She told me I was awful.

Man, that shit did not phase me.

Tell me how I suck again,

my memory is hazy.

- Childish Gambino, Bonfire

Warning: This chapter contains mature content and descriptions of drug use.

Harley Quinn.

No one had ever called her that before.

Like a vaccine, like a toxin, the name made its way into her bloodstream and tattooed itself wickedly behind her eyelids. Blonde lashes fluttered shut. Lips parted. Posture slackened. She sighed against the barrel of his gun.

Joker preened. There she was. His creation. And all it had taken was a name.

"You like the sound of that?" he mused so softly it could be considered intimate, "You want this?"

The woman in front of him that was not at all Harleen let out the tiniest, breathy laugh. Joker felt his chest swell with that — that something, and he couldn't find it in him to feel disgusted this time. Instead, he slowly holstered his pistol and mapped out his future along the dips and valleys of her face.

"Uh, Boss? Falcone's nephew is here to speak with you."

At the sound of Jonny's voice, Harleen opened her eyes as if waking from a dream and looked around, undoubtedly disoriented. She looked so vulnerable in this moment and Joker had to reel in his lust.

"Take her home," Joker forced out in a growl, slicking back his hair and picking up the still-burning joint from the crystal ashtray. Grey eyes flicked up, and he caught Harleen's gaze as he took a long, leisurely drag. Smoke slowly escaped his lips like a ghost as he spoke. "Want a hit of this?"

Dying to just go home and scream into her pillow, Harleen stiffly shook her head and scrunched her nose in disgust. "I ain't a fan of drugs."

Before he could talk himself out of it, Joker grabbed Harleen's jaw, roughly pressed his lips to hers, and blew the remaining smoke into her mouth.

Startled by the abrupt kiss and oblivious to his reasoning, Harleen inhaled sharply—but wrenched away from him when her throat began to burn.

"Joker!"

Smoke billowed in front of Harleen's face when she coughed and she could see Joker fall into hysterics through the fog.

"You're a fuckin—" Glaring at him, Harleen hacked on her words, unknowingly strengthening the effect of the drug, "Asshole."

Her fingers itched to grab the beer off of the table and throw it in the clown's face, but Harleen lifted it to her lips instead to soothe her aching throat.

As Jonny tugged her out of the booth, Harleen shot Joker a dirty look and mouthed the words, "Fuck you."

Grinning silver, Joker winked and waved her off.

"Where's Caroline?" she demanded once they had left, fighting back the urge to zone out. God, the stars were so pretty. "What did you do with her? Huh? I swear, if you hurt my friend —"

"She's drugged upstairs and won't remember a thing in the morning," Jonny replied bluntly, running a hand over his beard. "Relax."

"Relax? How do you expect me to relax right now?" Harleen shoved him, but Jonny was a built like a brick wall and barely moved. He gave her a short laugh at the attempt and she seethed. "What, you think I'm cute when I'm angry, or somethin'? Cause in that case, I'm about to get real gorgeous —"

"Would you rather she know and die because of it?" Jonny countered impatiently, placing a hand on the small of her back as they rounded the corner. Harleen wanted to shrink away from his touch, but the alleyway was eerie, so she allowed it. This time.

Boy, was the weed starting to hit her. It took five minutes for Harleen to realize that she had never verbally replied to him, only ranted in her thoughts — but in that same instance, she had forgotten what they had been talking about altogether. Huh. She sniffed at the air. Was there pizza nearby?

Jonny wanted to push her in front of a bus when Harleen began to loudly hum Pure Imagination, but he bit his tongue and counted to ten. Boss would kill him if something happened to his new toy. This much he knew.

But his logic didn't stop him from picking Harleen up and throwing her carelessly into the backseat once they reached his car. The few sharp turns he took to make her tumble around like a sack of potatoes was incredibly therapeutic.

An hour later, Harleen was half-naked in bed next to an empty bag of chips, giggling at how her toes looked when she wiggled them.

"This little piggy went to market…"

Arkham was red in the face by the time Harleen showed up for work the next morning.

After listening to the six furious voicemails the night before, she had decided it would be best to pretend that her cellphone had gone missing. Oops. How unfortunate.

Harleen sipped at her coffee in the employee lounge and flashed Arkham an innocent smile when he came charging in. "Morning, sir!"

"Do you play me for a fool, Quinzel?" Arkham sneered at her, stepping into her personal space. "Where have you been? Why didn't you answer my calls?"

Harleen frowned a little, playing up her confusion. "I've misplaced my phone. What's the matter?"

"What's the matter? What's the matter?" Arkham spluttered, ripping off his glasses. "The matter is your goddamn patient broke out last night and is on the loose!"

"He broke out." Harleen echoed flatly, brows set. She shook her head. "No, that's impossible."

What a lie. Joker was an enigma. With the right amount of motivation, he was capable of anything.

"If you're questioning my word, Quinzel, you can go ahead and check his damn cell."

Arkham was a sleep-deprived, infuriated mess, with his loosened tie and — was his lab jacket inside-out?

Feigning impending alarm, Harleen blinked rapidly and gaped at him with big, blue eyes. "I— but I was just with him!"

"Exactly. You were with him for nearly twenty-four hours."

Harleen's heart stopped at his words. Wait a minute. She stared at him in disbelief. "I didn't help him, Doctor Arkham. I wasn't even here."

Distressed, Arkham took a step back and lowered himself into one of the plastic chairs to address her seriously. "He killed my nephew. The son of a bitch beat him to death with a stapler before stripping him of his uniform and walking out wearing it."

It took every ounce of self-control not to laugh out loud. Instead, Harleen turned away from him and stared at the coffeemaker, shoulders shaking in silent laughter as she envisioned Griggs being killed.

She hoped the trembling would come across as fear.

Swiping away a tear brought on by her muted giggles, Harleen composed herself and regarded Arkham with a deep frown. The corners of her mouth twitched. She sniffled.

"I am so sorry, Doctor."

Her biggest lie yet. Good riddance.

Three days later, Harleen woke to the sound of soft cackling at the foot of her bed.

It was three in the morning and she had gone to bed alone.

What a nightmare. A menacing clown breaking into her apartment and watching her sleep.

Switching on her bedside lamp, Harleen pressed a hand to her chest and felt her heart hammer against her palm. "What the hell, J!"

There he was, in all of his demented glory, twirling the rose he had given her between his fingers.

Still half-asleep, Harleen mumbled stupidly through a yawn, "Put that back. It isn't yours."

Smug and chuckling, Joker complied and plopped it back into the vase on her dresser. "Sweet of you to keep it," he teased.

Harleen gathered her comforter to her chest and crossed her arms over it, scowling at him through her fatigue. "What are you doin' here? I ain't about to take off my nightgown and dance for you." She rubbed at her eyes. "I've had a long day."

Grossed out by how blatantly cute she was in this moment, Joker looked away and gagged a little. "No thanks. Not now."

"Can we get this over with? What do ya want?" Harleen snapped, lips pursed. It wasn't a good idea for anybody to mess with her in the middle of the night.

Unimpressed with her attitude, Joker addressed her sternly, "What did I tell you about that mouth?"

"There ain't nothin' wrong with it," Harleen retorted with a grumpy scowl, hair falling in front of her face. "I haven't told anybody about you, if that's what you came to ask." She frowned. "So you can leave now."

Joker glowered at her and stepped closer with a tight jaw. "Watch it, little girl," he warned her darkly, "All of that chit-chat is gonna get you hurt."

Fed up with him, Harleen leaned forward and raised an eyebrow, challenging him slowly, "Yeah? What are ya gonna do about it, Daddy?" A mocking smirk. "Spank me?"

An animalistic growl ripped from Joker's throat. "Good idea, you fucking brat." Fuming, he tossed his suit jacket to the floor, effortlessly yanked Harleen's tiny body out of bed, and threw her over his lap.

"Let go of —!" Harleen furiously began, but an expensive tie was shoved into her mouth and her wrists were soon after pinned behind her back. When she felt her nightgown being flipped up to expose her bare ass, she shrieked in humiliation around the gag.

Without a moment's hesitation, Joker gritted his teeth and let his hand fall down against her flesh with a very, very hard slap.

Crying out in pain, Harleen struggled to get off of his lap, but Joker was much stronger.

Smack. Smack. Smack.

She sobbed wretchedly and begged for him to stop, but her display of mortified agony didn't halt the spanking. If anything, the intensity increased.

Smack. Smack. Smack!

Harleen screamed and arched her back. The rings on his fingers were starting to bruise her and Joker was relentless.

It took thirteen spanks for her to begin submitting. Slowly, beautifully, Harleen relaxed against his lap, and the frequency of his blows decreased when her desperate sobs turned into soft weeping.

Panting from exertion, Joker ran his palm over the abused flesh and experimentally let go of Harleen's wrists. She didn't move away and he knew it was safe to take the tie out of her mouth.

Joker had planned to dump her onto the floor when he was finished and leave without another word, but Harleen was so — so good, crying pitifully against the fabric of his dress pants, so he scooped her up and tried not to flinch when she pressed her wet face into his neck.

"I'm sorry," Harleen whimpered and hiccuped, clinging to him. "I'm so sorry."

Joker didn't regret his punishment. It had to be done. "You're forgiven, Harley-girl," he mumbled, allowing her to settle down in his arms. "It's over, now."

Soothed by his words, Harleen let out a long breath and was asleep by the time Joker tucked her into bed.

Walking through Arkham Asylum with a sore ass without grimacing proved to be extremely difficult. Despite how exposed it made her feel, Harleen had opted out of wearing panties because the contact was too painful. She stopped into the bathroom more than once that afternoon, locking the door behind her to take a peek at her aching bottom in the mirror.

The blotchy handprints stung when Harleen touched them, but nothing compared to the dark welts left behind from Joker's rings. Those were the bruises that made it impossible to sit down without crying out.

Opening her purse and rummaging through it, Harleen thought back to the note she had found on her pillow that morning.

Be a good girl and apply lotion frequently. - J

P.S. Check your closet. Be ready to leave by midnight.

She felt slutty and humiliated, smoothing lotion over her beaten ass in the employee bathroom. Never in her life had Harleen been hit, let alone by a psychopathic clown thug. Knowing that Joker had spanked her raw in the middle of the night made her shudder. And the fact that she had ended up crying in his arms like a baby —

Splashing some cold water in her face, Harleen gripped the edge of the bathroom sink and took a deep breath as droplets collected by her chin. She wouldn't allow herself to like it. She just wouldn't.

Three gentle but unexpected knocks on the door made Harleen jump out of her skin.

"Harleen? Are you in there?"

Quickly, Harleen gathered some paper towel and blotted the water off of her face and neck. It was Joan Leland, the only other female psychiatrist in the institution. Her level of experience intimidated her to say the least.

"Yeah, I'll — I'll be right out! Sorry!"

Making sure her skirt was smoothed down over her backside, Harleen sheepishly unlocked the door and opened it with a tight smile. Joan flashed a kind smile of her own as she stepped inside, all perfect black hair and mocha skin.

"You doing okay?" Joan questioned, uncapping a tube of lipstick. She gave Harleen a look in the mirror that screamed pity. "It's been a rough week for everybody." A knowing pause. "For you."

Rolling back her shoulders, Harleen stepped in front of the adjacent mirror and fixed her hair. "I'm fine," she assured stiffly, "Just fine."

"When Joker is captured again — which he will be," Joan added pointedly, "I'd be happy to take him off of your hands, now that I'm back from vacation."

What a snob.

"Not a chance," Harleen fired back heatedly, adjusting the strap of her purse over her shoulder. There was a curious fire in her chest at the thought of Joan alone with Joker. This earned her an odd look from Joan and she quickly corrected, "No thank you. I'm not afraid of him."

Joan raised an eyebrow. "You should be. You know who he is, right? What he has committed?"

"I'm more than aware." Harleen set her jaw and frowned. "I've been treating him for almost two months, Joan. I know him more than any of you."

"Fine." Miffed by her temper, Joan snapped at her on the way out, "That's Doctor Leland, to you."

Harleen glared daggers at her back and waited until she was gone to properly flip her off.

What a bitch. Maybe Joker could kill her next, if she promised to behave. With something worse than a stapler. She giggled and bit her lip. Scissors, maybe.

Woah, woah, woah.

Thoroughly alarmed by her morbid train of thought, Harleen splashed more water on her face and let out a frustrated whine.

God, did her ass hurt.

Very sorry for the wait. School started back up, but I have adjusted accordingly. :') Thank you all so much for reading. Your reviews, favorites, and follows are adored. Will update soon.