Author's Note
Hello! I don't know if reader fics are popular on this website, but I posted this on Ao3 and figured it could go here too. Anyway, this is another Joker fic, Ledger's Joker to be precise. Since FFN doesn't have the options for tags, I figure I'd do it here just to give you an idea of some of the things to expect this fic to contain. I don't want anyone coming into this and then getting triggered. Consider all of the following a trigger warning. I'll add more as the continues go on if there's something not included in this list:
(Mental Health Issues, Emotional/Psychological, Abuse Manipulation, Slow Burn, Mildly Dubious Consent, Moral Dilemmas, Smut, Explicit Sexual, Content Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Harm Scars, Dominance, Submissive, Teasing, Blood and Violence, Blood and Injury, Psychological Torture)
You stared down at the paper in your hands trying to make sense of the words on the page. With a shake of your head, you lifted your head and peered up at your supervisor with a scowl on your face. "I'm being transferred?"
The woman who you'd known for the past eight months nodded and stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray sitting perilously close to the edge of her desk. You were pretty sure they weren't allowed to smoke inside the hospital, but who would stop them?
Anne blew her lungful of smoke out and thankfully directed it up over your head before shrugging her shoulder. "If it were up to me, I'd keep you around for a lot longer but this is out of my hands. They're just so short-staffed over there."
Over there being the opposite side of Arkham Hospital. The maximum-security wing where Anne had promised you when you were first hired that you would never have to go. From day one, your job had been fairly simple and straight forward; assist the nurses with whatever they needed you to do. And you did it well.
While the other nursing assistants liked to complain about their jobs, about the patients, and the crap they had to put up with and you weren't exactly thrilled with it all either. But you were quiet. The last thing you wanted was to cause trouble and so you kept your complaints to yourself.
And usually, that meant that your supervisors favored you just enough over the others to prevent something like this from happening. Anne sniffed and leaned back in her chair, the hinge beneath the seat creaking loudly.
"I don't want to hand over my best CNA, but Jodie's got a kid and you know how much of a fight Meryl would put up if I even suggested she be the one to go."
Which left no one else but you.
No kids, no husband, no one to mourn you if one of the prisoners put you in harm's way. Which was very likely. There was a reason the maximum-security wing was so short-staffed. If people didn't quit, then they usually left in body bags. No one retired from maximum security.
The thought put a sour feeling in your stomach and you once again looked down at the transfer papers in your lap. Everything was filled out and while the first paragraph explained how this was a temporary transfer, you couldn't help feel as if they were putting that in just to make you feel better about it.
All they needed was your signature and you let out a slow sigh before reaching for the cup of pens sitting on Anne's desk. With a click of the pen, you put the tip to the page and signed your name and while you felt as if you were signing your life away, you didn't dwell on it.
"When do I start?"
.