TW: Slightly steamy?? Not smut by any means, but I wanna let y'all know in advance just in case this stuff makes you uncomfortable!

   Your first day of shadowing the Joker was strange. Being constantly glued to his side as he talked with Frost, drew up plans for future missions, and watched TV... It felt like you were no longer on his team. Instead, it felt like you were his pet whose only purpose in life was to keep him company. Granted, you had waived the right of being considered a true member of his team when you fucked up a mission. So, you knew this was a fair punishment, but it still displeased you that you would be viewed as less than. It was such a hit to your ego. The cherry on top of it all was that whenever you or Joker used the bathroom, you two would have to constantly communicate through the door so that he knew you weren't running away or being unruly. You felt so hopeless that you didn't know how you'd continue living a life like this.

And, just when you thought you couldn't take it anymore, Joker told you it was time for bed.

You sighed gratefully. Finally, a reprieve from his constant presence and chatter. Well, he would still be present, but not really. It's not like he would be spooning you or anything. You could simply shut your eyes and pretend this wasn't happening to you, and that the Clown Prince of Crime wasn't sleeping next to you.

Joker had accompanied you to your room earlier that day so you could transport some of your clothes to his. So, his drawers and closet were already stocked with your belongings. It was a little strange to have your possessions so close to each other; after all, that seemed like quite an intimate thing. But, you knew it wasn't intended to be an intimate thing. It was intended to keep you right under his thumb, where you belonged.

You opened Joker's closet, rooting around for your pajamas. If you had thought that your closet was big, then his was fucking massive. Yours was walk-in, but it still felt like a closet. His almost felt like a whole other room. It stretched on and on, clothes taking up every square inch of empty space.

Eventually, you found the pair of pajamas that you had grown most fond of: a blue tank top with soft, blue pants to go with it. It allowed for the perfect balance of temperature, with your arms exposed but your legs fully covered. It kept your body at a blissful equilibrium, and you needed to be as blissful as possible tonight.

You emerged from the closet to find Joker opening one of the various drawers that his bureau contained, fishing for his own pajamas.

"I'm gonna go change," you announced.

He turned to look at you and nodded, smirking. "Just be sure to keep talking as you do, doll."

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. You wished that he would believe you when you said you wouldn't do anything. Besides, what could you do in the fucking bathroom? Call for help? Absolutely not; he'd hear you and put a stop to that real fast. And even if he hadn't, you knew that whatever law enforcement came would be no match for him. And even if they somehow managed to beat him, you'd just get arrested, too. Talk about counterproductive! Escaping from prison just to go to prison.

You had to count your blessings. And one of those was that this was at least a comfortable prison. Real prison would not be like this. Instead of sleeping in a comfortable king-sized bed, you'd be sleeping on a hard, run-down mattress, or even the floor. Instead of getting exquisite, home-cooked meals, you'd get slop that was somehow marketed to be edible. For all the shit that Joker talked, he was surprisingly giving in some areas. He could easily just toss you in a room, lock the door, and never have you see the light of day again. That, or brutally kill you in cold blood. But, he decided to have you retain most of the benefits of being involved with him. All except your immunity from death.

"I won't," you replied simply, walking into the bathroom that was connected to his room.

You shut the door behind you, pressing your back to it. This was gonna be a weird night, but it was better than any alternative you could conjure up.

"How ya doin' in there?" came Joker's voice from the other side of the door.

It took everything in you not to groan. But, you knew you had to be good and fight the urge to mouth off. "Fine, just changing now."

And with that, you peeled off your clothes and replaced them with the pajamas. To fill the silence, you just started loudly humming a tune so that he wouldn't continue bothering you with his incessant questions.

When you were done changing, you opened the door, but didn't emerge from the bathroom just yet. "Now I'm gonna brush my teeth. Come and watch if you want."

And with that, Joker walked to the bathroom's doorway and stood there, observing you as you squeezed toothpaste onto your toothbrush, which you also brought from your room.

You turned to look at him, and your heart leaped when you saw what exactly it was that he wore to bed. Or rather, what he didn't wear to bed.

All he had changed into was a pair of black sweatpants. Not a shirt in sight.

You tried to stop yourself from staring, but your eyes drifted downward on what felt like their own accord. You had never seen his body before, and it surely did not disappoint. His chest was just as pale as his face, and tattoos covered the sickly flesh. Despite his ghostly complexion, he looked unbelievably healthy in the sense that he was very muscular. A deep line ran down the center of his stomach, emphasizing just how built he was. His abs were especially note-worthy as well, as were the veins that bulged out of his arms with every movement.

You managed to tear your eyes away from the sickeningly beautiful sight, looking into his own eyes instead. He appeared to have noticed your staring, since he was smiling slyly.

