#jokersenigma

[thejokersenigma]

I’m very good at writing beginnings (just started 3 new pieces of writing), but I just never have any idea where to take the story.... haha -_-

[thejokersenigma]

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

Hi Guys,

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

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

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

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

Anyway, hope you enjoy the first chapter!

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

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

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

Thank you!!!

MASTERLIST

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

Chris was a gift from my boyfriend.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, ma’am.” He croaked at me.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes?” He asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What J?” I demanded, defences up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” I snarled.

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

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

“The one and only…” Grinned J sinisterly.

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

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

“Oh?” I smirked, “And where’s that?”

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

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

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

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

He grinned triumphantly.

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

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

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

tags: @gemma60

[thejokersenigma]

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

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

Prologue (Oneshot Request)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

[thejokersenigma]

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

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader - One Shot Request - No one disrespects the Queen.

Hi guys,

Some I' really excited for this piece of writing because it's my very first request! Thank you to whoever posted this for me to do by the way - I like writing for someone!

This was the request:

Could you perhaps write a oneshot fanfiction with Joker where the reader is badly anorexic? I know it's a touchy subject it's just I personally am struggling with it and feel unlovable. Most people tell me I'm a skeleton and look disgusting. If you are willing too I'd really like to read something like that as I adore your work and reading your fanfics makes me happy. If not it's understandable... Like where J realises she never eats and sees how deathly she looks and tries to help her?

First of all, I was more than happy to write this because I myself have been through anorexia and so I really wanted to cheer this anon up in anyway I could. With that in mind I do apologise if you can't relate to this fic very well, I'm sure everyone who has anorexia goes through things differently, but ive written it the way that I went through by using what I felt and what I experienced.

Other point to make, this is not exactly like what the request asked for as it focuses more on the lack of energy etc. side of it and more of just before help, not the help techniques. If you would like a one shot more on what you asked for feel free to let me know and I'd happily write it but I got caught up in this storyline in my head and didn't want to make it 10,000 words by putting in anymore than what ive done here.

But like i'd said, I'm happy to carry it on if that's something people are interested in.

Sorry about the really long blab above ^^^ I'll get on with the story now.

MASTERLIST

One-shot MASTERLIST

 WARNING: TRIGGERING! Please do not read if anything about anorexia is in anyway way triggering!!!! You have been warned! Pls don't put yourself through pain to read this! xxxxxx

You've been warned!

When I looked at my phone, the clock read nearly 4:30am.

There was a dim light in the room, the summer sun already having risen. I could feel a presence behind me as I lay in bed, and a quick glance over my shoulder confirmed my suspicions – my boyfriend was home.

He hadn’t been 2 hours earlier when - yet again - I had woken up, but now I turned over to watch him, his green hair - usual so neatly styled – dishevelled and fanning out around him on his pillow, his pallor face peaceful, and, though the rings under his eyes still dark, the features on his face were softer somehow.

He was beautiful in his own way, I thought as I admired him lying there. To some people his appearance was terrifying, others found him almost intoxicating. I was one of those. His vibrant red lips, only a short distance away, were addictive and even now I wanted to reach out and trace them. His eyes, hidden though they were in the dark under his eyes lids, were a captivating blue that could pierce into you and I had to stop myself from waking him just to see them.

I didn’t get to do this often. Just be with him. He was always busy doing something, sometimes I wondered if he acknowledged my existence at all or if I was just a convenience, available when he needed me, but otherwise not there.

When we were together I still didn’t feel like we stopped to savour anything, he was always such an urgent person, he didn’t savour many things. So I liked times like this, even is he wasn’t really part of this. I felt like I could step back and just admire him.

As I revelled in his perfectness, I couldn’t help the thoughts now turning to how much I wasn’t perfect. How I was nothing like the man before me. Personality or beauty.

So why was I here?

Why was I the one lying next to him in this huge queen-sized bed in his penthouse?

Was I just a convenience?

I was always waiting for the day he didn’t bring me back here. Or the day he just turned a gun on me. You’d think I’d be scared that this was technically a possibility, but it was weird, I had never felt in danger with him. He clearly trusted me, I thought as I watched his chest rise and fall rhythmically, or else he wouldn’t put himself in such a vulnerable position with me.

But why?

There was nothing about me particularly enticing, nothing to draw someone in – I was a plain girl, untalented, chubby, ungraceful and nothing compared to what he could have.

The minute I once more turned my thoughts down this path, I could feel the invasive thoughts taking other once again, That’s right. The voice said to me, you need to be better. They were right and I was now painfully aware of how many hours I had been lying in the bed. I had to be better.

I rolled back over, sitting up and about to swing my legs over the edge when I felt a strong, muscular arm wrap around my waist and pull me backwards.

My head landed on the Joker’s solid chest and I heard the sleepy mumble close to my ear. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Can’t sleep.” I replied, pulling against his restraint. The voice in my head was louder now. Demanding. I needed to be on my feet now or else I was lazy. Failing.

I pulled against my restraint, almost violently, and J wasn’t expecting it so he released me. I moved back to the end of the bed, immediately pushing myself to my feet. I hugged my arms against myself, instantly freezing when I got out of the warm bed - even in the middle of July. I noticed movement behind me and I turned to see the Joker making a move to get out of bed as well.

