#(only joker i approve of the rest i bark at)

[jasonsbruce]

[qqueenofhades]

Fake dating AU for the idiot Heartrender Husbands! I beg of you!

As ever, I am preposterously easy to enable, and since they will eventually make an appearance in A Phantom in Enchanting Light, I decided to write their backstory for that verse. Also, “fake dating but it’s only fake because they’re both idiots” is an Aesthetic. I love them.

Moscow, 2010

The guy is most definitely late. Fedyor got here early – probably too early, since they’re supposed to meet at eleven and he arrived by quarter past ten – but it’s now 11:08 and still no sign of him. Fedyor has claimed a corner table in the coffee shop just off Red Square with its splendid old tsarist-era décor, surrounded by the murmur of conversation and clicking laptop keys as his fellow Muscovites get on with their daily lives. The rule is fifteen minutes, yes? If Ivan Sakharov doesn’t show up in another seven, Fedyor is free to bail. But it’s been so long, and Nadia, the mutual friend responsible for this set-up, has begged Fedyor to give him a chance. And since it is understandably difficult to date as a gay man in Russia, Fedyor’s patience must be tested longer than usual. He sips his flat white and glances at the door again. Still no Ivan.

Fedyor opens his phone and checks the photo that Nadia sent him, trying to decide if this man is attractive enough to compensate for his tardiness. It’s hard to tell. It is 11:14, and he is absolutely about to pack up and leave by no later than 11:25, when a tall, grim-faced man in a red windbreaker strides in. He stops short, glances around, spots Fedyor, and powers over with such single-minded determination that Fedyor fears he’s about to be arrested. “Hello,” he says curtly. “I am Ivan Ivanovich Sakharov. I believe you are waiting for me?”

“Ah – ? I am Fedyor Mikhailovich Kaminsky, yes,” he manages, offering a hand, which Ivan crushes in a Terminator grip. “It’s – nice to meet you?”

Ivan snorts, pulls out the other chair, and drapes his jacket over it, then orders a small plain coffee (black like his soul, evidently). Then he returns, sits down, and claps his hands as if he is calling a misbehaving class to attention. “Where are you from?” he barks. “How long have you lived in Moscow?!”

Fedyor continues to gape. He’s genuinely not sure if this is Ivan attempting to get to know him on speed-run, or if he’s being interrogated by a FSB agent who can’t even act for two seconds like he’s not. It’s ominously possible. Dmitry Medvedev is the president and there are hopes that there might be a social liberalization, but the Orthodox patriarchs and the far right have been increasingly agitating against Russia’s embattled LGBTQ community, and things could just as easily get worse. Is this a setup or a setup? Nadia would never knowingly put him in a dangerous situation, of course, but maybe she was likewise fooled. You’d think that if this was a sting, they could have found a guy who was actually capable of pretending to be on a date, but maybe that’s the point? What the hell is going on here?

Fedyor opens his mouth, then shuts it. As a matter of fact, he is originally from Nizhny Novgorod, but moved to Moscow for university and has lived here for seven years, but if Ivan is with the FSB, he probably already knows that. Is this a trick? Is Ivan trying to match him to some police intelligence file or see if he’s a liar? Fedyor is seriously about to get up and walk out (or maybe sprint out) when Ivan, perhaps realizing that he’s blowing this to a heretofore unprecedented degree, says, “Sorry. I am from Krasnoyarsk. I enjoy rugby.”

Of course he likes rugby if he’s from Krasnoyarsk. This is a disaster. “Uh, what side?”

“Krasny Yar,” says Ivan, in the tone of a man about to stand up and belt out the fight song. “I also enjoy football. Yenisey Krasnoyarsk. Though I have begun supporting Lokomotiv since I came to Moscow. That was five years ago.”

So, he’s definitely a hooligan. Fedyor does his best to keep smiling. In the flesh, Ivan is definitely not unattractive. His hair is crisp and brown, there are glints of hazel in his eyes, and he has that hard, chiseled handsomeness that Fedyor always ends up getting suckered into. Except for the fact that he is lively, extroverted, and outgoing, likes clubbing and mingling and making friends, and this man does not appear to have ever heard of a single one of those things. What was Nadia thinking? It’s not like her to whiff this badly. Or did she have to be so circumspect in asking Ivan if he would like to meet Fedyor that, even if he’s not an undercover cop, he is in fact clueless about the true nature of this social engagement? Thinks it’s guys being pals?

“Did you have somewhere you were coming from earlier?” Fedyor asks, after another excruciating silence. “Is that why you were – ?”

“My apologies. The bus was late. I am normally very punctual.” Ivan scowls ferociously, as if the bus ever dares to do such a thing again, he will personally murder it. “What hobbies do you enjoy, Fedyor Mikhailovich?”

“I think you can call me Fedyor, yes?” They are clearly nowhere near “Fedya” and “Vanya” just yet, but “Fedyor Mikhailovich” always makes Fedyor look around warily for his grumpiest professor at MSU. He tries to think of subtle conversational gambits to find out what Ivan knows, without being obvious. Oh God, he really should just cut his losses, but something – perhaps the pathetic conviction that even a terrible date is better than no date at all – keeps him in his seat. Presuming that he does get out of here alive, he will call up Nadia straightaway and ask her many, many questions, mostly consisting of Why??! “Well,” Fedyor says at last. “I like having fun?”

“I also enjoy fun,” Ivan says, stone-faced. “I am very funny.”

Russian humor is normally extremely deadpan, to the point that Fedyor does wonder if Ivan is in fact a diabolical troll genius, but somehow he doesn’t think so. The rest of the conversation proceeds in this fashion, but by the end of an hour, Fedyor still has no idea if he has just been on a date or a trip to the gulag. Ivan gets up, administers another bone-crushing handshake, thanks him for his time, and marches out. Fedyor can practically hear the Red Army Choir thundering some patriotic anthem in his wake.

When he gets home that afternoon, Fedyor is resolved to write off the whole thing, except it was weirdly kind of not as bad as he first thought, maybe, somehow. If nothing else, he’s fascinated by this, like watching a slow-motion train crash. He takes out his phone with the intention of calling Nadia, only to see a text message from an unfamiliar number. When he opens it, it reads, Hello. Your company was agreeable today. Thank you. Perhaps we could meet again next week. Please reply yes or no. The message uses the formal styles of address, and some of the spellings are slightly old-fashioned. He has also signed it – Иван Сахаров – in case there might be some confusion with another Ivan the Terrible at Dating of Fedyor’s recent acquaintance. It is a bit like getting a text from the undertaker.

Fedyor stares at it, insanely tempted to burst out laughing, and finally, just because now he’s too curious to refuse, texts back his gracious acceptance. Still chuckling, he makes dinner, and then, as his phone pings with Ivan’s response, wonders in horror what on earth he is getting himself into.

This is how things continue for the next six weeks. Ivan and Fedyor meet up for the second time, stroll sedately around one of Moscow’s many city parks together, then part ways, and this time it’s Fedyor’s turn to ask if he would like to do it again. He isn’t sure exactly why, except that Ivan is unexpectedly easy to spend time with, and he nods in stoic approval of whatever Fedyor says. Of course, they follow the usual rules of dating which are especially important in Russia: don’t talk about politics, don’t talk about religion, don’t talk about America, don’t talk about Ukraine, don’t talk about Chechnya. From what Fedyor can glean, Ivan’s views tend to the doctrinaire, but he is surprisingly undogmatic, and willing to at least act as if he has an open mind. If he was an FSB agent, it feels like he would have busted Fedyor by now, but maybe he is waiting for him to do something unmistakably gay. That’s not it. Right?

Nadia calls, wanting to know how it’s going, and Fedyor grills her for forty minutes over whether Ivan is a law enforcement plant, a lonely guy looking for a friend, the world’s most method practical joker, or just extremely stupid. Nadia insists that he is actually very nice once you get to know him (HA, thinks Fedyor) and has no particular affection for either the ruling classes or the oligarchs. He can certainly be an acquired taste, but he is not evil.

Forced to accept it, still chickening out of asking Ivan whether he knows they’re dating, wondering if they are dating, if Ivan knows that Fedyor knows they’re dating, if Fedyor only thinks he knows that they are dating while they are not actually dating, or if Ivan thinks he knows that they’re dating while they’re… whatever the fresh-fried fuck is truly happening here, Fedyor trudges off for what has become his almost-weekly rendezvous with Ivan the-Maybe-Not-Quite-So-Terrible. They manage to have a few conversations verging on meaningful, and Fedyor has found himself telling Ivan about his family and Nizhny Novgorod and other such things. Fedyor likes to talk and Ivan likes to listen, though he breaks in now and again with a bone-dry quip. He’s still never what you would call loquacious, or easily forthcoming, but Fedyor likes that. Ivan is tough, complex, enigmatic, guarded, occasionally willing to let down his walls but only if the other person is worth it, and Fedyor finds, to his surprise, that he wants to be worth it. If this is a long-con mind game, he almost doesn’t care. (Almost.)

The problem, however, is that they’ve been seeing each other regularly for a month and a half and they haven’t gotten any closer than walking through a park, outdoors, in full view of their fellow comrades. Even the first time Fedyor takes the plunge and invites Ivan to his apartment, they sit three feet apart on the couch, watching a badly-Russian-subtitled version of Die Hard and providing critical commentary. Fedyor’s English is a lot more fluent than Ivan’s, and his middle-class family, while not exactly wealthy, is definitely better off than Ivan’s hardscrabble clan of miners and loggers in Siberia. That upbringing certainly does explain, to some degree, why Ivan is the way he is, and Fedyor wonders anxiously if Ivan views him as an insufferably posh city boy. Ivan barely finished high school and went straight to working in a Krasnoyarsk aluminum factory. He definitely did not faff around Moscow State University and attend global development seminars in Paris.

Nonetheless, despite their obvious differences, they do get along, and Fedyor is unable to deny the fact that he would, if it’s all right with everyone, like it to be more than that. Of course, finding out if Ivan knows, etc. etc., has been the paramount challenge, and there is no way to find out other than to go for it. Fedyor is 75% sure that they’ve been going steady for two months, but if it’s actually the other 25%, this is going to get awkward in a hurry. Is this essentially a fake relationship, or is it only fake because they’re both idiots?

After having duly commended his soul to God, Fedyor invites Ivan over on Saturday night. He rents a tiny flat by himself since he’s been burned on rooming with strangers, but Ivan is used to it by now, and it doesn’t feel too small with the two of them. Fedyor strains his limited culinary skills to cook supper, probably making his babushka cluck her tongue and sigh in a judgmental fashion back in Nizhny Novgorod, and they sit down and eat in silence for five minutes. Then Fedyor says, “Vanya?”

The consistent use of the diminutive has started sometime in the last few weeks, neither of them remember quite when. Ivan doesn’t correct him. “Yes?”

Fedyor clears his throat. “Do you…” He winces. “Do you… like me?”

“Yes?” Ivan says again, looking confused. “I would not have spent so much time with you if I did not, don’t you think? We are friends.”

“Yes, I know that we’re friends, but…” Fedyor looks at the ceiling. It doesn’t help, so he looks back at Ivan. “Are we… special friends?”

Ivan continues to look blank. “Are we?”

Fedyor resists the urge to tug at his collar, thinking that it’s a damn good thing that he didn’t go with his other idea of just leaning across the table and passionately kissing him. With absolutely no change of tone or expression, Ivan says, “Please explain. Special friends how?”

“Friends who want to…” Fedyor takes a deep breath. “Be… more than friends?”

“How?” Ivan orders again, ruthlessly. “Be clear, Fedya.”

“Are we maybe… boyfriends?” Fedyor’s voice squeaks on the word. “As in… we have feelings for each other that aren’t just… friendly? Like… feelings which are… romantic?”

Ivan continues to stare at him like a statue for several more seconds, and Fedyor contemplates the feasibility of tunneling directly through the floor of his apartment and running all the way to Latvia. Then at last, Ivan throws his head back and – startling Fedyor deeply – breaks into real, genuine, belly laughter, the kind that he has never heard from Ivan before. “Oh my,” he chortles, slapping the table. “Your face. You were sweating bullets.”

“WAIT, WHAT!?!” Fedyor pushes his chair back and stands up with a clatter, incandescently outraged. “Are you – were you messing with me?!!”

“Maybe a little,” Ivan says, wiping his eyes. “You know, all this time, I have not been sure if you are shy or a terrible prude. Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

“God’s Mother in Heaven – ” Fedyor feels another prick of disloyalty to his babushka for swearing on the Bogomater, but some people deserve it. All inhibitions forgotten, he charges at Ivan like a runaway train, as Ivan springs out of his own chair in readiness, and starts pounding on his chest in transports of fury. “You are the worst! You are the worst person ever! For two months, what have we been doing?! I have been afraid this whole time that maybe you don’t know what’s really going on, and now – ?! You are the worst!”

Ivan catches Fedyor’s flailing arms, holds them away from him, and picks him up bodily, swinging him around and pushing him against the wall. “Maybe I am just a dumb country boy from Siberia,” he remarks, “but even I am not that stupid, Fedyor Mikhailovich.”

“I hate you,” Fedyor pants, their faces and their mouths an inch away from each other. “Get out of my apartment.”

“Mmm?” Ivan cocks an eyebrow. Then he plants both hands on either side of Fedyor’s head, leans in, and deeply, savagely captures Fedyor’s mouth with his own.

Every remaining vestige of barely rational thought in Fedyor’s head evaporates in screaming shock. He still wants to shove Ivan away, knee him in the balls, or break a chair over his head, but if he did that, he would have to stop kissing him, and he can’t do that either. He moans, Ivan’s tongue takes the opportunity to slip into his mouth, their hands clutch and claw and their legs melt out from under them, they turn away or break contact only to gulp a breath before diving back in again, and the next time Fedyor is aware of anything, they have collapsed on his kitchen floor in a wrung-out, entangled, gasping heap. Ivan says in his ear, “Do you still want me to leave, Fedya?”

“No,” Fedyor manages. “Because now, I am really going to make you suffer.”

