#I don’t even LIKE harley quinn and the joker

[gh0stly-pages]

Out of Our Minds (Part 5)

Ledger!Joker x Harley Quinn-esque f!reader (18+)

CW: violence by gunfire and gas, implied deaths/fatal injuries

Words: 5.8k

Chapter Summary: After a long night of plans, you're ready to break your patient out of Arkham Asylum

Notes: Welcome back! sorry for the long wait, life has been pretty busy but here's the next part! Things are really cooking up in this one. Just wanna preface that in this series you are NOT a good guy, you're turning into a villain like Joker, so there will be lots of violence and so if you're uncomfortable with that stuff I advise you not to keep reading! I won't be getting graphic though (and I really hope that I don't have to be the one to remind you that in real life, murder bad) Also this whole chapter includes a plot for breaking out of Arkham that is very farfetched but we're gonna pretend like it makes sense, okay? okay. Enjoy!

Arkham is cloaked in shadows.

The patients are forced into these shadows, pushed there by people desperate to remain in the light. They want to be the light. To show themselves as all things good and pure. They walk around with their chins held high and their shoulders back, clucking like birds. They are bright. Intelligent. Classy. Or so they want to be seen as. What lurks beneath is all darkness.

These people avoided the shadows, and thank goodness for that.

As you lurked in the shadows, preparing for the madness to come, you couldn’t help but smile.

_________________________________________

Your heart is pounding as you approach the two guards outside of Joker’s cell. You’ve managed to move his session to be the last one of the day, and the anticipation has been killing you.

You don’t know how you got here. You don’t mean literally, you know how you got there, walking with shaking legs through security, scared that somehow they would see it in your face. That you were hiding something. They didn’t even question you, waving you along while looking bored. After that, you realized they couldn’t read you at all. They simply didn’t care. So now, you hold yourself with confidence, hoping everything goes just the way you planned.

But getting here, being Joker’s accomplice, that you were still figuring out.

“Hello boys,” you say to the guards, even though they’ve seen you enough times to know the drill. They hand you the little remote, enter the code, and the door unlocks. Not a single word exchanged. You give them your best bitchy smile before walking through the doors. “Thanks.”

There Joker is, his face paint still intact, though smudged. You let out a deep sigh of relief, and while the door closes behind you, you take your seat, not exactly sure where to start. “Mr. J,” is all you can manage to get out.

Joker leans forward, dark eyes glinting. “Yes, sweets?”

You take a deep breath. “Are you ready to break out of Arkham?”

The smile on his face is like none other you’ve ever seen from him. It’s giddy, it’s dangerous, it’s thrilling. God, you love it. “Doll, that, ah, might just be one of the best things I’ve ever heard you say.”

It took you all night to think up a plan, with the little time you had. You knew you had to take advantage of just how little people cared for you, finally it was serving as a positive. You’d racked your brain, setting up a giant piece of paper on your wall and drawing out the layout of Arkham. You’d marked where the guards would be, how they’d move, the security cameras and alarms scattered around the building. It had all looked like a mess at first. A puzzle you wouldn’t be able to put together. Yet the more you thought about it, the more you realized you were thinking too much about how to perfectly escape and not how to rely on your own strengths. Not only could you fly under the radar, but you were light on your feet, had learned a few tips from Joker on weaponry, and the only people who (mostly) respected you in Arkham were your patients. 

You’d not gotten any sleep but it was worth it as you pieced everything together. The main part of your plan did not necessarily involve high level theatrics like J, but Arkham was in for one hell of a ride.

Reaching up into your hair, you pull out a hair pin, reaching over and grabbing Joker’s wrist. “Here’s what we’re gonna do,” you say, starting on attempting to unlock the cuffs. Joker’s lesson was somehow still fresh in your mind but it wasn’t an easy task. “I’m going to press the button on my remote that will alert the two guards outside the door to come in. We’ll be standing on either side of the door, and we’ll need to take them both out.” To your surprise, the handcuffs unlock with a small click, and you beam as the cuffs fall away. 

Joker lifts his hand, moving his wrist, which is partially bruised from the cuffs. “And what about the other layers of security?”

“There’s two layers of security. That was the tricky part, but I’ve talked to a few of my patients and they’ve agreed to… start a ruckus as a distraction. As long as most guards are occupied with the patients, the ones out there won’t have backup. We can knock them out easily.”

He smacks his mouth. “It all sounds too easy.”

You move to his other wrist, pushing the hair pin into the cuff. “I know, but it’s not gonna be easy. Things are going to go wrong but we’ve gotta try.” Again, with a bit of a struggle, the cuffs pull open with a satisfying click. You look down at his ankles, grateful that it seems he hasn’t been cuffed there. “You’re free.”

He stands up, stretching himself out, and you watch with earnestness as he groans and cracks his knuckles. “Not just yet, dolly. Got that remote handy?”

You grab the remote from your purse before tossing the purse to the side. You won’t be needing that anymore. “Got it.” As you stare down at the remote, everything hits you way too fast, like a mallet to the chest. Your breathing falters, your heartbeat speeding up with a rapid bump bump bump-. It’s not that you’re scared, not necessarily, but you’re scared that you’ll fail both you and Joker. You’re not J. You don’t know how to do this shit. “I…”

Everything goes blurry and it takes you a second to realize Joker has moved in front of you. He places his hands on your shoulders, bending slightly to look you right in the eye. “You’ve got a sharp mind, dolly. I, ah, know you wouldn’t fail,” he says, an odd reassurance but it works, and you can feel your breathing go a bit steadier. Then you realize how close the Joker is. He’s touching you, no cuffs, no table between you, no barriers. He’s right in front of you, all of him. “We’re getting out of here.”

“Right,” you mumble, straightening yourself. Much to your disappointment, he drops his hands from you, moving towards the door. You suppose it’s now or never. With a shaky breath, you follow after him, moving to the opposite side of the door. Now, the both of you stand on either side, prepared for whatever comes your way. “Ready?” you ask him.

He nods. “Ready, Doc.”

You press the green button.

The both of you press your backs to the wall as you hear the door click open. It’s far too early into the session for you to be leaving, so the guards must know something is wrong. The first guard walks in, the door swinging open so that it blocks the view of J, while you hold your breath to keep quiet. The guard doesn’t notice you, and his mouth drops open as he sees the table empty. He draws his gun, holding it out. “What the fu-“

Springing into action, Joker grabs the guard from behind, picking him up and throwing him across the room. The guard screams, his gun flying away from him as he hits the floor. In one quick swoop, Joker grabs the gun off the floor and jams the butt of it into the guard’s head, just as the other guard runs inside the room, already firing shots. J made it look so easy, but this other guy is your problem. Filled with a sudden adrenaline, you come up behind him, kicking him forward. You’re not the strongest, so he only stumbles, immediately whipping around to try and shoot you. Combat certainly isn’t your strong suit, not yet, but you can move exceptionally well. You sidestep him as he tries to ram the gun into your stomach, and you opt to knee him in the groin. He groans and tries to shoot you again, and you squeal as the bullets pierce the walls. Thank god the room is soundproof otherwise the guards outside would have come running in. From the corner of your eye, you catch Joker watching you. He’s holding the gun. He could shoot the guy easily but he doesn’t. He wants you to take the guard down. 

“Bitch,” the guard mutters, opting to try and throw himself on top of you just for you to dodge him again, lifting your leg and giving him a good knock to the ribs. He cries out, and as he tilts to the side, you give him a good punch to the temple. With a sick pleasure, you watch as he collapses to the floor, eyes wide open, barely breathing. Quickly, you grab his gun, not wanting to take any chances. 

You look up at Joker, who’s smiling as he watches you catch your breath, gripping the gun in your hand. “Impressive, doll. Though, ah, you definitely need to work on your skills.”

“You’re the one who gave me a night to think of this,” you grumble, and he chuckles. “Wasn’t exactly able to take a defense class.”

“I’ll teach ya.”

Suddenly, the room begins to glow red, sirens blaring that make your bones vibrate. You look at him in panic, he looks at you with excitement. Clearly, you both have very different definitions of fun. The sirens aren’t for you though, the Arkham security team doesn’t like to cause commotion for just a single patient causing mayhem. The patients must have started a ruckus, whether it be a riot or starting a fight with one another, you hadn’t gone into the details. You just told them to be distracting. 

You tilt your head towards the door. “Coming?”

“You go first, doll.”

You move ahead, prying the door open. Two more guards stand in the room, talking in hushed whispers beneath the blare of the siren. They don’t even notice you as you hold out the gun, firing into one guard’s shoulder and immediately spinning and shooting the other one in the hand. The guard whose hand you shot drops to the floor, their gun hitting the ground alongside them, and you quickly move forward and kick it. But as you kick the gun, a bullet flies out in front of you, nearly grazing your nose, and you spin around, the guard who you shot on the shoulder aiming his gun right at you. Fuck. You tense as his finger moves to pull the trigger again but before he can move any farther a bullet digs into his side and then one into his chest and he goes limp. 

You turn to see Joker huffing with the gun in his hand still smoking. “Doll, you’ve got a lot to learn. You’re not even-“ He turns and shoots the other guard in the chest “-getting in good shots. You’re leaving yourself vulnerable. Gotta make sure you get em’ where they can’t shoot back.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, suddenly feeling embarrassed. You didn’t expect to be this unprepared.

Seeing your expression, Joker falters a bit. “No apologies. I’ve told you, it, uh, doesn’t mean anything to me. It’s just a word.” He comes up to you and nudges you with his shoulder. “C’mon. Last room of guards before we have to run, right?”

“Right.”

“Well then,” he says, pointing to the door with his gun. “You first.”

This time, you don’t want to screw things up. You put the gun behind your back, pulling the door open with your other hand and entering the final room. This room has a security camera in the corner, so you don’t want to go in all guns blazing. You have an idea, and with the gun, gesture for Joker to stay hidden. You hope that’s what your gun waving conveys anyways. Three guards turn to look at you, the ones that greeted you when you first came in, two men and a woman. They’re all masked but you can make out the slight outline of their face beneath the face shield.

The woman runs forward, no gun drawn, leaving it still hanging at her hip. “Miss l/n, what happened?” She tries to crane her neck to see behind you but you’ve inched the door closed enough so she can’t see too much on the other side. “What happened with the nutbag? Are the guards attending to him?” 

You nod rapidly, trying to look like you’re startled. Your acting skills might need some touching up, another thing to work on. “Yes, I- I just wasn’t feeling very comfortable… Felt like I needed to get out of there.”

The woman snorts. “Alright, ma’am. Well, is there anything you need from us? Some other whackos are causing a disturbance.”

“Yes, I, um-“ You pull out your gun. “I need you to step aside and let us through.” You slam the barrel into her stomach, sending her flying backwards, and in one fluid motion you shoot the security camera in the corner and then train your gun on one of the other guards. You can sense Joker step out from behind you, shooting the other guard before he can even lift his own gun. The guard you’ve trained your gun on aims his gun right back at you. “You’re gonna let us go, ain’tcha?” you say, trying to keep your voice from shaking. You have to remain confident. “Or else this bullet is going in your head, right, Mr. J?” you say, looking at Joker. If you’re gonna be a villain to these people, might as well play the part.

Joker nods, mimicking your stance and pointing his gun at the guard. “Whaddya say, doll, what should we do if he, uh, refuses to listen?”

You tighten your finger on the trigger. “I can think of a few things.”

The guard drops his gun, raising his hands in surrender. It sends warmth through your chest. Even if it's sickly satisfying. You feel proud. “Okay, okay,” he blubbers, looking between them both. “Please just don’t kill me, I’ll let you go, please.”

Joker giggles. “How generous, you know, normally I’d use you to get out of this place but I don’t think we need the extra weight.” Joker shoots the man in his left hand, bam, then once in the other, bam. “Looks like you won’t be able to do much! Buh-bye!” The man faints immediately.

Seeing Joker at work, this sinister side of him you’ve only seen on the screen, makes you shiver, and your grip on the gun only tightens, knuckles going white. “The uniform. Take his uniform.”

Joker pouts at you. “Aw, it ain’t even my color.”

“J,” you warn.

“Kiddingggg, doll. Why so serious?” Grabbing the man, Joker strips him of his uniform roughly, getting each piece off before stripping out of his own clothes. Your cheeks turn pink and it all happens so fast before you can even think to turn your head and give him privacy. He pulls his shirt up over his head, chest in full display. The first thing that catches your eyes are all the scars and bruises littering his stomach, pink and jagged, scars you want to trace beneath your fingertips. He’s surprisingly toned, just like his arms. Not muscular exactly, but strong looking. Before you can get a better look, he pulls on the guard’s black undershirt, then fastens on the bulletproof vest. When he catches you staring, he grins. “Enjoying the show?”

You turn your head as he kicks off his pants, though you can still see him in your peripheral, throwing on the black cargo pants the guard had donned. “No,” you lie.

“And, are you, uh, gonna be gracing us with a costume change as well?”

You bite back a smile. “No.”

“Pity.”

When he’s finally done, you turn around just as he puts on the helmet. You don’t like that it’s hiding his face from you but you can still see his scarred smile if you look hard enough. “Lookin’ good, soldier,” you tease, saluting him. 

His lips twist into a smirk. “Lucky I like givin’ orders. Let’s move.”

“Okay, J, for this part, you’ve gotta follow me. I’ll run up ahead and lead you down to where we need to go, you gotta take out anyone you can. Got it?”

“Let’s see if we die or not, shall we?”

“You could try and be positive .”

You open the door, poking your head out to look around, and shit, it’s chaos out there, guards running back and forth, clearly busy with whatever the patients started. You can hear screams, banging, and laughter beneath the sound of the still screeching sirens. The place still glows a flashing red. You point to the right, down a long hallway. “This way!” you shout, running towards a set of doors at the every end of the hall. Arkham is a bit of a labyrinth but you know it well. Down that hallway leads to another hall which leads to more doors which then, finally, leads to the staff wing of Arkham. It’s where the back exit/entrance is. And also where you’ve parked your getaway vehicle. 

You don’t wait for Joker, but you can hear his steps behind you, the combat boots he stole pounding on the floor. Nobody seems to notice either of you at first, or they’re too busy to even give it any mind. You know eventually someone will run past Joker’s conference room and realize he’s not inside. His room empty. All traces of him gone. But you hope you’ve bought at least a bit of time. 

As you run, more guards run past you, and you’re nearly knocked off course as one bumps your shoulder. You keep steady on your feet though. Thank goodness for all those gymnastics lessons. The only time you glance over your shoulder is to make sure Joker is behind you before you push through the doors. Once you see him in all his suited up glory, you carry on through the doors, Joker just a step behind. “To the right again,” you yell. There’s less guards down here, but that means even more likely you’ll be caught. Already, you can see them turn to you, wondering what the hell you’re doing running off with one of the guards close behind. As the two of you run, one of the guards turns their attention to you. “Hey! What are you two doing?” the guard barks, running up in front of you. “The lady has a gun!”

You could probably give them an excuse that you’re running away from the danger but you feel too angry. “Running to safety, dumbass!” you say, using the gun like a hammer and hitting them on the head like a game of whack-a-mole. That was a hell of a lot more fun than shooting a gun. As the guard crumples to the floor, at least five other guards take notice, and you have to quickly jump over the guard’s unmoving body to run as fast as you can through the doors. You can hear gunshots explode all around you, it’s like a miracle you’re not hit, and you can tell which gunshots come from the guards and which from J. But before you know it, every single one of them falls flat on the floor. “Nice one, J,” you say, and he cuts up ahead of you, opening the door for you.

“Ladies first,” he says.  

“So gentlemanly.” You shoot out ahead of him. Now you’re in the staff hallway, lined with doors which leads to locker rooms and places to conduct meetings. At the very end of the hall is the exit. You’d be jumping for joy if it wasn’t for the fact that any second more guards would be chasing after you.

You grab his arm, pulling him down the hall, running faster than you ever have in your entire life. “Exit this way!” you scream through the chaos, heading into the “staff only” area of the building. Looming ahead of you, just down the hall of rooms and lockers, is the staff exit, leading to the back end of Arkham. You look over to Joker. “You ready?”

Joker moves his arm away from you, instead grabbing onto your hand with his own free one. “As I’ll ever be.”

The two of you barrel down the hall, practically slamming into the exit doors, desperately tugging them open. There doesn’t seem to be many people around except for a few guards lining the outside, and Joker moves to take care of them as you yank him towards your car. Well, your stolen car. You weren’t gonna risk coming in your own vehicle. “Here,” you say, pointing to a black car in front of you. Letting go of J’s hand, you stuff yourself into the driver's seat, and Joker shoots at another guard before cramming himself into the passenger seat. “Drive,” he yells, and you grab the keys from your pocket, turn them in the key hole, and slam on the pedal. He throws off his mask, tossing it in the back seat. “Faster!”

As you get to driving, you remember the final bits of your plan. The part you’re most proud of. “Hey, J, wanna hear what other distraction I planned?” you yell over the roar of the engine, as you swerve around the parking lot.

“Whaddisit?”

“Gas! The same kind they might have used on you. Rigged it all up on my own. The patients should be all rounded up in their cells by now and the guards? They’re getting knocked out cold!”