“No J.” I told him, leaning over my side of the bed and placing my hand on his chest – immediately the invasive thoughts were back, battling with each. Was this bad? Am I using energy if I’m not supporting my full weight on my legs? But I’m using my arm muscles to keep myself up – so that’s alright – I’m just using different muscles. “You need to sleep.” I said, trying not to show the inner battle inside me.

“And so do you doll.” He retorted grumpily.

“I went to bed early.” I lied, watching him carefully, begging him in my mind to believe me. “J, I’m fine.” I insisted, “Just because I can’t sleep doesn’t me you shouldn’t.” He stared back at me, his eyes clear and penetrating even in the darkness of the room and I was worried he would see through my lie and put up a fight.

He dropped back down onto the bed without a word, turning over so he wasn’t facing me. That hurt a bit, but I was glad he was letting me go. I didn’t hang around, leaving him to get some rest as I walk out the room in silence, grabbing and jumper and then closing the door as quietly as possible behind me.

I wandered from room to room slowly as I pulled my hoody over my head – it was 2 sizes too big for me now.

I didn’t know what to do with myself.

I had all these extra hours now that I didn’t sleep as long, yet nothing to do with them.

I tried to remember what I used to do, but few things appealed to me anymore.

I remembered I used to read a lot, book after book – sometimes finishing a huge novel in a day if I got really into it. Now nothing seemed to hold my attention for long – it was too much effort to get invested in a book and pay attention to it.

I remembered once wanting to write. Now had no imagination, and no will to sit at a computer for hours at a time. Besides I couldn’t now - I would have to stand.

Instead I turned to one of the few activities that I found myself enjoying now – so much so it was what usually got me through the day – watching the cooking channel.

It sounded lame, but for some reason I loved it and found it fascinating. I made my way to the living room, switching on the TV, not surprised when it was already on the right channel (J didn’t watch much TV – he was too busy). And so I watched rerun after rerun of a cooking competition, enthralled in the concoctions and the food porn on the screen.

I didn’t sit on the expensive sofas that graced the high-end flat though, instead I stood, leaning on the back of the chair until I realised maybe I ought not to be leaning – the voice telling me that it wasn’t doing enough –  and I reluctantly pushed myself up so that my leg supported my full weight, my feet already protesting.

No pain, no gain, I thought, shifting my weight from foot to foot to try to relieve the ache a bit. After a while I pulled out my phone and returned to my second favourite pastime – looking at websites for health tips, weight loss tricks and recipes.

I don’t know how long I stood there flicking through tabs and watching Jamie Oliver teach me to roast a Turkey just right (it was a Christmas special on in the middle of July) – probably at least an hour before I couldn’t ignore the pain in my feet anymore and I needed to move.

So I switched to the last thing in my repertoire of hobbies – cooking.

So the rest of the my very early morning was spent cooking up a breakfast for J and any henchman that had to stop by the flat for business.

The oven clock read 8am when I finally allowed myself to have my first meal of the day. (I was ready to eat at 7:56, but it had to be exactly 8 before I allowed myself anything – otherwise the voice told me I’d get too hungry too quickly). I prepped my food – an apple – cut into the thinnest slices I could manage so I felt like I was eating more – and weighed it – 50g = 26 calories. I typed this into my calorie counting app on my phone then proceeded to remove 10g from the scales and threw them into the bin - just to be safe that I wasn’t definitely eating no more than 26 calories.

When I had remeasured the food at least 2 more times to check it was definitely the number I had read I finally allowed myself to sit down on one of the kitchen stools and eat.

I ate away at the thin pieces of fruit, trying my best to eat slowly and make the most of the food, cursing to myself that I couldn’t have waited until later to eat. The problem with getting up early was I had to acknowledge the hunger earlier -  if I managed to sleep later, I could eat later. That then meant that got hungry later and might even be able to skip lunch.

I suddenly felt a shiver wrack through my body even with my oversized jumper and thick pyjamas, and I yearned for a hot drink to warm me up a bit. I could smell the coffee beans that J had from the other side of the room. Even as I considered the temptation of making a cup I was doing the calculations in my head. I couldn’t afford the calories – all 2-9 of them (depending on who you asked) I always counted each cup as 18 calories because that was the highest result I had gotten when I had searched it and I couldn’t risk being wrong.

So instead I stood back up, my feet immediately sore again, and boiled the kettle, pouring myself a mug of hot water. This would do I thought as I sipped at the hot water. It felt wonderful.

My breakfast finished, and still no movement from J, I thought about what to do now. Today was my day off my usual work out – but that didn’t mean it was my day off exercise. I didn’t want to wake J up, but I needed to get out of my pyjamas so I dug around till I found the pile of laundry, clean but not ironed.

I changed in a bathroom down the hall, pulling a fleece over my goosebump riddled arms. I couldn’t believe it was July. Must be global warming or something.

I took the private elevator down to the ground floor and then headed across the large entrance way to the exit. I got a few weird looks on the way out of the building but most of the people around at this time of morning on a Tuesday were business men rushing to meetings and I was too self-conscious to keep much of my gaze higher than the floor immediately in front of me.