You needed to say something to distract him from the embarrassing situation you had created. Anything.

"Do you not brush your teeth?" you asked, referring to him simply staring at you and not brushing his own teeth. You were very obviously trying to latch onto any small thing that made him unappealing. You needed that dose of displeasure. Otherwise, you weren't sure how you'd be able to get through the night.

With a chuckle, he shook his head. "Not at night."

"Gross."

You immediately tensed. He had said earlier today that if you displeased him in any way, you were dead. And you figured that an insult to his hygiene was definitely displeasing to him.

   But, to your surprise, he just laughed.

   As you brushed your teeth, he silently observed you. It felt odd, having him stare at you when he was hardly clothed. Again, this felt like an intimate experience, not one that you and your boss should be sharing. You couldn't tell if you were pleased with this experience or unnerved. After all, he made your heart race in a way no one ever had. On the other hand, he made you fear for your life. And seeing the reason for your fears be so comfortable with you... It was odd, that was for sure.

   You spat out the toothpaste, rinsing your toothbrush after. You let the water hit the bottom of the sink, causing the foamy toothpaste to circle the drain before eventually disappearing down it. You placed your toothbrush back in its holder, looking up at Joker. "I'm done," you stated, as if that weren't obvious.

   "So you are."

   He gently began to usher you back to the bedroom, pointing at the bed. "Lay down."

   You knew this was going to be weird, but you did as he asked. You peeled back the golden covers of his bed, slipping beneath them. You absently placed your hands above your head as you watched Joker rummage around for something else in his bureau. You assumed he was searching for your restraints, and all you could do was pray that they would at least be comfortable enough to sleep in.

   Eventually, he pulled out a pair of handcuffs. They didn't look particularly comfortable; they just looked like a standard pair of metal handcuffs, like the ones the police use. You knew you'd be in for a sleepless night filled with discomfort, and you couldn't keep the frown off your face at that.

   Joker laughed, approaching you as he playfully swung the cuffs around on his index finger. "What's the matter, hmm? You've never worn these before?"

   You defeatedly offered your wrists to him as he unlocked the cuffs with his key. "I've never been arrested."

   "That doesn't mean you've never worn them, sweets." Instead of cuffing both your wrists, he only did one. Your other one was still free, but that was pretty useless when he returned the key to his bureau, which was not even close to being within arm's reach. After that, he grabbed your cuffed hand and raised it above your head, that way he could successfully cuff the headboard, too.

   He did, successfully binding you to the bed. When he released your hand, you let it drop, causing your wrist to strain against the cuff. The metal was cold around your wrist, and you gently moved your arm around to test its mobility, given its newfound restraint. Unsurprisingly, you couldn't move it much, and it was still raised awkwardly above your head.

   "Well, I never have," you mumbled in reply, a little embarrassed at his innuendo. It was none of his business, yet you told him your experiences, anyway. Or, you supposed, your lack thereof. He just had this commanding vibe to him that made you want to tell him anything he wanted to know.

   "What a shame," he mused, seemingly more to himself than to you. He took his index finger and traced your sides, making this low, purring noise that you had never heard. The noise sent shivers down your spine, and it made you feel very vulnerable all of a sudden. That noise—this whole interaction, really—reminded you of when a predator had trapped its prey, and was taunting its meal before it ate it. Joker had this wild, animalistic look in his eyes, a look that said he was deeply enjoying your vulnerability. And that both terrified you and, admittedly, turned you on.

   This duality of emotions was so contradictory, yet Joker managed to pull it off every time. He played to both sides of you:

   The self-conscious, timid girl, and the crazy, wild one.

   "Ya look great in them," he finished, squeezing your side playfully.

   You flinched a little, trying to squirm away from his hand. You were very ticklish, and did not really desire to be tortured like that tonight.

   Noticing your abrupt movement, he chuckled. "It may be harder to have you in my bed than I thought."

   Holding intense eye contact with you, he traced your jawline with his fingers before sliding them down your neck, then to your shoulder, then to your side again. "Because, doll, you are captivating."

  You swallowed hard, letting your eyes flutter shut as you gladly accepted his touch. You had been so against this deal a few minutes ago, but now... He was breaking down your defenses like they were nothing. And the fact that he had you in such a vulnerable situation made you just want to surrender every aspect of yourself to him. Whatever he needed, you wanted to do it for him. If he could make you feel like this, then nothing else mattered.

   "Oh, you are certainly captivating," he reiterated, his hand caressing your thigh now.

