#vee.write

[svrssnp]

You Dating the Joker Would Include:

(requested by anon. it’s simple but hope you like it.)

• First off, he wouldn’t have a name for what exactly you two are to each other. You weren’t dating. He wasn’t your boyfriend, and he practically flinched when you said “couple” one day. You are simply his, and that’s the closest it comes to a label.

• While he is possessive, he enjoys when you meet his men. Not necessarily showing you off, but familiarizing you with them. He doesn’t want them looking—Joker’s fully aware of just how long they stare—but he wants them to know you are off limits and to be protected at all costs.

• He shows his soft side once in a blue moon. Sometimes after work, he’ll come home beaten up or exhausted to the bone. It’s then that you two simply lie with one another, your fingers untangling the mess of green hair which always threatens to stain the pillows.

• He remembers dates like the back of his hand. Joker’s good with numbers, so he knows exactly when you two met, or kissed, or moved in together. He will never forget an anniversary.

• Him wanting to know everything you, but that makes it difficult with a job like his with demanding hours. So text him—he basically forces you to—all throughout the day. Where you go, what you do, who you’re with, what times... You were hesitant to do this at first, as you didn’t want to annoy him, but when you weren’t updating him it only irritated him further.

• Joker possesses a wonderful memory, so expect to have every word you say be remembered. Did you casually mumble how you wanted something around him? Expect to have it, even if it’s so insignificant or long ago you forgot, he didn’t. Things lie clothing (or less) that he think he’ll like on you and small jewelry are to be expected.

• He doesn’t explain his actions, or voice his feelings. Understand this. The closest you’ll get to him really telling you how he feels is through haphazard jokes of annoyed remarks, so understand that when he holds his hand out to you or ruffles up your hair in passing, it means a lot more than just the gesture.

• Joker is high-end everything. You’d expected him to live in some abandoned warehouse or facility, but look at how he dresses... That man may live in an abandoned warehouse on the outside, but inside? Underground? It’s five-star interior. Joker practically runs Gotham’s underground economy.

• He has not, nor will ever, say he loves you. He is obsessed with you, is fond of you, craves you—adores, cherishes—any synonym of love he can think of. But Joker doesn’t love anything.

• But even though he doesn’t say the words “I love you,” you still do. Everyday. And although he has never said it back, he will still hold or kiss you tighter at the reminder.

[svrssnp]

Personality/Physical Traits that Arthur/Joker Would Prefer on You:

(requested by anon. thanks for the idea!)

Arthur

Personality Traits

• Comforting. Arthur struggles just to get through the day, so knowing that regardless of what happens, he will come home to you with open arms, means so much to him. Make him dinner, spoon him, cuddle into his side when watching Murray... Touch and talk as much as you can honestly, so he knows that you’re always there and are 1000% real.

• Independent/Able to Take Charge. He has a lot on his mind, and battles with his thoughts daily, so making decisions for not only him, but now you, may put a lot of pressure on him. So he appreciates it when you can make the decisions of what to eat for lunch, what movie to see, or what time to head back home from the comedy club. It reminds him that he’s cared for.

• Creative. Arthur still works on his jokes for a large portion of the evening, and it is his favorite couple activity whenever you decide to join him. He thinks you’re a lot funnier than he is, so when you curl up with him and craft a few punchlines in his joke book, he feels prepared for his show a lot more than just by himself.

Physical Traits

• Large eyes. Your eyes would be Arthur’s favorite physical trait, as he is very perceptive and so learns to read you like a book fast. Whenever he gets home, he prides himself on immediately knowing your mood based on the way the light hits your eyes, and it fills him with so much giddiness to know he can see love in them.

• Loud Laugh. The thing which obviously Arthur is most self-conscious about is his laugh, so to hear you laugh so loudly and unapologetically gives him not only relief, but confidence. This is a man who has to duck down his head when he feels a laugh rising, but seeing you do it so openly makes him feel better.

• Clumsy. Now Arthur may find comfort in knowing you can take control in some situations, but he really, really loves it when you’re clumsy, as not only does it feel good to know you have a silly fault, but also that it gives him opportunities to help you. He catches you or objects you drop, he laughs at the way you trip over nothing.

Joker

Personality Traits

• Innocence. Joker may have done hineous things, but he wouldn’t want his partner to have the same history. While Arthur is long gone, that doesn’t mean that deep down he doesn’t crave the same things Arthur did: a person who hasn’t been touched by the nastiness of the world. You’re his bright light in grimy Gotham, and he will do everything to make sure you stay that way.

• Smart Mouth. While he adores innocence, he doesn’t want someone who is boring. So open your mouth when you have a thought, bite back with him when he deserves it. Joke with him. He has enough people who are either afraid of him or view him as some kind of god, so for you to speak your mind directly is something that reminds him that he is still a person.

• Maleable. Joker may like when you speak your mind, but he still does want to share the basic ideals with you. Don’t worry if you two don’t agree eye-to-eye the first few months of dating, though, as he will constantly try to win you over to his anarchy-loving, rich-hating side the entire time with deep, philosophical tangents.

Physical Traits

• Legs. Joker is a leg man. There is no other body part that he reaches for first when he gets home than your legs, as you jump into his arms to welcome him and he holds you by the thighs. At night, he traces them lazily while you doze off, and when he feels frisky, hickeys will always be left on the inner thigh with bruising. (He begs you to wear heels.)

• Tongue. Expect a lot of French-kissing with Joker. He likes to dominate in bed, and that includes the mouth. Tasting you is one of his favorite activites, and while he will never admit it, whenever you take a gamble and try to fight for dominance in the kiss, he goes wild.

