#gotham sees a tiny baby wondering around her streets alone and decides none of that | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hypewinter · 11 months

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Bruce carefully approached the child playing by himself in the park. The child giggled as they played with chalk, the sidewalk illuminated by a single street lamp.

"What are you drawing?" he said softly, not wanting to alarm them.

The child turned, revealing themself to be a little boy, no older than 5. He had raven black hair and icy blue eyes. Bruce could practically already hear Oracle snickering on the other end of the comms. She had probably already taken a snapshot of the boy through his visor and posted to the batkids group chat which contrary to popular belief, he did know about. Bruce sighed internally. He'd never hear the end of it when he got home. Especially if he had the kid in tow. Let's hope that didn't happen.

"Hello Batman!" a cheery voice broke him out of his thoughts. "I'm drawing a gargaggle!"

Bruce refocused on the boy who showed no signs of fear. He didn't even look surprised which was strange to say the least. "A gargaggle? Do you mean gargoyle?"

The boy furrowed his brows for a bit before piping up again. "I do! It's such a funny word. I can never get it right."

"I know the feeling," Bruce said, crouching down next to the boy. "Sometimes I struggle with words too."

The boy's eyes went wide as if he couldn't believe the Batman struggled with words. "Say-" Bruce started, "-it's pretty late out are your parents nearby?"

The boy shook his head. "No, I don't have parents," he said as he went back to doodling.

Ok Bruce don't freak out just yet. "Oh, then do you have a guardian of sorts? Like an older sibling, or another family member? Like an aunt or grandparent?"

The boy shook his head again. "Nope. Oh! But I do have a friend. She's very nice and gives me lots of gifts and special things."

Alright, he could work with that. Maybe this 'friend' was the kid's guardian and he just didn't realize it yet. That could happen if he was put in their care recently. Bruce cleared his throat to get the boy to look up at him again. "Do you know where your friend is right now?" he asked.

The boy smiled wide. " 'course I do! She's right over there!" As he spoke, he pointed to a clutter of trees, just to his left. "She really loves you and your family," he said. "She's shy though, so she hid when she saw you coming."

"I see," Bruce replied as he got up. "Well maybe I can convince her to come out." He walked over to where the boy had pointed and pulled apart the bushes, hoping to find a woman who he could talk to about the dangers of wandering around at night. Instead he found nothing.

Bruce heard a giggle from behind him. "That's not where she is silly," he said.

"But that's what you-"

"She's not in the bushes, she's in the shadows. She's really good at hide and seek you know. Once we were playing and she hid in the shadows. Then she snuck up behind me from another shadow. It was really unfair! I never win hide and seek or tag against her," the boy said, starting to pout.

She's in the shadows? A meta? And one with a similar power set to Signal no less. Hmmmm.

Bruce began making his way back to the boy. "Then where is she right now?" he asked.

The boy shrugged, as he returned to his drawing once again. "I don't know. Sometimes she leaves and doesn't return for days. Since you're around, I don't think she's coming back for a while."

Great, just great. He had managed to scare off a little boy's only guardian in the middle of the night. Good going Bruce. he chided himself. He crouched down next to the boy again. "Do you know how to get home? Maybe we can wait for your friend there."

The boy turned to Bruce again. "Sure do!" he said, puffing out his chest. " 'cause I'm a big boy and big boys know how to get home on their own." he recited.

That was another point for the growing concerning information checklist. "Okay let's go wait for her then."

The boy's face dropped as he looked longingly at his gargoyle drawing. For a moment, Bruce thought he would have to bribe the kid with a lollipop but instead he held up his arms to be carried. "Okay," he said solemnly.

Bruce exhaled in relief as he picked up the boy. After pulling out his grappling gun he turned to the boy. "Where to...." Shit. Had he really forgotten to ask for the kid's name?

The boy in question didn't seem all too bothered by that fact. "Danny," he answered seamlessly. "And it's that way." Bruce aimed his grappling gun and off they went.

