Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12041559.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Suicide_Squad_(2016), Suicide_Squad_(Comics), Batman_-_All_Media_Types,
      Batman_(Comics), DCU, DCU_(Comics), DC_Cinematic_Universe
  Relationship:
      Joker/Original_Female_Character(s), Joker_(DCU)_&_Bruce_Wayne_&_Original
      Character(s), Bruce_Wayne/Original_Female_Character(s)
  Character:
      Original_Female_Character(s), Joker_(DCU), Bruce_Wayne, Batman
  Additional Tags:
      Angst, Hurt, Unrequited_Love, Lost_Love, First_Love, Family_Secrets,
      Lust, Action_&_Romance, Fighting_Kink, First_Kiss, Stolen_Moments,
      Violence, Daddy_Issues, Daddy_Kink, Possessive_Behavior, Explicit
      Language, Jealousy, Underage_Drinking, Underage_Drug_Use, Implied/
      Referenced_Underage_Sex, Non-Consensual_Voyeurism, Voyeurism, Taboo
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-09-09 Updated: 2017-09-11 Chapters: 3/? Words: 3963
****** In the Crosshairs ******
by LovesGrimReaper
Summary
     A girl, now a woman, long forgotten by the Joker will have his full
     attention if it's the last thing she does.
      
     **Warnings and Tags are subject to change in the future. This is a
     test fic to try out a new fandom and style.**
Notes
     This is unlike anything I've ever written because for starters it's a
     F/M fic and I usually do M/M. Second, it features an original
     character, another first for me. And lastly, I was forced to listen
     to K-Pop music while I wrote it, no thanks to Jule. The woman would
     be the death of me if she wasn't so damn adorable. This one is for
     her. She promises to at least try and keep up with her own work if I
     promise to do the same. The woman is obsessed with the Joker from
     Suicide Squad, a movie I haven't seen yet, so please bear with me.
     Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and the original female
     character.
See the end of the work for more notes
***** First Bite *****
She's perched rather comfortably on the ledge of an abandoned warehouse, so
conveniently snuggled against the one she was scoping out. Her ledge sitting
just high enough that she's out of the glancing view of any wandering eyes.
It's been about an hour of the same. Men in different shades of black clothing
and clown masks loading and unloading crates from large trucks to dozens of
industrial vans. All of different makes and marks. Low-level distributors.
Drugs and guns. What a bore.
She closes her eyes and grins, head bouncing along to the beat of the music
being pumped into her ears. K-Pop, couldn't beat those beats. Hell if she knew
what they were saying, outside of the select few English words they throw in to
show mercy. She really should learn the language. But she won't. The music does
her right. She doesn't need to listen. Words are useless after all. She just
needs to feel. And right now she felt like she could take the world if she
chose.
Not that she wanted it. She had her eyes set on something much better.
She opens her eyes and grins widely. It was here. What she had chosen to take
instead. It was oh so close. Surrounded by four black SUVs and the six tall
brooding and muscled men each one carried. In the center of all that stood a
man. Tall, slim, muscled or would it be considered toned? She always wondered.
Today he is in a full suit. Reminds her of Penguin, a thought that tickles her
funny bone. He even had a bow tie and white gloves. So spiffy. Green hair
perfectly slicked back, his Damaged tattoo standing out brightly against his
white skin. She laughs. She's too far to know that. But she knows she isn't
wrong in her assumption. Just like she isn't wrong that his eyes are no doubt
shining brightly in anticipation of the night's events. He always seems to have
something special planned for Gotham after all.
The music has shifted. A slower song, but still electric, with a flow. Smooth
and soothing. A hint of force just before the beat dips and levels out again.
She moves. Her body skimming its way down the side of the warehouse,
weightlessly. She isn't worried about making any sounds. She isn't. She's
practiced nearly her whole life for this moment.
He's still commanding his troops when she glides her way into his office. There
is a large purple envelope on the desk. He will come for it because it's the
key to the evening's events.
A slower song again. It's T.O.P she first hears in her ears. His voice thick
and soul crushing. How fitting. She doesn't know what they say except the one
line "If you..." But the feelings that arise due to their tone, the low slowed
beat that her heart always seems to link up to, make her wonder if he will
remember. Remember her and maybe still want her. He did once, after all. Long
ago. She remembered. She knew.
She is standing in the darkened corner opposite the desk, behind the door.
