Mitsuki Kimiko

The sudden guilt she felt, knowing he felt like it’s his fault. When really it wasn’t. It was no one’s.

Her temple throbbed uncontrollably, whoever fucking hit her was a bitch. Unnecessarily it was uncalled for. One way they were going to take her. And they succeeded.

Y/n shifted in her seat, the wood creaked a bit under her weight. From her rope tied hands behind her, skin to skin, she could feel the unfamiliar feeling of some weight on her left ring finger. Ever since she woke up and figured what the emptiness was on her finger, she would unconsciously run a single finger over the indent on her skin. A reminder of the kidnapping was real. And that jay was aware, and on his way. And he had to be. Right? 

No sign of Joker or his men was enough to give Y/n time to figure out how to get out of resistance and out of the first Saw movie room. God, she really needs to stop it with those movies. At least her leg wasn’t cuffed to a metal pole and the only option she would have is either break it or cut it off with a saw. She liked her leg. Y/n turns her head to look at the sliding door once again. No sound of footsteps or anything. Good. sighing, Y/n once again shifts her tied hands behind. Maybe if she wiggled enough and loosen the tightness, perhaps she could slide out easily. 

Wiggling her hands a bit, she felt a small sting in between. Her skin was becoming raw and red by now as she spent hours and hours. And nothing helped. The squeak of the chair becomes increasingly louder and louder once she continues shifting. Frustration and impatience as nothing has worked. Until, a small difference with the rope around her hands loosens. Y/n paused, ‘yes, finally’. Continuing the same actions as before by wiggling up and down and sliding in random places, Y/n could feel the rope become nearly loose. The sense of excitement filled her body.

That was until dread replaced it. A loud cackle echoed from a distance and on the other side of the door. Heeled shoes clicked and clicked with each step as it inched closer. What sounds like keys jingling in someone’s hand stirred Y/n in her seat.

Her eyes shift to where the door was, observing it, her breath hitches. Steps were closer and practically by the door already. Turning her head straight to avoid any form of contact of the incoming clown, behind her, Y/n could feel her grip the loose ropes. She squeezed her hands, the rope itching her skin. It felt warm. But at least it was the only warmth she had right now. From her right side, Y/n heard the keys jiggle again before being inserted in the key hole. A few twists and another jiggle. The door opens. It slides before hitting the other side with such brutal force. 

Silence. 

Y/n stared right ahead, daring herself to her thoughts to not bother to look at the doorway. Thinking if she did, she'd be dead. No way she was going to. Her breaths became heaved and uneven for her. What felt like a pair of eyes on her that were looking at her so sinisterly, and one’s that felt the need to touch her. Goosebumps ran along her skin, head to toe, it didn’t help how breezy it was. And as the silence grew more uncomfortable and bone-chilling, there was a small sound. A giggle. Another giggle after. Then, another. And another. Turning into a full fit of uncontrollable laughter. It was hoarse and sounded like someone who barely drank water had the driest throat in the world mixed with a full ten hours of sleep and no talking.

She shut her eyes, basically squeezing them at this point. Endearing to have to hear it, Y/n rather not see the clown. One that haunted her husband’s mind. With every look and every sound, her husband was greeted with the same green hair and wide greased in red paint smile. And here she was, too. 

The sense of terror was unmatched. This is what Jason had felt. It had to be. The nightmares she would see and be bothersome for him, telling him he was safe and with her. Alive and well. 

His laughter ceased to calm down. As it faded and calmed down, another pact of silence in the room again. A pin could be heard dropping. “How long have I been waiting for you.”

It was the devil.

The monster.

 The murderer.

And he was just a few feet away from her. Not behind a screen watching her, not watching from a distance that would be considered ‘safe’. No. he was right, there. 

One foot covered in colors of white and black, dust and dried blood splatters was caked on the tip of his shoe. Step after step, it was eager. 

“You don't know how long i’ve been wanting to-”, he spoke with a rush of excitement. Following with a sharp hiss and a shake of his body. “-get my hands on you”. 