• Neck. You’re his. He’s yours. There’s no more obvious place to mark you up for everyone to see than on the neck, and boy, does he want everyone to see what he does to you. Also, if you’ll let him, he enjoys choking, so to wrap his hand around your neck and see the look in your eyes when he tightens just a bit unleashes a very, very enjoyable night ahead for both of you.

[svrssnp]

Clearing Cuts🔪- Reader x Joker [H.L.]

Summary: Coming back from a frustrating evening, Joker wishes to teach the reader hand-to-hand knife combat. It goes terribly because you always have to be the one thing that never goes according to plan, don’t you? (this one is so long ajdjwkdj apologies??!)

Word Count: ~3,100 (HA)

Rating/Warnings: T / Fighting, light swearing, the like.

“Now, first things first...” he started, rolling his neck to get a kink out with a sigh. “I want you to come at me.”

Joker had just gotten home, make-up smudged and wild, shoes off, and hair even more disastrous than usual, but he had insisted on your first lesson being right now, and you couldn’t just say no.

His hands were bare due to his personal rule never to wear the infamous gloves around you, at least. Those, he had told you once, are for business, not pleasure.

In the moment though, you scoffed at his figure about ten feet away. He slouched more than usual and his lip bled from whatever had happened during the few hours he’d been gone.

“Why don’t we just call it a night and do this tomorrow?” you whined, shifting side to side and looking towards the door. “Come upstairs and clean off.”

“If you’re not over here in ten seconds, I will come to you,” he grunted. His knife gestured for you to come closer. “Come on, come on, come on.”

Having no idea what happened during “work” other than it must have pissed him off extremely, you only nodded your head. He scared you like this—just a little—when he still hadn’t cooled down and came back like a wrecking ball.

“Right,” you mumbled under your breath, definitely not arguing. “But first, take off your coat. I’m not running at you with that death trap on.”

That seemed to lighten his mood, as he smirked and complied. “Very, very good,” he practically purred, slipping his arms out and crumbling it up.

The jacket hit the floor with a heavy thump, and you really had to remind yourself to ask him exactly how many knives were stored in that thing.

Ready to begin your stupid knife training, but still terrified to launch yourself at him when he was so far into his own head, you could only look across at the melting white paint slipping off his face.

He grunted and rolled up his sleeves in impatience. “Alright, enough delaying. I wanna play with you. Don’t you want to play, doll? Wanna learn how to protect yourself against those big, dark monsters in Gotham?”

“No,” you took a few steps forward, knife in front, “but you want me to, so I will.”

“Mm, mm, mm,” he shook his head and smacked his lips together in bemusement. “Not, not want—demand. You can’t be out here in my domain and not know how to wield a weapon, dear,” Joker said, placing so much sarcasm in the pet name.

Your feet moved before you thought about it. One step to the left, one to the right, levelling yourself. Knife in front, protecting yourself. Your conscience turned into his voice instructing or berating your every move.

Looking up, Joker’s eyes scanned everywhere but your face, analyzing every inch of movement.

You saw an opening underneath is collarbone... Is that where you should try? You didn’t know.

But before you could even try to swing the knife, his free hand quickly shot out and grabbed your wrist with an iron grip. He twisted it, and immediately you fell to your knees, knife clattering to the ground.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tsked from above. “What did I say about keeping the knife still? If it’s stagnant, I will get it, and so will anybody else.”

“Yesss, okay, okay,” you hissed as he still held your wrist at an awkward angle. “I’ll keep it moving.”

He nodded, letting your hand go. “Good.”

Having to embarrassingly pick up the stupid knife, you stood once more, keeping both your feet and blade moving.

“Wonderful, dear,” Joker drawled. “You’re such a quick learner...”

Making your first offensive move, you swung your arm around to try to connect with one of his major organs, but missed terribly when he simply shifted to the side and grabbed your upper arm. With a yelp, you were suddenly being lifted upside down as he used the leverage to flip you over his back.

You blinked up at his figure looming over you. His hair obscured most of his face, but you could feel the disappointment and smugness radiating off him.

Throwing a pity party, you shot out complaints. “I am never training with stupid knives again, you know that? Never! Even if you force me to, I won’t! I’m not good at it, and I’m never going to need it anyway!” You crossed your arms, not even bothering to get off the ground. He simply looked down at you, expression unchanged. “Snarl at me all you want. I don’t care how much you get off tormenting me, I am done!”

Silence passed by with you laying on the ground and him above you. With the silence came the terrible feeling of regret, and the idiotic feeling of every word that you’d said.

“Get up,” Joker finally broke. His voice was level, not betraying a hint of anything. “Now,” he said, extending a hand to pull you up.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled so quietly you weren’t even sure he could hear.

And maybe he didn’t, because then the knife was shoved into your hand as if nothing happened.

“Look at me.”

You looked up at him, but didn’t meet his eyes. The last thing you needed was to see the annoyance in them.

“Look at me,” he repeated.

“No.”

He exhaled loudly, clearly trying his best to remain calm as his voice shifted pitches and went comically high to feign politeness. “Please~?”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to.”

At that, Joker lost all composure. His hand wrapped around your chin and tilted it upwards in a death grip. “Well, now you don’t have a choice!”

Your lips squeezed together like a fish as his nose touched yours. “Do you not understand the necessity of this? How real of a possibility someone holding a knife against your throat is?“

“No.”

“Ding ding ding!” he shouted. “You don’t. Because I’m so nice to you, doll! Aah, I could easily make you go out to business with me, attend those awful, boring meetings with mobsters. I could force you to watch what happens to people, what I do to people...” his voice growled. “But. I. Don’t.”

