#and alexis’ kiddo is so adorable I love her she’s always so excited to be there and talk to everyone | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

artificialqueens · 5 years ago

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if we have eachother (Branjie/Scyvie/Everyone) 1/5 - PinkGrapefruit

chapter one. in which family means chaos

A/N - hey guys! i finished this way before i thought i would (but please don’t hold your breath for the next chapter) and i wasn’t expecting to go soooobranjie but ah well - shit happens. Thanks to Frey and Meggie for putting up with my ass (and Saiph for validating me early on) (and Clanjie for the idea) and lets get on with the show!

Vanessa names his kids after ’The Notebook’ characters because ‘well, I want them to be happy and find love and shit’ and they live in a bubble for a few months between the end of August and the season eleven announcements. It’s anything less than calm and a learning curve and a half before he sleeps full nights again (when he does, he’s got Allie under one arm and Noah on his back, but he’s never been happier). He cuts down his drag shows and leans on his sisters a little for support, A’keria talks him through the little things his research didn’t prepare him for - how they don’t like being alone and can’t quite understand when they’re being addressed because their old family wasn’t ideal. He never cries in front of them, only drinks a glass of wine every few nights, alone on his couch. Brooke is around when he can be, all 6’3 of a Canadian man who becomes just so soft around the kids - they don’t know of their Papa’s relationship with Uncle Brooke. It’s for the better as then again, they’re three.

Then season eleven premieres and his world is turned back on its head, moments filtering through his mind like sand particles until everything makes it through the hourglass. He spends more time away from his kids than he would ever want to, but still manages to read them a bedtime story over Facetime. They celebrate their birthday in early March (and Brooke triumphantly reminds Vanessa that his kids are Pisces). It’s a family affair and they - a good handful of season ten and eleven sisters - go to the beach, Noah staying safely in the embrace of Nina while Allie jumps waves with Scarlet and Yvie. Brooke and Vanessa stay under the giant umbrellas, watching the kids as they wonder how they got this lucky. The twins may not be in any relation with Brooke, by relationship or blood, but he takes pride in knowing he was one of their first people, that means more than any crown he could win. The Latino regularly fields questions about how he co-parents with an ex but the answer is more complicated than it might seem, so he keeps his mouth shut and watches his son be spun around on the other man’s back, flying.

It’s a moment of solitude in a time that is far too busy for his liking. He longs for days back in the summer when he would sit in the garden, watch them run around until they fell onto the warm grass. Ice cream and dance parties and the smell of freshly washed baby hair - apple shampoo.

He’s doing okay, he swears, as he juggles Allie and Noah between Alexis and A’keria and anyone else who’s in town at the time. Then he books four straight weeks in California and he’s doing better. It runs all the way up to Drag Con and then they start the tour, something which - against all odds - he can bring the twins on. It’s going to take a village but he’s endlessly excited for the upcoming months.

He makes tiny matching jackets and buys them light up sneakers, takes them to a mini street dance class at the local community centre, and while Allie takes to it like a fish to water, he watches Noah struggle. When they get home, the kids are still singing ‘The Greatest Show’ (who decided that was a good street dance song, he will never know), and he tries on a few outfits for them. Noah’s personal favourite is the strings on his thigh-high lace-up heels. Dressed in the reunion outfit and a random pink wig of Allie’s choice, they spend the early afternoon dancing in the living room to RuPaul songs till the twins are exhausted enough for a nap. He has to carry them upstairs one by one, laying each on their bed and removing the sneakers so that they sleep better. He tucks them in, presses kisses to their foreheads, and returns to his drag studio to tidy up the mess they made.

When he hears clumsy footsteps in the hall, he turns and finds a tiny little brunette staring at him. She’s got eyes that encompass oceans, big and blue and they’re streaming as she sniffles, hugging her ballet bear (a present from Brooke) close to her. He takes two big strides and envelops her fragile frame in his, whispering words of comfort as little hands grip into his vest. “Shhhh Allie-baby,” he coos, hates hearing her cry. “‘C’mon baby girl, it’s okay.” - umber meets cerulean as he pulls her away slightly, facing her. “What happened?”

