. It was made in white colors. White walls, white, but with small flecks of light green color. The white chair he was currently sitting on and, of course, the white table in front of them.

"Angel," Tom muttered, beginning to giggle slightly and roll his eyes as he tried to reach out to his beloved, shiny, beautiful angel.

"Mr. Hiddleston..." Oh, what a nice voice she has. He would have listened to it all the time. This is too, impossibly exciting. How can you be so innocent and exciting at the same time

The answer to that question was his angel. How lovely she is. However, he didn't like the look in her eyes. Frowning, stern, slightly arrogant. There was a note in it... fear? Is his angel afraid of him? What for? Why? Hadn't he given her everything she'd asked for?

His angel arched an eyebrow and only curled her lips in slight disdain. Contempt? Does she feel contempt for him? What happened? He doesn't recognize his angel!

Suddenly Tom, having plucked up the courage, but still not understanding what was happening and not understanding the behavior of his angel, stood up in an uncomfortable white chair and instantly, quickly, like lightning, slipped to his angel, who was looking at him with great misunderstanding.

Tom saw the look in her eyes. He felt his heart skip a beat. No, does she really not understand?

The man only tightened his grip on her arms, lifting them above her head and leaning against the white wall. He could feel his angel trying to pull away. Does she really not like this? Why would she resist him?

"My angel, it's me — Tom. I'm Tom. Tom. Tom. Tom. Tom. The one your favorite is!"

"Get away from me, you fucking lunatic!" his angel screamed, once again trying to escape from Tom's captivity.

But why?! He wanted to howl. Why? Didn't she remember him? But how is this possible?

Why did she call him crazy? Him! Him! It! The man who had done everything for her!

"Help!" his angel shouted again, to which Tom simply shushed her, covering her lovely lips, which were kissing so well with his big free hand.

"Hush, my angel, hush!" said Tom, feeling his angel's rapid breathing. He could feel her undisguised fear. He knew that she was afraid of him at the moment. He knew her, and he deliberately put psychological pressure on her. Oh, how nice.

Suddenly, however, his peripheral vision caught a small movement to his right. A slight creaking sound caught his ear. Hell, someone had noticed them. Or else he came running at the call of his angel.

His eyes moved feverishly over his angel. He didn't know what to do. I had to improvise. He licked his lips and didn't feel the familiar scars that had always graced his face. What happened? Where are they? Instead, he felt the usual, for all the people, very thin lips.

The man looked up, as his gaze had previously been directed at the floor, and did not see his beloved angel. He felt his hands begin to shake. He looked to his left in panic as his angel closed the door behind him. It was visible through the small window of his old room.

He quickly rushed to the door and began to knock on it with quick movements. One, two, three. One, two, three. Why the hell aren't they opening it? He could see the tears welling up in his angel's eyes in fright.

Oh, no, don't cry. He didn't like to see her sad. He did not like her small and bitter tears. Then Tom made himself want to cry.

He slowly knelt down and leaned his back against the large steel door. Suddenly, a laugh would come out of his mouth. Crazy laughter. Hysterical laughter.

Thomas grabbed his short, surprisingly short hair and squeezed it tightly in his calloused hands. Where are his scars? He started pulling his hair back hard, feeling some of the ends break off. My hands were shaking. My heart was beating very fast.

"I'll get her back," he muttered to himself in a halting voice and taking many sharp breaths and incessantly. My breath caught in my throat. "I'll get her back. I'll get her back! We'll be together, " they'll be together. Together forever, as it should have been originally. "Together-together-together! mine-mine-mine!"

His eyes were wild.

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kneamet · 3 years

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Angel of cards (13/16)

Trigger Warning: no.

She belongs to him. No one can take her away from him. Even The Batman.

Chapter thirteen: the Hospital

"Dear Bruce,

I'll be honest with you... I'm going to marry Harvey Dent. I love him and I want to spend the rest of my life with him. When I said that if Gotham didn't need Batman anymore... we can be together... I wasn't lying. But I'm sure the day will never come when you don't need Batman.

