Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Reader (Y/N Y/L/N)
Pairing: Jensen x Reader
Summary: Jensen forgets an important day for the Reader and he tries to come up with a good way of apologizing.
Word Count: 2k-ish
Author’s Note: Heyy guys! This is my entry for @buckysmetallicstump‘s Disney Quote Challenge. My quote is bolded! I hope you guys like this! I’m still trying to get back into the groove of writing. I’m sorry if this isn’t up to par. *hides face* feedback is always welcomed!!
Eleven missed calls.
I knew I had screwed up when her phone went straight to voicemail after the third ring. She was avoiding my calls, that much I knew. I tried racking my brain, coming up blank with reasons for the cold shoulder she was giving me.
A/N: alrighty here we go. This is the first fic where I feel like the warnings were rally nescessary. I didn’t really proof read this so I hope its alright.It really sucks because I broke my flashdrive again (becuase I have the worst luck). Please send in some asks, suggestions, messages and comments.
Rating: Mature (because I am not sure)
Pairings: Thomas Jefferson x reader, reader x abusive!boyfriend
Warnings: violence, abuse, abusive relationship, sad topics, a bit depressing, cheating (if you like squint)
How often do you feel absolutely helpless? I don’t mean like
‘Oh I don’t know what to do?’, I mean like completely trembling and all your
emotions and mixing together so much so that you have no idea how to react,
feel, or think.
That’s how I felt when I looked at Y/N and noticed she had a
black eye and split lip. She looked like she had been crying when she walked
into the coffee shop. When she sat down she gave me a slight smile and began
rambling about how clumsy she was. I knew it was a lie. I didn’t care about her
fake story. I immediately cut her off by standing up.
“Stop Y/N, just stop. Please, sweet heart,” I told her as I
grabbed her hand and pulled her out into the street to hail a cab. I looked at
her and noticed the tears springing to her eyes again and I sighed. I yanked
her hand and pulled her into my arms. She tensed and gripped my magenta jacket
before openly sobbing into my arms. I felt my own tears spring into my eyes but
held back remembering that this wasn’t about how I felt. The cab pulled up to
the side of the street and I gently guided her into the back seat. I followed
in immediately before wrapping my arms around her again as I told the guy my
It was really warm in the cab and safe in Thomas’s arms as I
felt us begin to move. I knew he was upset by the way his arms with taught
around me in a secure embrace. Ryan had yelled at me again last night and I
tried to avoid the confrontation as much as possible. But when Ryan wanted to
fight there was no way to could get out of it. The tears finally stop streaming
down my face and let my grip on Thomas’s jacket loosen. I turned my head to the
side and rested gently on his chest as I focused on taking deep breathes. I
looked out the front window and smiled as I watched the tall buildings blur
past. I loved New York City, it was really busy and frantic just like myself. I
frowned as I couldn’t help but notice the cloudy and windy weather matched my
“I hope it rains,” I heard Thomas say next to me.
“Why? Isn’t it a bit depressing when the weather is like
this?,” I question my face twisting into a scowl as I gripped his jacket again
and wiggle into his side pushing my face back into his chest. I felt his hand
gently move and rest on the small of my back while the other arm stayed up
around my shoulders.
“Water is life. Therefore, rain kind of symbolizes new birth
doesn’t it? Not to mention I love thunder. I know a lot of people hate it or
are scared of it but the sound is so ethereal.” He said and I glanced up to
notice his eyes staring out the window. The cloudy weather didn’t allow a lot
of light through but the soft almost gray light seemed to outline his profile
and make his look a lot older. He turned and looked down at me. He gently took
his hand from the small of my back and brought it to my cheek. I felt his thumb
gently stroke where the bruise rested right under my eye. “You put ice on it
last night right darling?” he asked with concern shining in his eyes and his
southern drawl coming out in full force. I gently nodded and looked down with
shame etched on my features. I hated worrying him.
“We’re here.” The guy said from the front. Thomas
temporarily unwrapped his arms and leaned forward, pulling out his wallet
before handing over the fare. He opened the door and stepped out, making sure
to grab my hand and pull with slightly more force than necessary. He was always
demanding. I shook as the forceful wind made me stumble slightly and shiver.
Thomas look back and frowned before stepping forward and wrapping his arms
around me, blocking the wind and ushering me into the apartment complex. He got
to his door and still refused to let me go and opened the door one handed. Once
in the apartment he ordered me to the coach and began walking to the different
rooms and collecting items with purpose.
