Ivy will forever be the biggest j@rley hater…‍♀️

Show her a little swing~

Momentary bliss…

Another prompt ficlet! @skyromaniac-05 requested “Rick thirsting over Harley” and this was the result. Given the nature of the prompt, this one’s a spicy one so feel free to skip if that’s not your thing.

Rick has to suppress a groan at the sight that greets him when he walks into the kitchen. Harley, wearing one of his t-shirts (the yellow one with the bunny on it that she seems to be obsessed with) and making coffee. The shirt hits about mid-thigh and he knows for a fact that she’s not wearing shorts underneath. She stands on tiptoe to reach something from the cupboard and the shirt rides up—giving him a glimpse of the black boyshorts she’s wearing.

It’s one of the hottest things he’s ever seen.

She squeaks when he comes up behind her and snakes his arms around her waist. His lips go to her exposed shoulder and he teases, “Been wondering where that shirt went.”

Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun—leaving her neck on display. He starts pressing lingering kisses along the length of her throat. She tilts her head to the side to give him easier access. “What’re you doing up so early?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” she gasps, as he nips at a particularly sensitive spot.

“Nightmare?” he asks, immediately turning serious. He doesn’t usually sleep through them but there’s a first time for everything.

“No,” she replies as she leans into his embrace. “Just woke up and couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“They’re getting better.”

“Yep.” She turns around in his arms and smiles up at him.

He decides to change the subject. “Seriously, where was this thing?” he asks in reference to the shirt she’s wearing.

She giggles. “I may or may not have stolen it from your laundry pile last month.”

“So you’re just gonna keep stealing my shirts?”

“Yep!”

“You know, keep stealing them and I won’t have anything left to wear.”

She grins mischievously and trails her hands up his bare chest to drape around his neck. “All part of my master plan.”

“Is that so?” He pulls her closer.

“Uh-huh,” she says—rolling up on her toes to be closer to his height.

He gasps when he feels her lips on his throat and his grip tightens on her hips. He can feel her smirk. She continues pressing heated kisses along his neck and jawline. His pulse hammers and blood rushes south. She finally gets to his ear and whispers, “Fuck me, Colonel.”

And he snaps.

He hoists her up onto the counter and drags her to the edge. “Yes, ma'am,” he growls, before crashing his lips into hers.

The coffee ends up getting cold.

———

Rick smiles and takes another sip of his beer as he watches Harley having the time of her life on the dancefloor. She’s on her third margarita and has already informed four other patrons that she’s “got a PhD, motherfucker!”

He’s content to sit back and enjoy the view. And he can’t help but think the view he has right now is nothing short of amazing.

Harley’s wearing a pink crop top and those denim shorts she’d hand painted stripes on—leaving her whole back and long legs exposed.

She takes a break from dancing to come say hi to him. “Hiya baby!”

He chuckles. “How drunk are you?”

She huffs. “I’m pleasantly tipsy, if you must know.”

He can tell she’s a little past pleasantly tipsy, but not sloppy drunk.

She grabs the hoodie he’d discarded earlier and throws it around her shoulders before climbing into his lap. His hands go to the bare skin of her lower back automatically and he bites back a groan. He’ll be honest, this is the last place he wants to be right now, with her looking like that.

“Havin’ fun?” she asks.

“Harls, I’m this close to dragging you to the back alley,” he rasps in her ear, before pressing a sneaky kiss to her neck.

“Home?” she gasps.

“Home,” he agrees, before practically dragging her out the door.

His lips are on her the second they get home. She kisses back enthusiastically—jumping up and wrapping her long legs around his waist. His hands go to her ass.

He presses her back against the nearest wall as his kisses move downward.

They don’t even make it to the bedroom.

——

Harley finishes applying her bright red lipstick and then takes a step back to look at herself in the bathroom mirror. She’s wearing a red satin A-line dress with a plunging neckline and open back. She looks hot. It’s the kind of dress that’s gonna have Rick drooling over her all fucking night. Curled hair and black heels complete the look.

She walks out to the living room to see one of the sexiest things she’s ever seen. Rick Flag. In a suit.

He looks uncomfortable as he fiddles with his shirt cuffs and the tie around his neck and his hair is still damp from the shower he just took. Her type may be “covered in blood” but god damn does he clean up nicely.

He looks up to see her and she smirks as she watches his gaze trail from her face downward. His eyes linger somewhere around her cleavage.

