Title: Icarus
Genre: Angst, Romance
Rating: R
Pairing: Harley/Ivy, suggestions of Harley/Joker
Summary: Eventually, things will go too far and Ivy knows she'll lose Harley forever.
Notes: So, this style is like my guilty pleasure. I don't use it very often, but I like it a lot when I do. I like to call it "RANDOM THOUGHT EXPLOSION" because, well, that's pretty much what it is. So if this seems kind of choppy, it's meant to be. This isn't my favorite thing I've written but I'm happy enough with it. Feedback would be great though!
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Sunflowers always follow the sun.
Harley always follows the Joker.
It's a similarity that Ivy can't deny. The Joker is Harley's sun (but no, no, no-he's a black hole and he constantly swallows her and destroys her then spits her right back out and how doesn't she see?). And she hates that thought so much (hates him so much). Harley is hers. At least, she should be hers. Because Ivy is what's best. Ivy can comfort her and protect her and love her (and if the thought of loving a human isn't the most terrifying thing she can think of, she doesn't know what is).
Harley is one of her plants. She's loud and vivid an vibrating in her garden for fractured pieces of time (never enough time). She clings to Ivy and Ivy nurtures her (she can heal her and she can drive her insane. There have been many nights spent with her head clutched between Harley's strong thighs, where she functions on animal instinct and her thoughts simply pulse maybe this time over and over). Then Harley goes back, stumbling over her petals and following what she believes is the sun (and she always leaves Ivy standing alone with Harlequins pumping in her veins even though her heart has collapsed against her ribs).
There were days when Ivy was a child when she would spend hours in her room with books about Greek Mythology. Her chin would be in her hands and her elbows would burn holes in the floor. She would read and read (and somehow the words would wind through her mind and paint scribble on the walls of her thoughts with permanent markers-she could still remember them like she had read them yesterday).
Harley reminds her of those stories. Of one in particular, about a boy named Icarus (Icarus who accidentally flew too high. The sun melted the wax on his hand-made wings and he fell and fell and fell). And Ivy knows that soon Harley will suffer the same fate. Things will go too far and Ivy already knows how the story ends.
(She can already see the feathers falling off of Harley when she walks or breathes or sleeps. They escape from her sleeves and cling to her hair. They melt from her skin and they fall. They pool around her feet and only Ivy can see them.
And, soon, there will be nothing left to hold Harley up.)
What terrifies Ivy most (more than humans and feelings and love) is the fact that, truly, she has no idea how to save her. She is always in control of every situation and every single factor in every situation. But Harley is sometimes strange, an interference in the constants. She is too much. Too much noise and energy and emotion. Constantly, she shakes with the pure amount of everything that fills her body to the brim. Ivy drowns in Harley and she's never in control of the girl because she is just purely unpredictable.
Ivy has no idea what to do in this situation, and that brings up another emotion. It's new (and sharp but not sharp enough that she doesn't feel it when it cuts her open). It's almost as frightening as love itself.
Harley Quinn is the only person that can make Ivy feel helpless.
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