You have to focus, but you turn towards Joker, your heart swelling in your chest when he looks impressed. His eyes are wide as he pulls down the window and looks back at Arkham as you pump it straight out of the parking lot, taking down the small security gate. In your rear view mirror, you can see green explosions of gas within the windows. If all worked well, only the guards should be getting knocked out about now, leaving no one to come after you. Police will be on their way, but that at least gives you a bit more time and them a distraction. Plus, they aren’t sure what they’re looking for, no clue what car or who helped Joker escape, not until they can wake the guards.

Now, you realize, you can’t just go back to your apartment. It’s too risky. You look at J as you slow the car, trying to blend in with the rest of Gotham traffic. You failed to plan this far. “J, I don’t know where to go now.”

“I do,” he says, leaning over, making sure not to put too much weight on you or crush you as he takes hold of the wheel. “Just pump the gas, doll, I’ll get us somewhere safe.”

It sounds like a horrible idea, but you nod. You’d make it work. “Okay,” you say, and as the light turns green, you hit the gas. It’s scary as hell just controlling the gas, letting Joker swerve you both around, but you trust him. Ha, funny. You trust the Joker. He drives you towards the outer parts of Gotham, and as you enter a rather dingy residential street, he moves the car off the road. “Park it here,” he says, and you obey, pressing the brake and shifting the car into park. 

“Why here?”

“I’ve got a spot around here.”

“You have an apartment?”

He snorts. “No, I’ve got a, uh, hideout spot in one of the abandoned warehouses at the outskirts of Gotham. And it wouldn’t be very wise to park right outside the entrance.” 

Smart, you hadn’t thought of that. Clearly you lack experience in this realm. You grab the keys and throw open the door, Joker doing the same, and the two of you begin walking on the sidewalk, Joker taking the lead. Darkness has already set over the city, and the two of you walk beneath the light of dim street lamps. It’s cold out, and your white coat isn’t exactly meant to keep you warm, so you hug yourself to try and keep away the chill. “Is it very far?” you ask, and you realize this is the first quiet time you both have had together since escaping. You’ve been too anxious over escaping to even think about everything that’s happened. To think of how the Joker is right next to you, taking you to one of his many hideaways. 

Joker shakes his head. “Not too far, doll.”

Silence settles upon you both, the two of you far too preoccupied with getting to the warehouse to say much of anything else.

As you walk, the blare of sirens starts up in the distance, and when you turn behind you, you can see police lights in the distance. You’re positive they’re not for you, not yet, but if they even caught a glimpse of the Joker, the two of you would be over. Joker knew this too, clearly, grabbing your arm and picking up his pace, practically dragging you as he began to run. Everything is a blur as the two of you fly through the streets. Even though you’re not bad at running, after a few twists and turns, your legs start to hurt, your chest feeling heavy. But Joker doesn’t stop, probably used to running from lord knows what. Before you can register anything, you’re climbing over gates and Joker pushes open the large doors of the abandoned warehouse, pulling you in and up a crumbling flight of stairs until you reach the second floor.

Finally, Joker and you stop moving, taking time to catch your breath. Fuck, everything hurts.

You gasp, throwing yourself against the concrete wall of the warehouse, sliding down until your butt hits the floor. Your chest moves rapidly up and down as you try to catch your breath. Joker crouches in front of you. “Breathe, just breathe, good girl.” He holds out his arms. “C’mere.”

Immediately, you lean forward and throw your arms around him, going limp. He stands up, taking you with him, your legs dragging lifelessly on the floor until only the tips of your toes touch the concrete. You bury your face into his shoulder, and for a second everything feels right. Finally, a quiet moment, and everything crashes down on you, every decision you’ve made. It takes a second for you to process that you’re hugging the Joker, and he’s letting you hug him back. This man, this villain you’d become infatuated with, was holding you close. You’ve imagined something like this before, even when you didn’t want to, but this is better than any of that. “We did it,” you mumble into his guard shirt, which smells like rust and gunsmoke. “We escaped.”

“You did it,” he says, and when you finally pull back to look at him, he’s smiling at you. He gently settles you back on to the floor. “They’re going to come looking for us though. We’ll need to lay low for the moment.”

“In here?” It’s strange to be so close, your arms still wrapped around his neck. “This where you usually stay?”

“I stay all over.”

“Very spacious,” you say, moving your head to look around. “Where do you sleep though? On the hard floor?”

“Chaos doesn’t sleep, darling.”

“No, but people sure do.” You tug gently on one of his locks of hair and he growls. “You need sleep.”

“Can’t sleep now. Not when we’re being pursued.” He wrinkles his nose. “This your first time being a wanted criminal?”

“Duh.”

“I really can’t believe you did it, doll. Made up a whole plan and everything and got me out of Arkham.” Much to your dismay, he moves away from you, walking to some other part of the building. You hesitantly follow after him. “We can camp out here for the night but then we’ll have to move.” In a secluded corner of the room, a moth-eaten curtain hangs from the ceiling, concealing that whole part of the room. Joker takes the curtain in his hand, then looks at you. “Course, we can’t exactly fend for ourselves without weapons, can we?”

Yanking back the curtain, on the other side is a wall full of all sorts of weapons. Guns, knives, even TNT. There’s crates full of clothes, Joker’s clothes, you assume. Some clown masks. All sorts of tools for mischief. You look at it all like a child in a candy store. “J, this is amazing. Isn’t it kind of risky keeping it locked up in here though?”

“I’ve got some goons guarding it. And nobody in Gotham comes in here anymore, I’ve made sure of it.” He shrugs. “If anyone were to find it, let em’ take it, I’d just get duplicates and use them all on the thief.”

You move forward to get a better look at everything as Joker drifts behind you. It should be scary just how much violence is here at his fingertips but know it just makes you swell inside.

“So, how about it, doll? Pick your poison,” Joker says, holding your shoulders from behind. You look over all your options. The guns weren’t exactly your style, you were better at hitting people with them than you were at shooting them. The blades looked nice, and you’d like to learn to use them, but they could only do so much. Something that did catch your eye, sticking out from the other weapons, was a mallet in the corner. It was a tad comically large, definitely not the regular kind you’d see on a construction site. You move forward, Joker moving with you, and grab the handle. 

“Whaddya have this one for?” you ask.

“Uhhhh, to kill people with?”

You glare at his snarky response, though you’re still smiling. “I figured that much. Where’d you get it from though?”

“Amusement Mile.” The old, abandoned theme park towards the other end of Gotham. It’s been shut down ever since you were a child, but you remember your parents driving past it. Seeing a place that must have been so exciting and colorful look so dark and decrepit was chilling. “Found it at one of those old high striker games. Adjusted it a bit.”

Lifting it, you test the weight. It’s definitely heavy, but the weight is distributed evenly, making it easy to maneuver. You give it a quick swing, the whoosh of the mallet like music to your ears. This was what you needed. Sturdy, not too hard to wield, and perfect to pair with your swiftness. “I want this one.”

“Gonna play a game of whack-a-bat with that one?” He maneuvers in front of you, grabbing the handle of the mallet before you could give it another swing. “You can take that one. But you need a gun too. The mallets they’re, uh, too big to get around places sometimes.”

You look back at the wall and point at a small silver gun. “I’ll take that one too.”

He grins. “Are you sure you’re, ah, ready to cause some damage?”

You drop the mallet. “I’ve been ready.” All your life you’ve been pushed to the side. No, pushed to the ground. You were ready to hurt some people back. To make skyscrapers crumble and leaders fall. This anger inside you boils, and you can feel your grip tighten on the handle, envisioning every person who has wronged you.

Joker’s laugh pulls you back to reality, stepping up closer in front of you. “Calm down there, lovely. They call me the Harlequin of Hate but I think that title better suits you,” he says, cupping your chin. “My little Harlequin, partner to the Clown Prince of Crime.”

————————-

That night, you’re stuck sleeping on a mattress on the floor. 

You flop down on your back, the mattress not the comfiest thing you’ve ever slept on but it works. There’s no blanket, so no way of keeping warm, and you try and shift around to find a comfortable position. Joker sits on the edge of the mattress, his knees tucked up to his chest, and it’s such an odd sight to see him so regular that you laugh. His head jerks to look at you. “Admirin’ the view?”

“Maybe,” you say, smiling as you lay on your side. “It’s just weird to see you here. Not in Arkham or fighting B-Man.”

He hums. “It ain’t everyday I bring people around ere’. At least, not like this.”

“Lucky me, huh?”

“You realize you’re in this forever now, right? There’s, uh, no goin’ back from here.”

The weight of it settles on you. “I know... I wouldn’t have gone along if I didn’t know that.”

“Well, if you wanted to go, you could go now. You could walk free, tell the cops I threatened you and made you do all this.” He looks down at his feet. “I, ah, won’t stop you.”

You’re surprised to find your eyes watering. Joker, this menace, a force to be reckoned with, was giving you the option to leave. He could be fooling you, of course, but you could tell from the way the words escaped him awkwardly, uncomfortably tender, that he meant every bit of it. He’d let you go, you could continue your regular life, maybe find a better job. But that wasn’t the point of why you freed him. You wanted to escape too, to show Gotham how corrupt it was, and you wouldn’t do that without J. “I’m not walking away,” you say back.

“You’re insane, ya know that?”

“I know.” You stare at one another in silence. Finally, you yawn. “Are you… are you gonna come to bed?” You’re not sure exactly what’s going on between you and Joker. You like him, you know that much, but how much exactly does he like you? Enough to keep you around, obviously. But to what extent did he want you around? Did he want not just your loyalty but also your affections? You were ready to give affection, but was he? 

Joker shakes his head, and you feel yourself grow disappointed. “You go on, doll. I, uh, gotta keep watch.”

“Mr. J-“

“I like it when you call me that.”

“-You’ve gotta get some sleep. You’re gonna pass out without it.”

“I’ll be fine,” he grumbles. “Don’t ya get your pretty little head worried over it.”

“You’re an ass.”

Your anger only makes him smile. “If you’re so, ah, worried, then just wake up early and I’ll drift off for a bit.”

“Then that’s exactly what I’ll do,” you say, flipping over, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you ticked off. You’re not actually upset, you just wished Joker prioritized himself a bit more. That was something to deal with another day. “Goodnight, J.”

“Night, darlin’.”

That night you dream of Gotham in flames. You dream of chaos. You dream of him.

Taglist:

Taglist: @lightsabergirl / @knoepfl / @jeffswh0re / @itsmrshamilton / @heath-ledger-jokers-wife / @lolwey / @ilovetoomanymen / @amazingzou/ @ronniesweetkisser / @emberhatesthemoon

lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

[gaywineauntsstuff]

Listen the ‘Bruce brought dick in to stop him killing Zucco” is fun

You know what’s more fun

The fact that Dick Grayson is the fundamental opposite of Jokers one bad day

Because he was 9 and insane

Jokers “all it takes is one bad day” meet Dick Grayson also terminally insane but in the opposite direction.

(“I had a bad day not a fan, it’s illegal now”

“Chum murder is already illegal”

“Yeah in the eyes of the law, but who follows that! I’ve decided it’s illegal for people to have bad days”

“You have to follow laws Dick. You have to”

“Says the man getting shot at by the cops bc he dresses as a giant bat monster and fights crime using ancient martial arts”

“Hnnng”

“Anyway it’s illegal now, people suffering I have decided and I’m adorable so what I say goes!”

Bruce pinching bridge of nose “Dick you can’t save everyone and change every person you meets life”

“How about! No!”

“Di-“

“Great talk Bruce! Bye bye now!”)

Like when I say Dick Grayson was the crazy Robin I don’t mean he was aggressive or cruel

No I mean this man would not be out of place in Lewis Carol’s Alice in wonderland.

He’d see all the insane shit in Gotham and go ‘that makes perfect sense’ and continue on his merry way

Like he’s the type of kid who when he’s mad at Bruce for sidelining him on a fight against the joker (and making him fight Harley)

Will pull out a chessboard, grab Harley Quinn and go “I win, you get arkhamed you win we fight”

“Kid-“

“I have a gymnastics competition coming up and I wanna show up this douche in my class- you are not breaking my legs before then. Sit down. Play chess”

“Shit kid why didncha say so”

Why does he wanna fight the Joker who will objectively injure him far more throughly

“Well it’s simple math, I grew up in a circus, I like clowns, he is the biggest disgrace to clownery I’ve ever seen bet he didn’t even go to clown college. Doesn’t even have any iconic makeup, he just has toxic waste skin?? Like not even eye makeup or a red nose?? If you wanna do thematic crime do it right? Anyway it’s my legal obligation to try at any given moment to reck the embarrassment to all things goofy and funs shit.”

—————

Bruce looking for his 9 year old ward who was kidnapped as Robin

Dick hanging upside down on semi sentient vine gesturing wildly at poison Ivy who is nodding empathically

“And the water here is not normal!! Like how do you grow plants! I used to have to take care of plants all the time and now if I water them they rot! Like right in front of me!!? And I feel so bad but?? It’s water?? Please drink it?? Mr plant”

“Oh yeah it’s because of all the toxic ace chemicals in the water, you have to triple filter it. Honestly Robin I’m disappointed, your plants should be drinking the same water as you”

“ they do tho!”

“You…drink… Gotham tap water? Batman lets you drink Gotham tap water?”

“Well no… he always tells me to use the filter but I like the tap water!! Sometimes it’s fun colors and spicy”

“oh… oh that explains so much about you..”

“No he just came like that.”

“Oh HI B I was asking miss Dr.ivy why my plants keep dying”

“Robin don’t consort with villains”

“Miss Dr. Ivy you’re a doctor right”

Poison Ivy who is violently amused “PHD not MD but yeah I am”

“So you’re smart”

“Yeasss”

“Cool!…. What does consort mean?”

————-

Annoys the riddler by going with the most out of pocket technically true answer

Think “a sparrow with a shotgun”

———-

Makes the Jokers goons laugh, louder than the joker. Even while under threats of death by sufficiently wacky murder plot

———-

[rhiannonsaintofcharm]

you people are lucky I can’t draw because the content I would release upon this world would be so cringe and insane (griddlehark harley quinn x joker au)

[thisiswhereikeepdcthings]

how crazy do you think the AO3 authours notes are in gotham?

"Joker killed my grandma with a reindeer whilst playing 'grandma got run over by a reindeer' and i don't think i can continue to write this JokerBat fic anymore guys sorry :/ it just feels disrespectful."

“Look, I get if Batman/Clark Kent isn’t your cup of tea, but the guy writes more about Batman than anyone else outside of Gotham. There’s got to be a reason, is all I’m saying.”

“And here I am, jumping on the Batman/Bruce Wayne train like the rest of our beloved hellhole. Anyway, if you’re not from Gotham you can keep your criticisms to yourself or I will not be held responsible for the bloodshed that will occur should you insult our beloved sunshine child and his goth sugar baby. You don’t know them like we do.”

“Hey, sorry I haven’t updated in awhile. I died and then got caught up in this whole my-father-didn’t-avenge-me angst thing. Which was completely justified in my opinion. Anyway…”

“Let’s be honest, this entire series is dedicated to the fact that Red Hood could crush any of us with his thighs and we’d say thank you.”

“I just read a fic shipping Nightwing/Superman and I mean, come on. The author is clearly not from Gotham but I can never unsee that and I think I should be entitled to financial compensation.”

“Sorry it’s been awhile, I just got a new job! With the Best Boss™️ (if you know, you know). Also, my boss said he’d give a hundred bucks if I wrote a Batman bashing fic? Thoughts? Ngl I don’t think it’d even be that hard.”

“‘WHy aRE yoU WriTIng ABouT FakE SupERheROes WHen THe rEAl oNEs aRE riGHt tHEre?’ Uh, because it’s Gotham and they’re all a disaster? And also because I don’t want to be haunted by the venegeful spirits of robins past idk. Thinking of doing a crossover though. Batman in the Avengers? Thoughts?”

“I just want my husband Nightwing to be happy, is that too much to ask?”

“I came across Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy on my way home from school today and will now be hyperfixating on that ship, thanks.”

“Leave me and my 235k word fic of Prince!Bruce/Knight!Batman alone you Metropolis and Superman-loving traitors. This is not for you.”

[corroded-hellfire]

Mad Love - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie goes to visit Dustin at college and meets the Harley Quinn to his Joker at a Halloween party

Note: I had this idea because I needed a good Harley and Joker fix after watching the insane disappointment that was Joker 2.

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral, m receiving, alcohol, Harley and Joker are crazy and so is Eddie so what do you expect

Words: 5k

“The party is where?”

“It’s at a house on the edge of campus.”

“A frat house, Dustin. A frat house. How do you even know these guys?”

Dustin sighs and grabs his deerstalker hat.

“I’m tutoring one of the guys who lives there,” he says.

“And this isn’t just some prank?” Eddie asks, a brow raised in skepticism. “Cool frat bro asks his younger, nerdy tutor to come by his Halloween party?”

The shorter man scoffs and shakes his head. 

“Clay is a good guy,” Dustin defends. “You think I wouldn’t have been able to sniff out if he was some douchebag bully by now? My asshole detector is accurate, and you know it.”

“Fine.” Eddie picks his purple blazer up from where he laid it over the back of a chair. He slips his arms into it and adjusts it until it’s comfortable. “The music will probably be shit, though.”

“Look dude,” Dustin says, “you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. You can hang out in my dorm. Or one of the dining halls stays open pretty late. Grab some food.”

“Nope,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. His green-tinted curls sway with the motion. “I drove for hours to see your scrawny ass; I’m not going anywhere. Plus, I love Halloween parties.”

“Exactly how many have you been invited to before?” 

“Hey, I provided great party favors in high school. I was a welcome sight for the most part.”

