#jokersenigma fanfic

[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 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 OC - Strictly Business Part 1

Hi guys, so this was a request I was given at the beginning of the week:

Hi there! I have a request if you don't mind ;) How about Joker got obsessed with a married woman? I'm just dying to see what he's going to do. I don't want to limit your imagination, but still a little application... I just see that marriage was more like marriage of convenience in a good way. Maybe this woman and her husband are like business partners too.

There were a few particular they wanted, but that would make this a long post (longer than usual) so I'll leave it at that!

After beginning to write this I figured it would be better as a 2-3 part piece, and as the Anon didn't specify if this was suppose to be a oneshot or not I've decided to spilt it up (otherwise it would be huge because I'm really bad at writing small pieces of work! haha

Anyway, hope you enjoy it!

Thank you to the Anon for the asking for the request - I hope it's what you were after - let me know if it's not and I can try again!

Masterlist

Strictly Business MASTERLIST

  I shuffled together the mass of papers that were splayed out over the expanse of my desk, shoving them into a neater pile and tapping them on the flat surface until they were inline, then placed them to the side of me.

I straightened up, hyperextending my back and feeling the ache ring through my muscles – maybe I ought to take up Yoga again – hunching over a desk wasn’t helping my posture or my back.

I pushed myself to my feet, the sun already beginning to fade behind the skyscrapers that filled the view from my large office window. It was getting late and I needed to get going.

I picked up my now-uniform pile of papers and nestled them into the crook of my arm, moving around my desk and heading for the door, grabbing my handbag and coat from the hook on the back of the door.

I locked the office up behind me, dropping the keys into the expanse of my back, before straightening myself out and walking the brief distance across the open floor of offices to the only other room as large as mine on this floor - and the entire building – my husband’s.

I knocked smartly on his door, pausing only a moment before I heard the faint acceptance into the room and I pushed the door open.

Though the room was as large as mine, it was decorated completely differently. Whilst mine took on a more modern look and was decorated to look sleek with its metals and sharp edges, Mathew’s took a more traditional, old-fashion design of dark wooden furniture and dim lighting – as close to a hunting lodge as he could get.

My eyes met my husband’s first when I walked into the room, he sat behind the large dark oak desk, his attention momentarily diverted from the folder in front of him. I gave him a small smile of greeting before turning my attention to his visitors who sat on matching dark leather armchairs on the opposite side. I nodded to them in greeting and they returned warm welcomes, knowing full well who I was.

“My apologies, gentlemen.” I said quickly, striding past them to my husband, who stood up to greet me. “Just some last-minute paperwork before I get ready for the gala tonight.” I explained handing the papers over to Mathews waiting hand.

“Off already?” He asked, surprised.

Ah Mathew – always the one to burn the midnight oil.

“It’s already getting dark.” I pointed, knowing full well he probably hadn’t looked at the time for at least 3 hours – too busy wrapped up in meetings or papers to ever look around his environment. He could work in the sewer and not care as long as the work kept coming in – it made me wonder why he’d bothered with such a nice office space. “Besides, I have to make sure everything is running smoothly,” I said, with a smile at the men sat across from me then smile in agreement, “and then I have to get ready myself – not all of us can just throw on a suit and turn up.” I added with a wink in the direction of the other men who chortled at my teasing.

“Fine, fine.” Mathew brushed me off with a slight hand gesture, too busy for my gentle ribbing right now and already flicking through the papers I had given him, his mind quickly becoming lost in them. “I’ll see you this evening then?” He asked, but I could tell he was already lost in the documents, so I gave him a small nod and headed for the door. “St. George’s?” Mathew suddenly called out to me and I turned to see him looking at me. I nodded again – his memory for things other than work rather poor. “Tonight then.” He said, half to himself, immediately re-immersing into his reading. over the corner of the dark wood desk to.

I gave a small smile to the other men and left the room.

I spent the rest of my evening darting around the venue for the gala later that night, checking the alcohol had arrived, the servers present, the decorations in place and any other little problem that was handed to me. It was a bit later than I hoped that I finally headed back to my flat. I spent the last few hours getting myself dolled up and ready to host, whilst also answering the phone that continued to ring for my attention – I never stopped working.

Work ruled my life now. It hadn’t always. I used to be young and foolish, carefree like many others in their 20’s. But then reality had hit me at 21 when I lost both my parents and soon found myself without any money. That had been a cold hard slap in the face at a time where I was used to having spare cash to throw around as I pleased. Suddenly I was forced to work to survive and I could no longer afford to be frivolous or waste my time on anything but improving my prospects.

But now I was better off than I had ever been – I made more money than anyone in my family had ever done, thanks to now owning one of the largest business in Gotham, rivalled only really now by Wayne Enterprises.

Yet I still worked constantly.

There had been a time when I was taunted by my colleagues for never 'letting my hair down', but I had simply regarded them as childish, they didn’t know me – no one really did, I had no friends left from the tie before my parent’s death – and no one could understand what my work meant to me.

I think I found enjoyment in it. In my work.

Before it had been a way to get money, to survive and then to be comfortable, and then secure.

Then it had become a coping mechanism to deal with the tragedy in my life, I had kept myself buried in the work load from the start to keep my mind busy on anything but what I had lost.

Now it thrilled me – the tense waiting for a deal to come through, the rush when you pulled off the biggest merger, the power of manipulation of those who hadn’t been in the game long enough to realise they could be so easily swayed by a few choice words.

It kept me going.

If I didn’t have my work - if I stopped for even a moment – I would surely collapse under the weight of everything I had been putting off for so long.

 After applying the last touch to my makeup I grabbed my clutch and shrugged a thin shawl over my shoulders, before I headed out into the night. I hailed a cab and sat silently in the back, tapping away at my phone and relishing in the peace behind I had to endure a night of socialising.

 I wasn’t a huge people person. I dealt with them because I had to, not because I wanted to - If I could have it my way it would be just my job and me, no one else. Not even Mathew.

Maybe that was why I didn’t mind manipulating and conning people the way I did, and maybe that was why I didn’t care that I never went out, my social life only comprising events like tonight - which was really just another night of working for me. After all, it was events like tonight where all the huge deals were make - there was at least one merger that hung in the balance this evening.

So that’s how I tricked myself into putting up with these things – it was just a large, slightly oddly laid out, meeting room, full of people to be seduced and persuaded into giving me their money and their businesses.

My problem was, few other people saw it like this.

And that’s how I ended up where I currently was.

I had entered the large venue room relatively late for the hostess and worked my way around a few of the groups of businessmen and socialites, chatting away where necessary, laying the foundation for further, more serious talks later. Eventually I had found my husband on the other side of the room, already engaged in a deep conversation with a couple of Bruce Wayne’s employees.

I had strode up to them, greeting the group of men warmly. Mathew had given me a small peck on the cheek – the obligatory mark of a man greeting the woman he was lawfully wedded to – no romance and little tenderness in the gesture, simply something to keep up the show of our relationship.

I had stood with them for a while, happily chatting about the ever elusive Mr. Wayne and how their company fared with the recent drop in certain stocks and rises in other areas, both of the sides staying just as closed up and carefully as the other.

If I could stay speaking to the men all night like this, these evenings were generally fine – all of us enjoying the discussions of numbers and profits. However, all too often I was singled out by my gender and driven over to the other women in the room – the businessman’s wives.

These ladies had no idea what a profit margin was or the difference between fixed and variable costs and instead insisted on talking about their family lives and the gossip amongst the rest of their little group.

My problem was, I didn’t care that Junior had just started walking, or Mary had just made it to high school, I didn’t care that Mark had just proposed to Sue or that James seemed bored of Kim. I had no interest in children – other peoples or my own – and I didn’t care about romantic partners – despite marrying Mathew.

But that had never been romantic – it had never been for ‘love’.

When I was younger my parents had always pushed that they wanted me married, and I had fallen for everything a young naïve child does about love at first sight and the hopes of being swept off my feet by a handsome stranger across the room.

Of course, that had gone with the rest of my foolishness after my parents had passed, but the question of marriage never seemed to leave the conversation - in fact, as I got older, the question of my single-hood became more and more repetitive.

That was about the time I had met Mathew. He had been in charge of a company of similar size to my own and we had been on the war path for quite some time - always trying to outdo one another. I had seen nothing there but two businesses fighting it out to be on the top.

Mathew had not.

After a particularly heated meeting between our two sides he had pulled me aside and waved a white flag, asking me to drinks that evening. I had seen it as a chance to ply him with alcohol and get some information from him and had accepted.

Information was not what I got however. I got a marriage proposal.

I thought it had been ridiculous at the time  – a simple whim from the man after too many whiskeys. But - ever being a business woman - I had not turned him down straight away. I let the offer linger.

The next few days I had considered my options, planned and reworked every outcome possible from the different sides of this ‘deal’ as I called it. I couldn’t see a reason not to say yes – if he agreed to my conditions.

And so, we had struck a deal. Our companies would merge, both of us would be joint, equal partners with it, and I would marry him - thereby removing the pressure of society off my back.

I never truly understood what he got from it – had he wanted the companies merged? Surely there was another way around other than marrying me? Had he ‘loved’ me? I was never sure and I still wasn’t sure of anything but that he definitely didn’t ‘love’ me anymore.

“So, any sign of children on the horizon for you, Leah?” The voice forced me to focus back in on the conversation around me as the 3 elegantly dressed women in front of me chattered away. This was the new repetitive question to replace that of marriage.

For the millionth time I shook my head, “We’re both so busy people.” I explained, “We don’t think it would be fair.”

“Me and Harvey thought that initially, but our nanny is perfect!” Explained the tall, stick thin woman to my right. I nodded and smiled as the conversation now switched to everyone’s current or previous nanny and nursery services.

I downed my glass and excused myself for a new drink, making my way over to one of the many small tables laid out with refreshments, in case the servers were busy elsewhere. I grabbed a fresh glass of champagne and found myself stood by the entrance to the vast room, hidden away from the pressing crowd behind a pillar.

I sipped at my drink, watching the tendrils of bubbles swirl and waltz in my champagne, as I recuperated from the suffocating mass of bodies.

A movement to my right caught my eye and I turned my head to see a man walking through the large double door entrance way to the room. He wore a tuxedo that fitted his frame perfectly, with no tie or bowtie and the top few buttons of his shirt undone to leave the muscles around his neck clearly visible. He carried a cane with him, occasionally using it, but mainly swinging it at his side in his white gloved hands.

This is in itself was unusual, but was not what initially caught my eyes. No, my eyes had been dragged by his long vibrant green hair that was slicked neatly back in place and the bright red lips that were only emphasised by his very pale, almost alabaster skin.

I couldn’t seem to look away from him, I was too intrigued by his appearance and the power he seemed to just exude as he stood there surveying the room. There was something very odd about him and I was certain he couldn’t have been on the guest list – so how did he get in?

He looked almost bored as he glared out into the room. He held himself different from anyone else, with a vast amount of self-confidence that suggested he was far more important than any of the other millionaires in the room and he seemed to be almost assessing the room, like a lion assessing a herd of prey. The look in his eyes made me shiver.

The movement seemed to catch his eye and his gaze darted straight to mine. I was used to people trying to stare me down to intimidate me - and I was good at holding my own -but the intensity of the look he gave me seemed to burn my eyes and the itch to drop my gaze was agonizing.

He started to step toward me, and even his walk was different, it was precise and graceful and it felt like he was stalking me. It was only as he got closer that his appearance became stranger, he didn’t have any eyebrows, and there was a ‘Damaged’ written in cursive on his forehead and a small J under his left eye.

“Well hello there...” He growled, eyeing me up and down, swinging his cane as he approached. “Aren’t you… Beautiful…” He snarled, his voice sounding sinful and - though I scowled at his vulgarity - I wasn’t nearly as disgusted as I should have been, instead I could feel my temperature rise by a few degrees. He held my gaze a bit longer, the icy blue seeming to trap me.

“Why don’t you be a doll, doll, and go get the man in charge.” He purred at me, breaking the eye contact off and surveying the crowded room.

"You’re looking at her, doll.” I mimicked, not amused by his patronising comment.

He raised his invisible eyebrows at me, “Hmm,” The pale man seemed to consider me with interest, “Fiery little cracker aren't ya, doll?” He asked, stepping closer towards me with a sneer on his face. I read the power play in his movements, many a man having tried this on me before - even Matt had attempt it when we first met. I stood my ground, reminding myself repeatedly that I could have this man thrown out of here easily – though I would prefer not to make a scene.

“No, sir.” I replied firmly, not amused by his childish mocking, “ I am just a woman hosting an important business gala with a very strict guest list. And I am certain that no child entertainers were required.” I told him sternly, eyeing him up and down with a look of distaste - though I had to admit some of it was forced - the sight in front of me not wholly unappealing.

The man’s upper lip curled at my comment, “Oh I can show you entertainment doll,” He purred threateningly, stepping even closer.

“Another step, and security will be in this room in less than 2 seconds, I guarantee it.” I warned him fiercely, standing tall and confident in my heels, determined now not give in under his intense blue stare.

He didn’t come any closer, but he also didn’t retreat, he just stood, a wide grin now stretching across his face and showing metal caps on the visible teeth, the shiny surface glinting in the overhead lights.

“So, tell me doll…” He growled lowly, placing his cane in front of him and leaning over on it so he came closer to me without taking a step, I scowled at him. “Who are you?”

“Who are you, and why are you here?” I asked instead, not willing to play his little game.

He grinned at me, “You don’t watch a lot of news do ya, doll?” He asked, a knowing gleam in his eyes that I didn’t like. I scowled at him moodily, “jeez doll, are you always this grumpy? He asked with a hint of mocking in his tone. “Won’t give without a take, hmm?” he asked with a tilt of his head, “Alright doll, first you, then me.”

I stared at him coldly, still refusing to be ordered around by this unusual man.

“Fine!” He moaned dramatically, exaggerating his eyes roll at my stubbornness. “I'll start.” He said, “I'm here to rob the place.”

At first, I thought this was just more of his seemingly twisted humour, but he sounded so serious…

“I'm calling security.” I stated, no longer wanting to put up with this strange man, and I made to move past him, heading towards the  service phone I knew was out in the hallway.

“Ah ah ah, doll.” He tutted at me, swinging his arm out to catch me as I strode past him. He was stronger than his thin, chiselled face led me to believe and I could feel the muscles in his arm flex under his jacket as he wrestled me backwards. One step back from me was all he needed and he swiftly pulled his arm back, now pushing a sharp point into my stomach. I gasped, tensing my stomach, trying to withdraw it from the point, but too scared what he might do if I moved. “Don't be such a tattle tale,” He sang playfully in my ear and then placed more pressure on the knife, the point digging through my dress and into my skin. I was forced to step backwards, and he only eased up when I was back to my original position.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” I demanded, though keeping my voice low to avoid making a huge scene over something I hoped I could handle.

He held up a finger to me, gesturing for me to wait, then, keeping the knife against my stomach, he used his other hand to dig into his jacket pocket to pull out a playing card which he handed over to me face down.

I took it wordlessly, wondering if he suddenly wanted to perform a magic trick. I frowned at him confused and turned the card over to reveal a joker.

I shook my head in confusion, “I don’t –“ I began, when I suddenly remembered. It was true, I didn’t watch a lot of local news, especially if nothing to do with stock markets – I didn’t have the time, I usually had someone else just produce a summary for me of all the daily costs and profits that would come in due to local occurrences – but I had heard the name Joker. An escape of Arkham Asylum and a crime lord on the streets of Gotham.

Was it time to get someone’s attention now? Should I scream?

Suddenly there was a finger inches away from my face, “Not a word doll.” He purred, pressing the knife harder into my stomach and I gasped.

“You're going to rob this place on your own?” I scoffed through the pain, trying to keep my cool, even if I was at knife point.

"Never underestimate a man without a plan!” He grinned sadistically at me and I could see the true sick and twisted nature in his eyes.

“Now doll…” He snarled dangerously, “Shall we continue?” He asked, his voice suddenly sickly sweet and painfully pleasant, “What is your name and what is it you do?”

I swallowed, trying not to move my stomach against the weapon too much. I was truly afraid for my life now, the truth of my situation only too clear now. “My name is Leah. I'm a partner of INK.” I quoted out as the knife bit into my skin.

“Wow, doll. A real successful business woman.” He seemed impressed, “Who are the other partners?” He asked, pushing even harder on the knife.

“Just my husband.” I gasped, scrunching my eyes closed at the pain, the pressure forcing me to bend over slightly.

He retracted the knife slightly, giving me a small amount of relief, “Your husband, hmm?” He asked, as though generally intrigued, “And where is he?”

I didn’t know why the psychotic clown wanted to know and I definitely didn’t want to answer – I wouldn’t sell out my husband to this criminal clown, but I also knew I was about to be skewered with a knife if I didn’t tell him. “Whatever you want with him you can take up with me!” I told him fiercely.

“Brave, doll, I see.” He muttered, nodding, “But that wasn’t an answer to the question, was it?”He snarled, “So, I’ll ask again,” He said, a fierceness in his voice this time that made me cower until his gaze, “Where. Is. He?”

I swallowed again, trying to embrace the pain like I knew some people were able to. I continued to refuse to answer, staring at him in a stubborn silence, fighting against the tears of pain that were threatening in the corners of my eyes.

“Come on now, doll.” He urged, his teeth clenched together like he was restraining himself from doing something, “It’s only a simple question of interest,” He sneered, “Promise I won't harm him.” He pleaded mockingly, but at the same time I felt the knife again, and I scrunched my face at the pain.

What was I going to do? He had promised not to hurt him after all. Sure, I doubted an Arkham patient and crime lord was going to be a man of his word, but it was better than nothing right? Or was that just the pain and alcohol talking?

I didn’t want to be the reason Mathew got hurt, but here I was being basically tortured into giving information.

Whilst I debated in my head, eyes on the floor, and partially doubled over in pain, the Joker leant over me, bending down to my ear, “If he was in your position, would he be as gallant for you?” His warm breath brushed past my ear and I wasn’t sure if I trembled or shivered, the movement causing the knife to cut a bit deeper.

Would he, though? I wondered. I wanted to say I couldn’t be sure, but deep down I felt like I knew the answer.

I pulled myself upright slightly, ignoring the protest of my skin as the blade point scraped down my skin. At the movement, the Joker released some of the pressure on the knife, giving me a brief relief from the pain, though the now-tender skin still stung with the memory.

I didn’t say anything, feeling the knife drop away completely as I turned my back on the Joker. I scanned the crowded room until my gaze fell on a group of three men in suits stood chatting, each holding a small glass of an amber liquid. My eyes focused on the tallest man, neatly shaven, his brown hair combed neatly back and in a smart black suit with a crisp white shirt underneath.

“Ahh...” the Joker breathed behind me, confirming that he had seen the man. “Now tell me doll, has he even spared a moment for you this evening, hmm?” He asked quietly in my ear, another shiver passing down my spine at his breath on my neck and how close he was behind me.

