𝐃𝐂 / 𝐃𝐂𝐄𝐔 / 𝐀𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐑𝐞𝐜𝐬

(These are not my works; full credit goes to the original writers. If you'd like your work removed, just shoot me a message and I'll remove it for you!)

✪ ~ BIPOC reader or writer (if this is wrong or you’d like it added, let me know!)

Fanfics Rec List

Oh my goodness!!! Thanks so much my love!!! Sending all of my warmth! You're too kind 💓

I'm so glad to know you liked my writing ❤️🥰

P.s I am also a POC! :)

It's been a while since I've drawn Otto, I missed him

𝑭𝒆𝒆𝒅 𝑯𝒊𝒎 𝑷𝒐𝒆𝒕𝒓𝒚;

𝐆𝐢𝐟 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞!

[𝑨/𝑵]: ok,, so hi. I'm alive and I'm hyperfixated on the mental tentacle man. I had so much fun writing this and as always my wonderful partner and editor helped me — @lilliryth 🥺

[𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚]: Love notes. Stupidity ensues.

[𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈]: Otto Octavius x Reader.

[𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕]: 5400k words.

[𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔]: Angst with a happy ending. Mental illness mentions, suicide mentions. Overall, it's really fluffy.

Otto Octavius had always been a man of logic and reason, a man with an inclination for science, and more importantly what made sense—even if the grey abstracts of the field themselves didn’t at first. Because, in the end, an explanation, a hypothesis would be constructed.

However, what doesn't make sense, what has his brows knitted, lips drawn into a confused scowl is the pink piece of paper in his large, tremulous hands. Both forefingers and thumbs pinch the edges, his pinkies upturned with strain.

The writing glares at him, a sweet innocence contrasted with the bleak anaemia that is his surroundings. And, by extension, himself.

‘I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary.’

Oh. My. God. This just might be the cutest thing I've ever read.

Thank you so much!!!! AAAAA 🥺 I'm so so happy you like it so much!

shhh… bapies be sleeping

𝐌𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭;

(𝐆𝐢𝐟 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞)!

(𝐀/𝐍 ): Ok. So. I really got carried away with this. TOMMY DESERVES LOVE OKAY???? I hope y’all enjoy! Kinda scared it sucks and I will be surprised if people read this but anyways lol – this is a lengthy boi! :)

( 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 ): Request for @enigmaticandunstable​. The reader reflects on memories and the moments leading up to how her life was changed forever.

( 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ): Thomas Hewitt x Reader.

( 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ): 7800+ k. 

( 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 ): Mentions of gore, fake friends, violence and swearing.

(I was previously @clownsxclowns, though I’ve recently changed my name to @hysteriium​)!     ͢  ⁽ᵉᵈⁱᵗᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ᵗʰᵉ ¹¹ᵗʰ ᵒᶠ ᶠᵉᵇ ²⁰²¹⁾ 

Keep reading

I just finished editing this old piece! Hopefully it's much more cohesive than it originally was!! I kinda wanna write some more for him and a few other slashers!

Here is a moodboard I made for @hysteriium (formerly known as clownsxclowns), based on her newest fanfiction, Something Bold and Something Blue. It’s about The Joker attending a wedding with the reader, taking place on a beach on the outskirts of Gotham.

Welcome back, love. We’ve all missed your wonderful content.

Read the fic here:

👏🏼 I 👏🏼 LOVE 👏🏼 YOU 👏🏼 SO 👏🏼 MUCH 👏🏼

I LITERALLY CANT EXPRESS HOW MUCH THIS MEANS TO ME! THANK YOU FOR ALWAYS SUPPORTING ME AND FOR BEING THERE AND FOR BEING SO ENCOURAGING ABOUT MY WRITING! YOU'RE ALWAYS SO HONEST AND HAVE THE BEST IDEAS 🥺 I LOVE YOU

Masterlist

Michael Myers 

✧ - Karma’s a Bitch [1]

Pennywise 

❀ - A Place Safe Enough for the Three of Us

✥ - Legend Has IT 

▹ - Contortionist! Reader

❀ - Cuddles and Snuggles

Arthur Fleck / The Joker

✧ - The Irony of Fate [1] [2] | Playlist

✥ - Expect the Unexpected 

❀ - Ghost of the Past

▹❀ - Can’t Help Falling In Love 

✥❀ - Dazzling Devil

▹✥ - Jp! Joker & Heath! Joker

✥ - Blind Faith

❀ - Here’s to a Better Year 

❀ - Arthur Getting Into a Relationship

❀ - Spending Christmas Season With Arthur 

Heath Ledger’s Joker

▹✥ - Jp! Joker & Heath! Joker

✥ - Blind Faith

✥ - Doctor’s Orders

❀ - Something Bold and Something Blue 

Thomas Hewitt 

❀ - Moments of the Past

I've updated this today and I'm planning to release a bunch of my works in the future with a bunch of new characters. I'm releasing a fic today in the next few minutes! I'll also be remastering a bunch of my old fics so you may see them pop up every once and a while when I do! I hope you guys enjoy! :)

Kat out! ❤

WE ARE SO PROUD OF YOU JOAQUIN CONGRATULATIONS 😭❤

Doctor’s Orders

(Gif isn’t mine)

(A/n): I had a request for some Dark Knight nurse Joker action so,,,,, here! Hope it satisfies! :) @pennyship​ is my HYPE she is the light of my LIFE she helped me make sure this was coherent and lmk if I was being too much of a self-deprecating asshole HIFSHDFUIS. Enjoy!