Ivan’s smile is dark and full of promise. He pulls back, gets to his feet, and holds out a hand. “Then I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

(Ivan doesn’t leave Fedyor’s apartment that night. He doesn’t leave it the next night either. At the end of the week, Fedyor calls up Nadia and informs her that he hates her so much, and when they do next see each other, he’ll shake her by both shoulders and then thank her for introducing him to the no-good, truly awful, very bad love of his life.)

[nothisis-ridiculous]

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen: Teardrop In My Eye

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

"Smith, you are being relieved of duty."

"Sir?" Jane stumbled, her smile turned downward.

The man laughed, clapping her on the shoulder, "only for the day, thought it would get you."

She sneered, "always an ass."

"Though," his green eyes sparkled, it was not settling, "you have company."

Fuck.

She pulled the elastic from her hair, attempting to pull her blonde locks from the day-long wear of a ponytail. In the end, it was pointless, she had thrown it up wet- a braid would have to hide the indent. Jane could do nothing for the simple hoodie and slacks she had thrown into her locker that morning. Forcing herself to take a seat, she pulled in slow breaths until her mind took heed. It was small potatoes.

Gingerly, she finished the jaunt outside of the Human Embassy and combination C-Sec building.

Evelyn slammed into her side, a good three inches added to the kid, "we're going to space!"

"We would have rang, but you know," Roy pointed to his wrist, his smile cautious.

Jane had avoided anything technology-related, she would have done it much earlier in her life if it were not for necessity. This was an old game, the response a sheepish smile. It was an act of avoidance. But she was trying to do the moving on thing: she had an apartment and a stable job. Sure, it was working as a guard for the relay that led to the Citadel, but it was moving in a direction she was comfortable... if not bored doing. It involved a lot of people watching, as using the relay was not the most sophisticated way to the station. The last person had fallen in drunk and almost drowned upon arrival. Now it functioned more as a memorial for all those lost in the war. She kept the peace and that was enough.

"Are you here to visit the Memorial?" Jane jabbed her finger toward the building, it would give her an excuse to spend some time with them. To clear the air.

Rahna suggested she may be ready.

"We're here to see you, silly!" Evelyn cooed, taking the woman's face in her hands, "you're a little less glowy."

"You're a little less short."

Evelyn returned with a moderately careful headbutt. Helen didn't look too approving as the child sauntered away but cracked a grin. Roy still couldn't manage a full smile.

Jane needed to clear another thing.

"What did you need me for?" she was careful, trying not to let the statement come out in a bark. These visits would always end in the same question, and it was getting harder to say no.

"We're hoping you'd watch our place while we are gone, " Helen finally chimed in, the stern look had softened over months. The strange silence between them never improved much, "we know it's sudden, but if we didn't have to go through Rahna to-"

"Helen," Roy soothed.

"We got it all approved, and we'd even pay you on top of it."

"I'm sure the beam won't miss you-" he paled at his words.

"I'm sure Harold won't miss you-" Roy tried to diffuse Jane's bubbling before it could erupt. The hand on her elbow gripped tighter as she tugged away. It devolved to his full strength pulling around her as she screamed, pleading that they didn't take the Reaper away. Bargaining became a barrage of hate and seething words, still, he held his recruit tightly until she collapsed.

If it was once, the guilt might have faded.

But Jane was stubborn, requiring steady arms until the derelict ship was nothing but an imprint in the ground. The woman didn't leave the crater left behind for the next day, her gaze avoiding him at all costs.

Jane looked up, if only to avoid the sudden turn of emotion, "I suppose it wouldn't."

When this is over, I'm going to be waiting for you. You'd better show up.

Don't get me wrong, I'm gonna fight like hell for the chance to hold you again.

"Is that a yes?"

His evident enthusiasm worked a giggle from the blonde, "it would probably do me good to get out of this city. I heard the English Bay is nice." Jane offered out a hand to him.

Roy swallowed her into a tight embrace, disregarding if the simple gesture was out of forgiveness or striking a deal. It had been far too long, and his recruit been left far too long without proper fatherly affection. Or he was giddy from good news, it was hard to tell.

"When do we need to leave?"

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Jane examined the scattering of personal items in the apartment. Living light on military ships (excepting pets) followed her through to civilian life. Everything she owned could fit into a footlocker without fancy folding. A knife for whittling if she got bored. Shower supplies, her underwhelming supply of clothing, the M-77 because why not. But her eyes stopped on her bedside.

A blank picture frame and the chit to an omnitool would be innocuous to anyone else. It was everything in the world she refused to touch but couldn't look away from. Was it love for her own misery? Or owning up to herself. That other person knocked. She wasn't ready. Couldn't she be ready?

Her fingers graced over the chit, watching it light and unfold. The device would only unlock for an authorized user, and somehow she was that user. Anderson's face popped in on the screen. The panicked expression was no longer a surprise as he searched for something out of shot from the recording, but his eyes eventually returned to the device.

"Shepard, I-"

Jane cut it off, the device flickering away as quickly as it formed. It was two words further than the last attempt. It would have to count as progress.

The picture frame came next, but not even a jolt of power betrayed a change. It was empty, devoid. Still, as if it was familiar, her thumb caressed over the glass surface.

"Kaidan, I-"

Jane's throat seized, the name was still hard to form, "eight hundred and fifty-one days. Tomorrow will mark eight hundred and fifty-two days."

She had long surpassed the days he had in waiting for her not to be dead. She had kept her promise. She had waited, was waiting. Now, Jane had to go. The landlord given notice, her job with a note of apology attached to a resignation letter. Jane felt afraid.

"I'm sorry."

The picture flickered to life, the bubbling of the tank behind her a dull murmur. It took a few rounds, but she settled into the chair, staring at the frame like it was supposed to do something. Her ear tilted for the door, hoping that it would slide open. Wasn't that how the time before a suicide mission was supposed to go? A last-minute confession, sex to blow off some steam before the genuine threat of death.

Mary was waiting, nor would she question the miracle that would have to bring him here.

"Shepard, I could patch you through," Edi chimed in gently.

Slow breathing, counting, clenching her jaw and releasing it kept her busy for five minutes before she let herself consider it. It was her way to leave him on unread, but is that how she wanted to go out again? Was that immaturity the memory she wanted to leave for Kaidan? In the same thought, a call wasn't mature either, but if she died the shame would be short-lived after all. She wanted nothing more than to hear his voice, to feel something akin to comfort. Mary was afraid.

"Edi, send the c-"

Her tool blipped, "I've already programmed a block."

"Thank you, Edi."

Mary fawned over the code, re-entering it several times until she felt a little less panicked. The first attempt ended a few counts after the tool attempted the connection. She shouldn't. What could her greed jeopardize?

She settled back in her chair, sending herself through another wave of madness. The email running through her mind again. She didn't want that to be the last thing she heard from him. Besides, what was he to Cerberus if she was gone? Her greed entered the number again, this time it patched through. Connecting, connecting, connecting until it timed out.

Mary held back on questioning Edi.

She waited again, promising herself this would be the last try. 'Connection' scrawled on the screen within seconds.

"Hello?"

Kaidan's voice was groggy, his rasp evident that he had just woken wherever he was.

"Hello?" he tried again, with mild frustration.

"Look, this is a secured-," he spat, but his voice dropped, "if this isn't- if this- dammit."

The voice waited, but Mary was frozen. She hadn't planned a word, this was a terrible idea. Stupid.

"This is a little insane," he let out a small chuckle, "and will look bad if this just ends up on the extranet. But, just in case," he paused again, pulling in a steadying breath, "if it's what, who, I think it is. Really, the Omega 4 relay? I-I thought Ilos was bad, that is a whole new level of-"

Kaidan cut himself off, waiting, questioning if he should continue. But it made a strange kind of sense. Who else could it be? She wouldn't call unless it were dire.

"Whatever you are doing, be careful. The galaxy needs you back, I ne- just, be careful."

Both parties lulling to sleep at the memory.

Jane set the frame down, it could be a gift for the next tenant. Perhaps they could program it with something/ The chit slipped into her pocket, her gaze winding to the door. She waited, shook her head, and swept up the handles of the black footlocker. Again, Jane stared at the door. Praying for a miracle.

The rigors of hauling the footlocker at a clipped pace down several flights of stairs did nothing to stop the shaking. Echoes of footsteps turned into the voices of her crew, the bad, the ugly, and all of the good memories. Garrus's mandible quivering in silent frustration as she made the shot atop the presidium, Tali's indignation at the 'induction port' as she tried to slip it into her suit. Liara always deep in thought, scanning over the work of the Shadow Broker, Javik who never got his wish of dying with the rest of his kind. Vega's shock as she decimated his pull-up record, and Edi taking up Joker's hand in a quiet moment. Tears splattered on the steps. Was this the end?

She couldn't stop them as she stepped into the light of day, awaited by three figures.

"That's all?" Roy huffed, taking the luggage from her.

Helen placed a hand on her shoulder, "it will get easier."

The older woman forced Jane to look her in the eyes, dark brown meeting blue, "you should make the call."

"But you-"

"You know Roy won't let it go until you're all settled."

The LT was always worried about her, even if they weren't on speaking terms. Jane knew all she had to do was reach out, but the pang of guilt was too much. It was always this way, and her soul grew tired of the mind that housed it.

This was a horrible way to treat the family that kept coming back for her months after they had returned home to Vancouver. They kept worrying when she struggled to care about herself. They kept asking her to return home with them, to give her a new life. They hadn't stopped loving her after every no, despite her asinine rigidity to an old promise. Despite the lingering secrets she barely kept from them. Jane was sick of herself, too.

Jane nodded, pulling in a deep breath.

"It will get better," Helen murmured, "after you've taken the time to be pissed off for a while."

She didn't fight a grin, nodding again just to make sure she was assured. Leaving the woman to enter the room her fingers didn't hesitate this time. Entering the code she had memorized too long ago.

Three calls later- silence was her answer.

Unable to save face, Jane stormed past Helen.

"I'm sorry for how I left last time," her head hung, but this time she returned the touch, briefly touching the hand on her shoulder.

The older woman shrugged, pointing her at the shuttle.

Jane nodded, wasting no further time by sliding into the back. Evelyn chattered into her ear; Jane tried to keep paying attention but found her mind wandering. The familiar stirring of her stomach starting within moments of take-off. She had grown a little used to a hardsuit that would deliver the meds into her system.

The paper bag landed in her hands without a word.

The vehicle fell silent, save for the buzzing of the radio-

"The Normandy returns to the Citadel after a Victory run spanning over-"

"The Normandy is back?" Jane bleated meekly through the bag.

"Oh- yeah! Our son made it," Roy smiled, but it was partially forced, "sounds like this 'Shepard' wasn't so lucky."

Jane's stomach emptied into the bag, Happy Birthday Shepard.

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “Ghost” Part 1

Bane’s wife is a mystery to everyone, including her husband. Ghost also happens to be The Joker’s little obsession, not that she ever pays attention to him. Maybe that’s why The King of Gotham should stop messing around: when you push too much, you might get more than you bargained for.

“Boss,” Frost makes his presence known in the VIP room. “Ghost is here.”

“Don’t make her wait,” The Clown growls and Jonny nods in acceptance, aware the woman’s infamous temper might create some unwanted trouble if she gets delayed from her schedule.

The Joker passes his fingers through the neon green hair, not that it needs fixing; he also unbuttons another button from his purple shirt, only two of them holding the garment together now. A quick glance to the other man present here: still on the couch facing the windows depicting the busy night at the club; earbuds in while listening to an important cell phone message received a few minutes ago.

Might as well take advantage of the situation.

You part the sparkly beads and enter the premises, immediately positioning yourself on the loveseat across from The Joker’s without any invitation.

“Hi Mister J,” you flatly greet without any trace of emotion.

“Hello Ghost,” The King of Gotham checks out the guest since he finds the creature totally fascinating.

I mean, why wouldn’t he be captivated? You have white hair shaved on the left side that’s meant to expose the skull tattoo you got after you’ve met your husband; smoky, dark red eyeshadow and glossy lips. You always wear black, tight skin leather suits and boots; not high heeled because it’s not your style: more like the heavy military kind, custom ordered to match your spouse’s.  

“I have a business proposal; name your price,” The Joker grins and you give him a cold stare.

“I’m listening.”

“I want you to kill Bane for me.”

“Why?” you tilt your head in annoyance.

“I can’t stand him,” the honest response prompts retaliation from the guy that finally realized you’re there and just took his earbuds off:

“Stop hitting on my wife!” Bane huffs, displeased with J’s nonsense.

You’re not a big fan of The Joker either, yet you attempt to avoid useless conflict.

“I’m going to get me a drink. HB, want one?” you address your husband and he signals for his favorite.

“Triple shot of whiskey, no ice.”

“Be right back,” you announce and prepare to leave but tonight’s host is not happy with the outcome:

“I want a drink too.”

“Ask your girlfriend,” you cut J off and he underlines:

“She’s not here yet.”

“Too bad and so sad,” Y/N grumbles while vanishing from the VIP room.

Bane can’t hold in a very amused chuckle and choses to start something for the heck of it:

“Imagine being with a strong minded woman that does what she wants.”

J is far from receptive about Bane’s insinuation, definitely mad you brushed him off:

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

“Did you ever hear the expression: jerk to the world but not to your girl?” Bane’s distorted tone amplifies today’s advice. “You might want to apply that to your fragile relationships.”

“Spare me your wisdom, HB!” The Clown Prince of Crime emphasizes the initials, deciding to counterattack. “B is from Bane, obviously,” he thinks he found something to make fun of. “H Comes from… Herbert? Hugh? Hedwig?”

Your spouse would love to wipe out J’s almighty smirk with a punch; savoring the aftermath of telling him the truth is infinitely better:

“HB comes from Handsome Brute; my wife calls me that.”

The Joker doesn’t have time to comment though: Y/N returns with the drinks and positions herself on Bane’s knees, helping him taking off his mask so he can enjoy his whiskey.

“Hey Ghost, how come you don’t smile or laugh?” The King of Gotham continues to be obnoxious, still upset you didn’t indulge his request for a beverage.

“I do,” you reply and guzzle down half of your drink at once. “HB makes me laugh all the time; he’s hilarious.”