The girl balls her tiny fist around one of his vest straps, mumbles a soft and muffled “Papa,” into his torso before sniffling.

He sets her down and holds out a hand, walking her back to her bedroom like his mama always taught him to treat women. He sets her on her bed and looks at her softly. “C’mon boo, we gonna have a story?” She perks up a little, relaxes her grip on the teddy bear as she snuggles under the covers. Vanessa is momentarily impressed by how Noah is still asleep.

“Once upon a time, there was a queen called Miss Vanjie -”

Vanessa is endlessly surprised at how people step up if you let them. It’s the second week of the tour and he’s almost run out of easy ways to entertain the twins, has let them watch more YouTube than he is proud of and begins to wonder how anyone thought it was a good idea to bring them on tour (he forgets this every night when he shares a double bed with them and wakes up to them cuddled into him like a giant teddy bear). His silence comes when they are napping in his and Brooke’s respective bus bunks one afternoon, the two men happily drinking their coffees and doing absolutely nothing at all.

“You do know they’ll all help if you let them,” points out Brooke, after a while. He vaguely gestures to their sisters, lounging around the bus in various states of disarray. The shorter man just shrugs and sips his coffee.

“They’re my kids,” he says after a while. “I don’t want to inconvenience anyone.” He states it like it’s fact, like it’s at all a justification - it’s not, as far as Brooke is concerned.

“Yes,” he formulates carefully, “but we’d rather hang out with the tiny humans than be annoyed with them?”

Vanessa sighs - for not the first time in their fractured relationship, the older man is right.

So he lets people help. After their nap, Nina takes the twins into the venue with her - plays ‘Drag Is Magic’ over the loudspeakers while everything is set up around them. The shorter man watches proudly from the balcony as his kids dance to his spelling bee song, yelling the lyrics to the whole album after a couple of shows. It becomes a routine, and then afterwards, Vanessa pulls out some healthy snacks and they sit on their laps as Uncle Nina and their Papa discuss the political state of America.

Michelle walks in on this one day, the adults’ legs dangling off the stage as Allie and Noah shovel watermelon into their mouths. She looks on in pride as she sees a young man she knew could do great things, transform in front of her eyes into someone special.

On the afternoon of the Chicago show, Vanessa comes back from his rehearsal to find Scarlet performing a fashion show with the twins, Noah twirling around in Yvie’s yellow kaftan as the respective queen watch on in hysterics. The small boy is drowning in the floaty material and almost falls twice as Yvie keeps catching him. Allie’s dark hair holds a denim mane (that, in turn, is being held just above her head by Scarlet so that it doesn’t fall off). He pauses at the door for a second or two, takes in the couple as they play around with his kiddos - ‘Sissy that Walk’ blasting through a wireless speaker as they prance like lunatics.

“You two are gonna make great dads,” he teases when the song stops, winking at the men as he hoists Allie onto his hip.

Scarlet holds two fingers up in a suck-it motion and Yvie cackles loudly, as she attempts to remove her outfit from the bouncing little boy. Once she succeeds, she ruffles his hair triumphantly before leading him to the door.

“It’s been a pleasure, Vanj,” she says as Scarlet loops an arm around her waist.

“Yeah, they can bask in my excellence anytime,” adds the other queen, deadpan.

“Yeah, right bitch,” retorts Vanessa, covering Noah’s ears as Allie snuggles further into his hoodie. “Thanks though.”

Noah waves as they leave the dressing room, returning to the safe haven of his and Brooke’s where there are blankets on the chairs, toys on the floor and most importantly, Uncle Brooke.

Brooke promises to teach Noah ballet after Vanessa had a wine-fuelled rant about how ‘that boy is so fucking clumsy I swear he’s gonna give his Papa a heart attack, holy Jesus’. He sits in an empty dressing room with the kid and holds his waist while he gets him to point one foot. He might be four but he’s a quick learner and pretty soon the man has him in a nice first position. Calmer than his sister, Noah has a special place in Brooke’s heart - always considering him as taking after him more so than his Papa. They take a break after ten minutes and the boy snuggles into the Canadian’s side, warm body on cool shirt - his dark hair soft on his arm.

