I know I spammed you all with posts last night when I couldn't sleep (I apologise, i tend to lose my inhibitions a bit late at night) but the whole evening resulted in over 8 pages of notes on fanfictions! (mainly coming up with a plot for plan b(ruce)!) Im really excited for this story now, i just hope i dont now read back over it and realise its all shit 😂
Joker x Reader - Oneshot Request - Plan B(ruce) - Prologue
Ok, so this was a request from the lovely @gemma60 who originally requested the series Plan B(ruce (again, I’m so sorry it’s taking me so long to get back to writing that series, I promise I’ll pick it up as soon as I finish some of the ones I’m currently working on!) The request was:
The reader has a restaurant down the road from Js club . Since j is the ‘king’ of Gotham, how does the reader get away with acquiring her own property ?!?? Especially since it’s close proximity to his club. If it’s not too much trouble Could u possibly make this a one shot (which ever you prefer of course)It doesn’t have to be directly related to the original story either.
So... This is what I came up with - it kind of works as a ‘prologue’ I guess, so that’s what I’ve called it, but you could read it as just a oneshot and I think it would be ok!
I hope it’s at least slightly like what you were after!
Let me know if you want to be tagged in anything!
REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN!
MAIN MASTERLIST
PLAN B(RUCE)
J knew there was a problem the moment it was announced that one of his men required an audience with him. He had begrudgingly agreed to it when informed by Frost that it was regarding the real estate branch of J’s income – an area that had seemed to drop in its profits recently – allowing a brief word with the man, if only for it all to end with one less person he would need to pay.
J, however, didn’t quite realise the type of problem he would be dealing with until the man stepped into his office with a bloodied, dripping nose and a shining black eye.
“Come to a little disagreement?” Joker drawled, leaning back in his chair, bored already. If Smith was just here to sort out a small quarrel this wasn’t worth the effort of listening and J was very conscious of the pistol that sat on the desk in front of him. It would barely take a second to fire it at the waste of space in front of him, then there would be those few glorious minutes where – should J care to – the man could be saved. Of course, Smithy here would make the most of that time, gasping and begging for aid, for mercy, as he proceeded to drown in his own blood. They would be pointless prayers though - J never regretted shooting someone – there was no point making a move if you backed out of it.
After those few minutes, the guy’s mind would darken, his blood would run out, and his heart fail…
“Sir, the woman was crazy!” The Joker’s mind was snapped back to the present, glancing up from the gun to the man who clutched a rather bloodied tissue to his still-dripping nose. It didn’t look broken, but whoever had done it didn’t look like they’d held back much.
The Joker raised an eyebrow at the news that the culprit of the assault was in fact a woman. Maybe this wasn’t as boring as it first sounded.
J was used to other men trying to push their luck with him – often unhappy with the terms he laid out in contracts, and, as J never dealt with this side of his business personally, they often didn’t believe the rumours surrounding him - doubting the existence of the insane criminal clown – thinking they were nothing more than fictional rumours to scare people into their place.
Those people were dealt with sharply, reinforcing the rumours. It would be a few weeks again until anyone felt brave enough to fight back again.
But a woman. That was new.
The fact of the matter was, you didn’t get many women trying to open businesses in Gotham. It was most like largely due to the thuggish, mafia-like, people that you had to deal with when trying to purchase a property or pay rents – people like the man now stood before him. They were often all too willing – almost insistent – on alternative forms of payments.
“What was she interested in?” The Joker growled, sitting more upright, intrigued.
“The ol’ butcher’s place down Cathy street - wanted to open a cute café or somethin’.” Smith muttered, clearly not impressed by the girl’s ideas.
Joker knew better than to trust the man’s words completely – prejudice an ingrained concept in nearly all of his men – but he would at least have the address right. “Get me the lot details.” J ordered, and the man scurried from the room, still dripping blood, only to return shortly with a file in hand. He quickly handed it over to J before stepping back to the centre of the room fidgeting nervously in the presence of his boss.
