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ajokeformur-ray · 4 years

Note

Hey can we get a bit of fluff with ledger's joker? Most fics with him are super kinky and he deserves a bit of fluff

I am all here for this ksksksskks I love loving on J, he deserves it so much

I asked @jokershyena for a prompt so: It’s been a long, long day and J’s so exhausted; he can barely move, but you manage to get him into bed. You get him sorted out; you undress him, clean off his paint, and while you’re there, you take a moment to love on your clown. He’s the only one for you.

Word count: 1, 689.

J was late home.

There wasn’t a set curfew, as such, but it had always been, at the very least, a guideline that J was supposed to come home before you went to bed every night. Not just to alleviate the tensions and the worries that you had at his being out so late - where was he? What was he doing? Was he injured? - but also because you, quite simply, couldn’t sleep without your clown, your agent of chaos, right there beside you.

His warm, strong arm slung carelessly over your waist, his fingers beneath the hem of the shirt you slept in because skin on skin contact was something special for the two of you, something which kept you both firmly grounded in reality and proved to the both of you that you were both needed and loved, his leg between both of yours so that you were anchored together, his heartbeat in your ear, his deep and steady breaths the accompaniment to your own…

You could sleep in no other way, and though J rarely voiced all the ways in which you helped him did you know that it was much the same for him. So deeply connected and in love with each other were you that you simply knew things about the other, even and most especially when they were left unvoiced but not unacknowledged.

On nights like this was the sentiment returned with J’s actions. He was nothing if not a man of his word, after all.

At two in the morning precisely did you hear a series of taps and other noises at the window of your bedroom. You were freaked out and panicked until you heard a muffled cackle, the sound slightly strained.

“J!” You marched over to the window and threw open the pane, which enabled your exhausted and chaotic clown to tumble in to your room gracelessly, as his head came through the window and then his legs followed, the rest of his body folding in on itself as he fell to the floor. You shut the window before you bent down to smooth your hands through J’s hair, which was slightly greasy and in desperate need of another round of dye. “What the hell are you doing?”

A dramatic grunt was your only response. More seconds passed and still did J remain on the floor, unmoving, and you realised that he was exhausted. Used were you to J pushing his body, strong though it was, past its limits, so you easily slid your arms beneath his armpits and hoisted him up as you mentally cursed him out for not taking care of himself. J was helping you as best as he could, his head hung low, his limbs limp as you got him onto the bed.

You pulled off his shoes, setting them against the wall beneath the radiator. Sat him up to shed him of his purple trench, his tie, his waistcoat and his braces. You left him in his purple work shirt, a few buttons did you undo so that it was easier for him to move around in his sleep and his pinstripe trousers. You even took off his eccentric socks so that his feet could get some breathing space.

Your next trip was to the bathroom. Quickly did you assemble a bowl of hot soapy water and a flannel. J was already starting to lightly snore and that was a sure sign that he was really and truly tired. You had been working methodically all the while, talking to J while you touched him so that he knew what you were doing to him at all times, always so guarded was he. Most especially when he was like this, however, was he clingy, and it was easier for him to stay asleep if he could hear you at the very edge of his consciousness telling him that you would be back in a minute, he was safe.

Carefully did you sit down beside his head on the bed, moving slowly. Periodically did J crack a single dark eye open, though upon seeing it was you did his eye slide shut once more. Right now was he showing you the biggest and more sincere display of trust which you could have ever asked for, and you renewed a private vow in that moment. Never would you betray J’s trust in you, never would you betray this moment, right here and right now.

You would rather die than betray J in any way, such were the depths of your loyalty and devotion.

A large patch of white greasepaint in the middle of J’s forehead had completely worn away and your eyes stayed on that spot as your hand dipped into the bowl of hot soapy water. You took a minute to just enjoy the serenity and stillness of this moment; of the smell of J’s greasepaint and of the soap you had chosen, of the slow rising and falling of J’s deep breaths, of the way he looked so beautiful laid out before you like this, trusting you so implicitly with himself and with his continued safety, to just enjoy the heat of the water against your skin.

