TW: VERY VERY STEAMY!! VAGUE DESCRIPTIONS OF SEX, BRIEF DESCRIPTION OF TOUCHING/UNDRESSING! 18+ ONLY!!

   The following few days were rough, but you managed to push through. Your arm was healing pretty well, and you could see that because Joker was adamant on changing your dressings once in the morning and once at night. Every time the gauze came off, it looked a little better. You knew there would come a time in the near future where you had to get your stitches removed, and you could feel your stomach clench with anxiety at the thought. Just by looking at them, it looked as if a doctor had done them, meaning that Joker was likely very medically skilled. But, you feared that even he couldn't make it painless.

As the days turned to weeks, you started to be able to use more of your injured arm. You could now lift it above your head, hold heavy things, the whole nine yards. You had abandoned your dressings completely, but Joker was still hesitant to remove your stitches. He said he wanted to make sure that it was fully healed before he tried anything, and that it was better to be safe than sorry. You trusted him, even though your stitches were definitely negative style points.

During these weeks, there had been no new activity from Two-Face or his goons. At least, no activity that you knew of. Joker was very tense, though, waiting for something to happen. He had the mansion's doors locked constantly, and his eyes always seemed to be darting around now, looking for threats. He minimized the amount of times he went out, which meant that you rarely went out, either. After all, you were still obligated to spend every waking moment with him due to your new deal. You still slept next to him every night, uncomfortably cuffed to the headboard. And it was there you noticed that he even seemed to sleep restlessly. He would toss and turn, even get up and lock himself in the bathroom for as long as thirty minutes. His behavior was definitely starting to scare you.

You were presently sat at the vanity you had pressured him to add to his room, looking in the mirror as you applied mascara to your lashes. He had been spoiling you rotten lately, giving you makeup, clothes, anything you desired. You weren't sure why, but you figured that he felt bad for keeping you cooped up in the house so much, and for scaring you with his out of character attitude. While his gifts didn't completely mute out your unease, it was definitely a start.

Joker was sat on the bed you two shared, just watching you. You could see his form in the mirror, his now perpetually unsettled face.

You were happy to see his expression shift slightly as his lips turned upward in a smile. "Why're you getting all dolled up today, sweets? We're not goin' anywhere."

You smiled in return, placing the wand of your mascara back into the tube. You turned in your chair so that you were facing him, placing the tube back in your makeup bag. "I know we're not. I just like to do makeup for fun."

He nodded. "Interesting." After a pause, his smile widened a little. "Well, it looks stunning on ya."

The genuine compliment made your heart skip a beat. He had been so wholesome with you as of late that it felt...odd. But, it was odd in the best way. "You implying that I don't look good without it?" you teased.

"No, not at all. It's just that you with makeup on versus without... They're two different types of pretty. And I love to see both."

Joker, the womanizer who used then subsequently discarded girls without a second thought, had made the most wholesome comment he could've made. He had found the medium that most men had not. Most men either complained that women wore too much makeup, or not enough. Very few men appreciated women with and without, but somehow, the most evil of them all managed to.

You thought that maybe he was trapping you. Saying whatever he could to make you fall even harder for him. After all, he was attracted to your obsession, and he had made that clear. But, something in the way he was looking at you just kept reinforcing the idea that he was being genuine. You had seen a new side of him when he had saved you from Two-Face's grunts, and you were seeing it again now. You knew that no one else had ever seen this side. This kindness in his eyes, saved special for you.

"I bet you say that to all the girls." You put your makeup bag away, standing up so that you were looming over him.

"No, Trouble. Just one girl."

Seeing the evolution of his flirting was beyond interesting to you. When you had first arrived at the house, it had a sexual, sneaky undertone. Now, it was sweet and intimate. Of course, he still had a sleazy side that he showed quite often, but now, it shared the spotlight with that newer version of himself. And the fact that his sleazy side could ever be diminished would baffle those that knew him. Even those that knew of him. After all, the public thought the two of you were dating, but you got the vibe that they thought you two had a very different relationship than the one you actually had. Whenever you had heard whisperings about the two of you, people seemed to compare your relationship to his and Harley's. They seemed to think it was just a joyride for the both of you, one where you could wreak havoc with someone, share their crazy, and have a hot fuck afterward. In reality, the two of you had a more profound bond than that, even if you weren't technically dating.