Waiting patiently because there was no rush to this. She really only needs to
do this one thing. To put herself in his crosshairs and he would be looking for
her. Focusing on her.
She smiles at the thought. The song shifts again, just as the door swings open
almost dramatically. It's perfect. So many unique beats mixed and meshed
together. The transitions seamless. He enters the room, she slides forwards
closing the door as she does, then locking it. The sound of the lock is what
alerts him. She smiles as he turns, their eyes meeting. He smiles, but there is
no sign that he recognizes her in those eyes. It's a challenge. He's excited.
And so is she.
The beat picks up, he pulls a blade from somewhere to his right, she easily
knocks it away just as a second appears. The same result. She moves a leg
forward, pushes a knee in between his thighs. A quick glance up to his face,
now inches from her own, shows the slightest bit of annoyance but mostly
surprise. Impressed, maybe.
She doesn't pause. Her leg kicking his right leg out, so he's forced to spread
them, while her hands snake up the front of his thighs. Hands feeling the front
pockets of the suit pants, just as quickly moving to tightly grasp his ass,
well, back pockets, did it matter? Mm... firm. She sighs against his neck. He
tries to reach up and grab her throat. She allows it, not surprised at all by
the amount of pressure he put on it. Her eyes roll back, beat thumping, heart
pumping, she moans softly as her hands now slide their way up his chest,
muscles. Lean yummy muscles. His other free hand tries to connect with her gut,
but she manages to grasp it tightly in her own hand, twisting, easily pinning
it between his back and the desk as she leans harder into him. It's in his
inner breast pocket when she finds the item in question. His jaw is moving.
Saying something no doubt. Words. Useless things. She's almost out of breath, a
light buzz trickles into her mind. She digs her fingers into his hair. Pulling
at it as she pulls his lips against hers. She kisses him hard, biting at his
lips, willing her way inside.
The song shifting again. Time's up. She stares into his eyes as she pockets her
stolen item. Can he read her eyes? Can he see her?
No. He's growling now, his grip deadly. No, humor in his eyes. She lifts her
arm up and brings it down hard against his elbow, feeling as it snaps. He loses
his grip on her, roaring commands to the men outside. But she's gone before
they can bust through the door.
Air vents were such useful little things.
Back where her night had begun she watches the men do a full sweep of the
building. They even sweep the one she was perched on. Blind idiots that they
were, they turn up empty-handed and the boss was none too pleased. She had no
doubt in her mind that he would have killed a few straight out right then and
there, but he still needed them. The night wasn't over. Her little stunt,
though intrusive, wasn't to keep him from his work. She wonders if the bum arm
will affect him negatively. It's hanging along his side. Hand in the pocket,
perhaps as support.
He's disheveled. She can't help but feel pride at being the cause.
The men are loading up into the SUVs. He has the purple envelope pressed
between his limp arm and his body, while the other holds something smaller.
He's staring at it. Not moving. He's trying to understand.
He pockets it.
The song changes.
It's perfectly upbeat and hopeful.
She's hopeful.
She stays just long enough to watch him climb into one of the SUVs before she
is off. Running through the warehouse, past hoard of storage containers to
where she's hidden her motorcycle. Her beauty. A beauty she would lose access
to if she didn't make it back in time.
***** Painted Red *****
Chapter Notes
     So I couldn't come up with a good name for my original female
     character, so I am borrowing the one Jule is using in her story.
     Yeah, we are that cool. hehe I couldn't sleep and wrote this little
     piece up and just had to share it. Cause why the hell not, right lol
     Hope you enjoy.
She's dancing in the center of the room. One hand held in that of her ghost
partner's hand, the other on its ghostly hip. A slow classical ballad plays
through her wireless earbuds. Her eyes are closed as she spins and twirls. Long
black gown flowing in her wake.
She's perfectly alone. Free. Moving to every key that flows effortlessly
through her.
She's weightless.
Gliding.
Her bright red painted lips gracefully set into a smile unlike any before it.
Heavenly.
For the skin around it almost glisten like that of snow. Long thick curls as
black as night cascade freely down her back. Like the wild nature within, it
outlines her strikingly angelic features, softening them into someone much more
approachable.
Not that anyone would.
Approach the beauty that is.
Even in a Gala filled to the brim of Gotham's elite, she, being considered one
of the wealthiest by association, was also considered odd. So, in turn, an
outcast.