I said I would go for a walk. Told myself I would. But I knew I was really going for a run. The good thing about running was – besides the obvious calorie burning – I could run past people before I caught them staring at me.

I started running the minute I stepped onto the pavement. I ran and ran until I couldn’t anymore. Then I would slow to a walk for a few moments before I ran again. I continued this the whole run. I couldn’t run any less than the last time – it always had to be the exact same or more. If it was more – then I would have to meet that next time.

I ran for a good hour. 1:13 to be exact. I did a circuit so I ended up back at the suite.

It was only when I walked back into the pent house, still catching my breath, that I realised the door to the bedroom was open and, when I looked in, the bed was empty. J must have finally got up and probably now working – I wondered if he found the food I’d made him.

I moved to the bathroom, turning on the shower and undressing, having to pause for a moment when I felt a wave of light-headedness wash over me. I sat on the side of the large bath tub, soon letting myself slip off and sink to the tiled floor, my knees folded into my chest and my head in my hands as I tried to breathe evenly, momentarily terrified something bad was happening to me.

I kept breathing myself through it – maybe I’d been overdoing it recently? After a few moments, everything felt fine once more and I pushed myself wearily to my feet – the voice in my head only justifying that I could sit that long thanks to the run I had just done.

Standing upright made me feel woozy again but I persevered anyway, slipping into the shower and moving slowly until I felt a bit better – though it was probably the speed I always moved. Everything I did was now was slow. But everyone had days like that right? When you didn’t have the energy or motivation to move any faster than one slow pace. That was just life – I just happen to do it a lot lately – but was it really slow after all – was I just being silly?

As I stood pondering this I felt cold arms wrap my stomach. I flinched at the contact on an area I felt sensitive about, gasping in surprise, at jumping at the cold touch. “Jeez, doll, this water is boiling.” I spun around to come face to face with the Joker still fully clothed, behind me.

“What are you doing?” I asked in disbelief looking at his shirt which hung open as though he had been in the middle of getting dressed, the water now soaking into the sleeves.

“Trying to see if my little kitten wanted to get hot in a different way then pouring lava on her skin.” He growled teasingly with a wide grin on his face, his hands trailing over my skin and making me goose bump in a non-sexual way. I couldn’t help but shiver against him.

“Ooo doll, do that again.” The Joker purred, pulling me closer so I was pressed against his muscular chest, his cold skin against mine seeming to pull the heat from my body.

“No, J.” I said almost harshly, pushing away from him and stepping back under the powerful shower, hugging my arms to myself and embracing the heat that washed over me.

“Excuse me, doll?” Asked J incredulously, his grin dropping and his eyes becoming dark – like they did when anyone refused him something. But I trusted him to control himself around me.

“I’m sorry J,” I apologised none the less - I didn’t like disappointing him. “I’m just not in the mood.”

He grumbled something indistinctly, his eyes still dangerous, and left in a huff. I was left standing alone in the shower, even colder than before.

  We didn’t really clash for the rest of the day – mostly, I believed, because J did his usual of shutting himself away in the office all day as he carried out his business.

Our relative peace only lasted till that evening however, when J asked invited me to go with him to the club for the evening.

“No thanks, J.” I said, giving my familiar answer as I lounged on the sofa (my first sit down in over 2 hours).

He frowned, his eyes darkening immediately again, not that I noticed – I wasn’t looking at him. He didn’t say anything in reply but he didn’t move either. I had expected him to get his answer and leave – maybe in a huff, but I didn’t have the energy to care. When he didn’t however I turned my head to look at him, frowning at him in question.

“It wasn’t a request this time, doll.” He growled at me in warning.

I was shocked by what he was saying, was he forcing me to go out? “I don’t want to go, J.” I told him calmly, but with a sternness to it.

“I don’t care what you want, doll.” He purred dangerously.

“You can’t force me to go out with you.” I told him, but my voice faltered slightly under his gaze and I knew I could feeling my pulse under my skin. He was starting to scare me.

“Kitten,” He warned, “you’re pushing me and I’m not sure you want to.” There was no smile on his face, his lips a dark red and pressed into a thin line, his eyes looked fierce.

I was frightened now, J hadn’t been like this with me before. Had I pissed him off? I was always worried because of my low mood that I was being moody or annoying to people, but I couldn’t never seem to do anything about.

Now I was stuck in my own mind. I hated that I was letting J down by not wanting to go with him, but I was tired – physically and mentally exhausted. The voice seemed confused too. If I went to the club then I the movement was burning more calories than staying here. But I hated the feeling of exhaustion I got when I was out in public and the fact I would have to make it through the whole night trying to look alive, whilst also coming up with a new reason why I couldn’t have one of the club’s cocktails. J had already asked me several times if I was pregnant. I wasn’t willing to say yes to that to get out of a drink – not yet anyway.

But I hadn’t been to the club in over a month now. J went nearly every night to one or another of his businesses.