----

It took Danny all of two directions before he was out like a light. Bruce sighed, switching directions. Yep, he would truly never hear the end of it.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #winter's tales #this could be a de-aged danny thing #but i imagine it to be more of an early accident thing #gotham sees a tiny baby wondering around her streets alone and decides none of that #she doesn't have to worry now though #since her precious bats will take care of him from now on #meanwhile oracle is cackling as she patches bruce's comms through to everyone else

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kumeko · 5 years

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harley’s rehabilitation

Prompt: Bruce takes in Harley and helps her get a roof over her head for once

Character/Pairing: Harley, Bruce, Cassandra Cain, Selina

A/N: For the @dc-secret-santa for @tjada-sees-the-world-go-round. Sorry for the delay, hope you enjoy! (Harley is so hard to write, I hope I did her justice.). I’m basing this off BTAS for the most part, with a little comic mixed in. I’m in the process of writing up the Diana/Bruce prompt, so hopefully I’ll post that tomorrow.

Summary: It was strange, trying to be normal, trying to be good. Harley wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that, let alone having the Batman of all people help her.

...

i. A favour

“I need a favour,” Selina asked, perched on the edge of the roof. “I know my favours aren’t worth much, but still…”

Batman glanced at her. She clutched her wrist uncertainly, biting her lip when he didn’t say anything. A nervous energy emitted from her and whatever she was asking, it was important to her. He approached her from behind, staring down at the city. Far below them, tiny headlights zoomed down the street. “What is it?”

“Harley, she…” Selina took a deep breath, turning to him. “She wants to change.”

“Does she?” Batman asked. When Selina glared at him, he clarified, “It’s a serious question.”

“Right…she has tried before.” Selina sighed. “She’s serious this time. I know she is.”

And how? He didn’t ask—while he wasn’t around for most of it, he had heard of Selina’s, Ivy’s, and Harley’s time together. ‘The Gotham Sirens’, as the underground jokingly called them. For a while, it had worked. Ivy kept off the streets, Harley kept away from Joker, and Selina…well, whatever she’d gained from it, she’d only smile mysteriously when questioned. Like he’d expect any other answer from her.

And now, it seemed, despite their separation, it had done a world of good by convincing Harley to reform again. Maybe he should have more supervillains live together. Dick was always complaining about how boring reality shows were these days.

“I did it,” Selina pressed, taking his silence for disagreement. “It took time, I slipped back, but I did it. She can do it too.”

I’m having a bad day, Harley had declared once, one the verge of release from the Asylum.

I had them too, he’d answered as he returned her pink dress and perhaps that was all it took. A single bad day. A single good hand. She hadn’t succeeded then but now could be different. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

Grateful, Selina kissed his cheek. “Thanks!” When he gave her a flat stare, she grinned. “Can’t blame a cat for trying.”

ii. A warm bed

Harley Quinn jumped on her bed, testing the bed springs. There was a direct correlation between bounce height and how good a bed was. Science had proven that.

Probably. She was completely bullshitting it but there was a kernel of truth in every lie. Or so she’d heard. Anyways, this bed was in great condition. Nothing sagged. There was no smell. Hell, there were actual springs inside and none of those cheap slinkies either. Batman didn’t mess around when he helped.

And perhaps that was the strangest thing about this—not the ordinary neighbourhood or the smooth walls of her apartment, not the normal neighbours or even the cleanliness of her room. These were things she sort of expected when she decided to go ‘good’. The way she got them, though, was completely surprising. Harley Quinn was getting help from Batman. The Batman. What sort of strings did Catwoman pull?

She’d always thought the pair were close, but maybbeeee…Harley pouted. They could have had girl talk all this time. Ivy was terrible at it, hating people, but Selina? Ahhh, so that was what her sly smile meant when Harley asked about any lovers.

Well, Harley knew now. Next time they’d met, Selina wouldn’t slip out of dishing it out.

She bounced one more time before flipping off the bed. Tumbling through the air, she landed almost perfectly. A 9.2, if she was honest. An Olympic contender. Heading to her window, she peered out at the peaceful town. Her street was dark and empty and quiet, so very quiet, nothing at all like the streets of Gotham. In the far distance, she could make out the silhouette of her old home city.

Better to stay away from it all, Batman had explained after he drove her here. That and Don’t touch that were the only things she’d heard the entire ride.

