Hello, all! I know, I know, I haven't published any Joker/Harley fics in a while... I got off my game for a bit, was a little discouraged about my writing, but I'm working out my shit and now have a new oneshot! This story is a bit drabblish, I wrote it in just about five minutes, so don't expect a whole lot. I liked how it turned out, even if it isn't spectacular. This is too hold you guys over until I publish my new story... Yes, that's right, I have a new one planned! It's not going to be huge, but it's based off of my so-far-opinion on the new Suicide Squad movie. I'm sure a lot of you already know my strong feelings surrounding Ayer-verse, and how angry I am at the turn out of the new Mistah J.. Hopefully, they'll prove me wrong. (But I doubt it, because Joker is NOT a thug, or a pimp, he's a classy man with the mind of a genius.) Anywho, I'll have that published soon, but until then, enjoy this one!

It still smelled of soot and burning metal. Harley wasn't completely sure if the smell was lingering on her clothes, inside her sinuses or if it was all in her head. It could have been a mix of all three and she'd never know. The adrenaline was still pumping through her veins, making her small body shake with the overwhelming emotion, her head swimming as she dug her nails into her palm. One hand clenched in on itself while the other stayed tightly wrapped around her gun.

Her gun.

Not just a gun, not J's gun, but hers. He'd told her so, right before shoving it into her chest and pointing to the target. She was his toy soldier now, his to command with no complaints and he revelled in it. It was terrifying, giving herself to him that way, but it also excited her. It almost felt like she was free. When she belonged to him, she had nothing to worry about. No concerns. Just pleasing him.

The Joker.

It was hard to think when he was so close to her, and though the sane part of her mind was reeling, screaming at her for the sin she had just committed — the murder! — her other personality was begging her to scoot to the right, just a few more inches, just close enough to feel the soft purple material of his suit. Harley didn't know what was wrong with her. All those years of school down the drain, because she couldn't even decipher what the hell was wrong in her own mind…

Then again…

Maybe there wasn't anything wrong in there at all.

After all, love is one of the most powerful emotions. And the most noble of causes.

She was doing this all for love.

Her body lurched as the van came to an unannounced halt and she blinked until her vision was no longer blurry and she could finally process what was happening. She noticed in her peripheral that the Joker was standing, stretching his arms over his head. Her eyes traced up and down his long frame, watched with eager eyes as he popped the joints in his neck, his full lips parting in a pleased sigh, those strong hands lacing together in the air… The simplest of actions brought a spark to her core, something that both thrilled her and infuriated her. She'd never been so weak before. A hot flush reached her cheeks and she glanced down, her fist still glued to her gun, the clown mask she'd worn dangling from the fingers of her other hand. She quickly made her move to escape the van, wanting to disappear inside the warehouse and hide until this whirlwind of thoughts finally left her, but just before she could step down, a leather-clad hand wrapped tight around her bicep, bruising her. She gasped as she was pulled back against a hard chest, shivering just slightly at their proximity. Her eyes fell closed when she felt his breath shoot across the nape of her neck. The rough bumps of his scars slid across her cheek until his painted lips found her ear.

His voice was wet and suffocatingly hot when he purred into her ear. "You did good."