I hope I'm wrong. And if so, I'll be there. But as a friend. If you have lost faith in me, please keep your faith in people.

With everlasting love, Rachel, " Bruce whispered the last sentence softly, resenting the loss. There were gentle tears in his eyes. The hand clutched the paper on which the love words were written.

Why Rachel? Why her? Why exactly the love of his life, and not... someone else? Why did the Joker say this address and not some other address? Why did he name the place where Harvey is?

"Alfred?" Without taking his eyes off the window, his right eyebrow slightly raised, but still with an emotionless, steely voice that had an anxious and trembling note in it, Wayne asked.

In his peripheral vision, Bruce could see that Alfred had entered the room, dressed like a string. He couldn't see his expression or feel his feelings, but he knew that his beloved butler was also deeply sorry.

"Yes, Master Wayne?" asked Alfred, in his usual voice, with a hint of regret in it. He knew how much his master loved Rachel.

"Is it my fault?" Bruce asks with a sigh, feeling the paper get wet because of his sweaty palms from the fear of responsibility. "I was supposed to inspire good... not madness and death, " Wayne's always calm voice faltered. His jaw trembled slightly. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

"You inspired good, but you spat in the face of the Gotham mafia. Did you think there would be no consequences?" Alfred asked, still holding the bottle of wine in his old hands, which Bruce would probably drink in one gulp. "Life always gets worse before it gets better," he sighed again and stood up from his comfortable black chair, turning to Pennyworth.

"But Rachel, Alfred," he countered, raising his voice slightly. It was too much to bear. Will Bruce be able to cope with such grief on his own? Would the general darkness swallow him up?

"Rachel believed in what you stood for. Gotham needs you, " the butler said in a reassuring old voice, moving closer to his master. He just looked down.

"Gotham needs a real hero," a real one. Not like him. Gotham needs someone who can always defend their rights and protect Gotham in a truly legal way. "And I almost let that psycho blow him to hell," Bruce whispered softly, referring to the Joker.

Wayne's hand, which was already holding the piece of paper with the love and voluptuous words, only tightened and tightened. The Joker. This blood-pumping and frenzied lunatic who only thinks about how to destroy Gotham.

And what about his equally beloved Blake? The same person who could always support him when Rachel was away? And if Rachel, he sighed, could be subject to that darkness, he didn't notice it for Blake.

Still, what does this fucking nutcase want with his best friend's niece? Bruce licked his parched lips of honey that had become wet from the tears of the meek.

He must understand everything.

***

"She wanted to wait for me," Harvey mumbled, gripping his aching knuckles tightly. He could still see the pleas and screams of his beloved as she died. Rachel. He opened his mouth slightly in annoyance, pulling his lower jaw forward. Will he be able to live without everything now?

First, the Joker took away the first ray of light in his life — Blake. His beloved niece, whom he adored with all his kindred love. Would he have been able to break into the ranks of prosecutors if he hadn't been there? Hardly.

The second thing the Joker took from him was Rachel. His favorite, his sweetest girl, for whom he was willing to do anything. Exactly the same one. The one who always supported him, helped him.

He didn't listen to Gordon's useless talk. Even aside from the fact that he was a very nice person who really felt sorry for him, Harvey didn't want to see him right now. His obsessive and mumbling behavior only irritated him and injected more anger.

"I'm sorry about Rachel," he said suddenly, after a long silence that lasted about a mortal two minutes. Dent choked on his breath. "The doctor says you have a terrible pain, but you don't take your medication. That you refuse... from a skin graft, " knowing that it would not entail anything good, Gordon said quietly. Harvey only stifled a guttural growl. Idiot. Idiot. What kind of mumbling creature is this?

"You remember that name... what you gave me... When did I work for you?" Dent asked, turning to face Jim, who was standing with his head down and his brown-and-green cap in his hands.