J glares at the couple with his mouth slightly open; it’s fair to say you are probably the most serious people he does business with. I mean, sometimes you have this expression on your face that could pass as a grin in disguise and your husband…well, the way he looks makes it impossible to imagine him cracking up about anything.

“Duly noted,” The Joker scoffs and Frost suddenly yells loud enough to be heard from outside the VIP room:

“Sir, the truck is here!”

J gets pumped up and rushes out, urging his companions to follow. “Come on, let’s see if it was worth the wait!”

But Y/N and her spouse don’t oblige: Bane finishes his drink in one sip and you place your glass on the small coffee table nearby, casually mentioning:

“I’m late.”

“No you’re not,” he’s fast to disagree while pointing at his wrist watch. “You’re always on time.”

You place his hand on your tummy and it clicks.

“Oooh,” Bane gulps and his wife has to add the necessary info:

“Just a little bit over a week, might be nothing. I’ll have to check it out.”

“Oh my God…” he zones out since the possibility of becoming a father sounds exciting and terrifying all at once. “We might have created a tiny Ghost.”

“Maybe, but I have to let you know I have no idea how to be a mom.”

“Me neither,” his witty answer makes you snort before bursting out laughing like crazy.

The Joker is on the hallway and stops, confused: he’s returning to the VIP section to see why you didn’t follow him, yet the contagious snickering coming from inside baffles his mind: are you two laughing?!

“Bane!! Ghost!! Are you coming or not?!” he shouts and the chuckle slowly dies out as you help your other half put on the mask. 

“Yeah, coming!” the pair joins The Clown towards the exit leading to the private parking lot behind the club.

“What were you talking about?” J curiously inquires.

“Personal stuff,” Bane gives an elusive explanation and opens the emergency door, firmly halting The Joker’s movement. “Ladies first!”

“For God’s sake,” J puffs and waits for you to pass by.

“Where are your manners, hm?” your husband scolds since he doesn’t approve of the host’s behavior.

“Would you give it a rest?!” The King of Gotham impatiently speeds up, fed up with Bane’s bickering.

As you walk towards the truck, you notice something you don’t like: the new muscle hired just a week ago is smoking without a care in the universe. You stomp towards him, yank the cigarette out of his fingers and step on it, aggravated:

“No smoking around my husband; you know the rule!!!”

The crew knows this is law simply because Bane has breathing problems but Lenox decides to mumble a thing or two to himself regarding the feisty woman. That’s too bad: your spouse doesn’t like it one bit. You don’t even have a chance to react to the observations since the goon is slammed against the nearest SUV by a very enraged husband.

“My wife’s a Goddess, you fucking asshole! You’re lucky if she blinks your way!”

The man is trying to escape the tight grip, the elbow forcefully pushing into his Adam’s apple not budging.

“I’m s-sorry boss,” Lenox struggles to speak and the noise of broken bone brings the quarrel to an end.

“You’re fired!” are the last words the henchman distinguishes as his limp body falls to the ground.    

The Joker’s girlfriend sneaks up and grabs his hand, uneasy about what she just witnessed.

“Elected to show up?!” J growls, instantaneously criticizing her lack of coordination. “I told you to be here at 7pm sharp!”

“Sorry baby, there was a lot of traffic on the freeway. What happened?”

”Ugggh,” The Clown scoffs, unwilling to describe the events. “Clean up the mess!” he orders and pushes her arm away since he’s not in the mood for cheap affection.

Kara sighs, upset she can’t squeeze any type of intimacy from him except for the instances when they sleep together. The Joker abandons her, more interested in Ghost because she’s already digging in some crates lowered from the truck, not even phased by Bane’s performance.

“Did you find items that strike your fancy?” he hovers over your boxes.

“Yeah, this gun, “ you show him the pistol decorated with skulls. “ Matches my motorcycle.”

“Very nice,” he praises your option and leans to whisper: “One of these days I would love to sink my teeth in you. I bet you taste good.”

Such an inappropriate remark would usually prompt a punch or a bullet from your part, yet you are dealing with the dreadful Joker: he’s not worth the trouble. Instead you lift your tight sleeve higher, exposing skin that you take directly to his lips.

“Go ahead then: take a bite, this way we can all go on with our lives.”

In the meantime, Bane is talking to his mercenaries, instructing them to load the merchandise he’ll pick in the trunks of the bigger cars.  

“Ghost!” he calls out. “I need you to lead the convoy afterwards!”

Apparently you have your hand up to The Joker’s mouth: did he blur out some crap again?! Definitely.

Yet you abandon your problem-project, waving at your husband.

Kara approaches also, not understanding what she saw from a distance.

“Hi Ghost,” the woman sadly acknowledges, jealous The Clown’s unwanted flirting might interfere with their already frail arrangement.  

“Hey,” you elegantly reject more dialogue, pretending to be immersed in your task.

“I’ll go see what else we received,” J groans and shamelessly discloses his thoughts with his girlfriend standing right there. “When you get bored with Bane, maybe you’ll allow me to make you my Queen.”

Kara’s heart sinks at his indifference regarding her hurt feelings; Ghost certainly has no patience for his shenanigans.

“I’m already someone’s Goddess and I’d rather die than settle for less!”

The Joker smirks, groping his girlfriend in the process. He hops in the truck, starting to search the containers, entirely ignoring Kara and your reply to his proposal.

She sniffles after the humiliation on having her man utter such aberrations straight under her nose.

“You have to keep him in a leash; he sure loves to bark a lot,” you feel the urge to add, irritated she’s such a pushover. “I’m not interested in his rubbish,” you take pity on her pathetic demeanor. “He’s totally howling at the wrong tree mostly to exasperate you and my husband.”

Kara nods a yes, unconvinced her boyfriend’s reasons are the same with the ones you’re illustrating; she tried to unsuccessfully befriend you for a while now, her desire linked to J’s twisted interest in another guy’s wife. Her logic is not the greatest: if you believe getting close to the woman your partner has a special attraction for will help your case, then you should recheck your priorities.

Ghost never gave a damn about becoming Kara’s buddy since she doesn’t tolerate people to begin with. Except Bane. He’s special.

“Mmm…” The Joker’s girl fusses with her minuscule purse,”do you happen to have a pad? I thought I had an extra one in here.”

“Nope, but my husband does,” you serenely admit.

“Huh?” she hums, completely baffled.

“HB!!!” you get his attention. “I need you for a sec!”

He comes to meet you at the end of the truck, lowering himself so you can reach his heavy vest. One of the many pockets contains the required product and you can’t help but soothe his disappointment:

“No worries, it’s not for me,” you wink and he exhales, relieved.

As soon as Bane returns by his side, The Joker has to say it:

“You often carry feminine hygiene articles inside your gear?”

“Ghost might need it,” your spouse marvels at J’s question. “You don’t do that for your girl?!”

J doesn’t like to be put on the spot, yet your spouse grills him on regular basis as a payback for The Clown’s numerous offenses.

“I have no space,” he wiggles his way out of it.

“You got pockets attached to your fancy suits, correct? I’m sure you have enough anatomy knowledge to understand such matters and how simple it is to improve your woman’s life with such a small thing.”

“Would you give me a break?!” J interrupts Bane. “Nobody cares to hear about how perfect you are.”

HB doesn’t appreciate the irony in The King’s tone:

“You’re so hopeless,” he justly deduces, raising a massive crate with ammo he finds useful for his team. “I’ll take half of everything,” Bane changes subject, actually bored with teasing The Joker.

**************

The convoy is exiting the parking lot following your lead: you usually ride your motorcycle in front of the vehicles, scouting ahead when necessary. You never know when there’s a road blockage or accident where cops will be patrolling the area; it’s wiser to steer clear of redundant trouble.

Your husband is driving the first truck behind you, followed by four more vans and six SUV’s. He wouldn’t have it any other way: Bane’s addicted to the nice view of seeing Ghost mounted on her customized Harley Davidson: skulls painted against a shiny, clear background to match her tattoo, a gift from him for your four year wedding anniversary.

“Your butt looks very nice on that bike,” he compliments and you giggle through the mike in your helmet. “I can’t wait to…”

“Boss,” Eric cuts in. “You forgot to switch the frequency to the other line; we can all hear you.”

“Goddamned jerks!” Bane groans and pushes the red button on his walkie-talkie, vexed he forgot to switch the channels.

Again.

You laugh at his frustration, finding it priceless this keeps on happening.

“Yes, I know you can’t wait to get home,” you snort and accelerate. “Me too; it’s been a long day and sex is bound to do the trick and wind us down.”

Watching Ghost’s long, white hair flying in the wind makes Bane even more impatient.

“We might need to pull over, not sure I can make it.”

“You have to,” his wife advices. “Otherwise we’ll be late and we might bump into traffic coming from 205 Southbound.”

“Shit…” he reckons you’re not wrong. “I’ll try my best but I can’t make any promises.”

************

After two hours

You ignore the first knock. The second and third also.  

“Jesus!” you moan, disappointed with the interference.

Bane continues to kiss your neck, making his way down your cleavage: he sure adores the red, skimpy little bra you’re wearing.

More knocking.

“You must be kidding me!” you grind your teeth and get off him, leaving a disappointed husband hanging by a thread.

“If it’s one of the boys I’ll bash their brains in!” he threatens and you tug on the door handle, prepared to lash out when the sight of Kara catches you by surprise.

“Yes?...” you roll of eyes at the unwelcomed visitor while wrapping the bathrobe around your frame.

“Hi Ghost,” she swallows her tears and you can see she is fighting to stay calm. “Is J here?”

“No.”

“He’s not answering his phone,” she gulps and nervously bundles in the thin coat she’s wearing, unconsciously attempting to cover her ripped skirt.

“Well, he’s not here,” you make it short but something about her strange behavior causes a small investigation. “What’s wrong?”

She chokes and suddenly bursts out crying, struggling to articulate the sentences. 

“J l-eft me at the c-club to wait for him and o-one…one of the bouncers tried to rape m-me.”

You’re silent for a few moments before inviting her in your home. No wonder security let her pass: they recognized The Joker’s girlfriend and assumed she was expected.

“This way,” you guide her towards the living room, gesturing for one of the chairs. “Sit!”

She can’t stop sobbing and you pour some bourbon in a glass, encouraging her to drink.

“Finish this!”

Kara sips the alcohol and her shaky hands almost drop the container.

You take a blanket from the sofa and cover her with it, immediately snatching your cell from the table.

You touch the screen and it rings just once.

“Hello there.”

He sure picked up right away.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone?!”

“I just did.”

“Your girlfriend is trying to reach you!” Ghost mutters, literally pissed at his conduct.

“I’m busy,” he takes the easy way out and you are instantly fired up:

“If you would pay attention to Kara instead of wasting your charms on a married woman maybe the idiots working for you wouldn’t assume they can take liberties without any type of consequences!!!!”

J is stunned you’re screaming like that, yet he wants to find out what’s going on.

“What do you mean?!”

“One of your bouncers at the club tried to rape her and you won’t even answer her calls!”

The King of Gotham is dumbfounded and speechless for once since someone would dare such an affront.

“Lemme talk to her,” he requires and you hand over the phone to the horrified girlfriend; she has a difficult time telling him the details of her scary experience and how she barely escaped the attack.

You keep on gazing at her, Kara’s misfortune striking a chord within your soul: her situation reminds you of your past, although the circumstances were quite different.

Five years ago, Y/N survived her faith; the man responsible for creating the Goddess she is today saved her and didn’t ask for anything in return, not even for a name.

Although she told him once.

And he decided there’s nothing better than a mysterious Ghost, except being loved by one.

Also read: MASTERLIST

diyunho(.)tumblr(.)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

[jentheone12]

A Vulgatto love story Chapter 5 (Last chapter) 

Chapter 5: Concerned jokers,and sad loss and a comfort for Sal:

The doctor on duty found Sal's note,and called by telephone to the best friends of his brother Cuban boy. Brian and James were on their way to look for Sal. Luckily,the boys arrived to the skating rink,but specially they got to find Sal,and in silence they hugged his boy;without that Sal putting resistance. Surely,to the two jokers felt affected and saddened Joey's departure,as did Sal... Several minutes before Q and Murr went to look for Sal... The two jokers entered the hospital and called the doctor on call. -¡We need to see Joe!-Q shouted and Murr nodded -Do you have the note of Sal?-

-Yes,It is here!-

Q and Murr read the note Sal wrote for them,and after a few seconds they looked at the doctor with a shocking look...

-I see that you guys are Sal and Joe's friends and/or family,right?-

-And,we are!-

-Umm... Unfortunately,Mr. Joe Vulcano-Gatto has passed away...! I am sorry for your loss!-

The two jokers were perplexed,looking at each other and completely silent.

-Can we go see it at least?-

The doctor did not deny the request of the two and above all because he noticed his distressed look. Both,without saying almost anything,went to his best friend's room to see him for the last time... James and Brian entered to the room and saw to his brother and deceased best friend. Murr was the first to go to Joey,and sadly and hurt hugged him in his arms. Then,Q approached at Joe and touched him affectionately,while he looked at him with a serious and distressed look at the same time. It was a hard and sad moment for the two jokers,but at least they could see him and somehow they said goodbye to their Joey... Once they left the room,Q and Murr hugged and almost silently went to look for Vulcano. The brown-eyed man was driving his car during the snowy weather,the balding man was sitting in the passenger seat and contemplating how Sal was asleep in the back seat. Luckily,the boys took care of Sal,because while they tried to comfort his Cuban boy on the bench near of the skating rink,one of them felt that Sal fell asleep on his shoulder and collapsed.

-Oh God! Go find the doctor! COME ON! COME ON!-

-Okay,okay!- Despite the snow,James ran for the doctor and fortunately the hospital was not far from where they were and medical help arrived just in time. The doctor checked Sal and asked his fellow doctors to bring a stretcher to take to his ambulance and check it quickly. Q and Murr accepted the suggestion and left behind the doctor,although when they reached a few meters from the truck,the jokers had to wait until further notice. Until... -I have already checked your friend. He just had a faint and I guess it was for something emotional,right?-

Murr and Q simply nodded.