“Doesn’t mean ‘invited’...” Dustin mumbles as he adjusts his Sherlock Holmes cloak.

Eddie hears him anyway and knocks the hat off his friend’s head before grabbing the bag of makeup he brought to complete his costume.

Eddie’s first thought when he walks into the frat party is that it looks exactly like every college movie he’s ever seen. Red solo cups are in almost every hand, with a dozen or so already lost or discarded on the hardwood floor. The music is awful, as predicted, and despite the chilly October air, the room feels muggy because of all the bodies crammed inside. 

“I don’t know what half these costumes are supposed to be,” Eddie shouts over the thumping bass. 

Dustin shrugs in response and the two of them move farther into the room. The deeper into the crowd they get, and the more he looks around, the happier Eddie becomes that he came. Apparently, most college girls like to go for the “slutty” versions of costumes and Eddie can’t say that he minds one bit. A particular girl in a Princess Leia gold bikini catches his eye, but Dustin grabs his arm and drags him towards the stairs before he can even muster up a witty line to say to her.

“Why the fuck did I dress as a clown?” Eddie murmurs to himself. 

“Eddie!” Dustin shouts. “This is Clay!”

The older man’s immediate reaction is that this guy looks like a much taller and less douchey Jason Carver. He doesn’t exude the same sense of superiority and holier-than-thou-ness that the Hawkins High basketball player did. 

Clay offers his hand to Eddie with a smile.

“Nice to meet you,” he calls above the music. “Dustin has told me a lot about you.”

Eddie shoots Dustin a smirk, to which the faux Sherlock Holmes rolls his eyes. 

“Good to meet you, too,” Eddie says, shaking the man’s hand. 

“Keg’s over there,” Clay says, gesturing towards the front corner of the open area, “bathrooms upstairs. Have fun!”

“Thanks, man,” Dustin replies. 

Eddie feels like his head is on a swivel, looking in every direction at all the girls around him. He’s pretty sure he’s never been around this many girls in his life. 

“Come on, Joker,” Dustin says, patting his friend on the back. “Stop looking over your shoulder like Batman is gonna pop out at any second and let's go get a drink.”

“M’not looking for any man, dude,” Eddie says as they head towards the keg. “Besides, you’re not old enough to drink.”

“Ya know, for a villain, you’re pretty uptight. Especially for one who used to sell drugs.”

Eddie shrugs and swipes up a clean solo cup. He opens his mouth to reply as he takes another step towards the keg, but he’s cut off as he almost bumps into someone also going for the tap. 

“Whoa! Sorry there, Puddin’.”

Dark brown eyes go from his own black sneakers to black boots with red laces, scan up one red and one black pant leg, a long sleeve top with the colors on the opposite sides, and up to the prettiest face Eddie’s ever seen—even if there’s a black mask over her eyes. The cherry on top is the black and red jester hat with the small white cotton balls on the ends. 

“My apologies, darling,” Eddie croons, sketching a bow. “After you.”

The female clown giggles and shrugs her shoulders coyly. 

“Thanks, Mister J.” Her voice is sweet and clear, even above the noise of the party. 

Dustin doesn’t need to be dressed as Sherlock Holmes to figure out how Eddie is looking at this girl. The college freshman sees the way his friend’s eyes follow every move she makes as she fills her cup with beer. 

“I, uh, see a friend from my chem class,” Dustin says, shooting Eddie a sly smirk. “I’ll leave you clowns to it.” 

Eddie nods without really listening, eyes never leaving the red and black dream standing in front of him. Once her cup is filled, she steps aside so her villainous counterpart can take his turn. 

“Where you been hiding on me, huh?” Harley asks before taking a sip of her beer. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Then again, I guess the white paint and red lipstick could disguise anyone.”

“I could say the same to you.” Eddie nods to where she’s left a red lipstick stain on the rim of her solo cup. 

“Well, I do have to admit that I’m not quite as outgoing when I’m not hiding behind a pound of makeup and a mask.” 

“And I have to admit, I don’t actually go to school here.” Eddie winces before taking a large gulp from his own cup.

“It’s my lucky night, then!” She grins and reaches out, a red glove tugging on a purple lapel to bring him in closer. “Not here visiting a girlfriend, I hope?”

“Nah.” Eddie shakes his head as he leans into her space. “Visiting a nerdy freshman that I took under my wing last time he was a freshman.”

“Sherlock Holmes?” Harley asks. She tilts her head to the side and Eddie can’t help but smile at how it adorably skews her hat.

“That’s him.”

“That’s so cute!” 

The keg starts to gather a crowd, so the dynamic duo steps out of the way. Unfortunately, it’s closer to a speaker that has the music blaring in their faces.

“Outside?” Harley mouths, hitching her thumb over her shoulder towards the backyard.

Eddie nods and follows his fellow jester out into the crisp autumn night. Partygoers mingle in varying costumes, conversations able to be heard out here even over the thumping bass flooding out from the house. There aren’t any empty chairs or places to sit, so the pair decide to take a lap around the yard.

“What do you study?” Eddie asks as they walk side by side.

“Psychology,” she replies, giving a small dramatic bow that lets the white pom pom balls on the end of her hat shake back and forth.

“Ah,” Eddie says, raising his eyebrows. “Not just Harley Quinn then, we’ve got Dr. Harleen Quinzel herself.” 

“In the flesh,” she says with a cheeky shrug of her shoulders. “Or, well, in the clown suit and makeup, anyway. It’s my last year so I figured it’s time to go all out and have fun. Hence the costume.”

“And I just dress like this regularly,” Eddie jokes, adjusting his purple tie with his free hand. “I’m a natural green head, by the way. None of that dyed shit for me. It’s always so obvious when it’s fake.”

“It goes so well with your deathly pale complexion and naturally thick eyelined eyes,” she says, gesturing to his makeup. 

“Don’t forget the au naturale blood red lips,” Eddie adds, puckering them for emphasis. 

“Who could forget those lips?” Harley’s eyes darken as she speaks, her gaze drifting down to Eddie’s mouth before coming back up to meet his eyes. 

“God, it’s freezing out here,” a girl in a hula skirt and coconut bra complains as she hurries past the clowns with a friend, heading towards the door for the house. 

“I’m comfortable,” Harley says, stopping to do a twirl in between steps. “Have no idea why she could be so chilled! They call me crazy, but at least I know to be covered up outside in Indiana in October. Ah, but I suppose that would ruin the sexiness of her costume, wouldn’t it?”

“Well,” Eddie says, not hiding the fact that he’s looking her up and down. He figures he might as well shoot his shot. “You’re literally covered from head to toe, down to your fingertips, and you managed to be the sexiest one here tonight.”

It takes her a moment to recover from the unexpected compliment. Flirting? Okay, she was absolutely doing it too. But Eddie’s words warm her from within and she can feel the heat seeking its only outlet in this costume: her face. 

“Aha, but word on the street is that you’re crazy too, Mister J.”

“Maybe crazy, but not blind,” Eddie replies. 

She smiles and it makes Eddie’s heart stutter in his chest. 

Before Harley gets a chance to open her mouth and reply, the back door of the frat house busts open and a whole gaggle of drunken guys come spilling out. 

“Stupid boys,” Harley says, shaking her head. She looks back to Eddie and offers her hand, palm up. “Wanna go for a walk?”

“I’d be delighted.” Eddie’s white gloved hand takes her black gloved hand, and the two intertwine their fingers as they head to the side of the frat house, to walk around to the front.

There are still people streaming into the party. Cars are parked up and down the street and some are clearly circling the block to see where they might be able to squeeze in as well. 

Harley leads Eddie across the street and down a side road, away from the chaos of the party. 

“So,” she says once they’re far enough away to hear one another easily, “what’s your real name, Joker?”

“Eddie,” he tells her, giving her hand a soft squeeze. “What about you?”

She tells him her name and Eddie can’t help but think how pretty it is. 

“But tonight I’m Harley, cause she ain’t as shy as I am,” she says.

“I’m pretty sure Eddie is on the same level of outgoing-ness that Joker is, so I’m good with either,” he says, making her laugh. 

The two of them walk towards the heart of campus and come to the point where Eddie actually starts to recognize buildings.

“This is the student center, right?” he asks.

“Yep. The best place to get good on campus, just as a heads up.”

“I will definitely keep that in mind. My buddy says he mostly eats in the East dining hall cause it’s right in front of his dorm building,” Eddie explains.

“That’s the East dining hall right there,” Harley says, pointing to a long one-story building to their right.

“Which makes that Haynes Hall.” Eddie gestures to the looming brick building behind it. “That’s where I’m crashing.”

“Is that so?” 

The sultry, suggestive tone goes right to Eddie’s cock. 

“Would you, uh, like to see it?” he asks, tilting his head to the side with a small smile. 

“You know,” she says, leaning forward to rest her hands on the lapels of his purple blazer, “I lived there back when I was a freshman.”

Eddie feels his heart drop. Was he reading the signals wrong? If so, what does it mean that she has her hands on his chest right now?

“I’m curious to see how it changed over these past three years,” she finishes.

The grin on Eddie’s face is as wide as the one the fictional character he’s dressed up as usually sports. 

“Well, let’s not keep you in suspense any longer,” he says.

Harley gladly slips one of her hands into one of Eddie’s and tugs him in the direction of the twelve-story building. As soon as both of their pairs of black shoes are squeaking down the entryway hall down to the elevator, Harley gently pulls her hand away from Eddie’s to yank off the red and black gloves. The Joker follows suit with his own white ones, wanting to be able to hold her hand without any offending material in the way. 

Their fingers lace together as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for the pair of them, and Harley jabs the elevator up button with her thumb. The silver doors glide open and as soon as he’s inside, Eddie is pressing the button to Dustin’s floor with urgency, before switching to the button that closes the elevator doors. 

The moment the doors slide closed behind them, Eddie backs Harley up against the side wall of the elevator and cages her in by resting his arms against the litany of flyers that have been taped up on either side of her head. Her black mask slowly starts to slip down her nose as she gazes up at him. Eddie lowers his head to hers, his mouth only a breath away. A cheerful ding letting them know they’re on the right floor interrupts the almost-kiss.

Her eagerness is clear with the harsh tug she gives Eddie’s arm to lead him out of the elevator and down the thinly carpeted hall. 

“Uh, 802,” Eddie says, scanning the room numbers of every door they pass.

“Oops,” Harley says with a giggle. “We’re going the wrong way.” She does a clumsy attempt at a ballet spin to turn one-eighty degrees and face the other end of the hall. 

As soon as Eddie starts to think that they’re never going to find this goddamn room, they turn a corner and skid to a halt in front of the correct door. Eddie digs the extra key that Dustin gave him out of his pocket and slips it into the lock.

The moment they’re inside, Eddie is fumbling for the light since he doesn’t know the layout and can’t blindly lead her to the bed. The last thing he needs is either of them tripping on some textbook and breaking an arm. 

Dustin’s bed is pushed against the right side of the wall and Eddie already makes a mental note to beg his younger friend’s forgiveness as he’s either disinfecting or burning the sheets later. Speaking of said younger friend…

Eddie doesn’t have the time or inkling to go digging through Dustin’s drawers to find a sock to hang on the doorknob, so he kicks off his sneakers and yanks at his black socks. One gets tossed to the cluttered floor while Eddie opens the dorm door and puts the other on the doorknob. The universal sign that you better come back later—even if this is your room. 

Now Eddie can return his attention to the one place he’d like to keep it tonight: the beautiful jester in front of him. 

“Why don’t you take a seat, Puddin’?” Harley coos, patting the edge of the mattress. 

He sits down where she instructed and is rewarded with the sight of her kneeling on the floor between his spread legs. Eddie drops one of Dustin’s pillows down on the floor—since the bedding is all going to need to be taken care of anyway—and she gives the man above her a grateful smile.

Bare hands work at the belt holding the purple pants up and Eddie can’t keep his eyes off of them. He admires how soft and smooth they look as her fingers nimbly work. She then pops open his fly and drags down the zipper. Eddie lifts his hips and together the two of them push the pants and his boxers down his thighs. His cock springs free, already hard and begging to be touched. Her eyes immediately land on the precum beading at the head and she licks over her lips eagerly. A soft hum from the back of her throat is the only warning Eddie gets before she takes his length in her hand and immediately begins licking up the side of his shaft. 

Eddie’s head drops back with a low groan. One hand falls to the mattress beside him while the other gently rests on the crown of her jester hat. When she takes the head of his cock in her mouth, Eddie clenches the comforter that his hand is resting on in his fist.

“Fuck,” Eddie moans. He tilts his chin forward to look down at the sexy supervillain sucking his dick. The bright red lipstick leaves a ring around Eddie’s cock that he never wants to wash off. He watches her go deeper and deeper each time, the crimson smears getting closer to the dark patch of hair at his base. 

When her head begins to pick up speed, bobbing up and down, Eddie knows he needs to stop her before the real fun begins. Gently, he presses against her shoulder, which she is able to interpret and pulls her mouth off his cock with a pop. She looks up at him and her black eye makeup has smeared, smudging beneath her eyes and dark tear trails carving a path down the white face paint—all with the mask still in place. 

“You’re too good at that,” Eddie tells her with a breathy chuckle.

“Good thing you stopped me, or I would’ve just kept going,” she says, laying her head down on his thighs and looking up at him with eyes shiny from tears. “And where would the fun be in that?”

“Exactly, darling.” 

Eddie helps her up from the floor and she takes a seat on the bed next to him. She watches his every motion as he stands to kick his pants and boxers all the way off. Once he’s finished, she turns so her back is facing him.

“Would you mind unzipping me?” she asks.

“Not one bit.” Eddie leans in and presses a kiss to the side of her neck, which causes a shiver to go down her spine as Eddie drags the pull tab in that same direction. 

Harley stands and kicks her boots off before shimmying the bodysuit costume down her frame. Eddie’s eyes make sure to capture every last detail of the reveal. With every new area of skin that’s exposed, it becomes his new favorite. The black lace bra and red lace panties make him chuckle.

“Even in the right colors down to that sinful underwear,” he remarks. 

“Thought it was only fitting,” she says with the shrug of one shoulder. She kneels down on the bed and leans forward, working on popping open the buttons, first, on the yellow vest beneath the blazer, and then the mint green shirt below that. “Didn’t think that anyone was actually gonna see me like this tonight, so that makes for a nice surprise.” 

“Didn’t think you’d be hooking up with someone with clown makeup on?” Eddie teases as he shrugs out of all his top layers.

“I could ask you the same question, Mister J.”

“Mm,” Eddie hums as he slips his arm around her waist and lowers her down to the mattress. “So we’ll be naked, just clowns from the neck up.”

“You’re already naked,” Harley muses, her eyes running up and down his bare form as he crawls on top of her. “Least you can do is make it even.”

A sound suspiciously close to a growl rumbles from Eddie’s throat before he speaks.

“Gladly.”

She arches her back, and Eddie counts his blessings when he’s able to unhook her bra fairly easily. He helps her get it off her arms and throw it somewhere in the dorm to be found later. Next, she lifts her hips off the mattress and Eddie is able to free her of her panties in one fell swoop. 

Calloused fingers run up the outside of soft thighs before he lets them trail down to the part most aching for his touch.

Harley feels on edge—his hand is so close and he can’t move it fast enough. A desperate whimper tumbles from her lips and Eddie can’t help but find it adorably endearing. 

“P-Please, Eddie,” she whines. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” Eddie croons. His fingers travel down farther, and she automatically drops her legs open wider for him. A thick middle finger slides down and up her slit. “Fuck, you’re soaked.”

“Want you so bad,” is the only thing she can get out, through a hoarse wispy voice. 

“Is my Harley Quinn all needy? Hmm?” Eddie’s voice is soft and slow as his middle finger slides up and presses against her clit. 

“Yes!” Her hands grip at Eddie’s upper arms and her eyes practically roll back in her head as he rubs tight circles against her sensitive nub. “Yes, Puddin’. Need you so bad.” 

“Tell me what you need,” Eddie purrs.

“You,” Harley whimpers. “Your cock.”

“Whatever my partner in crime wants.” Eddie smirks as he positions his body on top of hers and guides his cock to her entrance. He moves slowly and she feels every inch as he pushes inside of her. 

“Feels so good,” she whimpers, reaching up to hold on to some part of him.

“Tell me how good, baby.”

“M’so full,” she whines, hands moving higher so her fingers tangle in his green-tinted locks. “You’re so fucking big.”

Eddie’s hips pick up the pace, building a steady rhythm that makes the mattress below them squeak. Neither can hear over the sound of their labored breathing, though. 

Using her grip on his hair, Harley pulls Eddie’s face down to hers and smashes their mouths together. Their lips meld together and tongues dance with one another, only adding to the intense pleasure. A particularly hard thrust of Eddie’s hips has them moaning into one another’s mouths. When the kiss breaks, Eddie buries his head into her neck while Harley’s breaths become even more shallow.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking tight,” he growls against her skin. “Feels goddamn perfect.”

Fingers tighten in Eddie’s hair in response, and the man isn’t able to hold back a guttural groan when she gives a small tug on the strands. 

“Someone likes his hair being pulled,” Harley murmurs.

Eddie pulls back and looks down at her. He opens his mouth to respond but breaks into strangled laughter before any words can come out.

“W-What?” she asks.

“I had some witty retort questioning if you like your hair pulled, but I can’t even see your hair because of that adorable fucking hat.”