I took the time to look around the apartment. I had been
here multiple times, almost as much as my own house actually. I recalled
walking in here the first time and being amazed at how warm and comfy it was. I
had met him at his job where he worked as a consultant for a major political
firm in the city. I had been asked to make a flower delivery for my part time
job. I had strolled in with the cart of flowers and began setting them out as
instructed when a man, namely Thomas, had asked if you needed any help
considering his next conference didn’t start for another hour. I smiled and
agreed. He began talking as her worked having no problem starting and
maintaining a conversation with me. Anyone else in that position might have
found him pushy but I just found him funny and confident. We had agreed to meet
each other for coffee after that. I had developed a great friendship with him
when he started inviting me over to hang out. I had developed a high opinion of
him. I expected flat sofas and modern décor with monochrome for his apartment
style but I was dead wrong.
I looked around the room as I threaded my hand into the red
fur pillows that were on the plush black leather coach and looked to my feet
and the plush purple carpet beneath them. Almost the entire apartment was
paneled in a wood and Thomas has made sure that the mantel on which the TV sat
was a cobble stone. It was extremely warm and homely with pictures of Thomas’s
family and friends in Virginia hanging in the wall. I had asked him about his
styling choices and he had responded with the fact that he wanted it to feel
like home. I leaned back into the coach letting out a little huff as my back
hit the coach. I looked over the lamp on the table and smiled. I had knocked
over the previous lamp one time while dancing with Thomas and he had replaced
it with a loud orange skinny lamp and purple lamp shade. It was so ugly but
Thomas had fawned over the lamp and told me very sternly that if I broke it he
would never allow me back in his apartment.
“Go change in the bathroom. I want you to be comfortable
darling.” I heard Thomas say sternly. I was snapped out of my revere and there
was Thomas standing in front of me and holding out a pair of his boxers and a
sweat shirt. He shook the clothes in front of me when I didn’t move. I finally
grabbed them and walked into the bathroom to change. I wasn’t sure about taking
off my turtle neck. I shook as I pulled it over my head and looked into the
mirror only to gasp when I noticed the ring of bruises from Ryan’s hands around
my neck had darkened in color. I had been so panicked at the time it didn’t
even hurt. I trailed my hands down my sides and let out a sigh. Thomas would
see them and get upset. I felt better here though. I felt safer. Last night
after Ryan screamed and hit in his drunken state he had locked the bedroom door
and I just continued to cower in the corner and eventually got up to get ice
and nurse my wounds. I hadn’t even changed my clothes this morning because Ryan
was still locked in the bedroom. Tears sprung to my eye but I quickly got
control of them and finished changing before summoning the courage to walk out
into the family room again.
“MY GOD.” Thomas shouted and I looked up from my feet and
flinched at his shocked expression.
“MY GOD.” I shouted in shocked at the sight before me. Y/N
had changed from her turtle neck and dark bruises surrounded her throat. I
notice her flinch and immediately tried to restrain the anger that was
surfacing. I would fucking kill her boyfriend. When I found out she had a
boyfriend before I met her I had stopped making advances despite my feelings. I
remember thinking that he must have been one hell of a man because he had the
best girl in New York City. Now I knew that she deserved so much better. She
deserved not to be hurt like this. I motioned for her to sit down next to me.
She quietly walked over and sat up straight. It broke my heart to see her this
tense around me.
“Your staying here.” I said with a neutral voice trying not
to get emotional and show that I was serious. Her head snapped up and her eyes
“What?” she questioned slightly shaking.
“I am not letting you go back and be hurt by him. You’re
moving in to the guest room and you’re going to be happy because so help me god
if I ever have to see you like this again I might commit murder.” I said my
voice straining towards the end. Her eyes widened but soon they watered and her
lip quivered as she shook her head in acceptance. I immediately turned to jelly
from the immense relief overcoming me and grabbed her arm to pull her to me. I
laid back and she came with me having her head rest on my chest.
“Only because I love you.” She whispered as I reached for
the remote. I tensed for a split second before looking over at her with wide
eyes. She seemed nervous but too exhausted to care as she gave me a sheepish
smile and looked at me with her eyes lazily half lidded. I immediately acted on
instinct and grabbed her arm hoisting her up slightly higher and firmly pressed
my lips against hers. She responded and threaded her hands into my hair. We
pulled back with a huff and stared at each other minute before I push her head
into the juncture between my neck and shoulder. I cradled her with a arm around
her waist and the other hand stroking her hair. I took a deep breath.