“But I am trying!” you yelled back. He didn’t even blink. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t brought up with years of knife martial arts since the day I was born like you apparently!”

His lips snarled, distorting the scar even more. Joker let you go, pushing away with enough force to knock you down. “Stop being a smartass, and stab me.”

You moved towards him, knife raised high—

And he immediately snatched you up, twisting you around so that your back was pressed up against his chest, and the little dull knife was held up to your throat.

You threw up your hands, clearly agitated to the point where you’d just let him strangle you without protest.

“Now don’t get mad at me just because you’re not as, ah, sharp as you need to be yet,” he said in a mocking tone with the blade still against you.

A faint glimmer of hope shone in your mind as you tried to twist your neck around to look at him, but he held tight. “You agree, then? I’m terrible at this and we should call it a night?”

Joker leaned down slightly to have his breath slide over your neck, getting you on edge again. “No, no, no. Every mistake you make is going to be a learning opportunity. With me, there’s no cutting corners.”

“Only people?”

He nodded approvingly. “Only people.”

Without much thought, you reached up to grab the hilt of his knife. He moved it swiftly though, already expecting it, which resulted in a nasty cut on your palm. You hissed in pain, drawing it back.

“Keep on going!” he insisted, loosening his hold around you ever so slightly to give you some wriggle room.

But instead of continuing, you stopped. Your hand injury wasn’t necessary terrible, but it still hurt, and to continue to flex it only made the pain shoot through the entire forearm.

“Don’t you see I need to wrap this?” you huffed and tried to get yourself out of the grip, but haulted when you felt it was no use. You went limp. “Let me go.”

“Nope!” he yelled, popping the P. Quickly, he shifted position so that his arms wrapped tightly your neck... and squeezed.

“Hey! Stop it! That hurts!” you screamed once you realized your toes barely touched the ground. He had you in a damn head lock.

You didn’t know if it really was him or just simply your nerves, but then you felt your toes raise a smidge more off the ground, throat tightening in disbelief.

“Let me down, damn it, Joker! I said I’m done—I’m done!”

“You are going to learn to fight for yourself!” he practically snarled in reply and that time you actually were raised a few inches off the ground.

Then you panicked. Your hands immediately flew up to his arms around your neck in any attempt to loosen them for some air, but he was too strong. Your head felt like it was on fire suddenly—the flames were getting hotter with each second.

Tears began blurring your vision and you tried screaming but nothing came out. Kicking around did nothing either—you were at too awkward of an angle to hit anything important.

“Five...” his voice rang out, like a kick to the stomach.

Your vision began caving in. Blackness started closing the edges of your sight and you wanted to punch him in the face so damn bad.

“Four...”

His sing-song voice filled the space while you tasted the tears rolling down your face.

“Three...”

In a moment of pure desperation, you snapped your head to the side. His bicep was right there, and his sleeves were rolled up still.

“Twoooo...”

With your sight basically gone, you conjured up all the strength you could and bit. All you could feel was your teeth sinking into flesh and suddenly the hold was gone.

“One—oh, ahhh, now there’s a fighting move! Good girl!”

You expected to fall back down to the floor totally unconscious, but you didn’t. Instead, you simply felt his hands let loose around your neck and wrap around your waist to catch your weight.

Coughs erupted from you as you tried to get the air circulating again while his laughter pierced your ears. Your vision slowly began fading back a few moments later, though your throat and head were still on fire.

You were still crying.

And he was still laughing.

“Get off of me, you bastard!” you yelled half-heartedly in between coughs.

“A terrible suggestion that I’ll ignore or else you’ll collapse totally, and we don’t want that, do we?”

His tone was so much lighter now, like a child getting a toy back. He sounded happy, thrilled, as if you had just made his entire evening.

It infuriated you to no end.

“You choked me! You were going to kill me!”

Joker rolled his eyes. “Pfft, please! We both know that knocking you out is the worst I’d do.”

“I’m flattered,” you muttered sarcastically, wiping the tears from your eyes now.

“As you should be.” Having enough, you turned to face him. “See? Oooh, you look ravishing, dear. Your cheeks are so red!” he giggled, planting a sloppy kiss to your forehead. “And your eyes! Fear makes you beautiful.”

You slapped him as hard as you could.

“Hmhmph... hehaa hoo girl...” he had to repress the pleasure he got out of that one before you slapped him again so hard that you got some of his red paint smeared on your hand.

Upon seeing your furious face, he only raised his eyebrows. “Now I know you can do better than that.”

Your hand connected with his face again, slapping him for a third time hard against the cheek. He kept smiling adoringly. “You are so... so...! Oh, my God!

Joker licked his lips, savoring the tingling sensation from all your feisty little slaps. “Be careful with that one, dear, I’m not a god yet.~”

“If I see you again tonight, I’ll remember how to use that damn knife!” you went to turn out of his arms.

Only your balance was quickly lost and you nearly did face plant the ground before he caught you once more. Those cursed hands wrapping you up so differently this time as he pulled you into him.

He tsked, eyes alit with a glow you’d never seen before. “When are you going to learn to listen to me?”

“Absolutely never.”

He chuckled more, throwing his head back in uncontrollable giggles. Reaching a hand up, he patted you on the head. “Why don’t you get in the bath, hmm?”

You glared, holding up your injury. “My hand...”

His gaze met yours with the same pitying look as he held up his arm with a shining new mark. “And my arm...”

“You deserved it,” you hissed.

“I would hope so! Tell me, how can I earn one of these again, hmm?” You ignored him, but he didn’t seem to care. “So come on, we have to get our battle wounds cleaned, don’t we?”