He takes him out for pizza afterwards, his treat (Allie and Vanessa went to a pop-up mini hip hop class so Brooke has free control). He wipes the sauce from the boy’s mouth, cuts up the pizza into smaller pieces for him and, not for the first time, feels like this is his son. It stings a little, knowing he could have had this, but resuming his place as favourite uncle helped clean over the wound a little.

On their way out, Brooke sits Noah on his shoulders, tiny hands curling into his hair. A woman bumps his arm,

“Your son is adorable,” she says and while it’s surely meant kindly it feels like someone poured a glass of ice water down his back. He nods politely, Canadian coolness running over him as he moves past.

“Papa!” calls Noah from atop his shoulders and he stops with a start. He takes a deep breath, followed by a heavy swallow before the boy speaks again.

“BrookeBrooke!” the man swings the boy around so his legs are around his waist.

“Yes, honey?” he responds eyes all warmth and kindness and furlongs of love.

“I can see Papa!”

The man swings Noah back onto his shoulders before looking around curiously. Sure enough, coming towards them from across the street are Vanessa and Allie, smiling like Cheshire cats. He raises an eyebrow but it doesn’t stop the smirk developing on his face.

With practised ease, Vanessa gently pulls Noah off Brooke’s shoulders while Brooke swings Allie onto his back. “Heya, Baby Girl,” he coos as she wraps her short arms around his neck. The warm caramel of her skin a contrast against his own Canadian pale.

He gives a familiar nod to the other man, “Hey, boo,” and they return to the theatre in easy silence. Nothing needs to be said that they both don’t already know - he can’t tell if it’s better that way.

They all go for a cast dinner. Ariel does the kids’ hair so that Vanessa can get ready in quiet for once but he misses the sound of them. He stands in his hotel room bathroom but cannot help the overwhelming emptiness he feels. Every noise he makes feels like it carries on forever - endless within the confines of the small room. He keeps flicking his eyes up to the mirror out of habit, watches the bed in the reflection like it is going to jump at him. He’s so distracted that he cuts himself shaving, feels the blood dripping down his neck before he refocuses enough to look. He moves to Ariel’s bathroom instead.

When he gets there, he hears a familiar Canadian voice through the door.

“I must save you, prince Noah!” comes the enthusiastic cry, followed by squeals of laughter.

“It’s Queen Noah,” his son replies, diving comically onto the double bed as Vanessa opens the door.

Allie and Ariel watch as the queen tries to coerce his daughter’s hair into a braid of some sorts - the look of concentration is comical as Allie keeps laughing at Brooke’s antics. He smiles, a contented smile and moves through to the bathroom, finishes getting ready in something close to peace (but loud and annoying and full of so much joy).

After the meal, Brooke and a couple of the others head to a nearby bar. He flirts recklessly with different men for a few hours, downing whatever shots they buy him and dances till his feet hurt. It doesn’t quite feel right, but it’s okay - he’s content.

Or at least he thinks he is as he turns around from a particularly attractive Puerto Rican man to see Yvie and Scarlet waving frantically at him from the bar. He mutters an apology and leaves a neat kiss on the man’s cheek before wandering over there. He’s three tequilas down and doesn’t particularly care but they’re looking at him and not each other so he assumes something must be wrong.

Something is.

They show him Scarlet’s phone (which he cannot read right now) and shout things at him that he loses the meaning of the second he hears ‘Noah’ and ‘hospital’.

He’s always thought it was a cliché when people in movies say that time stands still. Never really been impressed by the shots of the flashing lights and muffled screams, but this? This feels like a car crash in slow-motion, two trains going off the rails, a hurricane with no preparation, a fireball fired at a wooden house. It is plummeting down a hill with no pedals, no handlebars, just falling - it is too scary to be flying.

Yvie offers to drive - knows that if she doesn’t, Brooke will try and he is infinitely too drunk to do that. She gets them to the ER significantly quicker than their satnav tells them they will - cuts corners, runs a red light or two but Brooke cannot find it within him to care (Scarlet enjoys it way too much).

