Strange And Crazy Love: Joker x Celeste

18

You wake up still in Jokers arms not moving so you dont upset him again. As you lay there you start to think and smile. Maybe hes not as bad as I thought he was. Maybe hes just trying to make sure I'm safe. You think then nuzzle up to him actually feeling safe fir the first time in a while. Turning over you slowly trace some of Jokers tattoos on his chest not noticing his eyes open and watch you.

~Jokers p.o.v~

I wake up slowly wake up and watch y/n trace some of the tattoos on my chest. Smiling some in slowly move my hands and rub my thumb over the j I put under your eye and sit up placing you in my lap. "Why are you the way you are? Were you always like this?" She mumbled softly looking at me. I shake my head silently. "I'll tell you my story but you may want to leave afterwards. I don't want you to leave kitten." I said admittedly. "I eont leave. Even if I could." I heard you say and i smile some. "Alright." I said and told my story.

I used to have a name. Jack Napier. I had that name until I was sixteen, when I dropped the name, hoping to be forgotten, only to be known to the city as the Red Hood. My parents' names were Howard and Natalie Napier.

There are scars on either side of my mouth, a smile carved permanently on my face. You see, my father was a drinker. One night he came home a little crazierthan usual, so my mother got the kitchen knife to defend herself. He…he didn't like that. So, he takes the knife from her, with me watching, and walks toward me. "Why so serious?" He sticks the knife in my mouth, saying "Let's put a smile on that face … why … so … serious?"

After he was done, I lay on the floor, bleeding, and my father walks toward my mother. He uses the knife on her. Ten seconds later, she's on the floor, bleeding from four different places. She looked at me and gasped, and stopped moving. I was six. I went to the bathroom mirror after my father had passed out again, to look at the damage. The cuts were bad; I knew they wouldn't ever fully heal. But I noticed something, too. I noticed something in my eyes. Something different. Something had been awakened, and that thing is now what I am known as the world over.

I ran away two days later. I only returned once, ten years after the day that my father carved a smile into my face. At the time, I had taken to wearing a mask, a red one, to hide the scars. I returned to my father's home to find it was the same hellhole it had been when I left. I walked into the house, armed with a pistol and a knife. I found him passed out in the La-Z-Boy that we bought when I was three. I walked over to him, and the smell hit me like a punch to the face. He obviously hadn't taken hygiene into account since I left. The smell of vomit, sweat, dirt and booze was so strong that I considered leaving then and there. But, I had come too far to quit now. I took out the knife, looked at my father again, put the tip of the blade on his neck, and slowly began pressing the blade into him. He had just started bleeding when he woke up.

He looked at me in horror, and then grabbed me by the neck. I retaliated by taking the knife and cutting the back of his hand. He let go, giving me enough time to pull out the pistol. I shot blindly, and heard him squeal in pain. I looked at him, and realized I shot him in the thigh. He lay on the floor, bleeding, and I knelt next to him and said, "What's the matter, Howie? Something wrong?"

"How do you know my name?" he asked me, still holding his bleeding thigh.

"I know more about you than you'd like to know," I said, and, as he had done to me all those years ago, I stuck the blade in his mouth. He looked terrified now, but didn't move. In a cruel impersonation of him, I said, "Why so serious?" I pushed the blade against one side of his mouth, not enough to do any real damage. "Let's put a smile on that face," I continued, "Why so serious?""