Crossing her arms, she leaned on her sill. There might be some truth in that. It was too easy to get sucked back into it in Gotham. Mister J would never let her get away, not for long. Harley knew that, she knew that all too well, each time she got out, like quicksand he dragged her back down.

Better here, far from temptations reach. From Mister J and his poison, from Poison Ivy and her smile. He was too far gone to turn back and Ivy…she had rejected the choice entirely.

At one time, Harley would have agreed with that. At one time, she did agree with that. What had she gained from that? Nothing. Nothing at all. All she had was loss. They wouldn’t love her the way she loved them, she could see that now. And if she didn’t have love, what was left for her?

Harley stepped back and closed the blinds.

iii. A resume

“Please, take a seat.” The receptionist gestured at the waiting room.

“Sure.” Harley gave her best Normal™ smile before scanning the fancy-ass glass room. The whole company felt too modern for such a small town. They were here for the tax breaks. The lower wages. And they called her the monster. At least she was honest about it.

Picking a seat, she adjusted her glasses. God, it was strange wearing them again, she’d been wearing contacts for ages. Her reflection this morning was like looking at a ghost. Brushed back hair, glasses, a suit; it was so easy to look domesticated.

To be honest, this freaked her out. Just a little. None of her skills in the past few years could help her here. Well, maybe the bullshitting, she was a grade A bullshitter, but beyond that...Harley sighed as she looked at her clear case folder. Inside was her resume, all neatly typed up.

Batman had installed the latest devices in her temporary house—a laptop, a printer, a phone. He even included one of those fancy-smancy virtual assistants. Oracle, it called itself. Cute name for such as a useful tool. Before Harley could even consider destroying her computer, Oracle had found a template, hooked up her printer, and even found several sites to help write it up.

“Harleen Quinzel?” The receptionist called out and Harley stood up quickly.

“Here!”

iv. A rejection

“Were you raised in a barn?” Harley asked as she closed her door behind her. On the other end of the room, directly across from her, the Batman perched on the edge of her couch. Her non-ratty, non-smelly, barely-stained couch.

Maybe she should serve him tea. And then take a photo of the great Batman, holding a tiny teacup, his pinky out. And send it to Selina, just to get a rise out of her.

When he didn’t say anything, she added, “Jeez, would it kill you to lighten up?”

“Probably not,” he answered, and was that a joke? A dry, bad one, but a joke nonetheless? Before she could follow up, he asked, “How is it?”

“Let’s see, it’s been…a month?” Harley counted with her fingers, double checking. “A month. I made no moolah. I can’t take care of my babies like that.”

“You are not taking care of those hyenas even if you made money.” Batman corrected and she pouted.

“They’re my babies!”

“Noted. I’ll cover your bills until you make enough.” Was he rich? Or did the JLA have some sort of ‘reform trust fund’? “How was job hunting?”

“Gee, I wonder what responses you’d expect an ex-super criminal to get?” Harley asked, rolling her eyes as she laid down on the carpet. Stretching her arms above her, she waved her latest round of rejection letters. “I’m actually impressed by how many excuses I’ve heard—and I thought I was a great liar.”

He took the letters without warning, flipping through them quickly.

Surprised, she stared at him. “Ya know, reading someone’s letters a crime. I could get you thrown in jail.”

His lips curved up, slightly, almost a laugh. If there was one thing Harley could take pride in, it was this: Batman had laughed at her jokes, not Mister J’s. Getting up, he headed to her window. “I’ll see what I can do. This is good effort so far.”

And with that, he launched himself out of his window, without a bye or a see you later. Par the course. Did even his friends at the Justice League have to deal with this?

“Good effort,” she muttered getting up. The thing people said to losers to make them feel better. Effort. When there was nothing else to compliment.

Effort. She really shouldn’t like that word as much as she did.

v. A night

Harley barely reacted when another presence landed on the roof next to her. Glancing to her side, she examined a girl dressed in black. There were obvious stitch marks in her batgirl outfit, making her look like a ragged doll. “Are you all raised in barns?” Looking over her shoulder, she added, “No Nightwing or Robin this time?”