Then before you knew it, he scooped you up in his arms. You were shocked initially, as your arms flew up to get a solid grip, but then you relaxed just a bit ‘cause it was over now, right? That awful training session was done, and he’d be more, well, gentle now.

So you relaxed, because you needed comfort right now, damn him. You needed him to make you feel better and remind you that you would never see that raging, murderous side. That he was going to protect you against what he just did.

And if being carried bridal-style was all you could get, then that’s what you would take.

You two finally made it up the stairs and he practically broke the bathroom door off its hinges to get you in there. Gracefully, he sat you on the counter by the sink and stayed put between your legs.

“Let me see it,” he said, leaning into you to open up the bloodied palm.

You winced at stretching it out, but held it steady nonetheless. He traced the line of blood beginning to flow down your wrist with a finger, lost in something.

Wordlessly, he turned on the water and ran your hand under. It tingled, but you bit down on your lip to keep quiet. He’d pulled out a bottle of peroxide and looked at you with a pointed expression.

“See? You’re fine. It’ll only leave a scar, if you’re lucky.”

“You want us to match?” you asked curiously, looking down at the cut with blood still threatening to pool out.

“Not face-wise, no. But if your other palm were to accidentally get cut in the future when you I insist once more on teaching you knife-wielding?” A sneaky grin crossed his face. “Well, I wouldn’t pout.”

You’d already accepted the fate of two scarred hands.

The bottle started tilting, and just before the liquid poured out, he asked, “Need to hold onto something?”

“Of course no—JOKER!” you hissed, immediately grabbing him when the peroxide hit the cut. You squeezed hard down on his arm in response to the intense burning.

“Ahhhaha aah, who knew your predilection to always go for the bicep?” he laughed before pouring some on his arm where you’d just squeezed.

“What?” you asked dumbly, but then he turned his arm to show you the wound.

Looking at it more closely now, you gasped at just how deep your teeth had sliced into him. You barely thought he even felt you doing it—that he was just proud of you doing something to escape that he let go—but upon looking at the clear teeth marks and the purple spots surrounding it, your eyes widened.

“Don’t be shocked.” He put down his arm, having absolutely no reaction to the stinging of the peroxide, and rolled his sleeve down. “You know what you did.“

You just avoided the topic. Choosing instead to play with your finger nail. That didn’t slide with Joker though, as his hands slowly rested on your thighs, fingers splayed as he applied some pressure to hold you down.

“You know...” he began, leaning in gently so his lips grazed your ear, “I like knowing you can do this to people, especially—ha—me. I like tapping into your more, ah, chaotic instincts. You’re stunning like that.”

“It’s weird,” you mumbled under your breath. “Like, I hate seeing you hurt. Whenever you come home from fighting Batman, I feel such an urge to fix you up again, but...”

“Go on,” the Joker insisted with a smile as he leaned his forehead against yours. “Finish the sentence.”

“But I don’t mind seeing you hurt with something I did,” you admitted before shutting your eyes in embarrassment.

You could feel his hot breath against your own, holding steady. His hands on your thighs tightened, clenching the fabric underneath, flexing his hands in an attempt to hold back.

But nothing happened. Your voice felt so small.

“Joker?”

His lips came crashing against yours, fingers digging into you to keep you down and centered towards him. It felt wild, the way his teeth clacked against your own and his tongue sought his way in your mouth. You felt dominated completely as he pushed your head backwards to deepen the kiss, one hand winding up to give your hair a neat tug.

You could feel the makeup slather all over your face as his red lips made yours so, and his white nose rubbed off on your own, and as much as you didn’t want to, you had to pull back for breath.

But not him. He didn’t stop, but instead moved down your neck, angling your head this way and that to leave markings from your ears to collarbone. He was frantic, obsessive, and good.

And it felt good, feeling him praise you like this. It was what you needed after that fiasco. But you couldn’t help giggling at how absurd it all was. Never did you picture your relationship going from strangulation to making out in such a short time.

“Now, doll, I’m the one who laughs,” he said seriously, stopping his marking to raise himself to his full height.

“I can’t help it,” you giggled, hysterical. “What did I even say to get you so excited?”

He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of the way as if it was all so unbelievable. His real smile began to show due to the lack of make-up. “‘Cause you’re finally starting to understand.”

“Understand what?”

His ‘job’? Your relationship? Himself?

But Joker didn’t give in, only leaned in, connecting your lips to engulf you whole. “You know I’m not that easy,” he said in between desperate breaths, hands beginning to tangle in your own hair.

[svrssnp]

Tag-Along🃏 - Joker x Reader [H.L.]

Summary: You convince the Joker to bring you along for a small heist operation, yet nothing is ever so easy, is it?

Rating: T / violence, light swearing, death / it’s the joker bby

Word Count: ~3,400 (oof)

Comments: if you wanna be updated for future joker fics, lemme know and i’ll create a tag list. also!! requests are open, so stop in! i have just been so grateful and overwhelmed from such a positive response regarding the first fic, so thank you all :,)

Joker didn’t have rules for you, or him, or anyone. But he did have principles—those trains of thought that wrecked their way into his mind—the little obsessions that he clung to, his own personal philosophy.

One of them, the one that you always heard, was his most serious: never cross business and pleasure.

But Joker had been aggravated as of late.

Coming home early, while you didn’t mind at all, flew up red flags. His private musings were longer than usual, as he hastily hung up phone much more aggressive lately. And every so often, while you were making breakfast or getting ready for bed, he’d come up from behind and rest his head on your shoulder, saying nothing but deeply sighing in discontent—the way a bored toddler would.

While appreciated, the gesture made you nervous. All in all, the Joker was bored, and if he didn’t have a decent enough distraction soon, you worried that his men—or you, even—would pay for it.