Harley lets out a soft giggle and shakes her head from side to side so the white pom poms on the end of the sides wiggle all over the place.

“How are you so goddamn sexy and insanely cute at the same time?” Eddie asks, a breathy laugh of his own coming out as his hips keep up their punishing pace. 

“Mm, well, insane comes with the territory.” She grins and Eddie can’t help but dive back in to press his lips to her again. The red lipstick each of them is wearing smears to combine a shade of red that’s a compromise of both hues. 

“Can I take your mask off?” Eddie asks against her lips.

“Please.”

Eddie balances himself hovering over her body before he reaches up with one hand and takes the small black mask off her face. He gently tosses it to land on top of the costume in a heap on the floor before focusing on her face. It’s still covered in white makeup with black tear tracks, but he can see much more clearly what she looks like underneath the whole Harley Quinn getup and it makes him smile. 

“Beautiful,” he says, not even realizing he said it aloud at first. 

“Not so bad yourself, gorgeous,” Harley says, giving him a wink. 

A minor tilt of Eddie’s hips has his cock hitting just the right spot to make her see stars. A mix between a gasp and a moan erupts from her throat as her hands move to grab Eddie’s upper arms. Her fingers curl into his triceps and her eyes fall shut at the immense pleasure of Eddie’s cock repeatedly brushing that perfect spot.

“Holy shit,” she gasps. 

“Good, baby?” Eddie coos.

“Uh huh,” she mumbles, forehead crinkling as her mouth falls open in awe. “God, right there, Eddie.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Eddie drills his hips into hers, his eyes boring down at hers as she blinks them open.

Face still scrunched up in ecstasy, Harley stares right back up at Eddie. The combination of him hitting that spot over and over again mixed with the intimacy of the intense eye contact creates a familiar tightening in her lower abdomen.

“Eddie, I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“That’s it,” Eddie rasps. “Come on my cock, sweetheart.” He reaches down and rubs her clit in time with his thrusts into her. 

The friction is just what she needs to send her over the edge. Her back arches off the back, pressing her breasts into Eddie’s chest, and she lets out the most beautiful moans that Eddie’s ever heard as the wave of pleasure crashes over her. 

The clenching of her already tight pussy around Eddie’s cock has him spilling into her seconds later. His thrusts are sloppy and desperate, but it sends a warm pleasant feeling over Harley as she comes down from her high. 

Once Eddie is spent, he rests his forehead against hers. The face paint on both of them has smeared and smudged, now runny from sweat. They just gaze at one another as they attempt to catch their breaths.

“God, that was good.” She finally breaks the silence. 

“So fucking good,” Eddie agrees. He leans down and presses another kiss to her lips before rolling to the side and plopping down next to her. 

There’s a silence between them that has the potential to turn awkward, but they turn their heads to look at one another at the same time, and they both burst out in laughter.

“Do I look as funny as you do?” Harley asks, reaching up and smearing some of the white paint on his cheek.

“I’m afraid so,” Eddie replies with a nod. 

“What a couple of clowns we are.”

Eddie snorts a laugh and brings his hands up to cover his face. When he pulls them away, they’re covered in white and red smears. Harley goes to lift her own hands to her face but stops halfway and lets out a soft squeal that turns into laughter.

“What? What is it?” Eddie asks.

She can’t stop laughing, so she turns her hands to show they’re now green from the coloring in his hair. 

“Oh damn,” Eddie says, starting to laugh himself. “I’d say we’re in need of a shower.”

Harley turns on her side to face him and props her head up on her elbow.

“The bathrooms in this dorm aren’t co-ed,” she says. “Buuuut I also know that no one really gives a shit.”

“Dr. Quinzel, are you proposing we shower together?” He widens his eyes in fake shock. 

“As long as you lend me something to wear afterwards, Puddin,” she croons, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. “I can’t exactly go around looking like this.”

“Looks good to me,” Eddie says with a smirk, which earns him a playful swat on the chest. “Even with the hat.”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m still wearing this thing,” she says with a laugh.

“May I?” Eddie gestures towards the jester cap.

“Go for it.”

Eddie undoes the strap that was holding the black and red hat in place and gently removes it from her head. He can’t help but give a goofy grin now that he sees every part of her—except the clear skin of her face. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mister J.”

After both clowns have shed their makeup and are squeaky clean, Eddie lends her an oversized hoodie and she pulls her panties back on. Eddie changes into a pair of pajamas he packed with him. 

He takes a step over to the bed now that he’s freshly dressed and winces when he sees the sheets. The navy-colored fabric is smeared with white face paint, red lipstick, and black eye makeup—not to mention other spots and stains that Eddie doesn’t even want to think about Dustin finding. 

He makes quick work of yanking all the bedding off and shoving it into Dustin’s hamper. Clean? Burn? Both? Eddie’s not sure, but he’s leaning towards the fiery option. If the situations were reversed, Eddie would not want to be sleeping on these sheets ever again. 

“Say, partner in crime.” Eddie sidles up next to her and wraps his arm around her waist. “Want to destroy some property with me? Quick question though…is it only arson if it’s a building or does it count for lighting anything ablaze?”

“We can just ask the cops when they arrest us,” she says with a shrug. “I’m sure they’ll know. Or maybe it’ll be Batman who gets us!”

The response makes Eddie chuckle. He leans in, cupping her clean, clear face in both hands and presses his lips against hers. The two of them get caught in the moment, mouths moving fervently, when there’s a voice outside the dorm door.

“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me. This asshole doesn’t get laid the entirety of high school, but now it happens in my room? God damn it, Munson. Stranded out in the hallway as Sherlock fucking Holmes. Just perfect.”

[gothamite-rambler]

Tim Drake, uncaffeinated and letting the intrusive thoughts talk.

Tim Drake: Pigs can eat human bones and are cannibalistic... They'll eat someone if they want, doesn't even need to be hunger based. One time a farmer fell into his pig pen while drunk all they found were his glasses. They can't digest hair and I think teeth... So if the issue ever arises and you can't find the body they've shaved the head and pulled the teeth.

Dick Grayson: ...

Jason Todd: Christ.

Damian Wayne (sits closer to Tim): Continue on.

Tim: There are pots that can fit a small person.

Damian: Pots that fit humans, all right.

Tim: Harley Quinn isn't necessarily insane, but she battles with finding true love due to men like the Joker.

Jason: Stop it!

Tim: Spinal fluid tastes like a mixture of bananas and a 9 volt battery. And I don’t want to talk about it.

Jason tossed his banana behind his back, losing his appetite.

Dick: Have you had coffee today?

Tim: The coffee maker is broke and I'm too tired to go out - I learned you can survive without a spleen, but you need medication... I should probably look into that.

Jason: Okay, I'm going to another part of the house.

Jason left disgusted. Dick followed behind him, speechless and confused. Damian patted Tim on the back.

Damian: You have 20% of my respect. In fact, I know where father keeps his secret coffee maker. Tell me more facts while we head there.

Tim (blinks surprised): Thanks dude, um sure banks are usually robbed on Friday.

Damien: I figured that, many peoples direct deposits hit on a Friday.

Tim: That is true, this might interest you, in the 18th century, a woman actually convinced doctors that she was giving birth to rabbits.

Damian: Get out, tell me more!

[papaya-twinks]

lando x reader where they go to a halloween party with matching costumes because they are going to pretend they are dating (they agreed to do this because an old schoolmate of the reader, who was in love with her, would be at the party and he used to be strange with her, kind of stalker)

The problem is that the reader can't stand Lando because she finds him very childish and immature, but he was the only one in her group of friends available to accompany her. What she doesn't know is that Lando has always been in love with her, but after he realized that she didn't like him that much, he started to irritate and provoke her as a way of not getting closer to her and ending up falling in love even more.

That night Lando can't hold back and ends up kissing the reader and fight with himself to not take things further but it ends up being too late since the reader gets turned on

spooky - l.n

Warnings: Angst, swearing, arguing, smut, 18+

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - spoky

You’d basically begged everyone in your friend group to go to the Halloween party with you, as you were dressed as Harley Quinn, and you needed a Joker. But every single time, you were met with a silly ‘no’. Except finally, you were forced to be with Lando.

And you couldn’t deny he looked downright hot with the white paint smeared on his face, the red paint done messily and his curls squeezed with green dye. Wow, he looked good. And you definitely saw how his gaze lingered on your half-exposed cleavage in the classic shirt.

“Couldn’t think of anything more unique?” he asked as he walked into the house beside you. “You agreed to it, Norris,” you pointed out, rolling your eyes as Lando swallowed down a snarky remark. “At least I’m not flashing everyone my tits,” he muttered under his breath.

“Excuse me?” you gasped, your eyes wide. You weren’t doing anything even remotely close to flashing your tits to anyone as Lando smirked and rolled his eyes. “Just shut up and be a good girl,” he flicked your chest gently, to the classic Harley Quinn line of ‘Daddy’s Lil Monster’.

You pushed down the small moan as you carried on with the party. And you did enjoy yourself, when suddenly, Lando pulled you up the stairs, ignoring the various couples making out on the stairs, as he pushed you into a room and shut the door.

“Can you not grind on every guy you see?” he asked, sensing you were drunk as you rolled your eyes. “I’m not,” you said, “let me hwve my fun,”. Lando was growing frustrated.

“I’m not, not letting you have fun,” Lando growled, “you just don’t need to be doing that with every guy!”. You groaned, pupils dilated as he began his lecture. “I’m not doing it with every guy, I’m sorry you’re such a loser of a guy, that all you do is-,”.

You were cut off promptly by Lando’s lips crashing to yours. “All I do is what, hm?” he asked, eyes narrowed, “I can fuck the shit out of you, is what I can do,” he ran a hand through his now green curls. You didn’t even protest.

“Shit,” you cursed as Lando pressed the throbbing tip of his cock to your covered clit, rubbing slowly, leaking the pre-cum over your outfit. You didn’t care, too focused and desperate for the man on top of you as you whined, clawing to strip your clothes off.

“Someone’s a little needy,” Lando sighed, pulling you under him by your thighs, one hand holding your chest down. “F-Fuck,” you gasped, his hips immediately snapping into yours. A thin layer of sweat lined Lando’s face, the white paint of his face dripping sown but he didn’t care. You were his priority.

He could feel you were close as you clenched round him, your moans loud and unfiltered as he pivoted into you, angling so his cock slammed into your g-spot every time. And just as you were about to cum…he pulled out. “I’m not having some little bitch act like a brat and then get to cum,” he said simply, walking out.

This man was gonna make you fucking beg.

[munson-blurbs]

Joker!Eddie Munson x Harley Quinn!Reader

Summary: You're a psychologist who has always done the right thing. Enter Eddie Munson, mandated to attend court-ordered counseling sessions, who has a devilish side you can't resist.

WC: 2.9k

Warnings: dark fic, loosely based on Joker and Harley's story, mention of drug dealing, mention of parental abandonment and death, murder, ex!Jason Carver/Harvey Dent, arson, power imbalance, allusions to smut

A/N: Before y'all say anything, I know that Joker and Harley have a toxic relationship. Eddie and Reader bring out the worst in each other, but this is *clears throat* FANFIC! So long live these fake toxic relationships. And big thank you to @corroded-hellfire for her help with the lore. Happy Halloween!

Divider credit to @saradika

Eddie Munson didn’t sit down once for the entire duration of his first session. 

Most of your clients opted for the couch. The more nervous ones sitting so close to the worn cushion’s edge that they nearly fell off, while the more experienced ones practically lounged as they recounted whatever horrors had occurred since their last session. 

Eddie paced back and forth, his Reeboks wearing a hole in the mildewed carpet, only pausing when he needed to light a cigarette. 

“I mean, this is bullshit.” He took a drag and exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Twenty fuckin’ years, I get shoved to the side, and now they think some shrink is gonna fix all my problems?”

‘They’ most likely referred to Chief Hopper, who had been the one to recommend Eddie receive court-mandated therapy instead of serving time in jail for possession with intent to distribute. The police chief had become soft ever since adopting that teenage daughter, which was probably why Eddie was in your dingy office rather than behind bars. 

Your gaze flicked over the tattoos on his arms, visible where he’d cut his shirt sleeves, and looked him in the eyes. “Have you been to therapy before, Eddie?”

He threw his head back and laughed so violently that you dropped your pen. Before you could reach for it, Eddie picked it up and placed it in your lap, his fingertips grazing the hem of your skirt. 

“After my dad got locked up for, oh, I dunno, the tenth time?” Eddie shook his head and laughed again, though this one was quieter. “My uncle took me to talk to some shrink. Turns out that my old man had actually stolen the guy’s car. Small fuckin’ world, huh?” He scratched at the nape of his neck. “Yeah, he told us never to come back. So we didn’t.”

Your heart broke for the child he once was, rejected by a therapist while coping with his father’s incarceration. “Where was your mother?” You asked softly. 

Eddie flicked some ash into the ashtray. “She’d been dead for a while at that point.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be.” His face lit up, smiling too hard to properly take another drag of his cigarette. “At least she didn’t have to deal with any of this shit. All she had to do was be worm food.”

The visual made your stomach turn, but Eddie was grinning. 

“Aww, c’mon, Sweetheart” he pouted jokingly, snuffing out his cigarette. “You gotta appreciate some dark humor once in a while.”

The nickname would have earned any other man a stern look, maybe even a warning for dismissal, but it felt so right coming from Eddie. 

“Do you use humor to cope?” 

He twisted a skull ring around his finger and walked over to where you sat before crouching down in front of you. 

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do here.” One hand found your knee, his nail catching on a run in your black tights. Eddie peered up at you, lips twisting into an unsettling smile. “But I’m not dealing because I’m sad or trying to fill a void left behind by my parents. I’m doing it to survive in this shithole.”

He rose then and resumed his pacing while he ranted. “We can sit here all goddamn day and talk about my daddy issues, or my mommy issues, or how the system failed poor Eddie Munson over and over and over. And maybe I’ll leave here feeling slightly less shitty about myself. But you know what that won’t do?” He didn’t wait for your response. “It won’t put food on the table or keep the lights on. It won’t stop the bank from taking my trailer. Greedy bastards.”

Only when you remained silent did Eddie glance over at you with his wide brown eyes, as though he’d just remembered his speech had an audience. “You can put all that in your notes. Show it to Chief Hopper, to the judge; I don’t care.”

You closed the marble notebook perched in your lap and capped your pen. “I’m not trying to fix you, Eddie,” you said. “I just want to know you.”

“No, you don’t.” Eddie huffed out a chuckle. “You wanna get inside my brain. You can’t help it. I’m an interesting guy.”

He was. You’d always been interested in understanding people; how they thought and how it affected their behaviors. It was why you chose a career in psychology. But Eddie had something beyond that—a magnetic pull that drew you in, no matter how many times you silently reminded yourself to maintain those professional boundaries. 

For the remaining twenty minutes of your session, you dug for as much information about Eddie as you could get. He played guitar, took six years to graduate high school because of an algebra teacher who was determined to flunk him, and kept a notebook of his own to plan Dungeons & Dragons campaigns.

If you didn’t have another client immediately after him, you would have let him keep talking. You clung to every word like a lifeline, noting the little mannerisms peppered into his personality. 

Eddie spoke with his hands and ran his fingers through his knotted curls when he was particularly agitated or passionate about a topic. His nose scrunched when he asked questions that required your approval. He’d lick his lips every so often, and his tongue poked out of his mouth when he was concentrating. Every movement was intoxicating.

Your next session was more of the same, though this time, Eddie actually sat down on the couch. He lit a cigarette before speaking, taking a drag and holding it out to you. 

You watched the smoke curl around his fingertips, beckoning you to accept his offer. It was wrong; sure, you could smoke during a session, but to share a cigarette with a client? You shouldn’t. You couldn’t. 

You did. 

“There ya go,” Eddie murmured under his breath, watching your chest rise with the inhale and fall with the exhale. “Sweetheart, ya gotta take the edge off once in a while. Do something that makes you smile.”

You cocked your head teasingly, holding the cigarette hostage for a moment longer. “Aren’t I supposed to be helping you?”

“We can help each other.” He plucked the cigarette from your grasp. “Watch.”

Your gaze stayed on his lips, full and slightly chapped from the bitter winter, as he inhaled deeply. He crooked a finger, and your body moved of its own volition to the spot beside him. 

His thumb pulled at your lower lip, a question he could already answer. His mouth found yours, not in a kiss, but just to transfer the smoke he’d been holding back; tobacco mixed with a subtle hint of spearmint. 

“How do you feel now?” Eddie hadn’t moved back, and you felt every word he spoke. 

All you could do was nod, focusing every ounce of energy on going back to your chair. The distance suddenly seemed too far; any distance from Eddie seemed too far. You wanted to be in his lap, sharing the remainder of that cigarette, drawing you in closer…

Swallowing your steadily building desire, you forced yourself to ask him a question that didn’t pertain to the way he tasted. “W-What was it like moving in with your uncle?”

Eddie laughed darkly, taking in your nervousness like he knew exactly how brainless he’d made you. “My uncle, huh? All right, I’ll bite” He stretched, revealing a thin trail of hair that started at his navel and dipped below the waist of his jeans. There was a sick gleam in his eyes when he caught you staring, but he said nothing about it.

He told you about a police officer dropping him off on Wayne Munson’s doorstep in the middle of the night after his father had been arrested. 

