Crazy in Love (ALL NEW CHAPTERS!!!!)

Miss me?

The Joker's laugh echoed around the padded room as he twisted and squirmed against the restraints. His arms were bound tightly, but that didn't stop him from trying to free himself, a dark gleam in his eyes. Being locked up wasn't a problem for him. He was used to the chaos, the isolation, and the padded walls that would protect him from most harm. But he hated being restrained. He hated not being able to do whatever he wanted.

He tried again to jerk his arms free, but the fabric held fast. His frustration only grew, the anger simmering under the surface.

The sharp, distinct sound of a knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. The door buzzed and opened just enough for a pair of eyes to peer inside.

"Visitor," the voice said, dry and monotone. The door creaked open wider, revealing the silhouette of a middle-aged man, seemingly calm and unaware of the danger he was about to face.

Before anyone could react, the Joker lunged, using his sharpened knife to pierce the guard's chest. His face twisted into a deranged grin as he twisted the blade, and the man let out a shocked gasp. Blood oozed around the blade as the Joker's laughter filled the room, high-pitched and manic. The guards rushed to pull him off, but the Joker's manic energy was too much. They struggled, strapping him down to a wheeled device.

"What is wrong with that man!?" one of the guards exclaimed, looking shaken as he adjusted his uniform and wiped the blood from his hands.

The sound of heels clicking against the floor interrupted their chaos. A new voice spoke, smooth and calm, in stark contrast to the madness.

"He thinks he has control," the woman said, stepping into the room with a cool confidence. Her appearance was striking—blonde hair pulled back neatly, wearing a white lab coat that ended just above her thighs, paired with a blouse and miniskirt.

One of the more arrogant guards scoffed. "Who are you?"

She met his scorn with icy composure, narrowing her eyes at him before she spoke, her tone sharp. "Quinzel. Doctor Harleen Quinzel."

At the sound of her name, the Joker's laugh returned, more chaotic than ever. The guards could barely keep him under control, one of them slapping a hand over his mouth in a desperate attempt to silence him. But Joker, always the trickster, wiggled his tongue on the man's bare hand, making the guard recoil in disgust.

Harleen watched with a mixture of distaste and fascination, her eyes narrowing on the clownish figure strapped down before her. Even in restraints, he was dangerous—his scars stretching across his face made it seem as though he never stopped smiling, even when his lips weren't twisted in one.

Harleen took a deep breath and adjusted her coat, tapping her foot lightly in an attempt to calm herself. The powdery tan on her skin could rub off, and she didn't want the guards to see her pale complexion. She'd already become too accustomed to hiding her true self, her nerves fraying with every passing moment.

The guards left, allowing her to lead Joker into a therapy room. He was still bound to the wheeled device, but they both knew that it wouldn't stop him for long. Once the door clicked shut, leaving them alone, the Joker's voice filled the silence, his tone low and mocking.

"Harley..." he dragged her name out in a sickly sweet drawl, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes at the way he said it. His voice was raspy, more like a growl than words.

"What?" she responded curtly, arms crossed as she leaned back in her chair, a wall of indifference masking her true emotions.