Grumbling in the hallway or stomping his feet too loudly accompanied him everywhere in the last few days, so when you’d seen him sitting at the vanity later in the day smearing on the white greasepaint across his forehead, you decided to take a gamble.

“So... what exactly are you doing tonight?” you asked with a knock on the door, looking in the mirror’s reflection to gauge his reaction.

His hand never stopped applying the paint, now reaching up to craft the haphazard black circles around his eyes. “Simple inventory restock. Need a few bazookas—Gotham’s armory should have a few to, ah, borrow.” The words were so nonchalant as he moved his head to see if there were any missing spots.

You walked into the room, innocent as could be. “Sounds a bit boring for you, isn’t it?”

He turned around with a grin, looking like a skeleton with only the white and black—eyes seeped into his skull.

“You’re beginning to know me so well, doll. Now,” he leaned against the vanity and offered up the red tube, “come over here and put a smile on my face, hmm?”

You raised your eyebrows, plucking the tube from his hand as you performed the little intimacy between the two of you. His lips puckered up mockingly as you traced them.

As you carved out the red smile, you couldn’t help but mimic it. Touching his scars had seemed so daunting of a task at first, but now... it was nice of him, you guessed, to allow one vulnerable aspect to show.

Joker seemed to enjoy the moment also, slowly closing his eyes at the familiarity, leaning his head back in relaxation.

He looked content. Almost.

The good atmosphere gave you the courage you needed. Clutching the lipstick a tad bit harder than necessary, you let slip, “Why don’t you bring me along, then?”

Immediately, his brows furrowed in confusion, and an eye popped open to look at you. “What are you talking about?”

“I mean,” you hesitated, taking a shaky breath while your hand curled to form the wide smile, “you’ve been restless lately... Something has obviously been bothering you! So I just thought—“

“No, no, no, no, no,” he shook his head and grabbed your wrist in hand, halting you. “Tell me, doll, have you been planning out this argument in your head all day, or did you just think up this terrible question now?”

“All day,” you said, pulling your hand away roughly, but Joker held tight, unyielding. “Because you’ve been so obviously upset all week.”

“And explain to me—no, really, go on,” he hissed, lunging down, “how you accompanying me to a heist would fix this?”

You huffed, throwing the lipstick down. “God forbid I try to cheer you up with something different.”

His other hand looped around your waist, pulling you in between his legs as he held you between them, then taking both his hands to grab your face, he pulled you close, as if your heads closer would transfer his exact thoughts.

“I do forbid it,” he whispered, lips almost touching your own, “and you know perfectly well why. I like you here, safe and untouchable—from all except me, of course—because you risking your neck is a liability, and I protect what’s mine.”

“Liar,” you said quickly, as you started going cross-eyed by looking him directly in the eyes so closely. “You let your men die all the time.”

He tsked, disregarding them quickly. “They aren’t, they’re aren’t mine. They’re their own mistakes. And I don’t clean up mistakes, I just direct them.”

“Oh, so what? I’m pure to you?”

“The purest,” Joker mumbled, voice growing dangerously deep as he leaned in to finally connect you two.

It was a shock—both physically and mentally. Every interaction with him was mental gymnastics. Every kiss was like an electric charge. It exhausted you, excited you.

You reached a hand up then to deepen the kiss, but that had been his queue to stop.

“Ah, ah, ah, don’t get so hot on me when I have to leave,” he said, leaning away with a smack of his lips.

“But—“

“Hush,” Joker insisted, redirecting your head to press against his chest in an attempt to keep you quiet. His one hand looped around to pat your hair down. “I only want you to understand my point of view. Business and pleasure don’t mix.”

“But you said the business was simple!” you retorted, lifting your head up. “And you haven’t been very pleasant lately!”

“Doll, I am fine. In fact,” he licked his lips, already cracking the paint, “a smile never leaves my face!”

You didn’t think it possible, but when he smiled he managed to look even more unhappy.

“This isn’t just about you, you know... Maybe I want to accompany you because I’d like to,” you said, trying an entirely different approach to hopefully speak to his ego. “Maybe I’d like to see the your working side—the side that everyone else sees.”

At that, Joker grinned, already playing out all the fantasies in his mind. A laugh sounded from him until he waved a finger at you. “Hmph, you’re trying. You’re tempting me.”

“Come on,” you whined. “I know heists aren’t anything new for you—they’re boring!—but maybe with me it will be?”

You were grasping at straws, but you could see him cracking. A final push was all that was needed.

“Let’s say you go,” Joker pushed away, leaving you behind at the vanity while he threw on his dusty trench coat over top. “What will happen? You distract me in front of the men? You trip over a live wire? What?”

You started at him blankly while he began fitting on his gloves with a hard slap of the skin.

“Because the way I see it—the right way—is that you’ll distract me, get me going, make me...” he rolled his eyes at the thought of even saying the word, “emotional.”

And with that case of his, all your arguments flew out the window. Your mind struggled to come up with something that might appeal to him.

“Don’t you... um, want?” you cleared your throat, knowing this was a long shot. “To, well, show me off?“

“And have their eyes have the fortune of seeing you?” he purred, opening up the door to leave. “Never.”

“What if—“ you were going to argue, going to call him a name or throw a tantrum, but the more you thought, it just wasn’t worth it. The original goal was to make him feel better, after all, not worse. So you cut yourself off, arms falling to your side in defeat. “Fine.”

“You’re not going,” Joker said pointedly as he straightened his tie. “I’ll be back in a few hours where you will be asleep and not waiting up for me. Do you understand?”