“What do ya think?” she asks, knowing full well what he’s thinking.

He comes close and snakes his arms around her waist—hands resting on her exposed lower back. He leans down and whispers in her ear, “I’m half tempted to just forget about dinner and find out how good this dress looks on the floor.”

She bites her lip and suppresses a moan. She reaches up and loosens the tie around his neck and pulls him down to her height so she can whisper back, “And if I’d known how well ya clean up I would’ve insisted on a fancy dinner months ago.”

Truthfully, all she can think about is getting him out of that suit. She’s not one to turn down a fancy dinner though. They’re celebrating her birthday after all.

She unbuttons the top three buttons of his shirt and snakes her hand inside to caress his chest. He inhales sharply at her touch. She moves the fabric aside to gain access to the skin of his neck—where she drops a lingering kiss. His hands tighten around her back. When she pulls back she sees that she’s left behind a lipstick print and she smirks. A little gift for him to discover later when he takes his tie off.

Dinner ends up being more amazing than she could ever imagine. She’s never been taken out to a fancy dinner before for any occasion, let alone her birthday. It makes her feel special, and she can’t say she’s felt like that very often in her life.

Really, the only thing hindering the date is the fact that both of them are so horny they can’t wait to leave. She has to refrain from dragging him to the restroom no less than four times while they’re waiting for their food.

The drive home is agony. Rick has his hand on her thigh the whole time and the closer they get to home, the higher his hand inches up her dress. He’s so close yet so far from where she needs him the most. She lets out a soft moan when he strokes her through her panties. It quickly turns into a whine when he withdraws his hand as quickly as it appeared. She glances at him and can see him smirking. Smug bastard.

She grabs his tie and pulls him into a sloppy kiss the second they’re through the door of their apartment. Without breaking the kiss or releasing her grip on his tie, she leads him to the bedroom.

They both agree the red dress looks much better on the floor.

————–

Rick is busy in the produce section of the grocery store when his phone buzzes. He pulls it out of his pocket and sees it’s a text from Harley. He opens it, expecting a meme that makes absolutely no sense to him, but the image he’s confronted with is better—muchbetter—than that.

It’s a picture of Harley, lying on her back with her head at the foot of the bed, hair cascading over the side. Her legs are bent in front of her and raised slightly and one hand is in her hair. She’s staring directly at the camera. She’s wearing a red corset with black polka dots that makes her chest look amazing and black boyshorts. Curled hair, red heels, and her favorite shade of red lipstick complete the picture.

He looks closer and realizes that, yes, she’s clutching his dog tags in her other hand. He curses under his breath and seriously contemplates just abandoning the cart and rushing home instead. Unfortunately, they desperately need groceries.

He gets another picture as he’s standing in line at the checkout.

She’s lying on her stomach this time, propped up on her elbows. Her legs are crossed behind her and she has his dog tags twined between her fingers. She’s blowing the camera a kiss with her other hand, and winking.

He suppresses a groan and wills the line to move faster. Instead, it seems to take forever.

The third picture comes when he’s putting the groceries in the trunk.

She’s on her knees this time—back arched and hands in her hair.

He goes twenty over the speed limit on the way home.

The groceries get abandoned by the front door and he stalks towards the bedroom. Harley is lounging on the bed, scrolling through her phone, but immediately tosses it aside when she hears him come in.

She shoots him a wicked grin. “Did ya get the pictures?”

He drops to his knees. “Oh I got them.”

He grabs her by the ankles and drags her to the edge of the bed, tossing her legs over his shoulders.

“What did ya think?” she asks breathlessly.

He trails kisses up the inside of her thigh. “I think it’s time for some payback.”

He peels her panties down her legs and trails his kisses higher—purposely avoiding the area she wants him the most. She’s practically shaking in anticipation by the time his lips touch her wet heat.

The ice cream is half melted by the time he’s done with her.

When he takes ya to Build-A-Bear, ya know he’s a keeper

Ahhhhhhhhh!!!!! It’s here! Okay so @oh-great-authoress requested some good old fashion tooth rotting quinnflag fluff and tooth rotting quinnflag fluff she shall have! This is seriously the most wholesome thing I’ve ever written and I’m very proud of it. Hope y’all enjoy!

Harley wakes up to the smell of bacon and coffee—it smells wonderful. She sits up, stretches, and gets ready to roll out of bed to go to the kitchen when the door opens. Rick comes in carrying a tray piled high with breakfast food.