She, however, loved it. Saved her from having to pretend.
Lost in thought, she almost misses the change.
Someone has fallen into step with her. Actual hands now lay upon her were those
of her ghostly counter part had once been. Her smile falters a bit, but she
doesn't stop. The dance isn't over.
He begins to lead her, even though he can not hear the music she is dancing to.
Like he always has, and she can't help but lean into him. Her head resting
softly against his chest as they move. His cologne filling her senses and she's
as close to home as she can be.
For now.
The song slows as it draws to an end. So she opens her eyes and looks up into
the deep blue and always bright eyes of her father.
He's smiling at her. Brushing the curls on the right side of her face behind
her ear to reveal the earbuds. He continues to look into her eyes, until of
course..... she caves.
Reaching up she removes both buds and slips them into the graciously convenient
pockets of her gown.
"Good evening, dearest daughter of mine." He says as he always does before
leaning in to kiss both cheeks, then both hands. She simply kisses his cheeks,
hands always pressed against his chest so as not to lose her balance.
"Good evening, Father." She replies softly, a gentle smile upon her lips now.
"Please forgive my tardiness, I was, as usual, caught up at the office." He
teases with a tap to her nose.
She giggles. There really was no complaint from her end. His tardiness had
given the extra time she needed to sneak in and change.
"There is nothing to forgive, I had my amazing dance partner to keep me
company." She laughs, hands now innocently clasped in front of her.
He's shaking his head and smiling. But when he looks up, she can see into his
eyes. See what he isn't saying.
She sighs.
He places a hand gently on the back of her head and pulls her close as he leans
down toward her ear.
"You're a Wayne, Leena, please....."
She places a hand over one of his and pushes away with the other. She doesn't
need to hear any more. Because it's always the same. He wants her to lie. To
pretend. To act like one of them.
She hates it. And maybe she hates him.
Except she doesn't. Even when she tries to convince herself that she does. She
can't. He's her father. In more ways than one. She'd do anything for him. Even
this.
She just wished he loved her enough not to ask.
"Ok." She nods, head bowed, eyes down.
Leena can sense that he wants to say something more, but he's being called away
by a group of portly business men. She doesn't wait for him to change his mind.
Instead, she slips away, glancing back just long enough to make sure his
attention was else where, before drifting out onto the large open patio that
houses a multitude of small gardens.
Retrieving her earbuds, she slips them back on and re-channels herself to the
soft classical melody. Taking a deep breath, she centers herself, eyes closed.
Then as the strokes on the piano keys sharpen she throws her head back, eyes
wide open, she twirls slowly. The stars above spiraling down towards her. Into
her.
She remains outside for a good hour. Somehow managing to avoid her father.
Before the loud, thunderous drilling of gunfire has her turning back towards
the ballroom.
It's a strange combination. The soothing sounds of classical music mixing with
that of the screams of frightened guest and the gun fire that follows. People
are running away. Trying to escape only to be beaten to the ground by the gang
of clown masked henchmen that were hoarding everyone into the ballroom.
They are all on the ground actually. The guest. Her father included. She hadn't
noticed. She alone remained standing. In the center once more. People shouting
at her. At others. It didn't matter. She couldn't hear them. She was focused
solely on him.
On his back, as it slowly twisted around towards her direction.
He's still disheveled, but not nearly as much. His arm not looking nearly as
limp as it had when she had last seen him. This was his excited state. He was
on a high. And he was finding a challenge with her once more.
Unlike last time, the smile and look in his eyes, holding recognition.
He grins madly as he moves closer to her. Grabbing her by her upper arm,
pulling her tightly against his chest.
She almost loses balance. Her knees buckling as she reaches out to find
purchase on his shoulders. They are almost at eye level now, his eyes dropping
down to her lips. Laughing madly before kissing her roughly. His lips more
focused on smudging the paint on her lips. Mixing it with his own. Than
anything else.
They were the exact same shade after all.
Pulling away, he turns and shouts into the room. His mission simply to rob the
place and behind closed doors leave a special something for Batman.
But there is a slight change to his plans now it would seem.
He begins by dragging her away from the ballroom. Her father stepping forward
to stop the green haired man, who simply punches him across the face with
enough force to knock him back and out.
Bruce Wayne stays down.