You bit down on your tongue to prevent anything other than “Yes” to slip out.

“Good,” Joker replied, ruffling his hair up last-minute while he glanced at himself in a mirror. “You surprised us all and proven you can follow orders given—that’s important,” he mocked.

“Whatever,” you grumbled, turning your back to go get a shower. “Have fun stealing your bazookas.”

“Thank you, my dear,” he said, mimicking that of an old 1950s sitcom husband. “Oh, and one more thing?” You were about to leave the room, but stopped. “Get your shoes on—I’ve decided you’re coming along and that’s an order.”

Your mouth dropped, and frantically you slipped on a pair of shoes before you followed his laugh out the door.

——————————

To your surprise, you kept silent the entire drive. Joker proved himself to be a truly terrible driver—speeding in all the wrong places and swerving when completely unnecessary—but you had a feeling he was only showing off his failed skills to scare you.

Even he seemed impressed when the van finally parked outside in an alley two blocks down and not a word was uttered.

Without warning, he got out, flinging open the back van doors to get some bags. After throwing two over his shoulder, he tossed something at you.

“A mask?” your nose scrunched up at the painted clown face staring up at you. It was all chipped off too, as if someone else had worn it.

Joker threw you a look, grabbing various guns and dropping them into multiple pockets. “Put it on. Last thing I need is for your face to be dripping in greasepaint too.”

“Would I be able to get a fancy alter-ego then?” you laughed as you slipped it on and began to match his stride down the alley. “Though not a clown. Definitely not. I like you and all, but the idea of couple crime costumes is—hmph!”

His hand flew against your mouth, arms caging around you and throwing both of you towards the brick wall. Your eyes widened, but you didn’t necessarily feel him tense up. Joker was just on guard.

“Now,” he hissed in your ear, and you could feel the heat of his breath against your cheak, “there is a camera right around there,” he waved in a general direction ahead. “I am going to dismantle it and you,” he squeezed tighter, “are going to keep quiet and follow dutifully behind. Alright?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he didn’t let go. “Mm, mm, mm, no words! Nod.”

After nodding yes, he let go, stalking forward with a pistol in one hand and a bouncy step in his foot.

His eyes scanned the area around you two, and he must have found what he was looking for because quickly, he raised the pistol and shot, shattering some little black orb on the side of the building.

“And there goes... our... audience,” he hummed, arm hanging back down to his side.

“How did you even see that?” you muffled against the mask, eyes squinting to find what he apparently had.

“With my two eyes, doll, with my two eyes,” he muttered, slipping the gun back in his pocket. “Now, climb that ladder instead of stalking me.”

“Admiring. Observing,” you insisted. “And... why me first? There could be someone at the top waiting.”

“There could be,” he conceded, but didn’t shy away from placing your hand on the first rung, “and if there is, that’d certainly mean that they’d learn from their mistakes. But,” he clicked his tongue, “they’re not as smart as that.”

You sighed, “It’d make me feel better if you had your gun out... all the same.”

“How can I say no to that?” Joker smiled, pulling out a short shotgun and resting it over his shoulder. “Now scat.”

He poked you in the back with the nose of the gun, and with a grumble you began climbing.

The building wasn’t too tall—only a few stories high —but the wind nipped with it being so late in the night, and you kept having to push the too-big mask back on your face.

Before you climbed the last few rungs to look over, you hesitated, knuckles turning white from your cold grip.

You looked down at Joker. A toothy smile with crinkling eyes meet you while he lazily held on with a hand, rocking back ‘n forth on his heels. Hair and jacket billowing in the air, he didn’t look the least bit worried.

“Promise me there’s no one up here waiting for us?” you whispered.

“Cross my heart and hope to die~” he sang, gun swinging in his hand, “though, that’s how I always am.”

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, your hands grabbed the rooftop, hoisting yourself up to throw a leg over, and—

He was right, of course.

Feeling like a baby once he made it up also, Joker couldn’t not take the opportunity to tease.

“No one here. See?” he said, ruffling your hair obnoxiously. “Perhaps you’ve been spending too much time with me. You’re starting to get a little, ah, dramatic.”

“It’s not funny,” you muttered as he shot the door lock off with a silencer.

“Relax, doll. Aren’t you here to entertain me on this bring-your-kid-to-work day experience?” he clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Bad manners...”

“I’m a kid?” you scoffed, following him down the stairwell the door opened to. “I think not enough people know the truth.”

“Of?”

“Just how young you look underneath all that war paint. We almost look like a proper couple.”

Joker stopped immediately, holding out his hand to throw you a nasty look. “Talk like that again and we won’t be anything for much longer.”

Repressing a smile, you held up a hand to show him zipping your lips shut and throwing away the key. That seemed to appease him as you both continued on.

Though the further down you got, the more serious he seemed to become. Joker took greater care with his steps and turned back every few seconds to assure that you were doing the same. Several flights later, and the two of you exited the stairwell, working your way into a hallway. After a confusing amount of turns, you found yourself at a foyer with an opening looking down to the main floor of the building.

Two guards were down there, as far as you could tell, at least. One posted at the door, and another sat behind the main desk. Either way, their backs were turned from each other and they seemed like easy targets from an objective point of view.

Except that they had automatics strapped against their back.

Joker looked at them uncaring, as if he were a god looking down on mere mortals.

“I wouldn’t have thought you’d be this quiet,” you whispered after a few seconds of silence and him patting down his pockets to find something.

“I’m usually not,” he said with a hint of a whine in his voice. “If I were with my men, we’d have just gone through the front door—play a game of shoot out. But with you, I thought it best that we be the only ones in attendance.”