-We can see it?-

-Sure!- The two entered the ambulance and saw Sal.

-Sal,are you okay buddy? Here we are-

Miraculously,Sal began opening his eyes and regaining consciousness.

-What happened?-

And with almost nothing else to say,Murr and Q went straight to hug him. One time that Sal finally woke up,and with the approval permission of the doctor,the two guys could take their brother. They literally clung to Vulcano which is also as if they had curled up very close to him and holding him in his arms,just in case...

Back in Q's car... -Where we go?- Murr asked to Q,curious.

-To my house! I know Sal doesn't like cats,but first we'll go to our friend Joey's house to look for his dogs and take care of them- Q assured to his best friend.

-Alright Q!- And so it happened. Before going to Gatto's house,Brian went to his house so Sal could stay there and that they could comfort him. When he got there,the middle-aged man got out of his car to wake up his friend.

-Hey Sally! Wake up!- Q tried to wake him up,moving his shoulder a little with his hands but it didn't work at all,because Sal was still asleep and he didn't sleep.

-I have an idea but you will have to help me,right?-

-Okay bud!-

Q opened the other door of his car and grabbed Sal from his arms,and then he let that Murr grab his brother's legs. Maybe Q and Murr cost them to carry Sal in their arms maybe because of their weight,but not because of that they won't let Sal try to cope with this hard moment alone. Luckily,they finally reached the entrance,took at Vulcano to one of the rooms where Q's cats were not there,both best friends laid Sal on the bed and left him alone. But before leaving the room,the two jokers covered him with a blanket to his brother so that he is not cold,although Sal still was in his own slumber... Murr and Q spoke alone in the living room, once they laid Sal in one of their main rooms temporarily. 

-Hey Murr! I will go find Joey's dogs in his house! Meanwhile,I thought to ask you to watch Sal to see how he is,if he wakes up! Just try not to disturb him... And also, watch my cats until I come back! Right?- 

-Alright Q!- Q said friendly farewell to Murr and left. While the balding man saw Q's cats,he caressed them affectionately. Until he took advantage of the right time to feed them,and so he went to see his best friend. He barely opened the door,and looked at Vulcano as he slept...

-Oh Sal,if only I could help you... I remember when I sent you a text message to know how you were because I was worried about you,after what happened by the pie that you ate...- Murr muttered something distressed by his friend,and slowly closed the door so as not to wake Sal.

After a few hours later,Q returned home and asked Murr about Sal,and the balding man told him everything (about the sadness and pain he felt through Sal's face). The middle-aged man decided to go see Sal immediately. -Hey bud! Did you have trouble talking to Sal? How is he?- Murr asked,after to notice that his best friend got back to see at Sal.

-Actually yes,Murray! I went to see him,I caressed him while Sal slept,but surprisingly he was barely awake and offered to help him take care of Joey's dogs,Sal did not allow me but if he let me take one of the puppies!-

-At least you can take care of one of them!-

-And it is! After what happened,Sal went back to sleep almost clinging to the dogs and I left maybe because I didn't want to make it worse than I was...-

-I think Sal needs time to be alone... Don't you think?-

-Yes...-

On Q's room... Sal was still asleep,and near him were the dogs of her late husband Gatto,who were also sleeping.

-Hey buddy! Wake up!- There was a hand that slapped the black widower a little and gave him a brief slap again,until the young Cuban woke up. -WHAT THE FUCK IT IS?- Sal exclaimed in a disturbing tone,although he was surprised to find out who was in front of him. -Joey?-

-Hello,handsome boy!- Joe said very happy to reunite with his beloved husband,who began to caress his cheek and shoulder. -I suffered much and I've missed you!- Sal admitted,and he laid down beside of his man. Joe followed suit and also laid down beside of his ''Sexy Jello''. Sal fell asleep,resting between his arms of Joey;while the blue-eyed man kissed softly Vulcano's lips.

-Sally,I've watched over you... I think that my fellows tried to help you and I've really noticed too how much you have suffered without me...!- Joe assured,staring into the eyes of Sal.

-It is true?- Sal asked,after he opened instantly his eyes,and also looked at Joe.

-Yes! I would like you to be happy and so you will got to fulfill with your promise...-

-This will be very hard...!-

-I know that you will do it,just as Q Murr and I have seen how most of the punishments you could do it...!-

Sal smiled and hugged almost tightly at Joe. He hugged back and also smiled to the green-eyed young boy.

-Also,you have something like a kind of souvenir to remember me!-

-Please... You mean your tattoo that you chose me on my thigh?- -WELL... I'm kidding! I was referring to my dogs!-

-Oh!- Then,Sal turned around and saw that her husband's dog was barking on the ground. 

-Look Sal!- Joe said,putting his hands Sal's face and cheeks slightly at him,so that his partner paid attention. -Like all spirits,I think I have to go... Meanwhile,I'll stay with my teddy bear until I'm ready to leave...- 

-Joey...- Vulcano simply pronounced,and chuckled a bit.

The two jokers gave each other an eskimo kiss across their nostrils and kissed.

-I love you buddy!- Joe whispered sweetly at Sal.

-I love you too!- Sal answered to the blue baby eyes man.

They enjoyed his moment together and specially alone,regardless of whether Gatto's dog was watching or not that show of love of the two guys.

Some hours ago...

Sal slept completely along at Joey,while few seconds the blue-eyed man woke up; ready to say goodbye. He was saying goodbye at Sal,giving a kiss in his cheek and left him a letter above of the pillow.

-I see that you didn't take our wedding ring off your finger! I won't take mine from my finger either! I promise!- Joe whispered to Sal's ear,before going to look for his dog. -Hi! My lil' puppy! I want you to watch Sal and take care of him,and don't leave him alone! Okay?- Gatto asked friendly to his puppy as his last wish. Before leaving and going through the window,Joe also said goodbye to his dog stroked his head a lot and laid him next to Vulcano. Mr. Gatto-Vulcano did not stop looking at his husband,he smiled him and waved his hand to say goodbye. 

-If you don't want to forget me and still want to remind me,you know how to do it or where to find me,Sally...!- And with these last words of Joey and with a wink at his beloved and favorite joker,he vanished as he crossed the window. Vulcano had not realized that his late husband had left his side and that only Joey's dog was sleeping beside him... Upon waking up,Sal was surprised not to see Joe,but he saw the letter that said his name and began to read it: *My beloved Sal: I'd like that you let Q and Murr help you take care of my dogs and make you happy,just as we were many years ago. Although at this moment I am in the hereafter,you will always be my favorite! And you will be in charge of this puppy (the one you didn't let Brian help you take care of). I love you so much Ja'Crispy,and I will never take out my engagement ring. At least,you will not only remember me through the tattoo you have on your thigh,right Sally? And as I heard in a television series: See you on the other side,Mr.Gatto Vulcano... With much love,Joe Gatto Alias ''Joey''* After finishing reading,Sal got a little excited and looked up. -I won't take my ring off either...At least,I didn't let Joey jump down the stairs of the mall like it happened in one of the extra scenes of our show! I wonder if he's watching me now...?- Before the sapphire-eyed young man came to say something to Joey or not,he was interrupted by the barking of his blue-eyed man's dog. -Hey!- Vulcano affectionately caressed the dog's head,and began to smile (maybe because to see to the white puppy,he reminded a bit his reunion with Gatto). -I'm going to try to take care of you,as my special and funny husband asked me that I do for him!- Until Brian and James opened the door and headed to see Sal,and the dog who he was with Vulcano got out of the bed.

 -Hey buddy! I see you woke up!- Q said. 

-How are you,Sally?- Murr said. 

Sal didn't know what to say,but he should consider himself lucky not only to have had his best friend as his brand new husband but also to his other two best friends who nevertheless expressed their concern for him. So the jokers took advantage of that moment to go hug him,and they did. Vulcano returned the hug to both of them.

 -Guys...! Thank you very much...- Sal barely got to say something excited In the middle of the hug between the three.

 -Honey,be happy! My soul mate...!- It was Joe's voice,who said that specially at Sal,slowly like a whisper and hidden somewhere in the house and smiled. Few seconds,the blue baby eyes fade away;knowing that his beloved husband will be in the best hands.

The end

(Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19208641?view_full_work=true)

[itsthebats]

stalking is bad

AO3

Stephanie had known who Jason Todd was since day one.

     Well, maybe not since day one, because apparently everyone wanted her safe and sound in her house—though safe and sound weren’t precisely the first words that appeared in her mind when she thought of house, anyway—and out of her Spoiler suit and of the streets as well, so it took Tim and the rest a bit to open up to her about the second Robin, but anyway.

     It was Dick the one who told her about Jason the first time, and they’d been talking about him for hours. It was not only that Dick wanted to talk, but it was also Stephanie’s curiosity; she asked a thousand questions about him because she actually remembered Jason. She remembered noticing the change of Robins—when she was about nine or ten years old, she had Dick as Robin, remembered his acrobatics movements, his amazing jumps. But then it changed, and now it was a less acrobatic Robin, one that talked harsher and beat criminals harder. Stephanie once jumped from the kitchen table of her house because she wanted to fly like these Robins, and she ended up with a broken arm.

     She told this to Dick, and Dick told her a lot of things about Jason. It was cute, hearing him talking about his little brother, and all the memories he kept of him, and Stephanie wished she’d met him when he was alive.

     Tim told her about the suit in the cave and the way he was killed. Dick hadn’t talked about this, only about happy and warm memories, whereas Tim told her the sad details. Jason’s origins. His family. The Joker hitting him with a crowbar, the explosion. He told her that the suit was put in the cave to remind Bruce what happened, to keep it from happening to anyone else—such a good job it had done, though.

     Then she became Robin, then she died, and then Jason Todd was back in the city.

     Stephanie hadn’t known it was him—she’d just heard of a new criminal that went chopping heads around town, and tried to avoid him because, duh. He sliced heads, and she liked hers very much, thank you. So she patrolled with Tim, patrolled alone, always going to places she knew the Red Hood wouldn’t be in, until one day they crossed paths. More or less.

     It’d been almost a year since he chopped any heads, so she didn’t fear him as much as she’d had. Stephanie was waiting for Tim on a rooftop when she heard shouting under her—she took a peak and kind of freaked out when she saw the Red Hood punching some guys. He didn’t scare her as much, yeah, but he still did. A little. Whatever. So she just looked until Tim arrived and peaked with her. “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

     “That’s the Red Hood,” she whispered too. “Should we stop him?”

     And Tim. He just laughed. “Jason? Leave him be.”

     That’s how she was notified that Jason Todd had come back to life, and Stephanie was just… perplexed. Too excited, maybe, because now that she knew he was back in Gotham she really wanted to talk to him, to say something, even though he had decapitated some people, even though he still killed people. Stephanie knew that she was supposed to be more afraid, more aware of the situation, the fact that this man who’d been Robin had become a killer, but she still couldn’t help her excitement.

      So she started going on patrol alone, and kind of… followed him. Well, maybe follow wasn’t the right word. Stephanie just happened to be in the same neighbourhood he dealt with criminals—she started picking the same cases he worked in and followed the trails, always finding him at the end. Stephanie didn’t interact with him, only got into a building close to his work zone and watched him as he punched the bad guys or shot his way out of an ambush or both.

     She wasn’t Cass, so Stephanie didn’t actually know how to read body language. She knew, however, that this guy was angry. She’d got Damian to tell her the story of Jason’s comeback to life and the reason he killed all those people at first, and Stephanie… she would never say this in front of Bruce, but she understood. This man who had died at the hands of one of the worst criminals in the world and hadn’t been avenged by his father—she tried to put herself in his place, feel the pain he must have been feeling when he came back, and it sent shivers down her spine. Not that Stephanie approved of his methods, but at least she understood why he did what he did.

     Once, after having been spying—stalking—looking at him fighting for three weeks, Stephanie was writing a paper for university on the rooftop of a two-stories building—she preferred the cold air and loneliness of the city rather than the library, always so full of people—when she heard shouting below her. She looked down only to see a guy in black running with a gun in his hand. Stephanie grunted only thinking that she would have to leave her homework on the rooftop to go after him when the Red Hood came into the scene.

     He was carrying a gun too, but the man in black looked back and shot Jason a couple of times. “Ooh, you just did that,” she muttered to herself, smirking. She didn’t know what he’d done—something bad, she guessed, if Jason was running after him—but she enjoyed seeing this. Jason ended up catching him, punched the man unconscious, and… Stephanie couldn’t help but bark a laugh, because the guy took the criminal’s gun and put it in one of the pockets of his jacket. She guessed he was low on guns.

     It was all good, because he hadn’t caught her looking at him not one time in these three weeks and she was somehow learning new fight techniques. And it all would have continued to be good if only one of her papers wouldn’t have gone flying straight into his fucking face.

     “Fuck.” She tried to hide, but was pretty sure he’d already seen her. “Shit, shit, shit.” Now he was going to go to her and murder her, Stephanie was sure. Oh god, this had been such a shitty life, she deserved at least a few years more.

     She didn’t know what upset her more, the fact that Jason freaking Todd, the undead Robin, had caught her sneaking up on him or the fact that she’d lost one of her papers. She would have to rewrite the whole thing, and it was due in three hours. Goddammit. She should have gone to the library.

     Jason didn’t come, so Stephanie thought it would be as good a moment as any to run to her house and start again with her homework. Maybe the Red Hood would pity her and let her live.

     At some point after having finished writing the essay, Stephanie fell asleep—she didn’t even bother to go to bed.

     She’d had a dream in which the Red Hood wrapped a blanket around her shoulders before she fell asleep and then jumped into her bed. In the dream he said, “You’re so not like the bats,” and Stephanie could’ve sworn that his voice was the most realistic voice one of the boys she dreamed about had ever had. His voice had been muffled because of the helmet, but it’d also sounded boyish, and Stephanie had to remember herself that he wasn’t even twenty. She’d thought profoundly about the muscles she couldn’t see under his clothes but noticed anyway.