I didn’t know what to say to J now. He was still frightening me and I was scared to push him further and unsure what I could say to placate him. All that was running through my head at the moment was the same lame excuses as to why I didn’t want to go – I’m too tired, I don’t even drink, you don’t need me there, it’s not like I’ll do anything but sit and wait for you to finish anyway. I knew J didn’t care about my excuses.

I couldn't meet his eyes anymore, keeping my gaze down. He couldn't stop glaring darkly at me and - if I looked at him now - I was sure I would see the anger darkening his eyes to a stormy blue.

When the silence between us became too much, and I had to look up at him just to try to gage what he was feeling, it was worse than I thought. I was worried what I was seeing was not truly anger, but hurt, as though he was in some sort of pain.

That sight burned me, broke me, and I had to look away, concentrating back onto the thick carpet under my socks, tracing the pattern with my eyes.

“I’m sorry, J” I mumbled at the floor.

“You’re sorry?” He whined, mimicking me cruelly. “You’re sorry?" he asked again. “Your apologies are like cheesy pop songs doll, they just keep playing till people are sick of them!” He sneered.

I didn't know what to say to that - clearly an apology wouldn't be right - so I continued to stare at the floor. It was comfier like this. I liked the fact my neck hung loose, no energy needed to hold it up. I liked the fact I was collapsed on the sofa, all day I wished I could have done it.

“Look at you.” he snarled venomously, gesturing to me as I sat - probably looking like a rejected puppet collapsed against the arm of the sofa and lost amongst the many layers of baggy jumpers and hoodies I wore, "pathetic."

"You’re weak.” He spat, “No spark, no flare, no energy. What is the use of you anymore?" he demanded.

I shook my head at the carpet, each word stabbing and shooting through me like he was firing the weapons I knew were in his pockets. What was the point in me? What was my use anymore? I could feel the tears forming in my eyes and I tried to hold back the tide that now threatened to overwhelm me, covering my face with my hands as if somehow that might help to hold it all back.

“Pathetic.” He snarled again before he spun around and stormed out of the room, leaving me curled into the sofa, no longer able to hold back the emotions. I let out one hiccupping sob and then everything poured out until I was blubbering into the expensive sofa arm.

It wasn’t long before I heard the roar of an engine and the screech of wheel that told me the Joker had left and a new, more intense wave washed over until I was gripping fists of my hair and pulling in misery and frustration.

In a moment of mental clarity, I had a thought.

What was happening to me?

I went to bed early that night, unable to concentrate on anything but on low I was feeling. How nothing was right. How I was starving and wanted food. How I was in pain and hated my workouts, dreaded them every day. How I hated that I hurt people around me – especially J. I didn’t blame him for going off on me, everything he said had been true. I was weak, I was pathetic.

With all these things replaying in my head I slept fitfully that night – never seeming to manage for than 30 minutes before I was awoken by my own mind.

That was why - when the Joker finally returned to the suite at 4am the following morning - I was lying awake. Hungry, thirsty, depressed and stressed, yet too exhausted to anything about any of these things, I just lay staring up at the ceiling in the dark.

When I heard the front door open I knew it would have to be him – security was tight around here, very tight. Not even a henchman was allowed up here if he wasn’t here. None the less I panicked and my every sense focused on his movements through the pent house as I tried to detect when he was getting close to the room.

After a few long agonising minutes, the hallway light was switched on illuminating the outline of the door directly in front of me. I heard the door open and one crack of light enlarged as the bedroom door opened to reveal J’s dark shadow in the doorway. I blinked at the sudden brightness that filled the room.

The silence between us stretched on. I didn’t move and neither did J.

I could have pretended to sleep. Delayed the conversation, maybe even removed the chance to have it.

But I was tired, achy, depressed and starving.

“Help me.” I whimpered into the dark.

I thought the shadow would leave me then. Turn and walk away from the pitiful girl lying on the bed, unable to find anything within her to even sit up. All I do was wait for the shadow to leave the doorway and for the sound of receding footsteps.

But they didn’t.

The shadow moved, but not away. It came into the room, his steps softened by the thick carpet underfoot. I closed my eyes, no longer sure I wanted to do this now.

The next thing I knew I was being scooped up by strong arms and pulling me upright with very little effort until I was cradled in his arms. His chest was hard and cold, but I found it comforting and solid.

“I thought you would have left.” He murmured so quietly I almost couldn’t hear.

I shook my head – hard as it was to do when I was pressed so tightly to his chest.

“The one time, kitten, that the I’m glad you’re not like you use to be.” He said, and I pulled my head up to look him in the eyes, frowning with confusion.

“The old you would never had let me get away with the shit I said to you, doll. You would have up and left whilst preaching about some right you had or something.” He chuckled quietly to himself.  I just cuddled back into his solid chest, showing him in my own silent way that I had no intention to leave. His arms tightened around me even more.

We stayed like that in silence for a while, happy to be in each-others company. It was what I had always wanted between us – for him to slow down for a moment, and I guess I needed to as well. It was a rare kind of sincerity with the Joker.

“I just want to be perfect for you J.” I finally admitted, lifting my head slightly so I could speak.

He didn’t say anything and I wondered if he heard me. I buried once more, embarrassed for confessing something so personal when he didn’t even care to listen.