“That’s considerate,” and you had to hold back a laugh at his look of disgust. “Though we aren’t the only ones. There’s also these two guards.”

At that, Joker found what he was looking for and pulled out yet another gun, flipping a lock and pulling the trigger before you even had a chance to comprehend what was happening.

“One,” he corrected, as the guard sitting behind the desk slumped back in his chair, Joker’s bullet firing right through his head silently. You gasped, but Joker just had a bemused look on his face. “Learn to count.”

Your mouth fell open upon seeing the man lie completely still, a faint trail of red running down his white shirt. Joker grabbed your arm, leading you around the foyer to a new angle where you could both better see the other guard by the door. He was totally calm.

“I know, I know,” Joker said upon seeing your shocked state. “Shooting people’s the dull way, and all work and no play makes me a dull boy, but we’re not here for a thrill. Just goods.”

You shook your head, not quite expecting everything to move so quickly. “Can I ask a question?”

“My face is an open book.”

You reached out your hand to him, needing something to hold onto with all the terrifying possibilities of what exactly could happen tonight racing in your mind. “Were you ever like me, at one point?” you whispered, feeling so much dread pool in your stomach. “Did you ever feel like I do right now?”

“Look at me,” Joker kneeled down to be eye-level with you. A gloved hand came up to lay against your cheek as he hummed, licking his lips once. “How do you feel?”

Your eyes flicked down to the dead man. “Guilty.”

“At me, not him,” and he turned your head to his. “Life is, ah, subjective. The codes that people live by—they made them, doll. Not anything else. So the definitions of good and bad?” His fist tightened before flexing, showing an empty hand. “They vanish.”

“Joker, I know this already,” you murmured, pulling your cheek away. “You’ve said this all before. There’s just a difference between hearing and actually seeing it.”

He frowned at you, and you tried your best not to feel bad at how frustrated he was, fists coiling up once more. “Look, look there,” he spit harshly, pointing a finger at the guard standing by the door. “That man right there, with the automatic strapped to his back. Would you kill him?”

“Joker...”

“If I asked you to, would you do it?”

You looked over the balcony, mouth set in a frown to see how young and healthy the guy looked. “He seems like a nice family guy,” was all you said.

But Joker didn’t care, snapping his fingers. “Yes or no?”

“Yes, alright?” you hissed at him, stalking away from the balcony. “What kind of question is that? If it was between you and him shooting at each other or something, then obviously I’d try to save you.”

“But would you kill him?” Joker pressed on, following you regardless of the glared you fixed him with. His eyes looked darker than usual, pupils blown wide. He circled you, looking up and down. “Because I’d kill them all—you know that. That family man that you feel bad about? If he even so much as glanced—BANG!“

“You’d do that on any day.”

Joker made a noise, pinching the back of your neck to make you jump into him. His eyes narrowed in on your scared form, holding an amused expression. Slowly, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead, releasing with a loud pop of the lips. An apology.

“Stay here then, doll. I’ll finish off our, ah, family man,” he cleared his throat and only smiled at your sad face, “then grab what we came for.”

Then he was walking away, opening the door to the stairwell and ready to slip out until you stopped him.

“You’ll be right back?”

“Ten minutes,” he announced, crossing his fingers in a promise and holding them up for you to see before he kicked shut the door and left you alone. “Ten minutes.”

So you waited, a chill seeping its way down your spine at the silence around you. The feeling of being watched threatened all comfort that you had when Joker was around, and it eventually got to the point where you almost dared to get up and pace. You couldn’t sit still.

After a few minutes, you took a deep breath and peaked over the balcony. Sure enough, family man was dead, laying on his stomach.

More minutes passed, and although you didn’t get the exact count right, you knew it had to be longer than ten minutes by now. Yes, your nerves were jumpy, and even then short minutes felt like an hour, but you just knew.

But you sat still, because you also knew that he’d be back, and the last thing you needed was to take one false step and set off anything.

Until you heard a gunshot. Heard it. You never heard Joker. He didn’t work like that.

Again, you waited for a few seconds to see if any sound followed, but it was silent.

So you ran, struggling to carry yourself with shaky legs. Your hand clutched the gun as you trudged down stories of stairs trying to find any indication of where he might be, but there was none.

You made your way down to the main floor, trying your best to avoid the sight of the two dead men. Finally, as you roamed, you found another set of stairs leading downward. The door was hanging open, so you walked slowly, gun out in front. You barely knew how to use it, but you figured the last thing Joker would do is have the safety lock on.

So you’d just have to point and pull, right?

You crept, winding your way to the basement component. Here, the lights were neon bright, illuminating everything in a sick glow reminding you of a hospital. You felt light-headed suddenly, wondering where Joker had gone.

Your sights narrowed in to another room, one looking like an entrance to a safe due to all of the fancy gadgets surrounding it.

God, you just wanted to run, to get in the van and keep driving. It was probably best to leave Gotham all together.

But he could be hurt. What if he was hurt?

Much less suave than you would have liked, you crept into the safe. You saw another dead man. It looked like he was stabbed in the neck also, as his one hand, now frozen, was on his throat, as if trying to do the bleeding.

You glanced down at his other hand and saw a gun lying right next to it, his finger still practically on the trigger.

It happened in slow-motion—seeing him. All the events seemed to stall in your brain, struggling to make sense of what you saw. You only turned your head a quarter of the way when you saw another crumbled body on the ground.

And there lie Joker.

Red painted the floor around him, blood going this way and that. The bags, filled with those stupid, stupid bazookas, were right next to them near his forgotten trench coat, revealing all the knives he’d loved like children.

His eyes were shut—thank God—because you’d scream if you had to see his eyes like... that, devoid of everything.

