My Boyfriend Is a Psychopathi...

By sassybatmanrivera

233K 5.1K 435

Dating the Joker (especially the hot, Heath Ledger-type Joker) is a dream of many Batman fangirls (me! ME... More

My Boyfriend Is a Psychopathic Clown: Harley Quinn's Story
Chapter 1: Puddin's in Trouble
Chapter 2: A Visit To Arkham
I Accidentally Get Myself Locked Up. (Oops. Epic fail!)
Chapter 4: It Feels Like Years Ago....
Chapter 5: Everything Goes to Pieces
"Haaaaaaaaaaaaarley...!"
Highway Robbery and "The Artist"
Our Big Gig...and that Green Monster
The Best Laid-Plans....(Aka What Went Down at Wayne Manor)
Silver Thorns and Bloody Roses
Puddin's Worst Enemy
Dude...Where's My Joker?
Do the Creep (Not).
"Leaves of Three, Let Them Be"... Unless They're Saving You
I Get An Alternative (contest inside!!!!)
I Start Dating Bandage Boy
I Suddenly Learn Everything
The Point of No Return (And No Regrets)
Mr. J!
In Which Puddin' is Being a Grumpypuss :(
Heroism?...Not.
An X-tra Special Encounter
Gangster's Moll
Queenie Hartz
Psycho...Bang Bang!
"Off With Her Head!"
Pidgeon, or I Do My Man Wrong
Roomies
Baby, It's Cold Outside (and Inside)
Recap\ Then There Is An Imposter on the Loose!
And, of Course, I Screw Up...And During Mr. J's GREATEST Plan....
The Things Our Friends Do For Us!
Gemerally (this is not a spelling error, but a pun) Speaking....
Ouch, That Hurts!
Exes Beware: A Precautionary Tale
Guest Star
P. I
Riding off into the Sunset....

Lawyers and General Lunacy.

3.4K 88 7
By sassybatmanrivera

I'd never been in Gotham's jail before - my association with Mr. J and Ivy had sent me straight to the loony tunes bin...but this time was different.

I'd never killed someone before.

"We'll go with an insanity defense - the jury will know how many times you've been in and out of Arkham - but I wouldn't lose sleep over this trial, alright, Harley? It was self-defense. If anyone could find the body of Ms. Hartz, or if, hypothetically, she were still alive, she'd be on trial for attempted murder," my fast-talking lawyer told me, pacing around the stuffy conference room. I couldn't believe someone who was so old - at least sixty-five - had so much energy.

"I used to work for your man J, back in the day before the chemical vat incident. He ever tell you about Tommy and Debbie?"

"Tommy Doyle - I've heard of him. He's still on death row for her murder." The story always chilled me - a man killing his girl - and I hoped it would never inspire Mr. J to off me like that.

The older man's silvery eyebrows rose.

"That's all you know, chickie? Laughin' Boy never told you how it was really him who killed that girl - bundled her up in his coat, he did, like a real chivalrous gentleman and watched Doyle shoot her - how after, he assumed posession of all Doyle's men...and he ran his mob cleaner and smoother than Tom ever could, before everything fell to pieces?"

"Puddin' hasn't had the time for bragging lately."

He clicked his tongue.

"Right - I forgot Old Painted-Face was locked up with you. Where's he now?"

"I don't know," I sobbed pathetically, and he patted my shoulder awkwardly like a father uncomfortable with physical intimacy or crying females.

I sat in my cell (they'd voted me mentally incompetant and sent me back to Arkham), staring sadly out the window, moonlight shining in and crying softly.

"Harley, don't be a mopeypuss," Killer Frost criticized , her chilly breath making ice crystals out of my tears.

"Yeah, Harls - we're having a dance party in the showers. I even brought you a dress. Thanks a lot for friends on the outside world!" Peyton handed me a folded pile of fabric. It was blue leather and laced up the back, and there were matching lace-up knee-high stiletto boots. Her dress was red silk with a bubble skirt and U-neck. We danced to the latest top-40 hits and the Nazi-esque female wardens turned a blind eye, allowing us crazy ladies one night of fun.

And then The Riddler rushed into the room, breaking up our girl-power festival.

"Harley - you've got to see this."

The TV was tuned to GNN, zoomed in on a giant present-shaped bomb; sitting on top of it, Mr. J.

My Puddin

He was outside one of our Ha-Ha-Haciendas, the one with the giant blowup clowns inside - their heads were poking out the windows -. I melted like butter at the smooth cadence of his voice, like a caress on my skin.

"At a quarter to midnight, this bomb's going to go off. I packed it with enough TNT to blow Gotham sky-high - we'll all get stuck in the clouds!" He cackled with his usual manic enthusiasm. I noticed he wore a new shirt - lime green with ruffles down the chest - under his purple suit, and a smart black bow tie.

"He looks so dapper," I bragged, but everyone just rolled their eyes. They were so jealous!

We watched, spellbound for the next hour as police, SWAT, even Batman, tried to interfere, but Puddin' - oh, my clever, clever angel - had anticipated this, and only laughed harder as they fell into his traps and failed to foil him. I clapped and cheered so loudly everyone was giving me death glares by the time the bomb was set to explode...but I noticed he didn't hop off of it.

This wasn't how my Puddin' was going to go out of the world, a suicide bomber...was it?

But there was no deafening boom, just a sort of soft splat, as out of the present, shot...cake - yes, cake, in all colors and sizes and flavors, decorated vibrantly. And then I knew.

"Happy Birthday, Puddin'," I whispered affectionately. He'd wanted everyone to remember - and what a good job he'd done of it, too!

I was lying in my bed, too upset to sleep. I knew I should be with him on this special day...but I was locked up, behind bars! I beat my fists against the wall in frustration...and then I heard a tapping on my window, and sprang to it.

"Hiya, Harley-Girl!"

"M-Mistah J!"

He let me embrace him, an unusal move, since Puddin' usually shied away from any contact that didn't involve violence.

"Now, what kind of birthday would it be without my Harley Quinn? Hot dress!"

I twirled around in the formfitting leather, doing a high kick in my awesome boots (I was so wearing them the next time we went out on the town to ruckus.)

"Do you like my birthday present?" A rubber chicken-shaped biplane hummed and purred outside my window, piloted by one of Puddin's goons.

"Where should we go?" he asked as we hopped inside.

"Someplace warm."

I shed my navy blue supershort shorts and light blue and white-striped button down for my bright green halter-top string bikini and danced on the beach, happily feeling the sand between my toes while Puddin' injected some of the local water wildlife with his Joker toxin to make them Laughing Fish (he even had a Laughing JellyFish). Later, he would set them loose, and we would have to go on the run, but for right now, I could pretend I was a regular girl tanning and swimming at the beach with her boyfriend.

"Bet Queenie Hartz wouldn't look this good in this suit," I challenged, strutting in front of him in my skimpy swimsuit...but he didn't even look up. Sure, I'd forgiven him for leaving me, since he came back -  but what does a girl have to do to get noticed around here? Sometimes I thought I played second fiddle to Puddin's work...but that was totally ridiculous! Of course he loved me best!

The end of this chapter felt weird to write, because the Joker rarely ever treats Harley like that (and by that, I mean nice), especially not in this fanfiction, but it's his birthday, so I figured it kind of worked (and a certain person - cough, cough, you know who you are - kept bugging me if they got back together, so I wrote that semi-romantic mushy scene, blah blah blah). I SO can't wait to update next!!!! Tell me what you think is going to happen!!!!! (and if you already know, no spoilers).

-SBR

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