“You think I would waste my time on someone who wasn’t already perfect?” He asked, and I felt the vibration of his voice through his chest, it comforted me.

I pulled myself away from him again so I could look up at his face, “But your always around all those pretty girls at the club – I’m nothing like them.” I pointed out.

“You don’t think I know that, doll?” He demanded with a frown and I let my head drop – he was annoyed that I wasn’t like them then. “I’m glad you’re not, doll. I’ve been around those sorts of girls for a very long time and none of them have ever come home with me.” He told me, “The first night I saw you I made sure you did.” There was a another pause of silence, both of us lost in our own minds. “That was a long time ago though.” J reminisced, “A time when you looked very different.”

“But why - ?” I pressed, confused by what he was saying – it didn’t make sense to me.

“Because doll, I chose you for more than you’re looks – which I hasten to add are more than adequate!” He said hotly, as though annoyed at my continual denial of this, “And I’ll be sure to correct you when you say otherwise.” He added. “But doll, the first thing I saw with you wasn’t your killer dress or your murderous curves,” He purred teasingly, running his hands up my body as he still held me upright and I squirmed under his touch, uncharacteristically trying to hold back giggles, “it was your personality, your humour, your energy. All of which you are now severely lacking in, kitten.” He pointed out.

At least words any happiness I had built being with him crumbled. “I’m a failure.” I blubbered, feeling myself close to sobbing again.

“You’re not a failure doll,” J said, almost softly, though there was firmness to his voice, “I’m afraid you’re just sane.” He said solemnly, “It’s a terrible disease that grips you – it makes you care too much, it makes you gullible, it makes you greedy for something better and never content to revel in the present.” He rattled off passionately. He switched his arm placement around me so he supported me with only one arm, the other he brought up to my face and tenderly wiped away the tears on my cheeks, “It’s a terrible disease,” He repeated, “It always makes you look for the reason to cry, not to laugh.” He added with a sad smile that I could just make out in the poor lighting.

I gave him a weak smile in return, probably looking a state even in the darkness, and my smile dropped again at the thought. J must have noticed because he moved his hand from my cheek to my chin, tilting my face up so I looked at him in the eye. “That why I’m here though, doll.” He said with a small smile, “I’m the opposite of you, you’re my sanity doll, and I’m your crazy.” He purred lowly, tilting my face more and pulling me up as he leant down and he kissed me.

“I’ll help you.” He promised, “No one disrespects my Queen, especially not the Queen herself.”

tags: @carouselcurls

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x Reader - Deadly Voice Part 47

Hi guys!

Sorry it's taken so long for me to get this out but I had a bit of writer's block on this particular story and I've lost my inspiration and enthusiasm for it a bit (probably because I feel I've lost the Joker's real personality a bit now) - but I was not going to give up on the story - especially as I think there's only 2-3 more parts left of this series now!

So here it is - it took a while and I've just spent the last 3ish hours trying to work out all the kinks so I apologise if it's not the best piece! :S

Enjoy anyway and thank you to everyone who continues to support my writing! You guys mean the world to me!

 MASTERLIST

I woke to an empty bed next to me again. It didn’t surprise me, use to it by now and my head too preoccupied by the events of last night that came rushing back to me. I closed my eyes tightly against the replay, the regret achingly painful.

I had been an idiot. An absolute idiot.

What had I been thinking?! Why didn’t I walk away when I’d seen Penguin? That alone should have triggered enough in me to cause me to run screaming from the room.

Even after that, why hadn’t I left when the Joker had been in a bad mood? When he’d completely ignored me and clearly shown he hadn’t wanted me there with him – any logical person would have taken this as enough and just up and left – why had I stayed?

I guess I knew though. I’d admitted it to myself several times before now.

I liked the damn clown.

And in that moment, when I had seen Penguin sat on that sofa, puffed up like the proud bird he was, that sickening smile on his face, I had been sharply reminded of what I had been through before - that damn contract. And I was suddenly aware that snarling green haired man opposite him had been the one to get me out of it without – it seemed so far –  asking anything in return.

I guess something in my heart went out to him in that moment, contrary to the constant reminder I chanted almost hourly that this man was in fact a villain, a murderer, and a lunatic. Even with that thought still firmly in my mind I couldn’t walk away from him in that moment.

But then I had stepped in it. Whilst trying to break through his sullen mood I had nearly slipped my control on my ‘Bobby’ half, nearly confessing to the rage I still felt at Penguin. I couldn’t help it – that bird-like man had caused my temper flare. I’d hoped that Joker was still ignoring me at that point, but – of course – he’d picked up on it immediately and questioned me over it, causing me to fall back to my old, nervy self, and barely managing to string a sentence together in my embarrassment I refused to admit my lack of control to the Joker - God knows what he’d do with that information.

But - thanks to the abrupt return of my timid, introverted self - I then could not find the bravery within myself to turn down the flow of drinks that followed after that.

And then we’d danced. And then I’d smiled. No. I hadn’t smiled. I had grinned – beamed - even giggled.

I hadn’t giggled since I was a little girl.

Why?!

Pointless question. I knew the answer. It had been the happiest I had felt in a long time.