The Joker ignored him now, opening the file and scanning the details inside. Yes, he vaguely remembered this place. Once used as a front for part of a drug trafficking system, the place had been completely wrecked by the shoot out that took place when a rival gang had targeted it during one of their many scuffles. It would need a lot of investment and renovation to get it up and running as a business again.
J now flicked to the back page where there was a list of interested parties. The first few had dropped out once they got a look at the place and saw the effort and money required the fourth one had been found dead in alley two days after viewing it – nothing to do with J or the property – and the fifth had been found in the adjacent alley the evening after viewing the property and after then having question the contract. That one had been J’s fault.
The sixth, and final, person on the list, was Miss [Y/N] [L/N]. Her current address and contact details were listed under her name, but that was it.
The Joker couldn’t help finding his interest piqued.
He let the folder drop backwards in his hands, peering over it at the bruised man that still waited anxiously to be dismissed, worrying now the Joker had been silent so long. J eyed the man curiously, only making him squirm more. “Tell Uncle J,” He simpered, “why the little girl bloodied you up so nicely…”
“I didn’t do anything, Boss! Honest! The girl’s just mental!” The man exclaimed earnestly. J raised his brows, pouting in exaggerated pity. “Poor boy,” He cooed, “And,” He breathed, “did you do anything in return to the young lady?”
“Nah, sir!” The man shook his head fervently, “She jus’ decked me one, stomped on me foot and then was gone before I could even wipe the blood outta my eyes!”
J listened to this with apparent interest but found it hard to believe that the attack by this woman would have been completely unprovoked. He knew his men were rarely honest in their words or intentions. He usually relied on that when dealing with people, but right now it was getting in the way.
The Joker nodded to Smith’s statement in understanding though, like a judge hearing the pleas. “It seems, Smithy,” He said, punctuating the name by dropping the folder he held on his desk, the papers slapping against the wood. “That you haven’t been entirely useless…” J mused to himself, knowing the other man would be breathing a sigh of relief, “but we’ll let the young lady be the judge of your fate.” He grinned widely.
Smith’s eyes suddenly widened in panic, only confirming what J had early deduced – the man wasn’t guiltless by any means- not if he feared the girl’s verdict. “You’re – uh - gonna find her, sir?”
J grinned and shoed him with a wave of his hands. Smith hesitated, torn between doing what was best – what he was told to do – and wanting to know whether the Joker was really going to talk to the girl - either way his life was likely to depend on it.
J quickly became impatient, watching the man with a bored, heavy lidded gaze. He rolled his eyes and dropped his hand to the pistol on the desk, lifting it and aiming it lazily at Smith, knowing the next reaction well, J’s loud, humourless laugh following the man out as he, did indeed, turn and flee.
The Joker let out a heavy sigh once the man had left, tossing the gun carelessly back onto his desk alongside the papers.
He was getting bored. Something he never like to be.
His eyes glanced down at the papers again. Maybe it was time to introduce a new character to the game.
You headed down the corridor with a certain amount of trepidation, not particularly wanting to see the creep again. You had hoped - clearly rather foolishly – that a punch to the face would be enough to keep the man away.
Maybe he just wanted a matching eye.
You had been pretty proud of that punch, even if it did mean you were now constantly watching your back as you walked the streets, half expecting to end up dead in alleyway as some form of revenge.
You knew who you were dealing with here. The man that had spoken to you was only one tiny part of a limb of an even larger system run by Gotham’s criminals. The problem was, most real estate in this city – especially the half-decent venues - were run by one criminal or another. You chose which ones to deal with depending on your preferences – the Mafia gangs were expensive, but they often welcomed you into their families, offering good protection for you and your businesses. Cobblepot’s contracts weren’t particularly fair – he asked for a large cut – but the lots available were prime, so your profits were bound to be more than reasonable. Two-face’s territory was cheaper, the quality decent, but you had the risk – if you attracted the crime lords attention - of finding your fate being gambled on the toss of a coin.
Every criminal’s territory had its perks and drawbacks – any half-smart businessman would weigh up each and decide on the best option for their business. You had tried, to a certain extent - you couldn’t, by any means, afford the Mafia’s rates, you didn’t like the idea of the constant risk to your life when dealing with Two-Face (and you weren’t about to hold your tongue to prevent it) and you didn’t like the idea of Cobblepot owning more of your business than you did. All of this certainly narrowed down your options on landlords until you finally found a building that fitted your budget and needs.