“No.” Batgirl, or at least someone that looked like a Batgirl, shook her head, her accent thick and heavy. She paused before adding, “No to both questions.”

Gah. Another serious one. At least Nightwing would play along sometimes. She leaned back on the rooftop, staring up at the night sky. “Say, do you have to be sneaky when you apply?”

“Apply?” Batgirl asked, confused.

“Apply to be a night terror.” When all she got was another blank look, she sighed and spoke plainly. “A ‘Batgirl’.”

“No, but it helps.” Batgirl’s fingers automatically moved as she spoke, signing each word. Deaf? Mute? For someone else? “Why are you dressed like that?”

“It makes great PJs.” Harley tugged at the edges of her villain costume, rubbing the sleeve against her cheek. “Do you know how much it cost to make this? I can’t just let it go to waste!”

“I see,” she answered in a tone that clearly saw nothing.

“I just like wearing it sometimes.” Harley shrugged. “Don’t you just do things cause you like ‘em?”

Batgirl seemed to consider this for a few minutes before slowly nodding. “Recently, yes. Training.”

“Training? Blech!” Harley grimaced. Boring, utterly boring. How was Batman raising them? Maybe Nightwing was a fluke? The rest of this batfamily seemed more serious by the generation. Still, they made the perfect straight man, if only she could get them into a comedy club with her.

After a few minutes, Batgirl slowly said, “You can do this.”

“Huh?” Harley pointed at herself. “You talking to me?”

“There’s no one else here.” Batgirl cocked her head, double checking her surroundings. With a shrug, she turned back to Harley. “I was bad too, once.”

“Oh?” Maybe the JLA really did have a reform trust fund. Though, if they expected her to join without some pay, they had another thing coming.

“Yes.” Batgirl nodded again. “I was evil too. You can change.”

It was strangely comforting.

vi. Another attempt

“Alright.” Harley counted the coins in her bowl. $43.85 bucks. Not enough for rent, perhaps, but if she combined it with her waitress job, it could cover food at least. As nice as it was to have the goody two-shoes cover her bills, she need the independence. And less surveillance.

“You’re funny!” A little girl shouted as she dropped another quarter into the bowl. $44.10 now. The girl skipped back to her mother, waving as she left.

Honestly, busking wasn’t a bad gig at all. Maybe it didn’t pay as much as crime but it was almost as fun. Dressed as a clown, she performed acrobatic tricks in front of schools and train stations. Instead of screams, she got applause and cheers. And people said that you couldn’t transfer criminal skills.

“Take that, Orange,” Harley muttered as she packed up. “‘Our company thinks your skills are not applicable to this position.’, my foot.”

“It’s good to see you’re productive.”

Harley stilled at the deep voice behind her. Peeking over her shoulders, she rubbed her eyes as she spotted the Batman. “Wait, are you even allowed to come out at day? Do you even exist in the day?”

He didn’t dignify her questions with a response, instead holding out a letter. “For you?”

“You a mailman now? And I thought I was down on my luck.” Taking it, she looked at the front and almost dropped it. “Bruce Wayne? What does he—”

When she looked up, he was already gone. Puffing her cheeks, she shouted, “Why do you have worse manners than a villain!”

vii. A job

“Why’re you’re still visiting me?” Harley asked when she opened her door only to find Batman once again perched on her couch. Maybe she should call him Birdman. “Bored?”

“Think of it as post-care.” Another dry joke. He really did have a sense of humour, it was just hard to find.

She dropped her bag on the floor and removed her coat. Despite the commute from the small town to her office, she’d kept the temporary apartment. Few tech, nice place, and best of all, empty roofs for her to leap around without worrying about some do-gooder or villain noticing. “So?”

“Like the job?” he asked.

“Does it matter?” When he stared at her, she relented. “Fiinnee. It’s good enough. I mean, no one really wants to be a psychiatrist to make ads, but whatever.” Rubbing her chin, she added, “Though, maybe I should have just kidnapped Bruce Wayne when he interviewed me. He’s rich, a single ransom and I’m living the high life.”

“High life in jail, perhaps,” Batman added dryly.