     “Hmm,” she muttered when she felt a blanket over her shoulders. Weird, she thought, a little freaked out, before realizing that her mother must’ve put it there—she must’ve seen her sleeping on her desk, all cold and tired, and decided to put a blanket over her. Totally normal. It happened all the time.

     “Jesus fucking Christ you sleep like the dead.”

     It was morning. Morning. The bats didn’t go out in the morning. Stephanie closed her eyes and tried not to scream, because she was really, completely sure that she wasn’t, couldn’t be, hearing Jason Todd’s voice right now because he of course wasn’t in her bedroom. It was a hallucination. It had to be a hallucination. Her mom had put the blanket around her shoulders.

     “Y’know, it’s not polite to ignore guests,” the hallucination added, and Stephanie covered her face with her hands and groaned. Loudly.

     “Oh my god.”

     Jason chuckled. “Yeah, that’s what girls usually say when I’m around.”

     He was so going to kill her.

     She slowly turned the chair she was sat in around and saw the guy lying on her bed, the red helmet put aside. He grinned mischievously and Stephanie’s first thought was, annoyingly, how handsome he was. Because, come on, he was lying there without a care in the world, hair messy and blue eyes shining, lips turned upwards; for a second, she forgot that he was probably going to kill her for having spied on him three weeks in a row and thought that this was her Robin, the one she’d gaped at her entire childhood. He totally looked like the bad guys from bad rom-coms.

     “You dropped this,” he said, waving a paper in the air. Stephanie couldn’t see what was written in it, but she was pretty sure it was the lost part of her essay. “I thought to myself, hey, Todd, this girl has been stalking you for weeks, it wouldn’t be nice if you didn’t return this. So.”

     This was without a doubt the most embarrassing moment of her life. And she’d had a couple of those.

     “What, cat got your tongue?” he teased. He crossed his ankles and Stephanie was tempted to tell him to put his feet off her bed. “Spoiler alert,” he said, “you’re a weirdo.”

     She didn’t know what impressed her more, the fact that he’d made a whole conversation without her saying a word or that he knew she was the Spoiler. Oh, this was uncomfortable. Like. Stephanie was tempted to jump from the window.

     “Listen, I love to talk, I really do, but this is kinda boring.” He got to his feet, and he was—fuck, he had a gun in his hand. She hadn’t talked, and now he was going to kill her? This was totally fucked up.

     “I thought you only, like, got out at night,” she blurted out, and Jason smirked.

     “You’ve been stalking me, you should know,” he shot back.

     “I wasn’t!” Okay, maybe that wasn’t the most intelligent thing to say right now. “I was just curious.”

     “Curious.”

     “Well, duh. You came back from the dead and chopped off heads as a hobby, who wouldn’t be curious?”

     She just had to go there.

     Tim had told her a million times that she talked too much, but she’d never thought that it would be a problem until now. Stephanie didn’t think she was actually bothering him or something, because even though Jason was holding a motherfreaking gun he looked like he was enjoying himself. Well. Some animals played with the prey before eating it. Jason wasn’t going to eat her, but the point was the same.

     Jason raised a brow, and Stephanie’s lips quirked upwards. “How did you know I was there? I was very careful.”

     He snorted. “Yeah, and I’m a weasel.” Okay, no need to be rude. “I saw you all the time. And last night? You laugh very loudly.”

     She had to admit that laughing while watching him catch some guy wasn’t her smoothest move, but he had to give her a little credit—Stephanie was sure that he was bluffing. She’d been sneaky as hell, and he couldn’t possibly have heard her before last night; she liked to talk, but not while spying on someone. She was a very good spy.

     Stephanie was about to ask what was he doing in her house when Jason scratched the back of his head with the barrel of the gun which was, honestly, the most idiotic thing she’d seen someone do ever. “Show-off,” she mumbled.

     “What?” he asked, and he looked troubled, like if she had just insulted him.

     “What are you doing here?” she asked in return.

     Jason sighed and sat on the bed, left the pistol at his side. Stephanie wondered if she could get to it before him and came to the conclusion that no. She probably couldn’t, though she was starting to think that he wasn’t going to kill her, because if he was, he would have killed her already—he was crazy, but Stephanie didn’t think he would leave the gun away if he wanted to shoot her.

     He opened his mouth to talk, but Stephanie had just thought about something and had to spit it out. “Wait, did you cover me with the blanket?”

     When he blushed slightly Stephanie grinned real big, because mission accomplished, dumbass. Now she could die happily, having made the undead Robin that went around slicing heads blush. He brushed his hair with a hand, and Stephanie noticed for the first—which proved that she could never be a detective as great a Bruce—time that Jason had a white streak very noticeable. She was pretty sure that it hadn’t been there in the pictures of him at Wayne Manor.

     “You looked cold,” he muttered under his breath, and Stephanie barked a laugh. This couldn’t be the murderer she’d been told about so many times.

     “Creepy,” she muttered, though she was smiling. Jason rolled his eyes and sighed, like if he were really appalled. “Being soft isn’t bad,” Stephanie added just because a grumpy Jason Todd was fun to watch.

     He looked ready to jump from the window. “Listen,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Tomorrow, this man I’ve been following for a couple of months—”

     “The Italian guy?”

     “… no. He’s supposed to meet this girl I, like, was partners with. But yesterday she said she doesn’t want to get involved, and I—”

     “You need a bait,” she deadpanned, kind of disappointed.

     “More or less, yes. You’ll help me corner him so—”

     “You can kill him?”

     His face was red, but she could tell it wasn’t embarrassment causing it exactly. “Yes.”

     “Yeah, well, no.” What did he think, that just because she’d been following him around for the past three weeks she was going to become his partner in crime? One thing was leaping from buildings dressed in purple, but another thing completely was participating in a murder. Stephanie admired this man when he was a boy following a bat, but that didn’t mean she would help him kill someone. No way. “I’m not a killer.”

     He snorted. “Whatever.” Oh wow, now she wanted to punch him. “We’ll send him to the cops if you want. Are you going to help me or not?”

     Had he just… given up? So easily? It wasn’t likely, but okay. She’d have to keep an eye on him.

     “And what am I supposed to do? Just stand there and look pretty? Because, you know,” she paused, and whispered, “I’m not an object.”

     She could tell Jason was starting to consider murdering her instead of this guy. He said, “No, you’re going to pretend to be the girl he’s supposed to be meeting, and when he enters the alleyway—”

     “Oh my god, so it’s that kind of smuggling.”

     “—I jump in from wherever I’m going to be and we both take him down.”

     It sounded like a plan, but… “Don’t you think he’s going to notice something is wrong when he sees me wearing my suit?”

     “You call that a suit?” Stephanie glared at him, and Jason continued. “You’re not going to be wearing your costume.” Son of a… “You can wear, I don’t know, whatever you want. But not your Spoiler costume.”

     Stephanie had the feeling that it was all a bad idea, but she nodded nonetheless; she’d imagined Jason to be a Bad Guy, someone who chopped heads out of spite, but he didn’t look so bad—if you weren’t counting the gun. Maybe she was proved wrong again tomorrow night when he didn’t kill this guy, and if he changed his mind… Stephanie was sure—like, eighty-eight percent sure—that she could stop him from doing so. At least that’s what she hoped, because if Bruce heard that she’d been hanging around with the Red Hood and he’d killed someone while they were together, she was sure Batman was going to put a batarang between her eyes.

     “I’ll be here tomorrow at eleven p.m.”

     She flashed him a smile. “So it’s a date.”

     Jason got up, picked up his gun from her bed and walked to the window. Before he jumped from it, he turned to her and said, “Fuck you,” and Stephanie couldn’t help thinking how weird this guy was.

“He what?”

     That was it, Barbara was the one who was going to murder her. Or him. Stephanie didn’t really know who she was more pissed at. Maybe she killed both of them. Maybe she killed herself.

     “He seemed nice?” Stephanie offered, even though the first ten minutes she’d been talking to Jason she’d thought he was going to murder her. Why did she think everyone was going to murder her? “I mean, he was carrying a gun and all that shit, but he was completely harmless to me.”

     Babs pinched the bridge of her nose, and Stephanie threw a chip at her. “Don’t be mad, it’s not like I followed him or something to catch his attention.”

     Okay, maybe that wasn’t the best argument she could have used. Babs sighed. “That’s why we never introduced you two to each other. Because disaster was going to come next.”

     “Hey!” she complained, though she was probably right. “Dead Robins have to stick together.”

     “You weren’t dead,” Babs reminded her.

     “But everyone thought I was,” Stephanie remembered her.

     “You don’t know him?” Babs tried.

     “Come on, I’m just going to help him solve a case.”

     “That’s the thing with Jason, his way of solving cases is killing the one who’s committing the crime.”

     “He told me he wouldn’t,” she muttered, but even to her ears, it sounded lame.

     Part of her knew Babs was right—this was Jason Todd they were talking about, the infamous dead Robin. All of the members of the bat-clan had told her how awesome he’d been, how intelligent and funny and good-hearted, but all of them had also told her that he’d come different from the Pit, that he wasn’t anything he’d been before. Bruce especially had told her to keep herself away from him. Tim once told her what happened between father and son when son came back, pistols blazing, heads chopped, and Stephanie understood why he didn't want her near him, but she wasn't Robin, not since a long time, and she wasn't going to follow everything he told her. Plus, Stephanie working with Jason would definitely make him mad, so... it was an easy decision, really.

     And even though she’d seen Jason grabbing a gun this morning, Stephanie had also seen him scratching the back of his head with said gun, which was more of an idiot move than a murderer move. She’d seen him shooting at criminals, putting bullets in heads, but she could understand him. He’d been Robin, followed the no-killing-rule for years, and it’d got him killed. The method hadn’t worked, and now he was trying a new one. It was… understandable, if not a little fucked up.

     “What are you thinking?” asked Babs, taking a sip of her coffee.

     “I’m going to help him,” Stephanie declared, and she could picture Babs screaming inside her head. “Just to see how it goes. If he kills him, then I’m out. Pinkie promise.”

     Barbara sighed profoundly, so Stephanie threw her another chip that Babs caught with her mouth. Legends only, really. When she was finished eating it, she mumbled, “I’m going to regret this.”

Stephanie was glad that she didn’t have to wear her Spoiler cost—suit, because her mom was at home.

     She was supposed to be working, but she said that she’d taken the night off. To stay with Stephanie. She said she’d prepared hot chocolate and popcorns so they could see together this movie on TV, and when Stephanie got out of her room dressed with something that wasn’t her pajamas, her mom’s face saddened. “Where are you going?”

     “Um. I’m, you know, mom, I’m—”

     “Are you going on a date?”

     “No, mom, I’m—”

     “You should’ve told me!” Okay, she was going on a date, at least that made her mom happy. “Sweetheart, why don’t you put on some makeup? Ooh, I have this beautiful skirt that’s going to fit you so well. And I think I still have a lipstick your aunt gave me that’s really beautiful.”

     So before her mom got her hands dirty, Stephanie was wearing jeans, a top and a jacket. That simple. But after her mom got her hands dirty, Stephanie was wearing a motherfreaking skirt—how in hell was she supposed to fight with a skirt?—a white top, boots and, she had to admit, a super cool denim jacket with a flower printed on it. Her mom had tied up her hair into a ponytail and Stephanie had borrowed some loop earrings she didn’t intend to give back.

     The only thing she really, really hated about what her mom had done to her was the makeup. She had her eyes painted and her cheeks flushed and her lips were glossed with the brightest red ever. It wasn’t that she didn’t like makeup; she loved makeup. It was that she didn’t like makeup when it was on her face.

     “You look beautiful,” her mom said, and Stephanie was afraid she would start crying, so she suggested seeing the movie until Jason arrived. It was only 10:20p.m., so they sat on the sofa, drank hot chocolate and ate some popcorns. Her mom said, “Remember to brush your teeth before you go out,” and Stephanie rolled her eyes because of course she would brush her teeth before leaving.

     It was a good film, and Stephanie was all kinds of annoyed when the doorbell rang—she’d thought Jason would come in by the window like before, and was also dismayed when she realized that he would have to say hi to her mom, who thought he was her date. Oh boy. What if he was wearing his helmet?

     She pretended not to hear the bell and kept drinking from the mug, but her mom turned to her with a puzzling look on her face. “Didn’t you hear the doorbell?”

    Stephanie waved her hand in the air. “Shh, mom, this is the best part of the movie.” It wasn’t. The main character was talking about his crush to a friend, and it was the most boring dialogue Stephanie had ever heard.

     “Come on!” Her mom jumped from the sofa and ran to the door. “I really want to meet him!”

     “Mom, no.” But it was too late, she’d already opened the door. She ran to the door and thanked god because Jason wasn’t wearing his helmet. He was wearing his shirt. The one with a bat symbol in it—he crossed his arms over his chest as soon as he saw it wasn’t Stephanie the one that had opened the door, but she was sure her mom had noticed. Stephanie cleared her throat and said, somewhat nervous, “Mom, this is… uh, Jacob.”

     “Um,” was all he said.

     “You know what,” her mom muttered, “I’m not even going to ask about that shirt.” She held up her hand for him to shake; Jason looked like he had been hit by a train, and Stephanie had to admit that it was funny seeing him so confused. “I’m very pleased to meet you, I’m Crystal.”

     “I’m Jacob, apparently,” he said, amused.

     “Be good with my daughter,” her mom added.

     After kissing her mom Stephanie hurried to get out of there, though she didn’t know what was worse: her mom chastising her for going out—not really, but—with a guy with the bat symbol stamped in his chest or Jason asking her what the hell was going on and why his name wasn’t Jason anymore. She didn’t want to be in either of those situations, and wondered if she could escape from her doom.

     As soon as they were out, Jason sputtered, “What the fuck was that?”

     “My mom got a free night,” she explained, shrugging. “I thought you would come in by the window, like last night.”

     Jason shook his head. “I thought your mother was away,” he said, hands in the pockets of his jacket. “You didn’t tell me anything.”

     “You didn’t ask.”

     “Just—” he grunted, and Stephanie’s lips turned upwards. “Let’s go.”

     “Whatever you say, grumpy.”

     He looked at her like murder, and Stephanie was looking for it, really. “What are we doing now?”