“Rest darling. I love you too but you are exhausted and you
are going to have a hard day tomorrow too with getting your stuff and telling
him.” I felt her shake and immediately gripped her tighter. “But I will be
there with you baby I promise nothing will hurt you alright?” She relaxed back
into my arm and gave a tiny nod into my neck.
“I won’t need to be scared if you’re there.” I heard her
whisper, almost to herself. I felt a small amount of pride fill me at her
“I am going to put on a movie and cook some food later
“It doesn’t just sound perfect. I intend to make sure it is
She glanced at me with a smile on her face and I no longer
Summary: Logan cares for Charles in the silo. Did I already write this setting? Too bad, have another one. I don’t even know if it’s heartbreaking or just worn out anymore.
WARNING: a rather graphic quote from x-men is used, regarding Auschwitz. It’s marked with a (5), and is that entire paragraph. It can be skipped
Logan walked into the fallen silo and slammed the door closed, making sure Charles wouldn’t be startled by his sudden appearance. It had taken him several months to realize the professor wasn’t always home anymore, and the times when he wasn’t were coming more and more frequently. Especially as Logan found the necessary medicines harder and harder to come by. It wasn’t that Chuck was becoming senile. He would just lose himself in his powers more often.
It hadn’t been so bad when Magneto had been around to help draw out the younger man. Logan had always admired Erik for his ability to remind Charles of just who and where he was. But the first of the seizures had taken that option out of the equation rather soundly.
Muggle College AU: “You’re drunk and walked into the wrong apartment and fell asleep on my couch oh god you’re going to be so confused in the morning.”
In the door to the kitchen stood
a willowy girl with ginger hair and green eyes. She was wearing an old t-shirt
and leggings—both too small to be worn as anything other than pyjamas. On the
long, fabric couch that took up most of the kitchen lay a lanky boy with a bird’s
nest of black hair and square glasses that were pressed awkwardly against the
cushion. The girl was Lily Evans, one of the students who shared the flat. The
boy was of as yet undetermined identity.
Lily wasn’t entirely sure how
the boy had managed to get into her flat, but the fact remained that he had
managed somehow because he was passed out and snoring over the hideous cushions
that Marlene’s mother had bought as an Easter gift.
The Joker’s unexpected death left you behind with a young daughter to raise and unbearable pain. Things have never been easy but now that he’s gone you miss him so badly it hurts. And you have a lifetime to endure without The King of Gotham.
“What…took you…so long? I almost died
waiting…literally…” J takes deep breaths, trying to focus on you. He’s lying in
a pool of blood, still holding the cell to his chest.
You rush by his side and kneel, so
shocked you can’t make a sound. You lift his head in your lap, wiping a few red
drops splattered on his pale cheeks.
“Those bastards…got me…” he manages
to point towards the two dead bodies a few feet away in the underground parking.
“But I got… them too,” The Joker pants, making an effort to continue. “I’m
glad…you answered…the phone…” and he groans in pain; it’s so hard for him to
speak at this point. “If…if there’s something…you wanna tell me…you should
hurry…” he faintly smiles and your mind is completely blank. You finally start
bawling, reality suddenly hitting with its cruel outcome.
“I love you,” J hears and it seems so
“I…I know that…What else?” He starts
coughing, almost choking in his own blood.
“What am I supposed to tell Emma,
hm?” you bring your face close to his, so desperate and hopeless you can’t stop
“Tell her…that…” and The Joker
really strains to finish but can’t. “Tell… … …her…” His eyelids slowly close,
the world fading away.
“J…? J…?” you gently caress his hand
even if it’s too late: you know he’s gone. “What am I supposed to tell Emma?…
What am I supposed to tell her?…”
As soon as you step out of the
elevator into the penthouse, your three years old daughter runs towards you,
“Mommy!” and she hugs your legs,
giggling. “Whe’s daddy?” Emma glances behind you, pouting. You don’t even pick
her up, not realizing that’s what she wants. Frost gave you his jacket to cover
your clothes soaked with blood.
“Up, mommy, up!” she pulls on your
jeans, whimpering when you ignore her and walk away.
“Whe’s daddy?” your child insists,
hoping he will be the one to play with her.