That’s why you’d view the small old ruined building that fell inside the renowned clown prince of crime’s territory. Yes, it needed a fair amount of work, but you could stretch for the necessary fixtures that were needed to get the place up and running, and after that, you could slowly make further improvements as you could afford them. Aside from that, the rent was ridiculous, and the building was in a good area meaning you should be able to scrape a decent amount of trade. Seemed good enough for you.
Shame that damn man had to go and ruin it.
You now stopped at the office door you had been instructed to go to upon arriving at the warehouse, and you shifted your briefcase to your other hand, freeing your dominant one to knock. You waited a moment, listening for the sound of footsteps, but heard nothing, so, when the door handle suddenly turned, you took a step back in surprise.
The man that appeared around the door, wasn’t the one you had spoken to the day before. This guy was much taller and bulkier, than the weaselly man you had punched, his suit much more expensive. You couldn’t work out his expression, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses despite being inside. The suited man didn’t say anything, simply tilting his head in question. You cleared your throat, “I – uh – I was contacted about a meeting to discuss my application for a lot?” You asked, wondering if somehow you had gotten the wrong room. This wasn’t like what you had dealt with in your last appointment – maybe they had upped security after you attacked the man?
The man studied you through his sunglasses for a moment longer before he finally nodded and stepped back, pulling the door open wider to allow you into the office. You hesitated, frowning at security measures, but stepped into the room anyway.
It was the same office you had originally been in to meet the estate agent, but it was not the same man who now sat behind the desk across from you. Your eyes widen as you recognised the pale skin, the bright green, slicked back, hair and the characteristic grin spread wide across his face at the sight of you. There was no denying it. No one else would have this unique complexion and style. The snivelling man had run straight to his boss himself.
This was the infamous Joker.
Of course. They weren’t going to kill you in any old alley, they were going to kill you right here in this office - less chance of it being picked up by the cops, you supposed. Why hadn’t you thought about this? Why had you been so stupid as to walk back into the place of business where you had recently assaulted one of their staff? These were all criminals after all. You weren’t going to get arrested or sued - they had their own justice system.
The Joker’s eyes flickered over you as stepped over to the desk he sat behind. You stopped a few feet short, keeping your eyes on him, knowing that you weren’t going to win any favours by being a cowering mess or shying away. If you had to die, you would do it with dignity. After all, it wasn’t a meaningless punishment – maybe a bit extreme for merely hitting a guy, but you knew the risks of dealing with people like these.
The Joker’s gaze was intense on yours though, and every self-preservation part of your mind was screaming for you to look away. Instead though, you tried to focus else, properly taking in the man - his flawless pale skin, sharp cheekbones and jaw line, the bright blue of his irises, the dark shadows around his eyes, even the tiny J under his left eye. He was insane, yes, but you couldn’t deny there was something irresistibly attractive about his odd features that - even if you weren’t trying to be brave – would make it hard to look away.
“Vamoose, Frosty.” The Joker finally said, startling you from your thoughts. The Joker didn’t seem to look away from your face, but you now turned to glance back at the man still by the door.
Johnny Frost. The Joker’s right-hand man. You’d heard of him, but, having never seen him, you hadn’t recognised him as the doorman. Now, though, you watched him follow his orders and slip out the office door, closing it behind him to leave you alone with the crime lord.
You glanced anxiously back at the Joker, confused and wondering what happened now. Wasn’t he known for making deaths theatrical? Wouldn’t he want to show off what happens when someone disagrees with him?
So, why then, were you alone here with him now? Was he going to torture you first? Did he want to enjoy that on his own?
“You look like you’re thinking too much, doll.” The Joker now purred with a sly grin, watching the emotions flicker across your face.
“Just wondering what this is all about, sir.” You admitted honestly, turning completely around to face him properly again.
He beamed widely at you. “This, doll, is about me offering you a business deal.”
You made a number of incoherent noises at this, finally stuttering out, “Y-you’re joking? Right?”