(Summary): A deal’s a deal. 

(Pairing): DK!Joker x Reader

(Word Count): 7,200k+ 

(Warnings): Smut (18+), swearing, dub-con, implied stalking.

———

The sea of people your shoulders were ramming up against seemed to be a never-ending stream of mayhem; a faucet that desperately needed to be turned. Truthfully, you were surprised you hadn’t been dunked, swept under the furious stampede of shoes and trampled on. 

Ever since the threat was made by Joker, the hospital had been thrown into panic mode. Staff, law enforcement, and the clamour of patients added to the suffocatingly anxious air. It was proving to be a very tolling day, the cherry on top – a sour, bitter one might you add – was that somewhere in between you’d lost your necklace. You remembered twirling the small pendant between your thumb and forefinger while everyone, you included, crowded around the small TV in the waiting room. 

Just minutes after receiving the news, after hearing that soul-chilling voice announce its equally as cold plans, the jewellery vanished. During the rush, there was the possibility someone had snatched it off you. Too distracted by the waves of patients you had to tend to, you guessed you failed to notice its absence until too late. Alternatively, your meddling could have loosened the delicate piece, rendering its tumble inevitable. So much so, that when you were practically slamming into people, like a typical game of bumper cars, it may have fallen. 

Regardless, it was gone, irrespective of its sentimental value. For now, you had more pressing matters to worry about. 

Lives.

Coworkers tried their hardest to lead subjects to safety, whether by their beds or by feeble arms. It looked like an accident in itself waiting to happen, a ticking time bomb which no one would have the luxury to clean up after. A dramatic number of personnel had dropped off the face of the earth within minutes of the news broadcast and so you all tried to make do. There was no doubt the hefty chunk had left to escape the danger, fearful for their own lives. 

Irony at its finest. 

As you attempted to escape the barrage and locate your next patient, a sharp turn took you into one of the rooms. The cubic area wasn’t large and its walls were coated with a particularly unappealing shade of mint green – a style which after all these years seemed as hideous as the first time your poor eyes made contact with it. The empty bed settled within the middle told you the patient had already been assisted, and you were about to leave when a flash of white and copper caught your vision. Upon second glance, you realised it was another nurse. With her back turned, you could see the glistening of her short framed hair. She looked to be occupied, her posture odd and hunched over, hiding whatever she was doing. You could also hear… mumbling? 

Curious.

Clearly not hearing you enter, you promptly cleared your throat, trying not to startle her. Then, you approached.

“Everyone’s crazy out there…” you started with a bitter laugh. 

The further you travelled, the more obvious the grumbles became. The clacking of something metallic emerged with your increasing proximity, a clamour from a fidgeting of some sort. After a quick flicker, you noticed that her shoulders were quite broad, along with her seemingly defined biceps. While it was more of an observation, the pit in your stomach told you something about her was off.

No response. Not even an acknowledgement.

Your amusement subsided when it was met with the ever-so-reassuring retort of silence, your smile falling as well when your next words received the very same. 

“Especially since everyone’s ditched.” 

You were about to ask if she was alright, considering your existence had apparently been downgraded to ‘invisible,’ when suddenly, you froze. 

A pool of crimson had seized your attention.

The woman who was yet to speak, let alone turn, went rigid when she heard you gasp. Your hand had automatically flown to your mouth then, the distinctive whack of skin slapping echoed throughout the room. Though, such a change was lost on you as your instincts immediately kicked in. The source of the sinister liquid was hidden behind the bed, but you didn’t need to see any more of the scene to already make a conclusion. A little shuffle to the right had informed you that the man had been an officer, his uniform soaking up the seemingly fresh bullet wound wedged just above his heart. 

Immediately, your gaze returned to your questionable coworker, the adrenaline rushing through you tingling your fingertips. In one swift movement, you had forced yourself up against the wall opposite her, your shaky figure slowly sidestepping towards the exit, ready to pounce for the door. The disturbing reality of the situation washed over you when the new angle enabled you to view what her frame was protecting – what she had been playing with all along. 

A gun.  

“M-ma’am?” The whimper that left you was a pathetic sound, one that coincided with the wavering of your lips. To top things off, like the legendary klutz you were, you stumbled over one of the metallic bins, a small rectangular thing that only served to signal your intent to escape. 

That had been the last straw.

“Ah-ah-ah!” She sung, abruptly whirling around. 

Or, more accurately, he. 

Dressed there in all his glory stood the very man who’d threatened to blow up the entire building. Threatened to kill hundreds of innocents in the process. To say you saw your life flash before your eyes when he reared his gun towards you was an understatement; all colour draining from your face as if it had merely been coated on like his own face paint. The glaring abyss, angry and entrancing, was reminiscent of the gaping hole in your heart, decaying from the ever-so-acidic weight of terror. And, even though half of his face was concealed by a white surgical mask – an absurd combination with the makeup – he still succeeded to emit a viciously deadly aura.