"Oh, you flatter me," you smiled. You stepped away from him and turned toward the full-length mirror that hung on the open closet door. You looked at your figure, snatched in a navy blue dress. "So, if we're not going anywhere, what's the plan for today?"

"Same as always. Just sit at home and maybe have a few drinks." He smiled back at you, but it was a very empty smile. One of discontentment. He was clearly going stir-crazy, since he was less than accustomed to being cooped up all day.

You sighed, but nodded. You missed the outside world so much that you had begun to view this lavish mansion as a prison. You had done everything there was to do in these past few weeks, and you were starting to get bored. You almost wanted to just strut outside and wait for Two-Face to find you, that way you had something to do. Even if you had gotten hurt, at least you wouldn't be bored. To your dismay, Joker still wouldn't let you train with him due to your injured shoulder. But, at this point, you would've gladly been his punching bag, injured or not. You just wanted something, anything, to pass the time.

Sensing your unhappiness, he let his smile fall. "I know it's not ideal. But, once we find him, it'll all be over. I've got spies searching everywhere, (Y/N). Trust that this will be resolved."

Despite the prospect being less than promising, you couldn't help but believe him. Even on his most hopeless day, Joker was more confident than you were on your best. He made you feel safe even in the most unsafe situations.

You nodded again, sitting down on the bed next to him. "I trust you."

He grinned slyly as he rested a hand on your thigh. "Good."

A silence enveloped the two of you, a silence which was eventually broken by sudden, harsh knocking on the door of the bedroom.

Something in the knock sounded desperate. So, you hopped up from the bed and quickly opening the door.

Frost was standing there, and he looked beyond panicked. He was pale, and a thin veil of sweat coated his face. His eyes were wild, wilder than you had ever seen them.

You opened your mouth to ask him what was wrong, but he shoved right past you. "Boss!" he gasped, walking over to the concerned Joker, who had stood up. As Frost moved, you saw that he was holding a piece of paper in his hands, which were covered in thick, protective gloves. "We got a problem!"

You followed Frost, heart beginning to sink. This was bad. Very bad. And something in you told you that it would be bad enough to set Joker off.

Frost thrust his arm outward, showing the piece of paper to his boss. Joker reached out to take it from him, but he yanked it away. "Careful, it could be laced."

Unbothered by Frost's warning, Joker snatched the paper anyway. He read it over, and you could tell he was finished by the way his expression darkened.

You walked behind Joker, peering at the paper. It was heavily wrinkled, and it looked to have been torn from a notebook of some kind. It was only a small fragment, and the words on it were written in red crayon.

But, the words made your heart stop:

   Hold her close, J.
   She's next.
   -TF

   Joker held onto the paper tightly, staring at it for a long time. You knew he had finished reading by this point; he probably could've read it a thousand times in that time frame. But, he didn't move his eyes from the note. His hands trembled, and he remained silent.

   Both you and Frost knew better than to interrupt him. So, you both stood there awkwardly, each anxiously watching him. His next move could be deadly, and neither you nor Frost wanted to misread him in such a crucial moment.

   Then, finally, Joker spoke.

   "Get out."

   His words were low, growling, dangerous. His eyes were still glued to the threatening note, his hands still trembling.

   "But, boss, shouldn't we—" Frost began, but he was immediately cut off.

   "I SAID GET OUT!" roared Joker. It was then that his head finally snapped up to look at his right hand man, and his expression was a disturbing concoction of every negative emotion in the book. Fear, sadness, mania, anger... His pale face said it all. And by the way his metal teeth were bared, it seemed that Frost would be the perfect outlet for these negative emotions.