She suddenly feels sick to her stomach.

See, Harley’s not used to getting gifts or having nice things done for her. At least not gifts that don’t come with a heavy price attached to them.

“What’s with that face, Harls?” Rick asks as he sets the tray over her lap and climbs into bed next to her.

She tries to school her features into something resembling less of a grimace. “You’re not gonna ask me to kill anyone, are ya?”

His brow furrows in confusion. “Why would I? We’re not in the squad anymore.”

She blushes. It was a stupid question. She knows Rick would never hurt her or make her do anything she didn’t want to do.

He nudges her side and says, “Talk to me, Harls. What is it?”

She plays with the edge of the blanket. “Mistah J would always do nice things for me before asking me to do his dirty work.”

He made her feel lovedandcared for—before handing her a gun and asking her to kill. She always did it without question. Until he asked her to kill her very best friend in the whole world—Poison Ivy.

She’d refused—and was thrown out a window as punishment.

An arm wrapping around her shoulders brings her out of her flashback. Rick kisses the top of her head and says, “I promise, I just wanted to do something nice for you after that nightmare you had last night.”

She leans against him and blinks back tears. What had she done to deserve this man? She couldn’t be more in love with him if she tried.

She swipes furiously at her face as the tears fall. God dammit! Why does she keep crying in front of him?

Rick’s used to her random tears at this point and just moves the tray out of the way so he can pull her gently to sit between his legs. He replaces the tray over her lap and wraps his arms around her—lips going to her bare shoulder where the collar of her too big t-shirt (really, one of his t-shirts that she’d stolen) had slipped down. He presses a soft kiss there and she melts.

“I love you. So much,” she says through the tears.

“I love you too, Harls. And I promise, I will never do anything to hurt you.”

She’s slowly starting to believe that.

———————————

Harley thinks that’s the end of the Nice Things—a one off thing that Rick did to make her feel better. But then they keep happening.

It starts with blueberry muffins and coffee just the way she likes it every Wednesday when he gets home from the gym.

“Why’d ya do this for me?” she warily asks the first time, before taking a sip of coffee. Oh that tastes delicious.

He shrugs. “I know you probably didn’t eat breakfast. I don’t know, I just wanted to do something nice for you.”

It becomes a nice weekly ritual that she looks forward to.

Then it’s the biggest bouquet of roses she’s ever seen and some chocolates on Valentine’s Day. She gets teary eyed when she sees them—no one’s ever gotten her flowers before. Not ones that don’t squirt acid anyway.

“I know it’s super cheesy and cliché,” he says apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck.

She takes the flowers from him and sets them on the couch. And then tackles him with a kiss.

After that it’s little tchotchkes he finds when they’re out and about that remind him of her.

“They didn’t have any beavers,” he explains, once he emerges from the antique store the two of them had been exploring. “But they did have this!”

He produces a taxidermied otter from behind his back. And it’s wearing tiny overalls! And a straw hat! She snatches it out of his hands and hugs it tightly. It’s not a Bernie the beaver but it’s just as good.

The otter, which she names Betty (after her other childhood crush), earns a place of honor on their TV stand.

Right now, he’s dragging her through the Gotham mall. He refuses to tell her where they’re going—claiming it’s a surprise. Finally, they reach their destination. Harley gasps and throws her arms around Rick’s neck. She’s nevergotten to go to Build-A-Bear!

“You’re welcome, Harls,” he says—kissing the top of her head.

He lets her run wild through the store as she chooses between all the different animals. After much deliberation, she chooses a classic brown bear.

They get as far as the picking clothing stage before Rick is shooing her out of the store. She pouts and all he does in response is kiss her nose and tell her it’s a surprise.

She grumbles but does as he says—practically vibrating in anticipation. After what feels like hours (but is probably only about ten minutes) Rick emerges from the store, holding something behind his back.

“Close your eyes,” he demands

She huffs but complies—holding out her hands. Something soft and furry is placed in her grasp and then Rick’s telling her to open her eyes.

In her hands is the brown bear she’d picked out. Only now it’s wearing a camo military uniform. Her very own soldier bear.

“This,” Rick says, “is for you to hug if you ever have a panic attack and I’m not there to help you.”

She hugs the bear to her chest and blinks back tears. Her very own soldier bear to hold if her soldier isn’t with her.

She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him down to her height so she can press her forehead to his. “Have I told ya lately that I love you?” she asks with a shy smile.