 My eyes were glued to my husband’s figure, begging him to turn around and look at me, see the fear and panic in my eyes, if only for a moment.

But he didn't feel my gaze on the side of his face, or if he did, he chose to ignore it, continuing his conversation animatedly, without a care to the trauma his wife was experiencing across the room.

“Shame.” Purred the Joker behind me and I felt his hand drift to my hip, the knife point now digging into my back.

tags: @carouselcurls @6fish6 (I wasn't sure who wanted to be tagged in this as it's not Deadly voice - but the 2 I have tagged seemed to enjoy all my work so I thought you might want to read it?)

[thejokersenigma]

Hi guys,

If anyone is waiting for anymore writing from me, I apologise in the delay! I am currently quite close to finishing a Jervis Tetch Fanfic that was requested a short while ago, after that I’ll get back to my other series - probably focusing on the next part of Strictly Business, but recently all my evenings have been quite busy so I haven’t had much time so writing progress is so slow!

I apologise a load for the delay, I live writing and hearing from you guys so I’m sorry uni has been getting in the way so much!

I’ve gotta few days off next week where I’m heading home so hopefully I’ll have some more free time then to write!

Sorry again!

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader - Deadly Voice Part 44

Hi guys, back for the next part!

It's quite a long one, but nothing much exciting really happens, but you'll be glad to know that the part after this is nearly finished so it shouldn't take too long to get the next bit out!

Anyway, Enjoy! :)

(Thank you so much for all the encouraging likes and messages you guys send me! I literally live off all of your support! xx)

I you would like to be tagged let me know, or if you have any requests I will happily give them a go! :)

P.S If you've asked to be tagged and I haven't done so on this piece can you let me know again? I am trying to make a list but I can't remember who's asked me! Sorry I'm really forgetful!

MASTERLIST

When I work up I briefly noted how bright the room was before I then closed my eyes again, snuggling back into the bed, drawing the covers tighter around my chilled shoulders, intent on trying to cling to the remains of my slumber and maybe fall back to the peace that was my sleep.

But I couldn’t stop the brightness penetrating through my thin eyelids and I could feel I had lost that small hope of sleep and I drifted back to reality once again. I still refused to open my eye though - enjoying just lying in bed – and I began my usual ritual of running through the list of today’s tasks I needed to get done.

That was when my memory flooded back to me.

I felt the panic surge through me, my heart pounding. Shit.

What was going on?!

I shouldn’t have a duvet. I shouldn’t a pillow.

I should be in a bare room filled with old dusty furniture and I should be lying on a bare mattress.

I opened my eyes now - cautiously in case I wasn’t the only person in the room – to see that I was lying on my right side facing a wall of familiar dark green wallpaper with gold swirling patterns. I glanced down the length of the bed and - sure enough - there was the large glass doors that led onto the balcony.

I was back in the Joker’s room again.

I cautiously turned over, searching for anyone else in the room with me. No one. I was alone. But this was definitely the Joker’s room.

Maybe one of the henchmen had moved me - maybe it was Frost. If I could find him quickly I could - not only talk to him about personal boundaries - but also convince him not to tell the Joker I had disobeyed him. I didn’t really want him to know if I could help it. Maybe then I could talk to him civilly about new sleeping arrangements if I ever saw him within the next week.

Whatever I was going to do, I wasn’t going to get anything done lying here. I shoved myself upright and began to shuffle myself to the side of the bed, just swinging my legs over the side when the bathroom door swung inwards, my head shooting up at the movement, the rest of me freezing on the bed.

The Joker stood in the doorway of the bathroom, hair wet and slicked back with a few strands falling out of place across his face. He wore nothing but a towel on his hips, my eyes drawn to the many inked illustrations on view which seemed to move with each flex of his muscles.

“Afternoon, doll.” He greeted at my figure, frozen in the act. I barely registered that it was the afternoon and I must have slept at least half of the day away, too stunned by his sudden appearance to do much more than stare at him in shock. “Enjoying yourself, doll?” He asked with a lazy grin, breaking my day dream and I snapped my eyes up to him, feeling the blush heating my cheeks.

“Yes I am.” I respond defiantly, shocked at the words out of my mouth. The Joker laughed and I wasn’t sure if it was because of what I said, or the look of pure surprise on my face that I had said them.

“I trust you slept well, doll?” He asked pleasantly, with a sickly sweet smile, sounding genuinely intrigued.

I frowned at him quizzically – that was very out of character for him. “Uh, fine thanks.” I answered - did he not know that I had left the room? Had no one told him? A large grin spread across his face at my answer – as though he shared an inside joke – so he did know? I frowned in confusion at him.

“My night was fine too doll, thanks for asking.” He teased sarcastically stepping into the room – He watched me for a moment as though waiting to catch something in my eyes, but I tried to hide any guilt that might be there and I thought I had got away with it, but then his eyes turned steely, “Imagine my surprise though, doll.” He started, stepping further into the room and waving an arm about theatrically, “when I return to the house last night to find my honoured guest had scorned all the luxuries I had provided!” He cried dramatically, “Choosing instead to stay in an old dusty room with a worn-out mattress and no bed sheets - not even a pillow!” He cried in false distress, one hand to his heart, now stood before me at the foot of the bed.

“You had arranged for me to sleep in your own bed!” I defended strongly, not amused by his little theatre production, “I didn’t think that was appropriate.”

“Tell me then doll,” He said, leaning in toward me, causing me to recoil from his close proximity, his large Cheshire grin too close for my comfort, “why did you think it ‘inappropriate’ to sleep in my bed, and yet you’ll happily wear my clothes?” He asked pleasantly.

Shit. I looked down at my lap – sure enough I was still in his shirt and tracksuit bottoms. I could feel the red in my cheeks increase. Maybe I had crossed a line there – some people were precious about this kind of thing. But, thanks to my new confidence, I wasn’t backing down that easily, “Maybe if you’re going to insist on providing people with clothes you ought to include a more modest section for those whose careers don’t rely on a pole stuck in the floor!” I retaliated sharply.

I thought I’d gone too far then, and I dropped the scowl on my face quickly, panicking that his famous temper would flare at me. He paused a moment, his face serious and considering, then he broke into laughter, pulling himself upright again and chuckling to himself as he disappeared into the walk-in closet to this right.

I scowled at his muscular back as he left me sat on the bed, confused by his almost amiable behaviour and unsure what to do now. Was this how he was going to get me to smile? Just be a bit nicer to me? Well it wasn’t going to work, I thought defiantly, scowling to myself.

The door to the closet remained open, the Joker hidden behind it, but I could hear the sound of drawers opening and sliding shut. I didn't know what to do. I was still sat, half under the covers in the joker’s bedroom – in his clothes -  whilst the man himself was now getting dressed in the room opposite.

Out of context this situation looked a lot different to the one it was.

And now the idea of the Joker probably naked just behind that door was stuck in my mind. My thoughts wandered for a moment as to what that looked like, but I quickly shook my head away from that path – that was not a thought trail I should be going down.

I looked around the room desperately – what could I do? I felt extremely awkward just sat on the bed – unsure where to go or what was expected of me and the Joker only a few metres away. My eyes fell on the bathroom door. There was no lock on it – I remembered that – but I could still at least hide in there for a bit – I felt too vulnerable here.

I slid out of bed silently and crept quickly, but silently to the bathroom door, trying not to catch the Joker’s attention if I could help it and practically jumping over the threshold into the bathroom, closing door sharply behind me.

I leant against the wood for a moment, my heart racing. I was safe – well safer anyway.

I had no way of telling how long I hid in that bathroom.

I tried to just act normal to start with, brushing my teeth, washing my face, just taking my time with each and keeping half an ear out for the sound of the bedroom door to tell me the Joker had left.

That was the longest time I had ever spent brushing my teeth.

I thought I had heard the door go, but I was worried my ears were lying to me when I thought I heard another sound in the room. Eventually I couldn’t stand it any longer and left the bathroom, sneaking silently around the room, peering into any space I thought the Joker could hide in until I was convinced the room was empty.

I laughed shakily to myself at the extremes I was going through as I got dressed – managing to find a few pieces of clothing that covered at least some of skin and weren’t see-through or torn in strategic areas.

Now I stood in the middle of the room not sure what to do now. I was starving, but where was the kitchen? And was I just allowed to go there and help myself to what I wanted? And where was the Joker?

I remained there for a few moments unsure how to proceed till I gained the courage to leave the room. I wandered the house blindly for a time, trying to retrace the steps I had taken with Frost the day before, until I eventually reached the top of the grand staircase where a couple of armed henchmen stood guard outside a door.

I asked for directions from them and then begrudgingly instructed me to the kitchen which I followed and, after still managing to make a few wrong turns, I finally found my way to it.

Similar to the rest of the house, this room too, was huge. It had clearly been originally designed to be a historic-looking kitchen, once having the large fireplace, enough room for a huge farmhouse table in the middle and any other contraptions you wanted. But now it was revamped, a huge island with bar stools taking up the middle of the room and all the counters and technology having a very modern and metal look to them.

I wandered around the large room, opening drawers out of sheer curiosity and stumbling upon gadgets I didn’t even know existed. It was an oddly stocked kitchen for a house that was supposedly never used.

I hadn’t been in there long when Frost had found me, materialising in the doorway and making me jump. Though he seemed just as surprised to see me as I, him. He looked me up and down, as if looking for something.

“Frost?” I asked, when I’d managed to get my heart into my chest, “What’s up?” I asked, confused by his expression.

He pulled himself upright, resuming his professional stance – I guess he was working after all, “Just surprised to see you still standing.” He told me.

I looked at him confused, “Why wouldn’t I be…” I began, then it hit me, "Frost, what happened last night?”

He furrowed his brow, confused I didn’t know. “I wanted to ask you the same thing.” He said cryptically.

I frowned back at him, “You don’t know?”

“I know you didn’t stay in the room assigned to you.” He admitted, “Boss was pretty mad when he found out.”

“So he does know?” I asked grimacing, “Were you the one that moved me?”

Frost looked at me confused, “Moved you? No. Boss sent us all away once we tracked you down. He closed the door after that but I’d seen that look before on his face and I didn’t think you would make it out alive, let alone unharmed.” He admitted, his mind somewhere else.

Wonderful. I had been asleep in the same room as a pissed off psychotic murderer.

“So how did I get back in the Joker’s room?” I asked, more to myself than to Frost. But I already knew the answer.

Frost shrugged anyway, “He must have carried you back.”

I couldn’t believe it. I stared wide eyed at the kitchen island in front of me. The Joker had carried me, sleeping, in his arms. I could feel my face burning red. Did I snore? Had I had bad breath? Was I heavy? Oh my God this was mortifying.

I knew I should be annoyed at him – pretty pissed actually – that he had forced me basically to sleep in the same bed as him. But right now, all I could feel was an intense burning embarrassment. I was no longer worried that I had been that close to being murdered, I was too busy worrying if I’d made a fool of myself whilst unconscious.

And – wait. He’d been in the same room as me this morning. Did we sleep together? I could feel my eyes widened as the events of last night became clearer. Oh no.

“Ergh!” I groaned in frustration and humiliation, placing my hand forehead in disgrace.

Frost watched me uncomfortably, clearly not sure what to do, “Look,” He said, trying to break through my anguish, “I need to get back to work – I only came down because George said he’d seen you wandering around and asking for directions.” He told me. “Help yourself to anything around the place, no room is off limits but I would stay away from the room directly opposite the stairs – that’s the Boss’s office.” I nodded at him as I took the information in, remembering the door with the men outside, wondering if one of them was ‘George’.

Frost gave me a small smile and quick apology before making to stride off into the house. “Oh,” he recalled suddenly stopping in the doorway, “Boss would like you to join him this evening for a drive.” He informed me.

“Tell him no thanks.” I muttered, “Not sure I have the energy in me to deal with him tonight.” Frost frowned at me, clearly not happy with my response, but gave me a quick nod anyway before continuing back into the depths of the house.

I contemplated the consequences of my decision as I helped myself to some food. Would the Joker be mad I had turned him down? Of course, he would. Would he do anything about it was more what I should be concerned about.

I shuffled around the cupboards as I thought, once again surprised to find that the kitchen was stock to the brim with fresh produce and I had to wonder if it was because of me, or if they always had to keep it stocked in case the Joker made a sudden decision to spend some time here.

The whole time I was in the kitchen I saw no one else – so much so I did consider spending the whole day in the kitchen - but I decided I couldn’t spend a whole week in this huge house just hauled up in this one room, so, after I was done eating, I set out to explore the rest of the maze-like mansion.

There were so many rooms.

There were at least 3 rooms that appeared to be lounges with different arrays of entertainment kits, a large fancy dining room that looked like it was never used, a few rooms that seemed dedicated to drinking alone, the large garage I had arrived via last night and – I noted for future reference – a large library stacked from floor to ceiling with shelves of dusty books.

I was glad to see that none of these rooms seemed to have undergone the redecorating that the hall had, no green paint or bullet holes in sight.

I continued around the ground floor of the house, finding many rooms empty or so dusty that I couldn’t stop sneezing upon entering. I paused when I came across a large conservatory-like room at what must have been the back of the house.

It was humid in here, the rain pattering lightly on the glass roof above. Through the wall of windows in front of me lay a large green lawn with neatly trimmed hedges around the borders, the boundaries stretching out of sight over a hill and the bare outlines of skyscrapers just visible in the distance against the grey sky.

“You know, doll, it’s rude to turn down your host when they offer you a night out?” Came a voice from behind that sent shivers down my back. The voice sounded soft, but dangerous and I turned slowly to meet the Joker standing in the double door entrance to the room.

“Got plans already, huh?” he mocked, “Shame.” He pouted at me cruelly, “Maybe tomorrow night.”

“No thank you.” I managed out, though my voice was croaky and faltered slightly. “I don’t particularly want to do anything with you.” I said bravely.

“No?” He questioned, feigning surprise, “Come now doll,” he teased, “if you keep refusing to even let me try to make you smile, that’s cheating.” He purred dangerously, holding my gaze and his eyes seemed to become stormier, his mouth breathing louder and harsher. I swallowed thickly, regretting my previous words.

“Boss?”

The Joker snarled and span to face the henchman that had appeared next to him, brandishing a piece of paper at arms length as though it was a white flag. The Joker snatched it from him, his eyes darting over the paper as he read it. His jaw clenched and he crumpled the paper in his fist, grumbling something under his breath that sound like ‘If you want something done you gotta do it yourself.’ He gaze shot back up to mine swiftly “Later then, Doll.” He said before departing, the henchman following quickly on behind.

I didn’t linger in that room, just in case the Joker decided to pay me another visit and finish whatever he wanted to do a moment ago. Instead, I continued to wander the house until I finally found my way back to the familiar entrance way, the harsh graffiti and knife art no longer really bothering me anymore. I headed immediately for one door in particular, pushing it open, surprised to see the room hadn’t changed in the slightest.

The large, plump arm chairs still sat next to the unlit fireplace, the dark wood bookshelves still pushed up against the back wall, and the decanter with its matching crystal glasses still sat on the small coffee table between the chairs. And, of course - still sat nestled under the large window that looked out over the front lawn - was the beautiful piano.

I drifted into the room, able to take my time now to examine every inch of the room without the fear from the last time. It was a beautiful room, practically tiny compared to the rest of the house, but still very large compared to anything I had ever lived in.

I sat myself down in one of the cushiony armchairs, admiring the detailed patterns that adorned the fireplace and surveying the rest of the room. Eventually though, I could no longer resist it anymore and stood up, heading straight for the piano. I hesitated, admiring the instrument from afar before I sat gently on the old, faded stool stroking the key cover and lifting it up, a strong sense of déjà vu overcoming me.

The keys, yellow with age, lay out perfectly just begging to be used and I stroked them with longingly.

Frost had said help myself to anything I wanted - there was no one around to disturb here anyway.

So I pressed a key. The noise sounded ridiculously loud to my ears that were so used to the echoing silence of the large house. I waited a few beats, to see if anyone responded to the noise, but when nothing happened I took that as enough reassurance to push another key. I waited again.

I slowly grew in confidence with each passing moment of no response or movement from the rest of the house, soon playing more and more keys until the notes no longer sounded painfully loud to me and I eventually began to play a silly little tune I had been taught when I learnt to play.

My fingers danced over the keys fluidly until I made the tune more complex and intricate, soon forming the music of a song I knew. It didn’t take long before I got caught up in the melody, beginning to hum the song and then sing the words quietly at first and then gaining in volume, though never louder than normal talking level.

I continued to press away at the keys, not taking a break between one song and the next, just playing continuously.

That was until I heard a floorboard creek outside the door. I jumped, my hands slipping on the keys and making a painfully out-of-tune noise. I instantly spun around to the source of the noise, only to find the Joker stood framed in the doorway.

Déjà vu indeed.

He surveyed me for a moment in silence and I wondered if he would continue with what he had wanted to say earlier or if he was going to berate me for making too much noise or daring to be in this room when there was a strict rule, that I was unaware of that, prohibited it.

Or maybe – given he was the Joker and wholly unpredictable – he might just crack a joke at my expense and leave.

However, he did none of these things. He just stood there in silence, the dark shadow around his eyes showing that - though he slept last night - it wasn’t nearly enough.

He lingered only a few moments longer and then he was gone as suddenly as he had come.

I watched the empty doorway for a few moments but he didn’t return. I got up and closed the door quietly - not wanting anymore unexpected audiences - and returned to my music, my heart was still erratic from surprise, and half an ear open for any more footsteps on the floor outside the door.

It was only later that day, as I climbed the stairs to explore the top of the house, that I heard a familiar sound.

Was that my voice.

It was soft and quiet but I could definitely hear it. I back tracked down the hallway till I reached the top of the stairs again. There were no men outside the door this time and I could press up close to the wood.

Sure enough, there it was - quiet but still audible - me and the piano from earlier playing out quietly in the Joker’s office.

I didn’t know what to think about it, so I pushed it to the back of my mind and hurried down the corridor out of sight before I got caught again.

tags: @carouselcurls @6fish6 @viraldragonrider @theartistdetective @white-chocolate-mocha-fan

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader Strictly Business Masterlist

Summary: A request I was given: 

‘Hi there! I have a request if you don’t mind ;) How about Joker got obsessed with a married woman? I’m just dying to see what he’s going to do. I don’t want to limit your imagination, but still a little application… I just see that marriage was more like marriage of convenience in a good way. Maybe this woman and her husband are like business partners too.’

There were a few particular they wanted, but this was the rough idea

After beginning to write this I got carried away and as the Anon didn’t specify if this was suppose to be a oneshot or not I’ve decided to spilt it up into multiple parts to give it justice! (otherwise it would be huge because I’m really bad at writing small pieces of work!)

Anyway, hope you enjoy it!

