Smile
Written by Sibanshee

The urgency in his touch always took me to the edge. How he always ripped my clothes off leaving me exposed, growling as his hands explored every single inch of my skin, his lips marking his territory. I usually would lay there, letting him do whatever he pleased, as long as he was satisfied, happy. That always brought joy to me... but not anymore, I wanted more.

"Mistah J-" I moaned, his hands already struggling with his belt. J looked down at me, puzzled, already agitated and aroused. Any other time I would have forgotten my worries, he held a power over me, an unexplainable control, but a year had gone by, a year since my skin had been consumed by the chemicals and I was growing tired of my insecurities, jaded by the uncertainty of his feelings towards me.

After a few seconds of watching me, he ignored my interruption, his hands resuming his unbuckling and J's trousers found their way down his legs to the floor. I said nothing until his hands landed on my breasts and I pushed him away once more.

"Puddin'!" I said, louder than before.

"My baby looks stressed, let Daddy help you relax." he said, looking down at me with lust. J leaned down to kiss me but I turned my face to the side, avoiding his lips. He groaned and moved away from me, harshly, sitting on the bed.

I incorporated and hesitantly placed my hand on his shoulder, but he shook it away. I felt a needle pierce my heart when his eyes met mine, cold as ice his gaze was, shallow and cruel.

"You can't expect me to get all cuddly if you juggle with the clown's balls and suddenly you just don't feel like playing." he hissed, getting up from bed and walking towards the window, not bothering on putting his clothes back on.

"I just- nevermind, come back to bed will ya?" I pleaded, hating the sound of my weak demand. J slowly turned and assessed me for a moment, no shiny smile as he moved back to the bed and continued his interrupted work, crimson lips connecting with my neck but this time, they were cold and indifferent. I wrapped my arms around his torso all the same, closing my eyes as he kissed me, mechanically.

And so it happened, as he moved and pleased himself with my body, I closed my eyes and said no more until the words slipped from my mouth involuntarily.

"I love you, J."

And he stopped.

J pulled away a few inches from me, his heavy breathing getting choked on his throat. I suddenly felt terrified, knowing that by saying those words my future with him would now be more uncertain than it had been seconds ago.

Saying 'I love you' to this unsensible psychopath, Harley. Way to go, stupid dumbass.

However, I wanted to hear those words back. As naive as it may seem I knew he had 'something you can all
Feelings' towards me. But I wanted to hear it, authentically hear them.

"Mistah J?"

He shook his head, my voice snapping him out from his own thoughts and he rolled on his back, away from me. I frowned and sat, my eyes scanning his face, his icy blue eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Puddin' say something." I managed to say.

"What?" he replied, a sarcastic chuckle finding it's way out of his mouth, along with a mocking grin that squeezed my heart. "What do you want me to say? You know my posture on the topic. And this is the second time you interrupt me tonight so if you excuse me."

I watched him pull his pants on and storm out of the room, leaving me heartbroken.

Yes, I could still get heartbroken.

My life had always been a series of rejections and heartbreaks. When it felt like I couldn't get one more, I was reminded of how unworthy of being loved I was.

For starters, I always questioned my parents love towards me and my sister. There was too much neglection in between; no hugs, no kisses, not a single show of affection.

I guess that explains my lame obsession with love. How I grew up willing to find that special someone, my partner, a family of my own, to give that person the endearment I never got.

I found it. In a psychopath.

And I had everything with him. He spoiled me to the extremes. Jewelry, power, fun, excess, riches. But it was like going back to my teenage years, getting a brand new expensive purse when all I needed was my parents making it to my gymnastics competition.

It was the same with the Joker. I had changed my whole life for him, killed, robbed, burned down the city for him. But did he appreciate everything I was achieving? Were his infrequent hugs and harsh kisses something I could rely on?

Doctor Harleen screamed at me from the back of my head, telling me to wake up and stop waiting for something that would never come. At least not from a murderous clown who saw me as one of his many possessions.

Getting up from bed was a huge struggle. I paced around the room, picking up our clothes absentmindedly, hoping some order would give me some kind of comfort. As I entered the closet, my attention landed on a pair of suitcases, screaming at me from a corner.

Without any other thought I started rummaging the drawers, pulling out as many pieces of clothing and garments I could, tossing them in the larger suitcase. I had nowhere to go, but I didn't care: Harley Quinn was leaving.

"Where are you going?" a deep familiar voice startled me and I turned around, wide eyed and pale when the tall figure of J appeared by the closet's entrance, staring me with curiosity from the doorframe.

I said nothing, unable to think properly. Was I really leaving? I wasn't throwing a tantrum, my heart wanted to stay but my mind was screaming at me. Stupid, stupid girl.

And then I realized he perfectly knew my intentions. J approached me slowly and cupped my face with his hands, watching me closely. But there was no anger and I was almost sure I saw fear in his mesmerizing eyes.

"Don't go." I heard him say, as simple as that.

My clown pulled me into his arms and led me out of the closet. On the bed, a beautiful gold and black dress was waiting for me. I didn't care about the stupid dress as soon as he twirled me and started to dance with me, randomly. He was always so unpredictable, like the sea. And like water he drowned me.

"Do you love me?" I asked him, but the question had to be changed. "Can you learn to love me?"

"You make me smile." His thumb caressed the heart tattooed on my cheek and I forced myself to take that as an answer.