When they arrive, the Canadian jumps out of the car with a fervour, runs headlong into the building, grabbing onto the reception desk as he stops.

“Hi, sorry,” he heaves, partially nerves, fully out of breath from the cardio. “Noah Mateo?”

The woman sighs with disinterested boredom. “Yes, waiting room.” she says, gesturing vaguely to the open seating behind him. He turns, eyes scanning frantically, trying to locate him.

They lock eyes, Brooke racing over and pulling the shorter man into a hug, warm and long. He pulls away every so slightly before pushing his nose into the other man’s hair and inhaling deeply the smell of his cologne.

“I’m so- I’m sorry, baby,” he mutters, muffled by Vanessa’s hair. He exhales but pulls him in tighter, arms winding around him as his tears wet his white button down. They pull apart so that Vanessa can blow his nose and Brooke immediately turns on his heels to face the little girl. She’s sitting on one of the hard plastic chairs, tear tracks down her face as A’keria runs her hand through the braid Ariel had done so nicely. He kneels in front of her, takes each small hand in his.

“Allie,” he says, long, drawn out and soft. “Baby.”

She surges forwards to hug him, her petite body barely the length of his torso and he holds her close as he stands up,her head tucked into the crook of his neck. Vanessa loops an arm around his waist and leans into him for support - they must look quite like a family, he supposes blankly.

“What happened?” He asks, quiet but serious, as he thumbs Allie’s back.

“Peanuts, apparently - the woman was real mean.”

Brooke tilts his head a little, curious.

“They were on at me ‘cause I should’ve known ‘parently.” He sniffles a bit, head resting on Brooke’s heaving chest. He decides he never wants to let him go.

It’s funny, he later recalls, how emergencies bring you back to the truth. How one awful thing can reset you a little, till you see good things.

“Noah Mateo?” a nurse calls.

The entire cast stands bolt upright as Vanessa steps out of Brooke’s grasp.

“Uhuh,” he says, hoarsely.

“Two people, come with me.”

The shorter man tugs at Brooke’s arm, an invitation of sorts, as Silky unlatches Allie from him. He allows himself to be pulled through the waiting room, not looking at the rest of the families in distress, not wanting to imagine that could’ve been them. Vanessa intertwines their fingers and he squeezes his hand tightly. It’s an “okay”, a “this is going to be alright”, an “I’m here.”

The woman shows them through to a small room where Noah is on a drip; there are not as many tubes as Brooke thought there would be, and he’s so very glad, but even seeing the boy look so small - it hurts in a way he didn’t realise it could. Vanessa’s grip loosens as he breaks away, moving to grip his son’s hand fiercely. He can hear his soft murmurs as Brooke takes the opposite chair, stroking the boy’s arm.

“Por Dios. Por Dios. Por Dios.”

“I’m gonna have to make you some arroz con dulce when we get home, baby.”

The shorter man looks up at him and smiles. It’s tired, like all his energy has been removed and he’s running on coffee for the third day, but he feels the warmth in it nonetheless.

“I’m grateful you came, Brock.”

As he looks into Vanessa’s eyes, wind meeting earth, he knows there is no place he’d rather be.

They don’t discuss it until three days later when they are back in LA and the kids are at A’keria’s with Silky. Vanessa would be lying if he said that that assuaged all of his fears of leaving his kids alone, but it certainly saved some of them.

Brooke comes over and they drink wine on his couch watching ’Pretty Woman’ and discussing nothing and everything all at once. Vanessa cries at the ending (as he had every time he’s made Brooke watch it) and the taller man hands him a tissue before the tears start rolling. He smiles a wet smile and shuffles a little, so his legs touch the other man’s. As the end credits roll, he mutes the TV, facing Brooke head on.

“We, we should talk ‘bout this,” he says, calm and collected.

Brooke sits up straighter, back cracking as he moves to be more comfortable.

“Yeah,” he drawls slightly.

Vanessa nods at him to continue.

“I know we had our issues, but-but I love these kids. And I want to be here for them.”

“I don’t think I’m seeing your point,” responds the Puerto Rican - he is, but he needs him to say it.

“I want this. I want us.”

“How do I know you ‘ain’t just gonna leave again? How, Brock?”