He had snuck in and hidden right under everyone’s noses.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing. 

With a cringe, he yanked off the mask. The ’snap!’ of its elastic strings bouncing back emanated as he flung it behind him uncaringly. Peeling off the copper wig and discarding it similarly, he snickered at your expression, “well, helloo, beautiful.”  

Involuntarily, you felt ice glide down your spine, branching throughout your body and leaving its distinctive mark in the form of risen skin. The sound of his voice was enough to strike fright in anyone. He’d proven as such from his inception. The very thought of what he’d do to you was even more disturbing.  

“D-don’t.” 

“Awww, scared of this lil ol’ thing?” Sadistic giggles spilled from his lips as he jiggled the weapon. 

“She won’t bi-te,” the last portion had his tongue flicking off the roof of his mouth.   

Your eyes had been darting from him to the firearm nestled loosely in his grasp, his hand worryingly relaxed for such a weapon of butchery. Contemplating whether or not you had an opportunity to run for it, a sudden cry rippled the silence. 

A sharp inhale followed by another moan to your left had you twisting your neck, deviating from the oh-so-dangerous man in front of you. Similarly, the gun locked in his clutch was flung towards the origin. The slant of his weapon – downturned towards the floor – spoke volumes; told you all you needed to know.  

The man was still alive. 

“You know what the, uh, funny thing is about people?” Joker started, his voice dangerous and spoken with an edge, a serrated knife slicing into the well-bolstered tautness of the air. 

“They’re like,” he paused, looking up at the ceiling as if to remember. The whole charade, his wiggling fingers and his drawn-out words were all to drag out the gut-churning anticipation, “insects.” 

You knew he was talking to you, even if his focus was elsewhere and occupied by the man who he’d previously shot. It didn’t take much observation to pinpoint the man’s strange idiosyncrasies. The way his tongue darted out, speedily scaling the risen tissue on the corners of his lips, the unpredictable fluctuations in his tone, the controlled gestures of his hands. All screamed erratic.  

Suddenly scrunching his nose, he dragged back the hammer with his thumb, the small clacks from the small extension exacerbating the wild drumming of your heart. 

“Theeey. Just. Don’t. Die–”

“WAIT!” You shouted, shooting out your trembling palms. 

It had been an improvised move, one that could have gotten you killed, but the innate tendency to prevent bloodshed (well, more), seemed to override logic. You had trained all your life for this job – to be a nurse and help people. Like hell you were about to just stand by and let him kill another innocent on your watch. Either you’d succeed or die trying.  

Leaning over the bed to view the state the man was in, you recognised positive signs. Like always, things could be better, but he was still fighting. Meaning, there was still a chance you could bring him back from the brink of death and get him to safety. You just needed to convince the other male waving the firearm around somehow. Surprise him. 

“Ju-just–” you swallowed the lump in your throat and shut your glassy eyes for a brief moment to release a steady breath, “take me instead.”

“A-and then–” you riskily took a step forward, your palms still raised defensively, “the-then you can do anything you want. Please. Just let me help him.”   

The man who had his head angled, essentially letting it hang, perked up his eyebrows at your proposal, the prominent creases of his forehead no longer fully concealed by his smudged greasepaint. Slowly, like a big cat toying with its prey, he prowled forward. His steady approach had you shrinking back into the wall behind you, your arms firmly planting themselves against its chilly surface while the trickle of laughter revealed his wicked pleasure. The taunting voices in your head told you that you’d worsened the situation and further cornered yourself into his vile trap – playing right into his hands. 

With no concept of personal space, he then hovered over you, face only centimetres away from your own. You could tell this was just one of the ways he intimidated people – gained control. By some miracle, you endured eye contact. 

“Hmm, are ya willing to shake on that, sweethear-t?” He drawled, the sudden weight shoved against your stomach involuntarily coercing you to look down; down at the handgun practically connected to you, the point of its muzzle hiding in the fabric of your uniform. When you naively tried to create more distance, the attempt ended up as a pathetic, miserable display. Soon, you gave in, your fingers reaching around the gun. Slow, stuttering motions manipulated your wrist as you worked to mimic the action of a handshake. 

The hum he emitted at the interaction was deep and reverberated – almost like a purr – the sound igniting an unimaginable yearning you tried with all your might to suppress. You didn’t even want to acknowledge it, mentally kicking yourself when you instinctively glanced at his lips. You prayed he didn’t notice, but a part of you knew better. The way he inched closer, your noses nearly touching confirmed this, coaxing you to look back up at him. Focusing into those dark, glittering eyes, you saw the hellfire behind them, a black hole which sucked out any form of innocence; a cesspool which bred corruption. Speckles of intrigue swam in them. 

Or was it excitement? 

You couldn’t exactly tell, but you knew it was bad news. Knew that you had, most likely, made one of the worst deals in your life. 

To compare this man to the devil, the master of deals, was inaccurate. With only just one, tiny, interaction, you could infer this. No. He was much worse. Worse because unlike fairytales, unlike the mystic, this man existed. He could, if he so very willed, demolish you in an instant. 