She wasn’t sure if he meant it as a joke or a threat. Probably the latter. It was hard to tell with this guy. Brushing it off, she slowly stalked forward to him. “So, I was wondering…”

“No.” Point blank, without room for argument.

Harley bristled. “Hey! I didn’t even ask yet!”

Batman gave her a blank stare. “Hyenas are not pets.”

“They were my pets,” Harley mumbled, glowering at him. “My babies. I bet they miss me.” When he didn’t answer, she crowed, “I knew it! They do miss mama!”

“…I’ll consider visitation rights,” he muttered.

A start, perhaps. But Batman didn’t know exactly how persistent she was. Within the week, she’d have her babies.

#dc comics #batman #harley quinn #btas #cassandra cain #selina #secret santa #fanfic

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diyunho · 4 years

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The Joker x Reader - “Ghost Driver” Part 2

When The Joker says you’re his, it means you’re essential to him because he needs your services for his own gain; it literally has zero affectionate connotations. Turbo is The King’s Ghost Driver and although she’s a legend, her life is far from perfect.

Part 1

Four Days Afterwards, 7:47pm

“Good evening, madam. I am tonight’s entertainment,” Frost blurs out as soon as you open the door and instantly regrets his pun. “Sorry, that was stupid to say,” he apologizes.

The reason why you look puzzled is not his joke, but another motive: you never saw Jonny wearing anything else besides a suit or military gear; the fact that he’s standing in front of you wearing a pair of shorts and a t-shirt is quite intriguing.

“Hi,” you move aside so he can come in.

“Did I wake you up?”

“I fell asleep watching a movie,” Y/N smiles at his comfortable attire. “No big deal. Did Mister Joker send you?” the subtle question indicates you want to find out the reason for his visit.

“No... I was just thinking… maybe we could… and it’s entirely up to you, no pressure… maybe you would want to go and watch the fireworks with me. I have food and sleeping bags, plus an ice chest with drinks in my truck.”

You seem confused.

“Mmmm, you know what? Forget about it. That was completely idiotic to suggest,” Frost realizes that asking a freshly divorced woman to get out of the house after she was kidnapped and starved into her ex’s basement only four days ago it’s not the most brilliant idea he ever had.

“You had me at food and fireworks,” you wink at his insecurity. “The drinks sealed the deal. I’m confused on one detail: do I have to change or can I come in my PJ’s?”

“PJ’s are perfect.”

“Awesome!” you grab the keys from the coffee table. “Where exactly are we heading?”

“Fire Creek Hill, it’s one of the best spots to enjoy the view,” Jonny replies.

“Isn’t that closed to the general public?” Y/N inquires and his logic makes you laugh while exchanging your socks for flip-flops.

“I doubt we’re considered the general public. I had to pull some strings though,” he admits, overjoyed you actually agreed to accompany him.

Not that he shows it in any other way besides the invitation he barely mustered the courage to extend towards The Joker’s Ghost Driver.

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

9:03pm

“Oh, it’s starting!” you excitedly nibble on your Alfredo pasta.

The first fireworks bloom in the distance and Frost opens the cooler, pointing out the goodies he salvaged from the liquor store.

“Pick your poison: we have a bottle of premixed margarita, wine, whiskey, tequila and…,” he fumbles around,”…try to contain yourself: water!”

“You definitely bought some of my favorites , including the food. How did you guess?” the bubbly Y/N smiles.

“I pay attention,” Jonny mentions. “So what’s gonna be?”

“Margarita please,” you hold the plastic cup and can’t help snickering as he pours the liquid.

“What?” he suspiciously bites on his cheek.

“Nothing really… I was imagining you without the beard,” you decide not to keep it a secret.

“Damn!” Frost snorts. “I had it for years; didn’t consider shaving because our employer would freak out. Stop giggling, it’s not funny! He totally would!” Jonny elbows you.

“I bet you have a baby face underneath all that facial hair; if you shave I can promise a new nickname will arise: Baby- Face Frost.”

“Shut up!” he chuckles at your quirky proposal. “Yet I can’t deny it has a certain ring to it.”

“See what I mean? It might work!... Oh my God, that’s a huge one!” you gasp, distracted by the sparkling night sky. “What are they celebrating? 150 years since this piece of crap town was founded?”