The other man hesitates and Vanessa keeps talking.

“There are kids involved now, I need you to understand this shit.”

“I know,” the Canadian concedes. “You better believe I will protect those kids with my life.”

“That’s not the point though. What’s different now?” This stumps Brooke as the other man gets more and more frustrated. He’s tired and upset and wants this more than anything but there is more on the line than a title and some money. There is life - human life filled with blood and flesh and emotions and love and he can’t just offer that up as collateral.

Brooke reaches out across the invisible canyon that spans the sofa, grabs his hand in an oblivion that he doesn’t quite know how to talk his way through.

“My mama always taught me not to make promises I can’t keep,” and Vanessa’s heart breaks a little.

“But I promise those kids will be my priority until the day I fucking die.”

Vanessa hums a little, his face a mix between unhappy acceptance and overwhelmed. He’s been watching Brooke through this, hopeful but always a little cautious. His heart is telling him to jump this man’s bones run to Brooke, to hold on and never let go. But his head has reservations.

Brooke can sense the apprehension from miles off, smells it like a wolf sniffing out its prey. He wants to hold him and promise the world but he’s already done that - those kids are his world.

“Whatever freedom I have doesn’t compare to how I feel when I’m with you, José, and if I can’t have that, I don’t want anyone.”

It’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back, the boulder that sets off the avalanche, as Vanessa surges forward to wrap his arms around his neck, pushing Brooke’s back into the cushions of the sofa.

“I would have taken you back at the promise,” he mutters, smiling into his neck.

“I would have waffled until the end of time,” replies the other man, a grin adorning his face. It suits him, Vanessa decides as he pulls back.

“FUCK, SHIT, FUCK!” he exclaims suddenly. “WE NEED TO PICK UP THE KIDS.”

The inclusion of ‘we’ doesn’t go unnoticed as Brooke dies laughing on the couch, the man’s sudden change of mood utterly hilarious to him.

“HURRY YOUR ASS UP, BROCK, OR THERE WILL BE NO COOKIES.”

They arrive at A’keria’s stressed and tired, LA traffic still too much for the both of them. When Silky opens the door (with a raised eyebrow at the pair who look on sheepishly), the twins rush out to meet them. It’s late, and Vanessa should be mad that they’re not asleep but as he watches them tackle Brooke to the ground - he realises he doesn’t care.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #nina west #yvie oddly #scarlet envy #ariel versace #branjie #scyvie #s11 #fluff #hurt/comfort #parenting au #if we have eachother #pinkgrapefruit #dad!vanjie #concrit welcome #submission #canon compliant

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diyunho · 8 years ago

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The Joker x Reader- “Grandpa”

The Joker just had a heart attack at 55; he was ordered to rest and not do anything for a while. Of course he’s not the one to accommodate the doctor’s recommendations but you are there to make sure he complies. And the adorable grandson visiting all the time makes things better no matter what.

Related to LOST saga: http://diyunho.tumblr.com/post/154759609421/the-joker-x-reader-x-dead-son-lost

The Joker is in bed, flipping through the TV channels, bored as hell and beyond.

“Baby, look who’s here to see you again!” you announce and open the door, letting your 5 year old grandchild in the bedroom.

“Grandpaaa!!!” Alexis charges at the bed, jumping on it to sit by J.

“Hello, Pumpkin,” he kisses the kid on the top of the head, then feels the need to add: “...and don’t call me grandpa, I told you before, yes?” he tickles the little one. “I’m not that old, I just turned 55.”

“That’s pretty old,” you mutter and J grabs the drawing handed over by his grandson, huffing:

“I heard that, Princess!”

“You can call him grandpa, honey, don’t mind him,” you ignore your husband’s nonsense.”Don’t confuse Alexis, ok?”

“Whatever! You guys always plot against me,” The Joker complains (what else is new?), bringing the paper closer to his face. “HA!HA!HA!HA!” he cracks up, seeing the five sticks and a circle with a bunch of green lines around it representing him. “The kid nailed it, he has talent!” he kisses the child’s forehead, smitten with the masterpiece. “You absolutely captured how handsome I am,” he winks, amused on a whole different level.