“Welll,” his gaze lingered on for a split second – just enough for you to notice – before he reared himself back, “that settles it.” 

Joker, who was much taller, was able to effortlessly shift his focus to the policeman struggling to push himself up against the wall. The injured man shimmied back into its cold reinforcements while one of his hands desperately fiddled with his belt. 

Entirely shielded from the scene due to your angle, the most visible section being his head, you missed the way the wounded man drew his firearm and aimed it for the anarchist in front of you. The only sign something had transpired was the blur of white in front of you bobbing low, as well as the dizzy scent of smoky gunpowder. As the shot rang out, echoing throughout the room like an explosion, causing brief deafness, Joker ducked down just in time. The bullet whizzed above him, wedging itself into the wall behind, just missing the glass of the door; a permanent, antithetical imprint.   

“Op– and that’s my cue,” with a quick wink, he grabbed his previously discarded attire. 

“See you around, doll,” he said, zipping out of the room entirely.

The officer slumped up against the wall when he realised he hadn’t hit his target, exhaustion enveloping his form. You made your way to the dying man as fast as you could and began to tend to him. 

“Oh!” 

You jolted away from your patient when Joker suddenly appeared again, head peeking from the corner. He had the surgical mask, although this was lowered and the wig was back on, concealing the scraggly strands of dyed hair. 

“And – heheh – you mayyy want to, uh, make it fast,” he shook the detonator in his hand, clicking his tongue twice with a crooked grin before he took off for good. 

With the door now wide open and the overwhelmingly white hallway visible, you quickly noticed how empty it was. It was virtually a ghost town. While this meant it was easier to navigate him to safety, it also spelled trouble. After halting his bleeding, you were going to need to move him, this being problematic since you weren’t exactly the strongest. 

You weren’t up to that part yet, however.

“Stay with me okay? Can you hear me?”

The dazed look in his eyes and the expansion of his pupils told you that he was experiencing head trauma. Assessing the small bloody mark against the green paint and the gruesome splatter near it, you were able to figure out a rough idea of what happened. The force of the bullet had propelled him backwards and whipped his head back, it rutting up against the wall while it tried to catch up with his body. The aggressive hit to the cranium was what finally knocked him out, rendering him limp until he later regained consciousness. 

Ouch.  

It took a moment, though the gentle nod of his head answered your question.

“Good,” grabbing scissors from one of the tables nearby, you tore into his shirt, finding the source of the wound. Another positive – just from the way the crimson liquid was flowing, it was clear no arteries had been hit.

“What’s your name?“ 

It was essential to keep the victim as awake as possible, your questioning aiming to do just that. 

No longer at his side, you rushed around the room like a chicken with its head cut off, frantically trying to find a tourniquet or any sort of compressor. 

“Daniel,” his voice came out strained and delayed.

“Well Daniel, we’re going to get you out of here, alright?” You said, hoping he could hear your reassurances over your wild searching.  

The room was more of a mess than when you entered, bits and pieces of equipment decorating the floor as if a twister had come through and hurled them there. You found it funny how in times of great urgency the things you needed most you could never find. 

You were about to give up and tear Daniel’s uniform, using the shreds of his suit when your quivering digits stumbled across precisely what was needed. When you found the tourniquet, you had to literally hold yourself back from screaming eureka. You hastily returned to the disoriented man and dragged along one of the wheelchairs which had been abandoned. In no time, the wound, both entry and exit, had been covered, the utensil applying a great deal of pressure. Daniel’s cries hadn’t been easy to listen to but as you gently eased him into the wheelchair, they lessened. 

The home stretch. 

Fiercely clutching the push handles, you flew into the corridor, extremely conscious of the time and the tiny device which had been attached to Joker’s palm like superglue. The mental image motivated you to maintain your swift pace, Daniel’s head lolling to the side, jostling with each sudden movement. 

By some miracle, as you pushed through those automatic glass doors, you saw the last of the patients being loaded into the yellow school buses. Using the ramp, relief washed over you like a chilled breeze on a hot summer’s day. The closest bus was where you headed, and you flagged down one of the doctors to get immediate help for Daniel. Within minutes, he was moved into the bus receiving treatment. 

About to dispose of the wheelchair, an enormous roar had you rearing your head back to the hospital. The ground shook with each stuttering explosion, the surreal view forcing you to look on with wide eyes. It was a distressing sight to process, but for some reason, you were unable to look away from the tragedy. 

This was especially the case when a familiar blob of white waddled out of the building with outstretched arms, his painted smile wider than ever. As if everything had been predestined, he knew exactly where you were, immediately noticing you gawking. Stuck between the weird limbo of boarding the bus, he gave you a wave. It wasn’t fast, nor one in which required his whole limb. It was a slow, controlled one, only the tips of his fingers obliging. Time seemed to slow with the movement, each drawn out wiggle adding to the deep-rooted layers of terror and astonishment. A staring contest ensued. 

Before you could intake the sight anymore, let alone process it, you felt the distinctive clutch of hands from behind, pawing at you. As you were hauled into the bus by your underarms, the doors slammed shut with a hiss. Then, the bus booked it, your eyes never deterring. 

Nor his. 