“Just me and a trash bag full of clothes that barely fit me,” he proclaimed. “Oh, and the headlice tagging along. Ended up having to shave these gorgeous locks.” He shook his head to exaggerate his point.

“That must’ve been really traumatic for you.” You tapped your pen on your notebook absently, somewhat aware that you should be writing this information down, but not able to look away from him.

Eddie shrugged. “Not really. It grew back.”

“I meant…never mind.” You tucked your lips into your mouth to stifle a giggle.

He looked as though he wanted to say something, but your actions distracted him.

“Don’t hide your smile.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, letting you feel the gravity saturating his words. “Makes me happy when you smile.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was laughing at you.”

He clicked his tongue in mock sympathy, like he pitied you. It was a gesture you were unused to seeing from your clients. “You wouldn’t be the first, Sweetheart.” Eddie sat forward. “You might have been the first to feel bad about it, though.”

Over the following weeks, your sessions with Eddie followed the same routine. You would ask him questions and he would answer them cryptically. Shared cigarettes became more frequent as you convinced yourself it was good for building rapport.

In the early days of spring, where winter’s chill still peeked in each morning, Eddie opened the door to your office and found you crying in your chair. Most clients waited for you to get them from the waiting room, but he always let himself in.

The moment you heard the hinges creaking, you swiped at the tears dampening your cheeks. Embarrassment flooded your veins and heated you from the inside out at the thought of him seeing you in such a vulnerable state.

He was at your side in a heartbeat, reaching for the tissue box you kept on your bookshelf. “What’s wrong?” There was venom in his tone, ready to bite at a moment’s notice.

“N-Nothing,” you lied clumsily, convincing neither him nor yourself. “Just a bad day.”

Eddie gritted his teeth. “Don’t fuckin’ do that, Sweetheart.” He grabbed your chin and brought your full attention with it. “Don’t fuckin’ lie to me. Not when I’ve been honest with you.”

The story spilled out before you could think better of it: You’d woken up that morning to your ex-boyfriend banging on your front door, screaming to let you in, his slurred words informing you that he was drunk. Calling the police would be futile; he was buddies with the whole department and more than likely had them in his back pocket. All you could think to do in that moment was hide under your covers until he eventually gave up and left.

Eddie tensed, never losing his grip on you. “Did he hurt you?” His breathing quickened, fight-or-flight activated. “I swear to God, Sweetheart, if he put his hands on you–”

“No,” you hurriedly assured him. “No, he just scared me. But Jason’s never–” Your eyes widened when you said his name aloud; all at once, you realized your error.

“Jason…Carver?” Eddie’s eyes narrowed. “The hell were you doing with an asshole like him?” He shook his head before you could answer. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter. All that matters is that he never bothers you again.” Rage flashed in his eyes. “Just say the word, and I’ll do it.”

You furrowed your brows. “What do you mean?” There was no way…he wouldn’t…

He crossed his arms over his chest, obscuring the view of the devil on his shirt. “Do you remember a few years ago when Harrington Enterprises was planning to shut down the plant to build those luxury condos?”

You nodded, wondering where he was going with this. Warren Harrington had all but signed on the dotted lines, but he’d been murdered in his own home before he closed the deal. Rumor had it that his own son, Steve, had orchestrated it in order to gain control of the family fortune. An investigation came up without any suspects, and the plant remained open. 

“If they had their way, my uncle and all of his buddies would be out of a job, and then they’d lose their cars, their homes…well, you know how it goes.” Eddie smirked. “So I did what I had to do to stop that from happening.”

“You…” you lowered your voice in case anyone was listening in, “you killed Warren Harrington?”

He bristled preemptively, only relaxing when he didn’t detect any  judgment. “I’d do anything to protect the people I love.” Eddie’s palms cupped your cheeks, the calluses scratching at your skin. “I’ll kill Carver if it’ll keep you safe, Sweetheart. You won’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Everything about this was wrong. He was threatening to commit homicide for you because he loved you. 

You needed to stop this. It had gone too far. And yet you couldn’t, not when he was pleading to let him take care of you. All of your career, all of your life, you had been expected to clean up everyone else’s messes. You were the one who fixed other people’s mistakes, who solved their problems. To lift that burden from your shoulders, to let someone else take it on…

“I love you, too, Eddie.” You reached out and took his steady hands in your trembling ones. “I love you so much.”

“Okay. Good.” Eddie sighed deeply, leaning in and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. There was a flicker of amusement when he pulled back and saw the concern on your face. “C’mon, baby. You should be happy. Here.” He reached behind your chair and grabbed your bag, rummaged through it. Deft fingers uncapped your ruby red lipstick and drew a Black Dahlia smile on his lips, extending from one clean-shaven cheek to the other. “Now, close your eyes.”

You did as he asked, placing full trust in him. You expected him to draw a similar smile on you; instead, he pressed his mouth to yours, transferring some of the makeup to your face.

The words I love you kept falling from your lips, muffled only by the hungry kisses you eagerly gave and accepted. Zippers were unfastened, buttons undone, clothes strewn across your office floor. For a moment, the only sounds were the soft moans and panting breaths that punctuated the silence. It was love, and it was perfect.

It all happened so fast.

You woke up the next morning to sirens blaring down the street, a never-ending parade of noise and flashing lights. There was no way Eddie had already done something to Jason; you’d just talked about it yesterday. Killing one of Hawkins’ most beloved citizens would certainly take more than twelve hours of deliberation.

If Eddie had struck, he wouldn’t have been able to escape unnoticed. 

Black smoke billowed from one of the Loch Nora mansions, visible even in the less wealthy parts of town. You could hear your neighbors clamoring, and the consensus was that it was the Carver house that was burning to the ground.

You drove straight to the county jail, not even stopping off at work or letting them know you wouldn’t be in. The fear of being reprimanded paled in comparison to Eddie’s fate.

Flashing your government ID, you bolted through the doors and blew past the guards. Sure enough, Eddie Munson sat behind the bars of a cell, head in his beautiful hands. The same hands that had touched you just yesterday, fumbling with the tiny buttons of your blouse. The man who was larger than life during your sessions suddenly seemed so small.

“Puddin’?” 

Eddie glanced up when he heard the nickname you’d given him. “Baby, I…I didn’t kill him. I tried, but he got out. Forgot that rich people have those smoke detector things,” he added with a wry smile. It was then that you saw that his mouth was still stained with remnants of your lipstick. “But when he ran out of the house it looked like half of his face had burned off.”

Of course he’d stuck around to see the aftermath of his destruction.

“We can talk about this later. Okay?” You lowered your voice to a whisper. “We’re getting out of town. And we’re never coming back. I’m gonna tell the guards that I’m taking you out for a therapy session. Just follow my lead.”

Eddie was uncharacteristically quiet, so much so that you worried the guards might apprehend him because he wasn’t talking. Their narrowed eyes followed you and Eddie until you exited the building.

“My girl is a natural-born deceiver.” Eddie laced his fingers with yours. “So proud.”

You laughed. “If they gave us any trouble, I might’ve had to knock them out with their own clubs.” When you started towards your sedan, Eddie tugged you in the opposite direction. “My car is–”

“Forget it. Leave it here.” His eyes scanned the parking lot. “We’ll take that one.” He clocked your confusion and let out a raucous laugh. “Al Munson may have been a deadbeat, but he did teach me one thing.”

You slipped your arm around his waist. “Looks like I have a lot to learn.” 

“It’s gonna be me and you against the world, baby.” Eddie pulled you closer and whispered in your ear. “We’re gonna knock ‘em dead.”

--

[sad-drake-lyrics]

what my 65yo father has to say about antis:

let me preface this by saying, i literally wish i had what just happened on video to go viral on TikTok. i was shook by this conversation down to my bones; and if you could see my father - a loud old Italian man with dramatic hand gestures - say what he had to say, i think this shit would blow up. but as i was obviously not filming him while we were eating, i will have to relay to you the story with my words.

so i'm sitting eating dinner at the coffee table with my father while watching TV, as Americans often do instead of eating at the dinner table, and since the news was on he started telling me this story that had been recently mentioned on TV once again from maybe ten years ago (it was in 2014, you can read about it here) where these two 12-year-old girls killed one of their friends as a sacrifice to the Slender Man. yeah, real thing. fucked up.

and so my father told me about how they interviewed one of the killer's mothers, and when questioned about where her daughter's motive could've come from, she said something along the lines of: you know, when i was a kid, i was into Stephen King and horror - and so when my kid was into that kind of stuff, i didn’t think it was a big deal.

so, of course, my response was "yeah, being into that stuff isn’t a big deal at all - it's normal - but being a sociopath and murdering someone is not normal; it's fucked up. but there's nothing wrong with being into horror stories - they're just stories meant to entertain - it doesn't make you a murderer to enjoy Halloween - but it would if you put on a Michael Myers mask and went out and stabbed people." and, of course, like any sane person, my father agreed with me.

then, continuing this line of conversation, i started talking about the concept of how "fiction isn’t reality," and how a frightening amount of people don't understand that; and i literally started telling him about antis - people on the internet who attack and harass others over "problematic" or "inappropriate" fictional interests.

i used well-known pop culture examples like: if you're into Game of Thrones and like Jaime and Cersei together or wanted Jon and Daenerys to end up together (i didn't think he would process the term "shipping," but clearly by the end of this conversation i think i was wrong), that people (antis) will say things like "you should die," and that you "support inc*st in real life," and that "you're disgusting."

i also used the examples of "toxic relationships" in pop culture, like the Joker and Harley Quinn, or Kylo Ren and Rey, and how if you’re into those kinds of fictional relationships that people (antis) will say that you "support toxic relationships," and that you are "glorifying abuse," and that it all "must be what you really want and believe is right or good."

and my fucking 65-year-old father literally goes: "I don’t understand. It’s a TV show. Don't they know it’s fake?"

queue my jaw dropping to the fucking ground because i'm like. YES. THAT'S EXACTLY WHAT PRO-SHIPPERS ARE TRYING TO SAY AND THESE PEOPLE DON'T GET IT.

he was flabbergasted, my pals. the shock in his eyes was incredible to behold.

and, oh boy, that isn't even the best part, guys.

my father then says, "Don’t tell me it’s like that with anime too?"

and i said, "it's worse with anime."

and i fucking swear to you - no joke, on my life and baby Jesus' cradle - again my 65-year-old father looks at me and says, “It’s a fucken cartoon."

... ... ...

... i can't ...

i can't end this post better than that.

[ornii]

|| My Kind of Crazy ||

Harley Quinn X Male Reader

So after Binge Watching Barbie, rewatching Suicide Squad, Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn), don’t forget that part, and The Suicide Squad, my appreciation For Morgot Robbie has increased more than it already has. Adore her. So, here’s part one of ?

(Any Tags I forgot please let me know.)

The Stench of rotting carpet, old wood and the tinge of blood was in the air. But this was all a part of the plan. Inside that old decrepit apartment you had your pistol Aimed at a man standing before you, Batman. Yes, The, Batman. A series of choices lead to this moment, but it wasn’t always like this. You were his Robin, his Boy wonder. Now you’re the shadow hiding within Gotham. Your foot was placed on the chest of another man, who’s cold and chilling laugher echoes though the room, Joker. It was on this same day, that you were Abducted; tortured, and subsequently Killed by the Very man. A Trip in the Lazuras pit changed you for the worst. But to your surprise after your revival, Joker was still alive, and Batman hadn’t sunk revenge for your murder, and all you could ask was…

“Why?” You as under your Helmet.. “Why him?” You said, Batman was stoic, silent.

“Who are you..?” He grumbles, his voice modulated to avoid detection, “You don’t know? I’m hurt.” You say with much sarcasm, you grip your helmet and tear it off, showing your face to Batman, even with the small J scar under your eye, it’s obvious who you were. Out of all the people he thought, he never expected his old Sidekick..

To be under the Red Hood.

Jokers eyes lock with the scar and he laughs much harder.

“Wow, now THAT, is funny!” He has his grilled toothy grin, and you placed your foot higher right on his throat. The wheezing laughter continues slowly.

“You don’t get to talk.” You growl at him, and then turnt your attention back to Batman.

“You know, I forgive you for not saving me, you can’t save everyone. But why, why is HE still alive?!” You scream, the rage and trauma building up in you finally. “After everything he’s done, he’s crippled, broken, murdered people! Why, why is he still here?!”

“You don’t understand… you never understood.” He said to you, and you scoff.

“What? That you can’t do it? That you don’t have the spine to! It’s too hard isn’t it?” You ask, Bruce shakes his head.

“No, I know it’s easy, he deserves to die a thousand times over, but if I killed him, i wouldn’t stop myself… I’d justify it, then I’d justify killing someone else, and it’ll keep going.. and I’ll sink further, and further into the dark.” Bruce said, you shook your head.

“You can’t control yourself… I’m not talking about Dent, or Penguin, Even Harley!” You toss the gun, Bruce instinctively catches it but, obviously isn’t capable of holding a gun.

“Do it, shoot him. Kill one, and save millions of lives… you’re the Batman right! You save people, don’t you? So save them! And kill him!” You demand, Bruce stares at you, both of you unwavering in your convictions. But he simply dropped the gun.

“No… I’m sorry, (Y/n).” He said in a solemn whisper.

“Fine!” You yell, revealing one last trick up your sleeve. an explosive set in the entire apartment block, revealing the dead man’s switch in your other hand. Joker laughs as he looks around it all beeping. He turns to Batman, and just smiles

“You, you found a way to win! But to lose everything! AHAHAHAHAHA—“ he laughs, reveling in the chaos as you let go of the switch, Batman made a choice, and now all three of you had to live with it, and in a flash, an explosion, it all faded to black for you.

You’ve been playing that in your mind for the past year you’ve been in Belle Reeve. Sitting in your orange room, captive. The 4x4 room kept you isolated, only for a bang at the door.

“Inmate. You’ve got a visitor! Stand up, face the wall.” He yells, you weren’t keen to listen to others. You stood up, facing the door, cracking your neck.

“Any of your men step in, I’m sending ten of them to the ICU.” You said, very calmly, the door opens and they rush in, training with the Batman made fighting multiple enemies a breeze, punches, kicks and knees flew all though the room as you delivered counters, combos and ruthless tactics. But all fun even came at an end as you were apprehended and locked into a chair. Struggling like a dog you strained to get out, you were wheels around Belle Reeve as you see eleven stretchers head to your cell.

“Told you..” you mutter, struggling in the binds. Being wheeled into an interrogation room, you kept your lips purse until you saw your visitor, she wore a women’s suit and skirt, her eyes deep brown like mud drowning you in muck. Amanda Waller. You looked around and saw that the room was being monitored by a single camera. She gave one officer the nod and he presses a button, the red light on the camera fades off.

“You’re not as scary as I expected.” She said, holding a file she sat down across from you. You knew about Waller, working with the Batman gave you some intel on contacts. And she was the nastiest one of all.

“Waller?” You ask.

“In the flesh.” She responded and opened your file, reading it off.

“(Y/n) Todd, Father was a factory worker, died due to Gang related activity. Mother was an addict, died years ago, leaving you alone, but you see.. that’s where it ends, as if you faded off the planet of the earth. Until you resurface a year later.” She said, all of that was true.

“What’s your point?” You ask. And she reads off another page.

“Peak Physical fitness, durability, speed, Agility, Strenght. Master Of Arms and a Genius level intellect… you are a dangerous and powerful individual, so I’m offering you a chance to cut your sentence down..” she offers

“You’re bluffing..” you struggle in the binds more, but Waller keeps her dead stare.

“Do I look like I’m bluffing?” She said, you stop and she looks you in the eye. “you complete your task, you get years off your sentence, you fail.. you die. Fairly simple.” She said, a million thoughts raced though your mind, but one did.

“Get out, Find Joker.. Kill, Joker.”

“…Im in.” You said, Waller takes her file and closes it. “Good, get his bomb in and relay with the others.” She says, your attitude shifts pretty quickly, “bomb?” You ask, “What do you mean bomb?!” You yell, but nobody said anything, being wheeled away you were held down by officers and a needle injected right into the base of your skull. Granted it wasn’t the worse thing that’s been done to you, still hurt. Finally reaching the breaking point you were wheeled outside, the sun finally hitting your skin and you found yourself surrounded by soldiers, many wounded, others preparing for what seems to be a war.

You turn your head left to spot someone you know too well, Deadshot. Seems he was also canned to Belle Reeve, and to your left was a woman you knew too well, Harley Quinn, also a prisoner. Your blood began to boil even more than before and you were ready to throttle her, but with all these soldiers here, you doubt you’d be able to do it without getting filled with lead. So you bid your time as any Hunter would. A Soldier approached them, and looked them up and down.

“Unlock 'em.” He orders, the soldiers obliged and your restraints are removed, you sit up from yoyr bindings and look further down your line. You even spot Killer Croc, in all his, Lizardy goodness. Harley Stretches and keeps her off putting smile. Closest to Harley was a man adorned with Tattoos, ElDiablo was his name, you heard a few reports about him from Batman.

“Mmm! Hi, boys! Harley Quinn. How do you do?” She said, obviously no one said anything. It was dead silence until she looks around. “Huh? What was that? I should kill everyone and escape? Sorry. It's the voices…” she said, but laughs, “I'm kidding! Jeez!…That's not what they really said.”

The soldiers aren’t done assembling their Squad, more soldiers drag over a sack that’s fighting pretty furiously.

“What do we got here? Twelve pounds of shit in a 10-pound sack. Welcome to the party, Captain Boomerang.” He watches them cut it open, Captain immediately swings on the first person he sees. The Soldiers pin him to a wall.