“Now what, kitten,” He purred, leaning forward in his seat towards you, “would make you think I was kidding…?” He grinned.
You frowned at him, unamused by the little joke. “Maybe because I practically knocked out one of your guys?” You suggested, raising an eyebrow at him.
He let out a loud, chilling laugh that made you jump. “Don’t tell me he didn’t deserve it, dolly.” He leered wickedly.
You furrowed your brow at the psychopath, thoroughly confused by the whole situation. “So, you’re not angry about it, in anyway?” You asked uncertainly.
“On the contrary, doll,” The Joker sneered, “It gave me a bit of entertainment.”
“So, you didn’t call me in here to kill me?”
He cackled again, “Oh, doll, you are fun.” He smirked. “I think you and I will get along just fine…” You frowned, bewildered by his words, completely understanding now how he had gained the rep of being insane.
The Joker continued to grin at your perplexed face, taking advantage of the moment to slide a folder across the desk towards you. You glanced down at it, recognising it as something similar to what the man had given you when you went to view the last property. This one, however looked slightly thicker and the business ID number stamped on the front was different.
You furrowed your brow at it but stepped forward to take it nonetheless, flicking through the stack of papers inside. The folder contained the details for a property with over 3 times the square footage of the place you had been hoping to apply for. It was also over 3 times the asking price.
You grimaced down at the details, knowing this place was otherwise perfect, then glanced back up at the Joker where he had been watching your face. “I – uh - believe you must have the wrong file, sir.” You muttered, placing the document back on the desk and cautiously pushing it back towards him.
“Oh, I don’t think I did… [Y/N]…” He purred. Your name on his lips sounded foreign to you, but not necessarily in a bad way, and it made your eyes snap back up to his. You squared your shoulders. Enough of this beating around the bush - you wanted to know what game he was playing and when it would backfire in your face.
“Mr Joker,” You began formally with a slight scowl, “I do not know what game you are playing here, but I can assure you I do not wish to be a part of it. It is not that I do not appreciate a game,” You assured him, “but if this is all just an elaborate scheme to punish me for harming one of your men, then I would far rather you do it much straighter to the point - even if it means putting a bullet between my eyes.
“However,” You continued, “If by some ridiculous chance you actually do want to do business with me, then I suggest you tell me straight exactly what it is you want from me.” You stated, your eyes stony and unwavering on him.
A small part of you screamed you’d taken it too far - that you’d spoken out of turn and now you had basically signed your death sentence, but you tried to ignore it, though the longer the silence stretched on between you and the Joker, the louder that little voice got.
The Joker’s face had been coldly blank during your speech and it continued to be so as he now scrutinised you, and you feared he was trying to assess what the consequences of your actions would be.
Eventually he shifted himself more upright, pushing the folder back towards you. “As per your requirements – straight talking.” He agreed seriously, sounding almost professional. “I want you to start your business here.”
You glanced back down at the folder, but didn’t pick it up this time, knowing enough about the lot number to know what he was suggesting was a ridiculous idea. “Whilst the offer, sir – and interest in my proposal – is very kind… I never asked for anything this size,” You said, gesturing down at the papers, “It’s far too big.”
“I think you can handle it.” The Joker drawled with a knowing grin.
“Maybe.” You agreed with a bob of your head - not one to underestimate what you could pull off - “But there is no way I can afford it.” You protested.
“Always looking for new investments, doll…” The Joker growled suggestively, not letting you out of this.
You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “And how much is that going to cost me? 75% of my business? 80%? 90%?!” You demanded, “I’d rather the tiny shack I applied for...” You muttered moodily.
“Ten percent, kitten.” He bargained, and you glanced back up at him in amazement. The Joker simply shrugged at your look. “If I have you pegged right, princess, then that ten percent will soon be bringing me in more money than half of my businesses combined.”
“You have high expectations.” You observed, raising an eyebrow warily.
“I do.” The Joker grinned wickedly at you. “So, you’d better meet them, hadn’t you, doll?”
Tags for everything: @thatwriterizzy @sheldonsherlocktony @jemjem-chan @white-chocolate-mocha-fan