The cold truth this morning though, was the fact it was probably all a lie.

True, last night I had felt special for a moment - for a silly drunken moment. I had felt like the Joker had actually wanted to dance with me – like he actually wanted to be around me and might have even enjoyed it himself for a moment.

But now I could see that wasn’t possible.

I opened my eyes so that I now stared up at the ceiling, the room already bathed in daylight, only muted slightly by the still-drawn curtains. I had questioned how he would make me smile, but now I knew.

I hadn’t expected him to be so cruel, and angry tears burned in the eyes. But he was - after all - the Joker. He could make anyone believe anything - a master manipulator and player of the game – and I should be angry at myself for thinking anything more of him. How could I have even let myself think for a moment that it might have been true? But, though I could blame him for the waves of shame that now rolled over me as I lay in the bed – as he was the one who had manipulated these feelings in me – it was really my own stupidity that had led me astray – why wouldn’t I think the Joker would sink to such tactics as making me fall for him to win? It wasn’t like the man had morals.

And I knew it was true. I had fallen for him. Properly. Completely. Because, even now when I should hate him with every inch of my body, I could only hate myself. Something in me stopped me from blaming him. Told me it wasn’t his fault. That it wasn’t right to be mad at him.

I let out a long, loud groan, placing my hands over my eyes and scrubbing vigorously at my face before rolling onto my side.

I was ridiculous.

I removed my hands from my face, my vision focusing once more on the empty bed across from me. This too, only brought back the painfully mortifying memory of late last night and I let out another pathetic groan, recalling how I had caved into my urges and actually curled into him – it had been too tempting an offer last night in my drunken naivety  – when I didn’t want the night or that blissful feeling of happiness to end.

Now it was a foolish error on my part and I screwed my eyes tighter against the pain in my chest, causing the hot tears to roll down my face.

I then lay there for a while, my head buried into the pillow as I tried to calm myself a bit. But eventually I knew I couldn’t put it off much longer. I couldn’t deny that the Joker had ‘won’ our bet and I now had to face what happened next – whatever that was.

I must admit I was surprised he hadn’t hung around this morning to gloat at me and claim whatever it was that he wanted. I shifted in the bed so I faced the clock and suddenly realised the time. It was almost midday. I shouldn’t really be surprised thought -that’s what alcohol did to me. I rarely got hungover, but I always slept late the next day and chances were, I’d be a bit light headed for a bit.

I pushed myself so I sat upright in the bed, correct in my previous assumption when I felt my head spin. I hung my head for a moment, trying to steady myself once more. I had options – true - but none of them appealed to me. I could stay here all day – hiding from the inevitable. I could try to run - but he was bound to catch up to me and then the consequences would probably be even worse. Or, I could just face the music and go and find him.

I grimaced at my lap as I let my head hang, the wooziness subsiding. I tried to work through things in my head, searching for any loopholes I could find in the agreement we had made.

Eventually I pushed myself out of bed, getting dressed slowly to prolong the confrontation and buy me time to find a way out of this. However, all too soon I was heading to the block, my spirits low and my heart panicky.

I stopped outside the heavy dark wood door that led to the Joker’s office. In that moment I hated myself. I hated that, though the fate of my own life hung with the man behind the door I still really wanted to see him again, a part of me couldn’t wait to open the door and see that pale face, that slicked back green hair, that signature bloody smile. There was something about him that continued to drag me back, something that made me want to be around him – even when he’d played and hurt me.

I paused, taking a deep breath and steeling myself, before I knocked lightly on the door and, without waiting for a response, pushed the door open before I could talk myself out of it.

I slipped into the room quietly, carefully closing the solid door behind me so it only made a soft thud as it fell back into the frame.

The room was quite dark and I had to wait for my eyes to adjust before I could take in my surroundings. It has hard to make out the colour of the walls as shadows lurked at the sides of the room, but the floor was a plush carpet under my shoes. On the opposite wall to me, heavy-looking curtains covered the large windows, the only light from them coming from a small slit down the middle of the window. The main light source came from a lamp sat on the huge wooden desk directly across the room from me. Behind this desk, the Joker sat in a dark red shirt - the top buttons undone as usual - pouring over numerous papers spread out over the table top.

“Morning, doll.” He greeted, disinterested and not moving his gaze from the papers in front of him. I didn’t say anything, I just stood there questioning every reason I had for being in here. The whole room was intimidating, let alone the man sat before me. I was feeling increasingly embarrassed again.

“Doll?” He inquired at my silence, glancing up from his work with a raised invisible eyebrow. I still didn’t say anything, remaining in place and unable to make eye contact, my gaze focused on the bottom of the desk where it sunk into the thick, golden carpet. At my lack of response, J straightened up, abandoning his work and looking at me properly.

"Clown got your tongue?” He teased, and I finally looked up at him, his eyes intense even across the large distance between us, the jesting not meeting his eyes or his mouth his remained in a frown.

He must have seen something in my eyes – perhaps the hopelessness I felt – because I thought I saw something flicker in his blue eyes when I met their gaze.

“You said it last night.” I spoke finally, stepping into the room a bit further, the waver in my voice giving away the emotions I was trying to keep in check, but I was still determined to not look as weak as I felt. “You won.”