   So, Frost did what any smart man would do:

   He left, his gaze to the floor and his tail between his legs.

   You began to leave, too, not wanting to further upset Joker with your presence. Besides, hearing that you were at the top of Two-Face's hit list was something you needed to process, preferably alone. Death was always lurking, and it always seemed to desire you. And every time, you beat the odds. First, you had survived your first meeting with Joker, despite him actively holding a weapon to your chin during target practice. Next, you had managed to survive Matt's interrogation, despite his constant threats of killing you. Then, Joker amnestied you and forgave you for your transgressions with Matt. And finally, you survived the fatal shooting at the Last Laugh. Yet, the threat of death was here again.

   But, you didn't know how many more times you could beat the odds. You can only be threatened with something so many times before it happens.

   You needed to process that, and you needed to do so alone.

But, Joker firmly grabbed your wrist, pulling you to him. "And where the fuck do you think you're going?"

You flinched at his tone. "I thought you wanted to be alone." The way he was shaking, just barely clinging to sanity, definitely suggested that.

"Are you crazy? You're not leaving my side. That was part of our deal, (Y/N). And it's even more true now that... now that..."

He couldn't seem to spit his words out. He was white-knuckling the note, staring at it as if he were in some sort of trance. Seeing him unravel in real time was a petrifying experience, and you felt utterly helpless to stop this unraveling.

Seeing that he wasn't going to free himself of this trance anytime soon, you reached for the note and grabbed it. You knew that he wouldn't be able to calm himself down if he kept staring at the very thing that was making him upset.

But, he fought you. He clung to the note tightly, yanking it backwards so that you couldn't take it from him. The paper strained from your continuous hold on it, but did not rip.

"Let go," you said calmly. It was very obvious that you had to be the level head around here, despite the fact that this threat was directed at you. You had more right to be upset than he was, yet you had to gentle parent him out of a nervous breakdown.

He didn't answer you. He just kept pulling the paper away from you. His trance-like state was growing more unnerving by the second, so you felt like you had to snap him out of it.

So, you drew your hand back, then slapped him in the face. The sound of skin hitting skin echoed through the room, and only when the sound reverberated did you realize what a serious offense you had committed. Putting your hands on someone was the ultimate sign of disrespect, especially on your boss. Especially on someone like your boss.

Joker dropped the note. It delicately fluttered to the ground as he slowly turned his head to look at you.

Even though your strategy was effective in breaking his trance, it also made it so that it was impossible for you to breathe. You didn't know what was in store for you; after all, he was the type to respond to threats, let alone physical violence, with a gunshot to the head. You were beyond terrified that he would punish you horribly for a crime such as this, but you knew in your heart that it would be your own fault. Nobody worth their salt would put their hands on someone to prove a point.

In a flash, you were pinned against the wall, his hand wrapped around your throat. He didn't do it hard enough to hurt, but it was definitely intended to send a message that he could hurt you if he wanted. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, hear the sound of your blood pumping through your ears.

"I'm sorry," you immediately whispered, your hands instinctively gripping his larger one. You pulled slightly, gently trying to free yourself without angering him.

"Don't ever do that again." His voice was surprisingly calm as he kept his hold on you. And that scared you; when was he ever calm? Joker's calm was the average person's crazy. Something that was only saved for special occasions, and something that was only unearthed when something was very wrong.

"Yes, sir."

His eyes roamed over your expression. Your wide eyes, your parted lips, your furrowed brow. Looking at you seemed to agonize him, for he winced and let you go. He walked over to your shared bed and sat down, resting his head in his hands.

You had never seen him so hopeless. Just a few minutes ago, he was assuring you that everything would be okay. Now, he was defeated. And that defeat could only be described as contagious. Of course, given the fact that it was your life at stake, there would be no instance where you'd feel one hundred percent secure. But, the knowledge that Joker would take care of everything would've definitely eased your mind some. Or, at the very least, the knowledge that he believed he could take care of everything. His confidence was extremely hard to question.