     “I’m walking you to the alleyway,” he said, “and then I’ll hide. The man’s supposed to be there by midnight.”

     Now she was confused. “It’s like, eleven o’clock.”

     “I like to be prepared,” he said matter-of-factly.

     “I could’ve finished the movie,” she muttered.

     Jason snorted. He sniffed the air like a dog, which was fucking weird, and said, “Were you eating chocolate?”

     Damn it, she’d forgotten to brush her teeth. God, if you’re up there, what have I done to displease you? “No.”

     “Hmm,” was all he said.

     They spend the rest of the walk in complete silence; Stephanie didn’t know him much, but she’d thought that he was chatty like Dick—because, Jesus Christ, Damian and Tim were quiet enough, always focused in the mission. But Jason didn’t speak any more words until they arrived to the alleyway, which left her time to think. She thought about how hungry she was even though she’d drunk a lot of hot chocolate and ate popcorns until her lips hurt because of the salt and then, when she thought about the salt, she realized that she was also thirsty—she considered asking Jason to stop somewhere and buy a bottle of water, but Stephanie didn’t think he would stop for that, so she kept walking. Her feet hurt, and Stephanie now knew why Jason had wanted to meet so soon—the alleyway was far, far away.

     “I’m cold,” Stephanie muttered at some point just to see if that started a conversation, but Jason just chuckled to himself.

     She really was cold, though—the denim jacket didn’t keep her warm at all. And she wouldn’t admit it out loud, but she was kind of tired; she knew she was supposed to be a creature of the night, a vigilante, but this morning she’d woken up real soon to finish some homework and study and was actually struggling right now to keep her eyes open.

     “We’re here,” he finally said, and Stephanie was tempted to hug him.

     “Where is your costume?”

     Jason glared at her, and Stephanie lifted her chin, proud of herself. “Rooftop.” He checked his watch. “It’s almost time. I’m going to hide, and then when the time comes, I jump.”

     “You are so dramatic, you know that, right?”

     Jason blushed, and Stephanie was going to explode from happiness tonight. She annoyed him so much it was funny. “Shut up and enter the alley, would you?”

     She pouted. “That’s it? I was hoping you’d give me a kiss at least.”

     Rolling his eyes, Jason showed her his middle finger—so mature—and went away, leaving Stephanie alone in a creepy, dark alleyway, which wasn’t anything new, really. The worst came when she started to hear the thing she feared the most: rats, cockroaches walking in the shadows—she didn’t mind being the bait to catch a killer or a drug seller or whatever this guy Jason wanted to bad was, but Stephanie couldn’t deal with cockroaches on her own. Not now, not never.

      A cat she couldn’t see hissed, and Stephanie moaned. She tried leaning on the wall, but jerked back when she felt something sticky. Oh my god, where had Jason got her into? She just stood there, awkwardly, with her arms crossed over her chest; Stephanie looked upwards, trying to spot Jason on the rooftops, but he was nowhere to be seen. Babs’ words came to her head, and Stephanie realized that maybe this was a trap—maybe he wanted to blackmail Bruce or something and was going to kidnap her… it was a stupid plan, but it could be that.

     Stephanie opened her mouth to call Jason and ask him a few things when someone entered the alleyway, and…

     He was beautiful.

     Stephanie had been expecting this short, old man with balding hair and wrinkles, but it was a tall, young man with long, auburn hair and a beard she was sure she would dream about. He had black skin and a dazzling smile that meant trouble was approaching. Clearing his throat, he took off his glasses to reveal cold, black eyes. Why did bad guys have to be so handsome? Why couldn’t the guys at university look like this?

     “Hello,” he purred, and Stephanie smiled against her will.

     “Hi,” she purred too, trying to sound mature, because even though he was young, he wasn’t that young.

     “They get younger every time,” he said and, okay, that was creepy. “Well, do you have the money?”

     “Of course.” She didn’t even have money of her own, but he didn’t have to know that.

     He chuckled. “Where?” He was looking at her boobs, and Stephanie was tempted to tell him that she wasn’t even wearing a bra to keep the money, so eyes up, buddy. He took a step towards her, and Stephanie smiled—nervously.

     She was starting to realize that this was a badly planned plan. If Jason didn’t appear right now, Stephanie was sure that the guy would start to get touchy or notice that there was something wrong. Stephanie knew how to take care of herself, but come on, she was wearing a skirt. She was supposed to be the bait, and Jason was supposed to do the hard work.

     “So?”

     Goddammit. “Um, I want to see it first.”

     What was ‘it’? She had no idea, but whatever gave her more time.

     “Really?” He was looking at her like if she was a freaking piece of bacon, oh my god.

     Stephanie opened her mouth to say… something, she didn’t know very well what, but the guy was faster. “You know where those lips would look better? Around—”

     “For fuck’s sake,” exclaimed Jason, who appeared in that exact same second, thank god. He walked into the alleyway, hands in pockets, and Stephanie just knew he was grinning like a madman under the helmet.

     The guy looked at her confused, and when Stephanie shrugged, he threw a punch at her. He was angry, impulsive, so she could dodge it easily. When the man was behind her, Stephanie kicked him, slamming his head against the sticky wall. Jason whistled, and Stephanie’s brows furrowed when he saw him there, standing as if he’d planned all of this.

     “I hate you,” she sputtered, the guy moaning behind her. “You didn’t even need me for this.”

     “I wanted to see how you worked.” He picked a gun from his belt, and Stephanie’s stomach turned.

     “He’s down already,” she said, as if that alone could change his mind.

     “Yeah, some of the kids he sold drugs are down too.” His voice was grim and dark, and wow, it was like hearing another person completely. He took a step forward, and Stephanie put herself between the guy, who was still half-conscious on the floor and Jason, who had his free hand curled into a fist. “Brown,” he said, and he sounded really mad.

     “You told me you wouldn’t kill him,” she said, though she knew it was futile.

     “Well I lied.”

     Babs was right, this was going to end badly. “Listen, if you kill him now, he won’t be punished, you’d be freeing him or whatever.” She would give anything for seeing his face right now, fucking stupid helmet. “Let’s call the police, I can speak with them, tell them he was trying to sell me something.”

     Jason shook his head. “You don’t understand.” He laughed, but it was sour and didn’t have any humor. “If the police take him, then what? He would be in prison for how long? Three years? Four? And then he’s out and selling shit again. Don’t you see?”

     He was kinda right, but Stephanie wasn’t there to let him murder anyone. “You told me you wouldn’t kill him tonight. I don’t care if you kill him tomorrow or in a week, but tonight you don’t. You promised,” she tried.

     “I didn’t,” he said.

     “Jason, please.”

     He grunted, and Stephanie could tell that she’d made it, that she’d convinced him not to kill this bastard tonight—she honestly didn’t care if he killed him tomorrow—and she was so, so sure she’d done it. But then, as if in slow-motion, he looked down to the guy, and she followed his gaze just in time to see him stab a knife into her leg.

     Stephanie screamed her lungs out and instinctively kicked his face with her un-stabbed leg before falling to the ground. Jason shot him in the shin—at least he didn’t kill him, though now Stephanie was tempted to borrow his gun and commit murder herself. Jason cursed, they guy cried out in pain, and Stephanie was afraid to even think of what the hell was on the floor that was so goddamn wet.

     “This wouldn’t have happened if you’d just let me kill him,” Jason said, helping her get up.

     “Shut up,” she said, trying not to cry. “This is all your fault. Oh my god, I’m going to catch at least a thousand infections for just standing here. My mom’s not going to like you as her son-in-law after this.”

     Jason actually laughed. “Does it hurt too much?”

     He was absolutely enjoying this. “No,” she answered, gritting her teeth.

     “I’m taking you to the manor.” Before she could say something like, ‘we can go to the hospital I’m wearing normal clothes’ or ‘Bruce is going to stick a batarang in out faces’ Jason picked her up in bridal style, and Stephanie had never been more pleased in her whole life than when they got out of the alleyway and a man saw them and immediately ran away screaming his head off.

     “You could take your helmet off,” she said.

     “Where would be the fun in that?”

     Stephanie sighed, though she was actually smiling. “Show-off.”

[thejokersenigma]

Deadly Voice Part 5

I’ll apologise now - i wrote in the middle of the night when i couldn’t sleep before my exam so it might not be very coherent!

Oh next chapter there will be Joker - so sorry its taken so long!

Thanks again for reading - as always any comments are welcome!

Masterlist

And so, on the Thursday afternoon, I found myself in a new skirt and blouse outside a club called the Purple Umbrella. I knew this place – it was owned by the Penguin. Jake hadn’t told me that – he had simply handed me the address on a slip of paper and told me they were expecting me at 3pm before he left for work this morning.

I couldn’t be too annoyed at him - he had been really kind to over the last few days. Thanks to him I had recovered relatively well and remained safe. Though I had often wondered if he had been extra nice to me in some gestures and I wondered if he was hoping for more from our relationship down the line – perhaps that second date.

It was all very sweet but at the moment my life was still too up in the air to even consider anything romantic – not that he wasn’t nice looking and really sweet - and hell maybe there would be something there in the future – but I couldn’t think about it now.

I stepped up to the entrance of the club and knocked on the large dark door. A large, well-built stern man pulled open the door and looked me up and down with a dark look.

“Uh, hello I am [Y/N] - [Y/N][L/N]. I-I-I’m here for the job open?” I said nervously.

The man looked at me a bit longer as if trying to sense a lie in my words. He obviously didn’t find it because he nodded curtly at me and stepped out of my way to allow me through.

I hesitated - the last thing I wanted to do was get involved with yet another crime lord, but it was one of my very few options at the moment and I thought I could guess what Jake had been thinking when he said he may have a solution to the Joker problem.

I stepped into the club and followed a short darkened corridor until I turned a corner into the main room. There was a bar to my left and a large stage with blue curtains one either side directly in front of me. In front of the stage was a dance floor and to the sides of the room were booths with deep blue cushions and silver accents. The rest of the space was taken with a scattering of dark tables and chairs – each with their own little lamp. It seemed fancier – classier, than my last job - but none the less this was definitely a club.

“Ahem.” Came a disapproving cough from a table near the open dance floor, knocking me out of my examination. I glanced over to the noise and through the dim light I could make out a large, rather rotund figure seated on one of the chairs. This must be the Penguin.

“Sorry.” I apologised quickly. He simply ’hmmed’ at me – clearly not approving, but not doing anything about it either.

I moved toward him so I was stood in front of him - I noticed a few men sat in one of the booths to the side of the room - they didn’t appear overly alert, but I was sure they were packing some form of weaponry.

Now I could see the Penguin clearly I saw he wore a dark blue pinstriped suit over his beefy frame with a drink in his hand of some brown liquid. A bowler hat sat on the table next to him and I thought I could see the handle of an umbrella lent against one of the chairs. His nose was hooked and his face was quite pinched for such a large man – I could see where the name came from.

“Mr Penguin.” I greeted – not sure if I should shake his hand or courtesy so I settled with standing awkwardly and doing a slight head bob.

“Get on with it then – I don’t all day.” He waved his hand lazily toward the stage.

“O-oh, y-yes sir.” I mumbled, taken aback by the abruptness. I shakily made my way to the stage and positioned myself in front of the microphone – I had no idea if it was on but he clearly didn’t care either way.

“Is – Is there anything in particular you would like to hear?” I questioned nervously.

“Surprise me.” He smiled at me menacingly. I gulped slightly knowing my choice was going to make up half of his decision on me.

I could feel my palms were sweaty – I didn’t normally get bad stage fright, but I was rarely being properly judged on my singing. I began to sing – soon finding out the microphone was on. I had chosen a soft sweet melody, classy – something I felt suited the man before me in his suit and hat.

Once the song was finished I stayed where I was and waited. There was silence. I continued to stand there awkwardly, not sure if I had permission to move. After what felt like at least 5 minutes I couldn’t take it. “Mr Penguin?” I practically whispered but the microphone amplified it.

“What made you chose that song?” He asked me in a monotone. That didn’t sound good.

“I- I don’t know. I mean I – I guess I tend to choose my songs for those that listen and – and that –“

“That was for me?” He questioned he asked politely – but I wasn’t fooled by his apparent niceness.

“Y-Yes?”

“Hm.” He seemed to think for a bit. “You’ll do – you’ll do nicely.” He said smiling at me showing his slightly discoloured teeth - I took that as a compliment, even if the smile was a bit creepy and I smiled back in relief – that solved my job problem – at this point I didn’t even care what it paid. Now just for my other problems.

“I sense there is something else on your mind my dear.” The penguin suddenly said. I had drifted into my own thoughts trying to think how to broach the subject and jumped at the words. He seemed to be kinder in the way he spoke now that he had decided he liked me. I nodded at his assumption.

“Spit it out my sweet – you’ll be my new star, I want to know what it is that is bothering you.”

“I- I was just wondering…” I paused, trying to find my courage. “I need somewhere to stay.” I blurted out. He looked at me questioning and I thought I ought to explain – “I’m staying at Jake’s but I-“

“Not returning the feelings?” I looked at him questioningly and he let out a short laugh. “That boy was always falling for any sweet girl – I’m surprised my dear that he hasn’t proposed yet!” He barked out with a deep laugh. I stayed silent.

After recovering from his laughing fit at his own joke he eyed me again – “No home of your own?”

“It’s not safe.” I said shortly.

This piqued his interest. “Oh? And why would that be.”

“The Joker.”

He studied me for a while before breaking his silence. “And why Miss [L/N] should I invite the Joker here by protecting you?” he asked me in a sickly sweet voice. “You’re not that valuable my dear – there are other singers in Gotham.” I had no answer and dropped my head to my look at my feet in embarrassment – he was right, it was stupid to ask – no one wanted the Joker on their doorstep looking for me.

He must have felt something like pity for me as he questioned – “What is it exactly that has got that trickster after you?”

I felt like I ought to tell him the truth – probably one of the few people that might actually understand - “I blew up his club.” I mumbled into the microphone not looking up.

“Ha!” I heard the short bark of a laugh. “Oh my lovely - in that case indeed you are more than welcome – Ha!” he guffawed. “There a room upstairs you can take - rest assured this place is locked up tight out of hours and surveillance is constant.” He smiled at me again.