His face lit up with recognition. “You’re right, doll...” He drawled, a lazy smile appearing on his face, “I did.”

He didn’t say anything else, just looked at me, mischief shining in his eyes. I frowned at him, confused. Did he expect me to do something? Was he trying to mess with me even more?

But just like that, he turned back to his work, as though our conversation was over. I didn’t move – was that honestly all he was going to say to me? No explanation or even hint as to what he wanted? What was I supposed to do now?

I took a step forward, trying to subtly get his attention. He didn’t look up, still ignoring me. I cleared my throat slightly, though my nerves stopped me from making it very loud, but in it still felt like it resonated in the silence of the room. Still nothing. I shifted my feet impatiently.

“If you have something to say, doll…” The Joker warned, and I could almost hear the jaw clench in his voice as he spoke down at the papers, still refusing to make eye contact with me.

“Yes.” I declared, startled that I suddenly had his attention, even if that was what I had been trying to do. “I – uh – I want to know what happens now.” I stated, firmly, though the nerves in my voice was all too clear.

“Nothing.” He said, his face hidden from my view as he remained focused on his work.

“Nothing? What do you mean nothing?!” I demanded in surprise, causing him to shoot me a warning look, his eyes dark. I ignored him, “You’ve won!” I cried.

“It’s time then, doll,” He sneered, “To get a high score.”

I just stared blankly at him, “What?”

“That’s the whole point in a game isn’t doll?” He asked mockingly, baring his shining teeth at me, “It’s not just about winning – it’s about who gets the highest score overall.”

I was more than confused now. “Those things are mutually inclusive.” I pointed out, against my better judgement, “And besides, that only works if you’re playing against someone.” I grumbled.

“Are we not playing, doll?” He asked with a raised invisible brow.

“No.” I retorted sharply. “I don’t want to be a part of your messed-up games anymore! I only agreed to this on the off chance I got my life back! Now I’ve blown it all because you –“ I stopped mid-sentence. I could see he was intrigued now, but my mind was elsewhere. I’d suddenly realised something. “You cheated…” I muttered my eyes wide open in sudden realisation.

“Cheated?” repeated the Joker, with theatrical innocence, “You think I cheated, doll?”

“You promised not use sexual advances on me!” I exclaimed, my mind whirling, “And I class last night as a sexual advancement!” I said quickly, clinging to this little idea I had which might get me out of this, “I smiled – sure,” I admitted, “- but you cheated so it doesn’t count!”

The Joker’s eyes darkened, no smile on his face. He rose from his chair and stepped around his desk slowly but purposefully, “I think, doll,” he growled darkly, “that we need to define what a sexual advancement is.” He began to move towards me with lithe, prowl-like movements.

I gulped and everything in me told me to turn tail and run the opposite direction, but I was stuck in place by his eyes again – the danger clear in them, despite the main light now behind him and most of his face in shadow. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” I protested quickly, managing to move a step back.

“No, no.” He tutted, his voice low but smooth, “We don’t want any more confusions, do we? He purred, a slow, sinister smile spreading across his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes.

He was in front of me now, looking down at me hungrily. “Now, doll.” He purred, “Is this a sexual advancement?” He was only about a foot away from me and I could already feel my throat drying up. “I suppose not.” I croaked about, determined to remain in control and steeling against his behaviour, but a part of me was screaming for him to come closer, for it to be like last night.

His hands suddenly grabbed at my hips, “What about this?” He asked, not breaking eye contact with me.

“Definitely.” I said, swallowing when I felt his touch prickle my skin, heat seeping out from his palms and warming my entire body, feeling the redness in my cheeks.

He pulled me sharply, taking me by surprise and unbalancing me so I was forced to step forward, flinging my arms out and catching myself on his chest, my body now pressed up against him.

“Now?” He asked, his face so close he breath brushed against my face.

“Yes.” I croaked out. Trying to ignore the feeling of every inch of his body pressed against mine. I had entered this room hating him and cursing his name for his tricks and games, but now I was being sharply reminded of why I had so easily fallen for him when my defences were down last night.

His hands, still at my hips, began to move so I shifted where I stood, rubbing against him, the feeling causing every inch of me to burn and I had to fight back a moan, my fingers instinctively tightening on his chest so I gripped at his shirt. I could feel the muscles under my hands tense and Joker dipped his head toward mine as he leant towards me and I felt his breath travel across my cheek and down the side of my face, feeling a sharp pain as he nibbled at my earlobe, causing my pulse to pound against my skin.

“And this?” He purred seductively into my ear.

What was he asking again?

“Umhum.” I managed, swallowing thickly. Great I was losing the ability to form words now. It only just occurred to me that I wasn’t breathing and I quickly took a deep breath. He stilled my hips, now running his hands up my body, causing every nerve in my body to tingle. I didn’t move, afraid he might do something if I did, but also afraid he might stop.