“And i can’t wait to touch you”, joker grits his teeth. From the corner of her eyes, she couldn’t see him. Thank god she didn’t. But right where he stood was nothing but darkness. The only thing that lightened him was the cold blank stare of his. His pupils looked like they were the darkest pit with only a single white dot. Like it was the false light that captures someone’s attention before they die.

Y/n’s spine ached from the constant slumped over in the creaky chair, her nostrils flared as she couldn’t handle her breathing well enough. Fear. 

She could hear his heels click against the pavement as he took large and lurring steps toward her form. Almost like a predator awaiting for it’s prey to run off and cower away in utter fear. Except the prey was sitting and wrapped in rope, practically saying ‘I'm right here’. “You know, i'm real, real sorry that we had to, well tie you up. It would have been easier if he wasn’t there those few nights ago”, he explained to her. He stood right next to Y/n, so close that she could smell the pungent odor radiating from him. Scrunching her nose up in disgust while turning her head to her left side. 

“And, it really made me mad that the little birdie was there. No one, including you was supposed to get hurt. Too bad it ended differently”, joker spoke already leaning down next to her ear.

Before he could say anything, Y/n could feel his breath against the right of her face. He was the walking death. If a plague was the definition of someone it would be him. Everything about him was evil and mild.

Her body continues to shake uncontrollably, a sheer of sweat nearly coats her skin, just then the joker takes a deep inhale of Y/n. to him she smelled sweet and tangy. It smelled so good to him. Everything was coming to play for him and miss american pie. Y/n shuts her eyes once more in terror not before flinching away. This wasn’t unseen from the joker himself. It made him give out an unsettling chuckle. She reminded him of a scared little rabbit.

“Oooh oh oh, little birdie is so lucky to have you”, he teases. His body shifts to move right in front of Y/n, basically towering over her with his lanky form. 

A gloved hand reaches over to where her face was turned. His index finger and thumb grip onto her chin tightly, forcing her to face him completely. “Oh sweet pea. Come on. Look at me. Let me see those pretty eyes of yours”, he purred menacingly.

With a shake of her head in resistance, Y/n refused to look at him. 

Never did she want to look at those dead, soulless eyes of his. Not even if he kills her. 

In her refusal, Joker starts to tsk in disappointment. “No? Mmm, well I guess you wouldn’t mind if they congratulated you”, he said.

Y/n froze, her heart started to quicken. 

‘What..no. no. he’, she refused to believe it. 

“Oh what? You think I won't know? Uncle j always finds out. To be honest, I'm upset that you both never told me. We could have celebrated the baby shower together”, the joker pouted sadly. His grip on Y/n becomes more tighter and tighter causing her chin to start to ache a bit.

“How about this? We will celebrate soon! I know how much a little birdie would love that. After he was the one who led me to you” he says.

Rage filled her veins. The joker is trying to shift the blame onto her husband. It wasn’t fair. Y/n turns her head aggressively away from the clown’s grip. Her head turns left and right in case he decides to grab her face again. “Fuck you”, she hissed in anger. 

“Maybe”, the joker giggles in surprise. He was enjoying this way too much. And why wouldn’t he. He finally got the girl. But why? Joker stares down the woman before him who has yet to open her eyes and look at him. Miss american pie wasn’t playing nicely as he hoped. Good thing he always has back-up plans for almost everything. 

With a click of his slimy tongue, the clown spins on his heel with his back turned away from her. He let out a loud and long sigh dramatically in sadness. “You’re no fun, cupcake. Since you’re being a party pooper. How about we start?”, the clown suggests. 

“Start what”, Y/n says. Behind her with her hands tied, a finger does the same thing it’s always done for the past hour. Rubbing against the indent of her skin where her symbol of love once was. It brought a tiny sense of comfort for her. But doesn’t mean it at all helped. Another wave of silence is greeted, her ears pick up some sounds of water dripping every five seconds. Until, the sound of joker’s heels clicks closer and closer over to her form. 

