My Mr J (Joker x Harley Quinn)

Prologue

His hands were around my neck like a dog collar with the silver spikes pointing towards the skin. It made me feel safe. Mr J never knew how to channel his anger in a way that wasn't destructive, I loved that about him. Pain is only temporary, but the blast of unimaginable energy that penetrates through your body whilst you're in danger, there's nothing else quite like it. Of course, roller coasters are fun, I quite prefer those to Mr J being mean. But there ain't nothing better than when my Puddin' forgives me. For what? I wouldn't know. I'm often in the way, or saying the wrong thing, I am known to be quite vexing. Mr J loves me. I love Mr J. It's perfect, a romance written in the stars.

He's yelling words and I'm trying to listen, trying my hardest.

"You don't understand Harley, this is a business. I have to run this thing... It's a hard job, Harley. This ship would sink without me." He gripped my neck harder, his left hand moved to rest on my inner left thigh, his fingernails slightly dug into my flesh. "B-b-buh-baby, you know, you know that I love you more than that Bat loves to try to ruin my life. I didn't think my shrivelled heart could beat so loudly when a gal enters a room." My eyes flashed around the club, glancing at all of the other men taking in my figure, laughing at my helplessness. The club was closed, these were Mr J's men. What they didn't know is that I could lift my right hand, grab Mr J's right wrist and using my right leg to break his arm in two places. Then, catching him off guard I could kick him in the nose, grab a gun from Teddy and bang, bang, bang. Baby's dead. Tears had begun to swell around my eyes, the thought of hurting my Puddin' hurt more than his sharp nails tearing into my porcelain skin. "You embarrassed me in there, sweetheart. You made me look like a joke. That's my job, baby. To make others look like the fool." His right arm lifted as his fingers disconnected from around my neck leaving bruises that would last longer than two weeks. His elbow arched into the familiar 'V' shape and his paw turned into a fist. I smiled.

"Mr J, I promise. Neva' again. I'll be as silent as a mouse, if ya' want you can sew my mouth up, real tight. I'll neva' say another word again. Promise." My lower lip quivered. "I love you." His fist thrusted into my face, my vision began to blacken. I could taste iron, I felt my face become wet, I could feel my heartbeat in my jaw.

"I love you too, Harley."

He wasn't always like that, you know. Only when things went wrong and I was the closest and easiest target. He got a thrill of hurting me but also off making me happy. I always had this fantasy, him in a purple suit and me in a jesters outfit. Dancing around a courtroom full of other creatures of the night and life-size stuffed animals. So one day, my Mr J marched into my room with the most beautiful jesters outfit that had ever been created. I don't think anyone else owned such an exquisite article of clothing. It looked better than my dreams, better than I could ever had imagined. He was wearing a tailored purple suit that made his bright green hair shine in a way that reminded me of artificial sour apple flavoured candy. He played old movie soundtracks in the background as we slow danced and laughed. Mr J's laugh was infectious. I could be sobbing louder than a police siren but if I heard my Puddin's laughter, I had to join in. Mr J makes me happy, I owe him everything for that.