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Oc/Reader You're Insane - Part 2

Hello guys,

So this will be my new fanfiction series I'll focus on once Deadly Voice is finished, but because I'm having a momentary lapse in imagination and ideas for Deadly Voice I thought I give this one a go for the moment as I still wanted to write.

Firstly - yes this I've changed the name - it use to be called That's You, but I didn't like that name (I'm not sure about this name either but we'll see)

Secondly - I am writing this as a Arkham Joker Fan fiction, but tbh, if you can imagine it working for any other Joker I won't take offense if you want to see it as a Jaredleto Joker or whatever other Joker you want (personally Arkham Joker is just my favourite)

Thirdly - Yes I have changed from third person to first person - I just naturally write in first person so I stopped fighting it - sorry if that's annoying, i'll keep it in first person from now on!

Fourthly - Yes I have put a name to the character in the first chapter - I will keep it, but feel free to turn it into a reader fan fiction in your own mind!

My writing is what you make it!

Anyway, I think that's it - hope you enjoy! :)

MASTERLIST

You're Insane MASTERLIST

 I was fed up.

I had been sat at my new desk all day working non-stop - not that the desk was new – in fact it looked to be the oldest and most worn out one in the entire room. This was not made any better by the fact the view was terrible – there was none - it was literally a pillar. A pillar.

If I wanted to see the rest of the room I had to crane my neck around the huge thing. This meant that I missed out on all the interesting things that actually took place around me – like the thugs brought in or the brawls that broke out amongst the criminals in the holding cells. I felt so left out from the rest of the things going on I even wished I could see the other officers arguing over whose case was whose or who had taken the last donut.

But no.

It was just me and the pillar.

Great.

I let out a long sigh in defeat.

I had honestly really hoped that I’d have been put on a case straight away – a foolish hope I now realised. The captain of GCPD had done exactly what every other male in the room had done when I had walked in. Tagged me by my gender and decided I would have to prove myself to some extraordinary standard that no man ever had to.

That meant I was not yet ‘good enough’ – despite my rigorous training and high grades to land this job in the first place – to be put on a case. Instead, I had been landed with all the paperwork that the older officers couldn’t be bothered to do.

So, whilst they were out roaming the streets and responding to calls, I was sat writing out all their reports they felt were too boring to waste their own time on. I couldn’t complain though. That would only set me even further away from getting a chance on a case – no one liked a whiner. Especially no a girl.

So, I had spent the entire day slowly whittling my way through the pile I had been given, writing up document, after document of petty crimes and inappropriate behaviour which only ever added up to a night or two in a cell.

I pulled the next blank report in front of me, shaking my right hand where it was cramping – and had been for the last two hours. I glanced back at my pile – at least I was now over 2/3rds of the way through, I observed thankfully. This would be the last for the day, I told myself.

I had hoped to get them all done before I left, but the evening was wearing on and I was already the last person in the main hall - most of the officers off on evening duty or already retired for the night. I peered around the large stone pillar and noted all the empty desks sat forlorn in the darkness, the only decent light in the room coming from the small lamp sat on the desk next to me, pouring a warm glow on my paperwork.

I had been debating staying late to finish the work, but I had overestimated my ability, my eyes dropping, my mind making mistakes, and my handwriting becoming messier as the muscles in my hand protested.

My plan was simple for this place was simple - complete all the menial tasks I was given as quickly and thoroughly as possible until they eventually ran out of things for me to do – then they would be forced to let me on a case.

I rubbed at my eyes, trying to fight back her heavy lids, God knew how long it would take though for my plan to work. I stretched my arms up over my head, feeling my joints click from the lack of movement. I glanced back down at the empty document in front of me, waiting to be filled, and let out a loud groan in defeat.

I dropped my arms back down, shuffling unenthusiastically through the papers on my desk for the sheet of notes complied for me to fill in the documents, pulling it into place to the side of me. I then turned back to the blank report and filled out the usual details - the report number, the date, the address, the officer that reported to the scene etc. Then I read the next box on the report.

NAME OF OFFENDER:

I yawned widely, turning to the notes on my left.

UNKNOWN

I frowned. Weird, I thought, maybe this was a new criminal that had refused to disclose their identity – maybe they were running his prints or researching into him.

I turned to the next box.

ALIAS:

I glanced once again at my notes,

JOKER.

I could feel my eyes widen and my heart rate increase excitedly. The Joker. This was the case Harvey had refused for me to look at earlier. I couldn’t help but grin – finely something interesting - maybe paperwork wasn’t so bad after all – I might even enjoy filling this one in

I shifted in my seat, more awake now, and settled myself in to read the report as I copied the notes across.

TARGET: Gotham General Hospital

Why attack a hospital?

POINT OF ENTRY/EXIT:  Entry – Unknown              Exit – 2nd Floor Window

Jeez, I thought, he’d jumped from a 2nd story window? I kept reading, really intrigued now.

METHOD OF ATTACK: chemical/gas, Knife.

Chemicals? Gas? I had more questions than answers now.

NARRATIVE:

The Joker was reported to have been seen at Gotham General Hospital at 02:56. Upon police arrival all exits were blocked off and the hospital was stormed. Security reported blocking the assailant into the left wing of the hospital. Upon gaining access numerous staff members were found poisoned by the so-called ‘laughing gas’ or stabbed to death, others had wounds that may still prove fatal.

Upon my command, all rooms were searched by officers of the GCPD – no patients appeared to have been harmed by the attacker, but it was noted that a graffitied letter had been written above numerous beds (See attached picture).

I stopped my writing to dig through my notes once more. Sure enough, there – attached to the by a paper clip to the back of my notes - were several photographs, each of different rooms and each with a letter written above them in bright red paint that spelled TOLGELOWBEM.

I then noted a small black number in the right-hand corner of each of the photos that indicated the room number each picture was taken in. I immediately rearranged the photos in the order they would have been in, had you walked down the hospital corridor, soon realising it was spelling something out.

GET WELL BOOM

I was left with one last picture.

This one wasn’t of a patient’s room, but of a door whose lock had been busted open by something that had singed the wood around it. There was no letter this time either, instead - drawn with the same red paint – there was a large red smiling face, much like a emoticon or sticker you’d get from a teacher at school -  but this face had eyebrows drawn on, low and pointed, which gave it a menacing, almost bloody thirsty look.

I turned back to writing out the report,

The message led me to believe a blast was planned and I directed fellow officers to evacuate patients immediately.

Unfortunately, the explosion occurred only moments later, and – though the explosives were deemed to be small scale and destroyed only the medical supply closet and the room’s adjacent – we still lost Officer Raden and 2 patients. Others sustained reasonable injuries.

The Joker’s whereabouts were confirmed to me later when I approached a fellow officer amongst the patrol cars outside Gotham General, who informed me that witnesses had seen a man jumping from the 2nd floor before the explosion had occurred. By the time any officers reported to this area there were no traces of the criminal.

Later the patient’s rooms were searched again for evidence, however the only thing that was found was a playing card under the pillows in each bed. (see picture).

I flung my notes around again, looking for the missing picture. Finally, I saw it hidden beneath my finished pile of reports. I pulled it out. It was a picture of a playing card – the Joker card. Clearly, he left a calling card.

I placed the picture aside, and continued with the report.

STOLEN VEHICLE: N/A

RECOVERED BY: N/A

STOLEN PROPERTY: UNKNOWN

TOTAL STOLEN: UNKNOWN

TOTAL RECOVERD: N/A

TOTAL DAMAGED: PROCESSING

I finished off writing up the rest of the little nitty gritty boxes – though I felt like I was filling in UNKNOWN or N/A a lot – and finally signed it. I leant back in my rickety chair, staring at the finished document, my imagination whirling with the information, painting the scene in my own mind.

Damn, I wished I had been there. I had spent my whole life – particularly the last few years during my studying - just reading about these things. Now I was finally in the position to be a part of it and I was still held back, forced to sit here and write till my hand no longer functioned.

I scowled at my desk, now thoroughly fed up. I definitely needed to go to bed.

But at the same time, I knew now sleep would escape me, my mind too busy working on the case.

Why make the effort to write the message on the wall? I wondered. Why hint at what was about to happen? Why not just do what you came to do and get out of there before the police had come? The guy had wasted precious time by doodling on the walls and door – it was risky and unnecessary – so why?

And what had he actually been there for? The report gave no indication if anything had been stolen but there had been a few deaths – had he been there to murder someone? But if he had, why an explosion? Why not just slip into the room – like he had obviously been able to do – and kill them with the knife or this ‘laughing gas’ poison – whatever that was – instead of taking out a huge chunk of the hospital? He might have even been able to get away with that and be miles away before every knew. And why leave the playing card behind?

It was a weird crime. An odd crime. Nothing really made sense. I didn’t know if it was due to the lack of details or the just the crime itself.

I read through the report again. Every aspect seemed confusing to me, excessive, theatrical. It was like the crime alone was too boring for the guy, he had to make it more dramatic.

This man was definitely intriguing, I thought with a frown - nothing he did made any sense. I just wished I could know a bit more about him, but Harvey had been adamant about keeping the case file away from me.

Suddenly I sat up, glancing around the pillar and surveying the room again. No one in sight. I knew there was a chance some people were still in the building – the forensic team seemed to be the type to stay late - but the main hall that I – and Detective Bullock’s desk – sat in was empty.

I stood up abruptly, stretching again, letting a few more joints pop, before I gave the room another glance around, and then headed for my target across the room.

 It was a long shot that it would be there, but it wouldn’t hurt to check.

His desk was a mess. There was a cup of cold coffee sat at the top of the desk, next to which, sat an empty takeaway container which seemed to have been home to something rather greasy. I wrinkled my nose in disgust at the lingering scent coming from the polystyrene box, trying to focus my attention on the rest of the desk which was filled with papers stamped marked with coffee stains and completely out of order.

I wasn’t a neat freak, but this was ridiculous.

I carefully sifted through the papers, trying not to move them too much from their original position – though I doubted he’d notice – all the time searching for one key word – Joker.

I had no luck on the desk top, so I turned to the few drawers underneath, praying that Harvey was as lazy and cocky as he looked, and wouldn’t have bothered to lock them.

My suspicions were correct and the first draw I pulled at opened easily, revealing note pads hidden amongst a number of chocolate wrappers. No sign of the file.

I frowned, dropping down to the next drawer. This one was stiffer and I had to wriggle it a bit to work it open. Eventually it slid free and I dug around amongst a few scraps of paper and memos to finally find a pile of case files.

I lifted them out all out, flicking through them until, there - the fourth one in – was the ‘Joker’s’.

I grinned triumphantly, carefully replacing the rest of the pile back in the drawer and sliding it closed again, before I skipped quickly back to my desk – though the chance of anyone catching me was slim – her heart pounding from the risk I had took and the excitement of my find.

Safely seated back in my uncomfortable wooden chair, I unfolded the file on my desk.

The first thing that caught my attention was the lack of picture of the person in question. It surprised me for a moment, but it was possible that whatever photo they had was being used to hand out to people when questioning for his whereabouts.

I didn’t waste too much attention on this peculiarity, focusing instead on the rest of the file.

NAME: UNKNOWN          ALIAS: JOKER

GENDER: MALE                 HEIGHT: 6’5”                      WEIGHT: 192IBS

ADDRESS: UNKNOWN

PREVIOUS CONVICTION(S):  THEFT, ARMED ROBBERY, MURDER, ARSON, KIDNAPPING … –

He was a criminal – that was sure given his very extensive list of criminal acts – but why had Harvey been so insistent on not letting me see this information? As far as I could see, there was nothing that unusual about him – so what made him different to any other criminal? Or was Harvey going to act like this about every case? Did he just think I couldn’t handle the ‘big scary criminals’?

I read the file again, the information was vague and not very detailed – maybe people knew him enough about him it didn’t need to be written down?

The only odd thing I could see was that he had no name – did he really have no name? And – something that just caught my eye – he was an escapee from Arkham Asylum – the looney house just outside of the city.

That might explain the oddness of his most recent crime.

But how had a mad man managed to escape from the prison-like asylum? And surely a raving lunatic running around the streets of Gotham wasn’t difficult to find, right?

So why had he been free for – I glanced at the date of his escape – over 2 months!

Surely someone had seen him by now? Tracked him down?

I raised an eyebrow at the file in confusion - was I missing something?

I spent a few more moments reading over the case file and the report again, only becoming more frustrated with the increase of questions in my mind and the lack of information I had.

Eventually I gave up. I tidied up my desk ready for my return the following morning, dreading the pile of work that still remained on my desk. Finally, I reluctantly closed the Joker’s case file – after convincing myself there was no way I could get away with taking it home - and returned it silently to the drawer in Harvey’s desk.

I grabbed my stuff and headed out of the old building and back to my flat, my mind still filled with the enigma that was the ‘Joker’.

I was sure of one thing.

I wanted in on this case.

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

(so this is a newish fan fiction of mine and I wasn't sure if anyone was interested so I tagged my Deadly voice list - let me know if you don't want to be tagged in this one and I'll remove you from the future list!)

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader - Deadly Voice Part 41

Hi guys, next part is about ready, I've been messing around with it a bit, but decided this one is probably better off shorter than normal. The start is a bit rough (I just couldn't figure out how to write it) but it gets a bit better after that!

Anyway - hope you enjoy and thank you for you continual support!

As always - if you want to be tagged in the future let me know.

Also if anyone wants me to try requests I am happy to have a go! Be it imagines, one parts or multi part fan fics! :)

Masterlist

 There were a couple of reasons my head ached in that moment – one, the lingering effect of whatever knockout drugs had been given to me, and two, the snap decision I had made to work with Bobby and get her back in my head.

I was regretting that now.

A weird sensation had overcome me when I shoved into her – like someone had poured a bucket of cold water over me – and then there had been the intense feeling of my head ripping open, though I felt no pain. Now I was still crouched at the back of the 4x4 in a cold sweat and shivering as I stared at the dead body lying in front of me.

Had Bobby done that in the transition? I had been attempting to do it myself, but I couldn’t seem to ready the gun in my panic - that’s what had finally decided for me to work with Bobby – to save my life.

I had expected chaos to ensue at the gun shot - for the other guards to start yelling, running at me or firing their own weapons -  but it was completely silent, no movement apparent out of the corner of my eyes as I stared at the body.

I could see the perfectly round hole in his skull and watched the blood that trickled down the side of his face, pooling somewhere in the dark on the tarmac.

I swallowed dryly, did Bobby really make me do that? At least she was gone now, safely back in my head. I’d done it for my best interest really – at least that’s what I had told myself. At the time, I needed to be able to do something about the henchman coming at me, now I felt like I would need the confidence and strengths of Bobby to deal with the Joker. And, if what she said was true, I would feel far more in control of what I was doing this time – not just when I got angry – I just needed to embrace it properly. However, judging by the corpse in front of me, I wasn’t sure if she’d been telling the truth.

But yet, the bullet hole -  still oozing a dark blood that glinted in areas thanks to small patch of light in front of me -  was in the back of his head. How could I have shot him in the back of his head – unless somehow the bullet had gone completely through his skull.

But had I even been aiming at his head?

Just then, a cold cackle broke the alley’s silence.

I knew that laugh, it made my heart drop and my body tense. And it was coming from directly in front of me.

I snapped my head, and - sure enough - the Joker was stepping into the patch of light in front of the 4x4, his eyes on me.

“You should see yourself doll…” He purred lowly, “Like a deer caught in the headlights!” I saw his eyes drop to my hands where I still cradled the assault rifle, the safety still off and barrel still pointed in his direction.

A grin spread across his face, knowing and humoured by my actions. “Ah, I see you’ve come prepared... But, ya’ know kitten, it’s rude to take what’s not yours.” He told me and suddenly my weapon was seized from behind me and yanked roughly out of my hands causing me to fall over onto my hands and knees on the road, the gravel biting into my palms.

I had been too busy worrying about the Joker in front of me I hadn’t clocked the two-hulking henchman that had appeared behind me. A glance back over my shoulder now showed the vague outlines of the two large men, one of them fiddling with my gun and expertly removing the loaded magazine. Damn.

"That’s a bit better.” Said the Joker pleasantly and I snapped my head back round to see him swaggering his way toward me, the light from the headlamps only exaggerating the dark shadows around his eyes and his sharp jaw line. “Don’t want anyone to get hurt now do we?” He asked as he moved to the edge of the lit area, his face falling into shadow but I could still see his hand beckoning me to him.

I hesitated too long and was harshly yanked to my feet by one of the henchmen behind me. I pulled away angrily from the man’s grip, shooting a death glare into the darkness behind me where I could just make out the facial features of a large brutish man.

I returned my gaze to the Joker who had remained where he was. Waiting. I walked slowly towards him, not giving him the satisfaction of thinking he scared me - though my heart racing under my skin gave it away.

I stepped into the pool of light with him and I noticed what the simple white shirt he wore was only done up at the last few buttons, exposing his toned chest and the gold chains that draped his neck. I was also acutely aware of the gun holsters that hung over his shoulders. “[Y/N],” The Joker greeted, and I returned my gaze to his eyes, “As beautiful as always.” He grinned slyly at me and I eyed him suspiciously, knowing I probably looked at state and nowhere close to my usual standard, let alone beautiful.

“Joker, as charming as ever I see.” I retorted, much to my shock.

Joker beamed at me in delight however, his metal teeth catching the yellow light. “Maybe we ought to drug you more often, doll.” He said, “You seem far more…” He searched for the word, “Amiable.”

Whilst I couldn’t deny that my head still felt particularly uncomfortable and groggy, I was afraid that in my right mind I probably still would have said that. This new-found confidence was scary, but thrilling -  just like being around the Joker.

“What do you want?” I asked out right with a frown, not willing to play his little games.

"I love it when you sweet talk me, baby.” He grinned devilishly, leaning in towards me, trying to make me uncomfortable with the lack of personal space. I remained unfazed, now quite use to his little quirks, and continued to scowl at him. His smile dropped, “Fine, kill the fun.”  He said, waving a hand in dismissal and straightening himself back upright again. “I have a proposition for you, Doll.” He finally declared.

I immediately didn’t like the sound of this and the Joker must have noticed because he wagged his finger warningly at me, “Ahh Ahh Doll. Hear me out – you’re gonna love this.”

I couldn’t help but be a little intrigued and I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for him to continue. He raised his invisible eyebrows at my attempt to seem blasé and unconcerned, but let it pass. “You, doll, are going to come with me and stay in one of my safehouses for…” He rolled his neck, his eyes searching the darkness as he thought it through, “Let’s say a week.” He decided.

I frowned at him in confusion at this ridiculous suggestion, “Why on Earth would I do that?” I demanded, the weirdness of the request cracking my uncaring façade.