“Daddy will never come home again,”
you turn towards her for a few moments, feeling the unbearable pain crushing
“Com’ere, kid,” Frost sighs, lifting
the little girl in his arms, her pigtails flying in the air.“You want chocolate
cake?” he asks, distracting Emma and she nods a yes, forgetting she was about
“Cake?” the squeaky tone excitedly
“Yes, kiddo, your favorite.”
“Yaaayy!!!” she bounces in his strong
hold, happy to get a sweet treat. You barely drag your feet to the nearest
bathroom downstairs, locking the door and start to undress, your body
convulsing under the pressure building up inside.
Jonny is very quick to hurry out of
the penthouse so the child won’t have to hear the screams that will soon echo
in the stillness.
“Wanna see daddy?”
“U-hum,” Emma impatiently reaches her
hands for you and she gets picked up right away.
The silver casket is opened and she
peeks at her dead father.
“Daddy?” she leans over and strokes
his forehead, not understanding why he’s not moving. “Daddy, wake up,” and his
daughter kisses his cheeks, snickering; she thinks The Joker is pretending and
will tickle her for sure in just a few seconds.
“Daddy can’t wake up, sweetie,” you
bite on your lower lip as hard as you can to stop the tears.
“Why?” she sulks, rubbing her blue
eyes, then pets his hair, sensing something is not quite right but she’s too
young to comprehend the awfulness of what is happening.
“He has to go far away and we won’t
see him after today, ok?” you try to explain in the best way possible, your
voice breaking towards the end of the sentence.
“Nooo,” she whimpers, clinging at
your black dress.
You sniffle and Emma kisses his
You lift your shoulders up, incapable
of mustering a reply. She puckers her lips and blows warm air on his neck a few
times, then the little girl smiles once more, waiting for him to say something.
“Daaaddy…wake up…” she gets
disappointed again since J is not reacting. The kid taps his hand, not giving
Your daughter notices you’re crying
and she frowns, wincing when you squeeze her in your embrace.
“I want my daaaaddy,” Emma places her
arms around your neck, her mother’s behavior making her uneasy yet you can’t
control the raging emotions anymore.
“Your dad is gone,” you whisper in
her ear, sobbing. “It’s only us the girls now.”
“Is this seat taken?” someone wants
to know while you are immersed in your book, waiting for the meeting to begin.
“Yes!” you almost shout since you
always want to be alone and not socialize with the others.
“Perfect!” the person grumbles and
takes a seat by you, disregarding the answer.
“Do you mind?!” you get pissed,
slamming the pages shut.
“No, I don’t mind,” the arrogance
You want to tell the man to fuck off
or something but as your eyes meet his, that can’t be done: it’s The Joker. You
kind of had a one night stand, then another one, then another one, then a few
more, then…nothing in the last two weeks.
“I can seat wherever I want, Y/N, I
don’t need permission.”
Avoiding confrontation with J is
tough, almost impossible. He pretends to brush an imaginary crumb off his green
suit, resting his fingers on the top of the cane matching his outfit.
“You’re all dolled up; going on a
date or something?” The King of Gotham teases because he loves to annoy you: he
calls it “his hobby”.
“In the matter of fact I am after
this boring crap,” and it’s actually the truth.
“Pretty popular, huh?” he grins, chuckling.
“Yeap, always,” the sassiness bothers
him and J growls.
“In your dreams, Y/N, you’re not that
special,” the malicious smirk on his face irritates you.
“Well then, thank God you don’t have
to go on a date with me.”
“Indeed,” he snarls, crossing his
legs. ”You get on my nerves; I couldn’t stand you even if you pay me.”
“I have better things to spend my
money on, Mister J. You’re just jealous.”
He glares in your direction, burning
holes through you.
“Jealous?! Me?! I bet the guy’s a
loser anyway,” he starts laughing and you don’t find it amusing. If you
continue the conversation he won’t shut up so you swallow your pride and let
him have the last word.
** “Is this seat taken?” you hear his
voice and panic.
“Yes!!” you look up to see him as
he’s positioning himself right by you.
“Excellent. So the guy’s not here
yet?” The Joker pries in your personal life, wanting to hear the scoop.
“No, not yet, so I would appreciate
if you would just leave. Are you following me around?!” you bluntly demand to
“Ha! That’s a good one, Y/N. Like I
don’t have better things to do with my precious time. I actually have a date too,
not that I need to inform you. I am being a gentleman here because I saw you
all alone at the table and I thought you should know: your date is not coming.”
