Batman Oneshots/Imagines

Punchline (The Joker x Reader)

You thought everything was funny. Even the sight of a toy car exploding as a child was funny. You loved playing with fire and blowing your toys sky high.

Having no parents, you were always in an orphanage. Being adopted many times, those married couple always found out what was behind the innocent-looking face that you gave awaiting adoption. You were an odd child, but you thought of yourself as "imperfectly perfect".

Whatever doesn't kill you, simply makes you stranger.

And you were a strange one alright. Now being an adult, you'd go to the junkyard and demolish old or vintage-looking toys within the dump. You've never been caught though. You found a toy, but never put it in a fire or blew it up. It was a jack in the box, but the jack had green eyes and a wide red smile. You had simply fallen in love with the toy, never damaging it and keeping it in your own home. You had discovered writing under the box as well, it read The Joker in messy writing. And so, you continued to call it that.

You hadn't been adopted from the orphanage but eventually left when you had become the legal age. You had gotten money through jobs and rented a house. In Gotham, it wasn't hard to find a job in this city. You worked for people who also worked for people. But you'd always work at an occasional fast-food restaurant.

"You're my best friend," a doll spoke. It had a glass face and one of the blue eyes had been taken out. Its blonde hair had been cut and had dirt and dried mud in it. It had on a blue dress that was once beautiful. This doll reminded you of Alice, from Wonderland.

You threw it in the pile of the other old toys and covered it in gasoline. Before even thinking twice, you threw a pack of lit matches and the pile was soon engulfed in flames. You smiled. Swing the dolls, cars, and building blocks burn had made you smile. The heat warming you and creating an orange glow in the night.

You loved playing with fire. If you could, you'd put all of Gotham under your flames. You basically laughed after every fire as it warmed you. You were a pyromaniac. And you loved it.

"That's quite the fire you got," a voice laughed. Hearing it made you excited. You liked the laugh and it was contagious, you started to laugh.

"Keeps me warm," you joked. Surely, whoever it was had gotten it because he laughed. The voice was almost raspy and he laughed as much as he could. He held in small snickers and giggles and he stepped towards you.

You hadn't seen him yet, but you could sense he was moving closer.

"Do you hate toys?" He asked.

"No, I just really love fire," you looked to him. His face was white, with a painted red smile and he wore a purple suit. It was clean and his hair was green. His eyes also held the same colour as his hair. He reminded you of the jack in the box you've found.

"A pyromaniac? Gotham's only got one of those," he laughed.

"I guess Gotham's got another, then."

"Your name?" He titled his head, his smile staying wide.

"(Y/N)," you smiled back and he laughed.

You observed his suit, it was purple and green and fit him nice. A gold chain hanging from the waist. He seemed oddly familiar.

"What's your name?" You asked.

"It's the punch line to the joke."

He laughed harder like he had been told the funniest joke. If he wanted to, you were sure he could change the tone of his voice but keep the same laugh. If it was a low tone, it'd be a lot scarier than his high pitch laugh. Either way, you loved it.