“Apparently,” Jonny sighs and watches Y/N bundle up in the sleeping bag.

“Thank you for the feast,” your tone changes to a serious one. “I didn’t have this much fun in the back of a truck in a long time. Go ahead, laugh!” you pout at his reaction. “I’m aware how it sounds like; I didn’t mean it that way!!!”

“Still funny as hell!” Jonny is getting a kick out of the conversation.

“Psst! Hey, Casanova!” The Joker’s mop of green hair pop up from behind the car’s high railing.

“Mister Joker!” you get startled by his unexpected presence.

“Boss, what are you doing here?” Frost utters in disbelief.

“Why aren’t you answering your phone, huh?” J ignores his henchman’s inquiry.

“It’s in the glove compartment, sir. I’m enjoying the…”

“Pardon me for interrupting your date,” The King of Gotham huffs.

“We’re not on a date,” the attempted explanation gets cut short.

“Sell it to whoever wants to buy it,” The Joker growls at Jonny’s words. “I had to follow the signal from your cell and trace your location; what a marvelous bonus to find my Turbo also!”

The eerie grin makes you finally speak up:

“Do you need help with anything Mister J?”

“Do I?” he plays dumb. “Probably.”

Why does he have to ruin the night? Frost reflects, annoyed.

Nobody knows, but if he could spend ages in your company, he believes it would be an eternity well spent.

And The Joker had to ruin it.

Goddammit!

“Can you patch me up?” J takes of his jacket, revealing a blood stained shirt.

“What happened?” you and Jonny jump off the vehicle.

“I got myself in a little bit of a situation,” he grumbles. “It’s a clean wound; the bullet came out on the other side.”

“We should take you to the doctor, boos; you need stitches!”

“Thanks for your concern, Doctor Frost,” The Joker sassily remarks. “I’ll go in the morning. I have more important matters to take care of tonight.”

You peel off his garment and assess the damage; he can’t hold it in:

“I bet you wanted to do this after I texted you my nudes, huh?”

You have to admit he caught you by surprise with his statement and the best solution in this situation is to cooperate:

“Been dreaming about it quite often.”

“Ha! I knew it!” The Clown cracks up. “Were you dreaming about it during your date?” he teases more.

“We’re not on a date,” you frown at the blood gushing from his wound.

“Interesting,” J expands on the subject. “At least you two have one thing in common: you’re both delusional.”

Frost rolls his eyes without J noticing and you signal him:

“Can I please get the whiskey? I need to disinfect this.”

“You have whiskey on your date?! Excuse me, non-date,” his majesty’s obnoxious temper emerges again.

You don’t engage for the moment, just open the bottle that Jonny gave you and splash a generous amount on the laceration.

“Jesus Christ!!!” The King shouts. “Be gentle woman, I’m fragile!!!”

“Sorry Mister J,” you mutter and Frost is certainly approving your tiny revenge scheme. “Can you please turn on the lights on your car? It’s getting dark and I can’t see what I’m doing,” you address The Joker’s sidekick. “Do you have a first aid kit in your vehicle Mister J?” you gesture towards his SUV parked a few feet away.

“I should,” a demented smirk flourished on his lips. “In the trunk!”

“Take a seat in the grass Mister J; I’ll go get it,” you urge the patient.

“Boss, are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the doctor?” Frost offers and instead of obliging your request, J pursues your steps because he doesn’t want to miss Turbo’s reaction.

“It’s fine, I’ll survive until morning time.”

You lift the trunk and gasp, stunned: your stellar ex-husband is tied up in there, duct tape over his mouth, clearly enjoying the repercussions of a confrontation due to bruises you can discern at a first glance.

“Oops, forgot about him,” The Clown yawns, bored.

Adam starts wiggling and mumbling whilst you can’t react.

“The fucker shot me!” your employer hisses. “Had the nerve to try killing me when he’s the one sleeping with MY girlfriend!”

“What’s the plan, sir?” Jonny intervenes, worried at your stunned attitude.

“The plan is simple: since Y/N is intimately acquainted with our guest, I’m willing to work out a deal. I don’t wanna to be accused of not listening to my associates.”