———

Hours after the event, Joker had been captured and thrown into Arkham Asylum like most criminals in Gotham. While your job was more or less blown to smithereens and unsalvageable, forcing you to look elsewhere, you were sure it had marked the end of your interactions with him. 

All in all, life seemed to revert back to normal. Weeks passed as you hunted for another position, and ultimately, your searching paid off when you found another hospital. Resuming your duty as a nurse, Daniel had been transferred to the same institution for treatment as chance so happened and in a weird twist, you were assigned as his carer. His recovery wasn’t very long but within that small time frame you knew him, you’d come to enjoy his company – perhaps a bit too much. Time revealed the feeling was mutual by how, as he so eloquently put it, he owed you dinner for ‘saving his ass’. 

How could you have resisted?

However, like the venomous serpent it was, fate appeared to strike when you least expected it; baring and infiltrating with its noxious fangs. This much was proven when you arrived back home from said ‘dinner.’ Expecting a night filled with laughter and shy glances, reality was disappointing. Instead, you were met with a boatload of anxiety and stress. 

For starters, the dress you had laid out earlier in the morning had magically disappeared when you returned from work, and you eventually gave up searching after a ridiculous amount of time. Opting to leave the house with a backup, you hadn’t dared to peek at the time. Yet, the worst was yet to come; the straw that broke the camel’s back was the amount the traffic jam you wound up in. 

Everything that could’ve gone wrong, went wrong. 

In total, the high of the night, came screeching to a stop when you spotted blinding flashes of red and blue. Combined with the waving, directing hands of law enforcement, the weight of dread compelled you to roll down your window and ask around. A few ignored you, though you had gotten some one-worded answers – ‘accident,’ and ‘crash’ being the mains. Yet, none of their explanations, underwhelming and dismissive at best, prepared you for the shock which cocooned your worn form as the culprit revealed itself – a firetruck. 

On fire. 

It was almost like a sick joke. 

The truck was completely destroyed and wedged between the entrance of the bridge, blocking exactly where you needed to go. In summary, it looked like you weren’t seeing Daniel anytime soon.  

Heaven only knew how long you sat in the car for when you arrived back home again. Resting your throbbing forehead against the leather steering wheel in a pathetic attempt to fight the manifesting tension headache. You had practically driven in one giant loop. It felt as though the Gods were laughing at you, all huddled around each other in their perfect utopia looking down, pointing and snickering. 

You needed a drink. 

When you finally did stumble out of the vehicle, you just managed to make out the small rectangular object placed ever so delicately on your doorstep. Then, with the automatic sensor light flickering on, you were able to identify the material it was sheathed in: recycled wrapping paper. Purple tinted and crinkled, the colour complemented the vibrant green bow criss-crossed on top. 

The hues alone communicated enough.

Hey, at least Joker was an environmentalist. 

Even rotting in a cell, he was still able to pull strings, sustaining some semblance of terror. He must’ve had men on the outside, eager to do his bidding. 

The strange feeling of being watched, the apparent echoes trailing your footsteps, the disordered internal debates sparked by open windows over the past few weeks finally made sense. You had merely chalked off the occurrences and the growing collection of missing items to your overactive imagination. To your paranoia. 

The naive belief that Joker was too busy wrapped up in a straitjacket to chase up on the deal you’d idiotically settled on had been shattered, thrown to the ground and stomped on. Originally, you doubted he even remembered the agreement; he certainly didn’t seem like a man capable of holding down a thought – the chaotic energy emanating from him so astounding it was almost a phenomenon. Though, this had been wrong. Foolishly, you had thought yourself safe. 

Foolishly, you were mistaken. 

The joke was on you. 

You wanted to go to the cops. You wanted to turn in the little gift of death. The hovering worry of it being tampered with in some way, everlasting. Running rampant and wild with possibilities, your imagination outrageously tried to guess what was inside while your curiosity simultaneously nagged at you. 

Overwhelmed by the two shrieking entities, you reached down to pick up the small package, most likely adding to your list of dumb decisions. A small Joker card was attached to the bow, the bottom-half dangling, while tiny, messy crimson writing demanded the card to be flipped. It read:

‘Tick tock!' 

The phrase was repeated in scratchy, crazed scribbles, decorating the card in a rather unsettling fashion. 

Swamped with confusion, itching fingers coaxed you to look inside the ambitiously innocuous box. Within its cardboard confounds laid a circular pocket watch – withered and deteriorated. You could barely make out the thin hair-line cracks in the glass. Although deceivingly harmless at first inspection, further scrutiny revealed they were deep-rooted and hardly repairable. 

Your heart skipped a beat when the sensory light suddenly shut off, but you didn’t need it any longer. Not with the harrowing imprint of the card cruelly carved into your brain. Ultimately, the message was loud and clear:

The end was nigh. 

Your end. 

The very words Joker had uttered to you haunted your thoughts like a spectre: a promise of your finale. Of your very last, spectacular, blue-faced, gasping breath. You were about to pull out your keys to unlock the door and barricade yourself inside when you noticed something horrifically disturbing. 

The door was slightly open.