“I told you, Doll…” He drawled, taking a step forward and reaching out with one hand towards my face, and I instinctively flinched back, even though he paused halfway. “… I need to see you smile.” He purred, smiling his metal grin at the word and twisting the wrist of his outstretched hand, his fingers closing one by one into a fist. He paused a moment, his eyes lingering on my lips before he snapped his gaze back to mine. “So we’re going to have a little game.” He purred, pulling his hand back, “A week to get you to smile – or laugh – I’ll take either.” He grinned menacingly.

“You’re making me want to laugh at the very idea.” I told him, teasing but not breaking out of my serious expression.

He looked almost shocked at what I had said, “Don’t toy with me doll, if I didn’t know better I’d think you were trying to be funny.”

I shrugged, slightly amused by his stunned expression. “So, what happens if you don’t make me smile within a week?” I asked.

“Well here’s the real fun, doll.” He said, his smile returning, “We’re going to place a little bet. If I can’t make you smile by the end of a week then I’ll give you what you want. I’ll leave you alone for good.” I was shocked. Was the Joker actually offering me a way out of this silly charade we’d been playing – a way to get away from him forever without having to resort to previous extremes? And all I had to do was to survive one week with him and not smile? That surely wasn’t hard to do. His humour wasn’t particularly in my taste and a lot of the things he did would make most people scream or break down, not smile.

I frowned, not convinced on how sincere he was being – what was the catch? “What happens if you win?” I asked, “If you did manage to make me smile?”

He grinned widely at me, “The one thing that I want.”

And what’s that?” I asked, almost afraid to know.

“Well, we’ll just see wont we?” He told me with a wide grin

I didn’t like the sound of that. Who knew what he wanted from me.

But if I said no – if I thought the risk was too high - what would happen then? Would he just let me go here and now and we return to normal? Or was there no actual option here – was it more of a demand that this was happening whether I wanted it to or not? It wasn’t like I could do anything – I was stood maybe 2-3 foot away from the Joker himself and I knew that lurking in the shadows was at least 5 henchmen - if not more. So, did I really have a choice?

But if I did agree, could I guarantee that I wouldn’t smile for a whole week with him? I would have thought it was easy to not smile around him. And surely, being a busy crime lord, he wouldn’t be around that much anyway? He definitely wouldn’t want a pathetic girl hanging off his shoulder all day, every day, so would I just be alone most of the time anyway?

All the time I considered this the Joker watched me intently - maybe trying to predict my response - though he must know that he had me stuck and there was really only one proper answer.

So, what’da’ya say, doll?” He asked, leaning toward me again, “I’ll give you good odds!” He grinned innocently.

I scowled at him before finally admitting what I knew I’d have to say all along. “Fine.”

A roguish smile spread across his face before it widened to a grin. “Wonderful.” He purred, “Frosty will escort you to your new home.”

“Where are you going?” I asked, once more surprised by my boldness.

The Joker also seemed surprised at the question, already heading back into the darkness of the alley and pausing with his back to me. I panicked, worried I’d gone too far and he’d turn around with a gun or a knife.

Instead he turned his head back over his shoulder at me, “I have a few more bits of business to clear up.” He told me darkly, his eyes were dangerous but I knew it wasn’t aimed at me, none the less I felt myself shiver. With that he had turned back and strode off into the blackness, out of sight.

There would be a few more bodies in the morgue tomorrow – I could guarantee it.

Suddenly I felt a hand land on my shoulder and I jumped, spinning to face my assailant only to see Frost stood behind me, slightly taken aback by my reaction.

“Sorry, [Y/N].” Frost apologised quickly, holding his hands up in surrender, “The cars over here.” He told me, gesturing behind him with the thumb of his right hand. I followed him in silence, trying to let the new situation sink in.

We reached the car – another 4x4 – and Frost opened the passenger door for me. I hesitated before sliding in, “Frost, can I ask…” I started, lifting my gaze to his face as I folded myself into the car. He nodded, “What have I got myself into?”

Frost paused, “I honestly don’t know, [Y/N].” he admitted before closing the car door on me with a thud.

Tags: @viraldragonrider @6fish6 @theartistdetective @carouselcurls

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader - Deadly  Voice Part 40

Wow. 40 parts. I didn’t even mean to make it 20 parts long…. Opps.

Well here’s the next bit, I’ve played around with how this was going to work a bit so I apologise if there is a few mistakes or some things that don’t make sense - I probably missed it when I was editing.

Good news though - I think I’ve finally figured out how to end the series so there will probably be about 2-3 more parts….maybe. I don’t know, I always say that and then make it twice as long, but we’ll see, I’m going to try to start winding it down now!

Thank you to everyone one who still reads my work! :D

Masterlist

When I woke up I was calm. For a moment at least.

And then consciousness began to flood back to me, bringing with it my memories. I snapped my eyes open in alarm at my sudden recollection of everything and panicked even more when I came face to face with a wall of darkness.

Where ever I was, it was pitch black.

I almost jumped when a masculine voice sounded behind me and I could feel my heart racing in my chest.

“-bloody stuck here! Babysitting!” It cried in annoyance, “You had to go and hit her with both, didn’t you?” Clearly addressing another person, “Couldn’t have fuckin’ chosen one like you were supposed to?!”

Sure enough, another voice came out of the dark, this one closer, as though the man was directly behind my head. “I panicked!” It defended, “Frickin’ Johnny messed me up and then she wouldn’t stop bloody moaning and holding her head!”

They were talking about me. About what had knocked me out. I listened in carefully, trying to gain any bits of information from that might explain what had happened and what was going to happen now.

“You’re so dead, mate.” Muttered the first voice with a slight dark chuckle.

“Don’t you fuckin’ joke about something like that, man!” Cried the other man indignantly.

“Who said I was joking? You’re the bloody idiot that hit her with two loads of knockout drugs.” Pointed out the first man, “When boss man finds about all of this shit you ain’t gonna live to see tomorrow, mate.”

“But she’s just a bloody girl - ”

“Harv.” The other man interrupted him, “Give it up, man. If she was ‘just a girl’ he wouldn’t go through this shit to get her.” There was a lull in the conversation, ‘Harv’ possibly thinking through his actions and how he could justify it to the ‘boss’. “Face it man. Get your affairs in order now.” The other guy told him, now seeming to take pity on the other guy.

“She’s just a fuckin’ girl, Stu!” Harv protested desperately, not accepting his sealed fate, “And she’s fine!”

“You think.” Pointed out ‘Stu’, “She’s been out for far too long and – dude - you could have killed her with that shit load of knockouts.”

“If anyone should get the blame it’s fuckin’ Johnny!” Harv insisted heatedly, “I had two options – drink or cloth. I was supposed to make the bloody call! But Frosty went ahead and made the frickin’ drink anyway before I was ready!” Harv exclaimed.

“So why the hell did you give her the cloth as well?!”

“Because she then bloody went and collapsed into her own hands, groaning in pain! Then, of course I had fuckin’ Frosty signing at me across the room to do something! I did the first thing that came to me and…” The silence indicated him miming something to Stu.

“Mate…” Stu groaned in exasperation at Harv.

“I didn’ know it was gonna bloody be like that!” Harv protested, “The batch must’ve been stronger this time or something!”

“You really think Boss is gonna care that your bloody drugs were a bit fuckin’ stronger than usual?” Demanded Stu, “Good luck even getting a bloody word in before there’s a bullet in your head.”

“Ah man Stu, I’m fucked.” Breathed Harv, finally seeming to accept his fate.

Stu murmured a confirmation and then they fell into silence, Harv probably trying to find a way out of the early grave he’d dug for himself.

I had listened to every word they had said and a few things had fallen into place in my mind

I had been knocked out by this man ‘Harv’ with both a spiked drink and a cloth of some sort of knock out agent – probably chloroform or similar. ‘Harv’ seemed to have been working with Frost which probably meant I had been knocked out by the Joker for some reason and the men behind me were henchmen of his.

My main question was: why?

I didn’t think I was going to get an answer very quickly, especially not stuck here in the dark – wherever here was.

The silence persisted and I didn’t want to waste the time I had so I tried to see what I could gather from the little area that was available to me. I slowly moved my hands over whatever I was lying on. Leather. Odd.

My eyes had now adjusted somewhat to the dark around me and I could make out the outline of the edge of what I was on above me. It seemed to be some sort of sofa or chair. I glanced down at my feet, attempting to move as little as possible to avoid the notice of the men behind me. There was a window about a foot or 2 above my legs. It suddenly became clear to me.

I was in a car.

I cautiously returned my head to its original position and it was now obvious to me that I was lying along the back seat of a car and the blackness in front of me was back of the leather passenger seat. That meant that the men I had heard talking were sat in the front seats of the car, directly behind me.

There was, however, no sound of an engine or any vibrations coming up through the chair so we must be parked up somewhere. Why? Were we waiting for something?

And what did I do now with this information?

I considered my options for escape. If I tried anything I highly doubted I would be able to overwhelm the two men in the car with me and - even if I did - I couldn’t be sure that there was no one waiting outside of the car. I also had no idea where I was to even try to run for safety – I didn’t want to end up lost or cornered with the Joker’s entire mob hunting me down.

I had to face the fact that I didn’t really have any plausible options of escape yet. I would have to wait here and hope for something to happen that might provide me with a chance to do something more than pretend to be unconscious. So instead I focused on remaining as still as possible and trying to keep my breathing even and slow, as if I was still sleeping.

I don’t know how long I lay there waiting for something to happen but all of a sudden interior of the car was lit with a yellow glow, beams of light moving across the small section of the car roof I could see above me.

“Looks like that’s them.” Came Stu’s voice and Harv grunted in acknowledgement. I could hear a car engine approaching and the light brightened as the engine growl got louder. Then we were plunged into darkness again but the noise continued, indicating the car had passed us. Suddenly the seat beneath me vibrated and our car choked into a loud roar of life before it settled into a low rumble, the seat beneath me slightly bouncing.

I could feel my heart racing again, were we following them? Were we going to a new location? Where were we going? What would happen then?

However, instead of the car moving forward like I had planned, I heard both of the men behind me click open their doors before they were then closed with a soft thud.

I braced myself - waiting for them to open one of the doors to get me - but nothing happened.

After waiting a few minutes with still no sound of anyone near the car I decided I was probably safe enough to warily push myself upright a bit. When I lifted my head felt like it was stuffed with cottonwool, the grogginess from the drugs not having completely gone. I squinted as I pushed myself up a bit further, my head still aching dully, but I tried to ignore it.

I tried to stay low, partially so I could drop to my original pose should anyone suddenly appear, and partially due to my weak muscles in case they no longer felt able to support me.

I shuffled to the window by my head, breathing out an sigh of relief when I recognised that the window glass was tinted and a quick glance at the rest of the windows also proved this. Thank god – no one would be able to see me moving about in here.

I returned my attention to the window in front of me, now pulling myself up so I sat completely up, partially collapsed against the back of the seat and the car door. My whole body still felt numb apart from my head that pounded at my forehead. I peered through the window, anxiously scanning the visible area. It was pitch black outside most of the car, the surroundings only dimly lit by the headlights of the car which had come on when the men had started the engine. From what I could gather with the use of the poor lighting, I was facing some sort of brick or concrete wall.

I frowned. That wasn’t particularly helpful.

I slid my way to the window on the right hand-side of the car, repeating my action. I quickly ducked when I noticed a group of about four men standing together a few metres away, illuminated by the light from the headlamps.

Folded down onto the back seat and hidden behind the bulk of the car door I let my heart rate calm slightly, before I remembered they couldn’t see into the car and I chided myself for my stupidity before rising once more to the window.

I took my time now. Glancing to my left the headlights illuminated the men and further on the tarmacked road disappeared into the darkness, no noticeable road markings apparent to me. Were we on a minor road?

In front of me the weaker outer rays of the headlights caught another wall opposite. Were we in an alley?

I glanced to the right before realising my view was limited and I shuffled along the back seat to look out the rear window. At least 100 metres away was a rectangle of light. I could just make out the outline of the pavement and a building directly opposite. That must be the road.

So, we must be down one of Gotham city’s many alleyways.

If I could make it to the main road out there I could probably find a place to hide or evade the men.

My problem however was the fact I was still stuck in the car.

I glanced back to the men that still stood chatting, their breath catching the limited light as it rose around in the chilly darkness. They didn’t look heavily armed, but they all must have at least a gun and/or knife with them and I was sure they wouldn’t hesitate to shoot me if I made a runner.

That was if my door was even unlocked in the first place, I thought, glancing down at where I knew the handle was hidden in the dark, the light not quite reaching back behind the front seats.

So what did I do? Just sit here, hoping that a chance presented itself for me to escape? Or try and get out somehow without them hearing me?

I glanced around the car, hoping to find something I could use to help me. The car interior looked expensive and from what I could gather it looked to be one of the many large 4x4 vehicles the henchmen often used. I checked the checked the pockets attached to the back of the front seats. Empty. I dug around in the compartments in each of the passenger doors. Nothing.

“Morning.” Came a feminine voice suddenly from the front of the car and I felt my heart skip a beat as I jumped at the noise, “Jeez!” I gasped, my hands gripping the leather seats as I stared directly at Bobby who now sat, looking very relaxed, in the driver’s seat.

“Sorry hun – again.” Said Bobby with an apologetic smile. I stared at her with wide eyes - after all I’d been through tonight, she was still here?! She was in her usual attire of a dark pink skirt, black shirt and netted fingerless gloves, her glasses perched on the end of her nose.

“What do you want?!” I hissed at her, before chastising myself for talking to a figment of my imagination.

“Well I figure,” She said waving her hand around the car as an explanation, “You could use some help.”

“Oh yeah?” I retorted quietly, trying to keep my voice to a whisper – I didn’t know how sound proof the car was. “And you think you can?”

“Uh-huh.” She nodded, pushing her glasses back into placed. “Check  –“

“No.” I snapped, cutting her off “You’re just a very vivid thought process – you can’t possibly know anything I don’t! So, you can’t be any help!”

She fell silent but she looked at me with pity. I scowled at her before turning back to my previous search, ignoring her.

I push myself to my feet, ignoring the light-headedness that washed over me, and stepped toward the centre of the car, trying to reach the front seats where I prayed there might be something useful. However, as I lifted my back foot I caught it on something and I flailed helplessly before I fell into the foot well. I cursed myself and my now bruised knee.

I kept my red face directly away from Bobby – who I was glad to hear, remained silent - and instead looked to see what I could possibly have tripped over. I groped blindly under the chair for the obstacle before I settled on some sort of metal or plastic which I pulled at. After a few tugs it came free and I looked at it in shock.

An assault rifle.

“For the henchmen in emergencies.” Bobby explained over the top of the seat, clearly already aware of their existence. I scowled down at the weapon before shooting a glare up at her from where she peered at me.

“And how the hell did you know this was here?!” I demanded.

“I may ‘just be you’,” She quoted back at me, “But I’m a very distinct part of you – a part that thinks of things like hidden weapons in the bad guys cars and the part that might hear things subconsciously that you never really tune into!” She said cheerfully, obviously proud of herself.

I glared at her again before returning my attention back to the gun in my hand. I had never properly trained with an assault rifle before, but I had the basic idea of how to use it. I glanced around again - if there was a gun there was bound to be ammo somewhere.

“Compartment under the foot mat.” Chimed in Bobby. I paused, not wanting to take her advice, but I couldn’t let my pride delay my escape so I looked anyway. Sure enough, in a box in the floor of the foot well lay at least 10 magazines. I grabbed one, smoothly clipping it into place and ensuring the gun was on safety for now - I didn’t want to shoot them if I didn’t have to. “You sure?” Came Bobby’s voice with a knowing smile and I shot another glare back up to her.

“Get outta my head!” I snarled quietly. She simply giggled at my impossible demand.

I turned my gaze away from her, now focusing on what I had to do. I eyed the left car door which had looked out to the brick wall. That was my best bet, then I had the cover of the car to hide behind straight away and if I opened the door quietly enough the engine noise should hopefully hide the sound.

I took a deep breath, preparing myself.

“Wait!”

“What?!” I snapped rounding on Bobby.

“I can help.” She suggested.

“No.” I said, the idea ridiculous to me. I couldn’t trust her, not based on her past record where she’d already made me threatened, stab and shoot people, let alone flirting with the Joker. She was a loose cannon and what was worse, there was times when I enjoyed it. No, I couldn’t let her free again, she might hurt more people or become too reckless and get me killed. I had no control. “Definitely not.” I confirmed sternly.

“[Y/N] listen to me! Your treating me like I’m another person - a stranger. I’m not. I’m you. I’m a part of you whether you like it or not!” She cried, her usually chilled, cheerful self disappearing, instead she had a fiery passion. I sat in a stunned silence and she made the most of this, “Now,” She said, giving me a small smile and returning to her calmness - glad I was now listening, “we can either work against each other, you fighting and supressing me until you’re too tired to do it anymore and I break free for a few hours. OR you can finally accept me and we can work together – both of us in control, no more fighting.” She reasoned.

I turned away from her, staring at the darkness that engulfed the floor, running through what she had said. Finally, I glanced up at her and she looked hopeful at me. I took a deep breath but then abruptly turned and opened the car door.

I breathed a sigh of relief when it unlocked and I pushed it open, slipping out so I crouched down to the tarmac. I could hear the men now, all talking animatedly with each other, none of them seeming to have heard the door open. I cast a last look back into the blackness of the car but Bobby was gone. It didn’t reassure me.

I pushed the door shut, trying to keep it controlled and quiet, but I made a fatal mistake in releasing the door too soon and it closed with a thud.

I froze the moment I realised my mistake. Shit.

The men immediately fell silent. “Did you guys hear that?” Came Stu’s voice

“Sounded like the car.”

“Couldn’t be. Probably just a cat in a dumpster or something.”

“Yeah you get noises like that all the time down these alleys.”

“I think I saw something move.” Said Harv

“Probably just a rat” Dismissed another guy.

“Yeah, you’re probably jumpy because you’re a goner.” Said Stu suggestively, humour colouring his voice and the other two men burst in laughter, sharing in an inside joke.

“Whatever, I’m checking it out anyway.” Mutter back Harv, not appreciating the joke on his behalf, and I heard footsteps advancing towards the car and me. I panicked, retreating to the back of the car and fumbling with the rifle in my lap, my mind going blank.

Suddenly Bobby was crouched next to me leaning against the bumper between me and Harv. “Let me help!” She demanded. I ignored her, trying to focus on what I was doing with the weapon.

“You know what you need to do!” She told me, “Nothing I have ever done has made our lives worse! I’ve only ever made it better!” She persisted, whispering frantically in my ear as the footsteps got closer.

“I’m not the bad guy [Y/N]! He is!” She cried pointing to around the edge of the car where Harv was advancing on us, “Let me help!” She insisted urgently.

 “Ergh!” I cried in frustration throwing my shoulder into her and I followed the momentum round so I crouched, gun pointing around the side of the 4x4 at the man advancing. The darkness hid my position and he moved without hesitation toward me.