But, now he had none, which sent you plummeting into depression.

Tears welled up in your eyes. You desperately tried to wipe them away, not wanting to appear weak. "Talk to me," you said in a shaky voice. "What are we gonna do?"

"I don't know, (Y/N)!" he snapped. He didn't look at you, just kept holding his head in his hands.

   You flinched at his tone. "What the fuck?" you asked, starting to get angry. You weren't to blame here, yet he was raising his voice at you as if you had sent the note. "Don't talk to me like that. I'm on your side here, J!"

   He growled, and you immediately realized you fucked up. Talking back to Joker was never a good thing, especially when he was heated like this.

   "Shut the fuck up," he spat. He finally lifted his head to look at you, blue eyes filled with hate. You weren't sure if the hate was directed at you or Two-Face.

   You could feel your ears start to burn. You knew that you were overreacting; Joker wasn't exactly known for being the politest person. He talked to who he wanted, how he wanted to talk to them. Besides, what he said wasn't even that bad in comparison to how he spoke to other people. But, your fuse was already shorter than normal due the note. And his misguided temper was just the cherry on top of the sundae.

   So, you turned around and began to walk to the door. You didn't want to say something you'd regret. Fuck the deal. You needed space, and needed it urgently. "Talk to me once you've calmed down."

   In a flash, he stood up and grabbed your arm. "What did I say?" he snarled. "You're not leaving!"

   "Let go!" You tried to pull away, but he just held on tighter. You winced as you tried to pry his arm from you using your other hand. "I need space!"

   "I don't give a fuck! What if Two-Face has broken in? Slaughtered every one of my men? What if he's waiting for me to let you out of my sight? You're safe with me, nowhere else!" He punctuated his angry statement by pulling you to him in a bear-hug, aiming to stop your struggling.

   You hit his chest, but succumbed to his touch nonetheless. You could feel yourself further retreating to the comfort of his body as you kept up the facade of resistance. With every hit to his chest, you meant it less and less. All you wanted was him. His arms. His comfort. Despite everything, he was what mattered.

   As you began to cry, Joker loosened his grip a little. Now, instead of restraining you, he was actually hugging you. He reached up and cradled your head, fingers stroking your hair. "Shh, doll. It'll be okay."

   "You don't seem all that confident in that."

   "I am confident. I just don't have a plan yet."

   "Then how the fuck can you be confident?" The absurdity in his statement only made you cry harder. It made you feel like you really were doomed. No amount of explanation could make sense of that oxymoron, so you knew you were being lied to.

   "I'm confident because I know I'll develop a plan soon. The note just...threw me, is all. I'll figure it out. I'm not gonna let anything happen to ya, sweets."

   "Why do you even care so much?" you asked through your tears. You knew why, but you wanted to see if he'd say it. You wanted to see just how much he'd walled off his emotions.

   He pulled away from the hug, grabbing your chin and tilting it up so that you were looking at him. "Why do I care?" he whispered.

   Your faces were so close that you could feel his breath on your lips. Despite your hysteria, your eyes fluttered closed. "Yeah."

   You felt his thumb swipe at a tear that was rolling down your cheek. "I care because you're mine."

   "Yours?" You weren't sure if this was a confession of his feelings, or if he was saying that he viewed you as his plaything.

   "Mine."

   "What does that mean? What am I to you, exactly?" You wanted him to say it. You wanted to hear those words, sweet like honey, so fucking bad. And you would keep baiting him into saying them until he did.

   "You are..." He took a big breath in, letting it out slowly. His fingers traced your jawline as he stared at your lips. "You are my everything, (Y/N)."

   You felt your stomach twist in ecstasy. "But, I thought—"

   "I'm not using you for your devotion, if that's what you were about to say. I didn't know how to process what I was feeling, so I may have told you a little lie while I figured myself out." He stroked your bottom lip with his finger as he continued. "I'm not someone who loves. But, you..."

