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Hi guys, I've been writing for Jared Leto's Joker since The Suicide Squad came out (Joker x Reader fanfi...
The last four weeks have been living hell: you feel so empty and hollow, nothing makes sense without him. Most of the time you have the unnerving sensation your thoughts are not your own. You wish you would have died with him that night, at least you wouldn't have to go through this excruciating agony.
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The knock in the door makes Damon left his head from all the building plans, maps and schedules he has scattered all over his desk.
"Come in!" he mumbles, trying to pile up everything into an organized chaos.
His henchman comes in, quite agitated, attempting to keep it together:
"Sir, The Joker's widow is here."
"Fuck, don't make her wait!" he snaps at the guy, getting up from his chair. "She doesn't like to wait! You know her temper. And don't call her that again; if she hears you you're dead!"
"Yes, sir. I think you should know she has about 100 men with her and a lot of vans outside. I stopped counting at 30; there's a whole army in our underground parking."
"Shit..." Damon sighs, keeping his cool. "That's good though, it will come in handy. Let her in," he commands, impatient.
After a few seconds he sees Frost opening the door for you and you walk in slowly, still limping a bit from the gunshot wound you got a month ago. Your eyes are swollen and he can tell you've been crying; that's only that much makeup can cover. You're dressed up in black and he never saw you wearing the color before. It makes him uneasy. The sleeveless tight leather suit matches your black stilettos and you have even more Joker themed tattoos on your arms (and even probably all over) than he remembers. Your half neon green half bright purple hair is parted in the middle and braided, just like the Clown Prince of Crime liked it.
"Mrs. J, you're here!" he cracks a smile, walking towards you. "Please, take a seat." Damon pulls a chair for you, trying to be as pleasant as possible. He knows better than not to piss you off, especially in the state you're in.
"I'll stand!" you utter, staring him down with your icy green eyes that send shivers down his spine.
"As you wish," he nervously adjusts his tie, waiting for you to speak.
"I want my husband's body, you told me you know where it is," you raise your voice, feeling you are on a verge of a nervous breakdown.
"Van Criss Laboratories," he calmly answers. "The new location, well-guarded. My inside person tells me it won't be easy to get in," Damon spits out, aware nothing will stop you.
"I wouldn't worry about it. I hired a lot of mercenaries, plus my men. I can hire more, money is not an issue, you know I have the resources. Just tell me a number, don't be shy," you sarcastically grin and he knows that's not a good sign.
"If you want things to go smooth, you probably need 50 more men," he decides to be honest since he doesn't have a choice.
"Done!" you are fast in replying. "It can be done by tonight so our plan won't change. I will retrieve his body even if I have to kill everyone in that building and level it to the ground, do you hear me?" you enunciate with such determination it makes him weak in the knees.