“Wha…? How do you know he’s not
coming?” you suspiciously squint your eyes.
“I told him not to show up or I’m
gonna kill him. It worked, didn’t even fight it. Told you you’re not that
special,” J winks, satisfied with his victory. He gets up and steps away,
leaving you behind dumbfounded.
You try to call your guy and after a
couple of rings, the message makes you cringe: “This number is no longer is
Are you kidding me?! you angrily yell at your cell,
concluding things will not happen so you abandon your table on the terrace,
making your way out of the restaurant when you see him: J with a woman, getting
reading to have dinner.
You stomp towards them, antagonized.
“Is this seat taken?” you touch one
of the two extra chairs, yanking it away.
“Yes,” the woman stares you down,
confused. “We are expecting company.”
“Cool !” and you drop on it,
nonchalantly grabbing an extra menu and reading through it.
J ignores you, continuing to gaze at
“Who is this, Mister J?” she frets,
appalled somebody has the audacity to interrupt them.
“The Black Plague,” he snarls, sucking
on his silver teeth, calm and composed. His
favorite nickname for you.
“Can you tell her to leave, please?”
“It’s a free country. If you want her
to leave, tell her yourself.”
The woman is very confused and you
“So what are we having?”
“Lamb,” The Joker shortly responds,
closing his menu.
“I’ll have the same,” you decide.
“What do you want?” you address the woman and she is lost.
“Mister J, what’s going on? I thought we’re on a date.”
“It’s very awkward,” she complains.
“I love awkward,” you serenely smile,
apparently without a care in the universe.
“I don’t!” the woman snaps and J
“If you don’t like it, disappear!”
Her mouth opens and before she
protests, you enunciate with an indifferent tone:
“Why?” he debates on the question,
“Why what?” you continue, scratching
“Why are you telling me? You need a
father for your kid?”
“Nope, I thought you would want to
know,” and the woman feels out of place since her presence is totally
disregarded by both parties. “You want a paternity test?”
“Naahh, I will spare you the
embarrassment of everyone finding out I’m
not the dad.”
“More like you want to spare yourself the embarrassment of finding out you are the dad after creating such a
fuss over it,” your confident comeback makes the woman abandon her seat and The
Joker doesn’t acknowledge the move.
“This is ridiculous! We are on a
date! I can’t…”
“Then get lost!” he rolls his eyes.
“Or stay! Your choice, allright?!”
“Daaaadyyyyy,” you hear Emma’s mouse
voice and open your eyes, still tired as hell. You fell asleep inside the
walk-in closet again: it’s been your refuge and sanctuary lately, the only
space that keeps the demons at bay. Surrounded by his clothes and everything he
left behind, you don’t come out of the sacred hideout for hours.
“Daadddyyyy,” your daughter little
feet run up and down the stairs: she’s searching for her father again. The poor
child believes J is playing hide-and-seek with her, that’s why he’s not around.
Sometimes you join the quest, finding your troubled mind actually hoping he
would just show up out of nowhere and brag about how amazingly diligent he is
since his girls couldn’t find him. An idiot’s hope, fueled by your daughter’s
innocence and you own sorrow…
“Y/N,” Frost knocks at the door, “I
brought food, come and eat.”
You lick your dry lips, remembering
you didn’t even drink water today.
“I’m not hungry,” you yawn, adjusting
your body on the air mattress and turning on the laptop.
“You have to eat; Emma’s hungry, come
on,” he insists and you obey, not in the mood for anything.
You roll off your current bed,
cracking your stiff bones as you stretch. Somehow it’s even hard to breathe. After
a couple of minutes you are finally out of the closet and find your daughter at
the table in the kitchen, already munching on some mashed potatoes. You really
don’t know what you would do without Jonny; he takes care of her and everything
else since you are incapable of being a full time mother or tend to any
“Mommy, look,” she proudly shows you
her plate, excited to see you for the day.
You kiss her forehead and sadly
smile, not touching your food.
“Eat mommy,” Emma tries to feed you.
“This is f’om meeee,” she drags the word and you are familiar with the game so
you accept the tiny spoon. More mashed potatoes come your way. “And this is
f’om daaadddyyy,” you daughter giggles and you can’t even chew. But you pull
yourself together as she goes on: “This is f’om meeeee… …This is f’om
You forcefully eat and can’t stop the
tears anymore when the inevitable question arises:
“Whe’s daddy, hm?” and she looks
around, probably wanting to feed him also.