She watches her father as she is dragged away. Into a side room. A simple old
school cigar room.
He slams her against a wall, hard. The back of her head connecting hard enough
to shoot stars in her vision. She sways momentarily, her vision settling as she
looks into his eyes. So similar to her father's. She hadn't ever noticed
before.
He's speaking again. His lips moving with purpose. But the music is too loud.
She smiles and tilts her head so that he may see.
Spotting the earbud, he makes quick work of ripping them out.
She sighs and pouts at his unnecessary roughness, but says nothing.
"Twice in one night. I knew I was lucky but not that lucky." He growls with a
hint of a laugh.
She doesn't respond to his comment and that seems to test him.
"Who the fuck are you?" He snaps as he pulls and then slams her back against
the wall with force once more.
Her vision fades a bit with that hit. She continues to smile. She isn't hiding.
Not from him.
"My name is Leena Wayne."
It throws him off. She can tell by the way his brows furrow and he tilts his
head. She grins.
"Do you have a death wish, Mrs. Wayne?"
"Ms., actually, I'm his sorta daughter." She laughs lightly.
"The question remains the same, Doll." He smirks.
"I wouldn't call it a death wish. But to each his own."
"What are you playing for, little girl?"
She places a gentle hand on his face. He grips her hand tightly in warning but
does not remove it. Eye's burn into her own.
"You of course." She responds honestly.
His laughter fills the rooms. Seeps into her and makes her tremble. If he
notices. He doesn't show.
"You're not my type." He finally says.
"I was once, in a way. I can be so again."
His forehead presses down against her own, almost painfully. His eyes drilling
into hers, searching for the lies. He is confused and deeply troubled by the
truth they seem to hold.
But it's not enough.
"You're a little looney aren't you, little one?" He chuckles.
"Pot, meet kettle." She taunts. "I knew you wouldn't take my word for it,
that's why I gave you the picture. You forgot me once. I won't let you do it
again."
Silence fills the room along with a tangible tension. They are still pressed
closely together. Their breaths blending between them. Their chest rising and
falling tightly as one. Eyes linked.
A loud knock at the door breaks them apart.
"Times up, Doll." He says with a slight grin, though there is no bite to his
words as he forces her down into a chair and begins to tie her up with a rope
that had magically appeared from somewhere. His limp arm aiding ever just
slightly in the task. She must have been too distracted. She doesn't fight him.
There will be a next time.
When he comes looking for her. And he will. He has too.
Once he is done binding her, he removes his bow tie and oddly enough, gently
forces it between Leena's lips.
"I'll be seeing you, Doll." He says with a graceful spin and a wink of an eye
before exiting the room once more.
She can't help but laugh through the makeshift gag.
***** Lifted *****
Chapter Notes
     OMG PLEASE BE GENTLE WITH ME!!!!
     ***Warnings Apply Heavily in this chapter***
See the end of the chapter for more notes
A girl's voice is raping in the K-pop song that plays into her ears. She's
swaying, awkwardly bouncing her head, to its very up-paced and almost trippy
beat. How else could she describe it? Her mind too hazed to find a suitable
answer. She laughs.
She's nearly useless.
Leena can't help it, laughing at the irony of the words 'I'm about to get
lifted'. She feel's lifted. The blend of drugs and liquor in her system
consuming lifting her pretty damn high. Yet, her head feels heavy. Her
movements, though precise, remarkably sluggish. All in attempt to remain on the
bed she collapsed onto just moments before.
She was nauseous. Vision blurred. The world spinning in a way she was sure she
did not approve of. Too much wine after the cops had interrogated her.
Her father would be disappointed.
If he cared enough to come back and check in on her at any point in time, that
is. Before, during, or even after his patrol of the city in search of the
Joker.
She laughs, yet again, at the thought that, perhaps, her father might have as
much of a hard on for the Joker as she did. Everyone was drawn to that man. In
one way or another. How could they not be? He was just so bright. Wild.
Brilliant.
She can't stop her body from moving. Her current state of being a none factor.
She is perfectly safe on her comfortable bed, but the music keeps her moving.
Even though she feels like she is seconds from spewing her insides out onto the
carpet for Alfred to fuss over.
Poor Alfred.
Leena was definitely drunk, but more importantly, lifted. The waiters at Galas
always had the best stuff. She, of course, hadn't been disappointed by the
product, she just happened to overshoot her drinking cap by a lot.