I aimed, clicked off the safety and –

Gun fire went off and he fell forward in front of me, bleeding out from a hole in the back of his head.

Tags: @theartistdetective @viraldragon @6fish6 @carouselcurls

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader Deadly Voice Part 38

Here’s the next part! I’ve messed around with and have changed it around quite a bit so if any bits don’t really make sense it’s because of that and my poor editing!

Hope you enjoy anyway!

Masterlist

I hid in my office for most of the night – the club didn’t really need me during opening hours, it practically ran itself, everyone else knew what they should be doing. I only left the safety of my room when the club had closed in the early hours and I knew I had a rehearsal to go through before we could all call it a night.

I moved silently around the back of house, grateful when I found all the corridors empty - the staff kept out of my way and I wasn’t in the mood to appear happy and approachable right now.

I was glad I didn’t have to dress up for rehearsals - the last thing I wanted to do was force myself into one of the snug cocktail dress and fiddle for hours on my hair. Instead I stayed in my soft cotton black trousers – professional, but not uncomfortable – and my loose pale green blouse, the top two button undone. As I headed backstage I tied my hair up into a scruffy bun, not bothering to catch all the loose strands I missed, allowing them to hang lazily around my face. I frowned when I realised that the wings of the stage were also empty. Where were the technical team? Maybe they were on the other side of the stage, or maybe they’d gone to help with the lights again.

However, I couldn’t help but notice that - although most had promised to stay behind - the club felt particularly empty of staff at the moment. I didn’t linger on the thought too much; I’m sure they all had their reasons to leave early – probably just excuses to escape my presence.

The band that had been rehearsing slipped off the stage as I moved to the steps. When they caught sight of me they dropped their eyes hurrying past me, sweat beading at their foreheads. They might not be too comfortable around me, but they weren’t usually that anxious to get away. I watched their departing backs in confusion before pushing it aside as I walked up the steps. As I crossed to centre stage my supporting band came on from the other side, none of them meeting my eyes, all looking very nervous – worse than when we performed live. I frowned at them, but none of them glanced up to me to see my questioning look.

I decided I’d ask them later.

I faced out to the ‘crowd’ – not that I could see anything though thanks to the bright lights aimed at me from the rafters. I tried to keep my eyes relatively low to stop being blinded, but a movement caught my eye and I looked up, shielding my eyes against the glare from the spotlight above me. Bobby was frantically jumping up and down behind the bar waving like someone signalling a SOS. Once she realised my eyes were on her she stopped prancing around so much and flung her arms up, frantically pointing to my right at the few tables that lined the wall.

I squinted in the general direction she indicated but struggled to see anything beyond the wall of light shining on my face. I frowned back at her in puzzlement and she continued her little charade, jabbing wildly, but the lighting on me was too intense and all the darkness beyond the stage merged into one so I couldn’t make anything out clearly. Was it someone left behind that was refusing to leave? A drunk maybe? Surely the bouncer could sort that out? Or had he already left? Wasn’t it his job to check the place over first? Was it a staff member doing something they shouldn’t? Did anyone really have the guts to do that in this place? Or was Bobby just having a laugh with me?

Whatever it was, I’d sort it later. I didn’t need to worry about it right now, besides my rehearsal would be short, I’m sure it could wait.

So I moved my gaze off Bobby stepping up to the microphone stand, adjusting it back to my slightly shorter stature than the guy previously. I glanced behind me at the band, now set up and ready. I gave a nod to a few that were looking at me. The drum beat started up behind me.

I sang a couple of songs, every now and then looking at Bobby at the back of room opposite me. Whenever she caught my eye in return she would try the same signing but still to no luck, the visibility of the rest of the club still hadn’t improved. Eventually she gave up and focused on cleaning up the remnants of the night. At least she was still managing to focus on her job – that was most important thing right now.

I turned to my band before my last song. “Guy’s I’m changing it up a bit tonight. Can we do this one for the last song?” I asked politely handing them a sheet of songs and pointing at the one I wanted. I didn’t really need to rehearse it, and I didn’t really plan to use it in many of my acts, but I could still feel the tension of my talk with the Penguin in my body and sometimes I just needed the right song to release those emotions. I felt this suited the occasion and maybe, just maybe, it might make me feel better.

The glanced at each other nervously, not happy about the last minute change, but I could see they also didn’t want to fight me about this. Eventually they reluctantly nodded and I tried to give them a grateful smile in thanks but they had already turned away from me, dismissing me back to my place.

Whatever. I wasn’t in the mood for their attitude.

I took a deep breathe.

“It’s like you’re a drug…” I began gently, the piano joining in softly after my first line.

It’s like you’re a demon I can’t face down,

It’s like I’m stuck…

It’s like I’m running from you all the time,

And I know I let you have all the power,

It’s like the only company I seek is misery all around…”

I sang gently, not looking out, my eyes closed.

“…And I realize I’m never gonna quit you over time!” The drums kicked in behind me, and I felt adrenaline rush through me, the music taking over.

“It’s like I can’t breathe!

It’s like I can’t see anything,

Nothing but you,

I’m addicted to you!

It’s like I can’t think!

Without you interrupting me,

In my thoughts, in my dreams,

You’ve taken over me!

It’s like I’m not me…

It’s like I’m not me…”

I poured my soul into that performance, the lyrics just holding too much truth for me at the moment. I could feel the crashing drums running through me, pushing me further as I sang till I was nearly shouting.

“It’s like I’m not me…” I finished off quietly, head down, facing the floor as the last note from the guitar hovered in the air. I didn’t move from my finished position immediately, as I could feel my emotions crashing around me and I didn’t feel fully in control.

Eventually I felt collected enough to straighten up and I glanced behind me, about to compliment my band, only to find the stage empty. Why was everyone in such as rush today? I scowled at how unprofessional they were being – was all of this just because they had to work for me? Maybe I ought to hire in some people with more guts.

Suddenly a slow exaggerated clapping came from directly in front of me. I span around, my immediate thought was Bobby messing around and I shielding my eyes with my hand to see her, only to have my heart drop through my stomach.

The Joker was walking slowly toward me, clapping. He was dressed in a black shirt and black trousers so he almost blended with the darkness around him. It contrasted with his alabaster skin which was illuminated in the harsh artificial light above us. His usual devilish smile stretched across his face and I scowled at him as he approached, at least now I knew why everyone had done a runner, and what Bobby had been waving about.

“Bravo, Doll!” He applauded stopping a few foot away from the stage, his eyes on me. “And might I add you look particularly stunning tonight!” He grinned eyeing my unimpressive outfit up and down with a gleam in his eye.

I stayed where I was, gripping the microphone stand tightly as if it was my only lifeline. “What do you want?” I snarled at him, maybe he didn’t realise how bad his timing was.

He looked dramatically offended at my tone, “Why, I’m just here to check on my club!” He said, placing a hand to his chest and pouting at me with his deep red lips. I eyed him his suspiciously, not believing for a second that was what he was truly here for, or at least not the only thing – if it was then why not send a henchman?

“Has anyone ever told you you’re too sceptical?” He jested.

“Give me a reason not to be.” I spat before turning my back to him and moving the microphone and stand to the backstage, disappearing behind the curtains. Conversation over, he can leave now. I heard a growl behind me at my insolence but that didn’t stop me striding backstage. I turned around to collect the rest of my things when I came face to face with the Joker only a couple of inches away, his hand immediately grabbing at my waist and pinning my body against his. I let out a gasp at the impact and the sudden closeness.

His snarl melted away when he looked my fearful face, leaving a scowl of annoyance, “See doll, I don’t get you.” He told me, “I give you a nice job, good money, even leave you alone for a while, yet I’ve still not seen a genuine smile grace those delicate lips of yours…” he purred, his eyes now falling hungrily to my mouth, the sudden change of attention both frightening and exciting me. I licked my lips self-consciously and he let out a low rumbling growl before he snapped his eyes back to mine. “Why can’t you smile?” He breathed, and I thought I heard vulnerability in his voice for the first time.

“Why do I have to smile?” I asked, genuinely intrigued but his reaction.

With my words however his face snapped shut again, his cold, stony expression back in place and his hand tightened once more - almost painfully - on my hips. “Because doll, I’ve seen the madness that can brighten your eyes…” His eyes lightened slightly, “...and it’s truly beautiful.” His eyes slipped from mine and roamed my face. He dropped a hand from my waist, “I can only imagine what a simple smile would look like…” he purred, drawing his finger along my lips and cheeks in an imaginary grin to match his own.

I felt myself blushing hotly under his touch and I couldn’t look at his eyes anymore, instead keeping my gaze glued to his lips as my skin tingled from his touch. He lifted his finger away from my lips           and I could feel his eyes dancing around my face, though I still refused to look up. I felt his hand moved to the side of my face, brushing some of the loose strands of hair behind my ear. I shuddered at the feeling and felt myself all relax into the moment, it felt good to be held and comforted; I almost forgot who I was with.

“But you see, doll, you’re madness doesn’t hang around.” The Joker said lowly, then he suddenly grabbed my chin, pulling my face up so my eyes had to meet his, forcing my neck into an uncomfortable angle. “It flashes through you burning and engulfing everything,” He said fiercely, clenching his teeth and tightened his grip. I flinched at the pain, scrunching my eyes closed as his fingers dug into skin. He paused, watching me struggle under his grip, his breath harsh above me.

“But then it flickers out, dies to embers.” He growled, almost annoyed, but he relaxed his grip on my chin and I allowed me to drop my head slightly, relieving my neck.

“The problem is doll,” He rumbled, “when that spark of insanity is gone, you’re empty.” He told me honestly, releasing the hand on my hip, and bringing it up next to our faces. “It’s the look people get when they’ve lost hope.” He said gesturing with hands as he spoke, like a true performer, “When they’re just…” He trailed off waving his hand for the word, “…existing.”

“It’s my favourite look.” The Joker admitted, stroking my cheek with his thumb. “Except on you.” he purred lowly.

I blinked at few times trying to bring myself back to some form of sense. I pulled back, away from him and I was surprised when he released his grip without an argument. He kept his hand in the air, curling his fingers slowly till he formed a clench fist. I was very aware that he could easily make another sudden move and hit me.

“You thought giving me a club was going to fix everything?!” I demanded incredulously.

He dropped his hand to his side, and I relaxed slightly but he voice was full of warning, “Careful, kitten.” He told me darkly. “Someone might think you’re ungrateful.”

I didn’t know what to say to this. I just stood there opening and closing my mouth like a fish, unsure how to articulate everything I wanted to say to him.

Instead I turned around and left, not caring if he followed me.

I was surprised when I didn’t feel a hand yanking me back around or a gun pressed to my head, but I made the most of it and left immediately. I didn’t bother to collect my bag from my office – it would still be there in the morning and I didn’t want to waste time.

I cursed and muttered to myself the whole way back to my flat, not bothering to catch the bus back, relishing instead in the cold air and the muscle exertion to wear off some of my frustration at the Joker.

I hated how weak I was, that he could manipulate me so easily into things like taking that job. I blamed his eyes. I couldn’t think straight when they held my gaze – all common sense seemed to vanish from my mind.

I stormed into my flat, not bothering to try and keep it down for my neighbours below as I stomped across my floor. Upon reaching the opposite side of my flat I stopped, throwing my hands up in the air in exasperation and shouted in frustration before I spun around to face the rest of the flat.

I was slightly out of breath from my fast-walk home, my chest rising and falling heavily as I gazed around my flat, now at a loss of what to do. I wanted to attack something. A part of me wished the Joker had followed me so I could have taken a few punches out on him - however a little voice in the back of my head told me that I would have quickly regretted that decision.

I snarled at that little voice to shut up and then threw myself on my sofa, burying my face in a cushion as I screamed into the material - releasing my pent up energy. After a few minutes I sat up on the sofa, hugging the pillow to me.  I was a weird mixture of wanting a hug and wanting to punch something - so maybe the cushion was a good idea.

I buried my head back into the cushion once more, releasing another muffled cry. It felt good. I sat up and vaguely glanced around my flat, unsure what to do now.

That’s when, for some reason, my eyes fell on the small table by my front door directly in front of me. Was something different? Was something missing? No, what was that sat on the table?

I threw my cushion to the side, striding over - my curiosity briefly overcoming my anger - and noticed what looked like a piece of paper sat under the little bowl that I kept my keys and loose change in. I didn’t remember leaving anything there. Was it just an old bill or note to myself?

I slide the small piece of paper out from under the bowl and turned it over, almost dropping the paper when I recognised it.

It was a photo of my old club.

My photo.

The photo I had left at the farm house.

I didn’t know what to do. I was numb. I turned, leaning against my front door, before I crumpled to the floor so I sat crossed legged staring at my front door, the photo still in my hand.

This was what I had told Frost the other week. Had he gone and got it for me?

Why would he? He couldn’t possibly do it without the Joker knowing – and he had probably needed the Joker’s resources to get it back. Why would the Joker do this? Was it another way to get me to ‘smile’? And what was that all about? Surely he didn’t care whether I was happy or not – he was probably just sick of my frown, or was there, yet again something behind all this ‘smile’ plan. Was he just trying to cheer me up before he shot me down, was this just a sick game of his?

I gazed unseeing in front of me, my expression blank, tears running silently down my cheeks.

I sat in silence for a few moments, confused and feeling very alone as I processed everything.

I lifted the photo once more and examined it, drinking in each detail.

Time to leave the happiness in the past.

The Joker wouldn’t see me smile.

Then I tore the picture into tiny pieces.

I bowed my head, squeezing my eyes tightly closed and my jaw clenched at the pain that washed through and overwhelmed me as I sobbed at the paper that littered my lap.

 I ought to kill the girl for all the trouble she’s given me The Joker thought moodily, stuffing the photo back into his shirt pocket and draining the last of his amber liquid as music echoed throughout the darkened club. He then abruptly spun his stool, straightening up from where he had been hunched over the empty bar, and threw his glass at the wall opposite. He heard it shatter, then the rain of the fragments as they feel onto the floor.

The destruction filled him with satisfaction.

He grabbed the bottle of alcohol on the bar to his right which he had been using to refill his glass. He didn’t hesitating before he launching this too, making contact with the wall just below the previous impaction. The liquid painted the wall and slowly dripped its way down, tinted purple from the light on the paint behind it, before it pooled at the foot of the wall.

The Joker pushed himself off his seat, sauntering over to the mess he had made, admiring his handiwork. He had cleaners for a reason after all. Might as well make them work for the money he paid them.

He crouched, bending to pick up a particular shard of glass and walked to a nearby booth, all the while his eyes on the small piece of destruction in his hand as he spun it in his hand.

Without looking he stepped up onto the booth’s cushioned seat and then onto the table, before – without faltering – he folded himself gracefully into a crossed-legged seat in the centre. A new song came on as he held the shard up, staring through it as he twirled it expertly between his fingers to, the dim orange light above him catching it as it moved.

I dance around this empty house Tear us down Throw you out Screaming down the halls Spinning all around and now we fall

Pictures framing up the past Your taunting smirk behind the glass This museum full of ash Once a tickle Now a rash

This used to be a funhouse But now it's full of evil clowns It's time to start the countdown I'm gonna burn it down down down I'm gonna burn it down

Nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, fun

He spun the glass through his fingers faster and faster as the song played and his mind raced of the girl, replaying her performance in his mind, her lips forming and kissing each word out of her mouth as she pulled off her little plan. Soon his movements became too exuberant and there was a red streak, bright against his pale finger.

He threw the glass fragment across the room and once again pulled the tatty photo from his shirt - creased with time but still clearly showing the old club. Humming to himself, he glanced at it and then watched the blood well in the cut before it began flowing down his hand.

Oh, what a deadly voice.

 tags: @theartistdetective @viraldragonrider

[thejokersenigma]

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[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader Deadly Voice Part 28

Hiya!

Next part is ready - sorry its rather long but I must admit I’m quite proud of the ending so I hope you enjoy it too!

Promise the Joker will eventually return! (sorry there hasn’t been much for a while!)

Let me know what you think - I love hearing from you guys!

Trigger Warning: There is a mention of suicide - its literally just the word and doesn’t go any further than that really but don’t read it if it’ll trigger you please!

Masterlist

When I woke up the next morning, I was staring up at the ceiling. I blinked a few times - not knowing where I was for a moment and could feel my heart pounding before my situation rushed back to me and I calmed slightly. All too soon though the night before came back to me and my heart seemed to skip again. “Oh my god…” I groaned out loud, turning over in my bed and burying my face in the pillow, throwing the little bit of duvet over me that wasn’t in a pile on the floor.

I stayed like that for a few minutes, trying to build the momentum to get myself out of bed and attempt to be alive. Eventually I rolled out, catching myself before I hit the floor and giggling too myself. Obviously I was going insane, or maybe I was just still seriously tired.

I dragged my feet around the house as I got ready for the day – luckily not having a shift at the pub until late that evening. As I flicked the kettle on and pulled down a mug from the shelf above the sink I heard a knock on my front door.

I looked at my cup in confusion. No one ever called at my house – did anyone even know where I lived? I moved toward the door cautiously, hearing another knock - more impatient this time. I moved a bit quicker toward the door and pulled it open. There, stood before me, was Frost. He was dressed in his usual attire of suit, jacket and a frown, but compared to last night, he was much more orderly - his shirt crisp and ironed, his tie neatly knotted closer to his throat. He looked smart and rested.

I scowled at my unwelcome guest. “How did you know where I lived?”

“Asked.” He stated simply, pushing past me into my house. I didn’t bother to resist him, just let him push past as I was left stood in the doorway looking out into the yard with my forehead crinkled in confusion.

“Who?!” I exclaimed wildly - at a loss as to who knew where I lived. The only person that should know was the Farmer I rented from, I’d never told anyone else – it took a while for me build that sort of trust up, especially now.

“A women in the Bed and Breakfast,” called Frost as he walked away, “the maid? Or maybe she was the owner? Might have been both.” He said dismissively.

I remained in the doorway, glaring daggers at his retreating figure, “I’ll have you know Maggie is a perfectly nice lady! Don’t be so damn rude!”

He ignored my scolding and continued down the hallway without hesitation, peering into each room he passed. I sighed in exasperation at his lack of response and poor manners as he just causally strode through my home. I slammed the front door shut in frustration before following on behind him, muttering to myself “How the hell did Maggie Dune know where I lived?!”

Frost must have heard because, as he turned into my kitchen at the end of the hall, he called back over his shoulder, “You appear to be the talk of this small town – I was questioned by nearly everyone in that tiny house when I asked about you.”

I sighed shaking my head at this. Small town gossip. I should have known. Everyone knew everyone here and actively sought out information about new people. I was lucky that I had covered my past well before moving here or else it wouldn’t have taken long for them to dig it up – well I had it covered up until the other-day.

I turned the corner at the end of the hallway and entered the kitchen to see Frost peering around the small room, apparently unimpressed with it based on his facial expression.