Oh, shit, you loved him.

You loved J.

You had known for the longest of time, but moments like this really hammered it all home for you, so much so that your heart was currently squeezing in your chest.

You wrung out the flannel and - wait, you wanted to do something which was super romantic and made you feel all warm and fuzzy. If J had been awake, really awake, there was no way you would ever do this, but before you began to wipe off his paint did you slowly, slowly move forward so that you could press a tender kiss to the bare patch of skin, your lips lingering against his skin. With the softest smile did you pull away, resuming your previous position, as you began to wipe off J’s greasepaint with slow, gentle wipes. The minute traces of your love from your kiss would now be rubbed into J’s skin, seeping into his pores and reaching him on the inside.

J’s eyes shot open at the touch of the flannel and you shushed him gently. “It’s okay, J. It’s just me, it’s Y/N. You’re safe.”

“Safe… mine… safe.” J’s eyes closed once more and you felt his body relax into the mattress. Only then did you continue cleaning his face, your heart clenching at his simple words, heavy with exhaustion but just as weighted with a multitude of emotions. You traced around to his right temple and cleaned off that side of his face and then you went around to the left. You left his chin and his scars for last, and when finally did the rest of J’s face only have a lighter hue than the rest of his skin (he even painted his ears, bless him) did you begin to gently, gently dab at his scars and mouth. Red and white smeared together and you leaned in as close to him as you could get away with, concentrating on getting as much greasepaint out of every crevice and crack in his scars.

“There he is,” You hummed, “My handsome clown.”

As more and more of J was revealed until at last was he bare faced before you at almost three in the morning did you feel your own physical and mental tiredness begin to creep in. Calling it a day did you go to the bathroom to dump out the murky water and get yourself ready for bed, before going back into the bedroom to tuck J in. He was supporting himself on his elbows in the bed, squinting at the doorway while he waited for you. He had been awake the entire time you had been looking after him, and it had touched some long forgotten, often neglected part of him. The word love didn’t cross his mind, not really, but the words mine and Y/N had merged together into one, and he rather felt that now did the two of you belong to each other in equal measures.

You crawled into bed beside J and let your body relax. The weight of J beside you in the large bed, the steady rhythm of his deep breathing, the warmth which was practically radiating off of him… you were home, now.

A grunt beside you told you that J was still awake, as did the arm which snaked around your waist and pulled you back into a firm chest. “Get a good look at ‘em, did’ya? Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” Teasing though the question sounded, there was a definite edge to his voice. Did J think you had been mocking him?

You didn’t even have to think about it. Yes, he had.

You brought a hand up and over your shoulder. You felt J jerk his head back but you persisted. Finally did J allow you to slide your fingers into his hair, your fingers lightly scratching against his scalp. J almost purred as he tilted into your touch, so feline in nature could he be. “I meant it. Every word. I thought you knew me better than that.” And now you were the one with hurt feelings.

Your hand slid deeper into his hair as J dipped his head to press an open mouthed kiss to your neck. It was an apology for being snappy and an acknowledgement of your kindness. It was the best you were going to get and you knew it.

“Come on, J,” You turned around so that you could face him, pointedly leaning forward so that you could lean your forehead against his, a hand coming up to rest over his heart so that you could feel that he was as alive and as real as you were. “Let’s get some sleep.” You paused and then, “I love you.”

The sleepy hum and the way J pressed his forehead against yours for just a moment said everything he wouldn’t:

I love you too.