   "You are, too," you whispered, your voice trembling. His touch was intoxicating, but you weren't sure if you'd be able to withstand any more. Otherwise, you'd start to crave things you really shouldn't have been craving. If you had given in to those cravings, you'd be emotionally bonded to the Joker for the rest of your life. And that was the last thing you wanted. After all, you were indebted to him and were under obligation to follow orders. But, you still wanted a brain of your own. And, if you had given in to what your body was wanting, you knew he'd find a way to worm his way into your every thought, your every action. You knew that your own well-being wouldn't be a concern anymore, and any sense of personality you had would be lost. You'd just be a walking extension of Joker, and even though that's what he probably wanted, you still wanted to be (Y/N). You wanted to have other thoughts.

   He bit his lip, taking his hand off of you. It looked like he was having an extremely difficult time doing so, though. "And this is why you're still alive right now," he said huskily, starting to walk to his side of the bed.

   "What do you mean?" you asked as he got under the covers next to you. It had seemed like a major detail, but you never spent much time wondering why he had let you live. It had briefly crossed your mind when he had shot at the wall, but during that period of isolation in your room, all you could think about was if he would. And, now that he had, you hadn't even bothered to question it. Your day had been full of Joker's presence, which kind of blocked your internal monologue a bit. You were never able to really think about anything when you were in company with someone.

But, now that you were thinking of it, you were extremely curious. What was his motive? From what he had just said, it seemed to be either your looks or your personality, not your criminal skill. While you were a little offended that your skill could be abandoned so easily, it made sense. After all, what little talent you had was definitely replaceable; it's not like you had some sort of superpower that was completely unique to you or anything. All you had was mediocre fighting abilities and a proficient shot. And people with those things are definitely a dime a dozen.

   "You just..." He paused, seemingly searching for the right words. He had his gaze fixated on the ceiling above you, his lips parted as he pondered.

   "You just intrigue me," he finished.

   You didn't know what you were expecting him to say, but you knew that it definitely wasn't that. "I intrigue you?"

   "Mhm."

   "Care to elaborate?" You weren't sure if his intrigue was a good or bad thing, since Harley was the last person he was fascinated by. And everyone knew how that ended: with a lot of heartbreak, but, at the same time, a lot of fame. Still, even though his fascination seemed a bit scary, it made you feel a bit flustered that you even took up space in his mind at all. So much of it was devoted to himself that you were surprised that you had managed to worm your way in. That must mean something, right? Maybe he had started growing attached to you as well.

   "I feel a sense of...devotion from you. Ya haven't exactly exhibited it well in recent days, with the mission and all, but it's there. I know it's there," he replied.

   He reached out to you, letting his hand move up and down your arm. You couldn't help it; your heart began to race, and your cheeks grew red. Seeing this reaction, he chuckled. "See? Look at you right now, doll. Any time I touch you, you get embarrassed. You rely on my praise. You're quiet, meek, easy to corrupt. You're just my type."

   "Your type?" you whispered, a little disappointed in yourself for letting your feelings be so obvious.

   "Mm, yes. There's nothing more...attractive than a devoted woman. And while you may not be devoted in a business sense, you are most definitely devoted in an emotional sense. Ya have feelings for me. I love seeing that from you, Trouble. I love knowing that you're mine."

   Him saying that so confidently, that you were his, sent a chill down your spine. "I'm yours."

   It was a statement, not a question like you had intended. He had somehow brainwashed you into actually believing it, that you were his. There was no title given to what your relationship was, no feelings declared from either side. Yet, you were his, and somehow he knew it.

   "That's what I like to hear," he purred, his voice gravelly with desire. He leaned closer to you, grabbing the wrist that wasn't cuffed and pinning it to the bed.

   You let out a surprised gasp in reply, causing him to snicker wickedly. "I didn't shoot you that day because I wanted ya. I wanted your devotion. I wanted to watch you fold before my very eyes, watch how ya relied on me. When someone is so willing to accept you for who you are, no matter your flaws...it's such a fascinating thing to watch."

   You found yourself struggling to breathe, your wrist beginning to ache with how hard he was holding onto it. You let your eyes flutter shut, letting out a small whimper. You were a little upset. After all, the only reason he hadn't killed you was for his own benefit. To watch and take advantage of your apparently obvious weakness, which was him. There had been a lingering hope that he had felt something for you, too, which was why he let you live. But, you realized now that you were naive to even consider that. Joker was a subhuman being, one that could not feel things for anyone. When presented with devotion and romantic feelings, all he could do was relish in the dominance that gave him.

However, even though you were upset, you were intrigued in return. This imbalance of power was somewhat attractive to you, despite the fact that this dynamic would only end up hurting you. No matter what kindness he showed you, no matter the intimate moments you shared...it would all be meaningless. He would just sit back and watch you swoon, watch how you reacted to him.