Everything of him was gone.

Your mind went into a frenzy, running after him. But it wasn’t fast enough, nothing you did was enough now.

His name spilled from your lips a thousand times as you kneeled down, hands going to his hair, his face, his arms, and tie—anything to anchor him to you. You shook his frantically, begging him to get up, to have any consciousness left. But all that did was cause even more of his poorly dyed green hair to fall in the red puddle coming out from him.

“Joker...” you gasped, bringing you head down to rest on his chest, straining to hear a heartbeat.

Nothing.

“Joker, please. Please, please, please...” Cries escaped your lips as you looked down upon him. His lips were parted, and you had to hold back a sob at how broken he looked. The scars stretched his face so unnaturally then, making his corpse look inhuman.

He looked like a monster, laying in blood with knives and scars surrounding him.

“This is all my fault,” you choked out, giving into gravity and falling into him completely. Burying your face into his dress shirt, you breathed in the awful smokey scent that always accompanied his suits. That you’d always complained about. “I shouldn’t have been here... You shouldn’t be here! We should be home! We should be... be...

“We should have done more. Should have left this stupid, stupid city. You—you weren’t supposed to die here, damn it! DAMN IT, JOKER, COME BACK!” Your hands started shaking, and you had to pull away at how angry you felt, how... how beaten down.

But you couldn’t move far. Those hands had always managed to find a way to pull you in. That face had always managed to convince you to stay. That voice...

“This can’t be the end. It can’t. You can’t die like this—like, like some person.” Then suddenly your hands were in his hair, wiping it away from his forehead to view him again, to remember those smile lines and forehead wrinkles.

Panic started to rise once you thought of what to do next. You couldn’t carry him to the van, and even if you did, what then? Did you contact his men, telling them what happened? Did you leave him here?

But you didn’t want to give up, to walk away from everything he’d shown you. He wouldn’t leave.

“You’re better than them. You said you were. And I thought so too… so don’t die like them.”

Leaning down, you pressed your lips to his forehead—so painfully similar like he’d done to you only twenty minutes before—and had to hold back yet another sob.

“Say it’s just a bad joke,” you whispered into his hairline, not daring to open your eyes to face the truth once again. “Say it.”

Until a voice filled with so much offense replied back, sending a bolt of electricity through your being, sending feeling back into you.

“I’ve never told a bad joke in my life, doll.”

That deep and perfect and raspy and infuriating voice.

“Wha—JOKER! Joker, oh my god. Oh my god!” you screamed, tears flowing even more at the whirlwind of emotion.

He chuckled then, throwing his head to the side while pure, unadulterated glee filled his eyes. Immediately, you threw your arms around his neck, crawling into his lap with such urgency that he barely made it sitting up.

“Ooh, doll, calm down,” he teased, finally getting the laughs under control enough to examine you. “I’ve only been gone, ah, twenty minutes at most, and you’ve been crying all this time?”

“You asshole!” you yelled, slapping him in the arm that he’d wrapped around you. But you still leaned in, never daring to leave. “You absolute bastard—I thought, I really thought that you’d—“

But you couldn’t even get the words out without collapsing against him in tears again and again.

“Shhh, shhh, shhhhh,” he murmured, resting his chin atop your head. “You were right in your cute little euology—I am better than that.”

He giggled once more, and you couldn’t help but smile a little upon feeling the rumble of his chest. It was moving again. It was alive, and you felt yourself beginning to grow hysterical.

“You weren’t breathing.”

“Yeah?” he replied in a tone so obvious that it threatened your sanity.

You sat up in his lap, still never letting his tie go, but enough to get a look at him.

“You were... you were dead, Joker.”

“Mmm, no. Death doesn’t have as many possibilities as this.”

Suddenly, he surged forward, tongue immediately finding its way into your mouth as you moaned deeply into the kiss. He growled, bending you in half as he sat up more also, squishing you fully in his lap.

It was so backwards—everything that he did to you. Tears were still wet on your face, but you couldn’t stop giving in to him. You thought you’d lost him, for God’s sake.

“I—I can’t believe you did that to me,” you said, barely even knowing what to say as you broke for air and stuffed your face into his shoulder.

“Please... It wasn’t even that bad. I debated on making it much gorier,” he said so casually, still finding the situation amusing. “Did you really expect to go on a field trip with me and not have any, ha, education?”

Your head shook, commonly disagreeing with him. “You’re terrible. You’re terrible and I’m never coming with you again in my entire life if you act like this.”

“I warned you,~” he lulled you back into false security. And you suddenly felt nauseous understanding that this was probably his thought process for letting you come in the first place. It was all meant to terrify you, to scare.

And it worked.

“Just take me home,” you sniffed in his shoulder, and tried your best to maintain dignity and eye contact at the same time. “Please.”

Joker reached up, wiping a tear from your eye. His bottom lip was puckered out, mimicking your pouting. “Doll, I’d want nothing more.”

And with that, he stood, pulling you up alongside him while he collected his jacket and bags. You felt like a child, but insisted on holding his hand the entire way up the steps of that basement, and probably all the way home too.

“Oh, heh, actually, almost forgot.” He stopped once the two of you reached the main floor, and reached into your pocket to take out a playing card.

It was a simple black and white Joker, complete with two Js on each corner.

“When did you put that in my pocket?” you asked as he pulled out a red marker, doodling something on the glass before pocketing it.

He simply shrugged, licking the back of the card before sticking it to the front door of the building. For a finishing touch, he took the mask you’d been wearing and hung it right above.

“Tricks of the trade.”

[svrssnp]

where can we read your fics?

everything i write involving joker will be under the tag “vee.write” :)))))