What caught her off guard was the touch of a dull knife slide on the side of her right cheek. Not sharp enough to cut her though. But enough to mock her. It slid slowly down her skin. The action reminded her of the scars he too left on her husband. One where he always covered or could barely catch a glimpse of. 

“Well the party of course. Now…hold still for me”, the joker giggled once more. Y/n’s entire body tensed up in fear before rapidly moving her body away, letting out more excited giggles from the clown himself. A party indeed. Just for jason.

-

He hasn’t moved from his seat in hours.

Later it turned into a full day. Then it turned into a couple of days. Hopefully not into weeks or months. Jason couldn’t take it anymore. Thank god Alfred wasn’t injured entirely. He knows the old man was feeling guilty for what occurred. And it wasn’t his fault whatsoever. Jason Todd felt like he had failed. He failed. 

What he had thought he could separate a part of life from the one he oh so craved, turned out to be bullshit. Because everywhere he went, nothing good came out. Hell, maybe in every universe he never gets a happy ending. Why would he? Did he deserve to have a good marriage with someone he loved? He didn’t know. His wife is gone. Kidnapped by a monster who haunts him in his waking moments. 

Everyone, including friends, participated in finding his wife. 

As grateful he was, he was impatient. Day and night he searched for her. Never taking breaks.

That worried everyone. 

He was quieter. More angry. More ruthless. Just two nights ago, it showed the parts of Jason that he would never want Y/n to ever see. Ever.

“Please! Please, that's all I know! He wouldn’t tell us anything. He only told us to get the girl!”, the terrified man pleaded. Above him was Jason, adoring the red hood attire except the brown leather jacket. Little blood splatters against the big red bat sign on his chest. His hair was messy and tousled, the white streak started to appear more and more. The stress was at fault for it. Jason breathed deeply, his gun pointing down at the former worker for joker. A single finger ready to pull the trigger and move on to the next sorry bastard. 

In the past few days, Red Hood has been the star of news outlets and the talk of Gotham. Killing numerous men left and right in a matter of three days. People grew terrified. Some started to hide and run once they realized the pattern Jason had set up for a specific group of people. ‘Man, he’s after every man who worked for the joker. It’s obvious. Everyone turned up dead and gutted’, is what people would say about him.

And those men knew he was coming after them. But they always ended the same. Talk and the next, dead. Straight to business.

“...”, Jason stared down at the pathetic man below him. He didn’t have to say anything for the man to know, he wasn’t passing through any bullshit right now.

The man sighed shakily from where he laid on the gross trashed kitchen floor, his hands held up in surrender and started to shake more and more. “Look, I don't know exactly where he is. All i know is the rumors floating around”, he stuttered. Behind the domino mask, Jason squinted. “What rumors”, he said, his voice was rough and dark but tired. The lack of sleep was catching up to him now. 

Taking a rather large gulp of nervous saliva, the man sits up to a full sitting position instead of laying down. “Some guys, they said they got to see where Joker holds the girl in. I don't know where it is but some do”. Bingo. Finally is leading somewhere instead of a dead-end. 

“Where do I find these men?”, he insists further taking a creeping step forward making the man almost piss his pants in fear.

“I don’t know. You can try one of the clubs near the exit of Gotham. Some of the joker's men go there to take breaks. Ya know?”, the man breathed nervously. It wasn't long for Jason to understand and pinpoint where those clubs take place.

About a solid of twenty seconds Jason lowered his gun a bit as well as backing up to the window. His heavy boots rattled the apartment floorboards with each step. “Yea i know”, he muttered quietly. 

The gun rises again, a finger aims right at the man. BOOM! A loud pained scream echoes through the messy empty apartment. The floorboard was once covered in not just trash but of blood. Red liquid paints the lower walls and coats the man’s thigh. His chubby fingers cup around where the bullet lodged itself in, in his lower leg. Jason listened and watched with no care in the world. His large figure turns away from the injured man as he marches away and into the city. 

Moving on to the next man after man, not once had Jason given up on getting information or any locations to where his wife could be. A part of him just knows he is close. He had to be. Everyday he is closer, the more he knows Y/n would be held with that bastard. 