“Daddy’s not here,” and you abruptly
get up and run away, bumping into Frost that is coming over with more food.
“Hey, Y/N, did you eat already?!”
You don’t reply and go back to your
oasis, crying so hard you can’t focus as you go through the laptop, looking at
pictures and videos, precious memories that summarize your only hope for some
kind of closure. You accidentally click on “Accounts”, then want to back out
when a subfolder gets your attention: “For The Black Plague.”
What is this? you
wipe your eyes, not having a clue about what it would be: you rarely go into
“Accounts” on your laptop because J had all the links on his and kept track of
the money more than you did.
You double click on it and it opens
up a video icon, dated 6 months ago.
Click again and…
“So only watch this if I’m dead, OK?”
The Joker’s face popping up on the screen makes you gasp. “Are you still
watching?… Well, I guess I’m dead then. First thing first: don’t cry. Your
eyes get so puffy you look like a blow-up fish! Very unattractive! It’s 2 in
the morning, I am in my boxers and after you totally ignored my request for
sex, I guess I’m bored enough to make this stupid video. What is that?!” he
turns around and you can see yourself in the background, sleeping, completely
out of it. “Is that snoring? Huffing? Puffing? The Queen of Gotham, making all
those sounds! Geez, woman,” and J faces the camera again, tucking his messy
green hair behind the ears.
“Anyway, in case you were wondering,
yes, I hate you. I hate so much that I had a kid with you,” his husky voice announces.
“I guess that says it all. E-hem,” J fake coughs and you are mesmerized, can’t
even breathe. “Hey, Princess!” he yells, “I’m horny, wake up!” Some mumbling
about being tired is heard, you don’t recall anything. “For the record, this is
a direct threat to my health,” his blue eyes stare at the camera. “ I have to
be able to walk tomorrow so I must insist. Hey, Princess!” he yells louder.
“I’m horny, come on, wake up!”
A faint answer, can’t even understand
what you said.
“Wow, that tired, hm? Don’t care. I’m
gonna get laid no matter what,” and that cocky grin gets you out of trance for
a second. “It’s a miracle we got a kid out of this relationship. Before I go,
here’s the deal: since I obviously died first, I’ll wait for you. Don’t take
too long: try not to live until you’re a hundred or something, you are aware I
get easily bored. Then after you come, we’ll wait together for the kiddo, ok?”
Then he stops, thinking about what
just came out of his mouth.
“Oh my God, see what being horny and
ignored makes me do ?! I talk about a bunch of stupid stuff; it’s all your
fault !!!” he scrunches up his face, squirming in the recliner. Then it seems J
is having an interior struggle about his final words.
“Are you gonna make me say it?” and you involuntarily clench to your shirt.
“Fine, I’ll say it again: I hate you. You know what that translates into? Do
you?… It translates into I don’t like you. What?! Were you expecting I love
you? Pfft, in your dreams, woman, get over yourself; you’re not that special,”
The Joker hisses. “I might delete this since it’s complete garbage. I’ll decide
after you take care of my needs.”
And his finger goes over the camera,
the video coming to a halt.
You are so overwhelmed your body is
petrified, looking around the closet and expecting for something to happen. But
nothing happens, so you sigh, replaying the video over and over again until you
fall back to sleep.
Emma crawls by J, sucking on her
binky, trying to climb up his foot.
“You’re pretty helpless, aren’t you?”
he scoffs, watching her retry and dropping back on her little butt numerous
times until crying starts.
“For heaven’s sake, why can’t you
just do it?” and he helps her up, firmly pressing the 6 months old against his
leg. She clutches to his pants and starts smiling so widely that the pacifier falls
out of her mouth.
“What, you’re happy now?” and that
almost toothless, sweet smile makes him groan.“You’re not a cute baby, you know
“Stop saying that to our daughter,
she is cute!” you get mad since you heard him.
“You’d think she would be better looking
kid: I’m handsome and the mom is not that hideous,” The Joker blares out a
bunch of obnoxious unfunded opinions.
You snatch her from him, frowning.
“Let’s go, sweetie. Daddy’s just a
bitter, cranky man!”
