Maybe that's what happens when a tornado meets a volcano, all I know is I love you too much to walk away now
Harley stood shaking, her smile plastered on despite her fear as Joker stood before her. The skimpy little lingerie piece she wore the night before covering over her flesh. The same flesh he had seen time and time again, but this time it was different. The gun that lay next to the door was one that belonged to only one man, a bullseye carved into the side. A gun that was used for shots from far away, and none excelled in such a way more than Deadshot himself. But Floyd was no where to be found. Instead, the room was empty besides the two clowns, Harley's makeup smudged from the night before.
"Suicide Squad, hm, Harlz?" Despite the smile on his own face, Harley could see the anger in his eyes. The look of a man who's possession had been touched by another. It was like Joker to hurt Harley before, but over something like this? She knew the outcome would be far more severe.
"Puddin, it ain't like that! You kow you're the only one who can rev up this Harley!" She stumbled over her words, the lie spilling out of her.
Joker growled at her, causing Harley to step back a few inches. He didn't say anything, the switchblade protracting, before one quick movement from his arm and her cheek would be cut in. Harley's screams filled the air around them, before another quick jab, this time her opposite cheek. Blood poured down, leaking over white makeup. She grabbed a hold of her cheeks, falling to the ground. "P-P-Puddin.."
"You broke my heart, Harlz." The truth was, Harley knew better. She knew that Joker didn't have a heart. On occassion, he would be kind to her, he wouldn't treat her as though she was just some stupid bimbo, but she had found herself believing that she deserved his wrath. His cruelty. She believed that in his eyes, making her his possession was the only way she could become his lover.
His words hurt her more than the blade did, cutting deeper than the wounds, as he inflicted another, this time her palm as she held it protectively over her head. She didn't want to fight with him. She had learned time and time again that nothing good ever happened from fighting back. Blood dripped down her flesh, staining the floor of her apartment.
Even as the blood spilled from her palm, she placed her bloody hand over his white cheek, tears spilling from her eyes, creating a track down her makeup, her mascara running. It was not the pain of the knife, but instead the fact that she had hurt him. "I'm sorry, Puddin." He moved closer to her, his lips meshing into her own. HIs free hand grabbed hold of the ends of her pigtails, forcing them in a ponytail in the back, his lips locking into her own dominantly.
Hot and cold. It was the only way to explain the relationship between the two. Blood, kisses, apologies. It was all it ever was when chaos subdued. When there was no Batman. When there wasn't anything to plot. In that moment, she felt the heat, his warm body against her own, and for a moment, for a split second, she felt as though he had forgiven her for being worthless, for giving into temptation. For a moment, she was on cloud nine as their lips pressed together. But in that instant, she felt the blade penetrate her chest. Not once, but twice. Her screams silenced by his lips.
This time the blade pierced into her belly, twisting even as he pulled away. Harley's mouth opened to tell Joker what he had done, that it was not only she that he had just hurt, but her lips closed. Blood poured down her large breasts, down her belly, between her thighs as she lay. Fingers moved to her belly, trying to subdue the bleeding, her eyes looked in disbelief up to her lover who's cheek was stained with bloody fingerprints. "I'm sorry, Mista J..." She whimpered at him. She could feel it, the dizziness, the numbness. She watched as he left her there, bleeding out, alone...