Pleads and screams from different men were beginning to annoy him. And they always ended up dead or badly injured. Hell, even the last guy said to him, “he’s gonna know you’re after him”. Of course, that’s the whole goddamn point. 

The club was a bloodbath. 

One where Bruce and Dick had come across after the crime had been committed. And Jason doesn’t have a single care in his body. He expected the two of them to come in and yell at him for murdering ‘innocent’ people. To be fair, those people were the men he was looking for. Not the ones that were there. And he didn’t kill anyone who was innocent. That’s not who is. Never. 

Now here he was, sitting in one of his safehouses out in Gotham, typing on his computer and looking through files and addresses for any abandoned place outside of the city that Jason could have ended up using.

In between his fingers was her wedding ring, it twirled and shined immensely. Like it was greeting him sadly. His attention is on the screen to pinpoint on buildings along cameras of where Joker was last seen. Hopefully catching glimpses of his car or of him. Maybe even Y/N. but nothing. Nothing yet. And he was damn near ready to just storm into every building for her. But he knows better. Yes, he can be reckless. But he isn’t an idiot. Something some people underestimate about him. Not Y/n though, she never saw him as an idiot. God, he really misses her. 

The cold band reminds him of her disappearance and how everything turned into nothing when Joker took her. Jason looked down at the ring, the memory of their secret and cheap wedding that took place. He remembers how happy she was. The bright lovesick smiles thrown his way and one where it could make his teenage self blush. He was happy. And he hadn’t been this happy since, Bruce took him home. 

Closing his hand into a fist around the ring, Jason looked up once more to the screen. Different angles of the last place the clown was seen and of streets he would be spotted. It was his turn to watch him. 

“Ahh, there we go”, Joker exhaled. His cracked red lips puckered mockingly before making a pop sound. In his hands was a red tube of lipstick that was now ruined as it was half a stick now and crushed at the very tip. His hand lazily throws it to the side of the room causing a small crash as it hits the floor. The cap is now gone and the lipstick laid there, broken. Staring down at the woman before him, a sense of pride overtook him. The plan was in motion. Not till the little birdie comes in crashing through the windows and starts shooting up the place. That has yet to occur. 

And right now, he was having some fun with Miss American Pie. A broken sob escapes her lips, her shoulders shrug as she sniffles. Tears streamed down her face, one after another. “Aw now now, sweet pea. I'm sorry I was rough with you. I'll be gentle next time”, he cooed at Y/n. his blood coated hands cups her cheeks while he looked deep inside her eyes. One of her hands moved over to brush away the piece of hair that laid carelessly across her face. 

Another broken sob leaves Y/n with her hands now tied to each side of the rolling chair Joker had switched her to. Each of her nails dug into the cushion, the texture broken as she had been digging in there out of pain and comfort for days. 

“Dry those tears. Since you’ve been good, how about I make you some cupcakes? Those always cheer me up”, joker half-taunts. In the sense of his fake apologies and attempts to seem comforting, he was enjoying this. 

He steps away from her already making his way over to the sliding door where two men were standing in front of with large guns in hand. “Or maybe I'll make some pie. Hm, maybe I will. Get it? Cause you’re miss american pie”, he starts to crackle loudly. And as he walks away further from her, a small tune can be heard from the clown prince.            

The tune was cruel. One of her favorite songs was being whistled directly at her. On the top of her head she could hear herself memorize the lyrics of the once cherished song.

‘The music died. And they were singing’, Y/n lowered her head down before sobbing softly to herself. The door shut loudly, and all she could hear was the fading whistle tone of a song her and her husband would listen to become a cruel rendition for the man who took her. 

𝐈𝐓’𝐒 𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘, 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐄

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐂 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐒

𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐁𝐄 𝐎𝐊𝐀𝐘.

𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑹𝑺 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬: hi loves. sorry for the late update. but I hope you at least enjoyed it! the reason I’ve been gone is because of many reasons actually. recently i went to my hometown and visited my boyfriend and we celebrated our two years and get this, I GOT A LAPTOP!! so it will be easier for me to post and type since now I use a google document for my work. I am looking for a beta reader so let me know if ur interested. another reason ive been gone is I randomly got a rash from an apparent drug allergy which doesn’t make sense. and it’s been HELL. like I can’t sleep or get good rest without my medication. so hopefully it goes away and I can write more. anyways let me know if u guys want to be tagged.

from,

𝓑𝓲𝓷𝔁

“Who’s the girl?” He asks his counterpart, his eyes remaining glued to the painting. The woman’s smile was gentle, her eyes kind, and her face the most beautiful he’d ever seen. He almost felt drawn to it in a way, as if there was some type of magnetic pull gravitating his focus to her and only her. It was like seeing a ghost or a familiar face from a dream that you’re not quite able to place.

“Don’t you recognize her?” The other Five retorts perplexed, confusion clearly etched on his features. “That’s y/n.”

“Can’t say I’m familiar,” the Boy confesses with an apologetic sigh as he finally pulls his attention away from the painting and sets it back to the Five in front of him.

“No wonder you’re such a mess,” server Five notes with a diverted smile as he tops off their coffee. Calling over his shoulder, he announces to all Fives, “The poor bastard doesn’t have a y/n.”

Murmurs of surprise and astonished laughter fill the cafe at the news, prompting Five’s face to heat in embarrassment at being the butt of a joke he has no grasp of. What do these Fives know that he doesn’t?

“Could you please be so kind as to fill me in on who this y/n is,” he requests agitatedly through gritted teeth. Reaching into his pocket, his counterpart pulls out a weathered photograph and slides it across the table for Five to see.

“Y/n is the missing piece that completes every Five. We all meet her in different ways at different points of our lives, but every time she manages to anchor us back down to earth. Y/n is the glue that holds us together when everything goes to shit. She believes in us, sees the humanity in us despite the horrors we’ve seen and the atrocities we’ve committed. She gives us unconditional love even when we think we don’t need it, when we think it couldn’t possibly exist.”

As Fives look down at the photo before him, he sees himself- or rather, another version of himself- enveloping y/n in his arms. They stand in front of a beautiful home with a picket white fence and a garden full of flowers smiling with pure bliss. It’s clear that the woman loved this version of him by the adoring look in her eyes, and it’s even clearer that she meant everything to the Five sitting across from him.

“She means something different to each of us, but I was one of the Five’s lucky enough to make her my wife,” his companion notes with an evocative smile. “That photo was taken on our honeymoon.

“Where is she now?” Five asks somberly after handing back the photograph.

“Dead,” he replies quietly, releasing a mournful sigh as he sinks back into the booth. “Lost her in an accident while I was trying to stop the apocalypse for a third time. That’s when I decided it was time to hang in the towel.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“We had a good run together, I wouldn’t change any of it,” the replica admits with a reminiscent smile. He takes another look at the photo, committing it to memory before handing it back to Five. “I think you need this more than I do. You may not have had the chance to know your y/n, but judging by the look on your face when you spotted the portrait I have a good feeling you would have loved her just the same.”

Gingerly taking the photograph back, Five stops to admire her gentle features and adoring smile before tucking it safely into the pocket of his suit. “Thank you.”

“You know what you have to do to fix the timelines,” the other Five firmly instructs him. “Just promise me you’ll do by right by my wife. She deserves a safe timeline to live in, one where she can grow old and be happy.”

Rising from his seat at the booth, Five takes one last longing look at the portrait on the wall before returning his gaze to the boy in front of him.

it’s welt’s voice that finally pulled him out of his trance, his eyes blinking rapidly a few times before he turned his head to look at the older man.

“sorry. what was that?”

dan heng shook his head as if to rid himself of the thoughts of you. what was your name again? yukong had just informed him. not that he was really listening, anyway.

the conversation between his crew and the sky-faring commissions helm master continued on, talk of stellarons and something about the cloud knight’s general. dan heng couldn’t seem to focus despite his efforts.

another voice calls out to him just before he can depart alongside caelus and march, however this time it is not the deep and rough voice of his companion, but one that is much sweeter, and seems to strike a chord somewhere within him.