With a hand reaching for the phone and ready to dial the police, your shoulder served to nudge it open. No groans emerged from its hinges as you pushed yourself inside, immediately heading left in the darkness to the kitchen. In the hopes of reducing any noise, you’d taken off your heels before you entered the house, mindfully placing them away from the door in case you needed to make a quick exit. 

Your go-to stop was the cutlery drawer. Gently sliding it open, you felt around for a knife, snatching it away when you found the right one. As if on cue, the kitchen light flicked on, rendering you momentarily blind from the dramatic shift in luminance. Like a newly birthed animal, scrambling to comprehend its surroundings, you flipped your body against the counter and wordlessly threatened the intruder. Pretending like it would make a difference, you waved the weapon around carelessly, eyes attempting to adjust.

“Sorry for the deee-lay,” a familiar voice drawled, one that shook you to your very core. Within the few seconds of focusing, you observed how Joker mimicked a cringe, dragging out his 'e’s’. His figure was resting against the second door frame, opposite of the way you had snuck in. The plum coat he often wore was lost and his sleeves were hastily rolled back to his elbows, exposing his toned arms. Along with all this, the infamous green vest was no longer hugging his waist, instead the tucked in hexagonal blue patterned shirt made a firm appearance, with olive diamond ridden suspenders. 

“I’ve been a bit… busy.”

“And, uh, by the looks of it,” he paused as he eyed you up and down, scanning the form-fitting dress you completely forgot you had on, “you have too." 

In an attempt to shield yourself from his sweeping, to hide how begrudgingly exposed you felt,  you crossed your arms against your chest. It was a gesture he ignored. 

"How did your little play date…” He clicked his tongue, waving his hands in gestures of quotations, “go, hmm?” 

You couldn’t help the involuntary falter in your expression when the words left his mouth. The series of unfortunate events which appeared to plague your day no longer resembled coincidence. The thought that he had been monitoring every movement was disturbing to say the least. 

“Not so well?” He continued with an all-knowing grin, tilting his head until it was properly angled against the door frame, following the lead of his body. The only divergence was in his suffocating gaze, displaying ponderance.

“Seems like poor Daniel, uh, missed his chance.“ 

The way his name rolled off of Joker’s tongue contained deep-seated malice, a guttural growl which had you rutting back into the counter with a jump. Bruises were sure to form on the tender flesh of your backside by morning. 

“Wh-what did you do?” The words came out mumbled as if you were afraid to know the answer, and in a way, you supposed you were. Still shaking, you hardly deterred the point of the knife from the criminal in front of you, the blade wavering so much it almost looked like its length was vibrating on its own accord.

”Ohhh, nothing a little gasoline couldn’t fix…”

It was only then when you realised he was slowly making his way towards you, slow and calculated and ready to pounce. With each one of his steps, you could feel every agonising jolt from your heart – feel it pick up its pace.  

Then, you mulled over his comment, recalling the terrible traffic, the ember hellblaze engulfing the raging red of the firetruck, and the amount of time it took you to maneuver out of the driving nightmare. 

It was all because of him. 

“And now that I have you allll to myself, we can get down to business,“ by now he had already inched halfway into the room.   

"I swe-swear to God, I will use this if you don’t step back." 

Regardless of how many times you swiped the knife – to get it to look like you were actually serious about using the weapon – Joker remained unperturbed.

"But all I wanted to do was say hiii,” he paused his advances, his hands shooting up to display his palms while his scarred mouth fell into a mocking pout, “especially to my favvvvou-rite nurse.”

“I-I’m warning you–” 

He was barely a meter in front of you now as his towering figure practically cornered you like your first encounter. The wave of déjà vu flooding your senses drove you to raise the knife and plunge – or at least try to. Stopped midair was the kitchen utensil, along with your struggling arm by his forceful grip. He hadn’t even cared to toss a glance at the incoming weapon, maintaining composition as he swiftly and effortlessly succeeded in capturing your wrist. Only after did he shift attention, a low whistle of feigned surprise his barbed acknowledgment. He had drained all your hope, then. Killed whatever shred of optimism you had left in the process; hell, it didn’t even look like he was trying.  

In one swift maneuver, he ripped the blade out of your hands and quickly tossed it to the side, pinning your lower half against the counter as he did so, “did you – heeheh – really think I was just gonna let you go? Hmm? Forget about ya?” 

You tried your best next to use your hands – to slap him, to push him away, to wriggle out of the trap his body had forced you in. Yet, tricky vine-like hands excelled in capturing your own. Then, acting like nothing happened, as if it were a mere momentary hiccup, he continued, his tongue flickering out to dab at his scars, "no no no, you see, you caught my eye.”

“A selfless little bird!” 

“Willinggg to sacrifice your life for another,” he spat, vicious and gruff; the volatility of his tone made it hard to decipher his thoughts. Though, it wasn’t as if you were well versed in such a thing to begin with. One moment revealed mockery, the next, disdain. 

What was real?

Maneuvering his hold on your wrists into one hand, his unoccupied digits reached for your hair, twirling a small strand that had fallen in front of your face during the struggle, “I’ve come to coll-ect.” 

“P-please-” Your breathing came out uneven through your nostrils as you clamped your eyes shut, still attempting to create distance. The feeling from last time, the shame woven into the forbidden craving had arisen again and you essentially prayed that he chalked off your squirming to fear and not to a specific… discomfort.    