Destructive raccoon boii™ @nothing-but-a-comedy @jokershyena @anyatheladyclown @mijachula @joker-daddy @rinbyo @imightaswellnotexistatall @vladtoly @joker-is-my-hero @liz-rdwitch @enigmaticandunstable @ledgerskitten @tsukiakarinobara @germansarechill @ezziesworld @antonija89 @acw1

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thevampireauthoress · 5 years

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One Shot Fic: Time-Breaker

Jameson was late, again, but this time it wasn’t his fault... not quite. You just can’t get this brand of hat anymore, pursuing it was the only option, he told himself as he kept a firm grip on it. In those elongated moments, the rhythm of the raindrops splashing and his feet hitting the ground seemed to be the only sounds in the city. He fished his pocket watch out of his waistcoat and tried to hold it still enough to read. Giving up, he dropped it back into his pocket next to a scrap of paper. He would have to apologise to his client for his tardiness.

Tardy described Jameson Jackson very well. Never the first one anywhere and often delayed on understanding jokes, though many times the first to tell them. His fashion was late and so were his mannerisms, but in a city such as this it was easily waved away. He was grateful for that.

He slowed as he reached again into his pocket. Drawing out the scrap of paper, he squinted at the barely legible scrawl. Next to the dumpster - Carthage Street. Carthage Street was close, or it had been the last time he was here. Following his foggy memory, he arrived with a suspicious lack of difficulty. With a name like Carthage, Jameson expected it to smell burning and salt, instead the stench of old garbage and urine met his nostrils. Towering blocks of sardine-can flats lined the street; a cat hissed in the darkness, startling him.

Against his better judgment, Jameson made his way down the passage; thin, artificial city light crawled around corners, trying to peek at the dingy scene. A bundle of scraps against the wall moved as he approached, both parties hesitant. Jameson’s footsteps echoed as he came closer until the figure sat up to face him. Their skin was so translucent it looked grey as it reflected the strangled streetlights, everything about the thin man was pale, aside from his hair. Thick and dark, slick with grease and possibly infested with something Jameson didn’t want to think about. A dull, barely cognisant recognition showed on his face.

“You... came?” Eyes, misty with early cataracts, shone with diluted hope.

Jameson forced his hands into slow but brief answers, “I’m late. Sorry.”

“Safe now?”

Jameson hesitated, “Yes.”

The figure shifted, standing on unsteady legs, grasping for Jameson’s gloved hands, which he gave. As he stood the pale form upright, a violent thumping came from the dumpster. Freeing his hands, he turned to the young man with scars on his face,

“What was that sound?”

“Bad man? Dinner?” Hungry eyes moved towards the sound.

Jameson decided not to ask what he meant. The young man swiped his striped sleeve over his mouth, wiping away a string of saliva. Glancing over the pile of scrap the man had been unearthed from, he seemed to have no personal effects. Odd, Jameson mused, distinctly odd. Finding no more reason to stay in an alleyway that reeked sweetly of rotting things, he gestured to his companion.

“Time to go.”

“W....wait,” the soft slur of speech spilled from trembling lips, “who’ll look after my rats?”

“I don’t know... but they will be fine.” he added as the milky eyes grew concerned.

“Where we goin’?”

“A better place.” Jameson really hoped he was right as he took his companion’s elbow and led him through the streets. The man’s slight stoop and shuffling gait made for slow going, so unbearably comparable to the movement of the earth’s crust that Jameson considered asking the man if he wished to be carried.

Instead he focused on getting a good look at his companion; his messy hair had a purple tint to it, hands with dirt-clogged nails played constantly with his ruined sleeves. Eyes dark with bruise-like circles around them were starting to close in tiredness.

“Have you been on the streets long?”

“Always.”

Jameson’s eyes narrowed in thought, but he said nothing, only stroked the strange man’s arm. The stench of decay had followed the man, clinging to his skin like ticks.

Wall after wall of dirty, graffiti-covered city block passed the pair, until Jameson began to recognise the neon signs and sharp corners as being close to his client’s meeting place, he checked his watch and drew in a sharp breath through his teeth. His companion turned at the sound.

“Nearly there.” Jameson soothed.

“You stay with me?”

Again Jameson hesitated,“No.”

The man’s eyes glistened wetly and, without a word, wrapped himself in a hug around Jameson’s midsection. Jameson tensed at the sudden, unexpected contact, but put a hand on his charge’s back.