“Uh, this morning?” he replies, before pressing a kiss to her forehead. “You ready to go home?”

She still can’t believe she even has a home with this amazing man she absolutely adores.

“Home sounds amazing right now.”

———————–

Rick spends the subway ride home with one hand on Harley’s thigh and the other holding his phone—scrolling through it and frowning. He’s been doing that a lot lately, she’s noticed. She hasn’t asked him about it yet—a little afraid to hear the answer.

Once they get home, she heads towards the bedroom to find her new bear a place of honor on their bed and Rick goes to the couch. He’s still scrolling and scowling when she returns.

“Wow, I haven’t seen ya this scowl-y since I forgot your sandwich at Sal’s,” she half jokes (in her defense she had been veryhungover).

He doesn’t answer, which worries her. So she pushes the hand holding his phone away and climbs onto his lap. He sets his phone down and wraps his arms around her to pull her closer. She toys with the collar of his t-shirt and asks shyly, “It’s not somethin’ I did, is it?”

“It has nothing to do with you, Harls,” he assures her, with a soft kiss. He sighs and continues, “I’ve been following the news coverage about Corto Maltese and Starro.”

Oh. That explains a lot. She knows now that the things he’d discovered in Jotunheim had shaken his entire worldview.

“I’m just so fucking angry at the US government,” he admits. “And no one can ever know about the fucked up shit they did there because that drive is the only thing keeping you out of prison and me from joining you.”

She doesn’t really know how to respond to that so instead she says, “Would it make ya feel better if I told ya I named my bear after you?”

He smiles at her. “You named your bear Rick?”

“I’m not that unoriginal! Nah, I named him Flaggy, duh,” she says, as if it should be obvious.

He chuckles but then his smile falls and she knows he’s back to thinking about Jotunheim.

“Well, I guess I’ll let ya get back to your brooding,” she says as she gets off his lap. She’s suddenly had the most brilliant idea (and she’s not drunk so she knows it’s a sound idea).

She’s gonna make Rick some cookies.

She gets to work pulling out all the ingredients she thinks she’ll need (cookies have eggs in them, right?) and preheats the oven (400 degrees should be fine).

She doesn’t follow a recipe and she could’ve sworn she set a timer for the oven and she hadn’t meant to get sucked in by cute cat videos but all of a sudden the fire alarm’s going off.

She quickly shuts off the oven and pulls the tray out. The dough has coagulated into one giant mass and it’s burnt beyond recognition.

Rick runs into the kitchen and breathes out a sigh of relief when he sees that nothing is on fire. He reaches up to shut off the alarm and then takes a look at the “cookies”.

He shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Harls, what the fuck happened?”

She gives him a sheepish look. “Uh, I tried makin’ cookies to cheer ya up?”

He quirks an eyebrow at her and she says, “Look, would it help if I told ya the cat videos were reallycute?”

He doesn’t say anything as he goes over to the fridge and rummages around for a second. When he emerges, he’s holding a tube of premade cookie dough.

“When the fuck did we get that?”

He chuckles as he gets out a knife to cut the package open and another cookie sheet. “You picked it out last time we went grocery shopping.”

She grumbles and flings flour at him that lands in his hair. It’s not her fault her memory is shit.

She hoists herself onto the counter after grabbing a can of whipped cream from the fridge. Rick proceeds to roll out the dough into individual cookies and place them on the not ruined baking sheet. Harley “helps” by flinging spilled flour at him and eating whipped cream straight out of the can.

Once the cookies are in the oven he comes up to her and stands between her legs. “You uh, got something on your nose,” he comments.

She goes to wipe it away but he stops her, cupping her face gently and kissing away the whipped cream before kissing her lips softly.

For once, the kiss doesn’t lead anywhere. It’s just a soft simple kiss. Harley’s still not used to casual kisses. She’d always been expected to perform in all her previous relationships—with the Joker especially.

She wraps her arms and legs around him and clings to him tightly. He hugs her back and rests his chin on top of her head.

She’s overwhelmed with the feeling of just how much she loves this man. She feels so loved and cared for and safe with him and she never wants him to let her go.

This batch of cookies ends up getting burnt too.

(But this time they’re salvageable).