“You like it grandpa?” Alexis smiles, excited to see J is so happy.

“Oh, I absolutely love it!” and he begins to laugh with all his heart noticing the stick figure laying down at his feet, wearing a black cape, representing Batsy. “Oh my God, this is great!” The Joker proudly states, not bored anymore. “This is going on the fridge, Kitten! Actually no, I’m gonna frame it! Great job, give me a kiss.”

Your grandson reaches over to peck J’s cheek and the inevitable question arises again ( he asks this at least twice a week):

“Why are you so pale, grandpa?”

You snicker, going through your clothes in the walk-in closet, but eavesdropping on them like you always do. The Joker always tells the same story and Alexis listens with his mouth opened every single time:

“When grandma fell from heaven right in front of me, she was so beautiful that I died for a few minutes, but then she kissed me and brought me back to life. Ain’t that right, Doll?”

“Suuureeeee,” you peek out of your spot, amazed how J’s baloney sounds so interesting to your grandchild, even if he heard it a million times.

“I was dead for a while, that’s why I look so pale.”

“Waaaahhhh,” the kid gasps, fascinated, kissing The Joker’s cheek again.

“Isn’t grandma beautiful? How was I supposed not to die when I saw her?” he devilishly smirks.

“Yesssss,” Alexis meows when his grandpa squeezes his face together.

“She doesn’t look a day over 50, am I right?”

“Yessss,” the child agrees again, squeaking under J’s embrace.

“That’s because I am 50!” you shout, irritated.

You certainly didn’t marry him for his flattery skills.

“What did I tell you, hm?” The Joker purrs. “Your grandma’s a fox! Hey,” he whispers, ”you got a girlfriend since last time I saw you?” (which was… 2 days ago), your husband teases the little one, elbowing him and he giggles like crazy.

“N-no, nooooo!” he struggles to respond, trying to catch his breath, even if he doesn’t really understands the meaning.

“You’re not missing anything,” The Joker continues to whisper, accomplice with his grandson. “She starts out as your girl, then she wants to get married, then she wants to have kids and she keeps on telling you what to do. Princess! Nobody tells me what to do!!!” he yells, addressing the issue and you would answer if you would give a damn. He just hears your heavy sigh from the closet so he lowers his voice again:

“What did I tell you? Probably she’s rolling her eyes right now.” He’s right, you are because you can still distinguish their “man to man” conversation. “Don’t get a sassy girl like grandma, alright? She’s very feisty! Pinky promise?” J gets deeply secretive and Alexis agrees to it, sealing the pact with his tiny finger. It feels really important so he kisses J’s cheek once more, thrilled they have another secret together.

“Grandpa, are you going to die?” the sudden question unexpectedly comes and it makes you sad. It was a child’s innocent curiosity but it really pulls at your heartstrings.

“Nooo, I’m not going to die: grandma would kill me and never speak to me again.”

“Exactly!” you take a step out of your sanctuary, then turn around and go back in so they won’t see your teary eyes.

“What did I tell you, hm? She’s so feisty, don’t get a feisty woman. Actually, I take it back: get one, they’re awesome.”

Alexis repeatedly nods a yes, not having a clue about what The Joker is rambling about, but signs he’s going to keep his lips sealed. Him and J are great ones for secrets nobody knows about.

You finally get fed up sorting out all your dresses so you come out, joining the guys’ club on the bed. The kid screams and jumps up and down until your catch him in your arms and cover him in kisses. He absolutely loves it since you two spoil him rotten.

“You look like your dad when he was your age,” you get sentimental, remembering when Kase was a baby.” Alexis hugs you and laughs in your ear, wanting to play some more.

“You know what that means, Y/N: Kase resembles me so well and when this kiddo grows up, he will probably look like me too. I have such amazing, strong genes!” The Joker concludes, flaring his arms around.

“Yeah, baby, it’s all you, you didn’t get any help,” you scoff, lifting your grandchild up in the air and he snickers, urging you to lift him higher.” I wish I could but you’re heavyyyyy!!!” you grunt, still making an effort and he screams up a storm, delighted and laughing.