“Come visit!” A muffled, teary voice pleaded.

He brought his arms into the grayscale man’s sightline.

“I will do my best.”

Jameson never made promises that weren’t contracts, signed by both parties, but he really did intend to keep this one.

Turning the last corner, someone in a long-sleeved shirt and beret was waiting for them, in the unlit street Jameson couldn’t see their face. Standing with his charge at the alley’s mouth, he waited for his heart to slow before moving his hands in speech.

“I apologise for my lateness.”

“Worry not, my friend, you are here now.” A thick, jovial french accent answered him. “And you have brought the young man. Good, good.”

Jameson nodded the stooping man forward, in his periphery, he noticed a door to his left swing into the house. The pale figure sniffed the air, unsure. His tentative, scuffing footsteps marked his ungainly movements. Jameson gazed at both figures, his client and his charge.

“Take care of him, please.” He signed, partly at his client, partly to the universe.

A smile twinkled in anonymity’s eclipse. “Of course we shall.”

As the shadow-toned beret wearer drew the pale man into the dark, towards the open doorway, Jameson noticed many pairs of glittering eyes staring out. He wondered how many washes it would take to get the smell out of his gloves as he made his departure.

The clouds overhead glowed an eerie hue of orange and brown, yellow lights and walls of dark brick passed him as he walked. Was it the light pollution or the peculiarities that happen around him sepia-toning the world? He wasn’t entirely certain.

Time breaks around Jameson. He isn’t sure why. Threads of ideas try to pull themselves together but they tangle when he tries to interfere. Minutes and hours slip away like fleeting laughter. Weeks. Months. Years. He loses track of everything and everyone, but nothing seems to change. An anomaly is he, Jameson decides. Never fitting in but never being overtly questioned, like a spare vigilante in a comic. Hero or villain; he wondered where that arc would take him, if he chose such a career trajectory.

A woman with a scarf around her face met him on a corner, a piece of paper in her hands. Fixing his monocle in his eye and smoothing his moustache, Jameson sighed and read the contents. Nodding and signing it, he disappeared down a dead end alley and didn’t come out.

......

Schneep / Jackie / Marvin / Chase / Anti (?)

......

PART 2 BABEY... I’m not as happy with this one, but I can’t figure out what I’m not happy with -_-

I honestly don’t know what this is, I guess it’s because JJ seems so disconnected from all the other egos, he seems like a perfect go-between between canon and non-canon. Also I wanted to write the zombie boi and time anomalies. Sue me!

More ego one shots coming soon, any constructive feedback you could give would be greatly appreciated. Thank you.

Tagging everyone from last time plus a couple more who expressed interest :3 (if you don’t want to be tagged or if you do, shoot me a message)

@kate807 @drunkpmacultist @sptgd @lilakennedy @kcarrollworld @khushiudasi @luvstoriesatstoplights2 @flamingarbagecan @rozapast @aaliyah-j-hall @septicuniverse @chaotic-cheshire @the-rampaige @maybekatie @amyxmiaplay

#jacksepticeye #jacksepticeye community #jse egos #jameson jackson #robbie the zombie #youtuber egos #ego fanfic #jacksepticeye fanfiction #fanfic #the vampire talks shit #the vampire writes #jameson #jj #dapper jack #jj appreciation week #time-breaker one shot #one shot

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ajokeformur-ray · 4 years

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Close to you // J x Lilith // nighttime comforts.

Summary: Plagued are you by nightmares and sleep paralysis. J, in all his wisdom, doesn’t realise that you’re not asking for him to lay with you while you sleep for the sake of it. No, you need him this night. Your needs, such as they are, only serve to bring the two of you closer. J has an epiphany of his own and you are faced with the startling realisation that there can be silver linings in every cloud; even the most terrifying. @jokershyena

Warnings: mentions of nightmares, mentions of sleep paralysis, J is a grumpy raccoon, slightly tense conversation which is easily settled.

Female pronouns, body parts and ‘Lilith’ is used as the name but I guess you can swap things out as needed x

Word count: 2, 516.

You and J had something of a strange... arrangement.

You weren't friends.

You weren't dating.

You instead rested in the space between friendship and something more.

J crashed at your place so often that he practically lived with you. He had first started to drop by when he needed to lay low for a while or when he had been injured taunting Batman once again. His favourite way to enter your apartment was through the window, even though it would be so much easier for him to use the door.

The amount of times he came to your home clutching an arm or limping, his purple trench soiled with blood, scared and worried you beyond measure and each time did you patch up his wounds through gritted teeth and teary eyes. J would always roll his eyes at you, his huffs of irritation making you almost tempted to leave him to deal with his own injuries. You never did, though, for your fear always ended up overriding any anger which you felt towards him and you would inevitably give in to your innate need to take care of him. His recklessness would be the death of you one day, of this you were sure.

Another thing of which you were sure was that this night did you feel unsafe. Wary. Frightened of what lay within your mind and within your bedroom. All ready for bed were you but still did you feel hesitant to go to bed. Something just felt off and you knew that you wouldn't be sleeping at all this night. Unless... unless you could get J to lay with you. It was a long shot, but you had to try. If anyone made you feel safe, it was J. No other could do for what he did. It was clear to you that the both of you had noticed that there was something between the two of you, though it remained safe in the easy silence which often occurred between the two of you.

You lingered in the doorway of the living room, your hands wringing the hem of J's purple shirt. You loved to sleep in it every night. It surrounded you with his scent and it reminded you of his presence in your life. It was oddly sentimental but you needed this small gesture. You needed to know that J was with you each and every day, in even the smallest of ways.

Currently was J sat on the sofa, sharpening his knives. There was a small mountain of knives, grenades, and other metal pieces which you couldn't identify. He was sat in his green waistcoat and another of those purple shirts. Once J had found out that you felt safer wearing his shirts to go to bed, he had bought several of the same. One day he would wear one and that night would you wear it; and the cycle continued. You fell asleep to the smell of gasoline, gunpowder and something distinctly J every night and nothing grounded you faster; except perhaps his touch.

“Spit it out, doll.” J's gruff voice made you jump and you smiled despite yourself, feeling something sickly low in your throat.

“Can you – J, do you think you could - “ At your inability to form a coherent sentence did J put down his knife and the stone with which he was sharpening it. His intense chocolate gaze penetrated your hesitation and gave you the strength and the courage which you needed to say, “Do you think you could sleep with me tonight? I'm really scared.”

“Sleep with you?” J adopted a high pitched tone with which to mock you and broke out into laughter which sent chills down your spine. “Are you kidding?!” His incredulous tone made tears spring to your eyes as humiliation flowed through you. “You're almost twenty, you don't need me to sit with you. What are ya', a child?!”

Oh, now you were really crying, your tears hot and heavy as they poured down your face. You brought your hands up to cover your face, fingers pressing lightly on your eyes as if you could stop the tears from falling. You didn't know what you were going to do now. You needed J to keep you safe, to stay by you. Nothing and no one could harm you if he was beside you.

There was the soft clinking of metal on wood and the rustling of material. The dull thudding of booted footsteps on the plush carpet came closer to you, and a hand wrapped around your wrist and tugged.

“Look at me. Lilith.” You sniffled but allowed J to tug your hands away from your face, glaring at him as best as you could through your copious tears. “Why the tears, hm?”

You blinked fiercely to clear the tears from your eyes and let your growing anger show through. “You don't have to be a dick about it, J! I let you come and go, I let you stay here, I clean your wounds and I take care of you. So don't make fun of me when I ask for you something as simple as sleeping beside me.” Your words came tumbling past your trembling lips, your voice soft but your tone strong. You could get really angry really quickly, and right now was no exception. You were especially vulnerable right now and for J, your closest connection to any other person, to make fun of you? Oooh, it made your blood boil.

“What – are you afraid of, doll? I've seen ya' go head to head with some of my men, so what's so scary about tonight?” J's voice was rough, as it always was, and despite the clear lack of understanding, the lack of empathy, and the obvious mocking tone, you could still see that there was... something in his eyes, some kind of question, some need to get to know this part of you. “C'mon, let me show ya',” With his grip still on your wrist did J walk with you to the bedroom. You felt like you were being babied, and your anger was only mounting. “There's nothin' here.”

“Yeah, nothing you can see.” You yanked your hand out of J's slightly harsh grip, and swiped your hand impatiently over your face. “Just go, J. Whatever. I'll be fine.” You wouldn't be. You wouldn't, but what could you do? You started to ignore him and you just did what you usually did when you were getting ready for bed.

Your tears kept falling and you let out a soft noise of frustration. No one ever understood just how much you had to go through each and every night... Terrible nightmares, sleep paralysis... you were always so tired and you survived on naps and chunks of sleep which never really sustained you for more than a few hours.

J stood in the doorway watching you, before he grunted and turned around. He left you, he left, and you felt a noise crawl its way up your throat. It ripped its way out and you sobbed properly, feeling more alone in your torment than you ever had. Did J even care about you the way that you cared about him? You slammed your bedroom door shut as hard as you physically could and stormed across the room before you climbed into bed, your mind heavy with fog and the pain of rejection, the haze of anger which descended over you like a red cloak, and you pulled the duvet up to your chin, doing your best to get as comfortable as you could even with what you knew was waiting for you. What was waiting for you every night.

You sobbed into your pillow, your anger giving way to your sorrow and the way you had been so coldly treated in a moment of real vulnerability. How dare he treat you like that? Never mind how much you did for him, the extent to which you had turned your entire life upside down just to make room for him in your life. You were so upset, so angry, that when the door creaked open, you let out a startled noise and pulled the duvet up and over your head. Had you fallen asleep and not even noticed? Were you dreaming?

Quick footsteps and the duvet was pulled away from you. “Easy, easy,” The familiar scent of J filled you and you gasped shakily. Hands on your face, rough thumbs wiping your tears away. “It's just me, Lilith.” He sighed heavily and left you again, but this time he went around to the other side of the bed. He was now wearing one of the pairs of pyjamas which you had bought for him when he had first started to crash at your place. J climbed in beside you with another sigh.

“You can go if you're that annoyed, J.” You snapped, hurt preventing you from showing your relief.

“No, no,” J sighed again, but he slung an arm around your waist. You smiled despite yourself and brought a slow hand up to interlock your fingers with his. J squeezed your fingers and you returned the gesture, and you understood. J had seen you just enough to understand that this wasn't a childish notion, that this was real fear and that you needed him, and though he wouldn't pry, he wouldn't ask, he would be with you now. It was as much of an apology as you were going to get, and you both knew it. “Get – ah, get comfy. I got'cha.”

You settled into J, hesitantly resting your head on his chest, your eyes shut tight against the horrors which you knew dwelled within the room. Just as that thought occurred to you, a floorboard creaked and you jumped in J's arms, making him chuckle. It was a strained noise, and you realised that your reality was starting to register within his mind.

“Shshsh,” J shushed you quickly, quietly, and the arm around your waist tightened. “The apartment's old, sweetheart. Temp-er-ature changes and all that.”

Even with his reassuring words did you roll to really cling to J, and he cooed. It was a noise stained with mocking, his other words quaking with suppressed laughter. You were beginning to shake and J tightened his arms around you even more. Clearly, his amusement wasn't the only thing he was feeling; he was trying to comfort you as best as he could.

“I got'cha, Lilith. Nothin's gettin' to ya'. Won't let it.” J was beginning to mumble now, his body melting into the mattress which cushioned your bodies, and you realised that he was just as sleepy as you were. It made you smile into the darkness to know that he was willing to be vulnerable with you. He trusted you.

“Thank you, J.”

“Mm-hm. Do ya', ah, wanna' tell me about it?”

Did you? You thought about it, but you ultimately decided to do so. “I suffer from nightmares. Sleep paralysis... Night-time is really scary for me, J, and you're the only one I know will keep me safe from me.”

“Ohhhhh~,” J showed his understanding in a breathy exhale. “It all makes, ah, sense now.”

The warmth of his body, the heavy but comforting weight of his arms around you, of his scent, his breath in your hair and the rise and fall of his chest... His heartbeat... You inhaled deeply, held it and exhaled slowly.

“Shshsh,” J continued to shush you lowly, soothingly, and you snuggled in as close as you could. You were practically on top of him now, so desperate were you for all that he was prepared to give you. “Don't gotta' worry. Would it help if I, ah, if I stayed with ya' every night?”

You gasped despite yourself, grinning into the darkness. You hardly dared to believe what you were hearing. “J, you don't have to - “

“Would. It. Help? Doll.” Biting irritation. Soothing, gentle touches. It was a complete contradiction but it was so J that you felt yourself unable to be hurt by how he was spoken to you.

“Yes. A lot. Like, a lot a lot.”

J chuckled. “Well – ah, all right then.”

It was a promise.

Silence lapsed and you closed your eyes, getting comfortable and ready to fall asleep surrounded by all that J was, all that he was giving you.

Just on the precipice of sleep were you when J shook you lightly in his hold, making you groan sleepily.

“What?” You whined and a hand swept through your hair, grounding you.

“Lilith, I... you and me, we - “ J groaned and his arms loosened so much around you that you were both able to move. You stayed where you were, though, curious. J shifted so that he could press a hot, muscular leg to your own, his foot pushing lightly against your shin. He wanted in, and you parted your legs just enough for J to slot his leg between your own. He sighed then, sleepily, and wrapped his arms back around you, nuzzling his face into the warm crook of your neck. “Wanna keep it. You.”

You stiffened, so many emotions rising within you that you didn't know where to even begin with it all, your mind heavy and foggy with sleepiness, your body alight with euphoria. “J, wha - “

“No, shush, listen,” J pressed a chaste kiss to your neck and you tipped your body into his, encouraging him. This was beyond your hopes for tonight. You had asked him to stay and it seemed that, in his own thoughts, J had decided to make that to be a more permanent arrangement. “I want ya', Lilith. Want this.” He squeezed you pointedly. “Yes or no.”

It wasn't romantic, but it didn't need to be. You both just knew that, though this wouldn't be conventional, or easy, or even accepted socially, so feared and revered was he by all in Gotham, it still just was. No one had ever bothered to even get close to him, for who he was, but you had. You had initially been scared, but you knew that if he was going to hurt you then he would have already, and so you felt no qualms in allowing J to approach you sometimes when you were walking through the grimy streets late in the evening, or even in broad daylight.

You sniffled, hot tears brewing in your tear ducts again, and before J could ask what was wrong, you moved just enough to tip your head back so that you could press a kiss to J's still painted face, your lips lingering against his skin. “Yes. Please.”

A sleepy grunt was all the answer you received in light of your new arrangement, but it was enough. You had J, and he had you, and with your meeting had come the birth of serendipity.

Destructive raccoon boii(tm) @nothing-but-a-comedy @jokershyena @anyatheladyclown @mijachula @joker-daddy @rinbyo @imightaswellnotexistatall @vladtoly @joker-is-my-hero @liz-rdwitch @enigmaticandunstable @ledgerskitten @tsukiakarinobara @germansarechill @ezziesworld

#heath ledger #heath ledger imagine #heath ledger x reader #heath ledger joker #heath ledger joker x reader #heath ledger joker imagine #ledger joker x reader #ledger!joker imagine #ledger joker #ledger!joker #ledger!joker x reader #ledger!joker fanfic #ledger!joker x reader imagine #the dark knight #the dark knight imagine #the dark knight x reader #tdk #tdk imagine #tdk x reader

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