Joker and Harley oneshots and headcanons.

Harley's dreamcatcher.

Trigger warnings: SA, night terrors, smoking, brief mention of panic attacks and flashbacks.

Wordcount: 2,234

The air was cold, blowing through the bedroom curtains, making Joker shiver.

Harley lay beside him, restless in her sleep. She mumbled to whoever it was in her dreams, kicking the blankets off of herself, her jaw clenched and her eyebrows furrowed.

Her arm jerked up suddenly, almost knocking over the ashtray kept on the bedside table. Her mumbles turned to whispers, then to whines, then to a shaking, but understandable speaking voice.

Joker placed his hand on her shoulder, and she turned to her side, back facing him.

"No....Get off...."

Joker reached over and pushed her hair out of her face, watching as her face twisted in pain. He had an idea of what she was dreaming about. It wasn't anything nice.

"Honey, it's only me. Only me. Can you calm down for me? Can you calm down for puddin?"

Harley's chest rose and fell almost as violently as her shaking head as she convulsed in her sleep. "No-No-No-" Joker felt his heart pick up a few speeds at her sudden change in breathing.

He rolled her over to lie against him, her head on his chest. He cradled her head in his hands. He didn't mind if he got kicked or smacked, maybe even bitten, this was the only way. For her at least.

It wasn't the easiest thing to do. To get a person so deep in fantasy to calm down, especially a person like Harley who managed to be stubborn even during a nightmare of her darkest moments in life. He knew she needed out. That was obvious. It was getting her out that was the hard part.

"Shhh, I know you're scared, baby, I know. Puddin's here, he's going to protect you, alright? He'll keep you safe."

Joker knew he was likely speaking into the void, but, a small part of him hoped that it got through to her, that he managed to be that little voice telling her everything will be okay.

He ran his fingers through her hair, gently massaging the base of her neck, still hushing her.

Slowly but surely, Harley stopped fighting, and the words coming from her mouth turned to quiet whimpers.

Joker continued petting her hair, cradling her in his arms. My poor dove, he thought to himself.

"There we go, baby. Good girl, your puddin's got ya, and he's not letting go."

Still asleep, Harley wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tightly. "Puddin..."

Joker squeezed her just as tightly, watching her body relax and her breathing even out. "He's gone, baby. He isn't going to touch you, he can't hurt you anymore," he whispered as Harley stirred in her sleep.

Joker reached over to the nightstand for a cigarette, but stopped at Harley's protest. She whined at his movement and snuggled herself into him. "Alright," he whispered, "no moving tonight." He draped his arm back over her shoulders with a soft kiss on her hair. "I'm sorry."

-

"You still sleeping, honey?"

Joker asked after a few minutes of quietness. Harley usually woke up after a nightmare, occasionally during them, but that caused more harm than good.

Joker had to let go of feeling like he had to wake her up. It hurt to see her in so much pain, thrashing everywhere in an attempt to keep the imaginary hands off of her skin. She'd wake up disorientated, stressed, and overall terrified. It was best to let her wake up on her own time, keep her from hurting herself and just waiting it out. He still had to convince himself that it was best for her. It was just amplifying her pain to dull his own.