“Hey, what's going on, man? Hey, one minute I'm playing Mahjong with me nanna, then this red streak hits me outta nowhere.” Boomerang pleads.

“Shut up! You were caught robbing a diamond exchange.”

“I was not!”

He Totally Was.

There was one last member, Slipknot, the man who could climb anything, which was an odd ability set, it nonetheless he was here. The man before them all was Colonel Rick Flag.

“Listen up! In your necks, injection you got, it's a nanite explosive. It's the size of a rice grain, but it's powerful as a hand grenade. You disobey me, you die. You try to escape, you die. You otherwise irritate or vex me, and guess what? You die.” He says, which throws a wrench in your plans to escape, Harley obnoxiously puts her hand up.

“I'm known to be quite vexing. I'm just forewarning you.”

“Lady, shut up!” Flag yells, and then composed himself, “This is the deal. You're going somewhere very bad, to do something that'll get you killed. But until that happens, - you're my problem.” He explains, Deadshot looks him up and down.

“Mmm. So was that like a, uh, pep talk?” He asks.

“Yeah. That was a pep talk. There's your shit. Grab what you need for a fight. We're wheels up in 10.” He said, crates of gear was brought in for you and your “Teammates.”

“You might wanna work on your team motivation thing. You heard of Phil Jackson? He's like the gold standard, okay? Triangle, bitch. Study.” Deadshot, with those very inspiring words to flag suits up with everyone. You open your crate to see the old gear you had, still in damn good condition, and you suit up, Your body armor and jacket lined with shuriken, explosives and throwing knives, a combat knife strapped to your leg. Twin M1911 Dual Handguns, mint condition. And your helmet, still holding one scar on it, you take the helmet out of its case and stare at it. Your eyes waver for a moment to your other teammates, everyone seems to have some dumb gimmick, but your eyes dressed down Harley, not by your choice of course, you’ve been cramped in a hole for nearly a year, and the first woman you see was stripping down in front of you. An urge came over you and you knew exactly what it was, she finally gets her shirt on and sees almost every guy staring.

“What?” She said, they all quickly go back to doing what they were supposed to do, you as well, pushing those feelings down. You keep looking at your mask, Deadshot does the same thing with his.

“What? Won't fit anymore? Too much junk in the trunk?” Harley said to him.

“Nah. Every time I put this on, somebody dies.” He tried to shake it off, but couldn’t that.. this wouldn’t be a normal contracts

“And?” Harley said.

“I like putting it on.” He admits, she smirks and grabs her mallet, “Goody. Somethin' tells me a whole lotta people are about to die!” She sounds so giddy.

“Yeah. It's us. We're being led to our deaths.” Diablo said.

“I don’t plan on it.” You said, looking down the barrels of one of your 1911’s.

“You know something we don’t Mate?” Boomerang asks, “No.” You reply. “I just don’t plan on dying again.” You mutter.

“What you a zombie or something?” Deadshot looks unimpressed. “Something like that… point is; Been dead, done that… I plan on getting out of here..” you say, and turn to Harley.

“I’ve got business to take care of.” You made your claim pretty obvious but it didn’t matter to you, escape is the only plan, and getting this explosive disabled. “You don’t seem to giddy like these guys..” you ask El Diablo, “I’m not here to hurt anyone man.” He said. Deadshot was the first to let them all know.

“Y'all might wanna leave old boy alone. He could torch this whole joint. Ain't that right, ese?” He looks at Diablo, who calmly shows his hands, flames emitting from them, but low ones:

“Ain't got nothing to worry about from me. I'm cool, homie.” He says, Flag returns to them, holding a tablet with Amanda on screen.

“Behold the voice of God.” He said, and she gives them the rundown. “For those of you who don't know me officially, my name is Amanda Waller. There's an active terrorist event in Midway City. I want you to enter the city, rescue HVT-1, and get them to safety.” She orders.

“I'm sorry. Uh... For those of us who don't speak good guy, what is HVT-1?” Deadshot asks.

“HVT.. High Value Target.” You say, “It’s like a bounty, Basically a rescue mission.” You explain, Deadshot nods, admitting you made it sound much less cool. “The only person that matters in the city, the one person you can't kill. Complete the mission, you get time off your prison sentence. Fail the mission, you die. Anything happens to Colonel Flag, I'll kill every single one of you. Remember, I'm watching. I see everything.” Waller ends the communication and Flag turns to Deadshot

There's your pep talk.”

“Compared to your shit, she killed it. So that's it? What, we some kind of Suicide Squad?” He asks, Flag ignores his question and leaves.

“I'll notify your next of kin. Alpha, Bravo team. Mount up!” He orders, you look around to the team you’ll be forced to work with. All of them, criminals in their own right, but for now they’re the thing between success, or all of you dying painful deaths. You put on your helmet and the detective mode still works, turning it off. You load your guns and walk to the helicopter.

Task Force X, has been activated.

[hana-no-seiiki]

I’ve been stuck on this idea. Jinx reader with the batfam…I know you had it in your master list and I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Maybe when the reader was little, they doodled and made little trinkets like powder. So I’m thinking that the reader doodled on batmans tools. Kinda like how powder/jinx made their weapons with faces on them.

So maybe Batman and the rest of the boys were gone and reader snuck into the bar cave and started doodling on their masks and weapons.

And just another thought 😅

When reader is older, they become a vigilante, causing chaos for the fun of it but also doing it for good. They also move out when they were a kid, because maybe Batman called then a jinx (I’m really going for the arcane storyline 😭😭😭)

Maybe the batfam tries to bring her back, but she just kinda runs away laughing while throwing glitter bombs 😭😭😭

Just something I thought of

I don’t usually write reader as childhood friends with the guys here unless it’s cat villain (which is more like childhood rivals) so this is quite the change.

In my og storyline which i have semi spoiled and will spoil some more here : Jason and Jinx! Reader were part of a found family and Jason having a massive crush on reader gave them tools to make explosives they really shouldnt have. Which is kind of poetic knowing how he ‘dies’.

I’m not sure if this ask is platonic or romantic so I’ll just go with my preference, the latter.

this is just a little snippet since i started working on jinx reader again huhu wanna save the juicy stuff for that one

Jinx! Reader was known as the runt of the litter among Bruce’s adopted children. Physically weak, above average in smarts but nothing compared to the rest. The only thing they had going for them was their skill with firearms which Bruce heavily discouraged and admonished the practice of.

Jason and you bonded with rebelling against him. He’d often bring you out to abandoned arcades that you two would repair from scraps you found in the Batcave. Dude was down atrocious. He kept bringing you to missions purely because he couldn’t resist your face. Sure he was snarky at times, but your common upbringing made him more soft around you. (Sometimes he purposely puts you in situations where you’d get caught just so he can ‘save’ you. The way you hold unto him for dear life is…simply exhilarating)

But try as he might, he could never fill the hole you had in your heart. Your desire for a complete family. For validation. For Bruce to finally acknowledge your worth. For Damian to stop calling you a fucking waste of space.

You ended up screwing a mission so badly that you indirectly killed dozens of Gotham citizens.

Usually you would just compromise their positions during patrols but this was… this was something irreversible. Something that affected friends, families, actual living breathing people.

Bruce had a tight cap on his emotions, but he just couldn’t stop himself from taking out his anger, grief and frustration out on you.

Dick and Jason managed to pull him back before he could hurt you beyond a punch to the face, but the psychological damage had already been cemented.

You run away, running into Harley Quinn.

But instead of following the path my og jinx reader did, Joker wasn’t there to fuck with your head even further. So you sought to repay for your sins.

Still, the screams. The way Bruce called you useless, a jinx. The memories of being neglected and inferior.

Sometimes chaos was the only way to make it shut up.

[harknessxo]

♢ Crazy

Paring: Harley Quinn x psychiatrist!reader

Summary: You were assigned to be Harley Quinn's new psychiatrist and things take a turn.

Warnings; darkish, smut, kidnapping,

Word Count: 2.0k

A/n: Nothing…

You were known as Dr. L/n. You were the greatest psychiatrist in Gotham. Recently you were given the offer to treat the famous Harley Quinn. You accepted, of course, you loved a challenge.

“Be careful, she is crazier than you think and not many people have come out alive.”

“Oh, I know. I’m willing to take the risk.”

They opened the door for you and you went in. You looked around the room. The paint on the walls was falling off, there was a metal table in the middle with two chairs. You found Harley huddled up in the corner of the dull room. You hear her distant mumbling from where you stood. You walked closer but not too close, you didn’t want to scare her off.

“Hey Harley, my name is Dr. L/n, your new psychiatrist,” you say softly not to startle her. She slowly lifted her head to look at you. You were met with her icy blue gaze. Her eyes screamed ‘crazy’, but there was something more underneath that, almost a hint of curiosity. She was in a straightjacket for your and her protection.

“Why don’t we sit over there and we can start?” you carefully said pointing to the chairs in the middle of the room. Her gaze followed your finger, then she gave a single nod. You walked closer to try and help her but she made a gesture to try and bite you and you jumped away from her. She started to laugh hysterically.

“I bite, doctor,” she said with a wicked smile. You should’ve known she would do something like that. You took a deep breath and collected yourself.

“Can you get up by yourself then?”

She pushed herself against the wall and started to get up herself. She plopped herself in the chair and you did the same. You looked over at her and she was still looking at you with a mischievous expression.

“Why don’t we start with a simple question? How are you feeling?” You knew it was a dumb question but you had to start somewhere. She just stared at you and started to giggle.

“You know the voices usually tell me to kill anyone that stands in front of me but not right now,” she said while tilting her head to the side.

“So, you hear voices that tell you what to do?”

“Not all the time. Sometimes it’s just me doing what I want.”

“Are you hearing voices right now?”

“No. Wait, yes! Actually no.”

“Okay, well is there anything in particular that stop the voices?”

“Not really they talk when they wanna talk, ya know?”

“Do you think your relationship with Joker caused the voices to begin?” Her eyes darken.

“DO YOU EVER MENTION THAT MAN EVER AGAIN!” She yelled getting up from her chair.

“Hey, Harley, it's ok! I won’t ask about him again, okay? I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Please sit down.” She huffed but obeyed your request.

You continued with the session but you didn’t get much out of her. She kept looking around the room humming to herself. She also kept looking at you up and down from time to time. In the end, you thanked her for cooperating and left.

The guard seemed surprised when you walked out of the room without a scratch. You walked back to your car with an uneasy feeling about Harley. Not a bad feeling but something you shouldn’t feel for a patient, even less someone like Harley Quinn.

🃃🃟🃃🃟

The sessions kept getting more frequent by Harley’s request surprisingly. She talked more and at some points, she seemed like a normal person but the glint in her eyes would always come back. Each session she got more flirty and charming towards you.

You, of course, tried your best to ignore it but you would find yourself thinking back to the things she would say in your alone time. If you kept this up, you were going to lose your job.

You were now going through security again to see Harley. When you opened the door to where the session was being held, you were met with a bruised Harley.

“Oh my god! What happened to you?!” Out of worry, you gently held her face with your hand to get a closer look.

“Some guy tried to take my lunch so I punched him and he punched me back,” she shrugged, her eyes tracing every detail on your face.

“Are you gonna kiss me doctor?” she got closer to your face until her lips hovered over yours and for some reason, you didn’t back away. After a few seconds of staring at each other, she finally kissed you. You froze at first but returned the kiss.

You brought your other hand to cup her face being careful not to put too much pressure on the bruised side of her face. So many thoughts ran through your head in that moment. Her lips are so soft. She is so beautiful. What if someone walks in? When you thought of that, you immediately pulled away.

“We can’t do this Harley, I could lose my job.”

“Get me out of here then.”

“You know I can't do that. I'm sorry but I'm going to have to end this here before it gets any further.”

“Y/n don’t do this,” she pleaded.

“I'm sorry Harley, but this is going to be our last session.” You gathered your things and knocked on the door for the guards to let you out. Once they opened it, you looked at her one last time before leaving.

🃃🃟🃃🃟

Harley sat in her cell thinking of you. How could you leave her like that? She wasn’t going to give up that easily though. She was going to do anything to get you back. But first, she needed to escape from the asylum.

🃃🃟🃃🃟

You sat in your office doing a patient's paperwork when your secretary barged into your office.

“Evelyn, what’s wrong?”

“Turn on the news, now!”

You quickly grabbed your office TV remote. When you turned it on and looked for the news channel and turned up the volume.

“Breaking news. Harleen Quinzel or better known as Harley Quinn has escaped the Arkham Asylum. Please be on the lookout for her. If you see her, call the number on the screen.”

Your heart dropped. Did she do this to get to you? How would you face her? Evelyn turned off the TV before turning to you.

“I think you should stay at home for a few days. At least until they get her just to be safe. I can clear your schedule if you’d like?”

“I think that’s a good idea. Thank you so much, Evelyn.” You gathered your things and headed home.

When you finally got home, you parked your car in your garage before making your way inside your house. You unlocked your door and walked in. You took off your shoes, placed your things on the counter, and made your way upstairs.

When you walked into your room, you noticed your window was open, which was weird since you always close your windows. When you tried to close it someone came from behind you and put a cloth over your mouth. You began to struggle to get away from the person’s grip.

“Shh sh sh, just breathe in for me doctor. We can finally be together now.” That was the last thing you heard before losing consciousness.

🃃🃟🃃🃟

When you woke up you noticed that you weren’t in your bed or your room. Flashbacks from the night before started to flow through your mind. Somehow you didn’t feel the presence of Harley sitting in the dark corner of the room.

“You’re finally awake!” she said coming out of the dark. You whipped your head towards her.

“Harley…” You just stared at her as she slowly walked towards the bed you were lying on, “Harley, where are we?” you asked carefully.

“You don’t have to worry about that now doctor, we can finally be together,” she smiled, sitting next to you.

“Harley, all of Gotham is looking for you. You have to let me go okay?”

“Of course, we can still be together. They are never going to find us here.”

“What about me?! My job?! My life?!” you got off of the bed and started to tear up.

“You can start a new life with me in this house, you don’t have to worry, I'll take care of everything.” She came closer to you and brought you into a hug, petting your hair. You wanted to back away from her but your body didn’t let you.

“Relax Y/n. Everything is going to be just fine.” She pulled away and cupped your face like you did before leaving her in the asylum. She brought you into a soft kiss in which you gave in. Slowly, she guided you back to the bed until the back of your knees hit the side of the bed. She softly pushed you onto the bed and straddled your hips.

You wanted to protest but she just shushed you with a kiss. She began to take your clothes off, item after item until you were completely bare before her. She kissed down your neck to your collarbone, leaving a trail of love bites in her wake. She placed her thigh in between yours and you started grinding against her.

“I couldn’t let you go that easily, doctor. You’re the only thing that stops the voices and for that, I'm going to make you feel so good just breathe for me okay?” She took off her clothes as well before moving her thigh away from your core. Without warning, she slipped her fingers into your pussy while sucking on your breasts.

“Harley!” you gasped, your hand coming up to cover your moans.

“No no no, I wanna hear you, baby,” she said, pinning your hands with her free hand. Eventually, her mouth joined her skilled fingers, sucking on your clit.

“Oh God!” you moaned loudly while grinding your hips against her face. You were getting closer to the edge but before you could get there, Harley stopped.

“Why’d you-”

“Shh, I’m gonna give you what you want just be patient.” She interlocked your legs so that her pussy was aligned with yours. She leaned down and pulled you into a passionate kiss before she started rubbing her pussy against yours. You both moaned from the pleasure that cursed through your bodies.

“You like that doctor? Does that feel good, baby?”

“Yes, yes! It feels so good, Harley. Please don’t stop.” She started going faster while still kissing you, all your moans going against her lips. Her movements started to get sloppy, letting you know she was close.

“Are you close, baby?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, unable to make coherent words.

“Come for me.” And you did.

“Harley!” You cried out when you reached your climax. Your hands gripping onto Harley’s back for support. You lied on the bed panting while Harley moved away, not before she rubbed her fingers in your wetness and brought them to your mouth.

“Open,” she commanded and you proceeded. You sucked her fingers clean, humming at the taste. She then licked your pussy clean before laying down on the bed next to you.

“You’re mine now and nothing will ever take you from me again,” she whispered into your ear before bringing your body closer to hers. You wanted to be scared of that sentence but it brought a sense of comfort that someone wanted you. She wanted you.

“I’m all yours,” you said into her ear. You felt her hold on you tighten a bit when you said that. She drew invisible circles against your arm until you fell asleep.

🃃🃟🃃🃟

[cornerstoreclown]

Helooo agaain :P this is not really a request (but feel free to write anything you want ) is more of a "how do you see this" i wanted to ask if you see Art capable of being vulnerable with the reader. Or even showing the itty bittiest amount of affection. I love to explore his character and not only read about the shallow exterior, but to explore a bit more than meets the eye yk? I feel like you capture that essence of him really well thats why i like your writing so much (sorry if i went off topic lol) bye bye 🫶🏻

Always glad to see you! And you truly have a way of flattering me. (It’s working 🙈❤️)

I do see Art as being capable of being vulnerable with the dear reader. I think that it really depends on their personality overall, but vulnerability with Art … It’s reminded me of a quote about Harley Quinn and Joker I read somewhere years ago in my teenage years.