   He wrapped a hand around your throat. He backed into you until you were pinned against the wall. "You're different, dollface. You make me feel all these emotions, emotions I've never felt. It's amazing, it's horrible, it's scary. It's so many things. But, I'm completely and utterly addicted to ya. I can't live my life without ya. And I was afraid of saying that for God knows how long. But, I'm saying it now. I can't hold it in anymore."

   He kissed you ferociously, a kiss you returned with excitement. When he pulled apart, he said, "I like you a lot. Be mine, (Y/N). Stop faking a relationship with me. Let it be real."

   You were on cloud nine. Your wildest fantasies, the things you had dreamed about at night, were becoming reality. You and Joker were about to be official. You didn't know what this said about your moral compass, or the shit you'd find yourself in by being with him. You didn't know the dangers of letting yourself give in. But, you didn't care. You were his now.

   With a shy smile, you whispered, "It's been real for me for a long time. I'm yours, J. I'm fucking yours."

   You knew dating him would make you crazy, crazier than you already were. But, there was no one you wanted to take the plunge with more than him.

   He growled lowly. "That's what I like to hear, baby."

   And with that, he kissed you again. The euphoria that came with finally being his made you feel every sensation tenfold. When he slipped his hand into your shirt and touched your breasts, it felt as if an angel had blessed you. You couldn't help the noises that escaped you, which caused Joker to chuckle.

   "Do ya want this?" he asked as he grabbed the hem of your pants. It was very obvious that this was a rhetorical question; he just wanted to hear you say it. Just like you had wanted to hear him say he had feelings for you.

   "Yes." You were breathless, and were rushing to undress him.

   He gently hit your hand away. "Say it again."

   He was driving you crazy, and he knew it. "Yes. I want this. And I want you," you said confidently.

   "Pretty, pretty, pretty..," he whispered, trailing off as if you were supposed to say something. He pulled your shirt off, marveling at your body. He reached behind you and desperately began to unclasp your bra.

   "Please." Even though you had changed his capability to feel love for someone, you knew you couldn't change the sadist in him. He wanted you to beg, and beg you would. You'd do anything for him.

   "Good girl. I'm gonna give you exactly what you want. And after that, I'm gonna protect ya even if it kills me."

   Your legs began to tremble at his words. Finally, you were getting what you wanted. You could just be with him. No hiding, no faking. Everything would be real. Fuck what Frost said. This would be the best decision of your life.

   And with that, he undressed you, subsequently scooping you up in his arms. You giggled, feeling every ounce of your body screaming his name. You wanted to be touched, and you wanted to touch him. This was what you had wanted ever since seeing him at The Last Laugh that first night. You had just suppressed it. But, you were done suppressing it. You were hot on the Joker, and you didn't care who knew it.

   The hours that followed were pure bliss. Feeling his bare figure against you, feeling that oneness with him. You felt so connected. He was rough with you, but not nearly as rough as you had been anticipating. He held your face in his hands, mumbling how long he had waited for this. He kissed you during, something that people had told you that he never did with Harley. He made sure that you felt just as good as he did, and he kept making it clear that you belonged to him.

   And every time he told you this, you would wrap your arms around him and agree.

   After a few rounds, you two both laid in bed, just relishing in the experience you had just had. No words needed to be said. The fusion of your bodies felt like a fusion of your minds. Like you were now one person instead of two. Every thought was shared, every emotion was shared. What more needed to be said?

   You knew right then and there that you would always be his. Joker was your soulmate. Even if he put a bullet in your head, you would die with a smile knowing that you had loved. Knowing that you were loved. You wouldn't bring up that word, since it was weird enough that he had even admitted to feeling anything for you, let alone love. But, God, you loved him. His passion, his confidence, the thoughtfulness that you had the privilege of seeing. You loved him. You were his, and you loved him.

   You two didn't come out of that room the whole day. And that night was the first night you didn't sleep in the handcuffs.

   Instead, you were curled up beside him, head resting on his chest.

   "Mine," he whispered when he thought you were asleep.

   "Yours," you whispered back, smiling.