Leena is celebrating.
Could the night have gone any better? She honestly wonders.
Sure he hadn't remembered her. But he also hadn't dismissed her at the party.
He was interested in her. He would look for her. Of that she was sure. Nothing
could make her think otherwise.
The song has shifted.
'Don't wake me up....' and a lot of yummy sounding Korean make her smile as her
body slows and settles. Her eyes close.
She doesn't want to wake up. Not anytime soon that is. She wants to hold onto
tonight for awhile longer. To imagine how it much better it could get from
here.
She would be 18 in a few months. An adult capable of making her own decisions.
One she has thought about continuously since it entered her mind all those
years back.
She would return to him. To the Joker. Her Joker. And she would be his little
girl again. 'Daddy's little monster.' Her memory provides and she smiles.
But then, her memory provides another memory.
It was her second year here with Bruce, her father... her papa, she was 12 and
wreaking havoc during their training session through the mansion. He had
eventually caught up to her and spun her around in the air playfully before
pinning her in a victory.
'Always the little monster, Leena. He laughs. Papa's little monster.' She
remembers him attacking her with tickling. He didn't stop until she begged him.
"Papa, please!" She gasps at the memory, her hands reaching up of their own
accord, slipping under the soft thin fabric of her gown to pinch the nipples of
her full bare breast. She rubs her thighs together and moans at the sweet
fricken.
Her heart warms. But, she hates it. Or... wants to hate it. Because it betrays
her.
She belongs to Daddy J. She does. She knows that. She would never go against
him.
But her father, Bruce, was, is, her Papa. He has been since Daddy J went
missing all those years back. Before she had learned the truth.
He owed her nothing. She was nothing. Just another orphan, twice orphaned if
she was being technical, now forgotten on the great streets of Gotham. But, he
found her. He actually looked. Dressed as Gotham's defender, he pulled out from
under the cardboard box she had hidden in and gave her.......well gave her
everything. Including his name.
He loved her.
And she loved him. She would always love him. Always 'need you', him, like the
current song playing suggested. But, she would always feel like something was
missing.
And it would be missing.
Something would always be missing, no matter who she ended up with in the end.
Daddy or Papa?
She whimpers, a tear slipping from her closed eyes, as one hand slips between
her thighs. Finger tips skimming over her clit. Teasing herself.
'Such a greedy little monster.' She thinks as she imagines them both by her
side. Within her reach. Her fingers tugging and pulling at their hair. Daddy's
green locks clutched to her left. Papa's black locks clutched to her right.
Each man pressed tightly against her, their hard throbbing cocks thrusting
against her sides. Both men bowed almost awkwardly towards her chest, their
lips each latched to a nipple, alternating between sucking and biting, while
they take turns slipping their fingers in and out of her dripping pussy.
She can barely hear the music playing as she continues with her fantasy. A very
naughty and frowned upon fantasy, that she hopes to someday make a reality.
To have both her worlds colliding into her.
She moans loudly at the thought, her back arching, as she feels herself drawing
closer to release.
"Papa..." Her voice trembles as she imagines her body doing the same around his
fingers.
"Daddy!" She moans in surprise as she imagines his fingers joining that or her
Papa's inside of her. Working her together until her orgasm finally crushes
her.
Leaving her looking quite the site on her king sized bed.
Her pale skin glowing in contrast to the black of her dress, which lay spread
wide open along its slit, straps resting loosely along her waste. Her wet and
aching pussy, as well as her breast, remaining exposed to any who should enter
her room in that moment.
Yeah, she definitely got lifted tonight.
She was one sick little monster. Plotting to seize the full devotion and
attention of two men. One 17 years her senior, the other 12.
She was so naughty and she loved it.
She laughs madly. Loud, though she can't hear herself over the music that
continues to play.
Completely unaware of the eyes roaming over her exposed flesh.
Chapter End Notes
     Do you hate me?
End Notes
     Please share your thoughts and comment if you think I should continue
     this, not just for Jule, who if need be can be sent a private copy of
     any future updates, but for everyone lol
     I do have a plot in mind. Sorta lol. So I don't imagine my muse will
     run from me on this one. This will literally be my random fic. The
     one I use to break through my writer's block because I won't be so
     emotionally invested. So yeah, what do you say my dearies?
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