“dan heng?”

he turns around and is once more met with your eyes. dan heng willed himself to blink and nod before he could be entranced by them once more.

“i apologize, but…”

you trailed off before you were able to get the words out of your mouth, and there you found yourself back in the odd silence the two of you had just broken out of.

“…have we met before?”

you asked, and it finally clicked with dan heng where he had seen only snippets and flashes of you before.

my dreams, he thought. the dreams that haunted him night in and night out, but would occasionally grant him just a glance of a peaceful memory.

“no. we haven’t.”

you’re an amicassador of the sky-fairing commission, one brought on board long after he was banned from the ship that you called home. your meeting at any point before now would have been impossible.

yet, his mind drifts to the occasional memory he has only when deep in slumber.

“yingxing gifted me this.”

he looks down at you, head in his lap as you pull a small jade coin out of your pocket, a fine “永” carefully carved into the surface.

“he has too much time on his hands now that jing yuan is growing.”

your chuckle is soothing to his ears, the sound like a balm applied directly to his soul.

your face is unclear, almost as if his eyes are unfocused. yet your voice is unmistakable.

“i don’t disagree.”

is all he responds, fingers idly pushing a few stray hairs behind your ear as he looks down at you. although he can’t see it, he can feel the grass he and you reside on, smell the pollen off the fresh flowers the breeze blows towards him, can feel the sun on his skin.

“you’re sure?” you question again, voice just as calming as he was sure he’d imagined until now.

“you just—“ you chuckle a bit, almost awkwardly. “—seem so familiar, is all.”

you try to approach the topic subtly, but you truly did know him. from your own dreams, the ones you had that woke you in a cold sweat from just how real and jarring they felt, regardless of whether they were mild or sweet in nature. they conjured such emotion in you.

“baiheng was telling me of reincarnation.”

you muse to him, sitting with one hand on the ground just over his crossed legs, leaving you leaning across him.

“do you believe in such a thing?”

“of course.”

he nods, hand naturally finding it’s place on your waist.

“don’t you?”

“i don’t think so.”

you reach your free hand out to play mindlessly with the silver trim of his robes.

“it’s a nice thought, though.”

dan feng can only hum quietly.

“some day,” he began, drawing your attention back up to his face. “after i reach my end, i’ll come back to find you.”

the small tug of his lips could only be described as a smirk, but it felt softer than that.

“to prove it to you.”

you tilt your head teasingly, brow cocked.

“how will you recognize me?” “I would know you blind.”

he can feel his chest warm as you smile at him.

“i’ll hold you to that.”

“sorry.” dan heng bowed his head lightly. 

“but we haven’t met before.”

he was being truthful, you hadn’t. it was your past lives that you two had been acquainted, had formed a bond so strong that it appeared to have transcended death itself.

dan heng did not wish to have dan feng’s deeds or past haunt him any more than they already do. the urge he felt to sit and talk with you, to perhaps hold your hand or touch your face would surely only lead him down a path he’d apparently gone down centuries ago.

“right.”

you nod at him, bowing yourself.

“sorry to keep you, it was nice to meet you.”

dan heng was released and regrouped with his crew, march and caelus bickering about something or the other and walking ahead of him. he decided to stay a bit further behind with welt.

his decision quickly regretted when welt gave him a knowing look, the lines on the older man’s forehead deepening as his eyebrows pushed together.

“you know them.”

“i know who they used to be. that’s all.”

welt can read the room well enough to know to end the topic there. dan heng had never enjoyed or been keen on talking of dan feng, and being back on the xianzhou alone had already left him with an unusual tension in his shoulders.

even as he walked away, moving up to engage in conversation with the sillier two of the quadrant, dan heng couldn’t shake you from his head. your smile, the way you held yourself as yukong introduced you, the small laugh that he had not expected would weave itself so deeply in his chest.

he kept walking on anyway. dan heng was not him.