“I really think we should have a granddaughter,” J brings up the subject again. “ I need a tiny Princess to play with; she’ll have to have my charm and your attitude.” “Shut up, J!” you snarl at him and he kicks you with his leg.

“I’m going to put in an order with our kid and his girlfriend, we waited enough.”

“It’s not a McDonald's drive-thru where you just go and order a granddaughter,” you shake your head, wishing this one was actually true.

“Yes it is. I am The Joker and if I want something I get it.”

He’s overconfident on this one.

“Can I go play in my room?” Alexis jumps from the bed on the floor, hyper and energetic after he warn you out. He has his own room at the Penthouse since he sleeps over so often.

“Yes, you can go,” you agree, falling on your back on the soft pillows, drained. “Goodness, he has so much stamina,” you inhale, watching him storm out of the bedroom.

“Just like me, I told you I have good genes,” J really makes it a point of reminding you.

You crawl in bed by him and tuck a rebel strand of green hair behind his ear, smiling, letting him have it:

“You do, you really do.”

“Don’t think I didn’t notice your red eyes. Were you crying in the closet?” J frowns, tracing your lips with his thumb.

You avert your gaze, gulping, and he forces you to look at him:

“I just had a stupid heart attack, I’m not dying or anything, got it?”

“U-hum,” you sniffle, cuddling to him.

“I mean, come on, you would probably drag me out of the coffin so you can send me to get you a diamond necklace you want or something. Am I right?” he caresses your back and you chuckle:

“Yes, I would.”

“See? I can’t disgracefully embarrass myself like that at my own funeral, it would be a disaster. So I have to postpone the moment.”

“Wow, you and your scenarios,” you actually laugh even if you are not in the mood to.

“Hey, Y/N, wanna fool around later on?” The Joker kisses you, covering both of you with the blanket.

“No, the doctor said you can’t strain yourself.”

“Huh??!!! Since when having sex means I’m straining myself?” he mutters, annoyed.

“You’ll have to ask the doctor, baby,” you nonchalantly reply, entertained on how stubborn he is all the time.

“What?! I’m not gonna ask the doctor if I can sleep with my wife. No way!“

“I wouldn’t risk it,” you try to reason with him.

“I’m a natural, ok?! Pfftttt, straining myself,” J mocks, insulted, squeezing you in his arms.

“Oh,” you suddenly remember, “time to take your med,” and you get out of bed, searching for it on the coffee table.

“I’m not taking that stupid pill, I don’t need it!” he whines, unhappy.

“You’re worse than Alexis, you know that?” you scold him, taking one tablet out of the foil.

“You can’t make me take it!” he pouts.

Well, I guess there is only one thing left to do.

“If you take your medication we can full around later tonight,” you wink at him, biting on your lip.

“This is sabotage, Kitten!” he squints his blue eyes, sulking. “But you have good negotiation skills. Deal!” he reaches his hand for the tablet and you give it to him. “And I want you to wear that red outfit I like,” he grins, anticipating all the fun.

“Which one? I have about 50 red ones.”

“The red, lacy one.”

“Which one? That narrows it down to about 15.”

“Jesus, Doll, the strapless one.”

“Two piece or one piece?”

“The two piece, woman!!!!” he raises his voice, impatient.

“Oh, that one,” you pretend you finally got it even if you knew all along. You just love to tease him. “Wanna have another heart attack, old man? That’s a very indecent outfit,” you smile and he takes his pill, lifting his shoulders.

“Not the worse way to die,” he grinds his teeth, rightfully concluding it’s worth the risk.

“Alright, you asked for it,” you pucker your lips, realizing it’s so quiet. “I think I will go check on our grandson, I don’t like this calm before the storm,” you let J know, certain the kid is definitely up to something.

“I’ll be waiting, Princess,” The Joker purrs as you head towards the door.

“Fine, get ready; you’re in for a treat,” you tease him before closing the door behind you.

“I don’t have to get ready, you know I’m a natural!” he shouts and hears you giggle as you walk away.

Definitely worth having a sassy woman in your life, The Clown Prince Of Crime decides, wanting to take a nap before the grand finale tonight.