"I respect this devotion, (Y/N). Why do ya think I killed Dennis in your honor?" he asked you, leaning in even closer. "I saw your vulnerability since day one, along with your potential. I could see it in the way ya talked to me, the way you carried yourself. I think I knew of it before you did. And I knew that you must have a really good heart to feel things like that, especially for a man like me. So, when Dennis spoke ill of you...I felt like I owed you. If you were already so malleable, then the least I could do was protect you from men more depraved than I am. As much as people like to paint me as heartless, I'm truly not."

With a smile, he took his free hand and placed it on your chest, feeling your erratic heartbeat. "Although, I will admit, part of why I killed him was jealousy. I did not want anyone to get in the way of your budding loyalty, and if he had gotten to you, then I'd have to share the spotlight. And I love being valued above all else. It makes me feel so...powerful."

He cackled, leaning down and running his tongue along your neck. This combined with being restrained made you whimper again. Even though he knew of your feelings, and it would be a good idea to try to suppress them, you couldn't help it anymore. He was driving you wild, and he knew it.

"Yes," he muttered against your neck, nipping at it gently. You could feel his metal teeth scrape the sensitive skin, causing you to shut your eyes as your lips parted. "Show me how much ya like this."

"J—" you began, but in a flash, his head was back up, and he was pressing a finger to your lips.

"Shh." He grinned at the desire in your eyes. "Don't cheapen this moment with words, doll. Let me enjoy this. After all, that's why you're still alive. I wanted more of your care, more of your attention, and I would get neither if you were dead. And, while this deal was definitely made so that you wouldn't run away from your mistakes, it was also made to torture you with my constant presence. It was made for me to witness all of your feelings in action, all the time. All as you try to keep yourself alive. What a fun game, isn't it?! Letting you swoon over me until you inevitably fuck up, until I can take your life. I love having you around, (Y/N), but I can only tolerate so much. You will have to be punished eventually, and I'm gonna love doing it. Ya just got lucky this time around."

You kept your mouth shut, watching as his eyes kept devouring you. His gaze went from your eyes to your lips, then to your figure, then back up again. He was very obviously aroused by your helplessness, as were you. You almost wanted to kiss him.

You noticed his gaze stop on your lips this time. He leaned in, letting yours brush against his own. You couldn't breathe, and all you could do was lay still and pray that he gave you more. His soft lips were like a cushion, and you wanted to just press yourself against them and get a taste of what you had gotten on your very first mission. You envied the simplicity of that time. All you were doing was making a spectacle of yourself so that the public would look on in awe. But now, you wanted him. You wanted him for no reason other than your own pleasure.

And he wanted you, too, just in a different way. He wanted to feed off your torture. That killed you.

"You should get some sleep, doll," he whispered against your lips, refusing to connect his with yours fully.

You wanted to protest. You wanted to tell him how badly you wanted him physically, knowing that he wanted you in that way as well. That was a rejection you knew you would never have to deal with, yet you were still too nervous to ask. That, and you were too nervous to face the consequences of what would happen if you gave yourself to him.

So, you squeaked, "Yes, sir."

"Good girl." He planted a gentle kiss to your cheek, releasing the wrist that had been pinned to the bed. "Sleep for however long you'd like. I'll be here when you wake up."

You nodded, too stunned from this interaction to reply. You silently observed as he turned in the bed so that his back was facing you. His toned, muscular back.

Jesus Christ.

You exhaled quietly as he shut off the light, desperately trying to collect yourself. You had always been attracted to Joker, but this interaction sent you careening to obsession. You couldn't recall any other instance where your heart raced this fast, where you wanted someone even half as much as you wanted him.

He wanted this. He wanted this obsession, and even with that knowledge, you couldn't force yourself to fight it. You were in a state of acceptance, the euphoria of your budding feelings making your mind feel fuzzy.

You shut your eyes, desperately trying to fall asleep despite the buzzing in your mind.

Your eyes shot open as you realized something. A clear, distinct voice amidst the buzzing, speaking to you.

It had found a flaw in Joker's explanation on why you were still alive.

If he was telling the truth, then that would mean that his motives were impure. This was definitely typical of him, and being impure seemed to bring him more happiness than anything else. Impurity directly benefited him.

Why, then, did he look so angry at himself for sparing you? If he had truly meant to witness and feed off of your obsession, why wouldn't he be happy? Why had he been frowning that day? Why was he wincing when you thanked him for sparing you?

You struggled against your binds, trying to get comfortable as you continued to mull it over.

You knew Joker well enough to know that there was definitely some truth to what he was saying, since, again, the want for a constant ego stroke would be typical of him.

   But, you wondered if you were being told the whole truth.

   Why had he really saved you? What was the full story?