Three cracked ribs, bruised knuckles, and almost getting arrested for attempted murder? All worth it

Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!! Okay, here we have it! Another @foxlace prompt request! Prompt was shirtless cuddles and uh, this one is the spicest thing I’ve ever written. Nothing but spice past the read more so keep that in mind. BIG shout-out to @skyromaniac-05 for helping me write some of this because I’m so fucking ace and can’t describe shit

Rick’s cracked ribs scream in protest and his nose is throbbing and gushing blood, but he ignores all of that and throws another punch. The bastard underneath him won’t stop laughing maniacally and he’s determined to make it stop—permanently.

Joker’s face is a bloodied mess at this point—broken nose gushing blood, two missing teeth, two black eyes, and a split lip. And at least two cracked ribs on top of that. It’s not enough though. Rick needs him dead.

This fucking bastard had been stalking Harley for the last month and Rick will never forget how scared and paranoid she’s been lately. She’d been doing so much better until this fucking asshole had to ruin it. And then he had the nerve to show up here, at her favorite bar.

What he hadn’t counted on was Rick being so pissed off at his mere presence and just drunk enough to not give a flying fuck about any consequences.

“You and I,” he’d said, grabbing the other man by the collar as he tried cornering Harley by the bathroom, “need to have a little talk.”

He’d taken Joker to the back alley and thrown the first punch.

It hadn’t been a fair fight from the beginning. Joker fought dirty and had quickly managed to crack a couple of Rick’s ribs with a pair of brass knuckles and slash him with a knife. But Rick had quickly gained the upper hand. Right now he has the bastard’s arms pinned beneath his knees so he can’t stab or punch him again. He wraps his hands around the other man’s neck and squeezes, quickly cutting off that god awful laughter.

Suddenly, he’s being ripped away. He struggles against the grip the other person has on him. “Harley,” he says, in a warning tone.

“Not Harley,” the other person growls. “Trust me, you don’t wanna go down that path.”

“Oh trust me, I absolutely do,” Rick replies—realizing he’s talking to Batman. He spits blood on the ground.

“Think about how Harley will feel if you get sent to prison,” Batman reasons.

That makes him pause. Frankly, he’s willing to risk it if it means the bastard’s gone for good, but he knows it wouldn’t be fair to Harley. The other man lets go of him and goes towards the broken form of the Joker on the ground.

He hears footsteps thundering towards him and turns around. He braces for impact and groans as Harley barrels right into his chest. His ribs scream in protest but he hugs her tight anyway. She pulls back and grabs his face—checking him over for injuries—and starts asking a million questions as she checks to see if he has a concussion. He wipes the blood from his lip and patiently answers every question and performs every action she demands of him. Once she’s satisfied that he doesn’t have brain damage she pulls him towards her and hugs him—gently this time.

“I’m okay, Harls. I promise. Let’s go home.”

———————-

Harley goes into Doctor Mode the second they get home, ordering him to sit on the couch and getting out her medical supplies. It’s impressive, really, considering she’s so horny she can barely think straight.

She hadn’t been prepared to find out just how fucking hot it was to see her boyfriend beating her ex within an inch of his life. Look, it’s not her fault her type is “covered in blood”.

She has to take a moment to collect her (very dirty) thoughts once he takes his shirt off so she can assess his ribs. She has to really concentrate so she doesn’t get distracted by those gorgeous tattoos he has on his upper arms as she’s bandaging his knuckles. Those tattoos she’s been obsessed with since finding out he even hadthem. How dare he hide them—and those amazing abs (and those biceps)—from her for the entirety of their early relationship. That was sorude!

She manages to hide how turned on she is as she cleans up his nose—not broken, luckily. He hisses through his teeth as she tightens the bandage around his ribs just a tad too tight.

“That’s what ya get for scaring me so bad.” And for being so god damn attractive right now. Rude.

He chuckles softly and wraps an arm around her. “Sorry for scaring you, but I’m not sorry I did it.”

She shoves him away—lightly—and protests, “God dammit, I’m trying to be mad at you! Why ya gotta be so fuckin’ perfect all the time?”

He laughs again and then winces. She urges him to lie down on the couch and straddles him so she can get at his head wound without him having to move so much. Oh. Bad idea. Really bad idea.

She bites her lip and tries to concentrate on cleaning the blood off his forehead instead of the feeling of him underneath her. She feels flushed all over and needs to do something to relieve the ache between her legs.