I was about to demand what he was doing here when the kettle signalled for attention with his high pitch sharp whistle. I pushed past Frost who was stood in the middle of the room and grabbed my mug before pausing. I sighed again – curse my good manners – “Do you want a cup?” I reluctantly asked, turning slightly towards him.

“Please.” He affirmed, “Coffee. Black. No sugar.” He directed. I nodded at the instructions and turned my back to him again as I made the drinks, whilst Frost leant against one of my counters, continuing to observe his surroundings. I couldn’t help but wonder, as he stood there, what he was thinking. Did he have training for this? Did he just enter a room and immediately clock all viable escape routes, all possible weapons in a room? Was a spoon a weapon? I thought looking at my counters where there was a few dirty dishes and cutlery say. I shook my head – pointless thoughts. I would never know because I would never ask and I was almost certain he would never tell – at least not the truth.

I turned back to him with the two mugs, handing him one of my more sophisticated mugs that didn’t have funny words or pictures on them and was slightly less chipped than most – though he still seemed to look at it with a certain amount of disdain. I rolled my eyes at his pickiness and moved to the opposite side of the small room, copying his stance as I leant half on a counter and half on the sink, sipping my drink.

We stood in awkward silence again, the openness we had gained from last night’s frankness and alcohol having been boarded up once more with fresh morning and formalities.

I fought back the urge to fidget and swallowed the nerves I could feel growing in my stomach. “So why are you here?” I asked outright.

“I thought I made that clear last night.” He said, raising one eyebrow at me as though he was wondering if I had some sort of memory loss problem, and taking a drink, his eyes not leaving me.

“Not here, as in the town. Here as in my house!” I clarified hotly, gesturing wildly at the room with my free hand.

“I thought that would be obvious.” Frost stated vaguely. I could feel him getting on my nerves quickly, but I didn’t know if he was doing it on purpose.

“God I preferred you when you weren’t sober.” I muttered in annoyance at my floor by his feet as I took a sip from my mug. When I looked up I noticed he had raised his eyebrows at my comment

“I told you my side last night. You need to tell me yours.” He told me, un-amused by my little side comment. “Don’t think you can skip town on me either.” He added his frown deepening - indicating that he had seen my suitcase sat in the corridor on his way in. “I know you’re alive now. I know ways to track you that wouldn’t even cross you mind – I’d always find you down eventually.”

It was true I had considered making a run for it last night before I had collapsed into bed, but in the cold light of day I couldn’t for the life of me remember what my sleep-deprived brain had been thinking of in terms of a plan. I could no longer see any situation in which I could run and avoid Frost – like he said, he could easily find me. The real question was – why did he want to? Why was he so desperate to talk to me so much? Surely knowing how I died would make no real difference to him?

I shrugged at him, unfazed by his warnings as I wasn’t actually planning on it anymore, “You can’t really blame me for considering it.” I said to annoy him a bit.

Frost sighed deeply as if there was a large stress on his shoulders, “Look [Y/N], I get why you left-“ I slammed my mug down on the counter top next to me.

“Do you?!” I demanded, ignoring the liquid that slopped over the edge of my mug and was forming a puddle around the base of my cup. “Do you understand every little tiny detail that was going on in my life?!  Do you understand how everything made me feel? How Penguin made me feel?! Did you know he was going to hire me out as ‘entertainment’” I cried, quoting angrily at him with my fingers, almost in hysterics, “all because that damn clown had shown an interest in me and tricked me into fal-“ I faltered then, dropping my head and covering my face with my hands as I sobbed loudly. I couldn’t admit it to Frost; it was too embarrassing, too fresh and too painful.

Frost didn’t say anything, clearly lost by my sudden outburst and not use to dealing with emotional women – angry gangstas, powers mob members, armed cops - sure.

A pathetic girl crying her heart out in front of him – that was something he wasn’t trained for and had basically no experience with – other than maybe putting a bullet in their head.

I remained hidden behind my palms, as the tears continued to stream down my face, but I heard Frost put his mug down and felt him move towards me slowly, almost cautiously. Suddenly I felt his strong arms wrap around me and I was pulled against him, my hands dropping from my face and instinctively landing on his large, hard chest, maintaining a small distance between us.

“What-“ I sniffed in confusion and surprise.

“Just shut up for a second.” Frost commanded gruffly and I closed my mouth. The shock of the gesture had stopped my tears and I let my hands drop in defeat so they hung limply at my side, his arms pulling me deeper into the hug. My body was now completely against his, my face pressed into the lapel of his jacket. I could feel my face getting hot even with cooling water on my cheek which was now dampening the material beneath me. I was glad my face was largely hidden from his eye - it had been a long time since I was this close to a man and it felt weird to be so intimate with Frost.

Frost didn’t seem to know how long he was supposed to hold me, but being crushed into the cashmere material made it hard to breathe and I was constantly sniffing in a desperate attempt not to ruin his suit with my runny nose. I tried to pull away slightly but I was pitifully weak compared to his strong embrace.

“Uh –Frosty?” I tried to gasp out faintly, speaking into his chest and tapping him as best as I could with my arms pinned to my side.

He released me and immediately created distance between us by stepping back a few feet. I dropped my face to hide the state I must look and frantically wiped at my eyes and nose so I would look slightly more presentable. I looked up through my eyelashes and saw Frost observing the ruined patch I had created on his jacket. I quickly grabbed a box of tissues that I had sat on the microwave and vaguely waved them at him without lifting my head. He grabbed a few with a murmur of thanks and then I did the same.

We both stood on opposite sides of the kitchen hopelessly trying to tidy ourselves us. It felt surreal.

After a while I thought I was slightly more together, but continued to pretend to be fixing myself because I didn’t want to stand in awkward silence again. I cleared my throat, swallowing the lump that had gathered in my throat, along with my emotions. I let out a deep breath in an attempt to gain back some control over myself, any annoyance or frustration with Frost having melted away with his unusually tender gesture. I felt like I needed to match his kindness by getting him out of this awkward situation of how to move forward. Best thing for him to do is ignore what just happened. I appreciated it, but I knew he’d be uncomfortable talking about it.

“So what do you want to know?” I asked frankly, ignoring what just happened in an attempt to show the same kindness back that he had shown me – I knew we were in the awkward situation of how to move forward, I also knew he wouldn’t want to talk about it. Best to pretend it didn’t happen, even if I appreciated it.

He looked up from his jacket when I spoke, briefly looking puzzled before he recognised what I was trying to do. He placed the tissue on the side, straightened his jacket out and faced me straight on, “How is it your alive?”

I wasn’t surprised at how blunt he was – I was finding it to be a clear Frost trait. I moved away from the counter - stuffing my used tissues into my back pocket and picking up mug - and went to sit at the small kitchen table. Frost followed in silence with his drink in hand and sat opposite.

As so I told him. I explained my original plan as well as what actually happened, no longer bothering to keep track of anything that I should maybe hold back from it. It was nice to confide in someone for once, feel like I could talk to someone without judging or people thinking I was insane – hell, Frost had probably heard much worst from him.

“That’s actually pretty impressive.” Frost admitted once I had finished, though I could tell he meant it was impressive for me, not necessarily him.

“Gee thanks.” I muttered sarcastically, partially still lost in recollection as I stared at my finger tracing the lip of my mug. The only thing that had really gone wrong with my plan was dropping my gun. I ran over the moment in my head, the faded and cloudy but I remembered hitting the water and, if I thought hard enough, I felt that I might be able to remember the point at which I lost the weight of the gun in my hand.

But maybe it was for the best. It stopped me thinking so much of him, it stopped me murdering someone, and it stopped me being traced back to Gotham – heck how was I going to explain I had a dead girl’s gun who looked a lot like me?

“He has it you know.” Said Frost out of the blue, breaking into my thoughts. “Your gun.” He clarified. Damn mind reader.

“I know.” I murmured, glancing slightly up at Frost, but continuing to draw a circle around the top of my mug with my index finger. He looked at me confused. I stood up and moved just behind Frost where I opened at draw in the counter and pulled out the old Gotham Gazette. “This found its way into the pub the other day.” I explained dropping it in front of him before sitting back down in my chair and taking a swig from my cup – the coffee now lukewarm. “Hence why I was ‘raving’” I quoted, smirking slightly.

Frost nodded in understanding, unfolding the paper and skimming over the article. I waited as he read, sipping aimlessly at my drink and staring into space. Eventually Frost refolded the paper, leaving the picture of the Joker with his unemotional rictus and dark blank eyes. I stared at it for a while, unable to take my eyes off it before I abruptly shot myself forward and flipped it upside down so only the text from the articles and a few adverts were visible. When I settle backed down in my seat I could feel my heart beat pounding against my skin and I stared at the colourful cup before me.

“He jumped in the river.” Stated Frost calmly, but making me jump slightly none the less. I looked up at him but he was staring in his own mug at the pool of dark coffee that remained in the bottom. “There was a moment when I actually thought he’d finally lost it.” Frost admitted, “Gone suicidal.” He explained, pausing before lifting his head to meet my gaze.

“But Boss remerged a few minutes later with your gun in his hand.” Frost told me, “Though that wasn’t what surprised me the most.” He shook his head slightly, as though he wanted the memory out of his mind.

“What?” I murmured, barely above a whisper, not bothering to correct him that he fallen back into calling him ‘Boss’ again.

“His face. It terrified me. He looked almost tortured. Like he’d seen something in those waters that had struck him to the core. That’s why I was so certain you were dead. I thought he’d seen you.

I couldn’t tell you what emotion he was feeling at that point – he looked angry at one angle, sad at another, but he always kept that damn grin of his on – though for once it didn’t me-“

“-meet his eyes.” I finished with him. He nodded at my guess. “That’s what I see when I look at that picture” I said quietly, and he knew I was talking about the newspaper.

“The only time I’ve really seen him like that before was when he went off on a rage at Penguin’s.” Frost said truthfully. I perked up at this.

“When did he do that?” I questioned.

“It was the afternoon after you jumped.” Frost informed me, “Penguin called a meeting with the Boss like he often has. I waited outside.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know the whole story – I couldn’t hear everything. He seemed to tell the boss what happened to you – Boss didn’t take it well. I think I heard him ask Penguin why you would have done it – Boss didn’t like that either.” Frost shook his head, “Then he just lost it. Completely. Damn near strangled that fat man to death. Took out most of his men – and it wasn’t quick and clean either.”

I looked away and gulped. I couldn’t imagine what it was like – I wasn’t that creative – but I knew what he was capable of.

“Once we’d made it outside we commandeered a vehicle and went to the bridge. Then he jumped.”

We fell into silence again as I digested the information.

“[Y/N]” Frost suddenly spoke up – clearly wanting to say something he’d been holding back for a while. I looked at him with concern – what was he so worried about? “[Y/N].” He repeated and I nodded to encourage him to go on, “I need you to come back to Gotham with me.” he said frankly.

I didn’t say a word, just stared at him in wide eyed shock. So he was here to take me back! Had he lied to me?! Had he known I was alive? Had he known I was here? Did the Joker?!

I could feel my mouth was slightly agape at but I couldn’t find it in myself to do anything about it. “You lied to me.” I breathed at him, “You said you didn’t know I was alive. You said you weren’t here to get me.”

“No -  [Y/N] – it’s not –“

“I can’t believe I trusted you.” I muttered, staring at the table in front of me, “I knew I should have run when I had the chance. I should have run when I saw that paper. I’m not far enough away.” I babbled to myself.

“[Y/N], you don’t understand. The Joker is doing all of this because of you!” Frost said, grabbing the newspaper that had been left forgotten on the table and flipping it so the main picture faced up again. “If you came back –“

“No!” I cried, pushing myself up abruptly so I stood before him, “Don’t you dare blame this all on me!” I screamed snatching the newspaper from the table and thrusting it in his face. Frost sat in silence, no retaliation leaving his lips. As I stood there in silence, holding the newspaper aloft and breathing heavily, I couldn’t help but think - What had got the Joker acting like this? It did seem to be me. But that couldn’t possibly be true. Maybe he was just pissed because I had found a way out of his traps. That I had escaped and he couldn’t play and torment me anymore. I was just a toy he had lost – he’d get over it soon and find a new person to turn into his life-size doll.

He was a manipulative, psychopathic torturer and I needed him completely out of my life. That meant no more thinking about him, no more newspapers, no more Gotham and definitely no more Frost.

I strode over to the bin and let the paper fall from my hand, shutting the bin over the top in with a satisfy thud. I then took a calming breath and turned to the henchman before me. “Frost. Thank you for telling me all this – though a part of me also wished you hadn’t” I admitted truthfully, I shook my head – I had to be strong, stern. “I see no further reason for us to see each other,” I stated briskly, “so I shall walk you to the door and I wish you well on wherever you are going now.”

Frost looked surprise at my sudden turn of mood, and stood up alongside me, the coffee mugs left cold and forgotten on the table, “[Y/N] I –“

“I would also like to inform you,” I interrupted him, “that I shall be moving on from here as soon as can be arranged and I would greatly appreciate it if you didn’t attempt to find me.” I told him formally but firmly, though already I could feel tears pricking at my eyes and my throat going tight.

“But [Y/N] –“

“Enough! Frost.” I cried, biting back my tears as they welled in the corner of my eyes. “There is nothing else I can give you! You have the answers you wanted! Isn’t it time you left me in peace?” I insisted. Frost looked lost as to what he should do now, like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how. “Look, I’d like to consider you a friend.” I said honestly trying, but failing to hide the emotion in my voice, “So can you be a friend and let me get on with my new life, without all this drudging up of my past?” I begged.

He looked at me and I think he could see how desperate I was to get him out of my house. He finally gave me a silent nod and followed me out of the kitchen and down the hallway to the front door. I opened it and he stepped out. “One last thing Frost.” I called, “Please promise me you won’t tell anyone about me, especially him.” I looked him dead in the eye and he looked back. There was something there. He still wanted to say something. “Promise me.” I pleaded and I could feel one traitorous tear fall down my cheek.

He nodded. “Say it!” I cried.

“I promise.”

And with that, I slammed the door closed.

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader Deadly Voice Part 27

Ok, next part’s ready-ish!

I’m sorry if Frost isn’t great or out of character - I don’t really know his character particularly well so I kind of made it up.

I’ve changed and edited this quite a bit, so sorry if there’s any inconsistencies or anything like that!

Enjoy! :) 

Masterlist

I slid into the seat across from Frost and looked over at him. He looked back, but neither of us spoke and I could feel a tightness forming in my chest from nerves of the situation. How was I going to explain any of this?

I couldn’t hold eye contact with the burly man in front of me, my courage soon giving out and I dropped my eyes to the battered wooden table between us, studying the cracks and dents that littered the top. I fidgeted with my hands, folded and unfolding them before laying the awkwardly in my lap, never usually this self-aware and so unsure what I usually did with them.

“Can I have my phone back now?” Asked Frost, finally breaking the silence and causing me to lift my gaze from what I suspected was a sticky puddle of spilt drink on the table.

“Uh, yeah, sure.” I mumbled, digging into my trouser pocket to pull out his phone before sliding it across the table toward him. He grunted a thanks at me and turned his attention to the little gadget as the silence reformed around us.

Now he wasn’t looking at me I gained a bit of my confidence back and, keeping my face down at the table, I peeked up through my eyelashes at him. From what I could see of him he looked exhausted. He hadn’t bothered to smooth any of his clothing disarray I had noticed earlier and the bags under his eyes screamed for a good night sleep.

I wondered how long it had been since he had quit – if he truly had – from the Joker. How long had he been travelling to get here? And why was he here? What were the chances of him coming to this tiny town exactly when I was here? Was it chance or did he know something – and did that mean that the Joker knew? Had he been sent here to get me? I began to feel the panic building in my body. My plan must have failed somehow, I must have not accounted for something, something that now meant everyone knew! But what would happen now? If the Joker knew would he drag me back to Gotham? Was that Frost was here for? But the Joker didn’t care about me anymore, had he told Penguin?  Would Penguin bring me back or kill me for breaching our contract?!

I could feel my heart physically pounding in my chest and my breath was short as I alarmed myself thinking through all possible outcomes. Maybe if I could get away now I could make it back to my place and leave before anyone realised? I could go into hiding and keep moving between places so they would never catch up to me.

That sounded exhausting though. I had done it briefly after leaving Gotham and had hated it – never settling, the constant worry as to where to go next.

“If you’re thinking of running, don’t.” muttered Frost, his voice almost sounding bored – like this was something he had to repeat a lot. He hadn’t looked up from his phone screen, but clearly sensed my agitation from across the table. “No one can run forever. We always catch up.” He said ominously, typing something onto his phone. “Not that there is a ‘we’ anymore.” He murmured to himself, pushing a final button before slipping the device it into an inside pocket of his jacket.

I didn’t say anything to this, I just watched his every movement, tensed for whatever he might do next – for him to explain everything or just simply pull a gun on me.

Why hadn’t I thought of any of this earlier when I had first saw him? I would have had plenty of time to get away, but instead I had got too hung up on the fact that it was good to see a familiar face, especially one that reminded me of him.

Why did it only occur to me what a bad idea this was when I was sat opposite to Frost?!

I didn’t want to take my eyes off him in case I missed something important, but I could tell the pub was now basically empty as it was close to closing. Great no witnesses I thought sarcastically.

I tried to swallow the lump in my throat but it didn’t help and my insides felt tight and twisted. I couldn’t stand the suspense anymore. “Will you please just tell me what’s going on! Or just bloody kill me!” I blurted out, almost screaming at him from my nerves and fears getting the better of me. Frosts eyes shot open in surprise at my sudden outburst.

“Kill you?” He repeated in confusion, “I have no over powering desire to kill you [Y/N].” he stated, trying to provide a bit of comfort to me, but it did nothing to soothe my already tightly wound nerves.

“Then pleeeasssee!” I dragged out in a beg, “Just tell me what you want from me, or what you’re going to do!” I cried in desperation, and slight hysteria. He looked at me like I’d lost my slightly lost my mind, but then his face turned to one of puzzlement, before he looked away from me in thought.

“To be honest [Y/N], I don’t know.” He admitted, with a shrug of his shoulder, looking out into the centre of the empty room. “I wasn’t expecting to actually find you here.”

It was my turn to look confused now. “What do you mean?” I muttered quietly.

Frost ran one of his hands through his short hair, scratching the back of his head as he seemed to think about how to explain. “Well to start with you were supposed to be dead.” he pointed out. “After that...” He trailed off, letting out a life that signalled his exhaustion was getting to him.

He truly didn’t seem to know what was going on any more than I did, and he didn’t seem to want to hurt me either. This gave me a bit of comfort and meant I could focus a bit better, the blood pumping through my veins not feeling as strong as before.

I could see now however, that if I wanted answers I was going to have to ask them. “So…” I started, searching for what I wanted to know first, “You truly don’t work for the Joker anymore?” I hesitated before I said his name, and still felt my heart jump a when I said it.