He pulled his head back, away from my ear, as his hands travelled to my neck, brushing the sensitive skin forcing me to hold back shivers even as my body burned. His left hand then wrapped around my neck, gripping, but not hard enough to cut off any air to my lungs. His other hand continued to roam, moving to my cheek and running along my face until he reached my lips, the cool, pale fingers, tracing them gently. His eyes were focused solely on his task and I watched him in rapture, unaware of anything else in that moment except his stormy eyes and the rich scent that filled my throat and tasted of smoke and cologne.

I made the most of our close proximity, taking the time to study every inch of his face, my eyes falling on his own lips which were partly slightly where his harsh breaths escaped and cooled my own damp lips. I was suddenly acutely aware that it would only take a slight head tilt from either once of us for our mouths to meet. I was tempted - so tempted.

Suddenly his gaze flickered to mine, the movement catching the corner of my eye and I lifted my gaze to his, knowing from his look that he knew exactly what I was thinking. His eyes flickered back to my mouth and I thought he was going to do it then – to close the gap between the two of us. He inched closer and I closed my eyes, feeling his lips only millimetres from my own.

“I win, doll.” He purred against my lips.

It took a while for the words to perforated my fogged mind but then my eyes shot wide open, every previous sensation in my body plummeting in realisation. I finally dropped my hands from his chest and I tried to pull back, panicked by what he said, but he gripped my throat tighter, holding me fast where I was. What did he mean he won? How? I tried to look anywhere but in his eyes, humiliated once more that not only had he seemed to have outsmarted me, but he’d easily turned me into a weak, fluster fool and I had no alcohol to blame it on this time.

His grip tightened even more and I gasped as my breathing became restricted. I brought my hands up to my neck, grabbing hopelessly at his fingers to try to alleviate the constriction, finally looking up at him.

The minute I made contact with his eyes once again, he released some of the pressure on my neck, though I didn’t drop my hands, just in case.

I watched him, frightened what he’d do next – after all, I was completely at his mercy in this position. But he looked calm, calculating, though I thought I could still see a trace of the hunger in his eyes that showed he had been a little effected by the previous moment between us.

“If I remember correctly, doll.” The Joker sneered down at me, still helpless in his grip. “I asked you to dance…” he drawled. “And you accepted.” I didn’t say anything, wondering where he was going with this, but too concerned that he might snap at any moment and continue to throttle me.

“There was no ‘toying’, doll,” he jeered, “No ‘playing’.” A knowing, malicious grin spread across his face, and he leant forward, closing the distance between us once again, “You wanted it.” He purred seductively, his faces centimetres from mine, “I win.”

I couldn’t think straight. All that ran through my mind was a series of curse words, my mind too panicky to actually think straight. Focus. There had to be a way around this – something to prove he’d somehow cheated.

Nothing. I couldn’t think of anything. I had to face the fact. He hadn’t cheated. He had won fair and square. I had been foolish enough to let my guard down not once, but twice now, and I had to pay for it.

The Joker must have read the defeat in my eyes because he finally released my throat.

As soon as I was released I stepped back, rubbing at the tender skin on my neck where I was sure I’d get a bruise.

The question now was. What did the man who had the power to get anything, want from me?

The Joker was watching me with hard eyes, as I tried to plan multiple scenarios that could now happen and what on earth he could possibly want from me. “You look like you’re thinking too hard, doll.” He teased, but his face was serious.

I hesitated before I spoke, “I – I’m just trying to figure you out.” I admitted.

He let out a sharp bark of laughter, a knowing smirk on his face, “Don’t do that, kitten - too many people have tried already,” He said, “And they end up more insane than me!” He exclaimed wildly, his eyes flashing.

I watched him warily, but I believed him – his mind was not a rabbit hole I wanted to fall down.

He grinned as I conceded to this, turning back to his desk.

“So, what happens now then?” I called to his back in a moment of bravery, my voice raspy from the bruising.

He paused for a moment. “As I said, doll,” He began, sitting himself back down at his desk, facing me, “it’s time to get a high score.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” I asked, impatiently, feeling braver now he was on the opposite side of the room again.

“I’ll see you tonight, doll.” He told me ignoring my last comment, his head already back down and focused on the papers still on his desk.

I scowled at him, about to protest, but I knew that it would be a lost cause and I didn’t want to push my luck - my throat painful enough for one day.

I showed myself out of the office, pausing in the corridor when the door closed behind me.

I honestly had no idea what was going on anymore. Had he won? Yes – that was clear to me now. And yet he wasn’t claiming on the bet? Why not? Was that what was happening tonight?

But then, what did he mean by getting a high score? Was he intending to keep trying to make me smile anyway? But he’d already done that once - what was the point?

I jumped when three henchmen suddenly appeared at the bottom of the staircase in front of me, all three of them covered in a chalky dust and a two of them carrying documents of some sort. They jogged up them remaining steps and I side stepped them quickly before they bowled me over in their attempt to reach the office door. I frowned at them in confusion, wondering what they were up to, but then I thought better – bound to be some sort of criminal act I didn’t want to know about – and I began to move off down the hallway. A gun shot sounded behind me and I spun around facing back down the corridor. Nothing. No movement. It must have come from the Joker’s office. I gulped, thankful I wasn’t in there anymore, before I turned back around and continued along the hallway – certain I didn’t want to get involved.

What on earth was I supposed to do now?

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

[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]

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