Adam keeps struggling and you finally reach and remove the duct tape.

“Honey, honey please!” he immediately rambles on, panicked. “You know I was joking about your weight, right? You don’t have to lose a few pounds! I admit locking you up in the basement was a huge mistake, ok? OK…? I’m sorry! I swear I’ll never cheat on you in the future. We can work things out, can’t we?” a glimmer of hope alleviates the somber perspective of his imminent demise once you begin searching his pockets.

He has the false impression you’ll untie him when in the matter of fact you are hunting down for his house keys so you can reclaim all the items you bribed him with when he signed the divorce papers.

Bingo! Treasure attained.

“So do you know him or not?” The Joker taps his fingers on the cold metal of his gun.

You take a deep breath, place the duct tape on Adam’s lips and sneer:

“I never saw this asshole in my life!”

“The lady has spoken!” J slams the trunk, unnerved. “Frost, you can go home; Y/N will take me to the warehouse on 8th street: she can borrow a car from there and split. I’ll send someone in the morning to bring it back.”

“Boss, we can leave your SUV here and I can drive you both…”

“DID I STUTTER?” The Clown growls, unhappy with Jonny’s shenanigans.

“No sir.”

“Mister J,” you distract his menacing temper. “Do you want me to bandage your injury now?”

“Nah, you can do it at the warehouse.”

More fireworks illuminate the skies and none in the small group is watching them anymore: the show is over for everyone involved.

You wave at Frost and hop in The Joker’s car as he positions himself in the passenger’s seat; you can tell something is off, besides the obvious of course.

If you’d have to speculate, you would say that his behavior is of a man who wasn’t hurt just physically, but on a different level he doesn’t understand yet: J went after your ex-husband alone when he doesn’t take unnecessary risks; enough proof to indicate he loved Ella and sought revenge for her betrayal without any of his team’s help.

You wonder what he did to the woman: did he kill her? Or worse?... You won’t dig to find out regardless.

The truth is you are The Joker’s Turbo and the statement works in reverse too: he is your Joker who undeniably needs cheering.

And you always deliver. That’s why you’re his.

That’s why you appreciate he made an effort to compromise on Adam’s predicament even if he didn’t mean it.

You steadily drive on the trail until you arrive to the main road, then suddenly accelerate with a specific purpose in mind. You take a sharp turn on Morrison Avenue, already at 100 miles per hour.

“What are you doing?” J bitterly enunciates.

“Why am I your Ghost Driver Mister Joker?” you reply with a question.

“Nobody can catch up with you.”

“Yup, the car to catch up with me hasn’t been assembled. Here they are, Gotham’s finest!” Y/N boasts at the lights glistening behind. “They always have a nightly patrol on Morrison Avenue ready to catch law un-abiding citizens,” you exclaim and J’s smirk widens at your proposition. “What do you say we make them work for their donuts, hm?”

“That’s my girl!” The King gives his blessing while Turbo speeds up the street in a frenzy.

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

11:58 pm

You barely returned to you apartment after the random factors which cut your rendezvous short when the cell chimes: a message from Frost.

“Did you make it home safe?”

“Yes,” you text.

“I’ve been busy. Wait, I’ll send you a picture.”

Downloading picture…

“Holy… shit!!!!!” you yell at your phone because the image depicts a portrait of a freshly shaved Jonny Frost.

“Do you like it?” the sentence appears on the screen concomitant with a knock at the main entrance.

“Who is it?” you drag your feet on the carpet.

“Me.”

As soon as you are standing in front of him, Frost hides his nervousness the best way he can; and he’s not a nervous individual per se.

“I thought you might want to take a closer look…,” he enters the hallway and you slowly lock the door behind him.

You don’t say anything, just touch his face and he pecks your wrist, confessing a secret he kept bottled up for years:

“Do you know I’ve been in love with you from the first second I saw you?”

Y/N doesn’t have to calculate in order to whisper:

“That’s a long time.”

“What’s the verdict?...“ Jonny insists. “You approve the change?”

“Yes,” you kiss him and he holds you tighter, thinking that if he could spend ages in your arms, it would be an eternity well spent.