Frost finally faced me again, “No. I don’t.” He said simply. I rolled my eyes and sighed. This was going to be a long night if this was the best answer he could give.

“Why?” I pushed him.

He narrowed his eyes at me slightly, “Didn’t you hear me earlier? I knew you were listening in.”

“Well yeah, I just wasn’t 100% sure it was the truth, or if you missed anything out…” I trailed off and looking away in embarrassment that it had been so obvious I was eavesdropping.

It was ‘100% true’”, he quoted back mockingly, “Boss- I mean - he, he’d gotten even worse than usual  He’s just been carelessly destroying things without rhythm or reason.” He explained, I raised an eyebrow at him, “I know he doesn’t seem like he usually has a reason anyway, but it’s usually for a joke to him or some sort of long term plan of his. But recently. It’s for nothing.”

“So that’s why you left?” I asked as I leant forward in interest, folding my arms on the table.

“Sort of. I’ve just been nothing but a getaway vehicle on the off-chance he survived recently. He rarely ever gives me any orders other than to wait in the car and never calls for backup anymore. If he can’t handle the situation he doesn’t even care, he just stays in there, waiting to be overwhelmed. If it wasn’t for the fact I automatically follow after him now, he’d have been landed in Arkham on every mission - or worse.” Frost shook his head slightly at this and ran his hand back through his hair, “I’m pretty sure if he got thrown in that damn Asylum again he wouldn’t even bother to break out anymore.” He admitted twisting in his chair so he faced the rest of the pub instead of me.

“As much as I’m just hired muscle and he’s just a psychotic clown I can’t stand by and watch him become suicidal.” Confessed Frost who seemed to be staring at a table across the room - though I was sure he wasn’t actually seeing it, but instead reliving the past few missions he had done with the Clown Prince.

I nodded as he spoke; I understood that for Frost - as much as he wouldn’t admit it – there was almost a kind of friendship there, in a weird kind of way. I didn’t know what I could say to provide support or consolation, and I was almost certain Frost didn’t want any comfort I would offer. Men.

We fell back into an awkward silence – at least it was awkward for me, Frost still seemed to be in a world of his own. I fidgeted in my seat and fiddled with my hands that still lay in my lap – I needed to keep the conversation going.

“Uh – so how is it that he hasn’t?” Frost glanced over his shoulder at me, “You-know – got caught yet?” I clarified lamely.

Frost shrugged his shoulders, and returned his gaze to the rest of the pub, “I really don’t know – it’s pure chance. He will soon, if he hasn’t already.”

“How long ago did you leave?”

Frost paused and considered this. “3 days ago.”

I was surprised by this. That meant he couldn’t have stopped anywhere else – he came straight to this little town. “You came straight here?” He nodded without looking around at me. “Why?”

He turned back around to face me again, crossing his arms – he seemed glad to have changed the subject and had resorted back to his usual self. “I got a call.”

I raised an eyebrow in annoyance at his vagueness, “From…?” I pressed.

“A girl. She said she had met someone who had over reacted about the Joker – practically defended him - and who seemed pretty attached to the clown. She wanted to know why. Seemed like someone who was quite keen on a good gossip.”

I sat up straight, my hands falling back into my lap. No. It couldn’t have been.

“What was her name?” I asked through gritted teeth, my temper flaring and I clenched my hands into fists beneath the table.

“Don’t really recall – didn’t seem that important.” He looked at my face and read the anger there, “I don’t know, maybe Harriet? Hannah?”

Hannah. Bitch. I couldn’t believe her! Was this before or after we’d had our talk about not bringing it up again?! Did it really matter? It was still low to go digging around in my past – she could have ruined everything! “I knew I should have bloody killed her.” I grumbled to myself, not really meaning it.

“What?” Shot Frost, clearly having heard what I had muttered. I blushed at his sudden interest.

“Uh- it’s nothing. I may have had an urge, or two, at one point, but it’s fine.” I stuttered out, trying to brush it off as a silly little incident, but I could see Frost was more alert now. I tried to move the subject on, “So, uh, did she say anything else?”

Frost eyed me and I could tell he knew I was trying to avoid the subject, but he let it slide anyway. “Well I did the usual background check on her –a random small town girl somehow getting hold of my phone number was suspicious – so I questioned her about all of that.”

“And?”

“Nothing - she’s just very dedicated to her gossip.” I noticed Frosts lip turn up a bit in a slight smirk and I rolled my eyes at him. “After that I was interested about what she was so desperate to know about.” He confessed, “I had no idea it was you she was talking about. The idea of someone raving about the Clown Prince of Crime, or even defending him didn’t immediately make me think of you.” I blushed because – of course – I had. “I asked for the name anyway, but of course it wasn’t you.”

That was true, it wouldn’t have been. I had formed a whole new identity for myself to prevent exactly this happening – any rumours or gossip finding their way back to Gotham.

“The only part that gave me any indication it might be you was her description. She described the ‘person’ before she even told me anything else – it was the only reason I let her prattle on so long. It fit you exactly. But then, of course after that, nothing else added up.” He stopped then, not saying anything else.

“So? What’s that got to do with anything?” I asked frustrated - still confused how this meant he ended up here.

“Well this happened whilst I was still working for him. We were both working under the fact that you were dead – though no one had yet to recover a body. So this story just seemed impossible to be you – you’re not the only one that can look like that,” he gestured at me with a wave of his hand. “So I dropped it. Didn’t even bother telling the Boss.” Frost shrugged. “Then I left him and needed some place to go, start again. I remember the name of the town that girl – Hannah?” I nodded silently, “yeah, she mentioned this town before I hung up on her – I guess it stuck in my head.” He said simply.

“So you didn’t actually come looking for me?”

“No. Had no idea that you were actually alive, let alone here.” He exclaimed, “I guess I just thought it was a good place to start at before I figured out what I was going to do.”

I sat leant backwards in my chair, throwing my head back. This was a lot of information in a very brief time and it was overwhelming me. Frost appeared to have woken up with his story telling and seemed to have a new lease of life, but I was now exhausted.

I scrubbed my face with my hands, trying to keep myself going, and get all this information straight. “Wait,” I said suddenly, swinging my head forward to look at Frost again, “You say that you left him, did you tell him or did you just – you-know – leave?”

Frost raised an eyebrow at me as if I’d just asked the stupidest question he’d ever heard, “Have you ever tried to tell him something?” I got his point and nodded my head at this. He let out a loud breath, “No, I didn’t tell him. I left early one morning.” He paused, “Truthfully I don’t think he would have listened if I’d told him.”

“That explains your drinking earlier.” I teased with a small smile, he looked at me like I wasn’t the least bit funny, but his eyes were light so I knew he wasn’t really annoyed, “I’m not proud, “ he started, “but you’d do the same if you’d just up and left the bloody Joker – he’s not been known to take kindly to deserters.”

I nodded and made noises in agreement - yeah I could understand that perfectly. We lapsed into silence again, but it felt more comfortable now – both of us having cleared the air somewhat between us. I leant forward again, leaning my elbows on the table so I could put my chin on my hands, resting my now heavy head.

I could feel my eyes getting heavy and I closed them for some relief. This was a weird night alright, my life felt like, once again, it had been spun upside down. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect Frost to suddenly turn up, but then I never imagined Hannah to seek him out! I sat up at the reminder of the betrayal, clenching my fists again – but wasn’t it my fault for being do ridiculous over a newspaper article? A small voice in the back of my mind said. Suddenly I felt my head falling to the side and my arm nearly gave way beneath me. I shot up quickly blinking rapidly in surprise that I was not sat upright with clenched fists.

“Alright. I’m calling it a night.” I said unequivocally, pushing myself to my feet abruptly and losing my balance slightly, catching myself on the table. Frost sat up slightly, from where he too had been slumping.

“I suppose you’re right – you do look like you’re about to drop.” He stated, rising from his seat to join me by the table. I looked over at him annoyed that he was picking on me like I was weak little girl.

“Oh, and you the picture of coping?” I asked rhetorically, gesturing him up and down. He looked down at himself at his crinkled, untucked shirt, creased jacket and loose hanging tie. I was certain I caught a slight look of embarrassment but he quickly hid it behind his calm mask. He didn’t say anything in retort.

He followed me as I made my way out of the pub. I waved at the evening cleaning lady as I left who waved back surprised there was still someone in the building other herself, and became even more surprised when she noticed the well-built, intimidating man following on behind me.

I stopped outside the entrance and turned to Frost, “I presume you have a place to stay?”

“I was planning to find a place for the evening.” He informed me and I rolled my eyes at him again.

“Well good luck with that.” I said without hesitation, giving him a cheerful smile. If he seemed phased that I hadn’t offered help or shelter, he quickly hid it, only lingering on the spot for a few moments before he headed in the opposite direction, further into the town centre. “Well goodnight.” I muttered sarcastically into the darkness as I headed home.

When I finally closed my front door behind me, I found myself breaking down into tears. Everything today had slowly been winding me tighter and tighter, and - now in the comfort of my own home - I felt like I could finally let out the breath I had been holding since the start of my shift when I had seen Frost.

They weren’t tears of sadness, just tears of no longer having the energy to control anything, tears that contained every emotion I had experienced that day – shock, relief, joy, fear, and anger – everything all finally pouring out of me.

I managed to find the energy to deadbolt as well as lock my door tonight – never having done so because, well, would I in a town where the only crime was too high a price on the local vegetable stand? But now - if people from my past were going to start reappearing - I no longer felt as safe.

When I finally collapsed into bed - though my mind continued to whirl with thoughts and worries - it wasn’t long before exhaustion won over and I sunk into a dreamless sleep.

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader Deadly Voice Part 26

Hi guys - next parts out!

I’m a little bit worried about writing bits with Frost in because I feel like I don’t really know the character - so I hope its alright!

(Can you tell I’m putting off any real conversation? hahaha  I am really worried about writing it because I think’ll it’ll be hard to not mess it up - so it might take a while to get the next bit out!)

Hope you enjoy it! Feel free to leave me any comments on it or have a chat to me - about this or anything! I love talking to you guys!

Masterlist

I didn’t know what to do and probably stood there frozen far too long. The group in front of me, whom I was supposed to be serving, were beginning to look at me oddly - as though I had forgotten how to function.

I quickly apologised and served the final drinks before moving to an empty table just to the side of me, still within hearing distance. I strained my ears to hear what was going on as I pretend to wipe the table top with a cloth and spray that I had tucked into my apron.

The stranger had asked why Frost wasn’t with the Joker anymore. I expected the larger man to go on the defensive and tell him it was none of his business and to butt out, but tonight Frost seemed to be in the mood to talk – maybe he had consumed one too many drinks.

“He’s just gone insane.” I heard him state. The man opposite must have looked at him funny because Frost tried to reiterate, “Look, I know the guy is insane – that’s his thing and all - but it’s become even worse.” Clearly the guy still didn’t believe him because he carried on, “I mean he’s completely deranged now. There is no more genius behind the plans anymore – it’s all poorly thought through suicide missions.

There’s no sit down and thought processes behind them - it’s just blow up a wall in a bank and pray the cops are on the other side of Gotham!” cried Frost a bit too loudly, and I flinched - geez maybe he was quite drunk. Even if you had just left your life with as criminal, you still didn’t just shout about it.

Not that I blamed him for hitting the drink this hard. If I had just abandoned the clown prince I would need at least a couple strong drinks to get me through - plus a few more to calm the nerves abut that fact that he might come after me for abandoning him. I had nothing but sympathy for the Joker’s ex-bodyguard right now.

“Any fun that I use to find in it left a while a go – we were always cutting it too close.” Frost continued, calming down a bit so that his volume returned to a normal level, but still making the most of finally being able to talk about something that had clearly been bugging him for a while.

“The man’s getting worse as well.” He exclaimed, “He now purposefully walks into a room to die - it’s some strange miracle that he hasn't yet. Don’t get me wrong,” he said honestly, “he’s always played with his life - but he knew the odds - now he ensures they are stacked against him.”

 I listened to all this as I scrubbed the table, my back to him so he couldn’t accidentally see my face. I soon realised I’d been there too long, and I couldn’t justify hanging around with the pub this busy, all staff run off their feet.

Instead, I reluctantly headed back to the bar, forcing myself to stay facing forward and not look back for even a glimpse of Frost – I couldn’t risk it. Instead I danced around the tables; trying to ensure that the least amount of my face would be visible, should he glance my way. Yes, it may be true that he no longer worked for the Joker, but I still didn’t want him to recognise me – who knew who he’d tell and who it would get back to.

Once at the bar I tried to ensure that I made any drinks with my back to his general direction as well, turning only briefly to place them in front of the customers on the bar stools.

I caught a glimpse of the guy across from Frost stand up, shake hands with the Joker’s bodyguard and then turn and leave. I was just about to move onto the next round of drink orders when I saw the ex-right-hand-man stand up from his table and make his way in my direction. Shit.

Without thinking I instantly dropped down behind the bar, pretending to tidy the shelves below for far longer than I needed to. I paused for a moment, knowing I had orders I was supposed to making. I could do that down here right? I took my time choosing glasses and filling them with ice cubes, before lifting them up to blindly place them on the counter top without moving from my hidden position.

Then I paused. What was I going to do now?! I remained crouched there desperately thinking to myself how I was going to check where he’d gone without him seeing me - and how I was going to continue working if he was going to hang around all night?!

My eye then caught movement to my left and my neck snapped round to see Frankie, another waitress/bartender friend, walk behind the bar and abruptly stopped in surprise when she noticed me squatting amongst the glasses and ice boxes. She crinkled her eyebrows in silent confusion at me and I shot her a pleading look in response, putting my finger to my lips. She gave me the smallest nod in acknowledgement and I sighed in relief as she returned to her task. She may question my sanity, but she was willing to ignore it for now.

I was – however - still stuck behind on my knees behind the bar.

Maybe I could just stay here for the rest of the evening – I could try to convince Frankie to run the drinks for me if I could manage to make them. Or I could try to ask her if to play spy for me and let me know where he was – but then that might require an explanation as to why.

As I debated in my head and wavered between my different options I suddenly felt a tap on my head. I look up instinctively to see Frost peering at me over the top of the bar.  

Shit.

I immediately dropped my head back down - nearly overbalancing in the process and causing a few bottles to wobble, precariously close to falling. I silently prayed that I had been fast enough so he hadn’t seen my face properly – though even I knew that was a hopeless ask. Maybe he’d think he was going insane – what with me supposedly dead and all.

I felt the same tap again. “Uh- err, can I help you, sir?” I asked, trying to alter the tone of my voice slightly as I kept my eyes on the sticky lino flooring and pretended to be messing with the glasses on the shelves in front of me.

“I need to have a chat with you.” Frost’s voice came from above me. “Miss [L/N].” He added, and I could hear humour in his voice.

Damn.

I hung my head in defeat and slowly rose to my feet, keeping my head down until I was stood upright. He had been leant against the bar and now straightened up as I finally looked him fully in the face. It was like looking at the first friendly face in weeks - like even the friends I now had were strangers to me compared to the man before me. He was the only piece of Gotham I really had and looking at him almost felt like my life was back to normal and I was in the city I loved again.

“I don't believe it.” He breathed and I could feel myself blush with the shame of my situation. From this distance I could smell the alcohol on his breath, and for the first time I saw real emotion, not just the reactionless mask he usually wore. I could see the surprise clearly in his eyes and, what that, relief? Must be the drink. “I thought it was you when I watched you walk away from my table…” he murmured, “But I honestly didn’t believe it.”

“How did you see me?” I asked, ignoring his muttering.

He blinked a few times - as if stupefied that I could speak - before he shook his head slightly and seemed to gain back control over himself again – any emotions wiped from his face – back to how I usually knew him. “You don't get to my level of this sort of job without noticing things.” He pointed out, a smirk playing on his lips, “Like your friend’s not-so-subtle way of agreeing to keep your hiding place.”

Damn. “So no spy career in my future?” I asked jokingly – not knowing what else to say in that moment.

“I highly recommend avoiding thievery as well.” He informed me, with humour in his eyes and I chuckled – the first genuine laugh I’d had since I’d started my new life.

My laughter died down and a silence fell between us, but it was almost comfortable and my smile remained on my face as I looked at him. I let out a deep sigh at him. “It’s actually really good to see you.” I admitted taking him in.

He looked the almost the same as usual with his neatly trimmed facial hair, dark suit and matching tie. But some things were off about him - his suit, usually buttoned-up, hung open to reveal a crinkled and creased shirt, the tails un-tucked from his trousers and the top button undone with his tie handing loosely around his neck.

He looked like he’d had a rough night.

“I can actually say the same for you too.” He confessed and I gave him a questioning look, but didn’t push it for now.

We stood in silence for a minute, both of us drinking in the odd situation we had found ourselves in – neither expecting to have been in the same room as the other again. It was almost surreal.

I eventually broke the silence, “Look Frost,as much as I would love to stay and chat – or not as the case may be,” I teased, “I actually have a job I am supposed to be doing…” I trailed off suggestively gesturing at the drink bottles and taps around me.

“I get that [Y/N], I do. But I actually need to talk to you.” Urged Frost, not use to considering other people’s lives in his usual line of work.

“And I get that.” I retorted. “But some people need to work to live – and that includes me.

If you are willing to wait around till my shift ends, then we can talk.” I informed him and he seemed to consider his options behind he submitted and gave me a single conformational nod. I nodded back at him and turned to leave.

“Oh.” I said, turning back to him, “You do need to promise me something.” I stated, looking him dead in the eye and pointing a finger at his broad chest, “You tell no one – and I mean no one,” I emphasised, “about me or my situation. That includes your green haired boss. We need to talk about this all first.”

Frost frowned at me and my stipulations but eventually nodded. “Fine.” He muttered.

“Fine.” I mimicked, “See you at 11.” With that I grabbed my tray of drinks Frankie had kindly finished making for me and walked back toward my job, but hesitated. I looked back over my shoulder to see Frost pull out a phone from his jacket pocket, unlock it and begin flicking his fingers over the screen, skim reading something. I frowned and turned, putting the tray back on the bar and returning to stand in front of him, eyeing him suspiciously.

“What?” he asked rudely, not looking up until I didn’t say anything, at which point he lifted his head and raised an insolent eyebrow at me.

“Give me your phone.” I ordered without wavering.

“Why?” he asked stubbornly, keeping a tight grip on his little black device.

“I don’t trust you not to tell him.” I stated bluntly.

“I won’t.”

“Yeah right.” I said unconvinced, “You’re the Joker’s lap dog whether you like it or not.” I pointed out, both of us flinching slightly at his the name. I recovered from the slip and carried on, “You say you won’t now, and I know you say you ‘don’t work for him anymore’” I said using my fingers as quotation marks, “but your natural response to anything like this would be to taddle – so how do I know you won’t convince yourself into doing it whilst you’re sat here?”