Everyone’s seen the Joker laugh, only Harley has seen him cry. Now, I’m not saying Art has the capacity to cry, because I don’t think he has any functional tear ducts—crying here could be more figurative. Sadness does not always have to involve tears.

Everyone’s only ever seen Art smile and silently laugh. You have the privilege of seeing him when he’s not smiles. The reader has seen his other array of emotions that harken back to his humanity. Whenever he had it. Now how much of said humanity there was is up for debate.

And especially given the most recent movie? DHT believes that Art is now more dangerous than ever and I’m inclined to agree with him. Art is scared now. He’s now physically vulnerable. Our reader would get to see him scared. To the rest of the world he’s a cornered animal and willing to pull out all the stops to survive. And he will. But you’ve seen the fear in his eyes, that primal drive that lingers in every living creature that kickstarts us and fills us with the will and desire to live.

Affection with Art involves being able to share a space with him and not get your skull cracked in. I do see him as more on a grey ace spectrum as he’s primarily motivated by murder and mutilation, but you get intimacy every once in a blue moon. It’s not important to him compared to the joy and euphoria he gets in harming and eviscerating and killing others, but he’ll humor you—so as long as you’re okay with a little pain. Intimacy with him involves a bit of give and take. You can get some moments of tenderness and romance in exchange for your blood and pain and occasional suffering. It’s a very… sadomasochistic relationship and he’s going to drag you down into the deepest depths of hell with him. It’s about ruining you. He will literally be the end of you, but I suppose there’s something to be said for that level of devotion and love to jump for him, knowing what doom awaits you on the other side. You’re going to sacrifice every piece of yourself.

He’s a parasite who will devour you from the inside in the most thrilling, delicious, yet agonizing way possible. But at least he’s funny.

[happybunny999]

Yandere Batfam x neglected OP Meta outskirts reader and Ymir fritz

Part 2

-

Gotham was extremely different from the outskirts of me and Ymir’s hometown and we want to go back home pretty please.

Ymir hates the family with a burning passion and really wants to see them dead or hurt for how they treated us though the years since we are now 15 and nothing has changed at all we are still the afterthought to the family and it made Ymir very angry and she almost fought Jason and Damien when the two one separate occasions where caught by Ymir hurtling me and not leaving me alone and was grounded again by Bruce for our behavior while Jason and Damien were let off the hook as always it REALLY made her mad and Ymir yelled at Bruce while I stayed next to Ymir for comfort.

And when we were sent to our room Ymir had the idea to sneak out of the house from our guest room that we shared because we had no real room in this house and at first I thought I was a bad idea but went with Ymir anyway because I didn’t want to stay in the room alone and with the family so we left though the small window and to the streets of Gotham.

-

The streets of Gotham were dark and dangerous and full of criminals and villains and just the thought of it makes me scared and hold Ymir’s hand tighter as we walk down the street passing by people and alleyways

“Don’t worry reader we are going to fine” Ymir says to me with a smile on her face as we pass by some people giving us mean looks that made me nervous

“Ymir maybe we should head back this is scary and these people don’t look friendly “ I told Ymir with worry in my voice as I cling to her a little more then before as we kept walking around

“No way we are not going back home at least not yet we are going to have fun first and it’s not like they will notice that we are gone” she said dismissively as we walked into a game store to Ymir’s delight

“Come on let’s have some fun” Ymir smiled with glee

-

After some time me and Ymir are playing the arcade games and she is having the time of her life I never seen this happy since before our mother and stepdad’s death where Ymir was allowed to be mischievous and happy

But while we were having fun we hear a scream and people panicking which terrified me and I quickly alerted Ymir to what was happening and when we investigate it we saw it was the joker and Harley Quinn making a mess of the game place and it made Ymir mad and furious so she told me to make cloaks for us and I wanted to ask why but Ymir just said we need to help the people so I complied a created two black cloaks that we wore and it covered our faces too

Once we got close to the two villains they saw us and joker grins at us as he pointed his gun at us while I hide behind Ymir who had an angry expression on her face and her eyes started to glow red

“Get the fuck out of here you two” Ymir responded with a cold and intimidating voice that even made me scared but I should be use to her anger tone with something is not right at all

“Oh why so serious little ones “ joker laughs crazily while Harley smiles at us mockingly that didn’t go unnoticed by Ymir who hand her fist clenched and eyes red under the cloak

Without any hesitation Ymir runs at joker and Harley with great speed that take them both by surprise and just has joker tries to fire his gun at her. She is already in front of him and knocks the gun out his hand and pushes him back with a powerful force that sends him flying across the room and hitting the ground hard and as for Harley who had been standing there watching the whole thing and snapping out of pure shock she runs at Ymir ready to attack her but Ymir was also ready to her too and used the hardening ability on her knuckles and punches Harley hard, very hard in the face to a point where I could see blood from Harley mouth as she too is sent flying across the room landing just a few feet from joker who was still on the ground I check them cautiously and felt better that they were still alive but badly hurt as I walked back to Ymir and flu us back to the manor just as the police came to the scene and we both knew the rest of our ‘family’ would be here soon too

As we made it back to the manor we walked to the front door and past Alfred who we greeted with a smile and ran back to our guest bedroom and I check on Ymir to see if she was ok as I looked at her hand and saw it healing itself while Ymir was just smiling happily from what has happened as we called it a day and headed to bed for the night

meanwhile the police and batfam were confused and surprised when they got to the scene and saw both joker and Harley on the ground unconscious and hurt as they were being arrested and carried to the police car Batman examined the place and found pieces of crystal like parts on the ground and on Harley and told Tim and Barbara to test it and find out what it is with a stern and cold look on his face.

[gh0stly-pages]

Out of Our Minds (Part Four)

Ledger!Joker x Harley Quinn-esque f!reader (18+)

CW: swearing, mentions of blood

Words: 5.9k

Chapter Summary: More sessions pass and while you learn more about the Joker, the pull you feel towards him grows stronger. Yet this time, it feels like everything is starting to change...

Previous part: Part 3

Notes: We back, and things are really picking up this time. Hope this distracts everyone who might be going through a tough time right now. <3 Things really pick up in this one, and I'm already excited to drop the next part lol. Have fun with this one!

With every session your infatuation for the Joker only grows.

At first, you tell yourself it comes from your want (well, need) for him to progress, both for the sake of actually seeing him healed and for the sake of your survival. Then eventually, you think it comes from the fact that his mind truly is incomprehensible, and you want to know what’s going on inside of it, want to crack open his skull and see every gear. But now, you’re not even sure what it is exactly that keeps you feeling empty anytime you’re not in a session with the Joker. You don’t know what you’re chasing anymore. Everything is just one big mind fuck.

Slowly, the Joker becomes more and more human to you. Where others still see some kind of raving, homicidal madman, you see a person. 

As your sessions carry on, you tell him more things about you, and you learn more things about him. He likes junk food. He is skilled with almost every gun known to man. He owns over thirty blades. His sleep schedule is so all over the place that he doesn’t even know what day it is ever. He prefers nights over mornings. He drinks his coffee with lots of creamer. Every fact you’ve tucked away in your mind and you’re not sure for what.

You like it when he tells you something personal about himself, but he likes when you do it even more. “I was a gymnast for a long time,” you told him once, much to his surprise. Even you hadn’t expected to get into that part of your life. “I had to stop once I started going to school, just got too busy, but I was real good at it.”

“Gymnastics, huh?” He said, grinning, and you figured he must be imagining you, usually so rigid, flying through the air. It sounded like a joke. You were surprised he wasn’t laughing. “So, you’re pretty, ah, light on your feet?”

You smiled to yourself, thinking of all the memories. It had felt so nice to throw yourself into all that hard work. When you were flipping in the air, you felt free. “Guess you could say that. Certainly hasn’t come in handy though, in my line of work.”

“It may come in handy with mine. You’d probably make a good fighter, Doctor l/n.”

The thought of you fighting anyone made you laugh out loud. Have you thought about fighting people before? Of course. All your life people have hurt you and you wanted to hurt them back. But in the end, you had decided that wouldn’t do any good. Now, however, as you kept imagining it, the Joker appeared at your side, and you were winning this fight, him laughing maniacally beside you. It sent a sort of thrill through you. You didn’t like it. “Luckily, I’m not in your line of work.”

He had winked. “You can always change your mind.”

Alongside learning bits of things about him, he also taught you a few new skills, probably antsy to test them out considering he’s strapped to a bed most of the time. He (as best as he could still cuffed to a table) tried to teach you to pick a lock, how to get a perfect shot with a gun, how to rig up TNT. It was nothing you needed to know, nor anything you thought he should be thinking about, but you went along anyway because it was best he knew you were there to support his interests. As dark as they were…. You’d work on that. 

After your last session, you decided to bring something up to Mr. Dale.

“Doctor y/n, your progress has been very minimal,” he had commented as you walked up to him, before you could even open your mouth.

You frowned. “It’s the Joker, sir. It’s not going to move very fast-“

“Well, I am tired of waiting. The longer he sits in that cell I fear the worse he’ll get, and then what? He snaps and tries to kill us all?” He cleared his throat, adjusting his collar. You wanted to smack him. “Is there any way you could hurry up the process?”

Don’t rush me, was what you wanted to scream, but that wasn’t going to get you anywhere but kicked to the curb. “I do think I have an idea,” you said, trying to direct him to why you came up to him in the first place. “You need to let me bring in his makeup.”

Mr. Dale’s eyebrows shot up. And, of course, he began to laugh. If it weren’t for growing used to the Joker doing it so often, it would really piss you off. “You want to turn him back into a clown? Miss l/n, I fear that would only encourage him.”

“First off, it’s Doctor l/n,” you point out sternly. You’ve had enough of him treating you like less. If there’s another thing the Joker has taught you, it’s to not take shit from others. “And second, I want him to embrace himself. If he can be this clown persona he sees him as, we can take this persona and shape it so that it’s less… violent. Then, the makeup will no longer be something he associates with villainy. Please, Mr. Dale, I know what I’m talking about.”

You smiled wide as Mr. Dale’s face fell, absolutely shattered by your words. He wiped a few beads of sweat from his forehead. “Alright, Doctor l/n, I will allow it however if it ends badly-“

“It wont.” 

“You’re getting too comfortable. It’s his fault, I’m sure. I was right, he breaks people.”

You wish you could grab him by the collar and pull him close, but instead you settle on a deadly glare, looking him right in the eye. “I’m not broken. J isn’t broken.”

“Well, you’ve changed.”

You scoffed and turned away. “See you later, Mr. Dale.”

You have changed. You’re not sure if it’s for the better or not.

—————————

For your session, you walk in with a gentle smile, the tubes of makeup in your bag clinking together. You’re going to keep it a surprise, for later in the season. You’re not really sure why you feel giddy, but you do. It sort of outweighs your exhaustion, you’d run to the store late that night to pick up the same paints the Joker was said to have used. And when the guards finally let you in through the door, your smile grows even wider at the sight of the Joker, who is already smiling back at you. Not just because of the scars, it’s an actual smile. At first, his smiles had been menacing, but now you feel they’re actually kind of… nice. “Well, hello, doll face. So lovely to see you again.”

“Hiya, Mr. J,” you respond, taking your seat. “How are you doing today?”

“You know me, Doctor l/n, your presence puts me in a much better mood.” He props his chin up on his fist. “You look beautiful today.”

The past few sessions, Joker has certainly grown more flirty. It’s not something you’re a stranger to, the other patients have tried their hand at it, usually to try and get on your good side, but it’s different coming from Joker. You know he likes to rile you up, but you can’t help but feel the words are mostly genuine. “I look like this everyday,” you point out, not wanting to show him how his words affect you. 

“And you are, ah, beautiful everyday, doll.”

“Mr. J, refrain from flattery, please.”

He bows his head, pretending to be upset like a kicked puppy. “Oh, you’re no fun sometimes, Dr. l/n. You know I like to tease ya.”

“Some of the guards told me you’re allowed to roam around your cell now,” you say, trying to switch the subject before he can completely throw you off course. He’s good at that. “How are you liking that?”

“Hmmmm, well, I, ah, went from being stuck permanently standing in a small cell and now I can walk around the cell. Once you’ve walked it once you’ve, ah, seen it all.” He looks to one side of the room. “A wall there.” His head swerves to the other. “Oh, and one there too! What a surprise!” He chuckles to himself. Nothing makes Joker laugh more than his own nonsense. 

“So, not much better?”

Joker shakes his head. “Nah ah ah, not one bit. Can barely even make a ruckus too, the doors conceal all my banging and kicking and laughing. The guards can’t even get annoyed with me.”

You bite your cheek. “You really like being a nuisance, huh?”

“I do like to make people tick.” He wets his lips. “Especially pretty psychiatrists with sharp minds.”

Already, you can feel your cheeks warming. Embarrassment, that’s all it is. You, once again, try and take the conversation back to what you actually need to be in there for. “How about we get started, huh?”

Joker nods, smacking his lips together. Despite how much he licks them, they’re always chapped, the skin cracking. “What am I in for today? I feel we’ve talked about everything we possibly can.”

“And yet you’re no closer to getting out of here, are you?” You smirk at him as you bring out your clipboard. “I feel like I’ve been keeping it too light these past few sessions. I’ve learned a lot about you but you still won’t let me reach past the barrier.”

“What barrier?”

“The barrier between you and whoever you were before you became the Joker.”

His lips twist into a frown. Again, his past touches a nerve. “Dolly,” he warns, “I’ve told you, whatever came before doesn’t matter. I’ve always been the Joker. You won’t find anything past that.”

Once again, Joker is being a stubborn ass. As much as you enjoy talking with him, he also drives you nuts. “You’re saying your life started once Batman came to the scene?”

“He gave me purpose. What’s a joke without the punchline? Batman is the punchline.” 

“You were a child once, Joker.”

“Like most people, yes.”

“And how was your childhood?”

He ignores your question, grumbling as he stares at his cuffed wrists, rotating them as you sit there expectantly. You realize he’s not going to answer you and groan. So, he doesn’t want to dive into the past. You’re not going to force him. Prying was never the best way to go about things. You’d leave it alone again… for now. “Okay, sorry, Mr. J, we can move on. Is there anything that you’d like to talk about?”

Joker raises an eyebrow, not confused but suspicious. “You’re just gonna turn it into some kind of analysis moment, aren’t you?”

He knows me too well. “Well, that is my job. But no. Just, talk to me.” You hold your hands together, resting your chin on them. “About anything.”

“Hmmmm.” He looks like he’s having trouble thinking of something. “I’ve been thinking about Batman.”

“B-Man.” Of course. “What have you been thinking about him?”

“Those last moments I saw him, his expression. He looked so shattered.” You’re not really sure what he’s talking about, and you’re sure your face betrays this but he goes on anyway. “Oh, I’d live for a moment like that again. Seeing Batman react to my schemes, it’s so pleasing.”

“Do you consider your vendetta against Batman more for yourself or on behalf of the people of Gotham?”

He points at you. “There’s the analysis question. You can calm down there, Doc.” Joker coughs. “Behalf makes me sound like mister tall, dark, and dorky,” he snorts. “I’m trying to pull back everyone’s mask, but especially the Bat’s. I mean I, ah, already broke down Harvey Dent.”

That makes you go still. You hadn’t thought much on Harvey Dent, or how what Joker did may have affected him. You’re not sure if broken is the right word. Maybe scarred. Figures.  “The explosion. Right.”

“Poor, poor Harvey Dent. Gotham’s White Knight broke right in half. All because of me!”

You frown. “Harvey Dent died a noble man, Joker. Batman killed him all because Harvey was trying to do good.”

Joker’s eyebrows shoot up. “Harvey Dent is dead? And Batsy killed him?”

Oh, fuck. You clap a hand over your mouth, shaking your head. You weren’t supposed to say anything. It was an accident, you hadn’t meant to let it slip. “I… no, I mean, yes but-“ you stumble to try and cover it up but there’s no going back. Joker knows. And, honestly, who cares? He was going to figure it all out eventually. You take a deep breath. “Yes. Harvey Dent is dead. Batman killed him and five other people. And then Batman… he disappeared.”

Joker shoots up from his chair, and it takes you aback, causing you to squeal. You instinctively push your back into the chair while Joker looms over you. You’re not sure what he’s feeling, his mouth a thin line, his nostrils fuming. “Doll, why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” he hisses.

“I… my bosses didn’t want me to. They were scared of what you’d do. That this would inspire you…”

You wait for him to yell, to react violently, but instead he laughs. This time though, it isn’t a creepy giggle or a small chuckle, it’s a full body laugh, the kind that contorts his body. It sounds like it hurts. “Batsy killing people?” he chokes out. “I don’t believe it. No, I don’t believe it-tah one bit.” He clutches his stomach. “Batman is a very hard person to break, believe me.”

“You… you don’t think he killed all those people?”

“Ha! Absolutely not. He would’ve killed me too, he had me in the perfect place to do it, multiple times. No no no, something’s wrong about this…”

Slowly, you loosen your posture, moving back closer to the table. You’ve never even thought that any of that mess could have been something made up. “I’m confused,” you admit. 

“Doll, do you know how hard I tried to get Batman to kill me? He won’t do it! He just won’t. He’s got his, ah, one rule, his precious little moral code. He had me in the perfect position to kill me so many times yet he didn’t take any of those chances. Yet now he says he’s killed off five people including Gotham’s little savior? Puh-lease. There’s more to this story than they’re letting up.”