I stood in shock looking at him. “Thank- Thank you Mr Penguin.” He nodded in acknowledgment.

“Now my dear – it’s just the matter of the contract and it is pretty binding I’m afraid.” I nodded – at the moment I felt like I would do nearly anything.

“It is pretty simple my sweet – you work for me when I need you to - evenings and maybe the occasional day social of mine. You’ll live upstairs –“ I nodded in agreement – sounded fine. “You don’t leave this role unless you are fired or die.” My face fell slightly at this. But then I thought – singing was the only job I’ve ever really wanted to do anyway - and it was safe - well relatively. Plus it kept me out of the Joker’s reach and in the city I loved. The penguin was watching me think, waiting for my answer, eventually I nodded. “Wonderful! Now your pay will be more than adequate – enough for outfits, living and all that. There may even be bonuses - if you please me that is.” He smirked at me. “Your songs will be chosen for you – I will send a notice if I want anything specific of you on a night.”

“Yes Sir.” I continued to nod at everything he said.

“Wonderful – you start tomorrow night.”

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “The Silver Demon”

So eerie and strange…That’s how mostly everyone would describe The Silver Demon after seeing her for the first time: not that too many get used to the way you look anyway. You are always around The Joker, a sinister presence in his shadow, perfectly complimenting his menacing aura.  A flawless symbiosis between two outcasts bonded together by the unbreakable connection of blood: the infamous Silver Demon is the daughter of the equally controversial King of Gotham.

“Don’t do it!! Do you hear me?! That’s an order!” the Joker shouts and you smile, unimpressed:

“You know I don’t take orders from you.”

“Go away! Come get me with our men once I’m inside the prison!” he barks, hoping to convince you.

“No. It will take too long and I don’t like being apart from you. I used my power to get inside here; it would be a waste not finishing my mission.”

“You know what it will do to you !! Why are you fighting me?! Listen to me just once!!”

“Stop yelling,” you calmly reply, touching his chained hands. “Let’s see…” you look around, calculating your options while he pants, enraged. “We are inside an armed container, placed inside a larger one. Everything glass sealed on the outside, pulled by a SWAT Team truck. So many police cars in the convoy, impossible to escape. Aren’t you happy you have me?” you bend over to kiss his forehead and J is less than excited he is being ignored; one thing in his life he cannot control: you.

“Don’t do it…please…” and you realize how difficult it is for The Joker to say the word since he’s not accustomed to it.

“Are you ready?” you wink, disregarding his wish.

The lights start flickering, his heavy chains rattling under the pressure of your uncanny energy. The truck takes a sharp turn, making you fall on your knees. You reach your arms and hug him tight, your silver hair shining so brightly he has to close his eyes.

“Here we go,” you take a deep breath, pressing your forehead against his.

“Don’t do it…” The Joker whispers, already knowing the battle is lost.

“Too late,” is the last thing he hears before vanishing together with the mysterious young woman that came to his aid…again.

Nothing left behind in the temporary mobile prison but his Arkham straitjacket and broken chains, the only proof he was ever there. The notorious Prince of Crime won’t make it to his destination and they have no idea he’s gone yet.  

**************

So eerie and strange…That’s how mostly everyone would describe The Silver Demon after seeing her for the first time: not that too many get used to the way you look anyway. You are always around The Joker, a sinister presence in his shadow, perfectly complimenting his menacing aura.

You have long, silver hair that seems to be made of liquid metal: there are rumors it’s not of this planet and maybe there is some truth to it, not that a single soul can attest with certainty. It’s lightweight and so ethereal it almost floats, giving you that intimidating vibe.

Your bright green eyes create quite a contrast with your pale skin tone; probably even a lighter tone than J’s. A little bit taller than him, you definitely seem imposing and feral beyond any doubt.

A witch, a metahuman, an unholy being: you’ve heard it all and none of them are close enough to describe what you really are. Not that you care about what they label you as; The Joker calls you pretty names and that’s enough. You don’t need anybody else’s acceptance or approval. Only his.

What you love the most about The Joker is the fact that he doesn’t even seem to notice you are different. And you are aware J loves the fact that you don’t seem to notice he is different also. A flawless symbiosis between two outcasts bonded together by the unbreakable connection of blood: the infamous Silver Demon is the daughter of the equally controversial King of Gotham.

*************

“Princess, wake up,” you feel your cheek gently slapped and you open your eyes, exhausted.

“Dad…” you mumble, “…are you mad at me?”

“I told you not to do it, Y/N ! You used so much of your power, the number is down to 50!!!” he forcefully grabs your hand, showing you the markings on the inside of your left wrist.

You were born with that: something like a timer branded on the ivory skin, the number going lower every time you use your energy. You both believe it represents your lifespan and once the timer gets to zero, you will probably die.

Nothing terrifies The Joker except the fact that he might lose his daughter: the only person on earth that never judges or tries to change him.

“My power would be such a waste if I don’t use it, don’t you agree?” you cuddle to him on the couch, yawning.

“Stop saving me!” and he wants to say more but you interrupt.

“Who else am I supposed to save?! I can’t save you from yourself but at least I can bring you back for selfish reasons: you know I can’t bear it when you’re gone…I feel so alone…” your voice softens and you look up at him, upset.

He sighs, defeated. You always say disarming stuff like this and oddly enough J can’t argue anymore.

“I’m so tired, daddy,” you slowly blink, getting off the couch. He helps you up, taking you to your bedroom.

“Are you allright?” he asks while you get under the fluffy covers.

“A-ha, I just need to sleep for about a week to recover, you know how it goes. Don’t get in any trouble; I can’t wake up once I start dreaming. I don’t want anybody to take you away, I hate it when it happens and I’m all alone…” you whimper and he lingers by your bed since you won’t let go of his hand.

“Don’t lecture me, Pumpkin!” The Joker growls and you signal him to sit by your side.

“Dad…” you switch the topic, “do you think mom is still alive?”

You think about her every year around your birthday…and some other days also. Next month you will be 20 and she inevitably popped in your mind.

“I really don’t care if she is dead or alive. She was scared of you and ran away; that was her choice,” J bites on his lip, wanting to keep this as short as possible. “That woman is responsible for your stupid nickname, The Silver Demon. Give me a break!” he huffs, playing with your hair that twists around his fingers on its own, just like tiny sneaks. “You’re my perfect Silver haired Doll, not the Devil,” he bitterly states and you grin at his heartwarming comment.

“Thank you for not being scared of me daddy,” your eyes get teary and he had enough of the sappy stuff.

“Cut it out and rest; I’ll wake you up in one week,” The Joker mutters and you close your eyes, not wanting to cry in front of him. You fall asleep caressing his knuckles, each tattooed with the Japanese Kanji symbol for “Silver.”

*****************

You woke up on your own a couple of minutes ago. It’s night time and you jump out of bed when you notice the date on your cell phone: July 10th. Jesus, you slept more than 7 days like you usually do: this time you were out for 13 days. Why didn’t your father wake you? He said he would.

“Dad?… Are you here?” you start shouting, walking around the penthouse while rubbing your eyes. “Daddddyyyyy!!!!”

Apparently nobody’s home but you. You try his cell and there is no answer. You try Frost’s and he doesn’t answer either.

What’s going on? you pout, uneasy at the thought that maybe something happened. You scroll down through all the number on your “Contacts” list, ready to begin a research on The Joker whereabouts when suddenly you see the note on the kitchen counter:

“Mister J was taken to Belle Reve.

Ambush at the hideout by S-63 freeway, someone sold us out.

Can’t use the place anymore.

Stay put, we are working on getting him out.

J.F.”

Stay put?! you frown, distressed. No way !!

****************

The Joker lingers by the back wall of his glass prison, humming a song in the quietness. After today’s interrogation, he was brought back in a hurry and placed in silent confinement, his favorite. If they believe this is a punishment, they surely don’t have a clue about his personality.

He refused to answer all the questions about you and bit a guard’s ear off, knocking another one unconscious after tripping him and stomping on his head. J lost it when the two wards made some inappropriate remarks about you: they called you a freak, underlining how unfortunate it is for them to have to deal with demented lunatics and their weird offsprings; it makes their jobs dangerous and tedious. Plus, all metahumans should be annihilated, not captured or tried to be reasoned with.

That was the last drop that made him snap and retaliate, not giving a damn about consequences.

He suspects that his file has a bunch of notes gathered from the previous therapy sessions deeming his daughter to be his weakness or whatever fancy term they use for such stupid psychology assessments. The funny thing is you are not his weakness; they are idiots for even believing it.

The Silver Demon is her father’s strength, even if he doesn’t know it himself.

The neon lights turn off and on, getting J out of his trance.

He gasps when he sees you right in front of him.

“What are you doing here?! Get lost!” The Joker backs out in the far corner of his room, angry you don’t listen.

“I came for you dad,” you smile and approach, excited to be near him.

“You don’t have to, I’ll get out eventually ! Don’t you dare disobeying!!” the low groan and hurtful incoming sentences briefly halt your enthusiasm. “Don’t you realize I never wanted you either?! You’re frightening, repulsive and you make my skin crawl ! I only kept you around because of your power that you are dumb enough to use and save me all the time!!”

“Daddy…” you sniffle, “I know what you’re doing and it won’t work. If I don’t save you, then who will?” and you rush in his arms, eager to get him out of there. He tries to push you away, tormented by his dark thoughts and he’s almost blinded by the intense glow of your silver hair. “Are you ready?” you double check and him hugging you back makes you so warm.

“Stop it !!! That’s an order!!!” his fingers dig in your jacket, desperate to change the outcome of your plan.

“You know I don’t take orders from you,” you snicker in his ear and the lights flicker again before complete blackness.

Belle Reve prison has an unexpected power outage besides the regrettable loss of every single video footage for the night; such a puzzling enigma and no reasonable explanation for it.

The Clown Prince of Crime is nowhere to be found and they have no idea he’s gone yet.

*****************

“It’s down to 7…just 7…” you hear J’s voice as you are waking up in your bed at the penthouse.

“Dad…” you stretch and feel his grasp on your wrist. “What’s going on? Was I out for a while?”

“This…this fucking thing is down to 7,” he shows you and you can tell he’s flustered. Your father is in bed by you, probably didn’t leave your side.

The engraving on your skin doesn’t lie: the timer shows 7.

“You can’t use it anymore, do you understand?! It’s almost close to nothing!!” and he stares at you with those intense blue eyes and for the first time in your life you see panic in them: it makes you anxious.

“Promise you won’t use it ever again!”

“I won’t use it, Daddy,” you stroke his cheek, on the verge of crying.

“You have to promise!” he raises his voice, kissing your marked wrist. “I don’t want to have a dead child!” and his persistence breaks thinking about it. “Are you going to do this for me? Promise!”

“I promise,” and you start sobbing, scooting over in his arms, not because you are afraid you will die but because The Joker showed you again that for him you are not a monster but simply his daughter.

***************

As soon as you enter the room, you can sense the tension oozing out of them. Your father is in a meeting and you are joining the gathering just now since you barely woke up a few hours ago from your weekly sleep. You feel rejuvenated and fueled by the inquiring eyes glaring in your direction: some already know you, but it’s still not easy to tolerate your presence. Mostly shiver with nervousness, The Silver Demon given them goose bumps.

“Hi Daddy,” you lean over his chair, wrapping your arms around his neck and he acknowledges you with a moan.

“Sit by me.”

Your ghostly light green eyes analyze each member of the opposite gang, trying to figure out why something feels off.

There is a lot of negotiation and debating going on, the parties involved not being able to reach common ground. You know your father is losing his patience; he’s not a patient man.

“These are my terms and it won’t change,” The Joker puts an end to the ruckus, fed up with the turmoil and all the guys talking at once.

“But Mister J, we don’t have …” their leader speaks and gets cut off.

“Did you fucking hear me?! I hate repeating myself so I won’t. If you are not interested, get the fuck out and don’t waste my time!”

When J starts cussing, things are getting very serious.

Silence in the room, then the potential business partners stare at each other, then at you two, then at your men.

“Something’s not right,” you whisper through your clenched jaw, alerting The Joker of their weird behavior even if you don’t have to.

“Here’s the deal, Mister J,” the leader talks once more. “We actually came for her,” he tilts his head towards you and instantly guns are being pointed in all directions from both sides.

“You came for Y/N?” J straightens his back, outraged they have the nerve to attempt and snatch you away: it’s not the first time an assault on your safety is being seeked. You’re definitely worth a lot on the black market, either for the government to own and experiment with, or just for underground organizations: private collectors of rare creatures such as yourself. The premise of a huge payout makes a lot of idiots forget their boundaries and these fools are clearly trespassing a fine line.

“Yes,” the simple answer makes J roll his eyes, pissed.

“Hell will freeze before anybody takes my daughter away!!” he fumes and you grin, not worried about your safety, but his.

“So what, are we all going to die here?” the mobster sarcastically flares his arms around.”For a freak?! For a…”

The laud bang and the bullet piercing his skull put an end to the rant. Frost aims his pistol at the person sitting next to the leader, calmly asking:

“Next?”

The Joker already knows what follows: he pushes you to the ground, taking cover behind a few chairs, hit in the shoulder by the first rebel shrapnel.

“You son of a bitch !” is heard from their side before the deafening sound of dozens guns going off at once fill the air with smoke.

You see he’s bleeding while firing his gun, killing everyone that tries to get closer and you know it’s too dangerous to stay, even if a lot of your men are still standing.

“Dad!!” you scream so you can get his attention.

“What?” he shouts back, trying to make out what you’re saying.

“You need to get out of here!!” “What? I can’t hear you !” and his gun unloads a few more rounds towards the ones trying to reach your temporary hideout.

“I can’t take you very far ! My power is almost gone, but I’ll make it !” you smile and that gets his attention.

“What are you saying?”

You pull his head close to yours and the silver hair shines again and he freezes, shocked.

“This is the last time I can save you daddy!”

“What are you doing??!! Get away!!!!” he tries to distance his body from yours but you cling to him and won’t let go.