He looked at me with a calculated expression, almost as though trying to determine if I had lost my mind or if I was actually speaking some sense. Eventually he nodded, handing me the phone without a word.

I took the phone from his large hand, feeling the rough skin beneath my fingers, and slipped it into the back pocket of my trousers. I gave him a nod and returned to my tray of drinks, leaving him leaning against the bar.

 I kept my eye on him for the rest of the night as I navigated my way around the pub - taking orders, delivering drinks and wiping down tables. All he did however was find a stool at the bar and remain there, nursing several strong drinks.

As the night wore on the pub began to thin out – no one exactly being late night partiers in this quaint little town.

When I noticed him swallow down rest of his amber liquid and order his fourth, I headed to the bar to intercept the order - telling Frankie, who was manning the bar, that “I got his one” with a quick smile. She shrugged her shoulders, not caring that she didn’t need to serve one other patron and moved on to the next person gesturing for her attention.

He looked at me in confusion and I could already see the alcohol clouding his mind in the smallest of actions – the way he was slumped instead of sat tall and proper, the way his hands rested - not ready for any quick reflex - and the way his eyes were drooping slightly - no longer bright and alert. I felt sorry for him, but I wouldn’t let him drown himself in alcohol.

“Sorry my friend, I’m cutting you off.” I told him, removing the glass before him and replacing it with some water. “Drink that or don’t drink anything.”

He looked at the drink before him, realised it wasn’t alcoholic, and looked at me reproachfully, trying to make me cower under his glower. I didn’t back down however, matching his stare with my own stern glare, “This is going to be hard enough, without having to deal with you completely wasted.” I defended. He grumbled something unintelligible before standing up - leaving his water - and walking off to an empty booth in a quieter part of the pub, sitting with his back to the majority of the pub. I sighed loudly in exasperation and left him to it, returning once more to my job. However, when I wandered past his booth, I silently slid a glass of water toward him. I moved off before I saw his reaction but the next time I looked over the glass was empty.

 Eventually, after what seemed like too long and not long enough, I served my last drink. I made my way to the back room, untying my apron on the way. I hung my apron up and retrieved my belongings from my locker, hanging my bag over my shoulder. I paused in the middle of the room to compose myself before I made my way back out into the main pub, over to where Frost sat silently in his booth, staring at the empty bench in front of him.

I stood before his table looking at his side profile. He didn’t make a move.

“Ok.” I sighed, placing my hands on my hips and shifting most of my weight into my left leg, “Let’s talk.”

[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]

Christmas Fanfiction Advent Calendar 2017 - Day 4 - Strictly Business Part 6

Ok, so I know quite a few people have been asking for the next part of this series, so I decided to the next part of it for the advent calendar - its hardly ‘Chrtistmasy’ but, oh well! haha

Hope you Enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The cold air whipped past my window, I could hear it hollowing against the panes of glass, and I thought - though it was hard to tell through the murky glass and the dark streets - that a snow flurry had begun. I hugged myself tightly. It wasn’t cold in the room, but just the sound of the weather outside made me shiver.

I had been left in the room now for probably at least 6 hours – though I had no way to tell. My stomach was empty and pulling at me sharp and painfully, and I was bored out of my mind. I had explored my room a bit, but found very little of interest – the contents of the wardrobes and dressers only entertaining me for the short time it took to empty them.

I had managed to fall asleep for a few hours, but something unknown had awoken me, and now I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the grimy window, unable to sleep thanks to my protesting stomach.

I had even tried knocking at the door in the hope of getting an answer, but received nothing back. I don’t think the joker had even bothered to post guards on the other side of the door – there wasn’t like there was anyway I get out of this room.

It was definitely snowing, I thought to myself as I watched something white float past the window, then another, and another, the white smudges dancing and twirling around each other, catching the light just enough to let me see them before they dashed back into the darkness. First snow of the year. That was nice. And where was I? Trapped in a dressed-up warehouse cell, I thought bitterly to myself. The view would have been much nicer from the top floor of the office block, at my desk with a cup of coffee and a bagel or pastry.

The idea of food made my stomach pang again and I tried to block the idea from my mind. “So much for being a bloody guest,” I grumbled to myself, “doesn’t even bother to offer any food service.” Maybe I was going to go loopy in this room. Maybe that was his plan.

And so, I continued to watch the window, focusing on the gradual layer of white that built up on the ledge outside, wishing I could open the window somehow and touch it. I settled instead on placing my hand against the cold glass, imaging what it would feel like and leaning my forehead against the window pane as I tried to think about anything other than being stuck in this room, or how hungry I was.

I sighed loudly, my breath hitting the cold glass and spreading outwards, obscuring a large circle with fog. I moved my hand, now placing in directly in the centre of the fog, then removing it, smiling childishly at the hand print left behind.

I exhaled another large rush of air and began to doodle randomly. Some were just simple swirls or shapes, but soon joking with myself by writing help backwards even though I knew no one could see it. I felt like an idiot, taking such fun from such a trivial thing, but at least it was taking my mind off everything else.

 I don’t know how long I had banged around in that room when I eventually heard someone. I practically jumped out of my skin when I finally heard the sound of footsteps - not having heard anything for over 8 hours. I had been lying on my bed, praying that I could take a nap to let the time pass quicker and must have dozed off because I now shot bolt upright, slightly disorientated and gripping the covers and sheets under me tightly. It flooded back quickly enough though, but my heart remained in my throat, pounding wildly as listened with strained ears to the footsteps in the corridor outside.

The sound was at my door now. Then the noise of metal on metal. The lock clicking. Then the door opened.

The man in the doorway was unknown to me, and he barely acknowledged my presence, simply stepping one foot into the room, saying, “This is yours.” And then throwing a small, but heavy satchel at me that thunked on the floor by my feet ominously.

Then, in the short time it took me to glance down at the bag and back up to the guy to ask him what it was and what he meant  – having never seen the bag in my life – he was gone. The door snapping sharply shut behind him and there was the distinct sound of the door mechanism locking behind him once more.

Alone. Again. Great.

I peered into the bag only to find it full of wads of money, each held together tightly with an elastic band. I threw the bag to the foot of my bed in disgust. Fat lot that would do me, I thought bitterly. Not that I would keep it - I could guess where that money came from – the heist I had ‘helped with’ – but even if it wasn’t, this was the Joker we were talking about. All his money way stolen.

It didn’t matter anyway. I had no need for it whilst I was locked in here.

He could give me all the money in the world – right now all I wanted was something to eat.

 Eventually food was delivered to me, though it wasn’t until after a long painful night of hunger. Now it was a regular thing. Though I remained locked in my room, I had access to water from my ensuite bathroom and food delivered morning, midday and evening by large burly men that unlocked the door, handed me and tray and disappear, the door being locked after them.

I never tried to sneak out or attempt to get pas them, there was no point – they alone could probably deal with me judging by the amount of muscle on them. I soon began instead to offer them the previous trays in return as otherwise they never bothered to collect them and I would have ended up with a large pile of crumbs slowly decaying away.

 So, I was fine. I was surviving. And I wasn’t tortured. But I was trapped and felt like a prisoner, despite the luxurious accommodation. What I couldn’t comprehend was why the Joker hadn’t spoken to me in over a week now, and I was confused why he bothered to keep me alive at all, let alone keep me here like this.

After wondering this every day, I was then very surprised when the door sounded out of the usual hours of my meal deliveries. I had been lounging on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, entertaining myself with daydreams, when the knock sounded, and my gaze now immediately snapped to the door. I didn’t move, watching the door warily, but the knocking only became louder and more persistent.

Eventually I opened the door, revealing the Joker stood looking rather unimpressed at the delay, in the doorway. I raised an eyebrow, in question, equally unimpressed with his sudden appearance after all this time. “What?” I asked shortly. I was getting use to treating this room like my own, with no one else around, and took my recent apparent safety for granted.

“Is that a way to greet your host, doll?” Ask J in mock outrage, though I could hear the warning in his words. I rolled my eyes at him nonetheless.

“Do come in.” I said, overly politely, opening the door wider to him and flourishing my hand in a mocking gesture.

“As witty as ever, doll.” He observed dryly, striding past me into the room. For a brief moment I looked out the door and into the empty concrete hallway beyond. He hadn’t ensured the door was closed after him, and now I had a view of my freedom before me. But was I fast enough to outpace the Joker? And what were the chances of getting out of this warehouse, or managing to hide, before I was intercepted by one of the henchmen that I knew must patrol around.

“I wouldn’t, doll.” Came the Joker’s voice behind me, easily reading my thoughts. I knew he was right and I begrudgingly let the door fall shut, turning, instead, to face my captor instead.

“In that case, I’ll ask again.  what do you want?” I demanded, annoyed that once again I was still stuck here against my will. Not that It was a bad room, no. Now I was being fed I was even slightly content, but I hated the idea I was stuck here – plus I was bored out of my mind.

“So hostile.” Tutted J, looking offended. “I’m just here to give you some entertainment.” He grinned with a knowing smile, holding out his hands to either side, palms towards me in a welcoming gesture.

I eyed him suspiciously. “No thanks.” I muttered.

“Aw, come on, doll.” J persisted. “You don’t even know what it is yet.”

“If it’s you, then no thank you.”

“Whilst that is tempting, kitten.” The Joker teased with a sinful grin and glint in his eye, “I’m afraid not.” Stuck in his hand into his smart jacket – the action making me flinch, immediately jumping to the idea of him drawing a gun and finishing me – grinned at my reaction, and instead pulled out a folded piece of paper. He seemed to consider the document for a moment, before passing it over to me.

I hesitated slightly before taking it from him. “What is this?” I asked without opening it, only looking at the blank folded side.

“A present.” J said simply.

“Why?”

“Because its Christmas, doll. That’s what people do.” He said slowly like he thought I was slow in the mind. I raised an eyebrow at him and he let out one of his haunting laughs. “Well, close enough!” He amended. “Come on, doll, just accept it and get on with it.” He told me impatiently, waving his hand at the paper in my grip. “A thank you wouldn’t go amiss either.”

I wasn’t about to go thanking him until I knew what I was holding, so I opened up the piece of paper to find several sheets, all full of details and plans for another heist. I frowned at the documents in confusion.

“I’m still waiting, kitten….” J whined.

“I don’t understand…” I said, confused.

“Has all this time away from the office numbed you’re mind?” He demanded, irritated by my slow uptake. “They’re the documents for the next heist” He explained, jabbing his hand at them “ – seeing as you seem to enjoy the last one so much.”

I continued to frown down at the documents, yes, I had enjoyed the planning of the last heist – problem solving all the little kinks and flaws - but I couldn’t do another one. I had aided in a robbery – and a pretty lucrative one at that judging by the amount of money that had been in that bag delivered to me!

That bag now sat at the bottom of my wardrobe. I had tried to return it, attempting numerous times to give it over to the men that brought me food, but they just completely ignored it. So, in the end, I had moved it out of sight to the wardrobe. I didn’t want anything to do with it and keeping it out of sight helped to keep it off my mind.

“I can’t.” I said finally, handing it back to him. But the Joker didn’t reach for it.

“Sorry, doll, no returns.” He sneered and made towards the door. “Keep it. Maybe you’ll change your mind whilst your stuck in here with nothing else to do.” He teased with an evil grin. I scowled at him.

He was halfway out the door now, “Oh, by the way doll, if you don’t help, you’ll probably just be contributing to a whole lot more death.” He pointed out with a manipulating smile, before slamming the door closed and I heard the lock go.

I let out a cry of frustration, throwing the paper, though it hardly got far before it fluttered limply to the floor.

I was trapped again.

And he was right. If I helped I was aiding a crime, but I would also be able to edit it enough to minimise the amount of damage was done – property and people wise.

I sighed heavily as I looked over at the papers now sprawled on the floor, tossing back and form on what to do till my mind ran itself round in circle and I threw myself face down on the bed, screaming my frustrations into the pillows.

 I did.

I gave in.

I was felt quite ashamed by my choice, but in the end, I couldn’t help it. Or maybe I could. But either way, I didn’t. I had sat on my bed for ages, the boredom - and knowledge that I didn’t have to be bored - was like torture. The lure of the papers and my curiosity for the plans eventually overpowered me however, and soon my brain was listing excuses as to why it was ok to help.

And so I did it.

I sat at the armoire, rubbing out and pencilling in my edits as the snow flurried past my window. The plan this time was for the hijacking and stealing of a lorry of chemicals. I wondered what the Joker was up to, but soon decided that I’d rather not know – it made helping easier.

When I had done all I could do – and reread it at least 5 times – I knew I now needed to get the plans back to the Joker. So I waited, until my meal arrived that evening, and – as the large henchman handed over the food I in turn handed over the papers.

The man looked at it, but refused to take it, instead he gave a single nod and then closed the door in my face. I scowled in annoyance at the door. Why couldn’t he just take it from me?

I spent the rest of the evening alone until I thought about finally trying to get some sleep, when I heard a familiar loud and persistent knock at the door. This time I didn’t hesitate and opened the door to the Joker on the other side, the papers already in my hand. I handed it out to him, but he ignored it as well, pushing his way into the room.

“Evening, doll, I see you’ve been busy.” He grinned triumphantly as he turned back to face me, his eyes on the paper. I hadn’t even bothered to consider making a bid for freedom this time, automatically shutting the door behind him.

“Yes.” I answered. “Now just take it and leave me alone – or better yet – let me go.” I said, thrusting the paper at him. He didn’t grab, instead he grabbed me, his large pale hands easily wrapping all the way around my wrist and stopping me in my tracks.

“Why thank you, doll.” He said, plucking the paper from my fingers, but not releasing his grip on me. He tugged at my wrist and I was forced to step closer to him to keep my balance. “As for letting you go, doll, no can do – you’re quite a lucrative investment.”

I scowled darkly at him. “I am a person. Not a money-making scheme.” I snarled.

“Oh, I know, doll…” He sneered, “Which is why I have a little proposal for you…” I watched him suspiciously, I hadn’t been this close to him since the kiss and I could feel his breath on my face, the distinct smell of whisky and man. I could feel my body becoming aware of his and my temperature rose a few degrees.

“I am not sleeping with you.” I said firmly, though my voice didn’t sound as strong as I wanted it to.

The Joker grinned wickedly, “Ah, princess, that wasn’t what I had in mind, though I wouldn’t say it hadn’t crossed it…” He said, his eyes roaming my body sinfully. I should have felt disgusted, but I just felt every inch of her body burn under his gaze and I desperately tried to resist the urge to squirm under his scrutiny.

“What then?” I snarled.

He ‘Oooo’ed silently at me snapping at him before his face went neutral. “I want you to work for me, doll.” He stated simply.

I felt my eyes widen in shock. I hadn’t been expecting that. “I-I can’t.” I stuttered in surprise.

“And why not?” He enquired politely, his invisible eyebrows raised in question.

“Well…” I sought for my reasoning, but found my brain wasn’t quite working, “Because you’re a criminal! And I’m – I’m not…” I finished lamely.

He laughed at my pathetic attempt of justification. “Doll, you don’t have to be a criminal to work for me – besides you’re practically doing good.” He said slyly – “think of all the people you’re saving by helping me – and you’re not even losing me any money, so I don’t care.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

I desperately searched my mind. I couldn’t have this job, I knew that, but he was speaking sense - I was kind of helping people by working for the criminal, in a mixed up twisted way. There had to be a comeback to that, but my mind was mush.

“I – I already have a job!” I pointed out.

“I’ll pay you more.” J said, simply.

I sighed, “It’s not for the money – that is my own company, it’s worth more than any amount of money.”

“Last time I checked, doll, it was your husband’s business – at least that’s what everyone been saying.” He said slyly, knowing that would make me react, but I’m not sure he realised how much of a stab in my chest that was. Something snapped in me at that and, taking J completely by surprise, I violently wrenched my hand free from his grip and stormed out of the room to the only other place I had access to - The bathroom.

I slammed the door behind me and sat with my back against the door – as it had no lock – and felt the boiling rage quickly subside into a hot flood of tears and I was soon sobbing into my hands.

It had been a fear of mine that when the merger between my company and Mathew’s had taken place I would lose my company to the man, but the contract had seemed so clear - that though the companies had merged, there was still two distinct sides – his and mine. The two companies still existed separately but we took the same losses and gains together – a close knit team like I thought our marriage was supposed to be. But I also thought our marriage would mean that much to Mathew, that he would value me more as a person than a business partner – and that he would notice – and care – about my feelings towards my company, the struggles to build it and make it thrive, and exactly the reason why I hadn’t wanted a complete merger of the two businesses.

Clearly not if he was now actively encouraging people to believe it was all his company. Especially people who still seemed to be believe that women were no more than pretty trinkets on a man’s sleeve.

Eventually the tears subsided, though I still felt raw and my temper didn’t feel far from the surface. I wasn’t just mad at Mathew now – though he was the person I was most fuming at – but I was mad at the whole of society for thinking they could do this to me and get away with it. They had known me before I was Mathews wife, they knew me to be the powerful business woman I had been before the rings and ‘I dos’, they knew, as well as Mathew did, what that company meant to me, yet they’d happily call it his the minute we were an item. Like I was suddenly inconsequential.

I clenched my hands into fists, gritting my teeth together. I wished they were in this room with me right now, I would like to punch their smug, painted faces. I growled at myself, trying to find another outlet for the rage.

I hadn’t heard J move on the other side of the door for a while and I wondered if he’d left - yet I wasn’t sure I had heard the bedroom door go either – but I might have drowned it out under all of my sobbing.

I got to my feet, catching a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror, grimacing in disgust and splashing water on my face in a poor attempt to make myself slightly more presentable before I went back out.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, I found J staring out my window at the snow that seemed to constantly fall at the moment.

“Not much of a view, is it doll?” He observed, his eyes not leaving the grimy glass. I didn’t say anything in return, stood awkwardly and still sniffling slightly, whilst J was on the other side of the large bed to me. We stood silently together for a moment, me watching him, whilst he kept his eyes on the window.

“I’ll pay you double.” J said eventually, repeating the offer from earlier.

“No.” I said, walking over to the wardrobe and pulling out the bag of money. I moved back to my original position and threw it on the bed between us. “You’ll that that back” I negotiated, “and I’ll take the money you’re making off those people from my ‘kidnapping’.”

His eyes snapped to money when it landed on the bed, but they moved to my face. His face was deadly serious and seemed to be surveying my face, running through my demands. He moved slowly and deliberately around the bed until he stood in front of me. “Deal.” He said with a wide grin, holding out a hand for me to shake.

I eyed his pale, muscular hand warily, my eyes lingering on the ink painting his skin. My eyes flicked up to his icy blue ones. “Strictly Business?” I asked firmly, think back to the kiss and his teasing, let alone the eyes that were now piercing mine.

“Strictly business.” Agreed the Joker with a sinister grin. But I trusted him. And I gripped his hand.

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