He could see the flash of fear in the commissioner's eyes, but immediately suppressed. Is he afraid of him? But why? What's there to be afraid of? These burns on the second half of the face? Or what?

"How was it, Gordon?" he asked in a more severe voice, squinting his right eye.

"Harvey, I am..."

"Speak up," Harvey said in a steely and very stern voice, feeling an uneasy shiver run down his spine. He knew the nickname. Knew. "Speak up!"

"Two-face. Harvey is two-faced."

"Why hide who I am now?" the man asked, baring his teeth and swallowing.

"I'm sorry," Gordon said in a low voice, only clinging more tightly to himself. He didn't like being shouted at, even though he'd seen a lot of things in his life.

"No," came the steely reply again.

***

Damn Moroni! The Joker thought furiously. His thoughts were now just a hailstorm of thoughts and a chaotic chaos that couldn't calm down. He licked his dry, bland, cold lips with a rough tongue. He was walking briskly toward Harvey Dent's room.

Oh, yes, the very man he had almost killed, and whom Batman had saved just in time. What a good boy he is. He would have to do it again somehow, and arrange a soft and favorable game for his favorite toy.

Although to be honest, Batman was eerily boring. That mumbling, stern voice and thoughts that he couldn't even properly show and say. Were you sure he was Bruce Wayne, the son of rich parents?

The Joker clenched his fists. His nostrils flared wide and he drew in a sharp breath. He resisted the urge to grimace. He likes the smell of the hospital. Medical supplies and equipment. Terribly. It's disgusting. Antiseptics for surface treatment, autoclave, hospital food, quartz, and the patients themselves, who apparently rarely wash, also had an unpleasant smell.

The Joker pressed the black plastic doorknob, pushing open the white door and entering a room that was clearly designed for premium guests. He chuckled, licking his painted lips again. Sloppy.

He quickly looked around the room, trying to find something that could be used against him. His quick and deft eye caught only a small silver tray, but he was unlikely to be able to defend himself with it.

The Joker sat down on the brown chair next to Harvey's bed. What beautiful burns the fire had left him, the Joker grinned. It definitely suits him. And how he hadn't done that to himself before. He stifled a small laugh.

"Hi," the Joker drawled, grinding his teeth together and making an unpleasant sound. Harvey, of course, woke up. The man saw the body of the injured patient tremble slightly and suddenly Harvey turns his head, shuddering slightly and trying to stand up.

"You know..." the Joker drawled again, prolonging the intrigue, until suddenly he noticed the terrible look of his interlocutor. Why is he looking so surprised? Oh, yes, the nurse's costume. In general, he liked it.

The Joker, or rather Tom, always liked to dress in women's suits. He felt to the bottom sometimes... more complete, or what? Yes, I suppose so, considering that it was only his mother who took care of Tom at the time.

He pulled back his fake red hair, trying to mess it up even more. Although it would seem that much more? They were already in a very sloppy state.

"...I don't want any hard feelings between us, Harvey, " the Joker curled his lips in disdain, slightly pinching his nose and frowning. "When my angel..." The Joker liked this savage look of Harvey, who was ready to tear anyone up for his favorite girls in the form of Blake and Rachel. But now that neither one, that is, Harvey, nor the other, that is, Bruce, has a favorite, how will they cope now?

How good it was that he had an angel of his own.

"Blake!" said Harvey loudly. The Joker grinned imperceptibly and raised his hands in the air, as if admitting the truth of the other person.

"...my angel was kidnapped ... " the Joker continued, taking great pleasure in Dent's anger. "...I didn't kidnap her. More precisely, I kidnapped her, but not to kill her. I'll do you a huge favor... My angel, or yours, or maybe Bruce's, Blake, is still alive. And I confess from the bottom of my heart, I'm being a gentleman to her," he saw Harvey's displeased face.

What doesn't he like? His niece is alive and well, she is happy to spend time with him, what is the problem?

"By the way, I didn't detonate those bombs," the Joker said quickly, as if trying to get off the subject, raising his hands again and licking his lips. To be honest, it was not pleasant for him to go without his favorite gloves.

It's terrible to look at your scars. They're so awful, Tom thought, suddenly breaking into the Joker's thoughts. Go away, Thomas! You're in the way! And didn't the Joker tell you that it's not exactly the right time to show up? Yes, and that very moment of obsession.

"These are your people. Your plan!" accused Harvey loudly, trying to rebel again, but the Joker only let out a nervous laugh, after which Det immediately stopped moving, froze with his eyes wide open.

"Do I look like someone who has a plan?" the Joker asked in an insistent tone, arching an eyebrow. He chuckled. However, suddenly, his eyes widened and he quickly jumped out of the chair, lowering his shoulders down and taking quick steps towards the door.

Harvey asked when the Joker was already out the door, but still not closing the door. The man just smiled reassuringly.

"My angel will miss you, I know, but I promise I'll beat the crap out of her and she'll be my wife," the Joker said unctuously, watching as Harvey's eyes began to grow larger. He tried to do something again and began to move quickly, trying to free himself and stand up. Suddenly, a door slammed. "Goodbye, Harvey-ee-ee," the Joker sang.

The man began to walk quickly towards the main exit. Now the fun begins. I wonder if the media will like this show? But he didn't want to think about it now. His biggest concern right now was his angel. Oh, how she must have missed him... Hungry and bored for sure. Well, he would help her.

And now we need to kill Harvey Dent.

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kneamet · 3 years

Text

Angel of cards (9/16)

Trigger Warning: yandere, obsession, obsessive thoughts, kidnapping, threats,

She belongs to him. No one can take her away from him. Even The Batman.

Chapter nine: sweet voice

She was so beautiful when she was asleep, the Joker thought to himself, standing in his angel's room now, looking at her with admiring eyes. She was so beautiful.

Her light brown hair, which was tied in a small ponytail, was awkwardly disheveled. Her beautiful brown eyes, which usually looked at him with a little fear and fortitude, were now closed and in a blissful state.

Her hands... Ah, her beautiful hands. The fingers of her hands were long, which went well with her work. Just as long and smart.

The Joker raised his hand and looked at her, his lips curling slightly in self-loathing. Terribly. The most terrible hands on the planet. Insignificant, full of scars and memories of a past life.

He looked down at his lap, where he kept the book he had brought for his angel. Jane Eyre. The Joker didn't particularly like romance, and he knew that his angel wouldn't want to read this, since she only liked detective stories, but he had no choice.

This book was insisted on by this cute romantic who always wanted to be heard. And even though he sometimes took his body back, the Joker didn't allow it. His taste in books was terrible, though.

But if you think about it, you can understand that if Tom had not cut out the scars, then the Joker himself would not have been. He just wouldn't show up.

***

The boy walked stiffly down the dark alley, shoulders hunched. He looked around quickly. This place did not cause him any comfort and all he wanted to do now was hide somewhere far away, but rather than stay here and go home to his mother and stepfather, who were clearly drinking now.

He blinked a couple of times, shaking his head, and licked his dry lips. He didn't really want to think about his parents. They certainly wouldn't have been happy to see him, and his mother might have beaten him up. He looked at his hand. There were several deep cuts on it, which had already turned into terrible scars, which were so fiercely mocked by his classmates.

He sighed.

"Hey, little guy?" a loud but slightly hoarse voice was heard. Tom's eyes widened and he began to quicken his pace. He didn't want to run into drunk adults.

However, the boy did not have time to run away. He could hear those menacing footsteps. It seems that there were even several of them. Tom swallowed, starting to run.

"Actually, I'm talking to you, boy," he felt a large hand fall on his shoulder and a weightless shiver run down his spine. He began to take sharp breaths and tried to pull away. "And you're handsome" whispered in the face of the unknown guy.

He stroked Tom's face with a rough hand, and leaning even closer, his breath burning, he asked, " What's your name?"

"T-tom-m," he stammered, tilting his head further down and lifting his shoulders up. He wanted to hide, hide in some corner, and hope for the best.

"All right, Tom," the guy muttered. "Call me Daddy Alex," he said, smiling prettily. Tom saw the man pull a small object out of his pocket. He swallowed and tried to pull away again, but suddenly he felt a knife pressed against his face.

"P-please," Tom whispered, begging for mercy, starting to burst into tears without even holding back. Suddenly, he felt a slight pain at the corner of his mouth. His gaze snapped back to it and he stifled a silent cry, opening his eyes more.

"Naughty boy Tommy," the man muttered sweetly, his hands shaking and barely controlling his movements. "Never mind, Daddy Alex will punish you."

And Tom suddenly felt a new pain on her cheek. He screamed, choking on his tears, but no one even paid attention to his cry. The pain continued to grow. It was getting stronger.

"I'm singing in the rain

Just singing in the rain, " Alex sang softly, starting to press down on Tom's cheeks again. He just started crying again.

***

The Joker quickly shook his head, regaining control of Thomas ' body. He spends too much time on it.

In fact, the Joker played a noble man for Tom, which will always help him, but at some time the Joker got tired of it and decided to show himself real. The way he is.

He blinked a couple of times. Hell, no. Joker grabbed the green hair and just started pulling it back. Damn, damn, damn. Damn people. He practically growled.

"M-Mr. Joker, are you all right," a quiet, calm, but slightly frightened voice suddenly sounded. Oh, the Joker sighed. Beautiful voice. He raised his blue eyes, which he thought were disgusting, and looked into his favorite eyes. The eyes of his beautiful angel.

"It's all right, my angel, it's all right," Joker muttered, getting up from the hard chair where he had been sitting meekly.

He started to approach the terrified man to his beloved angel. He tilted his head slightly. Why did his angel continue to fear him? After all, all he does is give her his affection and love, which he tried to express with great feelings.

"My angel," he almost whispered in a soft voice, drawing closer and closer to his angel. My favorite angel.

He continued to hold in his hands and hiding behind his large and strong back a gift in the form of a book. He was sure she would be glad of it.

"I brought you a gift," he raised one eyebrow and sighed, gathering his full strength as he handed the gift to his angel.

He watched her face. The way she frowns, trying her eyes and trying to see the book. She picked up the gift with a polite smile. However, what the Joker didn't like was the fear seeping out of her eyes. Why does she continue to be afraid? He had done everything for her!

He tensed his face and clenched the hand he had already gloved into a sore and strong fist. He didn't particularly want to show his innocent angel his ugly and disgusting hands.

"Jane Eyre?" his angel whispered softly. He could feel the fear radiating from her. Didn't she like it? Was she hoping for something less romantic? Idiot, fucking idiot. "Thank you," came the soft voice from his angel again, and he looked closely at her unforgettable face, seeing the note of gratitude in it. Does she like books like that?

His face brightened slightly and he smiled as he continued to look down at his angel. That's fine.

"My angel, would you like to read to me? I so want to hear your sweet voice, " the Joker whispered, leaning down and stroking his gloved hand over his angel's cheek.

He felt the startled gaze on him again, but he only took a deep breath and moved away from his angel. Her suspicious gaze struck him to the heart.

He quickly went to the soft bed where his angel was sleeping and where he would soon be sleeping and sat down on it, waving his hand in the direction of his angel, who was watching his behavior in confusion.

He pointed to his knee and waved at her, as if beckoning her to sit down. The Joker felt as if he wanted to resist him, but he didn't say anything about it, because she immediately sent him to the specified place. On the Joker's lap.

He felt that it was quite light. His angel didn't eat enough? Her diet was well established. He personally saw to it.

"Go ahead, my angel," the Joker whispered in his ear in a hoarse voice, letting out a small chuckle and beginning to stroke his angel's disheveled hair. How soft, he suppressed a groan.

16 notes · View notes