You hadn’t thought about it that way at all. Well, probably because you had no reason to. Joker knew more about Batman than any Gothamite did. You didn’t know much about him other than his attempts at stopping crime. Who were you to know Batman supposedly didn’t kill? You admit, it was strange that he had a streak of getting rid of criminals in ways that didn’t involve killing, then suddenly turned and killed a few people? “Are you sure you didn’t… break him?”

“No, if I did I’d know it. I’d feel it. The Bat is about as stubborn as me, doll. And now he’s in hiding?” He sniggers, a hand gently touching his lips. “Sounds like some kind of, ah, twisted joke. The Bat is hiding something.”

“I’m sure he’s hiding lots of things.”

“Whatever this is though I’m curious about it.”

Of course. You just ignited a flame in him. Idiot. “Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

“Good thing they got nine lives.” 

The more you think about it, the more intrigued you are. Batman has always been shrouded in mystery for you. Was he good? Was he bad? And now it turns out his story is all over the place, that it doesn’t make sense? You kind of wanted to know now too. “Do you think it has to do with Harvey?”

“Only one way to, ah, find out.”

“Which is?”

He looks at you like the answer is obvious. “Drive the Bat out of hiding, of course.”

There it is. Mr. Dale was right. You shouldn’t have told him. He was going to find out eventually but now was not the time. Shit. “J, you can’t-“

He cuts you off. “You don’t like the Bat, do you?”

“Well, no, but-“

“Then don’t you wanna know what his little secret is? It must be somethin’ real special if he’s, ah, abandoned Gotham. Doesn’t sound very heroic to me. Sounds rather dull.” 

You know Joker’s dead set on getting back Batman for his own amusement, but what of you? What reason would you want to go find him for other than to expose him? He locked up Joker and left him here to rot. He killed five people plus Harvey Dent. He gets to hide away while people still root for him, safe from consequences. Everyone else suffers. Maybe Joker has a point. “I’m just a psychiatrist working Arkham asylum, Mr. J, trying to seek out the Batman is far above my pay grade,” you finally say, snorting, trying to get the idea out of your head. “B-Man can’t hide forever.”

“You’re right. Because we’ll drive him out.”

“We?”

“Well, you like to do good, don’t you? Little miss Mother Teresa, over here. You’ve already offered me friendship. So come on, help me, help Gotham, help us all!” He shows you his yellowing teeth. “Or, are you not as good as you think you are?” He reaches out with his hands suddenly, moving towards you. They only reach about halfway across the table, stopped by his cuffs, but you still jump. “What’s behind that mask, dear? Tell me what you really want. Let. It. Slip. Every dirty detail.” 

You’re trembling now. Like a rabbit caught in a trap. “I… I’m not sure I’m following.”

“You’re not as good as you think you are, dolly. I can see it! I, ah, can sense the darkness looking beneath your white coat.”

What the hell was Joker going on about? That you were as rotten as he was? You weren’t. You had dark thoughts sometimes, yes, but you weren’t crazy. You weren’t crazy. You weren’t. You weren’t bad you- “I don’t know what you want from me,” you whisper.

As your voice gets quieter, Joker gets louder. “Is that it? You feel all fine and dandy in this shitty life of yours, locked up with me in this madhouse? The people out there don’t care about you, they don’t care about any of us. But you’re fine with it, huh? Like a little pet pooch nipping at their heels. You’re just being optimistic!”

“Joker-“

“Tell me,” he demands, “what you really want! I want to break Batman! I want to strip all of Gotham down to its rotting core! And you want to keep yourself beneath their boots? Dolly, please, you’re much much more than that.”

Heart thumping, you can’t take his words anymore. You stand up abruptly, slamming your hands on the table. “Fine! You wanna know what I want? I want to hurt every single person around here who has done me wrong! Every single person who ignored me or disregarded me, everyday I wish I could just rip them apart. I- I hate everyone. I hate this stupid fucking place because everyone treats me like shit and at first I was only trying so hard at this because I can harldy survive and they told me that if your sanity improved then I’d get a raise!” What is with you today? You clap your hands over your mouth, hands shaking. Fuck, Joker was going to be pissed. Oh, goddammit. “J… I- I didn’t…” You struggle to find the words, trying to keep looking him in the eyes. They give nothing away. He is silent. “Mr. J-“

Then, out of nowhere, he cackles. He throws his head back, neck exposed, and laughs into the air, the howls of his laughter echoing throughout the room. Immediately, you’re caught off guard. You can’t tell if he’s laughing because it amuses him or because he’s angry. Even when he calms down enough to look at you and smile, you still can’t tell, and you continue to shake. “Doll,” he begins through his laughs, “that’s exactly what I’m looking for.” He doubles over with howling laughter again and you’re not sure if you should be scared or confused. “This whole time you just wanted a raise! So you took on little old me?”

There’s a lump in your throat. You swallow it down. “I didn’t have much of a choice but yes… it was that or be fired. But I did really want to help you, Mr. J. Are- are you mad?”

“Mad? No! I am, ah, lovin’ this side of you. It’s so cruel.”

That certainly took a weight off your shoulders, and you finally took a long breath in. Fucking hell, Joker was confusing. Guilt still gnawed at you. “You’re right, I’m just as selfish as you say people are,” you mumble.

“Exactly,” he hisses. “But it takes guts to admit it, especially to someone who, ah, doesn’t exactly handle things very nicely.”

“I’m so sorry, J.”

“Don’t apologize. It doesn’t mean anything to me.”

“Then I don’t know what to do now. You’re set on getting Batman out of hiding, I’m going fucking crazy right now, everything feels so weird.”

Joker seems to find the utmost pleasure in your unraveling. “Doll, what’s in the bag?”

The question takes you off guard. “What?”

“When you came in, you were all giddy, and I could hear something moving in your bag I haven’t heard before. What is it?”

Ever so perceptive. “Oh… uh,” you fumble through your bag, bringing out the three tins of paint. “Your paint. They… they let me bring it for you.”

Joker’s smile falters a bit, yet he doesn’t look upset, just surprised. “My paint… You really brought it for me?”

You nod. “Y-yes.”

His voice dips low. “Put it on me then.”

Now that takes you by surprise. More than anything else that’s happened to you today.

The Joker is so guarded off, yet he’s inviting you in, allowing you to not just touch his face but apply his makeup. It feels sacred. This is a part of him that makes him not just recognizable, but feared. And here you are, being asked to put it on him. It’s so wrong it feels… right? It scares you.

“Are you sure you-?”

“Put it on me, y/n.”

If this is a test, you’re not exactly sure how to pass. But his look is unnerving and so you stand up, pulling yourself onto the table between you, a lump in your throat. You feel frazzled as you move close to him, bending your legs to the side of you as you settle on your thighs. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him. You can see every line of his scars, every wrinkle and crease on his face. “Okay,” you say, more to yourself than to him. You grab the white paint to the side of you, screwing off the lid and taking a large glob of the substance.

You loom close to him, your fingers wet with white paint, waiting for a sign that he’s okay with this. You don’t dare breathe, scared that any movement, any sound, will shut him down. But to your surprise, he doesn’t back away, he nods. Keep going. Your fingers finally land on his cheek, right beneath his eye, and you gasp at how warm his skin is. Joker shows nothing on his face to reveal how he feels except for the way his eye twitches slightly at your touch, his cheek twitching along with it. As you start to paint around his face, everywhere but his scars and lips, you wonder if his reaction stems from a disdain of being touched or from not having been touched so gently in so long. 

“Mr. J,” you whisper, and you can feel your hands start to shake again but you quickly steady them. Once his face is fully white, you dig into the black paint. He notices this and closes his eyes, letting you rub the dark paint in circles until each of his eyes look like they’ve settled into two, painted voids. When he opens his eyes again, they’re still trained right on you. “What am I doing?” you ask to no one in particular.

Joker doesn’t answer your question. He doesn’t have one for you anyways other than the obvious. “The red now, doll.”

“Y-yes, of course.” Quickly, you grab the red paint and stick your fingers in, moving them towards Joker’s lips but stopping. Putting the makeup on his face had been intimate enough but… his scars? That was a whole different kind of territory. “J…”

“Do it,” he murmurs, and it’s so quick you still wait, your hand just in front of his mouth shaking. This had to be a test. Some kind of sick joke. “Doll, can you, ah, hear me? I said ‘do it’.” 

You want to protest, but for what? He made it clear what he wants. So, you begin to smear the red across his lips, moving first to the scar on his right, your entire body shuddering as your fingers touch the sunken in skin where the carvings were made, the mangled flesh around it, every bump and curve. You don’t understand why anyone would ever find these scars ugly. To you, the way they healed, the way they are a part of him, there’s something hauntingly beautiful about it.

Godammit, J is beautiful.

As you continue to smear the red paint, he looms closer. “Do you wanna know,” he whispers, “how I got these scars?”

“I…” Of course you do. Everyday since you’ve met him, you go home and you can’t help but see his smile. See those scars. And you can’t help but wonder how they got there. You imagine a blade ripping across his mouth, drawing so much blood it drips down his chin. You’ve imagined him screaming in pain. You’ve imagined him uttering not a peep as the blade pierces his skin. So many possibilities. This was the barrier you’d been hoping to jump. “Yes,” you finally rasp.

“I can, ah, never get the story straight. It’s like a black hole, doll. A black hole in my mind. There’s so many ways I could’ve gottem, so many ways I think I gottem. What’s real? What’s not? Who the fuck cares?” Even with a furious growl in his voice, he laughs. “I can’t remember what it really was that did it. There was a horrible father. A wife who I tried so hard for. There was war, and violence, the mob, and so much pain. I’ve seen a lot. Maybe they’re all real memories, maybe they’re not, doesn’t matter! I hated the scars at first, I really did, but now? I embrace them because there is just so much to smile for. I’ve got so much left to do in this city. So much fun left to have. But there’s something I’ve been missing.”

You rub your thumb over his right scar, drawing in a shaky breath. “What is that?”

“I have all these plans, all these ideas and feelings over what I do and yet I’ve never thought anyone good enough to share them with. People, ah, will only be good to you for a while before runnin’ off with your secrets, it’s just human nature. I didn’t feel a kinship to anyone until you came along, Doctor l/n.” When he smiles, you feel the movement beneath your finger. “Look at you. So lonely. Letting everyone spit on you. Yet here you are, being so kind to me. I’m sure you imagined I could’ve killed you for keeping me along for a stupid paycheck, but you admitted it to me anyways. You are pulling back your own mask, right in front of me. You know you couldn’t fix me, right?”

You can feel tears welling in your eyes at his words, guilt gnawing at you. “I wanted to try at first. But now… I- I don’t want to fix you. I like what you are.”

“That,” he growls, “is exactly why I’m so drawn to you. I know, doll, that you crave something more than what you have now, this world kicking you down over and over and over again. I know the feeling. You’ve got nothing and everything to lose. Yet you manage to smile amidst the darkness. You smile in the face of pure chaos.”

“I don’t understand,” you mumble. 

“I want what’s best for both of us, doll face. You were right. I do need someone by my side. As I was saying, what I’ve been missing this whole time, was you.”

Your eyes grow wide. “Me?”

He nods. “You stuck with me this long. Even for a paycheck, that’s somethin’ no one else would do. And yet the big Arkham bosses are out there now, laughing at the both of us. Ain’t that unfair?”

“Yes.”

“Doll, stick by my side, and we’ll let them all know just how corrupt they truly are.”

Your arms break out in goosebumps. Every word the Joker utters is dripping with venom, an edge to each syllable. You’ve tried to ignore him, the way he crawls into your rib cage, into your mind, finding your weaknesses, your dark desires and whims you push away. Yet here he is, getting you to reveal them, and trying to get you to go along with him. It’s working. “Let’s show them, then.”

You look down at your fingers, covered in red, and it almost looks like blood. 

He grins. “That’s the spirit.” With a curl of his finger, he gestures for you to move closer. You do, and he cranes his neck towards your ear. “If you really wanna help me,” he whispers, his breath hot in your ear, “then tomorrow is the day you get me out of this place.” Every t is pronounced as sharp as a blade. “You’re smart, doll, I know you can think of something.”

Breaking Joker. Out of Arkham. A few weeks ago, you might have grabbed your remote and hit the red button but now? You think you might just take him up on that. You move back to look him in the eye. “You won’t help me think of something?”

“I’m sure you’ve got something in that, ah, pretty mind of yours.”

You huff. “J, I’m serious. This is Arkham. It’s constantly guarded and protected. And I’m just me.”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“You’re you, sweets. No one’s gonna suspect you.”

Oh fuck. He’s right. No one gave a shit about you. You’d fly right under the radar. That part was easy. But everything else? This wasn’t exactly your forte. You didn’t know what to do. “I’ll try my best,” was all you could offer.

He reaches his hand out, and at first you think he’s trying to grab you, but instead he goes after one of the paint tins. The red paint. Agonizingly slow, he removes the cap, getting his fingers wet with paint. “Doll, you and I are gonna make something special. I always knew you had it in ya. C’mere.” You tilt your face towards him, and Joker smears the red across your lips, a mirror of his own striking smile. “Don’t forget to smile,” he says.

“Never.”

_______________

Later in the night, Joker stares at himself in the reflection of the small, grimy window of his cell door. His face is painted exactly the way he likes it, maybe just a bit different, but he could care less. This, this person he’s looking at, is the person he is, the person you have given back to him. He touches his face and he can still feel your phantom touch, the way you had run your finger over his face, his eyelids, his scars. You hadn’t backed off, or avoided them, you had touched them so softly. Soft. You were soft. 

You made Joker feel soft and he hated it.

Yet, he couldn’t fathom getting rid of you. It would be easy, definitely. If things actually went well tomorrow and you managed to get him out of Arkham, he could easily kill you off. No one would look for you. And even if they did, helping him break out of Arkham would mark you a criminal, and Gotham would curse your name forever. But Joker doesn’t want to do that. Even the thought of your death makes him angry. He is used to wanting to hurt people, yet when he comes across you now, he feels… protective. He knows how the world hates him, yet somehow you showed him sympathy. No, even better, you were showing him loyalty by offering to help break him out. And if you really went and did it? God, he almost breaks into chills.

When he looks at you, he notices his body reacting strangely. His heart speeds up, his hands feel sweatier, his mind feels like it’s going to split right in half. This isn’t the kind of insanity Joker usually basks in, this is something worse. He doesn’t want to put a name to it. You were so good, and yet when you let your mask slip, Joker couldn’t help but feel pulled in even more. What lies beneath you is dark and spiteful, and Joker wants to see all of it.

You won’t let him down tomorrow, Joker is sure of it. 

A voice on the intercom comes through the crack under the door, crackling through the speakers placed along the hall outside. “Shutting lights off. Everybody get to bed.”

Joker grunts, moving to plant himself down on his metal “bed”. He’s not going to sleep though, how could he? Chaos was coming, and you were bringing it straight towards him.

________________________________________________

When you get home, you stumble into the bathroom, quickly turning on the sink faucet and drenching your face in water. You let the ice cold water drip down your face, crying out as you try and get a grip on things. Your fingers are still covered in Joker’s face paint, the water hardly washing any of it off. It’s like he’s on you forever.

Why, for fucks sake, do you almost want it to never wash off?

You look at yourself in the mirror now, the makeup that Joker spread smeared down your chin. This is you now. Mr. Dale was right, you have changed. But fuck it, it was for the best. This change, this thing radiating beneath your skin, it’s something dangerous yet powerful. It moves you. You’re not crazy, you’re insane. 

You can’t tell what this feeling is towards Joker. It almost feels like… love.

Love for the Joker.

The Joker. The Joker. The Joker-

He was right. He was always right. People were going to walk over you all your life. You were tired of it. Nothing was going to change if you didn’t change it first. You couldn’t stand around and watch these people, with their pockets fat and their reputations swell, walk around with such pride when you knew they were all phonies. This city, your city, you’re going to unveil it. No longer will it crush you. You’re going to crush it. 

You were going to be Joker’s partner in crime. And you loved it.

Taglist: @lightsabergirl / @knoepfl / @jeffswh0re / @itsmrshamilton / @heath-ledger-jokers-wife / @lolwey / @ilovetoomanymen / @amazingzou/ @ronniesweetkisser / @emberhatesthemoon

lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

[batboopp]

i hate tiktok batman fans because like. “he should kill people!!!!1! he should just kill joker!!!!!” graaagag no. i don’t care if a criminal bombs an entire city batman shouldn’t (and he honestly wouldn’t) kill at all.

and also its just like. he wanted to quit being batman at the THOUGHT of truly killing someone. he starts shaking profusely when he points guns at people (even if they deserve it.) he has ptsd attacks upon seeing corpses, no matter how often he sees and interacts with them

its that batman won’t kill, and also he just CAN’T. its not how he’s wired. the core of batmans beliefs is that he strongly supports the idea of rehabilitation. it’s the reason he still even bothers saving gotham, a city that is literally cursed from the outside in and can never really be fully helped. it’s why he still bothers with many of his rouges (Harvey Dent/Two-Face, Harley Quinn, Killer Croc, some versions of Grundy, and some versions of Riddler are the first ones that come to mind.)

if batman killed, it just throws out one of the reasons for batman existing out the window. he believes in vengeance AND justice, and It’s crucial to use BOTH of those personality traits together if you want an accurate and likable portrayal of batman.

vengeance for the innocents his rouges have harmed, and justice and empathy for his rouges as well, co-existing.

anyways if you want a character like batman except that they kill people then be a red hood fan idfk