”Noww, relaaax – doctor’s orders,” he hummed, wiggling his eyebrows. A trickle of joy spilled from his scarred lips, “what happened to that bravery?” 

You had shied away from his stare up until then, the rough hold which had migrated to your chin forcefully wiggling you closer. When your eyes met his dark ones, his eyebrows flicked upwards in what seemed like a tic. 

 “I-if you’re going to kill me, just do it,” you forced out. Gloved fingers squeezed at your cheeks.

“I’ve had a change of heart.” 

His thumb swiped your quivering lower lip, a sight he was thoroughly engaged in. Mere centimetres apart, it was there when you realised, with his breath sweeping against your mouth, that you wanted to kiss him. You really had sunken.

“Though, I am looking forward to – oh how did you put it? Letting me do what I want?“ 

In one sudden, erratic movement, he wedged his knee between your legs and lifted the limb slowly, sliding it up until he reached your cunt. With your lungs feeling like they’d been robbed of air, you inhaled sharply, dizziness overtaking you. The tightening pressure around your wrists acted like a constrictor knot, its bindings strengthening the more you writhed.

“Do you remember that, sweetpea?” 

He rocked his knee which in turn rutted against the cabinet, enabling his thigh to brush your clit through soaked panties. Your dress was bunched up and pooled around his leg, hiding a good portion of his pinstripe trousers and in a response you weren’t particularly proud of, you released a choked moan, his actions providing the semblance of the relief you were chasing – craved.    

"Hmm, yeah?” He cooed, high pitched and almost like he was talking to a child.  

Protests – a whole bouquet of them sprouted from your vocal cords, their great green stalks filling the width of your throat, clogging it. So much so that instead of frantic clusters of ‘no,’ ‘stop,’ ‘get away from me,’ strangled noises and gasping moans trickled out. At least that’s what you told yourself; because to face cold harsh reality would have proved to be too much. To realise that so much as one nudge from the cold criminal could reduce you to putty, a hot melting mess would be repugnant! To realise that those flowers hardly represented your innocence and more so the blossoming of carnality was a hard seed to swallow. 

And so, perhaps it was better to hide behind the excuse of obstruction even though the weakness in your knees told you different, even though you were leaning into him and transfixed on his lips. And maybe, just maybe, it was better to ignore how your stomach leapt at his resonating growl and how he pulled you by your wrists, and how you continued to ignore the auspicious swell in your chest as the risen skin of his scars brushed your cheeks and how the quick prod of his tongue coaxed you into a sloppy open-mouthed kiss and how your honeyed hums pressed against his mouth and how he darkly chuckled and–

Fuck. 

Fuck it. 

Melting into the way his tongue teased yours, you rolled your hips, meeting the occasional bounces as you rode his thigh. His free hand began its slow ascent up your dress, squeezing greedily at the flesh and when he knew you weren’t going anywhere, he relinquished his domineering hold on your wrist. In a move that seemed all too comfortable, natural even, your arms reached up to rest on his shoulders while the wandering hands nearing the waistband of your panties suddenly yanked the material – a fierce ‘snap!’ forcing you to jolt. 

You had no time to recover when he hoisted you on top of the kitchen counter. The sudden liftoff was rough considering his handling but the landing was even more so when he plopped you on its surface; the small squeak of pain followed by skewed mimicking and taunts. Regardless of the humiliation, the sudden loss of contact had you whining pitifully in the middle of the room, a reaction you were positive only urged his sadistic inclinations. 

“Wooould ya look at that,” Joker smirked, directing you to the sizable wet spot in his suit pants.  

The heat rushed to your cheeks instantly at the vulgar display, a rose dusting sweeping the area. With his knee still propped up against the counter, he was able to push his way between your thighs losing your ability to shut them knee to knee. 

No matter how much he tried to poke at your eagerness, shame was void. Such a point was proven when you leaned backwards slightly, adjusting your position, never straying far from his lips. Once done, you reached for the digits circling the skin of your hips. Joker hardly seemed fazed by the sudden contact, though he watched you intently with squinted eyes – intrigue the dominating emotion. Said narrowing was so subtle that if you hadn’t been looking up at him the whole time, you wouldn’t have picked up on it at all. 

The gentle trail you led him down, from your hip to your inner thigh, and then, finally, to your slit had been drawn out, the pleasured groan he emitted a forbidden delight submerged in concupiscence. Slickness coated the tips of his gloves as they toyed with the area, his long digits sliding easily inside from how wet you were. 

“One second you’re scared stiff,” he grinned, eyes flicking between you and the way his unhurried fingers filled you up. 

“The next you’re allll ho-t and bothered.” 

With no time to adjust, he ditched the leisurely act and started a much more impatient speed. You eagerly leaned into the sly, slithering touch which happily found you were braless. Curled markings scratched into the edges of the counter, coinciding with the tortuous ascension of poisonous fingers – a poison in which seemed to seep its way into your bloodstream instantly, manipulating every feeling, every thought, every sensation to the firey, prickling rush of desire; of him.

“What does that say about you, huh?” 

Knowing exactly what you needed, his thumb promptly found your nipple. With both hands busy, the sheer euphoria they propagated brought on a daze. 

“It says I’m a nurse,” you warbled, breathing heavy. 

Jokers eyebrows furrowed, though quickly reverted in seemingly the very same twitch; it appeared he always wanted to have the upper-hand. To control. Nonetheless, he was eager for your continuance, the way his skilful fingers glided inside you, exploring, not stopping in the slightest. The swell of pleasure which forced your toes to curl and your hips to rise let you know you were close.

“I’m built for high-pressure situations.” 

“Is that so?” He said, his voice as smooth as silk. He leaned in again, so close that measuring the distance would have been redundant. Strands of green, which were once woven neatly (or more, as neatly as they could get for the man), deviated. Each curl bounced along with every thrust. 

“Care to put your money where your mouth is, sweetheart?” He grunted, pinching the sensitive nub between his thumb and forefinger, drawing out a sharp mewl.

“Another deal?” You forced out, breathing a laugh.

“If you, uh, think you can handle it,” he flopped his head to the side and performed his idiosyncrasy with an impish twinkle in his eye, “you know I’m a man of my w–”

You both paused.

During the exchange, you swore you had heard something. Considering Joker’s sudden halt too, you were certain it hadn’t been your imagination. The only thing louder than the silence was the furious ‘rap rap rap’ of your heart, a thunderous drum calling out for something – anything to mask its bellows. 

‘Mass hysteria’ was doing rounds in your mind as an explanation for the sudden, unexplained noise until finally, it repeated. Short, sharp, and distinguishable. 

This time, you heard it clear as day.

Your name. 

“(Y/n)?”

It seemed you were the only one who remained in your fixed state as Joker clamped a hand over your mouth. However, he continued with his thrusts, controlling them into a slower pace; a patience you didn’t think he had. With your tongue, you ran the muscle against his gloved fingers, biting into the material, a signal to ditch the covering. It appeared to work too, because within seconds his bare flesh replaced it. He slipped two digits into your mouth instead and pressed the pads of his digits of your appendage. Immediately, you hollowed your cheeks, looking up at his lust ridden gaze as you sucked. A delighted purr resonated from him. 

“Good girl,” he growled, curling the fingers still inside you; marking the end of his teasing. Joker, more agitated by the second, returned to his previous rhythm, the kitchen counter groaning.

 So much for patience. 

The interruption was almost forgotten as you began to reach your peak. Arching your back, you forced Joker closer to you and clung onto him, ensuring each rapid ram reached his knuckles. In a flurry of desperation, you pawed at his arm, trying to redirect the hand not currently busy fucking you into oblivion. With a small ‘pop’ he left your mouth, finding your neck with your guiding. His fingers wrapped around the area perfectly, squeezing while a laugh left him.

“Well, aren’t you just full of surprises.”

“(Y/n)?” The voice repeated. You heard your door slam shut soon after, only just now had it occurred it had been left open the whole time.

“Hey, the door was open,” they confirmed, continuing as you heard the distinctive thud of boots searching the house, presumably searching for you.

Mumbled, nonsensical phrases left your mouth in the violent flurry of release, suppressed by the pressure around your throat. In the midst of things, the top half of your dress had fallen and bundled around your waist. As you went rigid, your nails clawed and sunk into the back of his shirt, stealing a few grunts. Too wrapped up in your own pleasure, you missed how Joker intently watched your climax, mischievous eyes deviating to the exposed flesh of your shoulder. 

“I heard about the accident, and I guessed you wouldn’t have made it so I decided dinner here would be–”

Joker without warning had bitten into your shoulder, the unexpected intermingle of pain and pleasure coaxing you to cry out. Such an interruption warranted the frantic footsteps heading your way.

Shit.

“Is everything ok–”

Splat.

Both you and Joker whipped your heads around to the source which was now in one of the doorways of the kitchen. There stood Daniel, horror stricken and trying his hardest to comprehend the scene before him. A demanding contrast of colours – flowers, wrapped and nicely presented, had fallen to the floor in surprise, explaining the slap of sadness.

No one said anything. 

The thick mist of unease permeated through the kitchen, suffocating everyone inside. Well, at least those prone to embarrassment. Although you couldn’t see the cocky smirk on the jester’s face, you could feel the distinctive rumble of laughter brewing from the way you continued to cling onto his back. 

In short, Joker was shameless.

No sooner than when you had realised such a thing was festering – it erupted, breaking the spell time had cast on the small box of a room. Hysterics was contrasted with Daniel’s visible confusion and, dare you say, hurt. The blood had rushed to his face, whether in anger or embarrassment it was clear it was both. A small part of you felt bad, it truly did, though it was difficult to sustain when Joker, without even so much as looking at you, forced you back further to a 130-degree angle until your upper half was leaning against the kitchen wall. Without missing a beat, he started to fiddle with his pants, a vicious, sharp smile delivering the final slice to the intruder’s heart.  

“The early bird gets the worm, Daniel.”  

Fuck…fuck…FUCK 😳😳😳😳😳 that was some GOOD SHIT

THANK YOU @justahyena​ MY LOVE :,,)) 💕💝💞💖💗❤️❣️💙💚💓💛