“If I don’t save you, then who will ?” and that sweet smile of yours makes him smile back for a few seconds before you both vanish in thin air.

*******************

The Joker slowly opens his eyes, gazing at the blue skies above. He feels the shoulder pain stabbing his flesh and suddenly something tickles. He brings his hand close to his face and holds his breath: a strand of silver hair working its way around his fingers. J turns his head to look around and sees more chunks of silver hair flying all over the place, gushes of wind moving them around in the air, some still caught in the thick grass.

You are not far from him, barely breathing while your eyelids are getting heavy.

“Dad…” you call out to him with faint voice and he crawls to you, getting on his knees in order to lift you up. Your head is bald now, the silver locks gone. The Joker checks your timer in a hurry and his heart stops when his fear is confirmed:  the number is set to zero.

“You promised you won’t use it! You promised!!!” he gently shakes you, hopeless for once.

“M-my power w-would be such a waste if I d-don’t use it, don’t you a-agree?” you stutter and he watches in horror as your ivory skin starts cracking, a few pieces already floating in the air and turning into ashes. “What’s happening to you?!” he presses on the skin, attempting to keep it in place.

“I d-don’t know…I t-think I’m g-going away,” you make an effort to answer and he rests his forehead on yours, not knowing what to do. “D-don’t cry, it’s so u-unlike you and it s-scares me, “ you whisper and you close your eyes, feeling his tears on your face. “It d-doesn’t hurt, s-so don’t cry,” you comfort him, wanting to go to sleep.

“I order you to stay with me!” his faint request echoes in your mind.

“I d-don’t take o-orders from y-you,” you clutch on his bloody shirt as you strain to focus.“Daddy…t-thank you for not b-being scared of m-me…”

Your hand lets go of his shirt and he gasps, numb to everything else but the insufferable loneliness creeping up in his heart:

The King of Gotham has no Queen and no Princess. Just him and his devils now, no Silver Demon to keep the others at bay.

He can’t stop your decay, more and more skin keeps on cracking, disappearing piece by piece and he can’t watch anymore. He shuts his eyes, holding you tight, wanting to keep you together. The thought of being left behind with no physical evidence of your existence is enough to make him lose whatever trace of sanity he has left.

***************

The Joker is afraid to move or open his eyes. He held you for hours, incapable of making a single sound. He’s terrified at the thought that you might break to pieces if he tries to move so he doesn’t. Unless he’s hallucinating, there is something he’s still holding, but doesn’t have the strength to see what is left of his daughter.

Another hour passes by and he finally decides to open one eye, then the other: you are still in his arms, looking very…normal. No more pale skin, no more silver hair. J gulps, checking your left wrist: no more timer either, it pealed with the rest of your outer shell.

“Pumpkin?…” he mutters, staring at you, not knowing what it means. ”Pumpkin?…”

Only silence and nothing else.

The Joker studies your face while stroking your rosy cheeks, stunned with the transformation.

“Pumpkin?…”

A very low grumble, unless he’s imagining everything. Faint movement also and hope makes him squeeze you harder to his chest.

“Pumpkin?…”

“Daddy…” you manage to utter, fluttering your eyelashes.

You’ve never seen such a look on your father’s face.

“You’re grounded !” he decides on the spot and you softly chuckle:

“W-why are you c-crying? It really scares me…”

“I’m not crying,” he interrupts, wiping his tears. “I’m just thinking of what I am going to do with such an ugly daughter. You look terrible!”

“Do I ?!” you furrow your eyebrows, unable to move yet.

“U-hum,” he shortly replies before crushing you in his embrace. “You’re so ugly.”

*************

The King of Gotham has no Queen but he has a Princess.

No Silver Demon to save him anymore, just a daughter to keep the darkness at bay.

And she is the only person on earth that will never judge or try to change him.

 Also read: MASTERLIST

http://diyunho(dot)tumblr(dot)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

[diyunho]

The Joker x Reader - “SALLY”

Nobody knows why the Joker keeps on calling you Sally and you answer to it. Are you two in a weird mood again? Playing games? Messing around? Better not to ask any questions if one wants to stay alive.

Frost has the flu. It started three days ago and got worse today so you ordered him to stay in bed. He had a bunch of things assigned from his boss but you convinced your boyfriend to give him a break. You really don’t want to talk about what it took to get J’s approval, but it involves a very wild previous night, the sofa in the living room and the couch on the balcony, handcuffs, two lingerie outfits and ice cream. 

Needless to say the Joker is not happy you are so doting with Jonny.

“Are you dying Frost?” he growls from the armchair, watching you touch your best friend’s forehead and cheeks to assess his fever.

“No, sir,” he turns his head towards a displeased Prince of Crime.

“Would you like to?” the question comes and you sigh, regretting taking J with you into Jonny’s quarters. Not that you could have said no since he followed you closely.

“No, Mister J,” Frost replies, pulling away from you because he realizes he’s walking on thin ice without even doing anything.

“Then stop touching my woman!” J barks, pointing his finger towards you two.

“Baby, I’m touching him, OK?” you state your evident action, not looking his way because it makes it worse; you don’t want to encourage this behavior.

“Tech-ni-ca-li-ties,” the Joker grumbles, his blue eyes burning.

“Take this, it’s for body ache,” you hand over 3 Ibuprofen capsules to Frost with a glass of water, hoping J will calm down. You feel the intensity of his gaze even if your back is turned. The gun clicks and you decide to finally glare at your boyfriend.

“Would you like another body ache, Frost? A more… permanent one?” the words echo in the bedroom, louder and louder since he’s annoyed and his wrecked temper is starting to show more and more.

“Stop it, baby!” you frown, stepping in front of the gun. “He’s sick and I’m merely taking care of him.”

J inhales, staring at the ceiling for a few seconds, deliberating on his next step and lowers his pistol, placing it back in the holster.

Frost wants to reply but instead you talk again:

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how pissed are you J?”

You always use the scale to have an idea about how mad the Joker is.

“About a 5,” he sniffles, scratching his arm.

“We’re doing good then!” you cheerfully conclude and go over to kiss your boyfriend as a reward he’s only a 5 even if it seemed it was much worse. J purrs and squeezes you tight in his arms, glad his possessiveness and jealousy dictate the mood around there.

Jonny begins to cough his lungs out and J reaches for his gun but you stop his hand and placing it around your waist again.

“Noooo, don’t do that,” you continue to kiss him and peck his lips, then his eyes, then his cheeks all over.

“But why does he have to interrupt, Princess?” J complains, pulling you in his lap and enjoying you pampering and showering him with kisses.

“He’s just sick, baby,” you whisper in his ear, then kiss his neck and… Frost won’t stop coughing and he feels so weird when you two converse like he’s not even there but he’s used to it. After such a long time, Jonny knows it’s part of your strategy.

“I think I’m getting to a 7!!” J angrily admits and you quickly get up, taking his hand and urging him to get up.

“Oh, no, please don’t get to a 7! We’re going, Jonny! I’ll be back later to check up on you,” and you drag your boyfriend out before he completely loses his shit.

********************

“Y/N!!!!!! Y/N!! Hey, Kitten! Com’ere!” he yells so you can hear him from downstairs.

“What is it?” you rush to see what’s going on.

“Doll, I think I have a hair growing on my arm!” he shows you the spot by the Bat tattoo.

“Where?” you bring your eyes really close so you can investigate and there is actually something there. “Oh my God, baby, you’re growing hair on your body?!” you panic and it doesn’t help the fact that he’s already displeased to the maximum by the situation.

“Dammit, woman, you’re making it worse!” The Joker mutters, aggravated to the point of having a tantrum, urging you to bring the tweezers so you can pluck out the culprit.

You don’t move and really have to let him know:

“I really love you but if you start growing hair on your body I’ll have to find me another man; I don’t like hairy guys,” and you lift your shoulders up to emphasize you mean it. Oooooh, that was the wrong thing to say, even if it’s not true.

J instantly snaps and the only solution to the perturbation is to inquire:

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how pissed are you baby?”

“Between 7 and 8!” he shouts back, tossing his cane to the ground and stepping on it, mad beyond control, and you know you’re the next to pay but you’re in luck:

“Wanna have angry sex?” you smirk, relieved (when he’s angry between 7 and 8 you can usually calm him down with sex).

“Yeah!!” J turns his attention towards you, slamming you on the kitchen counter and starting to rip your clothes off.

Dodged the bullet there, thank goodness he didn’t reach a 9.

It also turned out it was false alarm: no hair, just a faded shade of black pen marking, probably from when he was tracing locations on Gotham’s map and didn’t realize he touched his skin with it. At least you had a huge smile on your face for the rest of the day because… did he go crazy on you or what?! And you totally enjoyed it.

*********************

The Joker hates that you and Frost have your thing: you have your jokes, your stories and all the little things only the two of you know about since you are best friends. Sometimes it only takes one word and you know what the other is talking about. The King of Gotham never had a thing with anybody and it makes him hold a grudge against your friendship. He knows there is nothing going on between you and Jonny that way but it doesn’t make him less discontent.

You are aware of it because your boyfriend told you about it once when he was a 6 on the mad scale. You were fighting and in the heat of the moment he threw that in your face; you didn’t really have a comeback afterwards since you didn’t know how to handle it. That’s why you are determined to find a thing that only you and him can have. So far, no luck.

*********************

** When you showed up at the penthouse with your left cheek all cut up, things escalated faster than expected. You broke into Van Criss laboratories to extract a new toxin J wanted to sell on the black market and got ambushed. After a chase, lots of shooting, a knife fight and your face slashed in the process, you barely made it out of there. You wanted to make The Joker proud so you sneaked in at night alone, didn’t take any henchmen with you. Not the best idea you ever had.**

He keeps on furiously pressing the cuts, attempting to stop the bleeding.

“Fuck, Kitten, what the hell were you thinking?!” He rarely cusses like this so you know it’s not a good sign. J is not being gentle and it stings sooooo bad when the rubbing alcohol is being poured on your fresh wounds.  You want to cry badly but you’ve read somewhere that a person looks 11.33% uglier when they cry and you can’t afford that right now with your left cheek a mess.

“I-I’m sorry,” you whimper, trying to hold the tears in, clinging to his white shirt that has your blood all over. “I-I got what you wanted though,” you stutter, closing your eyes really tight since the pain won’t stop.

“Do I really care about that right now?!” J kicks your leg and it makes you jump. “Who did this to you?” he snarls, patching and covering with gauze whatever he can, fully aware you’ll have scars after this solo adventure of yours.

“A-a guard, “ you bury your face in his chest since he’s done. “Am I… am I gonna be ugly now?!” you sound so desperate it makes him more enraged.

“Nobody does this to my Pumpkin!” The Joker reckons with a clenched jaw. “I have to gather our men, we’re going on a mission!”

“Where are you going?” you ask with a muffled voice, still taking refuge in his arms, worried at his impulsiveness. He ignores you and caresses your hair, absent minded. You feel his body getting stiff and have to ask:

“Ummm…on a scale of 1 to 10, how pissed are you baby?”

“A 12!!!” J angrily exclaims, pushing you away and storming out the door, slamming everything in his way towards the exit.

You are left alone in the middle of the living room, patched up in bloody bandages; you even forgot to cry: a 12??!!! What is a 12??!! How do you handle it?! It’s not even on the scale!!! It makes you hysterical: what is The Clown Prince of Crime going to do?!

Well, The Van Criss lab location you were at earlier tonight got blown up to pieces: it’s all over the news. There was not a single wall or pole left standing, no survivors.( At least so far they didn’t find any). The only clue that might tell the authorities what happened was found on the concrete fence near the South entrance: a laughing mouth, full of teeth, painted with neon green spray and the inscription on top of it: “Nobody messes with my girl!”

******************

Your face healed and The Joker was right: you have deep scars ingrained in your skin. You thought you will hate your new appearance but actually kind of like it: it suits you. J believes it makes you look badass and that’s more than good enough for you.

The best compliment he found so far is telling you that you don’t look as bad as Deadpool. Thank you, honey; you know how to make a girl feel special. T____T

J insisted to give you a face tattoo on top of your scars to make them look better: black stitches with small bows at each end. You were very skeptical about the whole project but the King of Gotham is not used to take no for an answer.

You analyze everything in the mirror and have to admit J did a good job: the tattoo is a success! Plus, you can always cover it with make up if you really want to.

You trace the lines with your fingers and …idea!!!

“J!! J!!!” you land on top of him since he’s in bed, watching TV. “Hmm?” he pretends not to notice you’re almost naked.

“What do these scars remind you of?”

“Ummm…. Deadpool?” he teases and you punch his shoulder, pouting.

“You’re incorrigible!”

“I know, but tell me anyway, Kitten,” he slaps your butt, winking at you with that evil smile on his lips.

“Guess!”

“My answer is the same unless you enlighten me Doll,” The Joker purrs, shifting so he’s on top of you.

You reach for his cell and Google something really fast then show him on the screen:

“Sally from Nightmare before Christmas, baby! My scars almost look like hers,” you excitedly indicate and he chuckles. “I can be your Sally,” you toss the phone at the end of the bed, wrapping your arms around his neck. “This will be our thing: I’m your stitched girlfriend; what do you think?”

Him staring at you without blinking makes you nervous. Oh, no, is this taking a bad turn?

“On a scale of 1 to 10, how pissed are you J?” you sigh, disappointed your idea got dismissed.

“Zero,” J mumbles, roughly kissing you. “Daddy likes his new Sally,” he snickers, delighted he finally has a thing with somebody. That somebody being his girlfriend makes it even better.

“Really? You mean it?” you pull on his bottom lip and J purrs louder.

“Yes, I mean it; now lets get my new Doll out of these rags.”

********************

Nobody knows why the Joker keeps on calling you Sally and you answer to it. Are you two in a weird mood again? Playing games? Messing around? Better not to ask any questions if one wants to stay alive. After all, nobody dares to upset the Clown Prince of Crime and his Sally. It could easily escalate to a full blown 12 again.

And 12 is not even on the damn scale!

Also read: MASTERLIST

http://diyunho(dot)tumblr(dot)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist