#jaredleto joker fan fic

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader - Strictly Business Part 3

Hi guys, thanks for your patience on my writing!

Here's the next part  hope you enjoy!

As always, thank you for all the feedback I get and the really sweet messages people send me - you all keep me going so THANK YOU SOO MUCH!!! :D

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Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

STRICTLY BUSINESS MASTERLIST

Once the police had given the room the all clear and we were free to resume our activities, I left. I wasn’t in the mood to be around these people anymore - after the only person’s company I had wanted was gone – and he’d been a psychopathic killer. So I headed straight home, leaving Mathew to continue his schmoozing by himself – he wouldn’t miss me anyway.

Once back at my flat, I made sure to lock the door behind me before I circled my flat, checking all the windows were down and securely latched – I wasn’t taking any chances. I doubted the Joker would choose to hit anywhere else tonight with the police now on high alerts for any sign of his whereabouts, but I couldn’t be too safe – I had tricked the man after all - even if I had then given him an escape route – and wasn’t sure how he would take it.

Once I was sure I had done what I could to make myself secure, I flicked the TV on as I headed towards the kitchen, grabbing the open bottle of wine from the fridge that I had started the night before. The news channel played behind me on the screen as I poured myself a glass of wine, the current story reporting on the restoration project underway at city hall.

The report finished, and the presenter now turned to the new big story – the live coverage of the tonight’s events. “At least 12 men have been arrested tonight at the St. George’s hotel -” I perked up instantly, grabbing my glass and turning to lean on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room area. “- after the police were tipped off by an anonymous caller about a possible hit planned on the two-hundred-year-old building. It was believed the men were working for the Arkham Asylum escapee and well-known crime lord known as Joker – their targets being the leaders and CEOs of many of Gotham’s multi-billion-dollar companies that were gathered in one of the large ballrooms for hire in the hotel.

“The criminals’ leader - the Joker - was unfortunately not apprehended at the event - reports from eye witness suggest the criminal clown had been residing in the ballroom chosen for the attack and escaped via the fire escape before police could arrive on the scene. The mentally unstable criminal was last seen making a getaway across the rooftops of the neighbouring buildings. Helicopters are believed to now be sweeping Gotham and police urge anyone with evidence or sightings if the villain to come forward, however extreme caution is urge and it is strongly encouraged to by no means confront the criminal. Detective De-“

I turned off the TV, not wanting to hear what that police had to say about it – doubting it would be much more than their usual promise to capture the criminals still at large which continued to terrorize the streets of Gotham – which of course they rarely fulfilled.

I was oddly relieved the Joker hadn’t been apprehended – though I had highly doubted that he would be, thanks to the exit route I had provided – the police not yet having time to organise themselves to cover the fire exit on the top floor. The Joker had obviously caught onto the idea I had and made sure to quickly stray from the stairs that led down to the street, instead remaining amongst the rooftops and disappearing into the night before air support had managed to arrive.

I down the rest of my wine glass quickly, dropping it into the sink for later and heading to bed. I remembered to grab a blanket out of the cupboard in the bedroom, tossing it onto the back of the sofa for Mathew when he finally got home.

It wasn’t that we couldn’t sleep in the same bed together – Mathew just rarely left the office before ten or eleven and events like tonight could leave him out till the early hours. When he did finally return to the flat, he had a habit of sitting down with a drink continuing to look through the papers he had brought back from the office until he fell asleep at his desk or on the sofa.

In an attempt to play the role of a supportive wife, I had tried to stay up with him a few times, but I had no wish to spend any more hours staring at numbers on a sheet of paper – getting enough of that during work. I couldn’t even talk to Mathew – he had no focus for anything his work and no conversation was possible that didn’t involve the recent profits or increased taxes and - even then -  he tended to be talking to himself.

The last few times I had tried to stay up with I wound up sat in the armchair next to him twiddling my thumb or reading till I dropped my book from exhaustion. It was a pointless exercise – Mathew didn’t care if I was there or not.

I had soon learnt I couldn’t change him and just made do with going to bed alone,  it wasn’t like I was a pathetic girl that needed her man next to her each night – hell I’d lived on my own for a long time, most of it in a far worst apartment, in a far worse neighbourhood.

And it wasn’t like I needed him for anything else – I had never found the man that attractive really and apart from our wedding night and whenever he felt like it – not that often – we really didn’t sleep together much either.

I had soon learnt that living with Mathew was like living with any other roommate. And that was kind of how I view our marriage. We were friends and roommates. Rarely lovers, never in love.

It wasn’t too bad, it suited us both fine.

Mathew wasn’t usually home when I went to bed - and he was usually gone before I woke up - so now I just left a blanket and a pillow on the sofa and left him to it. I wasn’t sure if he appreciated the gesture or not - having never heard a word from him about it. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he thought these items materialised of their own accord for him.

I sighed loudly as I threw his pillow across the room so it hit the couch – landing awkwardly on the cushion so it balanced dangerously on the edge, close to falling off - before I headed back into the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind me.

 I woke the next morning to find the usual – a clearly slept-on sofa, the blanket thrown carelessly back and the pillow at some point knocked the floor. What never ceased to amaze me was how the sofa could be in such a mess, yet his suit was also neatly hung on the bathroom door across the room. I rolled my eyes when I spotted the jacket on its hanger, ignoring it as I tidied up the rest of the mess – he could put that away.

My usual morning routine went with a hitch, only finally hitting the first problem of the day when I headed down to my car which was parked in the underground carpark below my building.

My car wouldn’t start.

I frowned at it as I tried over and over again to start the engine, the car coughing and producing a feeble growl before it died once more.

“Errrr!” I growled at the steering wheel, clenching my teeth, “Come on!” I cried at it, smacking the edge of it. I glanced down at my watch – shit. I didn’t have time to get someone to come fix it right now - I hadn’t factored a broken down car into my morning and if I didn’t get on the road right now I’d be late my meeting at 9.

I smacked the wheel one more time, angrily grumbling at the useless contraption before I got out and headed onto the street above – I’d catch a cab and phone the repairman once I got to work to arrange for them to come by that evening to sort my car out.

I managed to hail a cab quite quickly and I slid into the back seat, calling the address to the driver, my attention already focused on my work phone where I had just refreshed my inbox and already had more emails than I could possibly read in a day. The taxi moved off as I settled into the well-worn seats, starting the huge job of responding to each message that truly needed my input.

I got so engrossed in a series of emails about a possible glitch in our systems, that I didn’t notice the journey or the scenery of Gotham that flew past us. It was only as I finally signed off on an email trying to clear things up, that I realised I felt as though I’d been in this car a lot longer than usual. I frowned to myself - maybe just answering the email had felt like forever. I glanced at the clock on my phone - I was late for my meeting.

“Shit.” I mumbled to myself. It was odd though, I didn’t remember us being stuck in that much traffic for me to be this late. I looked out my window try to figure out how much longer we would be.

That was even odder – hadn’t that been Gotham General we’d just past? It couldn’t be. The hospital was nearly on the other side of town to the INK building.

I kept my gaze out of the window as a few non-descript buildings flashed past. No, I had been right because there was the East-side bridge – I knew those larger, gothic pillars anywhere.

Shit. Maybe I’d said the wrong address in my rush? But where else would I have said? Maybe the driver had just heard me wrong?

“Um, excuse me?” I asked, leaning forward and peering across at the driver, his face hidden by his peculiar old fedora-like hat. “I think you must have the wrong address.” I said, trying to remain polite - though I was worrying about how I was going to save this meeting now I was already over 15 minutes late.

The car suddenly swerved across 2 lanes of traffic, and I was forced to grip the head rest of the empty chair in front of me to stop myself from flying.

“Change of plan doll face!” Came an all too familiar voice from the driver’s seat. “We’re going for a drive!” He exclaimed, and I could hear the grin in his voice.

I immediately jerked backwards and he let out a loud cackle, taking a hand off the wheel to remove the odd hat and reveal his vibrant green hair, ruffled and messy from the confinement. He looked up at the rear-mirror and met my eyes, his own shining in humour at the shock that must have been on my face. He ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back into place, though a few strands resisted and fell across his face. I could feel my heart pounding at the surprise and I tried to push myself as inconspicuously as possibly into the opposite corner of the car - I didn’t want him to know that I was terrified of being caught unawares with him in such an enclosed space – especially after I had managed to make a fool of him last night.

“You look like you’ve see a ghost, kitten,” He told me with mock worry, “Or maybe a clown!” He suggested, beaming widely at me through the mirror. I tried to regain my composure, remaining silent, but fixing him hard, unimpressed stare.

“Where are you taking me?” I asked firmly, not letting him get to me.

Joker rolled his eyes at me, dropping his smile, his gaze becoming hard and almost deadly as he suddenly slammed on the brakes, causing me to fly forward into the chair in front. Just as suddenly he then swerved to the left - throwing me to the opposite side of the car – and rapidly accelerated, undertaking a lorry before swinging back into the original lane once more.

He glanced back at the mirror, his grin back in place and so wide it almost made him look in pain, “Come on, doll – it’s a joke – laugh a little!” He beamed at me. I didn’t laugh though, just kept up my hard stare, refusing to be intimidated by his driving and refusing to look away even if his blue eyes weren’t holding mine in their iron grasp.

“You know I could just call the police, right?” I asked, waving my phone at him that was still in my hand.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, kitten,” He began before violently jerking the wheel to the right, then almost instantly jerking it back again – only just missing the car on our right - “I’m not exactly trying to hide!” He cried manically, swinging the car smoothly into the left lane and slamming his foot onto the accelerator, causing the engine to roar before we then shot forward.

Though I felt myself grip the car seat beneath me, I couldn’t help the thrill that ran through me – the wanton disregard for traffic laws and the reckless speed was exciting and quite an adrenaline rush – something I hadn’t experienced in years.

The Joker didn’t let up on the gas and we continued to speed down the streets, the Joker appearing to barely be in control of the car, yet still managing to avoid every car in the rush hour traffic – though some quite narrowly. I wasn’t sure how many car accidents we created in our wake as we flew down the road, but the adrenaline coursing through me was making it hard not to grin and a small voice in the back of my mind kept daring the Joker to go faster - almost intrigued at the thought of a collision - be it us or someone else.

Suddenly a red stop light appeared at the cross junction ahead of us and I watched in a mixture of fear and excitement as we barrelled down the main road to where traffic to the left and right were already flooding through, the Joker not letting up on our speed. I couldn’t see us stopping in time now if the Joker didn’t brake soon and I wanted to close my eyes but I couldn’t - too transfixed on the cars in front that were rushing up to meet us. Suddenly I was flung forward once more into the passenger seat in front of me as Joker slammed the brake on hard. I clung to the chair in front of me as we skidded to a halt exactly on the white line – only a few inches from the rest of the rushing traffic.

I didn’t realise I had been holding my breath but I let it go now in a short exhale as I unwrapped my fingers from where I had dug them into the passenger seat in front of me, my heart pounding erratically at the near-death experience.

“Besides, doll.” The Joker perked up from the front seat, looking completely unfazed at what had just happened. “I have a rag and a bottle of chloroform up here if you’re not willing to be my friend.” He grinned, wide and cheesy at me as though he hadn’t just threatened to knock me out. I was still recovering from the close call and didn’t say anything, just stared back at him warily as to whether he had been joking or not – I suspected not.

The light turned green in front of us and Joker hit the gas again causing the tires to screech and squeal underneath us before we accelerated viciously out into the junction. Joker swung the car to the right, causing the tail to flick out dangerously into the lane next to us and at least one car had to swerve to avoid us. I prayed the car could hold up the hell Joker was putting it through and the wheels not suddenly decide to burst under the fierce demands.

I settled back against my seat as we barrelled down a relatively open piece of road, the car falling into silence. I tried not to enjoy the freedom of the racing down the streets – knowing it was clearly illegal and wrong – instead trying to focus on a way out of this situation.

I had accepted there was nothing I could say or do to the Joker to get him to let me go and I watched the flats and offices blur past my window, my fingers anxiously fiddling with my phone that still sat in my hand as I tried to think. I looked down at the black screen and suddenly had a small piece of a plan. I place my phone down on the seat next to me so it was hidden between the car door and my leg, hopefully out of sight thanks to the shield of my thigh.

I glanced back up at the Joker to check he wasn’t watching, but his eyes were still on the road as we continued to break the speed limit, the ride much smoother now he felt he’d scared me enough with his erratic driving.

Content, I turned my attention back to window next to me, resuming my absent stare, typing out a message to my husband out of the corner of my eye – glad that I’d sent so many messages from my phone that I could basically type a whole paragraph with my eyes shut.

It wasn’t much when I had finished, but at least it was something – maybe at least someone would find my body after all of this, I thought in mocking cheer. At least it conveyed my situation as well I could for now. I hit the send button and returned my entire concentration back onto the streets outside where the usual rainy weather of the city had once again begun, large drops of water spotting the almost-dry pavement.

Suddenly the Joker let out a low growl of annoyance and I turned my attention back to him as he rolled his neck, his jaw clenched. I could feel my heart already pounding, he suddenly looked dangerous, completely different from the joking man he’d been a moment ago.

Suddenly he violently swung the car off the road and I grabbed at my seat to avoiding being thrown around again. The car jerked as we mounted the pavement and I tried to make out where we were going but all I could see was the side of a building rushing towards us. I braced for the impact I knew I couldn’t survive, hiding my face this time. When I didn’t feel anything, I snapped my head back up only to see the rest of the road disappearing behind us as the tires screeched in protest and we cornered sharply into an alleyway.

Once the car was safely concealed between the two protective brick walls the Joker snapped the clutch in place and was out the door before I could register we had even stopped.

My mind quickly caught onto what was happening as Joker made his way round to the door closest to me. I snapped my seatbelt off and shuffled across the back seat, positioning myself as best I could. As soon as I heard the lock mechanism click I kicked out as hard as I could against the door. I felt it connect with the Joker and cause him to stumble backwards slightly. I made the most of the small moment I had and scrambled out of the car, immediately making an attempt to run out of the alley and back onto the main street where there was a slim chance I might find help or at least shelter.

I didn’t make it more than a few strides however, before I felt a hand catch hold of the back of my jacket, fingers entangling in my long hair that fanned out behind in the wind. He yanked me easily backwards, my feet slipping on the wet pavement underfoot, and shoved me backwards till I was pinned up against one of the walls of the alley by his body, on of this hands at my throat.

I struggled against his hold but I soon had to concede that he was too strong for me to do anything but tire myself out and the more I struggled the tighter his grip on my throat got, making it hard to breathe.

“You didn’t want to be my friend, doll, hmm?” He asked, his voice gravelly and his breathing harsh through his open mouth, “Or did you, hmm? But your morals are just too strong?” He grinned manically down at me, his eyes alight with understanding and I felt like he already knew me better than I did.

“Do what you want!” I snarled at him, “Now people know what’s happened to me and you can’t change that!”

His grip on my throat tightened even more and I squirmed again rubbing my back raw on the rough brick behind me as I tried in in vain to free my arms from where they were pinned under his body.

“Oh, I don’t want to change that, kitten.” He told with a slight airy chuckle as though I was a fool. “People need to know you’re gone, doll…” He breathed down at me, “…for the plan to work.” He grinned, his metal teeth clear and evident against his red lips inches from my face.

“You should know, doll – it is your plan after all.” He said, dipping his head to look up at me through his eye lashes, his invisible eyebrows raised - as though he was shocked I hadn’t caught on yet.

That’s when it clicked with me – he was kidnapping me to complete the plan I had suggested to him the night before. Shit. Why did I say anything to him yesterday? Why couldn’t I just keep my mouth shut? Everyone planned the little criminal things they’d do if they could – why had I shared mine? What was it about the man in front of me that made so reckless and giddy?

“Now, all I need for you to do is breathe….” The Joker growled at me lowly, bringing a rag up to my face in his free hand. I tried one last ditch attempt to get away but I knew it was hopeless before I had even started and, when the cloth finally enveloped my mouth and nose, I resigned myself to my fate and inhaled deeply, drowsiness soon overcoming me.

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

(Again - let me know if you don't want to be tagged in this series - I just used my Deadly Voice tags because I figure its a similar genre!)

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader Deadly Voice Part 33

Heya!

Next bits ready - i apologise now - I have no idea what i was doing when I wrote this and I feel like I went off on a bit of a tangent! haha It got a bit dark towards the end!

Maybe i should rename this fic because i really think it should just be called Reader - there is so little Joker in it!

I am really sorry - he will be back next chapter i promise and I will make sure future writing series will have much more of him in it - this is my first one so I got a bit carried away with just my general writing!

ALSO - sorry its soooooo long again - got carried away!

Anyway - hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Strong language

Masterlist

We drove in silence except for the occasional direction from Frost which was hissed out through his clenched teeth, which were bared against the pain in his neck as he kept the wound on his scalp pressed against the sodden bandage on the head rest behind him. I tried to avoid any pot holes and raised pieces of roads to prevent jolting Frost too much, but even so I could still hear the sharp gasps every now and then that he tried to stifle and I cringed in apology.

Several times throughout the journey I had to double check my mirrors, convinced I had caught flashes of purple behind me or in the street across from at crossroads.

Maybe it was paranoia. Whenever I had glanced back there was no colour to be seen - just the usual grey tones of Gotham. But even if there had been a car was that really unusual? People were allowed to have coloured cars. I wasn’t even completely sure it had been purple – maybe it had just been an odd shade of blue?

When we finally reached the old derelict neighbourhood where Marv resided I couldn’t help sinking down into my car seat slightly - now feeling even more vulnerable than usual as I was in control of the car and my protector was badly wounded and losing a lot of blood.

I pulled up outside the same run-down house as we had earlier that same day and I hesitated as I went to open my door - checking both ways down the street for signs of anyone I would rather avoid. There were 3 men loitering around another house down the street but they were quite far away that I didn’t feel too worried about them, however I still tried to make as little noise as possible as I slipped out of the vehicle – not wanting to draw too much attention to myself and the SUV which was probably the most expensive car around here. I made my way round to Frost’s side and offered him a hand as he opened the door. He completely ignored my aid and I scowled at his stubbornness as he moved past me and towards the chipping door. I followed behind him as usual and stuck close to him, glancing nervously around the area, as he knocked and waited for a response. After a few moments I could just make out the creaking of floorboards as someone made their way down the corridor. Then they stopped, yet the door still didn’t open.

“Marv.” Frost called out in an almost bored tone - like he had the last time we’d been here – maybe this was some sort of security measure?

There was a moment of hesitation after Frost spoke and then the door swung inwards to reveal Marv once more. “Frost!” He exclaimed in surprise, “Back again? Did Jake not-“ Then he took in Frost’s appearance, noticing the makeshift bandage wrapped around his neck and the blood splatters on his shirt. “Jesus.” He breathed, “What happened?!”

“Do you mind if I come in?” Inquired Frost bluntly, ignoring the questions.

“Damn Man, sure.” He muttered glancing into the back of the house and stepping to the side, ushering Frost through. Frost stepped forward so that Marv suddenly caught side of me, no longer hidden behind Frost’s bulky frame.

“Oh – uh – you too?” he directed at me, gesturing into the house with his thumb.

“Uh…” I hesitated on the spot, looking at Frost as he stopped in the doorway and turned to me, trying to figure out what was best to do, “Uh – No. I’ll just – I think I’ll go.” I stammered, suddenly feeling very out of place among the two large henchman in this rather dodgy area.

“You sure?” Asked Frost

“Uh… Yeah.” I said - sounding anything but sure. I was very aware of my situation at the moment. Here I was a tiny little girl stood before these two huge intimidating men, one of whom was offering his house to me. Sure I had come to see Frost as almost a friend, but now I was brought sharply to the realisation that he wasn’t really – I barely knew the man – I had just been following him around like a lost puppy.

Marv was his friend. They were both terrifying criminals to anyone else - and they should be to me. I didn’t belong here and I wasn’t going to force my company on them anymore than I already had. Marv could take care of Frost much better than I could – and Frost was less likely to refuse his aid It was time I returned to normal. No longer pretending to be something or someone I wasn’t.

“Here.” I said holding out the keys to the SUV to Frost. He didn’t move, just looked at my hand, I frown of confusion on his face.

“No.” He said, shaking his head – soon regretting it and wincing at the pain. “You keep it.” He told me eventually when his face had relaxed slightly.

“I don’t particularly want a stolen car traced back to me thanks.” I reasoned, not withdrawing my outstretched hand, instead shaking the keys at him in insistence.

“And you don’t want to be wandering alone in this neighbourhood.” Argued Frost. I wavered a bit then, slightly lowering my arm as I looked down the street either side of me. It was true. The sun was already fading in the sky as we spoke and the place alone was enough to unsettle me in broad daylight. “Take it at least to get out of here. Then do what you want with it – dump it somewhere and forget about it.” Frost advised and I thought this through before nodding in agreement and pulling my hand back.

I dithered for a moment – unsure if I should just leave or if Frost was going to say anything else. I wanted him to say something. I wanted him to insist I stayed with him – though I wasn’t sure why he’d want me to. I had gotten used to having him around, having someone to look out for me, a friend. It was actually hard to think about the fact that we were going our separate ways - I had no plans to ever see him again. There was no need anymore.

I forced a smile at him, “Well, good bye Frost.” I mumbled, suddenly feeling very awkward and shy. This was hard. He didn’t say anything so I turned and began to walk back to the car.

“Y/N!” He called after me. I looked over my shoulder at him in surprise; he had stood fully in the doorway now, facing me directly. Marv had left us to it and gone back inside – whether of his own volition or by Frost’s command, I wasn’t sure. “Where do you plan to go?” he asked

I was surprised at the question – not what I expected to hear. “Uh – I don’t know. I’ll figure something out.”

“Are you staying in Gotham?” he asked, his face a calm mask but I thought I caught of glimmer of something in his stony expression.

I paused as I thought about this.

“Yeah.” I admitted. “I think I’ll stay.”

We had parted soon after I had confirmed I would remain in Gotham. I did as Frost had suggested, taking the car back towards the centre of the city and parking up in a small alley along the boundaries where the buildings were mainly warehouses or old seedy businesses. Still not the best area, but somewhere that a stolen car would be expected to be found and only a short walk – or an even shorter run – to get to a more populated area. Either way I still gripped my newly acquired knife in my hand as I moved through the darkening streets back to the still-bustling centre.

As the streetlights began to flicker on overhead I caught a bus to take me to the nearest affordable hotel where I soon collapsed onto a lumpy single-bed mattress - the exhaustion of the day finally hitting me full on.

It had been a long day. A really long day. I thought as I lay led out on the thin duvet, realising I hadn’t stopped all since I had left with Frost late this morning.

I closed my eyes, drinking in the fact that I was finally alone, allowing the tension from my face to release so that I was fully relaxed for the first time in a very long time.

I was back home. Gotham.

If only I had a home though. I thought glumly, not just this dingy little room. I frowned as I looked around at the drab décor, wrinkling my nose at the musty smell that seemed to hang in the air. It would have to do for tonight. Tomorrow I could get my life together. It wasn’t worth worrying about tonight.

And so it was like that – fully dressed and spread out on top of the covers of the tiny hotel bed – that I fell into an exhausted sleep.

It wasn’t a restful sleep however. I never truly awoke in the night, only tossing and turning, continuously haunted by the Joker’s unsettling smile, his gaunt, hollow face and his ringing cackle. Every time I was close to consciousness I would be dragged back down by him until I once more stood before him, my gun in his hand, aiming at my chest.

Each time I would turn to run and see Jake Riggens stood across the room and I would run to him, grabbing his arms and pulling him with me as I tried to run past, screaming that we had to run. Instead he would hold firm to his spot, not speaking a word and grab my arms, twisting them behind my back, so I was trapped in front of him, as the Joker stalked towards me, now holding his knife once more that was supposedly in my pocket.

He grinned at me like the devil himself as he prowled towards me, tossing the knife between his hands, the pointed tip never leaving my direction. Behind him I noticed Penguin just stood there watching the whole scene, a devious smile on his face like this was his favourite past time. 

I was grateful when I finally woke up at 5am. Deciding this was a suitable time to call morning as I rubbed dried tears from my face and breathed hard from the night terrors.

I sat in bed for a long time, staring mindlessly at the ceiling as I ran over the events of the day before – not truly believing I hadn’t just dreamed that up as well.

How could one person be so idiotic?!

Why had I just up and left my new life? Why did one murderous lunatic warrant me travelling hundreds of miles without even a spare change of clothes? And – surprise, surprise – upon finally seeing me again he had threatened to kill me!

But then he had kissed me. And boy had he kissed me.

I was content then to just lack back on my lumpy mattress in the middle of that dank hotel room reliving those few seconds over and over - trying to remember every detail, every movement, every feeling. Hell I couldn’t feel guilty loving every second of it if no one ever knew.

But it had been too short, too fleeting.

And then he had gone.

Just like that.

Why?

Had he heard Frost coming and thought it best to just leave? It didn’t seem like something he’d do - but then he didn’t seem completely himself recently.

It had felt like something had snapped in him in the kiss though. At the start it felt like any other – wonderful, but nothing compared to a few seconds later. It was like something had suddenly flared up, like he had suddenly realised he wasn’t dreaming - that I was real and he was going to make the most of it.

But that would mean he’d have to care about me. And he didn’t. The Joker didn’t care about anything.

I shook my head. That was enough with that. Talking myself around in circles was not going to get anything productive done – it was just going to give me a headache.

It was time to starting living in the real world. I needed a house and I needed a job.

So I spent the rest of the day traversing Gotham for jobs, cycling through newspapers, websites and wanted ads for anything I could apply for. First and foremost I hoped to return to what I truly wanted to do – my singing. I missed it more than I realised and now that I was back in Gotham I felt a new inspiration to continue it - though beggars couldn’t be choosers, so in the end I would happily take anything.

I ended up applying to 4 clubs that had openings for entertainers. Most of the city was owned by the various crime lords – they seemed to particularly favour the nightlife professions – so I was careful to do my research on each application so that I didn’t find myself working once more for one of the big criminal groups either directly or indirectly.

I was surprised when all 4 of them offered me the job – had they known me from when I had worked for Penguin? I eventually chose the smallest, most inconspicuous club, not wanting to draw any more attention to myself than necessary in anyway.

I managed to find a small one bed flat, not too dear and not too far from it either. For the first time in a while I finally felt like my life was getting back on track and in some state of order. I was going to be fine.

And I was for the first few weeks.

I soon discovered that – apart from my boss – most people at my new job hated me. It was a weird feeling – I’d never had such a large number of people dislike me for what seemed no apparent reason and I often felt like I had a million holes in me from the amount of dagger-eyes the other entertainers shot at me.

My boss – Darren - soon enlightened me on their resentment. “They’re all jealous really.” He explained, “You’re a really good singer and they resent you showing them all up.” I was shocked at this but Darren wouldn’t take my modesty as he explained how surprised he had been when I took his offer as I was rather overqualified for the position in such a small, relatively shabby little club.

But it was what I needed right now. I didn’t want to be in the limelight, I didn’t want to be a huge well-known entertainer. I just wanted to make enough money to live off and do the thing I loved. So this place was perfect.

Darren didn’t complain, even if I didn’t want to famous I still had managed to increase the patronage of the club and was quite glad really because the place sure needed the money – it had definitely seen better days and could use with a new lick of paint here and there. I guess that’s what you got for being one of the only clubs not to be owned by a millionaire criminal.

Darren was even more surprised I stayed because of the way the others treated me. He never did anything about it – though I didn’t blame him for that – I could understand why, what was the point in possible losing everyone over just one employee? Even if I was a good singer.

But I stayed anyway. It didn’t make my job the best place in the world, but I wasn’t there to make friends, really, and I didn’t bother trying. At the moment I was just trying to get a handle back on my life once again.

And so we all got on as well as we could. I knew they spoke about me behind my back and often tried to make my life as hard as possible, but I dealt with it. I didn’t protest when I was the one that suddenly got stuck with all the knitty-gritty jobs or when the room fell into a silence when I walked in. I generally ignored them and in return they eventually ignored me.

That was until one night - just after all the live entertainment for the evening had finished – I was in the changing room/general staff room getting change out of my performance attire. Because the club was so small there were two ‘backstage’ rooms – the slightly larger room I was in now which had a couple of wardrobes and dividers in the back corner and a few sofas, desks and cupboards – and a small office leading off from it which belonged to Darren.

I was currently behind one of the dividers, pulling on my last trainer as I got ready to head home when I heard people moving down the corridor. I recognised the high voices and girly laughs quickly and – sure enough – in walked Netty and Rebecca. They were both performers who did and act with a couple other girls and had just finished their set which went on after mine. I watched them through the gap between the panels of the flimsy partition as they paused in front of one of the sofas, not realising I was in the room and so carrying on their conversation without hesitation.

“I mean I knew she was a slut by the way she dresses but I would never had thought little [Y/N] would do that!” Rebecca cackled. I could guess she was talking about me before she had even said my name and I brushed off the ‘slut’ insult without a care, thought I was intrigued by what I had supposedly done that was so shocking to her.

“I honestly can’t believe it.” Said Netty, tittering away with her.

“Wait till I tell Darren – he won’t want her hanging around here anymore.” Rebecca giggled maliciously. I frowned through the fissure at them - what was she going on about? I wanted to reveal myself and confront them but I knew that they might not tell me what this secret of mine was if I gave myself away too soon.

“Whatta’ya gonna tell him?” Asked Netty in awe of Rebecca and her scandalous behaviour – honestly she was like a little child following the ‘cool kid’ around. I rolled my eyes at the pure desperation in front of me.

“The whole thing.” Stated Rebecca importantly, “He’s got a right to know that he hired the Joker’s little whore!” she explained.

That was it. This comment caused something to snap in me and I strode out from my hiding place making both girls jump at my sudden appearance. Netty’s face remaining worried, but – upon recognising me – Rebecca grinned deviously at me. “And here she is now – spying like the little snake she is.” She said snidely.

“Shut up” I growled at her, my face stormy and my jaw clenched against my growing temper – all the anger I had suppressed over the last few weeks at these people that had derided and mocked me finally bubbling to the surface.

“Oh, but I don’t think I will.” She sneered. “Bitch.” She added on for good measure, happy to outright insult me now she was so certain she could get me fired. Her pure attitude infuriated me and if looks could kill she would have been lying bloodied on the floor.

“If you don’t -“ I started but she interrupted me again as Netty watched on.

“You’ll what?” She asked rhetorically, “Cos you see my dear,” she patronised, stepping towards, her heels clacking on the laminated floor, “I know you’re dirty little secret`” She purred, pointing her manicured finger at me “– you’re little exploits with that psycho clown that runs around town.” You really think Darren’ll want you around when he finds out the kinda crowd you attract?” She asked, raising her eyebrows at me like the idea was completely ridiculous.

“I have nothing to do with the Joker anymore.” I told her through gritted teeth, her words starting to eat at me. “I haven’t seen him in months.” That was a lie, it had only been about 4 weeks, but the meeting had only been for a few minutes.

“Yes dear,” She said stepping closer so she was invading my personal space in an attempt to intimidate me. “but we all know that the mad little clown doesn’t forget his toys.” Rebecca cooed, pouting and tilting her head in pity at my apparent stupidity, “He doesn’t leave them alone till they are dead does he? No matter how many people he takes out in the process.” She explained. “And we all know what happened at the Purple Umbrella don’t we?” She asked turning to Netty who faltered - too wrapped up in the dialogue of her heroine to realise she had been addressed – before she eagerly nodded in agreement. “So why,” Rebecca snapped, spinning back to me, “would Darren wanna risk that, hmm?”

Maybe she was right, I thought as I looked away from her hard, cold eyes. The Joker didn’t just leave loose threads around. People who dealt with him always had one final ending – corpse or missing corpse. It was always just a game as to how long you could last.

The Joker had yet to come looking for me once more, but surely it was just a matter of time before he turned up again – whether to continue our weird little relationship or to finally end it completely. Would he find me here? Could I risk it? If he did I might well be threatening Darren’s business and livelihood? He was a good guy - who was I to risk ruining his life just because I needed a job?

“You know what I don’t get?” Piped up Rebecca once more, breaking through my panicky thoughts, “What did you even see in that creep? I mean sure he’s fit for a freaky jester,” She admitted flicking her hand in the air, far too close to my face. I could feel the temper that had simmered down from my sobering thoughts begin to bubble once more – even stronger than before.  “but the guy’s an insane murderer who dresses like a clown – I mean how desperate were you to sleep with him?”

I was sick of hearing her talk like this about me or him. Sick of holding back my fury that prickled my skin and tensed my muscles.  She wouldn’t have the balls to talk like this if the Joker was in the room with her – she was only brave behind people’s back when she knew she wouldn’t get the consequences of her actions.

“Do you share lipstick?” She continued babbling on in her condescending tone.

“SHUT UP!” I roared at her.

“I mean is it some weird kink you have?” She continued, not listening to me.

The next thing I knew I had launched at her, shoving us both across the room and up against the opposite wall, my left arm against her chest, pinning her up whilst, my right hand held the Joker’s blade up against her neck, “Will you just shut your bloody mouth!” I yelled at her. It felt so good to finally let that out I couldn’t help chuckling to myself.

Her eyes were wild with fear and she kept glancing between my enraged face and the knife pressed to her skin. “YOU- YOU’RE CRAZY!” She screamed at me. “NETTY! HELP!” She called at the petrified girl behind me. Netty looked at Rebecca’s beseeching face before glancing at my somewhat manic face and the knife in my hand, the fear clear and evident in her eyes as she choose to remain in place.

I smirked wickedly in triumph before turning back to Rebecca. “No help now.” I told her leaning in so I was close to her cheek, “Bitch.” I mimicked in a whisper, glad to be returning the same invasion of space she had to me, and upping it somewhat. I leant back and noticed how erratic her breathing was under my knife and it pleased me, feeling the grin spread across my face. Her eyes were looking at me in horror like she was seeing a demon.

“Please! Stop!” She begged, her chin tilted up away from my weapon and her eyes scrunched in anguish.

“Nah….” I muttered, “People shouldn’t make nasty rumours…” I cooed, mocking her earlier attitude to me and applying more pressure on the blade as her throat continued to rise and fall in large waves of her gasps. I was adrift in the thrill of what I was doing - all compassion and sympathy lost beneath the freedom I was allowing myself.

“PLEASE!” She cried out, beginning to sob as water ran from her closed eyes. “PLEASE! It wasn’t me!” She whimpered. This caught my interest and I tore my eyes away from the red tear of blood forming under the steel to look into her watery eyes.

“What wasn’t you?” I asked, indifferent to the water on her cheeks or the red now slowly trickling down my neck.

“THE RUMOUR!” She yelped before she fell back into her sobs as her movements caused the knife to dig further into her skin.

“Who was it?” I asked calmly, not relaxing the pressure.

She didn’t answer straight away; too busy gasping for air between her blubbering. I twisted my hand  into her dress, grabbing a fistful of material before pulling her towards me and then violently shoving her backwards into the wall. Her head smacked back against the brick behind her, causing it to rebound forward and fall slightly against the edge of the knife - the contact of her skin on the cold steel causing her to shoot back upright. Her face was contorted in pain, but at least she had shut up. “Who was it?!” I spat at her again.

“J-Jake!” She snivelled.

“Jake who?!” I snarled, shaking her slightly as a threat that I wasn’t afraid to repeat her treatment again.

“Jake Riggen!” She cried out hastily before she broke down into tears again.

I released some of the weight I had on her, dropping the knife from her throat in my shock.

Twice. That was twice now that rat had betrayed me.

I felt Rebecca relax slightly under the grip I still had on her dress now that I had removed the weapon. That disappointed me.

I threw my weight back on her so she was shoved tightly up against the wall again, the knife-edge once more pinching into her throat.

“Where is he?!” I snarled.

[thejokersenigma]

Joker (JLeto) x Reader - Request - Plan B(ruce) - Part 1

Hi Guys,

This is a request I was given by the lovely @gemma60 a while ago, and I’ve only just managed to get the first part done!

The request was: The Joker sends the reader to a party that Bruce Wayne is throwing to gain more intel. She actually catches Bruce’s eye and he takes a liking to her and it turns out he is quite charming. One night leads to another and while she is gaining more intel and the Joker is ecstatic about all the intel he realizes Y/N maybe losing sight of the mission and might be becoming too friendly with Bruce.

I apologise for this chapter - it’s really long and tbh the first half of it is kind of completely pointless! haha I got carried away a bit - in a book I might be able to pass it off as character development, but really ther’s not much point in it here I just got a bit carried away that day haha but I’m keeping it anyway - maybe I need it later? haha

Also the title - I’m not sure if I’m keeping it or not - I don’t really know why I chose it, I just came up with it just now - I might change it to somethign more appropriate if I think of something!

Anyway, hope you enjoy the first chapter!

PS If you want to ask for a request feel free to message - ill happily give anything a go for any fandom!

If you would like to be tagged in any of my work, again, just drop me a message somehow and tell me which one!

I would also be really grateful if anyone who reads this would give me a little heart if you like it, or even better tell me something you liked, or didn’t! I always love reading your comments!

Thank you!!!

MASTERLIST

There was a knock at the door behind me. “Hmm?” I called at the door, not bothering to look up from the papers before me. I heard the door open and I shot a glance up to confirm it was Chris stepping into the room. Chris was a large muscular man, his neck the same size circumference as his huge biceps that made it nearly impossible to find him a jacket that fit him – even now I could see the material of his suit stretching dangerous tight across his body. His very appearance was intimidating enough – it was obvious he could likely crush you in his grip alone – but I also knew that the man was carrying at least two guns and a knife at all times.

Chris was a gift from my boyfriend.

“Yes?” I asked briskly, lost in my paperwork and wanting to get back to it, I thought there was something odd in the numbers, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“He’s is on his way here.” Chris said. I nodded at him and he took this as his signal to leave, nodding back and retreating out the door once more, closing it behind him.

I let out a sigh, gathering the papers together and filing them away for later. After that I headed straight out of the office, heading down one flight of stairs to the balcony dining level. Here a large circular balcony encircled the round building, railings separating the diners the yawning hole that overlooked the diners below on the main floor The balcony – and the room below – were currently empty, the cleaners already having been and gone, and service not starting for another few hours yet. I glanced around to check everything was in place, breathing in the usual scent of cleaning polish and disinfectant as I surveyed the dark wood table and chairs. I headed down the large, ornate stair case that led to the main floor from the balcony, rather than taking the staff corridor, and moved amongst the rest of the tables, checking cutlery placement and the state of the many glasses. All impeccable of course.

Finally, I turned my eyes downwards, peering through the see-through floor into the kitchen below my feet. I wasn’t tasteless – the floor wasn’t an omg-the -floor-is-there actually-floor-beneath-my-feet-or-am-I-going-to-fall kind of see-through – but the tiles that made up the floor had a certain transparency to them that allowed diners – and in turn the staff below – see straight through them and make out moving shadows.

What few people knew, however, was that directly above all the dining area, past the balcony, was what appeared to be a solid ceiling, the very centre made of glass that reflected back the scene below. Directly above this large circle of glass, was my office, surrounded then by a few miscellaneous rooms, mainly used for storage. This mirror circle, however, had a twist. It was made of one-way glass. An effective way to allow me to survey the workings of my restaurant.

I headed back toward the staff corridor, taking the next flight of stairs to the kitchens. There was only one floor below this and it was a large storage larder and freezer which held the all our produce.

I looked up at the ceiling as I wandered through the kitchens, noting the shadows of the tables above me. It still amazed me, and I had owned this restaurant for over a year now. I strolled to the centre of the kitchen where a petit woman in a chef’s uniform stood with striking orange tipped hair gelled into spicks on the top of her head, barking orders at the men and woman around her, conducting their assigned activities. “A’ [Y/N]!” She cried, noticing me.

“Evening Bera.” I greeted as I stepped up to her.

“Wa’ cannie do ye fer?” She asked, her Scottish accent strong and clear.

“Felt like getting my hands dirty.” I told her, looking around me at all the busy people slicing, stirring and rushing, the two of us at the centre of the organised chaos. “Just tell me what needs doing.” I said, clapping my hands and rubbing my palms together.

“Aye, ye can ‘elp.” Bera said with a smile and a nod. “I’m low on ‘ans for the desser’…” She said, glancing around, searching for someone “’Ey! ‘arry!” She shouted, here eyes locking on him from across the room and a skinny, pale boy shot his head up in alarm, clearly panicking he had done something wrong and fearing the wrath of Bera. “Boss is goin’ ta ‘elp ya, laddie.” He looked both relieved at this and more panicked, and I couldn’t help chuckling at the poor lads expression. Bera definitely scarred these poor kids, but I couldn’t deny that her methods produced good work.

I made my way other to the lad to find him aggressively beating a large bowl of chocolate mixture. “So, what’s on the menu?” I questioned him and - though he must have known I was there - he jumped at my voice.

“Um – just uh chocolate cake – lava cake.” He clarified. I looked at him blankly. “It’s a – uh – it’s a chocolate sponge with a chocolate middle – which is supposed to melt…” He tried to explain, “Ma’am.” He added for good measure.

I kept my face blank in confusion for a few more moments – long enough to really make the lad sweat - before I let my wide grin spread across my face. “I know what chocolate lava cake is Mr Francis, don’t worry.” He seemed surprised I knew his last name, but he should be, I made it my business to ensure I knew all my employees - and know them well.

I knew that Harry had only been here 2 months now, and previously had little experience with much cooking apart from compulsory lessons at school. I hadn’t interviewed him – I had allowed Bera to do that – and something in him must have appealed to her because that night I had spoken with her and she had strongly recommended me taking on the college dropout who had no qualifications or experience and also no other prospects.

I let her make her case and left her dangling for a while on my response. Though she acted like she didn’t care whether I accepted the boy or not, I knew she had her heart set on him and - if Bera like him that much - I’m sure he had potential.

Poor lad hadn’t realised what he had got himself into.

I looked at him now, sweat on his face, hair messy and - thanks to its length - forced into a ponytail a tiny tuft of a ponytail which was then hidden beneath a shower cap-like hat. I was pretty sure he had lost weight since I had seen him on the day of the interview - not that I was sure he’d had any weight to lose - and I almost felt sorry for him, expect for he was bashing all the air out of the mixture.

“Woah, woah, woah.” I said grabbing at his wrist where he was hand holding onto the wooden spoon and pulverising the mixture. His hand instantly stilled “Be gentle.” I instructed, “You’ve already done the beating for this recipe, this is the folding part.” I emphasised, removing the spoon and bowl from him. “You want to gently scoop and turn.” I said, demonstrating as I scoped the mixture and turned it over, revealing a powdery batch off flour that had been sat at the bottom of the bowl. “See?” I asked, doing the action a few more times and then handing the equipment back to Harry who had been watching my every movement.

His hand was shaky when he reached for the spoon, but he got on with my instructions none the less, copying my movements. I leant my side into the metal counter as he continued, “Harry?” He stopped suddenly looking at me in panic, “No it’s fine, carry on.” I said quickly, gesturing to the bowl. He hesitated for a moment, but then returned to his work. “Do you know why you’re doing what you’re doing there?” I asked, nodding to the bowl, “- the folding rather than beating?” He glanced quickly across at me and then, he shook his head in embarrassment.

“No, ma’am.” He croaked at me.

“You can’t beat it, because you’ll lose all the air from the mixture, then the cake will be dense and chewy. Fold it gently.” I told him calmly, “And you’ll keep the air in the mixture, giving you a nice light and airy sponge.” He nodded along to my lecture, his face showing his concentration and I could tell he actually cared what I was saying. He didn’t want to screw up this job. Good lad.

I watched him as he continued to work the mixture and I couldn’t help my mind traveling back to how lean he was again, “Harry?” He didn’t freeze this time, slowly becoming comfortable with my presence. “Do you even eat desserts?” He didn’t answer straight away, but eventually he shook his head.

I thought that was all that I would get on the subject, but then he took a deep breath “I baked a cake once, about 2 years ago.” He mumbled, keeping his eyes on the batter, “That was the first time I ever made anything like it. I made it for my Mum. For her birthday.” He told me, his voice barely above a whisper and hard to hear in the noise of the busy kitchen. “She never used to let us have sugar – she’s quite a religious lady - in her own crazy way.” He said, trying to make light of it with a quirk of his mouth. “Use to say something about it being a sin – though I can’t remember her reasoning.” He admitted. “Anyway, I had spent a couple of years at boarding school at this point – everyone else ate cake, chocolate and sweets – and I kind of forgot what she used to say. So, when her birthday came around, I decided to make her a cake - didn’t even think anything wrong about it – it was just what people did.” He muttered, forgetting to stir, instead staring down at the mixture, not seeing it, lost in memories. “But when I gave it to her, she threw it straight into the bin, said I was a sinner and a terrible son. I wasn’t allowed to leave church for the whole day – thought one repentance wasn’t enough I guess. Then she refused to let me go back to school. I had to drop out. No one else where would take me after that, they wouldn’t believe why I had to leave.”

I watched in sadness. That was terrible. Poor boy.

“Harry?” I asked quietly, breaking through his reminiscing. He shook himself slightly, returning to his mixing.

“Yes?” He asked.

“If you don’t know how to bake, why does Bera have you managing the dessert?” I asked curiously.

He gave a short bark of laughter that lacked any amusement. “Bera likes to throw me in the deep end, watch me drown and then resuscitated me when I’m a second from death.” He joked. I raised a confused eyebrow at his metaphor. “She’ll get me to make this,” He said, gesturing at the bowl as he stirred, “I’ll choose the wrong amount of ingredients or beat it rather than folding,” he glanced at me with a small smile, “I’ll burn it, and then I’ll make the chocolate bitter and solid.” He told me shamefully, “She scold me, telling me I’ve ruined it, then she’ll always magically appear with a whole batch of perfect ones to replace all those I screwed up.” He explained, “Bera doesn’t believe in teaching, she believes in learning.” Harry said simply. I smirked at this. That sounded right.

“How about we prove her wrong then?” I suggested.

“What?” Harry asked in confusion, forgetting himself for a moment, “Sorry.” He said when I looked at him funnily.

I shook my head. “You poor boy” I muttered with a small smile, shaking my head. “Bera’s sure whipped you into shape.” I chuckled sympathetically. “I’m going to help you.” I explained, “– then we won’t have any need for Bera’s spares – and the whole kitchen will be able to have a treat at the end of the night.” I said with a wink at him.

His eyes lit up at my offer. “Alrigh’, laddie,” I said, mimicking Bera’s thick accent, “let’s do this.”

 I knew I was pissing J off by not meeting him in my office, but recently I was pissed off with him for cancelling on me so much that I think he deserved to be a bit disappointed.

Our relationship was rocky – it could hardly be called a stable relationship when your dating one of the most famous criminals in all of Gotham city – but what annoyed me most was that J probably didn’t even see that our relationship was rocky. He seemed completely content with our arrangement. And I had too - at the beginning - now I wasn’t so sure, and I felt like he only met with me when wanted something. He never showed any care as an actual boyfriend would, he just showed up when he had a need or a favour. But why would I expect anything else from the clown prince of crime? The psychopathic murderer who was supposed to be locked up in Arkham at the moment, but was instead running a night club only a few minutes downs the road.

So, when I was happily in the kitchen, teasing and joking with Harry as I taught him how to create the perfect lava cake, J was pacing angrily back and forth in my empty office. That was until the inopportune moment that he appeared in the middle of the kitchen in the same second that Harry embraced me in a warm hug of thanks after I offered him a taste of his perfect cake creation.

All I heard was a snarl and I knew I was in trouble. J pulled his gun out, immediately aiming it at the two of us. I automatically reciprocated the action out of pure instinct and I heard Harry gasp, jumping a mile away from me.

“So, I’ve been waiting patiently upstairs,” (I highly doubted it had been patiently) “only to find you down here cuddling the staff?” J snarled at me. I scowled at him, refusing to drop my weapon till he dropped his – which he hadn’t yet.

“Put your gun down, J.” I muttered darkly, not taking my eyes off him, knowing how unpredictable he was. The people around us had all frozen in what they were doing, all watching the drama between me and my boyfriend. How embarrassing, I thought to myself – I wish I could say this was the first time.

“Aww, doll. You didn’t say please.” He whined, with a forced grin so wide that it made his eyes go squinty. “Besides, you’ve got your friend out too.” He pointed out nodding his gun at mine.

I sighed heavily, already exhausted by his behaviour and he’d barely been here a few minutes. I was going to have to be the bigger person again. I rolled my head in a sign of pure exasperation, but dropped my gun nonetheless. J grinned at me in childish triumph, letting his own gun linger in the air slightly longer as a show of having won, before he dropped it as well, letting the pistol hang loosely in his hand by his side. I kept a firm grip on mine, not trust his mood swings in the slightest.

“What do you want J?” I asked as the kitchen staff around us began to turn back to their work, seeing that the situation had diffused somewhat – though I knew they were probably keeping half an ear on us.

J grinned at my lack of enthusiasm, my annoyance only fuelling his cheerfulness. He returned his gun to the holster slung over his shoulder and I copied him as he moved closer to me. I couldn’t help but admire his lithe, predatory movement - everything about this man was graceful, dangerous and so captivating. It also made up for his shit personality.

I raised an eyebrow at him as he stepped up to me, ignoring any concept of personal space or the public situation we were in, and immediately grabbing my arse, lifting me slightly off my feet as he pulled me up against him.

I automatically moulded myself to the shape of his body – a shape I knew well – and I felt his breath tickle the skin just below my ear. “Can’t a guy just come and see his girl?” He teased seductively in my ear. He’d barely touched me, but already I had hot feelings creeping all over me from the length of his body against my own and the smooth tones of his familiar voice. The man was hypnotising when he wanted to be.

“No.” I purred back at him as I ran my hand over his shirt covered chest, felling the defined muscles beneath the highest quality silk. “Because you never do.” I teased back with a knowing smile as I traced his sharp jaw line with my lips.

I felt him purr under my touch and I almost forgot the kitchen and its people around us. “You’re right, kitten.” He growled, “I don’t.”

The next thing I knew he had scoped me up into his arms and was carrying me out of the kitchen. In the back of my mind I knew I ought to be annoyed with him, should punish him somehow, but I hadn’t seen him in awhile and my lust was easily overpowering any irritation I had towards him. I’d be annoyed later, I promised myself - for now I was going to enjoy myself.

“Wait.” I stopped him with a devilish grin on my face. He looked down at me with raised invisible eyebrows, but he dropped me down, folding his arms as he watched me skip back towards the counter of lava cakes. I grabbed a few and then skipped back, presenting to them to his quizzical and slightly amused face. He knew what I was thinking immediately, and his eyes flashed hotly, instantly scoping me back into his arms and whisking me back to my office, growling sinful things in my ear as I giggled.

 After a short break of heat and passion, I found myself lying curled with my back against J’s chest on the leather couch in my office, covered in a throw that usually hung over the chair. I didn’t want to move and disturb this moment we had made – the peace and calm from an otherwise chaotic man -  so instead I began to slowly and delicately trail my finger along the hand outstretched next to me from where J’s arm leant against the cushions and around my shoulders.

I traced the lines on his palm, feeling the familiar rumble of a purr from his chest against my back. I smirked to myself as I continued my pattern across his skin, sometimes travelling to creases encircling his wrist, sometimes moving up the tip of his fingers. Eventually I allowed my fingers to slide between his, interlacing them and griping his hand. He followed suit, surprisingly, and I watched as his large muscular hand easily dwarfed mine. I didn’t say anything, I just stared at his hand over mine. This was a hand that had shot people, stabbed people, strangled people. Yet I didn’t care. Because it belonged to the man I loved.

I smiled to myself as I thought this, admiring his pale white tones next to my normal, slightly tanned skin. We probably couldn’t be more different. But for the most part – though he annoyed me and could be a selfish arse - we worked. I couldn’t imagine life with anyone but J. I just wish I knew if he felt the same.

I shifted around so I faced him, bringing his arm up and around from behind my head, so our hands remained interlaced. I smiled, keeping my eyes on our hands, though I knew his sharp blue eyes were on my face, and I could feel his gaze burning my cheeks.

“I should do this more often.” He growled down at me and I laughed quietly, finally looking up at him where his eyes still held a simmering heat from a few moments ago.

“Maybe you should.” I giggled, adding a bit of pressure to his hand. “But if you are, maybe I need to invest in shower in this office.” I teased, noticing a spot of chocolate left over from the lava cake on his chest and using my free hand to wipe it off with my finger, licking the crumb off with a wink at him.

I saw his eyes smoulder hotter and I knew I’d be in trouble if I didn’t move soon – there was only so much of the day I could waste away in his arms and I had other things I needed to do – like run my business. Which reminded me, I had no idea how much time I already wasted away.

I glanced behind me at the rest of the office, catching the clock on the wall by the door. Shit. It was 6pm - the dinner shift had started over an hour ago. “Sorry J.” I said, with a kiss to his jaw, “Some people have to work.” I teased, as I quickly untangled myself from him and stood up, picking my clothes off the floor and getting dressed speedily.

“Ah, ah, ah, doll.” He said, slipping to his feet and grabbing my hand, stopping my attempt to button up my shirt and pulling my attention back to him. “We’re not finished yet.”

“J.” I giggled, “We definitely are. I have work to do, and we’ve had more than enough fun for now.” I pointed out, trying to pull my hand out of his, but he held on tight and I felt my smile instantly drop. His face was serious.

“That’s not what I’m talking about, princess…” He drawled, tugging me closer and moving his hands downwards, finding my hips and holding me in place. “And though, that was an unexpected bonus, that wasn’t what I’m here for.” My every sense was on alert now, alarm bells ringing in my mind.

“What J?” I demanded, defences up.

“Don’t be like that, kitten….” He purred, turning on his charm, but I brushed it away. His mind was on business, and so would mine - none of his mind games.

“Stop with the cute nicknames J.” I told him dismissively. “Spit it out.”

“I just need you to do me a little favour, doll, that’s all.” His grip tightening subconsciously on my hips, knowing my instant reaction would be to withdraw from him. “You do owe me from earlier…” he said, clearly hinting to my time with Harry.

“I owe you nothing.” I snapped back, “And the answer is no J.” I said, no even waiting to see what he had to say.

“Come on now, Kitten…” He drawled sweetly, though behind his forced smile I could hear him holding back his temper. “You don’t even know what it is yet…” He purred.

“I don’t care J, get one of your lackies to do it.” I snapped, worming my way out of his grip.

He glared at me, his eyes flashing with annoyance for a moment before he reined it back in again, biting back the anger and his eyes softening slightly again. Clearly he was learning that snapping at me would only lose my cooperation altogether. “I would…” He drawled, jerking me at my hips so I was forced closer to him, only inches away from his body again. “but they don’t quite have the curves,” He let go of my waist, waving his up and down my body, mapping my womanly curves, “to do the job.” He finished.

I glared at him suspiciously. “Then definitely not.” I spat at him, making the most of him releasing me and turning to leave the room. I had a restaurant to run.

I didn’t get very far however, as J threw an arm out, catching me and towing me back towards him. Anger flashed in me, fed up of his irritating persistence, his inability to accept when I refused him. I threw an arm out at him in anger, but he easily dodged it, knowing me too well. In a split second though, I had a new idea and slammed my heeled foot down on his – childish maybe, but it worked in taking him by surprise - and he doubled over before bursting into hysterical laughter. It was enough to get him to drop his arm from me, and I once again tried to escape, turning to storm off, but this time he grabbed at my shirt, pulling me easily backwards by the material, the height of my heels allowing him to easily pull me off balance and cause me to stumble backwards. J made the most of this and pull me further backwards, shoving me up against the wall, pinning my arms with his own and painfully covering my feet with his own. I couldn’t move anything but my hips, and they were unlikely to do much damage.

I screamed at him in frustration. Squirming and writhing in his grip till he leant his whole body against mine to stop me moving. I cursed how strong he was, and how my body reacted to this simple touch.

“Now, as much as I don’t hate this position, doll.” He growled sinfully, “I would like you to listen” he snarled, smacking me against the wall when I once more made an attempt to break free from his hold, “to what I have to say.” He finished, his voice calm again.

I was out of breath now from my labours and I gave up. I could hear him out, but that didn’t mean I’d have to agree to anything. “What then?” I panted, glaring at him with hatred, my head slightly pounding with the collision against the wall.

“All I want… Kitten…” He purred sweetly, “Is for you to attend a small gathering of rather… expensive people.” He murmured to me, his eyes watching every feature on my face.

“Why?” I snarled.

He didn’t react to my aggression now, “Why just to be a friendly neighbour… After all, that is what you will be. I need you to get to the know the aristocrats of the city – one in particular… Bruce Wayne…”

“The millionaire playboy?” I asked, my curiosity getting the best of me and I forgot to be pissed off for a moment.

“The one and only…” Grinned J sinisterly.

“Let me guess, you want me to seduce something out of him like I did with Marvo?” I guessed, a bored look on my face.

“Bingo, doll!” He exclaimed with a wide grin. “Just like Marvo. Except, this time – princess…” He laid on thickly, “It’s not a run-down back alley casino… This time it’s in the best room in the house.”

“Oh?” I smirked, “And where’s that?”

“Ah, ah, ah, doll.” He tutted, “Confidential information unless you part of the plan.” He told me with a grin meant he knew he had me.

I wasn’t going to play along, shrugging like I didn’t care. “Oh, well. Can I go now?”

“Sure, doll.” He said, matching my bluff, “Just thought you might like a chance of splashing some cash on a new dress and spending a night pampering yourself with what Gotham’s finest had to offer. All the fine food… champagne… beautiful jewels… not to mention the money…” He purred seductively into my ear. “It would be your first night off in weeks, wouldn’t it…?” He asked like the devil on my shoulder, knowing full well the answer. He knew he had me, I could see it in his smug face, those blue eyes sparkling.

“Just that one night?” I asked cautiously, with a raised brow.

He grinned triumphantly.

“And I wouldn’t have to sleep with anyone?” I asked – best to just check.

J’s face clouded over. “I’d like to see someone even try to touch you.”

I rolled my eyes in exasperation, but the truth was I was biting back I smile – I loved it when he was jealous. I sighed heavily as though this was the most tiresome thing. “Fine. What do I have to do?”

tags: @gemma60

[thejokersenigma]

Joker (JaredLeto) x Reader x Bruce Wayne - Request - Plan B(ruce) Masterlist

Summary:  This was a request I was given - the general idea is that the Joker and reader are in a relationship and Joker asks reader to go to a party thrown by Bruce Wayne to gain some intel. She finds Bruce very charming and begins to spend more time with him, gaining intel alongside this until J begins to worry that he may be losing his girl and he must find a way to get her back.

Prologue (Oneshot Request)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader - Deadly Voice Part 46

Hi guys, next part is ready (thanks to a late night of writing last night). I'll apologise now for any poor editing on my behalf - but I was determined to get it finished so I could post it this morning.

Its really long (over 5000 words) so I'll also apologise for that, but I couldn't see a great way to split it up so *shrug*

Also there's bits in here I'm not sure why I included them (which is probably why its soo long haha) but I just felt like writing it!

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

For those interested I will work towards the next part of Strictly Business before I write the next Deadly Voice (otherwise I'll keep putting it off) so if there is a little bit of a longer delay for the next part, that's why.

As always I love all your messages! (they make me feel loved! :D) and if anyone wants to chat I'm always here, and any requests I am more than welcome to give a go! :)

MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: Its long. Its SO FLUFFY (sorry)

We slept that way for the next few days. Come each morning the Joker had vanished and seemed to then spend the whole day out of the house from what I could gather - though come the night I would always hear him enter the room and get into bed next to me. He never said a word to me, but he was always there without fail.

I, myself, spent my days in the little piano room or the library mainly - I even took up cooking as a new way to entertain myself. Though it was an easy existence in the house, it was quite boring and lonely – most of the henchman leaving with the Joker so only a few were scattered around the halls (and they generally refused to speak to me).

Once, I had made an attempt to leave the house – there was no rule that said I was under house arrest after all – so I had waited until most of the men were out of the house, then snuck out the front door and wandered down the long street that wound down the hill to the rest of the city. I had never made it to the city centre - the distance too far for foot alone really - but I had found a small street that lead off the main road which had a newsagent’s, hairdressers and a small coffee shop and so I sat in the little café for a while, relishing the change of scene.

That was until half an hour later, when two 4x4s with tinted windows came rumbling down the street and had pulled up outside the window I had been sat by. The little shop had then been invaded by a bunch of armed men who had demanded I return to the house.

Apparently, it was a rule that I was under house arrest for the whole week.

It was my 5th day in the house when I awoke to yet another empty pillow next to me. The light from the large glass doors poured onto the bed and I squinted as I tilted my head toward the light source. I let out a small groan as consciousness worked its way through my mind, dispelling the sleepy haze and pushing my dreams aside.

Though I knew the Joker would be long gone, I did what I always did each morning, dragging myself up until I sat in bed, the covers hugged tightly to my body even though I still wore my improvised pyjamas of the Joker’s shirt and sweatpants – a suitable alternative still not found. I then searched the room for any sign of, but – as usual -  the room was silent and unmoving, the bathroom door flung open wide and no light on in the closet.

I relaxed slightly, happy that I was the only one in the room, and lay back down in the bed, yawning widely and then sighing contently as I relaxed back into the cushion behind me. I could honestly just lie here all day - why shouldn’t I? It wasn’t like I had anywhere else to go, or anything else to do.

That thought made we wonder back to my job – one I was sure I didn’t have anymore – I didn’t know if the Joker had just accepted my resignation when I had agreed to stay here, or maybe he still expect me to go? Either way I wasn’t going to. That job felt tinted now what with everything going on between me and him, and with the weird memory of Bobby still lingering at that bar.

I scrunched my eyes up at the thought of having to go back there and I rolled over so I now lay diagonally across the bed, my face pressed into the pillow that the Joker occupied each night. Immediately his scent hit me, the smell of him lingering on the bed sheet and filling my mind – the smell of cologne, gunpowder and sex.

I was lost in it, sucking it through me with every breath. I was wrong – this - this was where I could stay all day.

Then what I was doing hit me and I immediately swung myself away, back to my side of the bed, breathing quickly to try to dispel what was left of the scent in my nostrils. I was being weird. And creepy, but now I knew the smell, I could almost feel it working its way across the bed towards me which only coupled with the hint of him still on my makeshift pyjamas.

I sat myself up again, deciding that being locked in this house was slowly driving me insane and I just needed to get out of bed and clear my head. I swung my legs over the side of the mattress, about to push myself to my feet when a folded piece of paper on the bedside table next to me caught my eye. It had a knife rammed through it and embedded into the wood beneath.

I was certain that hadn’t been there last night and I felt uneasy to think someone had stood that close to me with a knife, ready to stab – if only into the dresser next to me.

Not that was normal - in anyway. I told myself harshly. There was nothing normal about stabbing a knife through a table as a crude paper weight. It was important to me that I remembered this – otherwise I might start thinking other things were normal - that the Joker was almost normal - almost sane. And that was a dangerous rabbit hole to get sucked down.

I stared at the knife a bit longer - and I would be lying if I said I didn’t check for sign of blood on the blade as I sat there. Eventually curiosity got the better of me and leant over, pulling at the knife. It stuck fast - having been rammed deeply into the wood - it must have took quite a bit of force, and I recalled again how close I must have been to the person wielding this weapon.

After wiggling it around a bit, I managed to tease it out of the table and I placed it on the bed cover to the side of me, my attention now on the paper which I picked up and unfolded, reading the brief, scrawled message written in purple ink.

Meet me at the club tonight. No cheating remember.

I smirked at the last comment, rolling my eyes at the paper. The whole message was straight to the point – classic Joker. It clearly wasn’t a question of whether I wanted to or not, I had to. But there was no indication of which club, or when to meet him. I frowned, at the wall in front of me, was I just supposed to guess? I doubted that would go down well with the Joker – I imagined he appreciated punctuation – well apart from his own anyway.

I looked back at the knife that lay beside me. What was the point of stabbing the table after all? There was no breeze in the room – it wasn’t like it was going to blow away.

Was it a way to make up for past nights? To make me remember he was still the insane psycho I knew - even if for a moment the other night, he had been almost nice and understanding? Was it a way of saying to still be afraid of him? To remind me of how dangerous he was? Or had he just been angry? Had he had thought about stabbing me, but controlled himself at the last moment? Or was he just insane and felt this was a reasonable thing to do?

The different scenarios played through my mind - each sounding completely plausible – until I eventually had to sigh and shake them out of my head. I could sit here forever coming up with new explanations for the behaviour, but the truth was, I would never know – I would never understand the Joker.

Even so, I stayed on the bed a few moments longer before I could fully pull myself together. I got dressed and headed down the now-familiar corridors to the kitchen where I ate my breakfast alone in silence. And my lunch. And my dinner.

The whole day I wasn’t interrupted by anyone. I caught the occasional glimpse of a henchman, but generally even they made themselves scarce. The day passed quickly and slowly, the minutes dragging, but the hours flying by. And I couldn’t decide which I wanted more.

I was dreading tonight and facing the Joker again – and that was only if I could get to the place on time. If I didn’t manage to it would probably be an even worse night so the last thing I wanted was the hours to race by. But at the same time, I dreaded it so much I just wanted to get it over and done with so I prayed for the time to fly, the clock instead, dragging its hands.

So, I tried to avoid staring at the clock for the day as - no matter what I saw - I didn’t like it. Instead I remained in my little piano room with my stack of books again, and spent the time to make myself proper meals rather than just snacking.

I had retired to the library that evening to while away the evening in the shadow of the books, my only light source being the small table lamp sat next to me. I wasn’t sure how long I had been there when there was a knock at the door causing me to practically jump out of my own skin.

“Hello?” I asked called out, my voice faltering as I sat up, alert in the armchair I had folded myself into, my heart beating loudly in my ear. The door opened, the hinges creaking slightly with their age, and Frost stepped into the room. I immediately relaxed back into my seat.

Frost flicked on the main light in the room, the brightness painful compared to the lamp and I had to shield my eyes with my hand, temporary blinded.

“You’re not dressed?” Frost asked, alarmed, as he looked at me curled up, my legs tucked underneath me in the old, worn armchair that I presumed had been left here from the previous tenants.

“What?” I asked, confused by the question – I was dressed, I thought, looking down at my jeans and t-shirt.

“The club?” He suggested, trying to jog my memory “I’m here to take you.” He told me.

“Right now?!” I asked alarmed. Frost nodded. I looked back down at my jeans and T-shirt which now looked ten times worse than then had a minute ago. Shit.

“How much time do I have?” I asked desperately, already flinging myself to my feet.

“Less than 10 minutes.” Frost told me gravely.

“Ahhhhh…” I moaned now on my feet and pacing, my mind panicking about what I should be doing first and my feet confused where to go. “Give me a few minutes!” I cried and fled the room, taking the staircase two at a time and dashing to the Joker’s room.

I threw myself into the walk-in closet and swung all the wardrobes open on my side, staring blindly at the many dresses, skirts and tops that hung before me. I groaned at the selection – now was not the time to be trying to work out what was decent. I ran back out of the room and into the hallway again. “FROST!” I yelled as loudly as possible. There was a pause before I heard the footsteps practically running towards me.

He arrived, hand on his gun, body tense and alert, ready for any threat. When he saw me stood there unharmed he relaxed a millimetre. “What is it?” He demanded, tense.

“You have to help me!” I told him, yanking at the arm on his gun, taking him by surprise and pulling him into the room, “I have no idea what to wear!” I explained desperately, hauling the bewildered Frost to the door of the closet. “Help me!” I demanded urgently.

Frost wits seemed to return to him and he dug his heels into the carpet so I was unable to move him, no matter how much I pulled at him. “What the hell do you want me to do about it?” He demanded in surprise at my plea, his professionalism lost in my odd behaviour.

“You’ve been to these sorts of things plenty of times! And with the Joker!” I pointed out, “You know better than I do what I should wear!” I explained, still hopelessly tugging at his immobile figure. “Now go in there.” I puffed, now trying to push him - the exertion of trying to get him to move getting to me - “And find something – anything – for me to wear!” I pleaded.

Frost considered me and my desperate state for a moment before he begrudgingly entered the closet. “Thank you!” I cried after him in relief before rushing to the bathroom to get ready where I could.

When I came back out, refreshed and more presentable, there was a dress laid on the bed in front of me with jewellery laid next to it and on the floor beneath.

Frost wasn’t in sight. He must have left before I demanded anything else of him.

I picked up the dress, holding it out and surveying it sceptically. It looked short, tight and revealing and definitely not something I would have chosen myself. I had half a mind to put it back but I didn’t have time and I couldn’t do that to Frost after I had just begged for his help.

I swallowed my fear and put it on. It fit perfectly. But it fit like a glove. A very tight, revealing glove. It was a relatively simple deep purple dress, simple straps that started thick at the shoulder and thinned as they reached the dress that hovered just over my bust. It hugged every curve of my body, finishing only halfway down my thighs making me tug at it self-consciously.

I didn’t have time to worry too much though, so I hung a long silver necklace around my neck, the large pendant falling just past the top of my dress, then put on the matching earrings and a single silver bangle on my wrist, before stepping into a pair of dark purple high heels which made me feel 2 foot taller. After dressing myself with everything Frost had laid out, I headed back into the bathroom to finish applying my makeup.

There came a knocking at the door to the bedroom as I emerged from the bathroom, just finishing running a brush through my hair – I had opted to leave it down, not having the time to mess with new styles.

I opened it to find Frost waiting. He looked me up and down and must have approved because his face didn’t change to the look of alarm he had given me earlier. “We need to go.” He said bluntly.

“You look beautiful too Frost.” I said sarcastically stepping out of the bedroom and closing the door behind me.

“You look more than beautiful, [Y/N].” Frost told me and offered his arm for me to take. I blushed hotly at the comment and dropped my eyes, glad the darkness of the corridor would hide most of my redness.

I was glad Frost had offered his arm to me as I worked my way out of the house - I only ever wore heels this high when I was on stage and I tended to just stand still if I opted for this height. Without Frost to lean on, I was sure I would have toppled down the large staircase at least 5 times.

The car journey took place in silence – Frost not one for small talk and me too nervous about the upcoming night to want to make much conversation with him.

Eventually the car stopped and Frost got out. I went to follow, but before I could, the car door was pulled open and Frost offered a hand to pull me out. Once back balanced on my heels I thanked him and noticed another, shorter man stood beside me, holding the door open. I thanked him too. Frost handed the shorter man the keys to the 4x4 and led the way forward, this time not offering his arm and forcing me to navigate my way on my stilts without him.

A little bit of me had been worried the Joker would be at Club 52 – the club I use to run -  and I really hadn’t wanted to go back there. But the club in front of me was one I hadn’t seen before, though I had certainly heard of it – it was the Joker’s most famous club – the Circus.

I myself had never been in, but when you’re in the nightclub business you always hear about the best ones – you need to know your competition after all. It was said to have different theme each Saturday night until the circus theme came around. When it was circus night you either had to be really brave, stupid or insanely drunk to spend a night there. I never quite got why, but I’d heard people went missing on those nights.

I was really glad it was a Thursday.

I followed Frost inside the nightclub and down some stairs until he led me onto the main dancefloor. He easily cleared a path through the mass of bodies writhing and grinding around us and I hurried after him, making sure I stuck as close to him as possible to avoid getting lost behind the wall of people that closed up around us as soon as we moved on.

The blaring music from the giant speakers pounded in my ears and made me deaf to the noise from the people around me trying to make conversation. I was shoved and jolted a few times, narrowly avoiding drink spills and once being knocked off into another person who tried to push me back. I would have become a human pinball if Frost hadn’t grabbed my armed and pulled me back upright. He kept a hold of me after that, tugging me through the room and into a ‘staff only’ corridor on the opposite wall.

Behind the heavy sound proof door, the music was blocked out to a low rumble and my ears rang with the remnants of the strong vibrations. Though I was enjoying the sweet silence, Frost didn’t pause, continuing down the hallway and I followed quickly after him.

He led me up a couple of flights of stairs and then down a dark corridor until we stopped outside a door. He knocked smartly, paused a moment, and then pushed the door open, stepping into the room with me following on close behind.

“Not now Frost.” I heard the familiar snarl from across the room as the Joker brushed Frost’s presence away. Frost has stepped aside to wait, revealing me in the doorway behind him. Now I had a clear view of the room and the people in it. Directly in front of me was a long table with at least 10 chairs sat to the side – probably for any meetings I imagined. Past this I could see the back wall was similar to one in my old club as it seemed to be made of one-way glass that looked out over the rest of the club.

In front of this, on a slightly raised dais was a large, throne-like office chair with a large, slightly curved desk and - pressed up against the one-way glass window – was a large cushiony sofa which faced the desk and high-back chair.

I understood the arrangement immediately. The Joker would sit in the large chair and would see the person in the sofa, but also the whole club. If he then spun to the door I stood in he would be placed at the head of the meeting table, even if he was a good 15+ foot away.

I was too busy taking in the room to initially notice the people in the room, it was only as I searched the room a second time I froze on who sat on the expensive couch.

The Penguin.

Though it had taken me so long to notice him, his gaze was already on me, probably noting me as soon as Frost had stepped aside. Shock nailed me in place, my heart sinking and blood running cold. What was he doing here? Was there a plan against me? For me? What was happening?

The Joker seemed to realise something was wrong in the sudden loss of the portly man’s attention and spun his chain, leaning around the edge of the high-back to follow the Penguin’s eye line.

His eyes noticeably darkened on seeing me stood there and I noticed his hand that I could see clench on the arm of the chair before he turned back to the man before him. “Let’s leave this happy reunion there shall we?” He asked and I could see his face splitting into a sickly-sweet grin – clearly not a truthful smile of pleasure.

The large man nodded, “Of course.” He agreed, pushing his plump figure to his feet and reaching for his hat that was perched on the cushion next to him. He fitted the formal headwear back onto his blading scalp and hobbled his way past the desk and in my direction.

The Joker followed his movements, his eyes laced with hatred and danger.

Frost suddenly caught my attention as he stuck out an arm in front of me and I looked down to see him presenting the Penguin with his cane. I assumed it had been seized on entering the room due to its weaponization.

He thanked Frost and made to hobble to the door, but paused beside me. I turned to him, taking in his greasy hair, beady eyes and large pointed nose with revulsion, “And you - my little dove - are looking more lovely than ever.” He praised in his oily manner before he limped his way from the room, the door closing behind him.

I shivered in disgust at the interaction and turned back to the Joker, but he had spun his regal chair back around to face the window - though I didn’t need to see him to feel the anger and menace rolling off him in waves. What was I supposed to do - just stand here? Did I go to him? Or was that risking my life? Was I risking my life by not going to him? I looked to Frost with pleading eyes, begging to know what to do. Frost gave me the tiniest of shrugs – clearly, he was at a loss too.

I swallowed heavily and tried to muster some courage – this could be brave or foolish – and I walked up behind his chair, trying to appear confident in my decision. As I got closer though, my nerves got the better of me and I hesitated at the side of the desk, not looking directly at him, but letting my hair fall over my face slightly and peering through the strands. From what I could see he was staring stonily out into the club.

“Are you ok?” I asked hesitantly, immediately cursing myself – what a stupid question – especially to a crime lord and certified insane person who was looking like he wanted to stab someone.

His eyes flashed to mine and the murder in them was so clear that I couldn’t help but recoil as though he had slapped me. But I didn’t turn and run as I probably should have, instead I treaded my way softly around the side of the desk to the sofa, sitting on the opposite cushion to that which the Penguin had occupied a few moments ago.

I stared uneasily at my lap where I had clasped my hands together, every inch of my body telling me it wasn’t safe be here right now – it was like trying to approach a rabid dog or sleeping lion – one wrong move and he’d snap.

“I – um – never thanked you for getting me out of that contract with him.” I said down at my sweating palms and – though he made no acknowledgement of my comment – I was sure he had heard me.

I probably should I have stopped there - quit whilst I was ahead – but my mouth was running now, the nerves getting the better of me. “I just – I see him and I want to –“ I growled out, my jaw clenched in suppressed anger and I gripped my hands together tightly, my nails digging into my skin.

I thought I caught movement in front of me and I braved a look up at the Joker. My last faltered sentence seemed to have broken the Joker out of his trance of death and violence and he was now looking at me with something odd in his eyes, “Do go on, doll…” He purred darkly.

 “Uh –“ I stammered, my anger had melted the moment I had become aware of what I had said and who I had said it to, and now I was too surprised he was talking to me again.

He smirked at my look of bewilderment, “Come on doll, I want the juicy details – tell me what you’d do to that puffed up pengie.” He growled with a dark grin, his teeth still clenched in anger at the large well-dressed man.

“I – uh – well – I – I don’t know.” I stuttered out, my mind wiped clear of what I had been going to say and I was too embarrassed now even if I had known.

“Hmm,” The Joker considered me and the bright red colour I had become, “Frost,” He called behind him without removing his eyes from me, the henchman appearing at his shoulder in an instant, “Get us some liquid courage.” The Joker growled menacingly.

I gulped at this, “Uh – no – it’s alright I –“

The Joker held up his hand at me, “Doll, it’s going to be a long night if you can’t come up with full sentences all evening.” He told me seriously. I shut my mouth then, reluctantly agreeing that this was probably true - I’d only have a couple of drinks after all and I’d be fine.

  A few hours later I wasn’t sure what I’d drunk or how much, but there always seemed to be a steady supply of new drinks sent up to us and my drink was constantly being refilled so I was never sure when I had finished a glass.

This wasn’t without a certain amount of protest however - especially at the start - but no one could disagree with the Joker for long so I had always conceded to ‘one more’ until my resistance was completely worn down with the warming alcohol feeling. I wasn’t the only one - the Joker was matching me drink for drink most of the time - though he seemed to be dealing with it a lot better than me.

“Do you want to dance?” He suddenly said to me. I had been lost, sat on the arm of the soda, staring out at the vibrant lights that pulsed on the dance floor below and people watching as they danced and chatted to one another – I could get the tone of the conversations thanks to the expressions I caught on their faces when a light flickered across them.

I didn’t bother to turn when I answered, keeping my eyes on the scene below me. “Not really my scene.” I admitted - maybe I wasn’t that drunk? I might have run a nightclub, but I didn’t generally participate as a customer at them.

“Not even with me, doll?” He asked, and I could hear the mocking sad plead in his voice.

“What?” I asked, finally turning to face him where he stood watching me by the long table which now held a collection of different glasses from our many drinks.

I wasn’t sure I had heard him right.

He rolled his eyes at my bewildered face, “Dance with me, doll.” He repeated, in a bored tone as though it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do.

I frowned. “You sound so enthusiastic.” I told him sarcastically, but I still stood up from my perch on the sofa to face him. He growled at me, but I could tell it was playful – even if it wasn’t I think I was too far in my alcohol induced haze to care.

I turned back to the night life visible through the one-way window, “You actually want to?” I asked, not believing him.

“Not out there.” He said, having followed my eyeline, “I have a reputation to uphold afterall…” he growled lowly. His voice growing ever closer and I could almost feel him prowling towards me behind my back.

Suddenly he grabbed my upper arms from behind, his mouth at my ear, “But back here,” he purred seductively, “I can do whatever I like.” With that, he spun me around so I was face to face with him, a devilish grin on his face.

If I had been in my right mind I might have pulled away at that point.

Maybe.

Though I couldn’t be sure.

“Now, dance with me, doll.” He said, holding out a pale hand in the small space between us.

“You are so controlling.” I scolded him, but I took his hand anyway, more than a bit intrigued what was going to happen.

“That’s what you don’t get though, doll” he said, tugging my body so I fell forward into him, his other hand at my back, ensuring I stayed pressed against his chest. “I don’t want control.” He purred in my ear. “I want spontaneity, thrill and chaos…”

The music that pounded its way up from below was muffled but a generic club song with a fast beat made for jumping and grinding too. This didn’t seem to faze the Joker who instead moved me around the office floor in a waltz-like movement with such accurate steps and sways I wondered if there was a particular piece of music playing through his mind.

His previous words resonated with me as he pulled me round in our dance. I kept up with him as well as I could but he was light and limber on his feet and I always felt a few steps behind him - though we still seemed to move effortlessly – mainly because I clung to him tightly as he swung me around faster, twirling us both across the floor, in a controlled chaos – one false move could send us both flying, but I just held on, oddly trusting the Joker.

The music must have come to a climax in his mind because the Joker suddenly spun me out from him so I whirled under his arm. As I spun the world around me blurred at the speed apart from his grin which stayed focused in my mind. I couldn’t help but smile widely at the sensation - I felt careless and free in my intoxicated state.

When I eventually fell out of it I stumbled drunkenly backwards into his chest, disorientated, giddy and giggling childishly. I leant my head back against his chest, tilting my head up to see his face, a wild grin stretching my face and I was vaguely aware of not having smiled this brightly for years now.

The Joker looked down into my beaming face and grinned back at me. But this time it was different. This wasn’t his usual menacing grin that sent chills through people, that hid its true meaning behind red lipstick and metal teeth. No, this one looked genuine and happy and - in that moment -  I felt stone cold sober.

I didn’t remember clearly what happened the rest of the night. After that, I had called for more alcohol and drowned myself in it, scared of my own feelings.

The next time I was conscious of what I was doing was back at the mansion in the Joker’s bedroom, the cold evening air having driven away some of the alcohol’s warmth. I remembered being exhausted, somehow getting dressed, and then collapsing into the bed.

I had wrapped myself into the duvet before I felt another person get in the bed next to me. Then cool warms wrapping around my body and pulling me back against the Joker’s chest. I didn’t resist, instead allowing myself to fit snugly in the shape of him, relaxing against him and the safety I had felt in that moment.

I could feel the warm haze of the alcohol wearing off even more as I lay there, but I let myself enjoy the moment, a small smile appearing on my lips as I drifted into a heavy slumber.

I felt the Joker shift behind me, then felt his lips on the top of my head, “I think, doll.” He purred lazily down at me, “That I win.”

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

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader - Deadly Voice Part 24

Yes! Another Part! Don’t hold out hope that they will always be coming out this quick - it’s only because I am suppose to be doing revision, but this is far more fun!

I’ve noticed my notes are decreasing on my writing so I hope I haven’t actually lost too many readers and people either aren’t leaving notes or just haven’t read it yet but I do apologise if my writing has got worse!

Anyway I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

The car hadn’t even stopped on the bridge before the Joker had open the door and stepped out onto the road. He wasn’t in the mood for time wasting. Cars behind blasted their horns but he ignored them and they soon silenced when they recognised him. Frost soon followed on behind.

He made his way through the lunch time rush of pedestrians, the people parting before him when they got a look at him. The smarter ones immediately turned tail and strode away, some even running – not wanting to be anywhere near him or what he was going to do. A fewer more stupider individuals stepped to the side by remained to gasp and point, watching in awe as he stomped past them. He’d usually stop and give them a show – making them regret any gestures at him when they soon lost their precious fingers, and shutting their pathetic mouths with pistol. But he didn’t -you needed to be in the mood for these sorts of things. And for once he wasn’t.

A group of office works chatted in front of him, meandering along the bridge as they enjoyed their lunch hour. He pulled his gun out and growled at them, swinging the weapon around his finger. They turned at the noise, he noticed their eyes widen at the gun that spun around, a few of the women letting out screams and they all fled in various directions, pushing each other aside in their hurry. Usually he found this vaguely entertaining, but his temper remained – the turmoil he caused at Penguin’s club not enough to alleviate it.

When he reached the centre of the bridge he swung himself up onto the stone barrier without hesitation, hung his arms out to both sides and let himself fall into a dive as he plummeted into the depths of the river below, leaving Frost stood on the bridge watching the dark water in confusion.

I had wanted to put my plan into action as soon as I had thought of it – not wanting to wait around for Penguin to make my life any more miserable, or for the Joker to remerge and start his games again before he finely killed me.

This meant however that I didn’t have that much time to arrange things. I had managed to arrange everything for my grand disappearing act off the bridge, but my life from there onwards was less clear to me.

I had known that I couldn’t stay in Gotham - not even a city or two away. I didn’t even settle with the same state. I had been travelling for the last month between several cities and towns - never staying more than a few nights, always paying in cash - just in case anyone somehow came looking for me, or tried to tract my bank account.

I wasn’t poor. The money Penguin paid me hadn’t gone to much other than groceries – me not having much of a social life – so I had a nice cushion to fall back on now. Even so, there was a limit and I knew I needed a more permanent location for me to settle in and start my new life.

Which is how I found myself here.

It was a small town surrounded by cattle farm after cattle farm. The population of inhabitants was quite small – the cows almost outnumbering them. It was perfect really. I managed to rent myself a small farmhouse on one of the ranches and got myself a temporary job at one of the cosy pubs in the central market square – finally earning myself funds for my dwindling finances.

Life was going well. But it sort of wrong. Like I was on a really long holiday and I would one day have to return home and pick up my normal life. I felt constantly uneasy - like I was waiting on the edge for something to happen to change the life I had made.

I tried to distract myself by focusing on being more social. Up to this point I had been mainly alone – the only person I truly interacted with being the Farmer who rented my house to me – even that was only a wave and a good morning as he drove past my front door in the morning.

So I began to try to make some friends at the pub. It seemed to pay off. I became quite friendly with a few of the other waitresses/bartenders that worked alongside me, often going out for ‘girls night’ or getting lunch together. Still though, the empty feeling and restlessness soon returned when I was left to my own devices.

When I eventually felt like I could confide in my new girlfriends, I attempted to broach the subject. Despite their comforting words on the subject I felt like they couldn’t fathom my situation – and there was no way I could tell my true story. My suspicions of their understanding was confirmed when their solution was to point out ‘cute’ guys around the bar, and hook me up with their own boyfriend’s best friends. It didn’t appeal to me. I had considered the dating game as a possible remedy but no one appealed to me in this small town. Plus, just thinking about dating sent a familiar green haired man through my mind. I didn’t like to think about him.

If I began to think about him – even just his sweatpants - I immediately shut my mind down and thought about something else. I didn’t need that turmoil in my head.

There had been several incidences during my stay here thanks to my past. I had soon found out that the surrounding countryside was a prime spot for hunting – something I didn’t learn until I had heard gun shots ringing out through the streets and I had been the only one to dive for cover. I earned some funny looks for that.

This also meant that this time of year there was many large groups of intimidating men discussing weapons and choice shots. I couldn’t help but constantly keep an ear out for a familiar name – it reminded me all too much of the meetings I would attend with Penguin, where the goons would hunch around bragging about who had almost managed to land a shot on the Batman. The first time I heard a laugh like his I swear my heart stopped and I practically jumped 2 foot in the air, before instinctively hiding behind the nearest pillar in the room.

I was being ludicrous. I was dead to him – if he actually cared. Chances were we didn’t even know because he didn’t care enough to find it out. There was no chance he knew I was alive and no chance he would track me down. But what I found worse than my stupid reactions was that – every time he wasn’t actually here – I felt my heart drop.

It was absurd. But I was getting better, slowly.

That was until one late Sunday afternoon when I was clearing the pub up after the usual lunchtime rush, before the dinner shift started. There weren’t many people around – a few sat in the bar area, but known left in the main dining section – as I made my way around the old wooden tables, wiping them down with a grimy dishcloth and some disinfectant. As I rearranged the rag to a cleaner piece of material for the next bench,  I noticed a newspaper folded on top of one of the stools at the next bench.

I picked it up without a second thought - thinking of causally flicking through it as I didn’t keep up on the news much, apart from the local gossip. I far preferred the quiet ignorant life I had adopted.

I read the name of the paper and dropped it instantly as though it had burnt me.

It was the Gotham Gazette – and a recent edition at that.

It’s going in the bin! I told myself firmly. I didn’t need to know anything that was happening in that city.

I bent down to gingerly pick it back up - as though afraid it might bite me - and folded it back in half to its original state. That when the headline caught my eye. “Continued Clown Chaos” it read. My intrigue got the better of me – despite my common sense telling me to drop it and run - and I unfolded it once again to take in the front page.

The large photo captivated me. It was him, in all his glory. The Joker was crouched in the bed of a pickup truck, an assault rifle gripped in one hand, a revolver in other  and he appeared to be firing into the street. The photographer had clearly risked his life to get this picture, but it had clearly paid off, managing to secure the shot of the clown racing away from the scene – mostly likely trying to avoid the Batman. I bet anything Frost was at the wheel and I caught myself smiling slightly to myself as I thought about how annoyed he would be that the Joker wasn’t holding on in any way in the back of the truck – meaning one wrong turn of Frost’s would send the insane man flying. And of course Frost would be to blamed. I smirked, resisting the urge to chuckle at the image of Frost cursing as he stirred the speeding truck as carefully as he could.

My eyes roamed over the picture and I felt my smirk fade from my lips as my gaze landed on his face. There he was. I couldn’t lie to myself. I missed him. My memories had been fading in my attempt to not think about him, but to see him again was like a fresh coat of paint over my mind’s eye.

I studied the image in front of me, drinking in every last detail – I felt like an addict getting a hit after a long painful withdrawal - God knows if I’d ever see him again. I couldn’t. I knew that. I shouldn’t be looking at this. But though my head argued my eyes remained glued on the photo.

His purple coat was flying out in front of him, partially hiding his dark shirt beneath and the gold chains that hung around his neck. His hair was dishevelled and strands stuck out where the image had frozen them as the air rushed past. The newspaper didn’t do the colours justice, but I could see where the light of the day caught a few of the strands making them an even brighter green.

A deep blood red grin stretched across his face, his metallic tipped teeth just noticeable between his lips.

But it didn’t look right. It sat wrong on his face, his usual creases and slight dimples not indenting his bleached skin. This wasn’t a smile. There was no jesting there. It was a terrifying rictus. It spelt out exactly how he wanted to see the world burn and suffer. His eyes were the same - the blue not the light, carefree brightness I remembered, but instead it was dark and stormy, mostly hidden in the shadow of his brow. There was no humour there, no true enjoyment of what he was doing. It was all forced.

Ok now I’m just being stupid! It’s just the lighting! I’m reading far too much into a bloody picture! I told myself sternly and tore my eyes away from his.

I turned my attention to the columns of black and white text. “Weeks after plunging himself into Gotham River from the South Bridge in a suspected suicide attempt, -

What?! Suicide attempt?! The Joker?! From the same bridge?! What was I reading?! That can’t be true!

- the criminal known as The Joker had continued his rampage on the city of Gotham.

Having already hit 13 other locations throughout the city including City Hall, Gotham National Bank, S.T.A.R Labs, The Gotham University Library and The Purple Umbrella – a club owned by well-known criminal business man Oswald Cobblepot (aka the Penguin).

Today marks yet another attack in the series that began just over a month ago. This time the main target appeared to be the Riverfront Centre in Old Gotham. Several are known to have been killed at the scene and many have since been transported to the nearest hospital to treat for severe injuries. The police are still unclear as to the motive behind the attacks and have so far not managed to find any links between the buildings struck by The Joker.

“We are looking into any possible connections between the incidences.” Answered Commissioner Gordon of the GCPD when questioned, “We also hope to identify some clues as to the location of so-called The Joker so we may apprehended him before any more damage befalls the city and its inhabitants.”

“This is a compl-“

“[Y/N]?” A hand landed on my shoulder making me jump, a quickly fold up the paper and hide behind my body as I spun around to face Hannah. I gave her a breathless smile in greeting. “Geez, sorry! Didn’t mean to make you jump,” she apologise quickly, “What ya’ got there?” she asked gesturing behind me where I gripped the newspaper partially concealed.

“Oh.” I said, reluctantly bringing the newspaper back into clear view, “Just a newspaper someone left behind.” I said, trying to sound as breezy as possible as I handed it to her. I could feel my chest still pounding from her sudden appearance, but I also knew it was partially from the shame of being so engrossed in the ex-Arkham resident on the front page that I hadn’t even heard her approach. Could she tell?

“Oh?” She questioned taking the paper from me and leafing through it, completely ignoring the headline. She pause part way through, seeing the name of the paper, “Gotham Gazette? Gotham’s a bit far from here in’it?”

I nodded, “Must have just been a traveller passing through.” I said lightly, acting as if I didn’t care in the slightest. She then closed the paper and noticed the front. Shit.

“Oh my God!” She cried reading through article. “I heard of this mad man – The Joker. Yeah, definitely looks like a bit of a clown!” She guffawed, “Gotta be mad to have all that makeup on!” She added as her eyes flicked over the picture.

“Most of it’s not makeup.” I pointed out without even thinking about it. It was the way she said it though. I just had the urge to defend him – not that he needed it – but it wasn’t really his fault he looked like that and the comment stung me for some reason. She looked up from the article at me, puzzlement etched on her face.

“Whattya mean?” She asked and I could see the light in her eye brightened, the same way it did when she sensed gossip.

“I mean… he uh…” I gulped, mortified by how tongue tied I had gotten over it and I couldn’t help the heat that was rushing to my cheeks, “I- um - I heard he fell in chemicals at some point – or something like that. That’s why he looks like that. I think.” I finished lamely gesturing at the paper in her hand and the large photograph.

She raised an eyebrow at me, “How do ya know that?” she grilled me.

“Well - um - I’ve been – I mean I - I used to – uh – I use to live in Gotham.” I managed to stutter out in my embarrassment.

“Oh dear! I didn’t know honey! Oh my God imagine living in that city! All that crime! I’ve heard terrible things – gangs and guns round every corner, drugs handed out like sweets!  Gosh every other person you meet must be a criminal!” She looked at me with such pity and sadness I almost got angry at her. How dare she talk about my city like that! It wasn’t that bad when you learnt how to live there! …Well maybe not right now… I thought thinking back to the article I just read and the rampage the Joker seemed to be on.

“I mean imagine a city full of these crazy people!” She exclaimed shaking the newspaper, “These people need to be locked up in padded cells, not running around waving guns and explosives throughout a city!”

“Well it’s not like they haven’t tried.” I muttered to myself as she gestured at the photo as proof. My eyes followed her hand and once again gaze fell on the pistol the joker held. I blinked a few times, looked away and then back. No. I wasn’t going crazy. He had my gun. The one he had given me. I hadn’t noticed initially, but now I saw it – the slight purple accents could have meant it was one of his easily, but now I could just make out the word ‘Voice’ on the barrel and if I really tried the blur of black on the cylinder could form ‘deadly’. That was my revolver – the one I had lost into the river. Where did he get it? Was it from his ‘suicide attempt’?

“I mean, how messed up must someone life be to end up like that though?! I mean sure, fall in some chemicals and end up looking like a demented clown! But why then decide the best thing to do is to go on a riot through the streets with a machine gun?!” Hannah continued, questioning wildly, oblivious to my sudden realisation and looking at me for mutual agreement and outrage.

I wasn’t going to agree. She didn’t know him. Sure he was a psychotic lunatic and a murderer but she didn’t know anything about him. She acted like no one had stopped him before, like no one had locked him in a cell and tortured him. He was a bad person, sure, but he wasn’t the only one - and he certainly wasn’t the only one to blame for what he was now. Her narrow mindedness didn’t allow her to see any more than the killer before her on the front page.

“I try not to judge.” I snapped, snatching the newspaper back from her and heading to the back room of the pub. I stripped off my apron, gathered my stuff and headed out the door - I was taking the rest of the day off.

As I made my way back to the ranch, I couldn’t help but think it was a good thing I had lost my gun.