Before she knows it, she’s grinding against him. Fuck! It feels so good. She can feel him hardening against her and she can’t help it. She lets out a soft moan and moves her hips with more purpose, hand going to his chest to steady herself. She comes back to herself when she hears him hiss through his teeth, and stops.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry!” she apologizes, feeling terrible. This is not the time to be thinking about sex.

“No no, keep going,” he urges.

“What about your ribs?” she asks.

He smirks—that smirk that always makes her knees weak—and trails his fingers from the hem of her crop top down her stomach to toy with the waistband of her shorts. “Well I guess we’ll just have to be careful then.”

His hand slips into her shorts and past her underwear. She tips her head back and gasps when she feels his fingers against her clit. She lets out a soft moan as he slips two fingers inside her and grinds against the heel of his hand. Fuck! It feels sogood.

“That’s it, Harls. Keep going,” Rick encourages. His husky voice stirs something deep in her belly.

He lets her do all the work and she’s so wound up that it’s not long before she’s coming with a scream. He works her through her orgasm and she almost collapses onto his chest. She remembers his ribs at the last second and instead steadies herself with her hands on his lower abdomen.

———————–

Before she can even catch her breath, he’s ordering her to strip—pupils blown as he catches that familiar mischief in her eyes as she climbs off of him.

The first thing to go is her shirt. She lifts it over her head slowly—maintaining eye contact the whole time. And fuck! She’s not wearing a bra. She tosses the shirt somewhere behind her and his eyes drift to her newly revealed skin—the defined curves of her lean muscles trapping his gaze in a way that has him unbearably hard.

Next to go are her shorts. Her hands run down her front to the waistband and she toys with it for a second—as if debating whether she should take the garment off. Before he can tell her to hurry the fuck up, she’s pulling the shorts down, along with her underwear. He swallows hard as he takes in the sight of her long legs—heart pounding and blood rushing south.

She runs her fingertips down his chest and toys with the zipper on his jeans. The mischievous smirk on her face and the desire in her eyes makes him strain against his pants even more. He wants her. Now.

Just before he feels like he’s about to go insane, she finally removes his pants—his erection slipping free and finally providing some relief. She moves to straddle him and he groans. He can feel her wet heat against his cock.

She grinds against him and he grabs her hips hard enough to leave bruises. “Harls,” he warns. “I swear to god if I’m not inside you in the next fifteen seconds—”

He cuts himself off with a moan as she finally sinks down onto his erection.

She doesn’t move for several seconds and he has to resist the urge to thrust his hips up. Just when he thinks he’s about to go insane, she moves—bracing herself against his abdomen. The pace she sets is slow at first but quickly picks up.

“Play with your clit, sweetheart,” he orders.

She whines and then complies—fingers starting at her neck and moving downward slowly, in between her breasts, and then finally to the apex of her thighs. She gasps once she reaches the bundle of nerves and rubs furiously. Before he knows it, she’s falling apart on top of him. It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.

She collapses onto his chest, hands going to his shoulders to avoid his ribs, breathing hard. She squeaks as he quickly reverses their positions and it turns into a moan as he increases the pace and power of his thrusts. His whole body is screaming at him.

“What about your ribs?” she manages to ask as he fucks her, hard and fast.

“Don’t give a shit,” he pants, before crashing his lips into hers.

He tilts her hips up, to change the angle of his thrusts and she shatters—screaming his name as she comes a third time. He follows soon after.

He rolls to the side so he doesn’t crush her and collapses onto his back. He feels like he’s been hit by a truck but he doesn’t give two shits. Harley squeezes herself between his body and the back of the couch and snuggles against him. He wraps an arm around her and tucks her into his side. Slowly, their breathing returns to normal.

“I still can’t believe ya did that for me,” she says, tracing the edge of the bandage wrapped around his torso.

He smiles. He doesn’t regret what he did for a second. “You’re worth almost getting arrested for attempted murder, Harls.”

“It was really fuckin’ hot,” she says next.

“Really? I had no idea,” he deadpans.

She laughs and smacks him lightly. He smiles and leans down to kiss the top of her head. She gets serious again. “Ya want anything for the pain?”

Truthfully, his whole body hurts like a bitch but he’s already half asleep and doesn’t answer. The last thing he registers before sleep claims him is a blanket being draped over him and Harley kissing his cheek and saying, “Sweet dreams, Rick.”

Margot Robbie as Harley Quinn

The Suicide Squad (2021)⭐

Dir. James Gunn

maybe you need Abner Krill and Radiohead Creep in one video?

Because I can give it to you