“Watch it, Y/N!” he shouts after you as you leave the premises and after a
while a door gets slammed, then the elevator descending makes him aware you
gazes at the ceiling, already knowing where you’re headed.
He didn’t contact you in a week, you didn’t
bother either. Just stayed at your apartment like you usually do when things go
sour. And they go sour very often.
It’s the middle of the night and you
go check on Emma when you realize the nightlight in her room is on. You quietly
approach and peep inside from behind the wall: J is there, holding the little
one in his arms.
“You are cute,” he kisses her
forehead. “I just don’t like you too much.”
You decide to make your presence known.
“What are you doing here? You came to
see your ugly baby?”
The Joker growls, full of spite.
“Why didn’t you bring her over?! It’s
been a week!”
You lift your shoulders up, grouchy
“Why bother? You’ll be mean to her
and she doesn’t deserve it.”
“Shut up and stop aggravating me! You’re
coming back to the penthouse first thing in the morning.”
But fighting him is pointless.
“You can’t keep a father from his
child; it’s illegal!” J throws that in your face and it sounds so silly you chuckle.
“Da’yy,” Emma babbles and J drops the
cellphone in his lap.
“Did she just…did she just say
daddy?!” he inquires and you snort.
“I think so,” and you watch the one
year old hesitantly stepping towards a fascinated Joker.
“Can you say it again?” he lifts her
in his arms, probably expecting a full conversation. He’s that type of person.
But Emma just baby talks, preoccupied
with his crazy colored hair.
“Daaadyy, Daaaddyyyy, Daaaddddyy, la,
laaa, la, Dadddyyyyy, la, la,laaaa,” the two year old keeps on singing, walking her
Doll on her father’s knees.
He’s getting a headache: she’s been
singing that for the past 15 minutes, completely insensitive to her parent’s
“Pumpkin, are you going to stop soon?!”
The singing gets louder and you have
”Aren’t you excited you have your own
song? I don’t!”
“Ughhh, lucky me,” The Joker grumbles
but caresses her tiny head.
“Mom, mom, wake up, you’re talking in
your sleep again.”
First thing you see upon awakening is
Emma, sitting on the bed and holding your hand. She is 35 now, almost the same
age you were when you lost J.
You got so sick in the last month.
You had walking pneumonia and didn’t even know until you fainted in the living
room. Added to your heart disease and other complications, your health doesn’t
seem to improve, only worsen day by day. Your daughter refuses to leave your
side, even if you tell her you’re fine.
“I dreamed about your father again,” you
confess. “Dreams about a long time ago, when you were a baby…”
She softly laughs, kissing your hand.
“Did you dream about when we used to
look for him all over the place?”
“How do you know?” you smile, sliding
up your pillows.
“You keep on repeating his name, mom,”
Emma helps you up as you kind of struggle to keep your balance.
“Let’s look for him again, we didn’t do
it in so long!” you suddenly have an outburst of energy.
“Really?” she holds your waist as you
walk outside your bedroom.
“Humor an old woman, would you?” you
beg, playing the weakling mother.
“Fine,” your daughter agrees. “Let’s search
for him. Daadddddd!!!!” she raises her voice and you follow.
“Jaaaaayyyyyyy!!!!!!” and you search
the penthouse in every room, even the closets.
“He’s nowhere to be found…again…” you
get sad and Emma feels guilty.
“Mom, come on, don’t get upset.”
“Why can’t we ever find him?…” and
your teary eyes make hers the same. “I don’t feel too good, kiddo, help me back
“Did you take your meds, mom? You
must have high blood pressure again.”
“Stupid pills !! My heart disease it’s
from a broken heart, can’t fix that,” you repeat to the young woman like you
always do when she asks about the meds.
Emma places you back to bed, tucking
“I’ll bring some water for your
tablets. You have to take your antibiotics too. Did you eat anything today?”
“Of course!” you lie, dizzy and
“I don’t believe you. I’ll warm up
some food and I’ll be back shortly, ok?”
“Stubborn like your dad,” you playfully
slap her thigh.
“Stubborn like both, from what I’ve
heard,” she points out the truth, exiting the room.
You want to reach for the remote so
you can turn on the TV, but the sudden, sharp ache in your heart knocks you out
of breath. You try to call Emma’s name but the sounds freeze on your lips. The piercing
pain claws at your chest and your vision gets cloudier. The second wave of throbbing
ache calms your labored breathing and as you close your eyes forever, you hear
his voice so clearly: